Bret presses the last number and closes his eyes. An eternity passes before on the third ring, Bill answers, saying, “What now? I named you the director of operations to alleviate the necessity of micro-managing everything, so what’s the problem.”

A nervous chuckle, and Bret says, “I was wheeling and dealing, putting everything together when I reached the point of needing to look you in the eye and determine if I’m still employed.”

The silence sends a chill down Bret’s spine, he squeezes the phone tighter, and finally, Bill says, “I can give you fifteen minutes.”  

“I’m on my way.”

Bret grabs the packet from his desk and runs the hundred feet to Bill’s office. Francine jumps with a start when he barges in, pointing toward Bill’s door. “He said for you to go on in.”

Bill suppresses a smile. “Am I the owner of a Gulfstream 550?”

From in front of Bill’s desk, Bret shakes his head, saying, “No. which is why I needed to tell you face to face.”

Bill leans back in his chair, a frown replacing the smile, “I’m listening.”

“Presently, the waiting list on the 550 is almost a year. So I worked out a deal to buy a 650 now used as a demonstrator.”

Bill’s head tilts, “I’m not in the practice of buying used.”

“This bird comes with less than two hundred hours’ total time. So, this is a new airplane. And as a factory-owned plane, they checked every box on the page for bells and whistles.”

Bill nods. “What’s the difference between the 550 and 650?”

“The 650 is bigger, faster, and goes further. Not to mention the cabin is quieter.”

Bill’s eyebrows arch, and he asks, “How fast are we talking?”

Bret smiles, “An airliner cruises at Mach 0.76.” Bill nods. “This bird’s top cruise is Mach 0.92, and we can cruise nonstop for seven thousand miles at Mach 0.90.”

Bill squints. “Mach is the speed of sound, right?” Bret nods with a broad smile.

Bill rubs his chin. “How much more money are we talking?”

“We buy this plane for ten million less than the 550.”

“More airplane for less money? How the hell did you pull this off?”

“By using the money we save for a deposit of a 700.”

Bill sits upright. “Are you telling me you bought two planes?”

“Technically.”

“Technically, hell. You either bought two aircraft, or you didn’t.”

“We bought the 650 and will take delivery in two weeks. Then, we placed a deposit on a delivery spot on the 700.”

Bill nods. “When do we need to pay for the 700?”

“The delivery date is in twelve months. At that point, we can trade in the 650 or operate two airplanes.”

“How big of a hit will we take trading this one on the new one next year?”

“None, they guaranty the purchase price as the trade-in when we take delivery of the new bird.”

Bill rocks in his chair. “I hate buying anything sight unseen.”

Bret hands Bill the packet. “They emailed me pictures. Can you free your calendar Wednesday?” Bill nods. “Fantastic. Pick someplace you need to be. Wednesday morning, they are dropping by for a demo ride.”

***

Celia’s index finger stabs the blinking red button on her phone and, in her most pleasant business voice, says, “Mark Johnston’s office, how can I help you?”

His off-key whistling stops and Bret asks, “Hey, babe, any chance of you getting a couple of weeks off?”

Caught off-guard, Celia shrugs with an outstretched palm, asking the only question coming to mind. “When?”

“Starting this weekend.”

“Which is it?” Celia says.

“Which is what?”

“Whatever’s up your sleeve, is it expensive or hair-brained?”

“Now you’ve done it. You got my sensitivity all up in an uproar. But, first, this isn’t costing us anything, and second, all my ideas are well thought out.”

“Bret, my job doesn’t lend itself to taking time off for every little whim. So what’s on your mind.”

“I start training on the Gulfstream in Long Beach Monday. How does two weeks in a five-star hotel on the beaches of Southern California sound.”

“Out of our budget.”

“Wrong again. This is business and on my expense account, so what do you say?”

“Sounds heavenly, but the chance of Mark giving me the time off is a long shot.”

“Long shots come with the biggest payoffs, so check with Mark. The worst he can do is say no. Love you.” Before Celia can reply, the line goes dead.

Before she hangs up, Celia’s peripheral vision catches a blurry sea of red coming through the door. Flashing her best welcome to my lair smile, she says, “May I... Oh my God.”

A massive behemoth in a red tracksuit tower’s in front of her desk. She stares at the bulging muscles and his rippled abs revealed through the jacket unzipped halfway to his navel in spellbound fascination. Celia’s voice is crackling when she asks, “What can I do for you?”

He slowly scans the room before returning his attention to Celia. “Where’s Xillia?”

Her head leans back far enough to be uncomfortable. Finally, Celia asks, “How tall are you? You must be at least six-eight.”

“Closer to seven feet. Is this still Xillia’s office?”

Her head shakes, and she says, “Her promotion came with a new office. I’m Mark’s new administrative assistant. May I be of help?”

A smile spreads as he asks, “Is Mark in?” Celia nods, and he says, “Good, tell him DeShawn Abrums is here.”

Celia darts into Mark’s office without knocking. Then, leaning protectively against the door, she says, “Somebody’s waiting in my office.”

Mark’s eyes roll upward as his head tilts, “Does this somebody have a name, by chance?”

“You don’t understand. This is the biggest man I ever saw.”

With a hint of a smile, “Think back. Did you ask his name?”

Celia nods, and Mark asks, “Good girl. Did he tell you his name?”

Again she nods, “DeShawn Abrums.”

Mark chuckles, “You obviously don’t follow basketball.” Celia shakes her head, and Mark says, “Catch your breath before inviting DeShawn in. He’s a client.”

Celia takes several deep breaths, shoots Mark a questioning glance, and opens the door. “Mr. Abrums, come right in.”

DeShawn stops in front of her with a broad smile, extending his hand. “What’s your name, sexy lady?”

The unexpected question draws a blank stare. “Ah... Celia.”

“Well, Ah Celia, pleased to meet you.” His hand encompasses hers in a tender handshake.

His touch short circuits her mind, jumbling her thoughts. “God, you’re humongous. I mean, thank you.”

DeShawn does his best to suppress his growing smile, asking, “Do you need a drink, Celia?”

“Are you kidding me? A drink is the last thing I need right now.”

DeShawn chuckles, “I was referring to water.”

“Oh yeah, good idea. Go right in Mark’s waiting.” Celia says, darting toward the small refrigerator behind her desk.

DeShawn closes Mark’s door, chuckling. “Damn, Mark. Celia’s one squirrely little gal. But she’s a fox.”

“She’s also married,” Mark says, laughing.

DeShawn rubs his chin, “Is that new prospectus ready?”

Mark nods, “We put a fork in it last week.”

“Good, Because I ran across something new I want you focusing on.”

An hour later, their business concluded, DeShawn stands. He shakes Mark’s hand, saying, “Nice doing business with you again. Stay in touch.”

DeShawn turns to leave, and Mark stops him, “You forgot your copies.”

With a wink, DeShawn says, “I might be ready to pull the trigger on that other deal we discussed. Why don’t you send Celia to my suite with my copies?”

“This isn’t the nineteen-fifties, so whatever happens is up to her how far she goes to tempt you.”

“Fair enough, I’ll expect her in an hour.” DeShawn turns for the door before facing Mark again. “Any suggestion on what fires Celia’s rockets?”

Mark burst out laughing. “Be direct. Her fire burns twenty-four-seven. She just needs to be pointed in the right direction.”

Half an hour after DeShawn leaves, Mark hits the intercom, “Celia, I need a moment.”

Mark motions to the chair in front of his desk. “Celia, how about helping me with a bit of negotiation?”

Celia shrugs. “I guess. What do you need?”

“This afternoon, I lured DeShawn right up to the boat, and he spits the hook.”

Celia’s face contorts. “I don’t understand. He did what?”

“You distracted him to the point of not paying attention to a word I said. You’re all he wanted to talk about.”

Her face flushes. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. I assure you I maintained no intention of distracting him.”

“You did nothing wrong. But we might use DeShawn’s attraction for you in our favor if you’re willing to help us out.”

“Mark, are you insinuating what I think you are?”

Mark raises his hands defensively. “I find your reaction insulting. So we give you a chance of a lifetime, and you repay me by calling me a pimp.”

Celia shakes her head vigorously. “You misunderstood me. I didn’t mean to imply anything of the kind. Please forgive me.”

“That will be all, Celia. Call Xillia and tell her I need her immediately.”

Celia stands, head bowed and eyes welling in tears. “No, please, give me a chance.”

Mark’s stern expression doesn’t waver. “Don’t give this a second thought. You’re obviously too immature for this job, but we will find you a more suitable position.”

“Mark, please. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

He holds a manila folder, “Would dropping this off to DeShawn be within your boundaries of sensibility?” Celia nods. Next, Mark gathers a legal document. “Would expressing how beneficial our handling this project be within your boundaries of morality?”

Celia nods. “Just give me a chance to prove myself. Please.”

Mark studies her for a long moment, holding out the folder, saying, “Don’t make me come to hate this decision.”

“I assure you won’t, sir.”

Celia reaches for the folder, but Mark pulls the file out of her reach. “I hate being the only one with skin in a game. So let’s sweeten the pot. If you return with DeShawn’s signature on the contract for the new project, you earn a thousand dollar bonus.”

A wave of confidence flowing through her, Celia smiles. “Would you consider sweetening that pot with a vacation?”

“That’s a bigger ask than the money. So why do you need the time off?”

“Bret took the job with Bill. Next week he starts training in Long Beach for two weeks, and he invited me to go with him.”

Mark studies her for a moment. “Deal. DeShawn signs with us, and you spend two weeks on the beach with hubby.”

Celia jumps to her feet. “Where’s DeShawn staying?”

“Tony’s waiting for you out front. He’ll drive you.”

In the doorway to his suite, DeShawn’s eyes sweep over Celia’s body. “Well, hello, little lady. This is unexpected. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Mark forgot to give you your copies. Being in the area, I volunteered to drop them off.”

“Well, bless your little heart. Come in.”

Celia’s eyes lock with his. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

DeShawn shakes his head, “Not a thing.”

His hand covers the small of Celia’s back, escorting her inside. Once she’s seated on the sofa, DeShawn is at the bar pouring two martinis. He hands her one and raises his in a toast, “To profitable deals.”

As Celia takes a sip, DeShawn rests a hand on her thigh. “God, you are beautiful.”

“I’m also married.” Celia stares at his hand,

DeShawn smiles, “Marriage is a wonderful institution. I tried it twice myself.”

“DeShawn, I brought along the documents you forgot to sign this morning. So if you’ll sign them, I’ll leave you to enjoy your afternoon.”

He removes his hand from Celia’s thigh and says, “Relax, you’re the only thing on my mind this afternoon.”

Celia’s face burns as she says, “I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression. But I’m very married, and the only reason I’m here is for business.”

DeShawn smiles. “I understand, and if you answer one question, I’ll sign your papers, and you can go.”

Celia nods as DeShawn places her hand on his crotch. She gulps as his anaconda twitches beneath her fingers. Her mind demands she remove her hand and leave before it’s too late. But Celia can’t help stroking his monster. Her gaze darts to his exposed muscular chest and rippled abs. Finally, she exhales a long sigh, and under her breath, says, “I’m fucked.”

DeShawn’s arm snakes around Celia, “Not yet.” A gentle nudge, and he says, “Stand up, honey.”

In blind obedience, she stands, her mind still attempting to convince her to leave as he lowers the zipper of her dress. Her dress is around her ankles when a snap of his fingers unlatch her bra. Then, with no way of stopping this, his fingers are inside the waistband of her panties, lowering them down her legs.

Celia stares straight ahead with her naked body quivering. DeShawn moves in front of her. A tug on the drawstring and his pants drop to his feet. She gasps as the biggest, blackest cock ever seen comes into view.

As much as Celia doesn’t want to do this, she can’t help herself. Her right-hand grabs the base of his shaft, the left grabs on top of the right, and still enough cock protrudes over her hands to make most men proud. Then, holding him like a baseball bat, she begins stroking.

DeShawn’s hand descends over her breast, down to her abdomen, and finally strokes her pussy. Her legs part to grant access, and when he inserts a knuckly finger, she realizes she’s fucked men not this long.

With his finger sliding in her, the pre-cum flowing over the head of his cock produces an irresistible fascination. An uncontrollable urge takes hold, and in moments her tongue is sloshing over his head. Unprepared, DeShawn scoops her up like a rag doll, laying her on the floor.

Between her widespread legs and positioned at her entrance, Celia gasps, “Please be gentle. This is a first.”

“Trust me, baby, you’re ten minutes from heaven.”

His size, the contrast of his jet-black cock, and her lily-white skin render Celia’s body into a vibrating mass as his head disappears inside. Ten minutes of inching his way inside leaves all but an inch buried, and Celia exhaling moaning whimpers as her hips buck.

Twenty minutes in, Celia’s kneeling and DeShawn’s pounding into her as she screams, “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m cumming.”

Ten minutes of an easy grind and Celia’s again screaming obscenities. She never experienced a man with the stamina and size of DeShawn. An hour in, and he’s getting close. Like a cloth doll, she lies limp beneath him as he picks up the pace and voracity. Her vision is blurred, her body numb, and her pussy is shooting sparks through her brain when he says, “Hang on, baby, I’m cumming.”

After several minutes of catching their breath, Celia squeals as DeShawn removes his limp cock from her overflowing pussy. “Are you all right?” he asks in a concerned tone.

She nods. “Just a little sore. I’m fine.”

DeShawn stands, extending his hand. “Come on, and I’ll fix that for you.”

In minutes Celia steps into an Epsom Salts bath. “Oh my God, the water’s cold.”

“Cold water and Epson Salts reduce swelling and rejuvenate the muscles. Trust me. You’ll be thanking me for this evening.”

As Celia quivers in the tub, fondling DeShawn’s cock as he sits on the rim. “Sorry about my reaction to meeting you.”

He chuckles, “No problem, I’m used to the reaction.”

Celia tolerates the cold water for ten minutes before standing. “Are you alright?” DeShawn asks.

“Yeah, but a pain-free pussy isn’t worth freezing to death for.”

In the living room, they linger over another martini until Celia retrieves the folder, handing DeShawn his copy. Her smile spreads as Celia holds out the new contract and says, “We only need your signature to complete this afternoon’s business.”

DeShawn signs the forms as Celia gathers her clothes. “I guess I should be going.”

DeShawn snatches up her panties, saying, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

Celia holds her hand out for her panties. “Dinner sounds inviting. But unfortunately, even though I’m married to an understanding man, no man is that understanding.” Her head tilts as he folds her panties.

DeShawn smiles, “You wouldn’t deny me a keepsake, would you?”

Celia arches her eyebrows, “As long as this remains our little secret.”

Before opening the door, DeShawn bends to kiss Celia tenderly. “I can’t remember enjoying an afternoon more, thank you.”

Celia smiles through her blush. “The pleasure’s all mine. You ensured this afternoon became an unforgettable experience.”

“I concur, so would you mind if I called next time I’m in town?”

Celia seriously studies his face before a smile spreads. “Why don’t you call me to check if I changed my mind.”

DeShawn’s head tilts. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Celia shakes her head. “No, I’m still thinking about having you a second time before I leave.”

Mark’s office door is open when Celia enters her office. From behind his desk, Mark asks, “Celia, is that you?”

She continues into his office, giving him a dreamy nod. Mark leans back in his chair. “How did everything go?”

Celia hands him the signed documents with a smile. He examines them, asking, “Good work. Mind telling me how you convinced him to sign?”

Celia brushes her nails on her blouse, “I just batted my eyes and had him eating out of my hand.”

Mark beckon’s her with an arch of his finger. When she reaches him, his hand floats up to her thigh. He inserts a finger and smiles. “Your smile may have captured his attention, but this closed the deal.”

“Are you upset?”

His finger continues probing as he says, “Not if you’re not.”

Celia grabs the back of his chair as she sways. “He’s more man than ever experienced.”

“Lean over the desk and tell me all about your encounter with DeShawn,” Mark says, undoing his pants.

The next fifteen minutes are spent with Mark driving into Celia’s sloshing pussy as she relates every tantalizing detail of her encounter with DeShawn.

When the end comes in sight for Mark, he pulls Celia from his desk, and she drops to her knees, gobbling him into her mouth. A moment later, as Celia’s finger swipes away a wayward drop of semen from the edges of her lips, she asks, “Will there be anything else, Mark. I need to prepare for my vacation.”

***

Bret’s reading the paper when Celia arrives home. She kisses his cheek, asking, “Hi, honey, how did your first day go?”

Bret nods. “We bought an airplane that should be in maintenance Thursday and ready for delivery in two weeks.”

“Fantastic, so you’ll be home for two weeks.”

“One week. I start training in Long Beach Monday, did you forget?”

“Are you referring to two weeks on the beach in Southern California?”

Bret nods, “Did Mark give you the time off?”

“Unexpectedly, he didn’t find a problem with my request.”

“Bitchen, I’ll make the reservations tomorrow.”

Celia’s body tenses as Bret’s hand slowly ascends her leg. “Honey, let me relax first. This was one hectic day.”

“Sure, you relax, and I’ll do all the work,” Bret says as his hand reaches her thigh.

Celia giggles, trying to squirm free. “Honey, I’m hungry. If you refuse to listen to reason, then at least call for Chinese takeout while I change into something more comfortable.”

Bret’s hand shoots upward to her entrance. His eyes lock with hers in an intense stare. Celia leaps from his grip, “Damn you, why do you always spoil everything.”

His eyes narrow, his voice stern, he asks, “Where are they?”

Celia huffs, “In the glove box. I knew you would be excited after your first day and wanted to surprise you with something special. But you ruined that.”

She swirls to leave, and Bret stops her. “Your panties in the glove box stop’s short of explaining your overflowing pussy.”

“Oh, that does it. What do you think I did?” Celia glares. “Never mind, I admit it. I spent my entire afternoon fucking a basketball player with a twelve-inch dick. His massive dick had me screaming out orgasms for hours. Are you happy now?”

Bret snorts. “No need to be a smart ass. I only asked a question.”

“Question my ass. You’re accusing me of whoring around. And after I spent the entire afternoon fantasizing about us tonight.” Celia’s arms cross over her chest. “Excuse me for being turned on by images of having sex with you.”

“I’m sorry...”

“You’re too late for sorry’s. I’m taking a bath to relax before going to bed. If you want dinner, get it yourself.”

***

Celia marches into the kitchen, finding Bret with his morning coffee. She kisses his cheek. “Sorry about blowing up last night. Yesterday was one of those days.”

Bret nods. “New positions have a way of doing that.”

“Forgive me,” she asks with another kiss.

He smiles, “You confused anger with surprise.”

Celia pours her a cup, asking, “What’s on your agenda today?”

“Interviews, we need a crew in place by Monday.”

Celia crooks her head. “You have applicants already?”

“I don’t. I gave Phil in HR a list of what I needed, and he worked his magic.”

Celia sat down her cup. “I need to run before I’m late. So why don’t we plan on dinner out tonight.”

Bret nods. “I’ll call this afternoon when I know when I’ll be through.”

***

Bret sticks his head in Phil’s office. “Good morning. Any applicants in yet?”

Phil chuckles, “Security says they started showing up at seven this morning.”

“Motivation’s a marvelous thing. I’m ready. Who’s first.”

Phil hands Bret the list of candidates, asking, “Would you like for me to sit in on this with you?”

“Unless you’re a pilot, you’d be bored silly. I can handle the interview.”

“OK, let me know as soon as you can so we can start the background checks.”

Bret enters the HR waiting area and says, “Steve Brill?”

A man in blue jeans and tennis shoes raises his hand. Bret tries his best not to make a face as he motions toward the door. Inside his office, Steve flops down with a groan. Bret asks, “Can I get you anything before we start.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a coffee, cream, and two sugars.”

Bret hands Steve his coffee before looking at his application. “Steve, is everything correct on your application?” Steve nods, taking a sip. Bret smiles, “I think we covered everything we need. Thanks for coming in today.”

“Fantastic. I expected to spend an hour answering stupid questions.”

“None of that BS around here. We’re pretty straightforward.”

After showing Steve to the door, Bret returns to Phil’s office. “This is a no and not worth a rejection letter.”

The following two applicants are qualified but refused to leave their present employer without a minimum of two weeks’ notice. Art Weldon is next. A qualified applicant and the first of the day to be placed on the short-list.

The final first-officer candidate is Pamela Wynne, a prim and proper attractive twenty-five-year-old. Bret ushers her into his office, where she stands in front of his desk at parade rest, maintaining eye contact. He takes a seat, studying her application. Bret’s eyes rise from her application to find Pam still standing, eyes focused on him. He says, “I’m sorry, please take a seat.”

Bret asks, “Can I get you anything?”

“No, sir, I’m fine.”

Bret nods, “Do you mind if I call you Pamala?”

She smiles, “Not at all. My mother calls me Pamala. Everybody else calls me Pam.”

“Pam, I see you graduated with a degree in Aeronautics from Emory Riddle University?”

“Yes, sir, two years ago, and I’m taking online classes working on my MBA.”

“Impressive. Where are you working now?”

“South Florida Aviation. They hired me as a charter pilot before graduating from Emory Riddle.”

“What types of aircraft are you flying with them?”

“I started in the 200 series King Air’s, and I’m now flying a King Air 350.”

“Do you have any time in jets?”

She shakes her head. “Just turbo-props.”

“Did anybody mention what you would fly in this job?”

“No, sir.”

“We’ll be operating a Gulfstream 650. Will that be a problem?”

Pam giggles, squirming in her seat. “Nothing I can’t overcome.”

“I need to clarify one thing. I sympathize with giving an employer two weeks. But, unfortunately, our timeline doesn’t allow for it in this case. The candidate we choose and I will be in Flight Safety Monday morning. Is that a problem?”

“Can I be honest with you?”

Bret nods. “I wish you would.”

“Intuition told me this would move quickly if hired. So I talked to my Chief Pilot before leaving home and told him I planned on accepting this job if offered.”

“Was he understanding?”

“He told me I was crazy if I didn’t accept.”

“So you wouldn’t mind moving to California?”

“California is home. I spent the last year and a half searching for a way to return.”

Bret spent the next forty-five minutes going over the technical aspects of flying and asking aviation-related questions. He came away even more impressed with Pam. When he runs out of questions, he asks, “Questions.”

“I’m sure I’ll come up with something as soon as I leave, but none at the moment.”

“The only thing I can add is this is the first airplane for this company. So such things as scheduling or additional aircraft are in the air. That said, this candidate will receive due consideration for a left seat if the need arises.”

“That’s a question I was afraid to ask,” she says with a chuckle.

“I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but I need one thing understood. Final acceptance will hinge on successfully passing the Flight Safety course.”

“Will this course include a type-rating?”

Bret nods. “If competent enough, I have no problem with paying for a type-rating.”

Pam says, “I want this job and will do whatever it takes to show my abilities and earn the position.”

“Do we have your local phone number?”

Pam digs through her purse, finding a business card. She scribbles a number on the back. “I’ll ensure this phone will be surgically attached until hearing from you.”

Fifteen minutes after showing Pam out, Bret’s in Phill’s office. He tosses Pam’s application on his desk. Saying, “This is our first officer. How long will you need to pull the trigger on the hire.”

“The background check’s complete. Outstanding credit report and no criminal history. She’s good to go. Would you like for me to make the notifications?”

“I’ll call both her and Art Weldon personally. They both deserve hearing from the man who decided.”

After the interviews for flight attendants and ground staff, Bret prepares to call Art. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he calls Bill Thomas instead. When he answers the call, Bret says, “Bill, we need to hire two first officers.”

“Any particular reason for asking? You’re the director of flight operations. Do what needs to be done. But being you called, why do we need two?”

“On long flights and international operations, you don’t want to chance a sick crew member, and you want your crew rested.”

“Bret, do what you need to, and thanks for keeping me in the loop.”

On hanging up with Bill, Bret informed Phil of hiring both Art and Pam. He calls both with the excellent news and afterward can’t think of a thing important enough not to be put off until tomorrow.

Celia’s purse is on the filing cabinet behind her desk, but she’s nowhere around. Bret kills time scrutinizing the artwork hanging on the walls and then scans the hallway in both directions. Finally, after flopping in a chair, he snatches a magazine from the coffee table. The pages are flipped through for no reason other than doing something.

Bret’s head tilts in concentration, questioning hearing something beyond the heavy oak door to Mark’s office. Before forming a conclusion, Xillia’s halfway between the entrance and Mark’s office, and Bret says, “Hello.”

Xillia’s head shoots around. She gasps as her hand flies to her chest. Then, bent at the waist and short of breath, she asks, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Bret shrugs, “Picking Celia up for dinner.”

Breathlessly Xillia asks, “Does Celia know you’re here?”

“Not yet, I can’t find her. Any idea where she might be?”

Xillia draws a deep breath. Then, after blowing out a whistling breath of relief, she says, “She must be around somewhere. If she’s not in her office, she’s probably taking a break. Do you know where the break room is?” Bret shakes his head. “Come on. Let’s check the break room.”

Xillia shrugs at finding the break room empty. “Don’t worry, she’s either in the lady’s room or running an errand for Mark. Grab a cup, and I’ll be right back.”

She darts into Celia’s office before stopping to glance down the hall to ensure Bret wasn’t following. Inside Mark’s office, Celia’s bent over his desk. Xillia says, “Celia, you have huge problems.”

“Give us a minute. I’ll fix whatever it is when we’re finished.”

“No problem, I’ll tell your husband you’ll be with him as soon as you’re through fucking Mark.”

Celia’s head snaps up with bulging eyes, “Where the fuck is he?”

“I found him waiting in your office.”

As she twists free of Mark, Celia darts to the door, scanning her office. She faces Xillia with a shrug. Xillia shakes her head. “I escorted him to the break room. But if you want to greet him with your skirt bunched up around your waist, I’ll get him.”

“Let me get organized. Keep him occupied for five minutes.”

Celia rushes up to where Xillia and Bret sit, laughing. She throws her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss and hug. “Honey, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I planned on taking you out to dinner,” he says, drawing in a second deep breath.

His grip tightens on her shoulders as he holds her at arm’s length. “Did Xillia find you in the lady’s room?”

Celia shakes her head, “I was doing something for Mark.”

A strange smile spreads, “Naturally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Are you ready for dinner?”

“I’ll grab my purse.”

Alone with Xillia, Bret snaps his fingers, and under his breath, says, “Valentino Uomo Intense.”

Xillia’s head tilts. “Excuse me?”

Bret continues staring off. “The aroma.”

“What aroma are you referring to?”

“The one Celia reeked of.”

“You’re probably mistaken, and if not, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

Bret inhales deeply through his nose and smiles. “Top notes of sage oil and fresh mandarin.” He swipes his hand in front of his face, drawing in the scent. “An intoxicating base of iris and tonka bean.” He smiles at Xillia and asks, “Take a deep breath and savor the aroma.”

Without removing her eyes from his, she sniffs. Then shrugs.

“You disappoint me. Are you saying you can’t detect the way it blooms into an intoxicatingly sweet, creamy leather and vanilla scent?”

“What’s undetectable is the reason for your obsession.”

“Elementary, my dear,” Bret says with a chuckle. “Mark wore the same cologne at the party.”

“Oh my God, are you insinuating...”

Bret holds a finger to his lips. “Innuendoes are so tedious. I’m making an observation.”

“Bret, what are you intending.”

He takes a deep breath. “You don’t cage a loved wild bird. Instead, you free it. Then, if it returns, love is meant to be.”

“OK, I’m ready,” Celia says, bursting into the room.

“Great, how about Giovanni’s tonight?”

“Giovanni’s is my favorite.” Hooking an arm with Bret, Celia glances at Xillia. “See you in the morning.”

“Celia, you’re a lucky lady.”

Celia giggles, “Don’t I know it.”

Xillia silently stares as the two of them disappear down the hallway. Then, alone, she takes a deep breath, “No, you don’t, you don’t have a clue.”

***

“Did you enjoy your dinner?”

Celia smiles, “Scrumptious. As usual.” She takes his hand, “honey, we need to do this more often.”

As Bret nods, the waiter asks, “Folks, what else can I bring you?”

“A café amora will be a perfect capper to a wonderful dinner,” Bret says.

“Perfect, two café amora’s coming up.”

Celia drifts into silent contemplation before asking, “Do you think you’ll be home more with this job?”

“Not at first. But when Bill tires of playing with his new toy, I should be home more.”

He studies her approaching from behind Celia. Long blond hair up in a bun. Deep diving V-neck exposing ample breast. And her sexy sway on those black stilettos made her a captivating attraction. But stopping at their table to stare turns her appeal to concern. “Bret, fancy meeting you here. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Pam,” Bret chuckles. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

She giggles, “You met the businesswoman in the interview. This is the Pam celebrating look,” Pam says with a swipe of her hand over the front of her torso.

“Pam, meet my wife, Celia. Celia, this is Pamela Wynne, my new first officer.”

Celia’s eyes swept Pam from head to toe with adequate attention to everything in-between. A nod and she says, “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here, a pleasure.”

In the nick of time, the waiter is placing their drinks in front of them. Pam says, “Those look delightful. What are they?”

Bret’s hand motions to an empty chair, “Café amora, please join us for one.” Then, he turns to the waiter, “one more, please.”

The waiter nods, but before he leaves, Pam says, “I can’t. I’m with someone.”

“No problem, invite him over.” Then, turning back to the waiter, “make that two more.”

“Are you sure we wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Nonsense, I insist.”

The instant Pam leaves them alone, Celia’s lips tighten as she glares. “I would love to be a fly on the wall during her interview.”

Bret holds her in a tight stare, “Put your fangs away. She’s one of the few women around here to earn their position on merit alone.”

Celia is still glaring when Pam approaches again. With her is a raven-haired woman, every bit as beautiful as her. Bret stands as they reach his table hand in hand with their fingers entwined. “Bret, Celia, may I introduce Rebeca, my... friend.”

A round of introductions, and Pam kisses Rebeca’s cheek, “Thanks, baby,” she says, pulling out her chair.

Celia’s glare softens into an amused smile as the waiter drops off Pam and Rebeca’s drinks. Celia pats Rebeca’s hand, “Welcome to the wait at home sect.”

Rebeca slowly traces her nails softly over Celia’s arm, giggles politely, “A pilot’s wife is a lonely existence. But, I do hope we will become friends.”

Celia smiles warmly, “As do I.”

Rebecca gazes longingly into Celia’s eyes. “Together, maybe we can wallow the lonely hours while Pam and Bret live out their dreams.”

“Being alone can be trying. But I want to assure you Bret’s a perfect gentleman.”

Rebeca scrunches her eyes before suddenly bursting out laughing. Then, covering her mouth with her hand, she says, “Trust me, my only concern would come from Pam being a member of an all-female crew.”

Pam traces a finger over Celia’s arm, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you.”

Celia gives her a friendly pat, “As do I, Pam.” Then, she perks up, “Girls, this is a celebration. Let’s convince Bret to take us out dancing.”

“Oh, we can’t intrude on you two,” Pam protests.

“Nonsense. We’re leaving as soon as I return from the little girl’s room.”

“Hold on, I’ll join you,” Rebecca says as she stands.

As their significant others walk away, Bret turns to Pam, saying, “I would like to reassure you of your sexual preference not affecting your job.”

Pam laughs. “Bret, my only sexual preference is maintaining a vibrant sex life.”

“Are you saying...” His voice trails off as his finger swings from Pam to Rebeca’s empty chair.

A mischievous smile spreads, “Are you referring to my sister, Rebecca?”

“I’m confused.”

“Don’t be. I’m not about to allow a jealous wife to stand between me and my dream job. We’ve used this activity for years to avoid unwanted advances.” Her tongue darts over her lips, “I’m so grateful for this opportunity to prove myself. So if there is anything I can do to return the favor, ask.”