Aurora - Wings of the Goddess Pt. 06

Tanya shot a glare at her husband as he lay watching, gently jacking his tool. "Hear that, Mister?" Tanya admonished, "You've gone and worn the poor baby out."

"Naww..." Bragg commiserated, "poor little girl. You'll just have to kiss her better in the morning."

"I'll be right." Beck said, pushing up. "Just let me sleep on it." She gave her pussy a loving pat. "As Damon says. If you could make tyres out of this stuff they'd never wear out."

Tanya laughed. "Oh my god! The world according to Damon."

"Such a wise man!" Bragg said reverently.

Tanya stood and held out her hand. "How about a nice hot shower to finish it off?"

"With French Champagne?" Beck asked hopefully.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. In fact, you know what? Let's go all out and have a bath. What do you say?"

"We won't be wasting too much water?"

The couple swapped a glance. "Just this once should be okay." Bragg said. "If you think of all the times you haven't had a bath, then you're still well ahead."

Beck thought about it then nodded. "Good point."

Tanya hauled Beck off the bed. "Garcon!" she snapped her fingers. "Deux verres de Champagne, tout suite!"

When Bragg rolled off the bed and stood, Beck's eyes lit upon the elephant trunk, swinging between his legs. Not ten minutes ago that thing had been deep inside her, stiff as a post and nudging her larynx. It just didn't seem possible. Tanya followed her gaze and hugged her shoulders. "Just imagine where that beauty's been." she smiled, as if reading Beck's mind.

Bragg looked down and gave his cum-and girl-juice residue-caked cock a loving squeeze. "To paradise and back. " he nodded, "And may there be many happy returns."

NASCENCE

Beck suffered a bout of cold feet.

She felt as if she were sailing head-on into the dark, through uncharted waters, knowing the destination but not the course. She became querulous, she went off sex. She failed an exam for the very first time and had to wait weeks for a resit. She begged to give up. She had a passport, she said, so they could just sail off into the Pacific, do what they'd always dreamed of- point the bow at the horizon and never turn back. She was a scumbag, a feral, a borderline illiterate, and everyone would know she was a fake. She was too dumb anyway and for all their good intentions, everyone was wasting their time.

Secretly hurting for her, Watson took them off to a pretty little sand cay, calmly weathering her mood swings while he coached her through remedial study. No alcohol, no weed, lots of fresh fish and coconuts, two hours a day set aside for swimming. Beck calmed down. She gathered her wits and dialled-in her focus. The second time around she scored one hundred percent, and aced another exam in the very same sitting. It was starting to look possible again.

When Beck's mobile buzzed and she walked into the saloon looking perplexed, Watson knew the time had come. "It's from Tan." she announced, scrolling through the message. "It's another RV."

Typical Tanya. She would send Beck a cryptic text, what she referred to as 'space-time coordinates', requiring them to be at some berth in some marina or in some room in some hotel at some given time. And there she'd be, or someone equally portentous. "Where does she want us this time?" Watson asked, sliding out from behind the table to look over her shoulder.

"The marina. In Cairns. She's booked us a berth."

Watson shook his head. "That bloody woman. She should be running the country."

Beck looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Macca does all the leg work actually. Tanya only has the ideas."

"You're right." Watson nodded. "Macca can run the country. Tanny can be the minister for brainstorms."

Beck gave him a nudge. "And I can be their personal pilot."

Watson gave a grunt of laughter. "Their pilot. With benefits. Imagine how that would go. You three witches would take over the world."

Standing naked beside him, Beck looked up with a mixture of fear and excitement. "Dommy. I think this is it. I think it's really happening."

"Sure does look like it." Watson said and slung an arm over her shoulders. He gave her a squeeze. " 'Captain Beck'. You know that's got such a nice ring to it."

"I'll be an FO to begin with. First Officer Watson."

"That's still got a nice ring to it. Gulfstream five-fifty pilot. Now that! That has a nice ring to it."

"Pilots always refer to themselves as 'drivers'." Beck said. "I'll be a Gulfstream five-fifty driver, even better."

Watson was on the brink of pointing out she had first to pass all of the exams, then do the flying and pass all the tests, then go to Dubai, and learn the intricacies of a technological masterpiece. Instead he just gave her a hug. "I am so proud of you, Becky. What you've achieved is nothing short of a miracle."

"And what you've done for me is nothing short of..." she looked around, eyes filling with tears, "indescribable."

The old man ruffled her hair. "Now there's a good description. Indescribable."

"I mean it, Dommy. If I live to be a thousand years, I still won't be able to repay you."

There was a moment's strained silence, then Watson broke the spell. "When does she want us?"

"Tanny? Tomorrow p.m., that's all she says. How long is it gonna take us to get there?"

They were anchored off the Low Islets, a tiny, palm-fringed dot sporting a story-book lighthouse, just off the tropical coast, sixty-five odd kilometres from the rendezvous. They would be on a beat if they sailed, tacking to and fro across the wind all the way. "Depends. About ten hours by sail, six if we motor."

"Motor?" Beck demanded scornfully.

"Okay, okay. I just didn't know whether you were in a hurry or not."

"When's the latest we can leave here if we want to sail?"

The old man shrugged. "PM? That could mean anywhere from lunchtime to midnight. Let's just say we weigh anchor at oh-seven hundred, we'll be at the marina by three or four in the afternoon."

"That should give us plenty of time."

"For what?"

Beck gripped the waistband of Watson's board shorts and dropped to a squat, taking them with her. His cock sprang free, already stiffening, almost batting her in the eye. "What do you think?"

The old man's eyes rolled back in their sockets as a hot, wet mouth engulfed him. "Mmmm... Becky, that's nice. I was kinda hoping we could, but didn't know if you were too preoccupied."

"For sex?" Beck said, wiping her mouth. "Fat chance." She arched her eyebows. "Hmm... and nice fat cock into the bargain."

"You have such a way with words, Moosh."

"So where do you want me?" Beck asked, her pussy already engorging.

"Let's start in your room." Watson replied, and Beck towed him aft by the cock. "Then the saloon."

"Then up in the cockpit?" Beck asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Steady on. We've only got tonight you know. I can't drop you off looking like you had to swim."

"Don't say that." Beck said, pushing him down.

"What?"

"That."

"What"

"We've only got tonight. We've got forever remember? You promised."

"Yeah, no, yeah..." Watson stammered, as Beck swept her hair back, then bent at the waist, her lips in the shape of an 'O'. "What I mean is..." he rasped as Beck's hot mouth ingested his penis to the back of her throat. After three or four slurps she stopped and looked up.

"What you mean is what?"

The old man closed his eyes and put his hand on the top of her head. "I sure am looking forward to fucking you up in the cockpit. Now get back to work."

"I knew you'd see it my way." Beck nodded, then cupped his balls in a hot little hand and commenced sucking.

* * *

Watson's hopes took a dive when they motored the last few hundred meters into the marina. There was no reception committee as he had hoped- no Tanya, no Vicky, no Ally Cat. Even Bragg would have done- Watson had become genuinely fond of the guy, and was hard pressed to even recall the puffed up, pretentious, clueless buffoon of his previous incarnation. But the berth had been booked, just as promised, and after tying up, while Watson bent to the task of squaring-away, Beck set off for the shops to forage.

She was back in what seemed an improbably short time. The old man heard the distinctive slap of her sandalled feet as she ran down the concrete finger, and felt the yacht heel a little as she jumped on board.

"That you, Moosh?" he called, busy bagging dirty clothes for raid on the laundromat. When Beck didn't answer straight away Watson straightened. "Becky?"

He heard Beck swear under her breath. "Dammit Dommy! I think I forgot the eggs. And would you look at that? I forgot to get the milk and the fruit."

"Jesus Christ!" Watson cursed, "Well what did you get?"

"This!" Beck replied and Watson looked up. Instead of a bulging shopping bag, he came face-to-face with a smiling young woman, her head and shoulders framed by the hatchway. She was hauntingly familiar and Watson had the feeling they'd already met, though he just couldn't fathom where or when.

"How the fuck, over?" she beamed and the penny suddenly dropped. It was Ally. Her hair was longer than the old man remembered, tied back in a high ponytail, and gold-mirrored shades were parked on her head. Her eyes were sparkling, mischievous.

Watson peered past her at Beck. "I don't remember ordering that."

"You did too!" Ally said, brandishing a make-believe shopping list. "See. Randy tartlet. Right at the top."

"Don't they come in packets of six?"

"Mate," Ally replied, "if I even come in one, you're gonna need CPR."

"Well we'll soon find out." Watson said then stood aside and beckoned her down. "Well come on then. Don't just stand there."

"Wow," Ally said in amazement, turning on the spot at the foot of the companionway, "you actually live in this thing?"

"No," Beck retorted, slightly miffed, "we live in the South Pacific. We just eat in here, and sleep, and watch TV, and have nice warm showers."

"Gotcha!" Ally said and pointed, "Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom," she spread her arms to take in the ocean, "living room." She shot Watson a smile. "Well you dirty old perv, aren't you gonna give me a kiss?"

"Is it safe?" Watson asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Without your muzzle?"

Ally looked at him frowning. "What the fuck are you on about, idiot?"

"Nothing." Watson shrugged. "Just something Tan said."

"You'd believe anything that crazy old cum-bucket says?"

"Well I'm starting to."

"Kiss or not?" Ally slapped her thigh as if summoning a dog, "Quick. I'm a very busy girl."

Watson bent to peck her on the forehead but she met him with pursed lips instead, and poked the tip of her tongue into his mouth. They broke off and she smacked her lips. "Hmm... nice."

"Ally just got here in the Gulfstream." Beck said, brimming with excitement.

"That's funny," Watson blinked, then peered out the hatchway, "I didn't hear the crash."

"That's because Ben wasn't flying."

"Is he here as well?"

"Benny-boy's bub is sick." Ally replied, dropping a shoulder to dismount a small backpack. As she bent to open it, Watson looked straight down the front of her shirt at a pair of cream-skinned, sporty little breasts, suspended in their lacy black cradles. "I've got this cocksucker contractor riding shotgun for a while." she grumbled. "Ex-military. What a cunt!"

"What's the matter with Ben's kid?" Watson asked, admiring the dance of Ally's sweet little tits as she wrestled with the contents of the pack.

"Fucked if I know." Ally shrugged, "some sort of baby sickness." Straightening, she handed Watson a package. "Here."

"What's this?" he asked, hefting its weight. Tightly bound in several layers cling-wrap over brown paper, it was about half the size of a shoebox and weighed about a kilogram.

"A present." Ally said. "The boss said to give it to you."

"Tan?"

"Roger."

Watson held it against his ear and gave it a little shake, then squeezed it once or twice and looked up. "What's in it?"

"No fuckin' idea. I didn't ask and he didn't tell, but you probably want to keep it in a safe place."

"Umm... You know, I've actually got a fair idea of what it might be."

"One of the benefits of having your own plane." Ally said and arched her eyebrows. "No fucking security cocksuckers with their stool-pigeon dogs, no fucking X-ray machines. Sorry, Becky. I mean no fucking security officers."

Beck muscled between them and gave the package a squeeze. "That feels like weed."

"No shit, Sherlock." Watson said, pulling it away, his cross-your-heart promise to give up the dope summarily renounced. After this lot, though. He crossed his heart.

Ducking forward into his cabin, Watson stuffed the loot under the mattress for the time being. Once he was in the clear, he would stow the bulk in the top of the mast, bringing it down from time to time to replenish the working stash. Stepping back into the saloon, he paused to admire the bearer of gifts.

Ally was wearing her yellow denim shorts, with the Hello Kitty sewn onto the butt, the high-cut legs revealing her strong, curvaceous undercarriage. She'd slimmed down a little since he'd last set eyes on her, thanks to a recent running campaign, but still boasted the same sculptured thighs, the same shapely knees, the chiselled calves and slender ankles he so fondly recalled. She was wearing a loose, white, pink pin-striped shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the top tree buttons undone. Sensing his scrutiny, she turned and tilted her head. "And you've got something for me I believe."

Watson looked around in confusion. "I do?"

"Y... yyup! About yay high." she held a hand level with the top of Beck's head. "Skinny. Blonde. Big blue blue eyes. Delusions of aviation and an attitude."

"Beck for a kilo of weed?" Watson frowned, "That hardly seems fair."

"Take it or leave it." Ally shrugged.

"Well. There's one born every minute."

"Fuckin' steady on there, partner. That's my new FO you're talking about. Any more of that shit and you won't be getting her back."

Watson snapped his fingers. "Maybe I could throw in some steak knives, make it worthwhile."

Ally looked at Beck and rolled her eyes. "What a fucktard! Is he always like this?"

Beck blinked in surprise, unsure of how to handle Ally's brazen bad manners. "Umm... he's not a fucktard actually. He's actually a pretty good guy."

Ally cupped her hand to Beck's ear. "I know that, and you know that, but for fuck's sake don't let him know."

"Right!" Watson said, rubbing his hands. "So how do you want her? Shall I bag her up or would you rather dine in?"

"I'm gonna have to make it a take-away I'm afraid." Ally said, carefully lowering her backpack onto the table, "But there are a few formalities to go through first. Becky?"

Beck was standing to the side, hands thrust in the pockets of her fawn cotton shorts, rocking from heel to toe. Ally was here to take her away, back to Sydney, to flight school. The moment was nigh, and Beck felt as if her heart was in freefall. She looked at Ally. "Huh?"

"Would it be okay if I had a moment alone with your old man? I want the scoop on all your intimate secrets. Your favourite colour, your favourite animal, what to feed you for breakfast and what-not."

"Oh..." Beck blinked, and looked at Watson. "Dommy?"

"If you don't mind, Moosh. If you could just go and finish the shopping that would be awesome."

"Honestly," Ally said and gave Beck's arm a gentle squeeze, "it's nothing sinister. We just want to talk about how fuckin' awesome you are, and we don't want you getting a big head. Okay? Cos' then your headset won't fit. Pain in the ass, a tight headset, let me tell you."

"Oh..." Beck replied wanly, "...okay."

"You still got my wallet, Moosh?" the old man asked and Beck nodded. "Cool. And don't forget the shopping bags."

They waited while Beck collected herself, then scaled the companionway and stepped onto the hard. Watson ducked his head, watching from a porthole as she walked past smearing her eyes. When he turned back his face was ashen. Ally shook her head and for a fleeting instant looked almost tender. "I just can't imagine how much this must hurt."

"Having you turn up?"

"That too. You poor prick."

"It's okay," Watson shrugged, "I've had worse."

"Worse? Than giving up your girl? You gotta be kidding, surely."

"You know, now you mention it, it does kinda sting."

Ally patted his arm. "And you're putting on such a brave face. I'm impressed Damon, really I am."

Watson gestured at the settee and Ally sat. "Is it convincing? I've been practising in front of the mirror for weeks."

Ally screwed her face up. "Mmm... yeah nahh, not bad. For a beginner. Don't worry though, I can see through it."

"So now you're a radiologist?"

"I'm a chick Damon, that's way better."

"So chicks have X-ray eyes?"

"When it comes to this shit, definitely. A sixth, seventh and eighth sense."

Watson shrugged. "Oh well, look on the bright side. If she pulls this off I'll be set. I can live off the earnings of a woman the rest of my life."

"Well that won't be long."

"Maybe not, but I still won't have to do another day's work."

Ally blew a raspberry. "You're a writer, Damon. You don't work anyway."

"Good point. But the fact is, this is what Becky really wants to do, and there's no sense in making it harder than it has to be."

"You know that's incredibly fucking gracious of you, Damon. And I really mean that."

"Well, you know the old saying, Ally. 'If you love something let it go'-"

" 'And if it doesn't come back, hunt the fuckin' thing down and kill it'. Yeah yeah, I know. Still, if she doesn't come back at least you'll know why."

"Why?"

"Because she's having such a fuckin' good time. Cos' you know how it's gonna be, don't you? Flying all over the world in the Stream, staying in five star hotels... and that's only if the seven stars are all booked out. New York, London, Paris-"

"Thanks Ally," Watson cut her off, "I get the picture. I guess a smelly old boat's not much competition."

"And let's not forget the smelly old man."

Watson looked at her, hurt.

"Do you want to know what it's really like?" Ally said, all hint of mischief gone, and began counting off on her fingers. "Shit clients, impossible demands. Long days, broken nights, endless hours of flight planning. Skinny fuel, bent officials, the random in-flight emergency. AOG for days at a time in Timbuk-bloody-tu, weather so bad you'd shit yourself if you weren't so fuckin' busy. And that's on a good day."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Just saying, is all, it's not all beer and skittles. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the best fuckin' job in the world, but it's still a job. It's hard work. Unrelenting. And if you fuck up sufficiently the results can be spectacular. 'Air Crash Investigation' spectacular if you know what I mean."

"Oh fuckin' awesome." Watson palmed his forehead, "Why don't I just throw her to the sharks?"

"You wanna know the most dangerous part?" Ally said hotly, "Statistically? It's the drive to the fuckin' airport. And who among us thinks twice about that? Right. None of us, not even you."

"But the Gulfstream, Ally. She's still just a kid. You sure she's up to it?"

"What's up? Having second thoughts?"

"No. These are the very first ones that came to me. I've just been sitting on them."

"Mate," Ally cocked her head, "if a little shrinking violet like me can do it... Look... Beck will have the very best training money can buy, and it's all competency based, so she won't set foot in the Stream till she's good and ready. Simple. If she can't make the grade she can't fly the plane. And some of the drivers I've met over the years... you wouldn't turn 'em loose on a fuckin' bicycle. Don't fret Damon, she'll romp it in, I promise."