Retired Headmistress and Headmaster
- 1 year ago
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Is This Getting My Head On Straight?Chapter 5 free porn video
Mondays, I have supper with Crystal and the girls. If one of them needs my time, I take her on a date. By 7, I am at the dance studio working on Faith. Thursdays, I head over to Twin Peaks and spend time there. It is one of the few times I do real work. I take my laptop and work on the merger. When Sylvie has a break, I put the work aside. I also flirt with her every time she walks by. Pending on her shift, we may head back to her place and watch tv for a bit.
She is really into a show called Alone. It is a survivalist show. People are dumped alone in the wilderness. Each contestant placed somewhere away from the others to eliminate the chances of them running into each other. They are limited as to what they are allowed to bring. I see it as a comedy. The survivalist on the show don’t have a clue and make basic mistakes. One of the most common reasons for them to quit or be sent home is because they lack the energy to do the work. They are in a forest for fuck sakes. Cut the bark off the right kind of tree, and you have tree gum. It is like drinking an energy drink. Just don’t do it to the wrong type of tree or the acid will eat out your stomach. All contestants make temporary shelters, and most of their shelters are wrecked at some point. Look this up. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCKkHqlx9dE
It is a video on how to easily make a permanent heated shelter. It takes two days if you take your time. Depending on where you are, you may need to use different materials. I told Sylvie how to do it then showed her the vid. After the vid, I told her how to make one with heated floors. The guy in the video makes the mistake of having the woodpile beside the fireplace. That is a recipe for a fire. Leave a couple dry pieces under the bed with the equipment you need to keep dry. The main woodpile stays outside beside the door. She is interested in survival stuff like that, so we often talk about the mistakes the contestants make.
The second time she forces me to watch it, I decide, when I have the time, I am going to take her to Jasper national park and show her somethings. Banff is much closer, but more people visit Banff, and I want us to be alone in the wilderness.
I leave her at 6:45 every Thursday. It is just enough time to head over to the dance studio and not be late for class.
The first couple times, it is Vicky I take home. She agrees to a friends with benefits arrangement. She does gossip with Faith about it. I let Faith know I am interested in her. She never does admit to having a family, and the longer I know her, the more I think she doesn’t deserve her family. It is only the second week I am in dance class, and she agrees to go to coffee with me. I don’t make any overtures with her. The first day of our level 3 class, we make no pretences of coffee. As soon as class is over for the day, she comes straight home with me, where we shower together, then fuck. She doesn’t stay. I know why but still she hasn’t told me.
She has another shower before she goes home to hide her indiscretions. She tells me it is because she is spending the night at her sister’s, but she doesn’t have a sister in town.
Saturdays, I spend with Sylvie. Most weekends, I take her on an exotic date. None of them involve the Arrow because countries get nervous when you fly a top of the line fighter in their airspace. There are some countries like Canada where I can get away with it, but most will not allow it, and ones that do are still nervous about it. Most are like the US, we are only allowed to fly one for testing purposes, and we have to give them months notice.
One day, while visiting Sylvie at work, she mentions how she always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. That Friday, when she phones me on her break, I asked her if she had a passport. She does. Most Canadians have one since the US decided to be assholes, playing the bully, and stop having a free and open border. In a time when borders are opening, they start acting like we are at war. I told Sylvie to be up early, and we would eat on the run Saturday for our date.
I picked her up at 7 am. She never has to be at work before 9:30, so she is complaining about being up at this ungodly hour. She figures something is up when we exit her apartment, and my security is waiting for us. As is my habit, I refuse to answer her questions, sighting that it is a surprise.
She gets excited when she realizes we are heading to the airport but is confused because our convoy drives right onto the tar mat. Her eyes bug out as she gets out of the car.
“You own a Concorde?”
“Don’t be silly. The Concordes are all retired, and I wouldn’t have you in a plane that old. This is the Russian equivalent. It is a little smaller, but I think a little better. The original run had a bit of a stability issue, but we fixed that, and this is the first of the new Tu-144A. We customized it as my private jet.”
“Don’t you think that is spending way too much for a personal jet?”
“Sylvie, I thought we agreed not to make a deal out of my money. Yes, it was a big chunk of change, but it put less of a dent in my pocket then what buying Suzy did to yours.”
Suzy is her beat-up 1984 VW Beetle.
“Who else is coming with us?”
“Security insists at least four of them come along. I did spend some time in a French prison, and there are a few people that think I should still be there, so I didn’t argue.”
We climb the stairs into the jet. Sylvie isn’t surprised to see the theatre. It is the opulence of it that has her jaw on the floor. The seats look a lot less like airplane seats and more like Lazy Boy recliners.
“We should get comfortable.”
This is where we sit for takeoffs and landings. The seats face forward and have seat belts.
“You can leave your day bag on the seat behind you. Speaking of which, why is your bag getting bigger? Don’t you think you could have left the kitchen sink at home?”
She laughs, “Blame yourself. I never know what we are going to do, and you always end up buying me new clothes because I am not dressed properly.”
“That is half the fun. Do you have any idea how much a guy has to pay to see a woman as beautiful as you do a fashion show? This way, I get one for the price of an outfit.”
She does her usual laughing while punching me in the arm. It is a good thing I do not bruise easily.
The pilot knows the busy schedule I have planned, and he knows I expect him to put the peddle to the meddle. When we takeoff, we are thrown back into our seats. I can see that Sylvie has butterflies. The only time she was ever pushed back in her seat like this was in the Arrow. We couldn’t take it this time because we are not staying in Canada.
As soon as the seatbelt light turns off, I get up and offer Sylvie my hand. She takes it and comments, “Let me guess. Even on the plane, you have some big surprise.”
“Not really. I promised you breakfast, so we are going to eat.”
You can tell she doesn’t know what to think.
The walkway is wide enough that we can walk side by side. We do so, holding hands. We walk through the first curtained doorway onto a dance floor that I hesitate to call a ballroom. It is a bit small for that, but it is big enough that a few couples can enjoy a dance. She gives me a quizzical look.
“Maybe later. I’m starved.”
She just shakes her head. The next curtain brings us to a small dining room complete with kitchen. This is where the stewardess is finishing making breakfast. I tease Sylvie a bit.
“I don’t know why anybody would eat french toast without the spices and then put an egg on top, but that is how you like it, so I forced the cook to perform such sacrilege. I don’t know if I could ruin french toast like that.”
Once again, she punches me in the arm. We take our seats, and the stewardess serves us our breakfast. Sylvie is given her morning coffee, and I am have freshly squeezed orange juice. Breakfast was good as it always is. My stewardess is a good cook. We are stuffed, sitting at the table, relaxing after breakfast.
“I know you were tired before breakfast. Then we stuffed ourselves. Would you like to take a nap?”
She looks at me like I have three heads or something.
“Yes. Are you telling me there is a bed in this thing.”
“What? It’s my flying bachelor pad.”
We walk behind the last curtain and into my bedroom.
“Your choice, we can stay clothed on top, go down to our undies or I have pajamas you can borrow.”
“We can do underwear if you promise no funny business. I need my beauty sleep.”
I turn down the bed for when she is ready.
“Girl, if you were any more beautiful, every man you come into contact with would die of a heart attack. Still, I promise to let you have your sleep as long as you agree to cuddle.”
Sylvie is already taking off her clothes.
“Deal.”
She slides in, and I tuck her in before going to my side. My pants and shirt are off in a flash, and we are spooning to sleep.
I wake up to the stewardess, shaking me and telling me it is time to put our seat belts on because we are landing. Believe it or not, the bed has five-point harnesses. The seat belts are also covered in sheepskin, so they don’t chafe when you are nude. I roll Sylvie into position and start putting hers on when she wakes up.
“I thought I told you no funny business.”
I continue to do up her harness, telling her, “We are landing. I was just doing up your seatbelt. We can get dressed when the seatbelt sign goes out.” I point above her head to the seatbelt sign. I then lay down and put on my harness. It is too awkward to reach over and grab a tit. Instead, I put my hands between her legs.
“Oh, nice and warm. Too bad, we don’t have time to play. We have a lot planned for today. The good news is, we can sleep all the way home.”
After we land, we get dressed and walk off the plane. No vehicles are waiting at the foot of the stairs, so she asks, “Where is the limo.”
“Every once in a while, I like to drive.”
I walk her around to the back of the aircraft, where the loading doors are open. She scoffs, “You have to be kidding me.” The security is backing 3 Porsche 911s out of the aircraft.
“Really!!!”
“The limo and SUVs wouldn’t fit. These are nice, small, light cars that fit.”
“I thought I knew what opulence was. I had no clue.”
I hold the car door open for her, and she gets in. I quickly get into my seat.
“Wow, I thought it would be a lot more cramped in here. There is a lot of room, and it sure is comfortable.”
“Just be thankful you don’t have to sit in the back. There isn’t enough room for a small child, but for some reason, there are seat belts.”
She looks back, sees what I mean and laughs.
“Every vehicle I have seen you in so far has been practical. This sure isn’t.”
“Now and then, a guy has to have fun. Besides, the Arrow isn’t practical, and that is a vehicle.”
“If this is how you have fun, then what are all the slaves for?”
It is my turn to hit her in the arm. Normally, I would never hit a girl out of the blue like that, but she is a TKD fighter, and it is the same flirty hit she does to me. She can take it. “So, where are we, and what are we doing here.”
“The plane has to refuel before we can leave again, so we are wasting time. We are heading into Toronto. Since you keep telling me buildings you want to see instead of places, I figured you are an architecture buff, so we are going to see the CN tower.”
Upon hearing that, she lights up like a Christmas tree.
“That has always been on my list of top 10 places I wanted to visit.”
“Great, now, I have to get Booz Allen to sneak into your apartment one day while you and your girlfriends are at work so I can get that list.”
She hits me in the shoulder. Somebody needs to tell Sylvie that hitting on somebody doesn’t mean you hit them.
“Or, you could just ask.”
“Where is the fun in that?”
“Anyway, after the CN tower, I figured we could do something I am a fan of. I have never been to the Royal Ontario Museum before.”
Sylvie comments about how she would enjoy that too. We park the cars out of town and take the subway. Parking downtown is a nightmare, and the subway is faster. She has a wonderful time at the tower. I know security isn’t her thing, but it is mine and architecture is hers. I combine the two interests and tell her about the unique security features of the CN Tower. It doesn’t have a typical security system. There is no need for metal detectors or security checkpoints because it has electronic sniffers as powerful as a dog’s nose and other high-tech gadgets. There is no way to walk through the main doors with a weapon or illegal drugs of any kind.
I am a horrible person to go to a museum with. In the days before Wiki, people used encyclopedias. The problem with encyclopedias is they would hire a guy to write an article but then not fact check it. People would take these articles as fact, when in truth, on average, only 70% of the information in the encyclopedias was correct. Museums are similar. It is common in any museum to have errors, and as a history buff, I pick up on them and can’t help but comment. The worst I have ever seen was the Royal BC Museum. Their native exhibit made it sound like the only natives in the entire province were the coastal natives. If BC were its own country, it would be the 31st largest country in the world. That is a lot of land where they claim nobody lived. Truth is, the entire province was populated. The museum changed the signs. Today, they acknowledge that there were other natives. They still only have displays for the coastal nations and claim to represent the majority of natives when they do not even come close.
Sylvie tolerates my belligerence and likes my passion. Thankfully, I don’t know as much about eastern Canada as I do the west. The east always neglects the west, so there is plenty for me to bitch about. You should see me in one of the Canadian military museums. With the way they rewrite history and neglect BC’s contribution, I tear the place to shreds.
On the way back, I have to comment, “I know that half the time I was in the museum, it looked like I was frustrated and angry, but in reality, I had a good time. Ya, I get upset when people show their incompetence in their job or prejudice toward other people, but I still enjoy seeing how people’s minds work and what exactly it is they are trying to suppress. You can see now why the federal government doesn’t care about Alberta’s problems. People here refuse even to acknowledge its existence. Unfortunately, that means, to fix the problems in the west, we need to do something so drastic it affects the people in the east enough that they have no choice but to notice us. I admit I am disheartened that I can drastically reshape the face of the world when it comes to eliminating slavery, but I could never put a dent into the problems of our own country because the people in the east are taught to be so selfish they can’t even recognize our existence, and then, the south is the same way to the north. Aside from the tiny maritime provinces, the only province that doesn’t rape their north is Alberta, and that is because they have a centralized government.”
We talk a bit more about Alberta’s problems. She doesn’t realize how impossible it is to get them resolved until I pointed out the discrepancies at the museum. When we were there, she didn’t understand the significance of the way they rewrote history until we talked about it in the car. It doesn’t just show the prejudice of the museum. It teaches that same prejudice to a nation.
By the time we arrive at the plane, I have made a promise not to subject Sylvie to that much negativity again. We can still go to museums, just not one in eastern Canada or a Canadian military museum. I might take her to Fort Rod Hill, but that is it. Fort Rod Hill is one of the few places where I had good experiences as a child. It saddens me that it doesn’t receive enough funding and is slowly closing, one exhibit at a time. It has errors too, but I have funny and or entertaining stories behind the missing or altered information.
By the time I am driving into the cargo hold, the mood is lightened. Sylvie and I head up to the dance floor and have some fun while we wait for the cars to be tied down. The flight crew has had plenty of time to refuel and do their pre-flight checks. When it is time to go, the stewardess patiently waits for the song to end then asks us to get in our seats. I take Sylvie in arm, and we head back to the theatre to take our seats. She holds my hand as we takeoff, and it warms my heart.
“Where to now?”
“That is a surprise. All I will tell you is that it took roughly 90 minutes from takeoff to landing this morning. This leg will take roughly 3 hours.”
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