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From: tonytony3@juno.com (anthony anthony)
Subject: tonytony3's Maria's Revenge 1/2 *(cheating, revenge)
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tonytony3's Maria's Revenge 1/2 *(cheating, revenge)
“Go to Boston Center now, on 118.05”
“Center on 118.05 for triple X-Ray.”
I dialed the new frequency into COM 2, switched over to
that radio, pressed the mike switch on the yoke, and
reported in.
It was the expected response. “Roger, X Ray cubed, radar
contact.” Yeah, they saw me.
What an unusual day. Just four hours ago I
thought I’d be spending another night in
Cleveland. Then, we had a breakthrough.
If I’d be willing to accept an equity interest in
the company, as well as a bit less money, they’d
license my patent. “That way”, John
explained, “we’d be sure you’d be around when
we wanted you. You’d have a vested interest.”
Damn right. It would make me truly independent,
independent of my wife’s family for that
matter, and we’d live ‘happily ever after’.
Hey, I’m within a hundred miles of home! Fly the damn
airplane, stop daydreaming, plan ahead.
“Boston Center, Mooney six niner triple X Ray would like
lower, please.”
“Triple X, descend now to 7000 feet.”
“Triple X out of 11 for 7.”
Close the cowl flaps, pull an inch or so off the manifold
pressure, trim a bit nose down. . . there it is, a 500 feet a
minute descent. That’ll burn 8 minutes, and get me 24
miles closer.
So, we signed the letter of intent. Our lawyers would
see to the details. I made a quick call home, and told
Maria I’d be home about 11 tonight. What a life!
I called flight service: an Instrument Flight Rules
plan would be needed: Rain and clouds and shit all
the way. I filed a flight plan, ETD in an hour.
John’s wife offered to drive me to the hotel, and then
to the airport. You bet I accepted: a big mistake. She
came up to the room with me, watched as I started to
pack, went into the bathroom as I continued, and she
came out, wearing only a towel, just as I finished
filling my garment bag.
“You’re in the big leagues, now, Al. Time for some
big league perqs”, she said.
Until then I was a faithful husband.
But when she came closer to me, and my arms
automatically went around her, and felt the towel on
her back. The towel opened, and I touched her
skin. Then only our bodies close together held the
towel up, and I saw, in the mirror, her nude
back, her naked ass, and those wonderful legs, and
she said “Don’t you like me?”, and stepped away,
and then the towel was gone, and her breasts were
as lovely as her legs, and her waist
was so slender, and her hips, and her figure, and. . .
and I couldn’t resist.
She drove me wild, and then drove me to the Burke
Lakefront airport, and drove out to the airplane to
help keep me dry, and then, after preflight she
climbed into the cockpit with me to “Tuck me in”,
and I was never sucked off like that before.
I’ll have to change my night time pre-start
check list. Let’s see, right after “verify gear switch
is set to down” I’ll add “Extinguish all interior
lights, position pilot seat fully aft, undo pants,
have passenger test alternate joy stick for freedom
of movement and lick-off”,
and. . .
I could still smell her, still feel her mouth, feel the sensation
of that first penetration. And, I missed my scheduled ETD
by only a half hour! A life changing half hour. I don’t want
to be an unfaithful husband, as great as that sex was. I
won’t let it happen again.
Back to the real world. I had to call home. I pushed one side
of the headset off, pulled out the cellular phone, and called.
There’s never a problem with cell phone connections when
you’re a mile and a half up in the sky.
“Maria, I’m 20 minutes out. Will you pick me up?”
“Sure, Al: be careful, viz is awful, it’s windy, and dark, and
raining. I’ll see you soon.” Maria’s a pilot, too. More than
that, she went through the bother to become a CFII: she was
licensed to teach, including flying on instruments.
ATIS, the automatic briefing broadcast, confirmed what
Maria reported. 300 feet ceiling, a mile visibility, winds 140
degrees at 23 gusts to 35. It would mean flying the approach
to near minimums: as low as I care to go. Then, I’d have to
fly the airplane onto the ground in those cross winds.
There’d be nothing subtle about this landing.
“Triple X, continue decent to 3000.”
“X’s is out of 8 for 3.”
As expected, a few minutes later, the next hand-off: ”Triple
X, Boston Approach now, 122.25.”
“Twenty two, twenty five for X cubed. See Ya.”
I twisted in the new freq on COM 1, switched radios, and
made the call.
“Approach, Mooney six niner triple X Ray out of 5 for 3,
with Hanscom information Bravo”, confirming I listened to
the ATIS broadcast.
“Triple X, radar contact. Continue decent to 2,500, expect
an ILS to one one. Current ATIS information is Charlie.”
The weather was changing quickly, I guessed, for the worse.
It sucks, but the instrument landing system to runway 11
had the lowest landing minimums at the airport. I should
get home.
All was going well. This WAS the big leagues.
“Triple X, you are 4 miles from the outer marker. Cleared for
an ILS to Hanscom runway 11. Contact tower on 119 point
5 at the outer marker.”
“Roger, cleared for the ILS, tower on nineteen five at the
outer marker.”
The localizer reported I was lined up, and here comes the
glide slope. . . centered, and there was the “beep beep
beep” of the outer marker, the ADF needle swung around
and pointed to the tail, and gear down and flaps at thirty
percent - no full flap landing in these winds - and mixture
and prop forward, fuel pump on, get the decent rate on the
glide slope nailed, and switch the radio to tower and
“Triple X is at the marker inbound.”
“Mooney Triple X Ray, Hanscom tower, cleared to land.”
I checked and rechecked: the airplane was all set up for a
missed approach in case I don’t break out of the clouds in
time to land. “Always treat finding the airport a happy
accident” my wife/instructor says - that way not finding it
when you are as low as you can go won’t be a surprise.
Hey, that wasn’t so bad. 400 feet above the ground and a
mile from the runway threshold I saw the VASI, the strobe
lead in lights, got my landing lights on (you keep them off
when you’re in the clouds, the glare can really screw up
night vision), and on to the runway without bending or
breaking anything, and taxied to the tie down. God didn’t
punish me for fucking around! At least, not yet.
I saw the headlights, and my wife drove the minivan to the
airplane. She was tying down the tail before I was out, and
in a moment the airplane was secure. I got a welcoming
kiss, and then, when the lights were on in the van, it
started.
“Al, there’s lipstick on your mouth. And on your collar!”
There’s no washroom on a little airplane: no way to alter
evidence, and there was no time to think of an excuse.
It was a silent ride home. Then we were in the door, and she
looked at me, and - they always know, don’t they?
“YOU WERE FUCKING AROUND!”
I can’t lie to her. I tried to explain. I rationalized. It was no
big deal, a one time event, it would never happen again, and
I was sorry, so sorry, and. . .
She wasn’t buying it.
Maria is Sicilian. She has old country values. So do I, for
that matter.
“Not a big thing. Big man, telling his wife it’s not big thing
for him to screw around.”
>From a high to as low as possible in a couple of hours.
I love my wife. She’s the most important thing in my life to
me. I told her all of that, but somehow those explanations
weren’t carrying any weight.
I slept in the guest room for the next two nights.
Maria was still angry. “I can’t even tell my family!”
Her family! I forgot about that! I could be a dead man.
I flashed back to our wedding, and her dad taking me aside
as he gave me keys to our house: “A little wedding present”.
And I remembered what he told me. “I like you, Al, but if
you ever hurt my Maria you will regret being born!”
And I remember her three big brothers talking to me later.
“I’ll bet pop told you Maria is the apple of his eye, and he
probably threatened you if you didn’t keep her happy” her
oldest brother, Monsignor Mario, guessed.
“That’s right, Mario. That’s what he said.” Well, yes, I do
call him Mario. He did say family didn’t have to use his
honorifics.
“You don’t have to worry about him,” Vincent, the lawyer
brother said. “If you do anything bad to her, by the time
we’re done with you, there won’t be enough left for pop to
hurt!”
Mario added “I was happy to celebrate your Wedding Mass,
I’d hate to have to do your funeral one.”
And Jack, the brother with the construction company, - Big
Jack, he’s called - didn’t say anything. He just shook my
hand, nodding congratulations on marrying his little sister,
and it only took a week for the pain in my hand to go away.
That was the family I prayed she wasn’t going to tell!
Finally, four days after Cleveland, I was summoned by her.
“Sit.”
I sat.
“Tell me every detail.”
I did.
“OK. I decided I want this marriage to continue.” She
stated.
Thank God.
“Me too”, I agreed.
“But, I’m Sicilian. Every fiber in me demands revenge.”
“Maria, it wasn’t a big important thing, it won’t happen
again. . .”
That argument wasn’t going to work.
“Not a big thing! If I screwed around you’d go crazy!!”
“No, no.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
“We’ll see about that!”
She stormed out. There are times when I think I’m pretty
smart, and then there are times when I prove I’m not.
Like just then.
The next evening Maria threw the contract, the one that
came from Cleveland, that brother Vincent just reviewed,
on the table. “Vincent says you’ve got a good deal here.
This is fine for us. Sign it.”
Well, that part of the trip paid off. I signed.
“I’ve decided on how I will have my revenge.”
“Anything, Maria.”
“You’ve always been a jealous man, Al. I am a jealous
woman. We’ll see about your ‘anything’ Be here when I get
back from the gym.”
She left, wearing that damned spandex workout suit that
made her look so good. I had not been near that body since
Cleveland.
Ninety minutes later a slammed front door announced a
sweaty Maria returned.
She marched into my den.
“Do you remember about Frank?”
“Frank?”
“Frank’s that detective who’s always propositioning me at
the gym.”
“Oh, that Frank. Yeah, I do remember.”
“You’re the bastard who said fucking around is no big deal.
Frank’s on his way here. Let’s see just how big a deal it is!”
“What?!”
“You just let him in when he gets here. I’m taking a
shower!”
“But.. .”
“No buts. It’s my revenge!”
“But. . .”
But nothing. She was gone up to the bath room.
I was left standing there, mouth open. Stunned.
I was still standing there when, in a few minutes the bell
rang.
I opened the door, and Frank: great big black Frank,
wearing his Members Only jacket, boat shoes, chinos, and
a golf shirt, pushed his way in.
“You gotta be Al. Christ, you fucked up big time.”
“What the hell?”
He interrupted. “I’ve been wanting to screw your wife from
the first time I laid eyes on her. I told her a long time ago it
could be any time, any where, any way, the kinkier the
better. Tonight she told me you screwed around, and if I
still wanted to, tonight was my night, this here was the
place, and showing you what it’s like to have your wife
screw around is the way. I like parties like this. Where is
she?”
“She’s in the shower, but. . .”
This big man just said “Shut up. Get me a beer.”
I heard a voice from upstairs: “Do what you’re told!”
And then Maria appeared, wearing a long robe.
She took Frank by the hand - no beer, a success!- and
pulled him angrily up stairs.
At the top of the stairs she turned, and saw me standing
there, mouth open.
“Get up here” she demanded. “You’re the one who said this
was no big deal.”
The grin on Frank’s face was lecherous as he beckoned me
with his finger. His middle finger.
He was led and led me to the guest room. The bed was
turned down, the lighting was low.
Maria drained a drink she had in the room. Poured another.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said.
========================================
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