Aurora - Way of the Goddess Pt. 07

Watson gripped her arms. "But what?"

She looked at him. "But nothing. I don't like him, Damon, not one little bit. In fact I don't think I ever have. There! After all this time I've finally said it. I'm afraid of him, yes, and a little in awe, and I've always looked up to him as my spiritual superior. But like him? Nah. That's not the way we do things."

"Well it sounds like your mind's made up."

Vicky turned her attention inwards. She felt like she was walking on air, like she was weightless, and light was shining through her, like sunlight through a stained glass window. An indescribable sense of joy was welling up from the pit of her belly and her heart was hammering in her chest. The very thought that she could just go ahead choose a new path was almost overwhelming. "Pretty much."

"I hope you know what you're doing." Watson sighed.

"I don't have a clue." Vicky shook her head. "Do you?"

Watson nodded. "Yes."

"And?"

"I say go for it!"

Vicky hooked her arm through Watson's elbow. "The die is cast." she announced. They set off, walking at a civilised pace, and Vicky suddenly said, "Sex."

Watson looked at her. "You have just named my number one favourite pastime."

"Really? Well do you think we can do it again? Once everything has settled down?"

"Is the pope a- of course we can. We'd be mad not to. Think of all the positions we still have to try."

"Positions?" Vicky frowned. "What positions?"

"Sexual positions."

"Positions? Plural? There's more than one?"

Watson shook his head, laughing. "Oh, Vicky. You have no idea."

She shivered. "You're right, I don't, but I'm busting to find out."

"Think I'm good enough?" Watson asked, shaking her arm. "Wouldn't prefer some tall, dark, handsome stranger more your age?"

"Oh, you're good enough alright."

"Even if I fall asleep on you afterwards?"

"That was a bit of a shock I have to admit. And when you made that great big noise..."

"What big noise?"

Vicky looked at him, smirking, but didn't reply.

"Oh..." Watson blushed, "did I?"

"Nearly blew the sheets off." Vicky teased.

"You must think I'm disgusting."

Vicky tugged him to a halt. Looking left and right to check the coast was clear, she cranked her hip out. One eye closed, she curled her lip and summoned up a ladylike toot. "There." she said, "Now we're even."

"Goodness," Watson laughed, "I've created a monster."

Vicky's lips parted in a great big grin which she immediately hid with her hand.

"And that's another thing that has to stop!"

Vicky looked around, puzzled. "What?"

"Always hiding that gorgeous mouth. It's a crime against humanity."

"But Pastor says-"

"Fuck the Pastor!"

Vicky blanched.

"I mean, 'yea and verily, the pastor doth unto us all a great disservice'. The rules have changed, Macca. Hiding that smile is now officially illegal."

Vicky's uninhibited smile lit up the sky. "You know, Pastor always said I had a wanton mouth."

"Well he got that right."

Vicky drew a huge breath that reached the soles of her feet. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this day."

Watson shrugged. "Had to happen sooner or later. They couldn't keep you locked up forever."

"What if we had never crossed paths?" Vicky asked.

"Useless to speculate," Watson replied, "because we did." He felt Vicky deflate a little, un-reassured. "But it still would have happened. It was inevitable."

"Do you think?"

"Do you?"

Vicky looked around at her amazing new world. "Know what? The answer is yes. Yes I do."

"Then it's official." The old man beamed and offered his hand. "Congratulations, Victoria, you've just been reborn."

They shook, then Vicky pulled away, peering at him suspiciously. "Just one thing."

Watson shook his head in dismay, having thought the deal was already sealed. "What?"

"All those things you just told me. About the sun and ice and star-stuff and everything. Is all of that true?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Watson nodded, drawing an 'X' on his chest.

Vicky took his hand. "Then there is so much to learn."

"It will knock your socks off."

Vicky raked her hair back then stepped aside. "Well, come on then. Now you've gone and undone the last twenty five years of my life. I guess it's time we got back."

As she dropped her head to launch into a trot Watson grabbed her. "Vicky, for the love of the late god. Don't make me run."

"It's just a short jog."

"Followed by a funeral. Come on, Honey, let's just walk. And if I make it home alive I'll shout you breakfast."

* * *

By the time Watson had showered, wolfed down a snack and done the mandatory last look-around, the pilots and Beck were already outside, luggage neatly arrayed, awaiting pickup. Ally was clad in a pair of bright yellow denim shorts with a Hello Kitty sewn onto one cheek, and a light pink hoodie with the sleeves pushed up. On her feet she wore a pair of well-worn gold-glitter Converse, with short pink running socks accentuating her slender ankles. When Watson strolled up she was teaching Beck to do cartwheels.

"Okay Beck, front leg in the direction you're going, lean forward and bring the back leg up. Hand, hand..." Ally went over and the bottom of her hoodie rode up over her belly, all the way to her black-striped green bra. "And you boys," she grunted, "stop looking at my tits."

"Make me!" Ben said.

"Is she clairvoyant?" Watson shook his head.

"Foot, foot.." Ally landed squarely on her feet and straightened, brushing her hands. "You're male," she told the old man. "I don't have to be."

Beck went over in an almost perfect replica of Ally's demonstration, her skirt fetching up around her hips, the hem of her T-shirt riding up halfway over her breasts, revealing an eyeful of floral cotton panties and matching bra.

"I can see your knickers!" Ally sang, pointing.

"Stop steaming up my tail!" Beck exclaimed and Ben almost swooned, "Waddaya tryin' to do? Wrinkle it?"

Ally clapped. "Excellent, Becky," she said and raised a hand, "but try to rotate through the vertical. Here..." Ally squared up, then lunged onto the forward foot, fell forward onto her hand, "I haven't done these since... Ooomph..." Misjudging, she twisted around her hand and came down hard on her bottom, dislodging her gold-mirrored shades. Wide-eyed, slightly winded, she stuck out her bottom lip and blew the hair from her face. "...high school."

"About six weeks ago." Ben giggled.

Beck sailed through a perfect cartwheel, hand, hand, foot, foot, landing as lightly as a cat. Ally extended an arm. "Give an old digger a hand, Benny Boy?"

"Give yourself one."

Watson stooped to offer his but Beck barged him out of the way. Taking Ally's hands, she leant back and heaved the young woman up off the grass.

A stretched limo coasted into the horseshoe drive at the same time as a distant voice hailed, "Yoo hooo!"

"Christ!" Ben hissed, "It's Macca! Look busy!"

Beck hastily brushed the grass off Ally's behind. "You missed some." Ally teased, sticking her butt out.

Vicky sashayed down the path as the limo drew to a stop and the trunk clunked open. She was dressed in her short, sleeveless, blue Manga dress and a pair of red high heels. Her hair was out, rather than trussed into its standard functional bun, and she was radiating vivacity. "What's this?" she demanded with a huge, unabashed smile, "Why aren't you guys in uniform?"

"Mufti day." Ally replied, surreptitiously studying her friend. Something wasn't right.

"I'm telling on you!" Vicky taunted, smiling.

"Well Tan said we could," Ally retorted and poked out her tongue, "so there! Anyway, you can't talk. You look like you just staggered back from the Casino."

"Watch this, Macca!" Beck called then cartwheeled across the grass, hand, hand, foot, foot.

Vicky pointed. "I can see your knickers!"

"Is that all anybody cares about?" Beck scowled.

Ben nodded. "Pretty much."

A uniformed chauffeur climbed out of the limo. "Good morning Captain Sorensen, Captain Blake." When Ally hefted her overnight bag, the chauffeur stepped in, offering his hand. "Please, Miss Blake, let me get that for you."

Ally fended him off with a shoulder. "I'm not a flippin' cripple, Geoff."

"Ah, Miss Blake, I have missed you."

"You need to drop your sights a bit." Ben suggested. "And load up on rat-shot."

Vicky breezed up. "Morning, Geoff."

"Miss Victoria? I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you without your work clothes. You're looking very..."

"Sexy." Ally wound the statement up for him.

When Vicky squeezed in beside Ally to load her bag, the pipsqueak pilot sniffed the air. "Is that perfume? And are you wearing lipstick?"

"What's this?" Vicky looked her up and down, beaming. "Are you from the lipstick police?"

Beck manoeuvred into position at Watson's elbow to watch the show. The last she'd seen of the god-fearing PA was with her ankles around her ears and her butt off the bed, being pounded all the way to orgasm by her old man.

"How did you pull up from the run?" Watson asked.

Arms up, exposing her creamy white underarms, Vicky swept her hair back, classic female body language, showcasing her youth, advertising her fertility. "It was one of the best I've ever had. How about you?"

Watson looked at the audience, feigning injury. "She tried to kill me."

"Well at least she didn't try to convert you." Ally muttered.

"Damon's not the one who needed converting." Vicky said cryptically. "Shouldn't we be going?"

They sat in silence as the ride began, Ben and Watson on the forward-facing rear seats, Beck lounging between Vicky and Ally on the mid-seat facing aft. Watson stared out the window, assiduously avoiding the merest glance under the hem of Vicky's short dress. Well, just the one, to confirm the colour of the day, dark blue, trimmed in yellow.

Ally sat probing Vicky's energy, sure, on the one hand, what all the signs pointed to, unable, on the other, to reconcile such a ludicrous notion with her straight-laced friend. It was a bit like coming across a sealed section in the bible, a full-colour spread featuring an orgy. Oblivious to her neighbour's troubled musings, Vicky touched Beck on the arm. Ducking her head, she pointed out the window. "Have you ever wondered," she asked, "what makes clouds stay up in the sky?"

Watson sat, holding his breath. Such a simple question with so much portent.

Ally rolled her eyes, oddly relieved. "Christ," she muttered, "here we go."

"No, really. Look at them. We wouldn't be alive if it weren't from them. No clouds, no rain. No rain, no life. But how do they do it?"

"Convection." Beck announced matter-of-factly.

Vicky shook her head with a frown. "Con-what?"

"Vection. When the ground heats up, little parcels of warm air begin to rise. When they rise they cool. If there's moisture in the air it condenses, and the teeny-weeny droplets make up the cloud."

There was a moment's dead silence and Ally shook her head. "Shit a brick. That takes me back."

Ben crossed his arms, gazing at infinity, "CPL. Basic met."

Ally nodded. "I forgot all that garbage the minute I passed my exams."

"But why don't they fall down?" Vicky persisted. "Water's heavier than air, isn't it?"

Beck flashed Watson a glance and he gave her a tiny nod. They had studied the subject over several days at sea, sloshing along in a desultory breeze with nothing to do but fuck and learn stuff. "The droplets are so small they don't have much fall velocity. Plus the clouds make their own heat when the vapour condenses so they continue to rise."

"She's right," Ally affirmed in amazement, "the latent heat of condensation. Let's just sign her up for her licence and be done with it."

Vicky's eyes had gone all misty and she smeared them with the back of her hand. "How can you know all this?"

"She can read!" Ally said flatly, "And I don't mean the bloody-"

Watson put a finger to his lips and gave his head a miniscule shake.

"So as long as the clouds are warmer than their surrounds they keep going up." Beck continued. "Do you want to know the cloud species?"

Vicky looked at her, agog. "Clouds have species?"

"Of course they do. You see-"

Watson nudged Beck's foot with his toe. "Thanks, professor. That'll do."

Vicky draped an arm over the pouting girl's shoulders. "Let's learn clouds when I come for a sail. I can come, can't I? I have witnesses you know. That invitation is legally-binding."

Watson looked at her. She could come, alright, he'd seen it. And there'd be lots to learn about other than clouds. But she'd lived most of her life in a state of trudging ignorance and the question was, how much more knowledge could she could safely absorb?

* * *

Beck trailed Ben around his preflight inspection, feeling hugely important in a pair of orange earmuffs and a bright yellow hi-viz. In the right hand seat up in the cockpit, Ally did the dogsbody work of loading the flightplan for their quick hop to Sydney.

With Ben in the skipper's seat and Ally riding shotgun, Beck settled into the jumpseat between and behind them, equipped, this time with sheaf of approach diagrams, as if she could make head or tail of them. Ally filled any gaps in the stream of radio calls with a running commentary, translating high-aviation into something fit for mortals. And the more she saw, the more determined Beck became, this was what she wanted to be.

With permission to taxi, Ben urged the ship forward out of the starting blocks and steered it onto a long, paved taxiway. Cleared for a departure to the north, they were suddenly re-cleared by Air Traffic Control for a take off to the south, requiring a quick reprogramming of the flight computers. "Jesus Christ!" Ben fumed as Ally keyed in new directions, "Can't they make up their fuckin' minds?"

Ally stuck out her bottom lip and rubbed his forearm. "Nawww.. Poor Benny. 'Oo 'ant me to go and smack the naughty man?" Ben wrenched his arm away and Ally looked at Beck with a great big grin. "Isn't he precious? Know how you can tell when Benny-boy's flying?"

Beck shook her head.

"Because when the engines shut down you can still hear the whining."

"Haa-fucking-haa!" Ben said, then looked at the giggling blonde. "Know how you can tell when Allycat's flying?" he asked, desperately ad-libbing. "Well... you... she... well neither do I, but she's crap."

Halfway back in the cabin, over the wing, Watson and Vicky sat facing each other in a pair of plush leather armchairs. Vicky reclined, chin on her fist, her legs slightly parted to give an unimpeded view of her cotton-clad charms. Her eyes were fixed on Watson, almost unblinking, as a battle of epic proportions raged between her temples.

Heart-lifting enlightenment versus stifling inculcation, knowledge versus belief, certainty versus faith built on dogma and ritual. And it suddenly occurred to her, she had been fighting this battle for most of her life, a war on two fronts- raging against her own, wicked desires on one flank, while on the other, dashing herself to bits against the bulwarks of an implacable edifice. And all she'd had to do was walk away. Turn around and walk away, from everything and everyone she'd ever known.

Unable to help himself, Watson sat nursing a partial erection, the sight and smell of the young woman sitting in front of him, interspersed with snippets from the night before, rendering self-restraint a near impossibility. This was where it could all go pear-shaped, where hearts could get broken as desires took hold. A holiday fuck, that's all it was. If he could only believe it himself he might even convince her.

'Bing bong'. The seatbelt sign went off. Levelling at cruise, the aviation comedy duo rattled off the last of their checks and sat back. "Well?" Ally breathed and squeezed Beck's knee. "You still wanna be a pilot?"

Beck shook her head. "Not want to be. I'm going to be!"

Ben palmed his forehead. "Your old man's gonna kill us!"

Beck shot a glance over her shoulder. All she could see was the top of two heads over the back of the aft-facing armchair. What she couldn't see, but easily surmised, was one of her old man's hands under Vicky's dress, the other mashing her breast as Vicky gripped his erection while they kissed. She looked back quickly before the others could follow her gaze. She liked Macca. Why spoil her fun?

"Maybe we should try to look all pissed-off and ante."

"But it's fun!" Ally whined.

"What is?"

"Flying, cock-breath. Apart from bloody passengers. Except these guys of course. Hold on..."

Air Traffic control radioed up their inbound clearance and Ally entered the arrival into the computer. There was a sudden presence at the rear of the cockpit and Vicky leant over Beck's seat, a little dishevelled and slightly breathless. "You guys? Are we more than a mile up?"

Ally squinted at her. "Up where?"

"I don't know. In the sky?"

"Above ground level?" Ben replied. "We're just over five."

"Miles?"

Ben and Ally exchanged a glance and Ben nodded. "Uh huh."

"Cool. How long till we get to Sydney?"

"About twenty minutes," Ally replied, "but we're almost at top of descent and it's gonna get bumpy."

"Already?"

"It's only Sydney, Macca. You could pedal there quicker on your bike."

"Naww.." Vicky pouted. Watson had mentioned the mile-high club, just as a joke, and once he explained, sore thingy or not, she wanted in. "Will it be too bumpy to go to the loo?"

"Depends." Ben shrugged. "As long as you don't mind coming out all covered in shi-"

"Loo water, Ben." Ally cut him off. "Don't forget it's Macca we're talking to."

"God dammit!" Vicky breathed, then scurried away.

Ben looked at Ally, frowning. "Did she just take the big fella's name in vain?"

"What's gotten into that girl?" Ally despaired.

Beck sat back, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She knew exactly what. And who.

* * *

Aviation mechanics were working on the airplane before they even disembarked, completing a list of maintenance before its departure for Hong Kong. Ben was first off, walking around the plane in a ritual post-flight inspection. Beck followed him, resplendent in High-Viz and earmuffs, leaving Watson with Vicky at the top of the stairs. She squeezed his arm. "See you in a minute" she whispered, "I want to have a chat to Alana."

Alone in the cockpit, Ally cast her eye over the landscape one last time, checking every last switch was in the right place, every button, every lever. Finally satisfied that all was in order, she racked her seat back and stood, only to find her exit blocked by a comely young woman. "'Sup, Macca?"

Vicky checked over her shoulder then cleared her throat. "Remember the time you got drunk and tried to kiss me?"

Ally rolled her eyes. "Which one?"

"Did you really want to kiss me or were you just mucking around?"

Ally's heart skipped a beat. Her straight-laced pal was looking at her funny. "Why?"

"Answer the question witness. Did you really want to kiss me or were you just teasing?"

Ally hooked a blonde-streaked, brunette tress behind her ear. "Is this going to be another one of your sermons?"

"Need I remind you who schedules your leave?"

"Of course I wanted to kiss you." Ally said brazenly, "What of it?"

The young pilot's eyes flew open as Vicky leant into her, her big, cushiony lips slightly parted, and fused her mouth to Ally's. Her tongue wormed its way into Ally's mouth, as Vicky held her jaw in the palm of her hand preventing retreat. Breaking off after a heavy-breathing minute of deep, wet-mouthed kissing, she took a step back and wiped her mouth. "Gosh!" she breathed while Ally stared at her, gobsmacked, "That was nice."

Stunned, Ally stood rooted to the spot as Vicky turned and sauntered away, without so much as a buy-your-leave. Ally licked her lips. She'd fantasised about that kiss for years, with no idea of just how delicious it would turn out to be. Worst fears confirmed, she narrowed her eyes. Someone had treated the young god-fearing, bible-thumping, goody-two-shoes to a revelation, and there was only one candidate...