Flight To Paradise Ch 07

Immersion Playground

Book #3: Flight to Paradise

Chapter 7

"We're here," Mac says, pointing out his window with a jerk of his thumb, tipping the wing down so Kate can see.

"That's the lake you live on?"

"Lake Oroville."

"Where's the airport?" she asks, looking around her.

"You're looking at it," he says, banking the plane over harder and pushing the nose down.

"Where?" she asks, still looking around.

"Lake Oroville. We're landing on the lake."

"What!" she shouts, making him laugh and pull one headphone from his ear as if she had deafened him.

"Kate. This is a seaplane. It's what seaplanes do, they land on water. I told you this morning about landing on water." He begins to chuckle again as the plane drops for the lake.

"Holy

shit!

I thought that was some of that pilot lingo, like flying next to the edge and all that other shit. I didn't know you

meant

it!"

He begins to laugh harder. "Stop it! I have to concentrate," he teases. He reaches up and yanks two levers all the way back. She hears some whirring and a thump, as the entire airplane begins to vibrate. "We're going in low and slow to look for debris in the water. You can help. If you see anything in the water let me know. Hitting a floating log would piss me off."

"Okay," she says, then swallows hard as her heart begins to race. He turns the plane and she can see a boat in the lake right where he's heading.

"There's a boat right in the middle of the landing area. If it's a local they'll move when we come over," he says as the plane continues to drop toward the water.

He brings the plane in low, not more than twenty feet off the water, the plane feeling like it's just crawling along even as the engines roar. Low and slow is right! He tips her wing down, causing her to look at him. He's looking hard out of her window.

"What?" she asks, looking out of her window again, trying to see if there is anything in the water.

"I was looking at the windsock at the house. Almost no wind so it doesn't matter which way I land. We'll make a couple of passes then land to the south. Shorter taxi that way."

They fly for a short distance over the water then he applies power and pulls up. "Another pass to make sure," he says as he makes a long sweeping turn to give the boat plenty of time to clear the landing area. As they come around, they can see the boat sitting well away from where it was as he lines up for another pass over the lake. As they skim over the surface she watches out of her window while he watches out of his, pulling up as they cross a set of orange buoys sitting in the water.

"See anything," he asks.

"No, nothing. I hope I didn't miss anything," she replies, her heart thudding.

"If you did, I did too," he says as he brings the plane around to land. He lines the plane up on the buoys, reaching up and easing the throttles back, cutting power and letting the plane settle toward the lake until it touches the surface with a heavy vibration and roar of rushing water.

As the plane settles into the water, he cuts power and allows the airplane to slow to a near stop before he applies power again. "Now, we're a boat," he says applying more power to one engine to turn the plane toward shore before revving the other engine and driving the plane toward the house with the orange windsock on the shore.

As they putter along, she watches the boat they flew over racing toward them. "The boat is coming this way," she says as the craft approaches.

"They always do," he says with a grin. "Just let me know if they get close. We're not the most maneuverable thing in the lake."

She watches the boat approach then turn to parallel them, a small boy in the boat waving enthusiastically. She giggles and waves back through the window.

As they near the shore he lowers the landing gear with a thump then applies a little extra power to drive the plane up a concrete ramp toward a hanger, turning the plane 180° in front of the doors so it's once again facing the lake. He pulls the paper out of his seat pocket and begins flipping switches until the instrument panel goes dark and the engines fall silent.

Plane silent, Mac unbuckles and puts away his sunglasses before hanging his headphones on the back of the seat, Kate doing the same. "Welcome to my home," he says then smiles, "And thank you for flying Puddle Jumper airlines, where a water landing isn't necessarily an emergency landing."

She laughs as she climbs out of her seat and follows him to the back of the plane.

He opens the door and leaps out then turns, holding his hands up to catch her. He could put the steps down, but this will be much more fun.

She looks at his waiting hands. She can easily leap to the ground but jumps into his arms anyway, keeping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss as he stands her on the ground.

He smiles down at her as she breaks the kiss, taking her gently by the arm. "Come on, let's get up to the house and get you settled in." He clambers up on the nose of the plane using the hidden steps in the side, opening the hatch and reaching in to retrieve the suitcases. "Best thing I ever did was have these steps put in," he says after climbing down. "I got so sick of carrying a ladder everywhere I went just so I would have clean underwear."

"Why don't you just put the bags in the back?"

"Because I didn't want a forty-pound bag hitting me in the back of the head in the event of a hard landing."

"Ohhhh..." she says as realization dawns. "That would be adding insult to injury wouldn't it? Being knocked out by your own clean underwear."

"Yes, it would," he chuckles, walking her toward the hangar, the doors motoring open in response to his request sent through the net. He chucks the two suitcases into the back of an overgrown golf cart, painted in the same white and blue as the airplane, before he climbs in behind the wheel.

They ride up the climbing and curved paved path to Mac's house, the second of the two double doors going up on the garage tucked under the house as they approach. Mac wheels the tug into the bay and hops out, hefting the bags out of the back and walks toward a set of steps. She follows him, past a car shaped lump under a cover, a huge white Ford SUV, and a silver Mercedes of roughly the same design as the one he was driving in LA. They climb the flight of steps into the house, and step into a cathedral.

The vast open room is so tall that even Mac's towering height is dwarfed by the vaulted ceiling, a ceiling covered in light colored wood and supported by massive wooden beams the same honey color as the wooden floor. Directly ahead of them is a massive fireplace made from the same stone as the outside of the house, extending all the way to the high ceiling, with a large leather couch and two matching chairs parked in front. To the left is a dining table with six chairs, to the right, windows extending from the floor all the way to the highest point in ceiling, overlooking the lake, the view breathtaking in its beauty. Another couch and chairs, twins to those in front of the fireplace, face the glass.

"I told you I had a view that would knock your socks off," Mac says as they walk into the room and then turning down the hall. "Where should I put your bag? The guest room or in my room?"

She has to tear her attention away from the view. "What? Oh, guest room please," she says, knowing she won't be sleeping there. She follows him down the hall before turning right into the room with Mac.

He places her suitcase on the bed then steps around her. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep in my room?" he asks as he exits the guest room and walks a bit farther down the hall before turning left into another room. She follows him into the room, stopping in the doorway. His bedroom is massive, easily as big as the family room in her small house, but the defining feature of the room is another floor to ceiling window overlooking the lake.

She stands in the doorway and looks about the room. Just the thought of making love to Mac on that huge bed with the lake view in the background is almost enough to make her pant. "Well... maybe," she says demurely. "If you play your cards right it could happen," she says, though she can feel her color rising already.

He looks at her before he begins to snicker. "Okay. I'll be on my best behavior."

"Oh, god, I hope not," she breathes, then begins to laugh as well.

He tosses his bag on the bed then turns to her, waiting until she enters the room and oozes into his arms. He holds her for a moment before lowering his lips to hers. The moment their lips touch, the kiss explodes, taking on a life of its own as they ravage each other, and she molds herself to him like a second skin. After an eternity he breaks off the kiss.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, his heart pounding as he takes a step back and releases her. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. "Uh... I have to go post-flight the plane and put it into the hanger, but... uh... look around... make yourself at home. Your bathroom is in your room, to the right."

She stands still as he backs away, trying to gather herself. She feels hot, sweaty, and ready to fuck, and it all happened in the space of one kiss.

Jesus Christ is right.

"Okay. Go do that," she finally manages to croak out. "I'll unpack while you're gone." She waits for him to make the first move, but he just stands there, looking at her, his color up just as hers is.

Are we going to go, right here, right now?

He finally shakes himself free of the spell she cast over him. "Yes, okay, good idea," he says, taking another step back then stepping around her. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Mac speaking again finally brings her back to the here and now. "Okay. I'll... uh... entertain myself until you get back." Flustered she turns and follows him out of his room, wondering what the hell just happened.

She hadn't brought much, since it's just going to be three nights. Once Mac's gone, and she's able to start thinking clearly again, it doesn't take her long to unpack. She hangs up her few clothes, leaving her undergarments, including the racy nighties she plans to wear, in the suitcase. It's obvious she's not going to need one tonight. They'll be lucky to make it through dinner before tearing into each other.

Finished unpacking, she begins to explore. Mac's home has an interesting floor plan. The entire house is designed around the master bedroom and the enormous central room. In addition to the master suite, there are two more bedrooms, one of which he's using as a workout room. The guest bedroom that holds her clothes and the workout room share a large bath, situated between them with a door at each end, and a third door opening into the hall. The other side of the hall holds the laundry room and Mac's enormous bedroom with a pair of huge walk-in closets, one of which is completely empty, flanking his equally enormous bathroom.

As she wanders back into the main part of the house, she's once again captured by the glass wall and the view that nearly stops her heart. She has to tear herself from the view before walking to the massive stone fireplace while dragging her fingers along the back of the couch. She looks out of the doors on either side of the hearth, before opening one and stepping out onto a large deck with a long flight of steps and a wooden walk leading to the lake edge. She looks about, admiring how Mac's house appears to be plopped down in the middle of a forest with no hint of landscaping visible.

Stepping back inside, she closes the door and continues across the cathedral, as she now thinks of it, past the dining table to enter in the large, bright and airy kitchen. The kitchen is sparkling clean but it's obviously a working kitchen.

So, he wasn't just showing off for me, and he really does cook.

She thinks briefly about starting a meal, to surprise him when he returns from post-flighting the plane, but decides not to. Cooking isn't her thing, and she can't do much more than operate a zapper and make sandwiches.

She leaves the kitchen, again pausing to look out of the huge window, before crossing the front entry and turning into the final room. On the right side of the room are two large French doors opening onto the deck that fill the room with light. Judging from the slightly worn in look of the furniture, this is where Mac spends his time. The room holds a state-of-the-art vid and sound system, a bookshelf with a few real books and some memorabilia from his time in the army, but the thing that strikes her are the pictures. Dozens of pictures, some sitting about the room, but most hanging on the wall.

On impulse she strides out of the room, quickly looking into each room of the house. She's right, there isn't one picture, not one piece of artwork, anywhere else in the house, nothing to mar the severe beauty of this temple to wood, stone, and light. Kate returns to the den and looks at the pictures. Some are of an older man and woman, a couple of another family with a pair of young children, a few of Mac alone, always in uniform, but most are of Mac and another man, a slightly older man, both nearly always in some form of uniform. Kate looks at the pictures, trying to guess the relationship. Probably not Mac's father she decides, more like his best friend.

Finished looking at the pictures Kate wanders back into the cathedral, looking at the soaring ceiling, before turning her gaze once again to the view. She stops at the back of the couch overlooking the lake, hands resting lightly on its back, soaking in the scene. The view seems to suffuse her with a deep peace and quietens the clamor of her life.

She's standing there, still as stone, when Mac walks into the house, the sound of his entrance pulling her back from her thoughts.

"Sorry I took so long," he says walking up behind her, taking her into his arms and holding her close, her back in his chest. It's a very loving embrace, an embrace with much promise but without the fury of the kiss they'd shared in his bedroom.

"It's fine," she says, allowing him to hold her. "Your house is lovely."

"I like it."

"Do you have neighbors? It's so quiet it seems like nobody is around for miles."

"Oh sure. I own three lots of an acre each. I had to get three to have room for the hanger without being right on top of the neighbors. But the Bannermans live on the left and the Vaughans on the right. Phil Bannerman, he's a doctor, about seventy I guess, and Chet Vaughan and his wife are architects. They designed this house for me, actually. They're both good neighbors. Never know they're there until you need them, and they don't mind me buzzing around in the plane so long as I take them for a ride now and again," he says with a chuckle.

"And what do you do, Mac? You've never said," she asks. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm curious."

"I'm an angel."

She squirms in his arms until he releases her. She turns so she can turn to face him. "An angel? Not with what you did to me Wednesday night you're not," she says with a giggle, and then recovers. "Sorry, what's an angel?"

He smiles. "I'm an investor. A small-time investor, investing between say $100,000 and ten million dollars in startup companies. If I'm lucky, the money helps the company grow, or get on its feet, and when it becomes successful, I sell my shares for a profit and use the money to invest in something else."

"Ten million dollars?" she asks, her surprise clear in her tone. Ten million dollars is a lot of money, but the way he says it, it's like he's putting millions into several companies at the same time.

"Ten million is peanuts in this game, Kate. The big boys, they invest billions. I can't compete with that, so I go for the small firms, the firms that have a good idea but need a little help to get started. Take this house. All this wood, most of it isn't solid wood. It's a composite laminate. More durable than wood, no maintenance, and best of all, have you noticed there are no echoes in this house even though it should sound like you're in a drum? That's the magic of this product. The wood has a micro texture to it, too small to see or feel, but that texture, along with the laminating material, absorbs the sound and stop any echoes. You've probably seen their advertisements, 'Dedwood... kills echoes dead'?"

She smiles. "I've seen them once or twice. The ads are cute."

"My first big score. I sold my shares in them a couple years ago. Netted nearly three hundred million in profit."

"Three

hundred

million?" she says in shock.

"Yep," he said. "This house is the first house built using the stuff, and as you can see, well, hear, it works really well."

She's impressed despite herself. She'd figured Mac probably had money, but she had no idea. Oh sure, he drove nice cars, had a nice house, had a nice plane, but if you were to just meet him in a restaurant, the way he comported himself, you'd never know he was wealthy. Apparently very wealthy.

"Own anything else I've heard of?"

"No, probably not. Dedwood has been my crowning achievement so far, but there is another firm I've got my eye on." He smiles. "You may have heard of it. Immersion Playground?"

"Charlie's company? Really? Why them?"

"I think they're onto a winner of an idea. Immersions that are deeply moving. Being that you know Charlie and Todd, you must have tried

The Proposal.

What'd you think of it?"

She grins. "I tried it before there was an Immersion Playground, and you're right. That immersion is something special. Did you know that Rick and Giselle, the stars, are friends of Charlie and Todd's? The four of them own the company. I think they're doing okay. I know that Rick is semi-famous for developing the net and I think he's pretty well off too."

"The guy in the immersion invented the net? No shit? Funny, he doesn't act like some nerdy guy."

"Doesn't fuck like one either," she says with a laugh.

He joins her in laughter. "No. No he doesn't. You hungry? I'm starving."

"I could eat something," she says, pitching her voice down a bit and looking at him.

"How the

hell

do you do that?" he exclaims.

"Do what?" she asks as her brow wrinkles in confusion.

"That, whatever it is you do," he says waving a hand around. "How do you say

nothing

, do

nothing

, but make it so all I can think of is ripping your clothes off and fucking you where you stand?"

She giggles. "It's a gift." She pauses then adds, "And what's stopping you?"

He looks at her.

What indeed?

He tamps down on his surging heat, refusing to let her lead him around by his cock. "Later, for dessert. First, dinner. Now, what would you like? No, wait, let me see what I can you make first."

"Besides hot you mean?" she asks, following him to the kitchen.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment at her comment, holding tight to his rampaging desires, knowing that she's playing him.

She's going to pay for this later

, he swears to himself.

In the kitchen he roots about in the pantry and refrigerator. "Looks like I am going to have to go to the market unless you want a zapper meal. Or, I could fix you a real omelet, with potatoes."

"A zapper will be fine."

"Rather than a real omelet? I could scramble the eggs if you prefer. Or fix them another way."

"Do you not want a zapper? I don't want to put you out."

"Honestly, I'd rather eat the egg carton than a zapper. But I have a few here for quick fixes. You're welcome to pick something out."

She laughs. "Okay, an omelet, fixed the way you want it. I wouldn't want to leave you with no place to store your eggs."

"Okay! Two omelets McMillan coming right up."

He lifts a pan off the hanging pot rack, giving it a spin in his hand before setting it on the stove. He spends the next few minutes peeling and slicing potatoes, adding them to a second pan, along with a bit of oil, before topping the pan with a lid. He then begins chopping onion, green pepper, mushrooms and ham into tiny cubes, the knife flashing so quickly and so close to his fingers she can hardly bear to watch. The slicing and dicing complete, he adds a healthy pat of butter to the warming pan before pulling out six eggs, cracking them two at a time, one in each hand, into the pan. He allows the eggs to cook a moment while turning the potatoes with a couple of quick flicks of the wrist, adding salt, pepper and something else that she can't make out. Potatoes cooking, he adds the rest of the ingredients along with some shredded cheese to the eggs, carefully folding the eggs over.