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He placed his hand in the warmth between her legs, cupping her crotch as she sought the moisture in his mouth with frenzied passion. When she felt the pressure of his fingers against her sensitive vulva, she gripped his hand with her thighs, holding him fast.
"Ooh," she groaned softly as he massaged her like a sculptor with clay.
"I should warn you," he said between kisses, "please don't scream. The door is hardly soundproof."
"Too bad," she whined softly.
She rose, stood in front of him, and slowly untied the leather cords belting her shorts. She teased him, wagging her hips, as he softly stroked her butt.
"Do what you did before," he requested after she'd unsnapped the fastener and lowered the zipper.
"What. This?" she asked, bending forward.
He buried his face in her bottom, tracing his nose to the puffiness of her vulva at its base.
"You smell so good," he groaned. "I want more."
She began to remove her shorts but left her panties in place because she remembered how much he loved seeing her in the white ones she'd worn the first time they undressed together. She presented her backside again, and he accepted her offering. He slowly lowered her panties over her hips.
His breath caught when the moist fabric at the center peeled away from denuded flesh. A silky, clear thread of her wet lust stretched as the gusset of her panties was separated from her skin.
"Hell's bells," he hissed.
"What is it, baby?"
"You shaved." His voice squeaked.
She shook her head. "Got a wax. Do you like it?"
He separated her lips and placed his nose between them. He inhaled deeply. Her clitoris was just out of his reach, but he lapped into her slit, relishing the flavor of her dew.
"That feels so good, but I want you inside me. Right freaking now ."
She grabbed him, pulled him from his seat, and damn-near threw him away from her as she reclined it. The back of the seat reached its extent and she climbed atop it, presenting her ass to him.
Her shorts and panties bound her knees, a sight he found incredibly erotic. He unfastened his cargos and pushed them down his thighs. Peggy giggled when she saw his cock spring free and bounce when it was released from its confinement.
"I want it. Please take me," she hissed.
He penetrated her.
"Yeah," she quietly moaned. "Right there, baby. There's the spot. Do it harder," she begged, and he did.
He grasped her hips and drew her against him. He pushed into her body until no distance remained between them.
"Yeah… yeah… yeah," she stuttered. "Please, baby, I want a cum."
He waited for her, slowly withdrawing then pushing gently but purposefully against her, feeling her insides quiver and squeeze. Just mere inches of motion made her shiver.
"What you're doing feels so good," she whimpered, massaging her clitoris with her fingers.
"Oh oh oh oh," she moaned before she began to utter gibberish, clenching every muscle in her body as her orgasm poured from her tightness and washed over her soul.
"You're so beautiful, Peggy. God you're built so perfectly. I can't begin to describe how good your tight little cunt feels around me. I've never… Unghh . Oh fuck," he growled.
His praise washed over her.
Sights, smells, tastes, and sounds finished him. He erupted against her womb with such force he worried the crew would hear his delight.
"Yes, baby! I feel your cum! I feel it!"
He grasped her ass. Her flesh went pale under the pressure until his orgasm was complete.
"Stay like this, stay there," she groaned, cocking her hips back and forth, twisting his dick in mild arcs. "It feels so good there… right there… right… oh fuck!" she hissed, sliding slowly forward drawing him out a few inches.
She dribbled on the leather upholstery, panting through her second climax.
"I'm sorry," she giggled a few moments later, "I've made a mess of your seat."
He playfully smacked her rump and pulled himself out of her body, watching his frothed semen follow. As she had in the shower, she pressed her hand to her vagina to hold the disgorgement at bay. Her laughter encouraged more to drip between her fingers onto the leather.
She giggled. "Oh, crap!"
"The lav is back there!"
Helping her to a stand, he watched her waddle down the narrow aisle with a hand between her legs and her shorts descending to her ankles.
He followed behind her. He knew the facility would be unfamiliar and unusual to her. He slid the door open and showed her how to unlatch and raise the seat hiding the toilet. She sat and cleaned herself with tissue, laughing the entire time because she saw she'd dripped all the way down her thighs almost to her knees.
She washed her hands at the small sink, removed her shorts and panties, and paraded her partially naked body back as Eric finished cleaning the cushion.
"Holy crap that was so awesome." He giggled like a schoolboy.
He watched Peggy pull a pair of panties out of her purse and slip them on, followed by her shorts.
"You always keep an extra in there?" he asked with a grin.
She laughed. "After what happened at a pharmacy a couple of weeks ago, I do."
She plopped into her seat with an audible sigh, grinning.
"So this is what it's like?" she asked.
"What what's like?"
"Having sex at," she looked at the LCD screen, "thirty-five thousand feet?"
"I guess you're right."
"You guess? You mean you've never…"
"Nope. Never."
"You own this bird, and you never once brought a girlfriend on it and did it?"
"I never met a girl I wanted to have fun with like this," he answered. "Until you, that is."
Peggy smiled and absentmindedly played with her hair, twisting a tassel around her finger. She smacked her tongue.
"Might I have some water? I'm kinda parched after that workout," she said with a wry smile.
"Of course. I'm a horrible host." He chuckled as he sprung up and went to the cold-cabinet at the front of the plane and brought back two bottles. She opened hers and gulped half of it down.
She burped, barely audibly. "Oops. Excusez moi ," she said with a blush.
"It's the cabin pressure," he said with a subtle wink.
She laughed and smiled. "You're absolutely goofy, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
She bobbled her bottle of water and looked at the LCD screen. It showed they were flying west at 515 miles per hour, at thirty-five thousand feet, over Little Rock, Arkansas. She peered out the window and saw fragments of civilization below.
She smiled broadly and began cracking up. "I just realized something."
"What?" he asked.
"You and I are now new members of a club."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. The mile-high club."
He was silent for a few moments. "Whoa." He furrowed his brow then grinned broadly. "Yeah!"
Peggy propped her foot on Eric's leg once again, and he slowly began to massage it. She sighed in relaxation and pleasure at his touch. He thought her feet to be very, very pretty. Perfectly sculpted, incredibly smooth, with beautifully painted nails.
"So, what happens in Oklahoma City?"
"I think we should go have a nice dinner, maybe enjoy a bottle of wine, and relax."
"Is that all?" she asked.
"I think so, why? Something else you'd rather do?"
"I was thinking maybe you and I could enjoy the whole evening together." She sighed under the tenderness of his massage. "Stay the night at the hotel with me."
He smiled broadly. "Sounds very tempting, but I don't think it'd be a good idea."
"Why's that?"
"Because, if I did, I'd want to keep you up, and we can't have you all worn out tomorrow."
"Boy, who do you think I am?" she asked wickedly.
"I think you're a woman who wants to impress."
"I'm also a surgeon accustomed to high stress, late-hour diversions from my normal schedule. I think I can manage some low stress, late night cardio."
"Yeah?"
She smiled sweetly. "Yeah."
"Well, alrighty then," he answered, beckoning her to offer him her other foot, which she did.
"Good lord, Eric. You keep doing that," she moaned, "you might relax me to the point you'll have to take me off this plane over your shoulder."
She rocked her hips, settling more relaxed and comfortable in her seat with an incredibly handsome man giving very thorough, very pleasant attention to her heels, toes, soles, and… soul. The two sat silently for several minutes, both enjoying what they were giving or receiving.
"So, how do you think today went?" she asked.
"I think you were impressive."
"You were pretty quiet, though."
"I kind of needed to sit on the sidelines because I don't want the risk of even appearing to exert pressure. I wanted to ask my own questions and join the conversations, but I didn't think it'd be appropriate."
"What kind of questions?"
He grinned coyly. "Oh, you know, things like 'What's the name of the delightful fragrance you're wearing?' or, 'How is it you make your business suit look so incredibly feminine and sexy?' or, 'May I smooch your umbilicus again?'"
She laughed so quickly and forcefully it made her snort. "You used a doctor-word! Nice ! Probably wise to have kept your mouth closed, though."
Peggy stroked the side of Eric's face as a subtle form of praise. She knew she'd always have a weak spot for his sense of humor.
"But, seriously. I want to know how you plan on measuring data. How are you going to gauge the efficacy of one particular protocol over another? How are you going to level the field?"
"You mean, how will I form a baseline across both the test and the control groups?"
Eric nodded.
"That's the very question to which I've devoted most of my thought, because I'm not certain. I think a good group of researchers will be invaluable. I want lots of opposing theories so the protocol can be brought to the point the data will be rock solid."
"So… wait. You're saying establishing a research protocol is adversarial?"
"Want to know why?"
He nodded.
She spent ten minutes describing the whole process, as well as what her hypotheses and conditions entailed. He listened to her with rapt attention. Her brilliance wasn't inhibited in any way. He hadn't even noticed the sounds of the engines spooling down until the intercom chimed.
"Mister Reiter, Doctor Foreman, we'll be landing in about fifteen minutes," spoke Captain Sanz.
Peggy glanced at the LCD. They were fifty miles away from Will Rogers Airport, descending through eighteen thousand feet at 345 miles per hour and slowing.
"Come here." Eric beckoned with his finger.
She leaned forward in her chair. He brushed her cheek softly with his fingers before kissing her.
She smiled. "That's always nice."
"I had to. Gotta buckle up now so I can't do it again for a while."
The two strapped into their seats and watched Oklahoma City arrive beneath them. Peggy saw the OU Stadium as they turned to the north. They landed a few minutes later.
"Where do you feel like having dinner?" Eric asked.
"Any good steakhouses?"
"Of course."
"Take me to your favorite," she suggested.
"Excellent."
The plane taxied to its hangar, and the pair disembarked. Walking to its exit, Eric neared one of the workers who was wearing coveralls.
"Kevin, when do you think the annual on my Skylane will be finished? I'm planning to fly it to the ranch soon."
Kevin Mace was the best A&P mechanic on the field and was in high demand. He was also the flight instructor who trained Eric how to fly and to earn his instrument rating.
"She's all yours. I finished it this morning," he answered.
"Outstanding. You'd'man ," he said and fist-bumped him in passing.
Five minutes later, Peggy and Eric were in his Victory Red Silverado LTZ Crew Cab, heading toward Interstate 244.
"What's a sky lane?" Peggy asked after he'd settled into the traffic.
"A single-engine airplane."
She stared at him for a few seconds.
"What's wrong?"
"You have another airplane?"
He nodded.
"And more pilots?"
"No, I fly my Skylane myself."
"You're a pilot, too?"
"Yeah?" he answered questioningly.
She only shook her head.
He chuckled. "What's the matter?"
"You're full of surprises," she said.
"It's no big deal. Just about anyone can be a private pilot."
"Then why didn't you fly the jet?"
"Because a Citation is way above my skillset. Monica has close to thirty thousand hours in total time. I'm just over four hundred."
"Why not take the jet to your ranch?"
"Well, the Citation costs about two thousand dollars per hour to operate. The Skylane, about four hundred. Also, it can't land there. The asphalt strip is too short and can't handle the weight."
About ten minutes later, a valet took Eric's keys, tagged them, and handed him a ticket. Eric escorted Peggy through the doors and was met by the hostess.
"Good evening, Mr. Reiter, it's been a while. Table for two?"
"Hey, Sherri. Yes, please."
"Give me a couple of minutes," she said, scurrying into the dining room. She returned quickly and escorted them to a table in a quiet corner.
Eric had a strong affinity for the particular steakhouse. Of course, the cuisine deserved the Michelin stars it earned, but it was the dress code he preferred. They would have been thrown out of even inferior establishments due to their casual attire, but didn't draw any concern from the staff or any other patrons.
"Can I see your menu when you're done with it? Mine doesn't list prices."
"No," he said, grinning.
"Oh, okay." She grinned back and chuckled. "Live dangerously, then."
He perused the wine list. When a steward came to the table, Eric requested a bottle of Two Hands Shiraz Ares 2014. The sommelier returned with it moments later, presented the bottle, then uncorked it. He poured a small sample into a crystal goblet and waited.
Eric slid the goblet across the white tablecloth to Peggy. "Opinion?"
Peggy's eyebrows arched. She picked up the glass, swirled the wine to aerate it, inhaled the aroma, then took a sip. "It's beautiful," she said and nodded to the steward.
He carefully poured the bottle into a decanter then poured from it into their goblets. Their dinner orders were taken a few minutes later.
"Okay, I just have to ask," Peggy began. "You tooled around Orlando for a week in an Audi R8. A quarter-million-dollar hunk of bad-assery. We rode around in Atlanta today in a Mercedes-Benz limousine, and I've spent three hours on your, what'd you say, twenty-million dollar Cessna Citation, and you own a Skylane."
"The limo wasn't mine, it was a service."
"You drive a Chevy pickup."
He laughed. "Yeah. Don't get me wrong. The Audi I rented was incredible. It was fun."
"I'll say."
"The R8 was exactly that. Fun . They're impractical, so I can't see myself owning one. My truck fits my lifestyle better. I tow things, you know."
"Of course you do." She smiled. "You have a ranch."
"Yup."
"But you can own more than one vehicle."
"I also have a Cadillac Escalade. You know, for when I need to look a little more formal." He postured comically. "Besides. The Skylane is the Chevy of the skies. I work hard, but I like to have fun, too. I think I'm going to sell the Citation soon."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm kind of out of the business. The venture capitalists who originally financed Reiter-Marlin didn't see the benefit of it, which is why I own it instead of the company. It was a tremendous asset for when I needed to fly all over the world meeting customers or suppliers… but those days are over."
"You're retiring?"
"Sort of. I'm only thirty-seven. But I'm kind of tired of it all."
He'd begun to explain his reasoning when their meals were served.
She listened to him, nodding her understanding, as he described how his passions were changing. He no longer wanted to "conquer the world," as he described his earlier years. He wanted to improve it. He also wanted to settle back and work with charities, create scholarships, and simplify his life.
As they continued to dine, she began to tell him more about how she wanted her own career to progress. She loved her profession and was rightfully proud of her successes. The excitement of being able to do research was what propelled her, but always led to disappointment when funding was refused.
The waiter brought the tab in a leather portfolio and placed it in front of Eric. Peggy quickly snatched it away and said, "Please let me buy dinner."
"Uh, Peggy… this is kind of an expensive steakhouse. The wine alone was over six hundred dollars."
"I'm familiar with the label," she said as she extracted her wallet, and from it, a card.
"I don't want you to spend your money on this."
"Do you know who I am?" She peered at him.
"I guess not."
His pulse quickened. "Spill, girl. Tell me what's going on."
He watched her staring into the distance with a thoughtful expression forming on her face.
"Suffice it to say I'm not the struggling doctor you might think I am. I do alright. I think you termed it 'fluff and nougat'? Well, I've got almonds and caramel. I'll explain… if you'll make a promise to me."
"What can I do?"
"What happens after tomorrow?"
"After the meeting, you'll be flown home. The meeting might be grueling and tedious, but after it, I'll give the nod to my attorneys, then I'm done."
"Okay. Make me this promise. When you have some free time, come to Orlando."
"I'd love to," he said, but his eyes questioned.
"You'll need to come when I'm not working," Peggy added.
"Understood. You're on call for two days. Does it count as working?"
"Only if my phone rings."
"Can I take a chance and go back with you?"
She considered his question for a few moments. She nodded. "Yeah."
"Wow," he said, staring at the decanter on the table.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm pretty sure I had only two glasses of wine since I'm driving, but… am I drunk? All this seems so insanely weird all of a sudden."
"We both had two," she assured him.
The waiter came to fetch the folio, and a minute later brought it back to her. She replaced her card into her wallet then signed the slip. Eric noted the total at the bottom. $822.40 before tip. She rounded it up to an even $1000.00.
It was quiet at the stand when the valet left to fetch Eric's truck. In the moment of solitude, Peggy offered Eric a kiss, squeezing the hand he was holding.
"Where is this ranch of yours?" she asked.
"It's a little over two and a half hours away by car. It's just outside Nocona, Texas."
"Oh? How big is it?"
"About twelve hundred acres."
"You own a two-square-mile chunk of Texas, right on top of the Barnett shale, in the horse country," she said as if she was thinking about something else. "When did you buy it?"
"Seven years ago, after Lance and I sold our third start-up. How do you know about that stuff? You're from California and live in Florida. Most people from those states think of Texas as fly-over country."
Peggy's mind was racing. She wanted to dismiss it all as purely coincidental, but couldn't, so she guarded her words. She didn't want to distract his driving. He wanted to watch her face and her body language, but it was dark in the cab of the truck and traffic was too heavy to afford more than a glance.
"There's something you're not telling me," Eric said.
"Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure. Alright," he said, sensing her hesitance. He was curious as all hell but didn't press.
They arrived at the hotel just before nine o'clock. He fetched both of their suitcases out of the back seat of the truck and walked toward the entrance with her.
"The room is in your name and has already been paid for. Room service and minibar, too."
"Sure. Because I'm starving," she said with humorous sarcasm.
She retrieved her keycard from the front desk.
