Sheriff Porter 90 (edited)

MY LITTLE CHICKADEE

It was thirty minutes before Ralph pulled into the parking lot.  By that time Wilson had his hand in my panties and my hand on his only average sized cock.  I even had it out and was playing with it.  I was probably five minutes away from taking it in my mouth.  Thank god Ralph showed up before Wilson and I did irreparable damage to our partnership.

Once he pulled into the parking lot, I managed to push back against Wilson.  “Get to filming.  I think you and I have enough foggy windows to look legit,” I said.

“Yeah,” was all Wilson could say.  He began to shoot the images out the back window of the car.  I sat in the front and calmed down.  Wilson was nothing great, but once the genie was out of the bottle it was difficult to coax her back inside.  After I had gone so far it was difficult not to complete the encounter.  By the time Randy Ralph and Brian had the boat loaded and had pulled out of the parking lot, I was ready to get the hell out of there.

Wilson and I didn’t speak during the drive back to our office to download the film.  Wilson and I still avoided any conversation about what happened in the car.  “So how does the file look?” I asked holding coffee for two in my hands.

“It’s enough to put the two of them in jail for sure.  So how are you going to use it?” Wilson asked.

“To be honest I don’t know.  It isn’t the charge I want to bring.  Let’s just hold onto it for now and keep monitoring the bastards,” I replied.

“You know we own him,” Wilson said.  “Anytime we want him in jail, we can do it.  Do it and not have it traced back to us.”

“Yes, but I don’t really care about that shit now,” I said.  “I am going to start back visiting those lounges on Jefferson Island.  You keep monitoring those feeds.”

I was really quite exhausted when I went to bed.  I made sure to lock the door just in case Wilson got any ideas.  Even so I relived those minutes in the car before Ralph showed up.  How could I possibly have allowed that to happen? I asked myself.  The answer was my body betrayed me again.  At which point I gave in and masturbated to the memory of Wilson’s not very impressive cock in my hand.

Immediately thereafter I passed out.  I’m not sure I can call it sleep, it was more like fainting since I did it as part of the orgasm.  Either way I woke at six and had to force myself to nap until 8 AM.

I woke and put on the workers jumpsuit/coveralls then rode the trike to the airstrip.  I was exhausted at 9:30 when I managed to pull into the hanger.  I took a five minute break then rolled the riding mower out to position the plane for take off.  After a quick systems check, I was in the air.

All my concerns about Randy Ralph, Brian and even Wilson were gone.  I could just be free.  My mind was occupied with the hundreds of decisions needed to keep the plane flying.  I had no autopilot.  It was just me and the bird.  I looked out at the bright yellow wings and down at the bright yellow Easter egg looking cabin and thought, this bird needs more color.

It was just a passing thought, since I needed to stay focused on the work ahead.  I flew for an hour though I had enough gas on board for twice that long.  Especially since I tended to cruise only a few miles an hour above stall speed.  I had originally taken up flying so that I could take my own plane to jobs far from home, but it didn’t look as though I would be doing that with my little Chickadee.

Since my little Chickadee was molded plastic, not fiberglass, it was effected less by heat.  It could therefore stand the color wash I intended to apply to it someday.  I planned to add a little gray over spray on the top to kind of make it look like the little chickadee bird.  I didn’t know anyone who could do it but I would bet a painter who specialized in Chevy Corvettes could do a decent job.  Of course I was in no hurry to get to it.

When the timer went off I turned back toward New Wales.  I had been wandering toward the south and the resort town of Dogwood Beach.  It was pretty much at the edge of my round trip flight on the five gallons of gas that I was legal to carry.  I carried double that and hoped no one ever checked me out.

I got the plane on the ground with a couple of pints of the legal five gallons to spare.  The reserve five gallon tank hadn’t been touched.  I was gaining more confidence with every flight.  Even though there had only been three, I felt good about the little plane.  Since the plane could glide long distances, it cruised on minimum throttle very well indeed.

I pulled it to the hanger then called Wilson.  “You awake?” I asked.

“I am now, what you want boss, you promised work didn’t start till noon from now on,” he said.

“Yes Wilson but you are supposed to be up dressed, fed and sitting at your desk at noon.  I just called to say I’m at the airstrip and they are finishing up on the hanger.  I’m going to stay to talk to the builder.  I’m also going to send her by for a check.  Write her one on the trust account you manage,” I said.

“Fine, for how much to do I write it?” he asked.

“Twenty-five hundred dollars,” I said.  “Put paid in full on it.  Get a copy of the door’s warranty those things can be a pain in the butt.  I’m going to cut the grass here before I come home.”

After the call I put the plane into the hanger and had lots of room.  I had space on the sides and some on the front and back.  I closed the roll up door on the hanger, then turned back to the mower.  I began to cut the grass in the field.  The mower was slow but it gave me time to think.

I was a little more than half way through when Wilson called.  “Your builder of garages has just gone,” he informed me.

“That’s fair enough, what the fuck is wrong with you and Margo?  If I remember correctly the last thing I heard from you was that she was a fine woman.  I think you were also going to take her to dinner?”  It was a question and he recognized it.

“Yes we went to dinner once.  She was a little too serious for my taste these days.  You know, I already have a family.  She got rather upset when I said I didn’t really want to meet hers,” Wilson explained.

“Yeah us women are like that.  We think the whole world thinks like we do,” I said.  “Well it didn’t stop her from taking our money.  She probably over charged me though.”

“She might have, but I don’t think she is a spiteful woman,” he admitted.

“Well as soon as I finish the rest of the grass I’ll head home on the trike.  How about checking on line for a bicycle helper motor that I can use or not use just to help me get home from the airstrip.  When I arrived over an hour later the videos of bike motors were waiting.  There were way too many of them, so I just eliminated the obvious ones.  All those requiring massive amounts of work went onto the trash heap.

I also decided that DIY was not for me at all.  I didn’t want a full gas trike like the one at home.  If I did, I would have just gone back for it.  What I wanted was a kit.  One I could load onto the back of the trike for the ride to the field.  Then when I got ready to come home, I could hook it on easily and ride back.

My tricycle had a one way drive system.  In other words it could back up without the pedals turning.  Which made it a free wheel system.  The hand activated caliper brake was all the brake system it had.  So I knew a friction drive motor would work on the trike.  I just needed someone to build it for me.

Once again it was EZ who came to the rescue.  He knew a hot rod builder who was always looking for small projects to finance his hobby.  I drove the truck by his shop just before 5 PM.  The sign over the small repair shop read, ‘Aberdeen Proving Grounds’, Tony Aberdeen proprietor.

“Hey you Tony?” I asked the man watching TV.”  He must have been close to seventy.

“That’s me, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“Dude name EZ told me you were a mechanical genus,” I said.

“Hell EZ ain’t got no idea what a mechanical genius is.  Man don’t even know which way a bolt tightens,” he said with a laugh.  “So what is it you need?”

I carried the old man outside to show him my trike.  “So I want to mount a friction drive motor over one of the rear wheels.”

“Nice wheels,” he said.  “What kind of motor you want?”

“Well you know how flat it is here.  I want to go about ten miles an hour.  I just want a simple on off switch none of this fancy electronics crap,” I said.

“You got anything against electric?” he asked.

“Not if it will do what I want,” I said.

“Starter motor off a small low compression four cylinder car.  I got an old T1000 out back.  That should be small enough.  Wire it up to a car battery to test.  You can get lighter weight batteries these days.  We just want to know if it works.” he said.

“Sounds good to me.  I do want to be able to disconnect the drive.  I want to pedal it out before I turn around and motor back,” I said.

“I can make it work just like you want.  Cost you a hundred bucks plus parts,” he said.

“Done, when can I get it,” I asked.  “Leave me your number I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

During the three day wait that ensued Wilson monitored the bugs and markers.  He used the time between his arrival in the office and Ralph’s arrival home, to screen the recording and marker records.  Nothing of any note happened.  Wilson and I were very careful that nothing was mentioned about our time together in the parking lot.  We had acted like a couple of kids and both of us seemed to want to forget it.

I tried but when I was alone in my bed it crept into my mind, since he was nearby.  I expected that it did with Wilson as well.  I wondered how hearing me next door effected him at the moment.  I had to laugh when I thought about it.

I was getting more and more comfortable with the Chickadee.  It flew beautifully.  I kept track of the hours she was in the air.  After I had twenty-five hours in the air I felt comfortable turning off the engine and feathering the prop.  I had never flown a true glider but I couldn’t imagine it being any better than the Chickadee.  I felt like I could fly forever on the wind currents.  I eventually turned for home and started the engine.  It caught on the first try.  I turned the prop to grab the air and home I went.

That happened the same morning that Tony Aberdeen called me.  “Bring two hundred dollars and come visit me,” he said.

“It will be later this afternoon.  Probably between 2 PM and 4 PM,” I suggested.

“That’s fine,” he said and hung up abruptly.

Edited by Walt

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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2 Responses to Sheriff Porter 90 (edited)

  1. jack says:

    Flying will allow you to completly clear your mind. It was the most relaxing and rewarding thing i ever did. Thanks. Brians ass is hung out just waiting for her to take a buzz saw to it.

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