Havana, Baby!

"Of course it is. Be safe, alright?"

"Always, my love."

She audibly smooched then disconnected.

I turned and looked at the attentive friend that'd been standing next to me the whole time, just beyond the field of view of the camera. I pointed at the screen where the incredibly sexy show had taken place only moments before.

"Did you see that? That's a treat I get because I'm married to a smoking hot airline pilot."

His response was a simple waggle of his nub before he dropped his favorite rope toy in my lap. I tossed it over the couch on the opposite side of the living room, hoping he'd have to navigate the furniture in a longer route in an attempt to wear him out faster. He wasn't fooled. He jumped on then over the sectional, instead. Our dog was too smart!

My wife didn't have any particular breed in mind when we visited the SPCA of St. Charles County the prior December, but when we spotted a particularly timid three-year-old, she knew he'd grabbed my heart. I did a double take of the information card held by clips on his kennel. The breed was listed as "Mixed." I knew he wasn't, because three of them were raised over the years in the home in which my brother and I lived.

"Do you all have a clue what this guy is?" I asked a volunteer.

"Of course we do, but, for some reason, the breed's name frightens off certain people. Calling out a Rhodie is almost as bad as identifying a Pit Bull."

I leaned closer to my wife and whispered, "I grew up with them. Ridgebacks are renowned for being incredibly loyal family dogs."

"Can we spend a little time with him?" Brandi asked the lady who quickly assented.

In short order, we were escorted to an indoor enclosure to meet, greet, and interact with the pooch. Brandi and I sat on the floor. After sniffing my wife's hands and various other places, the dog plopped himself next to her, placed his head in her lap, and nudged her hands for scritches.

"See?" the volunteer spoke. "It's why his name here is Spud ."

"Who would give up such a sweetie ?" Brandi asked as he sought continued attention.

The lady checked the contents of a folder and answered, "The intake paperwork says the owner was transferred to Japan which requires imported dogs and cats to be quarantined up to six months. She couldn't afford the fees and didn't want him to have to endure such isolation. He's been here less than a week."

Two hundred dollars for adoption fees followed by a half-hour drive, and the pooch we renamed "Tater" was the first member of our extended family.

BRANDI
Houston, Texas
Monday, March 2, 2020 4:17am

"Good morning! Raring to go?" Mack asked as I met the crew for breakfast.

"I will be as soon as I have a quart of coffee. The stuff in the room was too horrid to finish. How are you so chipper?"

"I've already been up for an hour and did a few laps on a treadmill in the fitness center."

"An early bird, huh?"

"Yeah. I always have been," he said. "It doesn't matter where I am, I wake up early anywhere."

I envied him. I truly did.

There were several crews in the restaurant wearing various companies' uniforms. It wasn't at all unusual considering the hotels we often occupied offered earlier service to flight crews compared to what was available to their normal clientele.

My plate held only half of a toasted bagel and some sliced fruit while Mack's was piled high with everything the buffet offered. There were six of us at the table consisting of two guys and four gals. The conversation was as lively as could be expected at four o'clock in the morning for the beginning of our second day away from home.

We carried a total of 358 passengers split over two flights from Houston to Cancun, then to Chicago where we overnighted.

Day three sent us to Charlotte, back to Chicago but O'Hare, then to Fort Lauderdale. The Cancun/Chicago flight was our longest of the cycle at four hours. Before I'd accepted the schedule, I'd done my own calculations. The day almost maxed out the regulated hours, but the final day barely edged underneath. We also had a late departure, so the whole crew was able to sleep in or spend the morning relaxing in whatever manner they chose. For me, it was definitely sleeping in.

I FaceTimed my husband before I left my room for the airport shuttle. His answer made me smile.

"Hey there, cutie patootie! How's Fort Lauderdale?" he asked.

"I dunno. I'll let you know if I ever have a chance to explore it," I answered.

"I can't wait until you get home," he said with the warmest smile imaginable.

"Neither can I, Rob. There's something else you might like to think about until then," I said.

"Oh? And what, pray tell, could that be?"

"I'm still wearing the panties I showed you in Houston. I haven't changed them since I left Saint Louis."

He stared at me through his phone's camera. I pressed two buttons on mine.

"Uh … gross?" he observed.

I laughed so hard I had to sit on the bed. "Use that line in one of your novels!"

"That was funny. Gross … but funny."

"I'm joking, but the look on your face was hysterical. Check it!"

I quickly iMessaged him the screenshot.

He laughed when he saw it. "You're such a dork."

"Yeah. And I'm your dork."

"You absolutely are. Let me know when you're on your way home from the airport?" he requested.

"I will. See you in about five hours."

"Love you!" he said before our call ended.

The crew assembled in the lobby and headed out for our final flight of the rotation.

ROBIN
St. Peters, Missouri
Wednesday, March 4, 2020 4:47pm

Rhodesian Ridgebacks don't bark at doorknockers as many breeds do. Tater only trotted to one of the sidelights at the front door to catch a glimpse, while I could see on the CCTV display in the office the FedEx Freight guy who was placing four boxes on the covered porch before ringing the doorbell.

Our dog somehow seemed to know he shouldn't cross the front door's threshold without a leash attached to his collar, so he stepped back a few feet as I brought inside the first box of the stack.

"Yay! They're here!" I exclaimed as I kicked the door closed with my foot.

Though I knew what it contained, it didn't temper my enthusiasm to open it. I clipped the fiberglass straps and, heightening my own anticipation, slowly removed the top.

Tater sniffed the opened box from a number of angles. The scent of twenty freshly printed hardback Advance Reader Copies of my third novel was unfamiliar to him but not to me. As much as a particular aroma is enjoyed by buyers of new cars, the scent thrilled me yet again. I pulled one from the box and examined the cover art. I'd seen it electronically a week before, but the glossy jacket I saw brought more realism.

Unhinged and Unseen
Mark Wright Book 3
Grant Robins
ADVANCE READER COPY ⁠– NOT FOR RESALE

Yeah, I know. Reversing my slightly modified given and surname as my penname is a bit cheesy, but it's served me well.

With Brandi's blessing, the dedication printed in my very first novel of the series read:

This book is dedicated to the memory of C. and R., two people I loved with my entire being. While their time on this planet was far too brief, their spirits shall live in memories forever. It is also dedicated to my wife to be, whose gentle encouragements enabled me to escape the depths. Without her, these words would be nonexistent. My supportive fiancée is the reason I began this journey.

The second novel included only Brandi in the dedication, but it was similarly vague in nature. I preferred writing under a pseudonym and obfuscating specific names as it afforded a little more anonymity. Sure, it wasn't like anyone with half a brain couldn't do some research and put two and two together. I did, though, hand-write something personal into each new book for certain people. I took the copy I'd removed from the box to the desk and wrote on the flyleaf.

B., you've always been my muse. I can't begin to describe my love for you. Your patience and encouraging manner combined with your gentle carriage make a wonderful cocktail I adore. For innumerable reasons, everything about you makes me a stronger man than I could ever be without you. You are my all. I love you.
Yours forever, God willing,
Robin

I wanted my wife to know how much I appreciated her encouragement to write my first novel. I wouldn't have done it without her urging during a dark time in my life. I never thought it'd be published, let alone become a best seller, as had the second in the series. I owed her far more than published words on paper, yet she easily dismissed my perceived debt, and only my own handwriting in ink on paper could acknowledge it.

"Rob, I only offered you a suggestion. Everything you've penned is yours and yours alone. I'm so proud to be your wife!" she told me after the first one hit the shelves.

I brought the additional three cases of books inside so they wouldn't soak up the humidity from the approaching rain. Most people without publishing experience don't realize authors usually have to pay for copies of their own books. Sure, they're deeply discounted, but still not free. I'd paid over $200 for twenty of my first book's advance copies.

Given the success of the first installment in the Mark Wright series entitled Escaping the Depths , they gifted me the first twenty ARCs of the second, Tripwire for Hire , but I had to spend my own money to purchase additional copies. With the third, they sent four cases without any question and advised there were hundreds more headed to reviewers. After seeing preliminary chapters of Book Four, the first book in the series was being translated for markets in Europe and parts of Asia.

At that point, I could tell my publisher was beginning to mollycoddle me. It made my pride prickle, but Brandi, quite thankfully, nudged me back down a few pegs.

"Don't stop being the man you were before. Your humility is a precious part of your soul, Robin. Don't let it fade," she'd mentioned when she sensed a shift. "Remember, babe. It's your words which engaged your readers, but it's them who've brought you here. Without your readers, your tales are only occupying space on your iMac."

Her words were the genesis of the dedication in the draft of Book 4.

A wise sage once reminded me how, without you, the Mark Wright series would be nothing but ordered bytes on a solid-state drive. This book is dedicated to you, the reader, with my humble thanks and gratitude.

Brandi tenderly rubbed my back when I showed her the screen after I'd written it.

"That's it, babe. It's absolutely perfect."

I pulled a FedEx two-day box from the shelf along with a second ARC.

On its flyleaf I wrote:

To the Carlsons:
Brandi and I still feel we owe you a debt we can't ever repay. We're approaching the first anniversary of the marriage you made possible. There's a wink and nod to both of you in Chapter 57 surrounding the events which led you two to meet. I hope you find it entertaining.
It is my hope this finds you well and healthy. Thank you, Todd and Brenda, because Brandi and I truly owe you our world.
All the best,
Rob and Brandi Grant

I sealed the copy in the box, smacked a shipping label on it, and sat it aside.

When he heard a slight roll of thunder, Tater rested his head on my thigh as I checked the weather. I scritched him between his ears with my left hand as I worked the mouse in my right to bring up the track of Brandi's last leg of the sequence. I smiled in relief when I saw her flight was already on the ground at Lambert.

I occupied some time penning additional acknowledgments to family and other friends into more books and boxed them up as well.

Rain is going to make commute nasty. Be home as soon as I can , said an iMessage fifteen minutes later.

I looked out one of the windows and saw ominous and dark clouds. A louder clap of thunder led Tater to hunker down in his crate.

Drive carefully. I'll have dinner waiting when you get home.

😘

Forty-five minutes later I heard the garage door opening.

"Hey, baby," I said as she approached me.

"I missed you," she said, settling herself against me with a warm, tender embrace.

I kissed her softly. It was a kiss of reconnection and reunion. "I missed you, too."

Tater did his best to wedge himself between the two of us until he got his "mother's" greeting.

"It smells good in here," she said, placing her overcoat on the tree by the door. "What's for dinner?"

I lifted a lid from a pot. "Fettuccine alfredo with chicken. There's salad in the fridge and a baguette in the oven that'll be ready in about five minutes."

"Sounds delicious," she said with another kiss.

I plated our meals. We sat together at the bar-height counter.

"How was the rotation?" I asked before I brought my first forkful of twirled pasta and sauce to my watering mouth.

"Pretty easy, actually. The crew meshed really well. I had a great FO. It's too bad crews are assigned nearly randomly. I wouldn't mind one bit flying with them again."

"I know y'all have a no-pair-list kind of thing, but no favorites list?"

"Nope."

"This is the social media era of likes and followers. Crews should be able to do the same thing. Call the home office, Brandi. Be a company influencer. Get them on board."

She chuckled at my suggestion.

"About the only way people finagle it is if their seniority is high enough, and they all bid the same lines. They'd have a better chance of being crewed together again. Otherwise, it's largely coincidence and a damn near impossibility in any regard of getting all six of us back aboard. It's possible an FO and I will fly together for an entire month, but that's only if neither of us trade off rotations after the bid results come in, which would be next to never."

She went into more detail about her four-day three-night sequence as we finished dinner.

"How's Book Four coming along?" she asked as we cleared the counter and began the task of hand-washing the rest of the dishes.

"I think I might have cursed myself when you called from Houston."

"Oh? Why?"

"I told you I'd written a ton, which I did, but I wound up sending more than half of it into the incomplete ideas bin. I've kinda hit a block because I think I'm writing around an untenable angle. I'm a little spooked, to be honest. Signing a contract to write five books might have been a dumb idea."

"Come on, Rob. Stop demeaning yourself. I'll be right beside you wherever we go."

"Oh!" I yelped. "I almost forgot!"

I went to the office to retrieve a certain something.

"Here it is," I said, handing Brandi the first ARC I'd pulled from the boxes.

She brought it to her nose and grinned, then read what I'd written in it more than an hour before.

"I love you so much, Rob. Thank you. Your words are so kind."

"It's all true," I said, opening my arms for her.

She whispered in my ear after lightly nibbling it, "Someone's getting laid."

"Oh?" I whispered back. "Might it be Mark Wright?"

"I don't know about that," she purred, "but I'm pretty sure Grant Robins is. The rest of the dishes can wait but I can't."

She held my hand and led me to our bedroom.

Her suggestion earlier that morning of something was an absolute understatement. While she wore a bra under her uniform's blouse, she wore nothing under her slacks. Her surprise was revealed as she slowly lowered them beyond her bottom. The vocalizations I made as she disrobed were unintelligible even to me.

"Come here, Robin," she beckoned. "I've missed you."

Again, our first kisses were ones of welcome and affection. Holding her naked body next to mine made my earlier worry and self-doubt fade into the background.

"You'd better get your clothes off before I rip them from you," she warned. "The way you're kissing me is making me very horny."

Before I did, I encouraged her to recline at the foot of the bed. I nudged at her thighs, tacitly asking her to open them. I knelt between her legs and smelled her. Goosebumps rushed over wide expanses of my skin. Intense memories flooded my brain of the first time I'd experienced Brandi that way.

It was at our hotel on the eve of our wedding day when I begged her to offer me a hint. Mere minutes before midnight, my brain went haywire. Through her clothing, her feminine fragrance was heady, rich, and undeniably arousing. She'd also revealed, barely hours earlier, she had been so horny fantasizing about us making love for the first time. She told me she needed to escape between rehearsal and dinner to change her panties. I never admitted to her how I had to fight the urge to rub one out in the shower after I'd returned to my room. The cold water did its job.

I nuzzled my nose into the curls on my wife's mons. The texture had entrapped me the first time I'd run my fingers through it. It was such a beautiful golden hue. She tilted her pelvis upwards and groaned audibly when I placed my tongue to her clit and massaged it.

"Robin⁠—oh !" she yelped when her orgasm arrived.

I stood from my crouch and removed my own clothes. We became one flesh.

"I adore you, Brandi," I whimpered as she accepted me into her pussy.

In mere minutes, clutching my wife wherever my hands happened to be, I spent myself in glorious, rapturous spasms.

"I love you so much , Robin," she whispered into my ear while comfortingly tickling my back with her fingernails as my insensate self slowly returned to Earth. "I know I might say this too often, but … I'm still so happy you and I managed to meet."

"Thank you, Brandi. You mean the world to me. If not for you …"

"You don't need to say it, baby. I understand. You owe me nothing. Just think. Five years after you peed on my fence, here we are, naked and screwing."

I burst out laughing and hugged her tightly to me.

BRANDI
Friday, March 6, 2020 12:08pm

"Oh, wow! It's such a gorgeous day!" I exclaimed from outside the opened back door. "We should take a walk."

Rob joined me and looked at the sky.

"Great idea. Let me go save my files and start a backup, put on shoes, and grab my jacket. It hasn't been this nice since like, what, October?"

I did many of the same things. Tater's nub wagged happily when I pulled his leash from the drawer and attached it to his collar. It became more animated as Rob and I approached the front door.

"Don't think I didn't notice your schedule," he said ten minutes into our stroll of the neighborhood.

"I know, baby, and it kills me, too. I tried to get the day off but couldn't. I wasn't even able to find a reserve slot to swap to. Such are the perils of being a captain with low seniority during spring break season."

"But it's our first anniversary ."

"Seriously, honey. I tried my best, but I lost. Thanks to colleges all over the country dumping hundreds of thousands of party-craving people on vacation at the same time, it's almost every bit as busy as November and December."

"But still."

I stopped walking, and Tater sat next to me on the sidewalk.

"Hey. Come on, Rob. Are we okay?" I asked with a pout, sensing some sort of resentment from him I'd never felt before.

"Don't look at me that way," he said.

I was worried. I believed he was legitimately angry with me, and I looked away from him. That was, until I felt his hand softly squeeze and pet my butt right there on the sidewalk in full view of who knows how many houses' front windows.