Off Shore

"This will only take a few minutes. I'm working on a project off-shore, about 200 miles from here, on an island in the straight. It's supposed to be self-sustaining, but sometimes requires my hands-on. The clientele is demanding, which is why I'm up before the crack of dawn on Saturday."

The mention of "hands on" reminded Lynn that literally moments earlier she had been sitting where Mike had in the back of the car, her shorts down around her ankles, knees up, with a glass dildo between her legs, and at least figuratively, cumming in his lap.

True to his word, he alerted the driver to a single light about 300 yards ahead. The driver turned left onto a dirt road across a flat freshly plowed field. The breeze through the driver's open window welcomed them with the scent of anise and raw, bare earth moist with the morning dew.

She peered through the mist at the concrete block building faced with a row of six large corrugated metal roll up doors. The driver stopped at the first door. Mike got out, held open the door and extended his hand. "You're welcome to join me if you have time for a detour."

With her handbag over her left shoulder, she took his hand and held onto his gaze to distract him from her somewhat disheveled appearance. She led with her feet and deftly uncoiled from the back seat. This was a dance move she'd practiced with many men, who were more than willing to pull her up from the seat of a car and into their waiting arms.

"I don't know about the detour, but if you'd be so kind, perhaps I could use your restroom."

He smiled. "Well, there's a port-a-potty in the back of the hangar. It's all yours." He held her hand a moment longer and walked with her to the key pad on the front of the hangar next to the corrugated door.

"The stall should be unlocked and stocked with toilet paper. Other than that, I can't say that I've ever paid it a visit, fortunately," he said with another smile.

She wobbled over the compacted dirt path and stepped up onto a 10 by 10 concrete pad which supported the bathroom stall and also served as the wash room. The so-called sink consisted of a frost-proof stand pipe and hose bib connected to a coil of green hose.

She pulled open the plastic stall door, stepped inside, lifted the black toilet lid and peered into the void which thankfully smelled like disinfectant. With shorts and panties down, she lifted herself up onto the seat. Through her open-toed kitten heel shoes, she could see the dirt from the field in the space between her toes.

Fortunately, the fresh coat of lavender toenail polish had survived so far.

The same could not be said for her formerly cum soaked panties, which now appeared almost starched into a position following curve of her pussy. She relaxed and heard her stream reach the distant blue pool.

A roll of toilet paper rested on a shelf next to a metal mirror. Through the mirror she could just make out her eyes, which required a swipe of shadow grabbed from her purse, along with lip gloss. She used her tongue to brush her teeth.

Holding her shorts, panties, shoes and a roll of toilet paper in one hand, she used her other to turn on the hose which now served as a bidet between her her legs. The cold water flowed over her runway patch of pubic hair which she dabbed dry using the roll of toilet paper. She slipped back into her shorts and shoes and stashed the starched panties into her handbag.

Mike and his pilot had already left the hangar and moved the airplane out onto the approach; Mike was talking to the pilot who was at the throttle. Mike sensed Lynn's presence and turned his head.

"I'd love to take you up on the offer Mike, but I've got to be somewhere at 1:00 pm today."

"Fair enough," he said. We'll be moving at 300 mph. And reaching a 20,000 foot elevation. From where we land, it's a short quad ride to a marina. It is 21 nautical miles to the island.

Once we arrive, my job's easy; but as I mentioned requires hands on the controls. It's only 6:30 a.m. George gets paid for standby, so he'll be happy when you return.

With that, Mike reached out and she took his hand performing another all too familiar move she'd practiced with other men. Holding on to Mikes hand, glided up the steps to cockpit, twisted around into the back seat and buckled herself in.

Mike sat in the front seat next to the pilot and the three of them listed to the crackle of radio noise through headsets.