Chapter 13 #3
A minute later she was back brandishing her MacBook Air. How romantic?
“Now I’ve got a monthly line with regular ten-day rotations, we should plan things out to make the most of my time at home…”
I couldn’t argue with that, and it certainly appealed to the engineer in me.
She pulled up her work email and got me to copy the next four weeks into a spreadsheet.
Chin resting on my shoulder, she guided me as the engineer did his thing, one day per row and one narrow column per hourly slot.
“Color code it baby, so we can plan!” Who said romance was dead?
“Blue for duty time, green for Thomas and me laying over, fucking and sightseeing,” she giggled.
“Then light gray for my six days off duty and dark gray for the fragments of my duty days… then mark every hour with a J or a T,”
“There… that’s perfect…now, let’s do some planning…”
First off, she got me to mark out every night – splitting them between working nights and how her non-duty nights would split between me and Thomas.
“When I’m home, you get Thursday to Monday baby… when you’re away travelling in the middle of the week, then that is Sasha and Thomas time!” she beamed
Having mapped the nights, she took me into engineer heaven, mapping out each hourly block either with a ‘J’ for Jason or a ‘T’ for Thomas according to who she’d be with every hour of every day.
Happy with my coloring and mechanics, a worried, perplexed look slowly appeared on her face.
“No, that can’t be right… I want to get back to how things looked before, when you were travelling… when you and me had all those wonderful, sexy weekends… and me and Thomas got to enjoy each other all through the week…
Seeing my confusion, her confused look turned into a wicked, impish grin.
“You never realized, did you, baby? For an engineer, you were a bit slow off the mark… one night while you were away, while he was recovering, I got Thomas to work it out… those two months you were travelling, he got me two-thirds of the time and sixteen of every twenty-eight nights, it was him not you sleeping with your wife…”
“Shocked, baby?” she grinned, enjoying my embarrassed look of stunned disbelief.
“You and your numbers, me and Thomas had a good chuckle… we couldn’t believe you hadn’t worked it out… asked us to tone in down…
“But then again, you were kinda stressed out from all that travel and all those meetings…”
She kissed me, teased my cheek and went back to squinting at the numbers, frowning at what she was seeing.
“The time’s still okay—Thomas still gets your naughty little wife for two-thirds of every month,” she teased, “but the night’s are all off… if your spreadsheet’s right, the night’s Thomas gets me are right down… right down, halved all the way down to only eight nights a month…
Slowly her face switched from a frown to the one I always saw when she wanted something.
“Honey, do you remember the first week you were able to cut back your travel? Remember, you came back on Thursday and were super excited when you found me and Thomas in bed together… just watching, playing with yourself and letting him and me fuck and spend the night together?
“You were so excited… you even joked about it… called it your ‘Goldilocks, who’s been sleeping in my bed’ high! Well…”
Before I knew what was happening, she was firing of staccato instructions.
“Honey… change the first, third and fourth Thursdays… let’s make them Goldilocks nights for my kinky husband…
“That’s better,” she smiled, snuggling her boobs extra tight against my arm, “at least that’s even… eleven nights for each of my two favorite boys…”
That’s better! Not for me it wasn’t! I’d just lost three nights a month with Sasha—my loss, Thomas’s gain.
But continuing to stare at the screen and use her body as a weapon against my arm, I could tell she was still thinking.
“Even with the Goldilocks nights, poor Thomas is still down from sixteen to only eleven nights,” she mused, causing me to state the obvious.
“Sasha! What the hell did you expect? You’re on duty six nights a month… if the pair of you want to get those long layovers together on Seoul, that’s the price you have to pay… six nights on duty means five nights less for him and one night less for me…”
“Well, that hardly seems fair!” She sounded genuinely incensed at the basic rules of arithmetic I’d pointed out to her. “He’s down five and you’re only down one… how can that be fair?”
“I’m working the second Sunday, but honey, if you move the first, third and fourth Sundays—make them Jason watches his naughty hotwife nights—then we end up with something fairer to both of you…”
“How the hell is that fairer to me,” I spluttered, “the six duty nights to give you your Seoul layovers means four nights less four me and only two nights less for Thomas… and he’s the one who gets the long layovers with my wife, not me!”
“Oh baby,” she whispered in my ear, nipples now hard as she rubbed them against me and squeezed my cock.
“Don’t pretend to be upset… we both know how much it excites you… it won’t be forever,” she grinned, pointing at the screen.
“Doesn’t make you extra hard, baby… my non-working nights, fourteen for Thomas, and only eight for my loving cucky husband… sacrificing so my big-cocked African boyfriend gave me for three-quarters of the month…
I just spluttered a few more incomprehensible protests… all to no effect as Sasha ruffled my hair and squeezed my cock again…
“Love you, babe… this is gonna be so much fun,” she grinned at me, looking me directly in the eye. “We finally got this thing right…”
That conversation was mid-July. For the next couple of months, that little color-coded time chart—with its different combinations of colors and initials—became the bible that guided my entire existence. Each combination giving me very different levels of stress, fear and excitement.
Royal blue meant Sasha’s duty time. This one-in-seven part of the month was when I could put my emotions in neutral.
Happy in the knowledge that Thomas was safely stowed forward and fully occupied with his piloting duties—while Sasha was way back running the main cabin.
Her time split between screaming kids, disoriented Korean grandmas and acting as conductor.
Waving her baton, controlling her six equally busy colleagues—like Sasha, well versed in the art of gliding gracefully on the surface, no matter how stressed and busy they might actually be.
Next along on my excitement-stress spectrum were the three emerald green layover periods each month—each of them lasting nearly two full days.
Periods when, just as Sasha had promised when she’d been selling me on the whole Incheon rotation idea, I received a whole cocktail of different types of communications.
Korea being thirteen hours ahead and their desire to keep their body clocks on US time meaning each two-day layover was punctuated by five different types of communication.
Each layover started with them grabbing a few hours of sleep, waking up just in time to hit the Seoul nightclubs.
With me trying to look calm and unruffled in my mid-morning meetings as my phone pinged three or four times with incoming images of the loving couple wrapped around each other on the dance floor in one or other of Seoul’s high-energy nightclubs.
Each image reminding me of that ‘Kool-Aid’ weekend when Sasha confessed to her fear of ageing and need for a few more days of feeling young. Those nightclub pictures of them dancing and making out were definitely the Korean version of ‘Kool-Aid’ …