Double Duty Pt. 02

There I go again, ruining the moment with things better left unthought. She's here, she's alive, and she's one helluva fuck. Isn't that enough for right now?

The internal argument began, as the practical me fought with the part that really wanted more from this relationship. The part that cared more about Bailey and her safety than I would admit.

This whole point is moot. You knew what she did before things started. Hell, remember watching the car hit her? Wasn't that scary? This is what she is, and that's part of the appeal. No strings, lots of fun, great sex, and she's gone for a while. The perfect girlfriend.

Yes I know that. I don't expect her to stop being her. She's a wonderful woman, and that's why I'm falling in love with her. I do trust her. She is a professional, and always is well prepared for her gigs, but I can't help worrying about her. How could I not? It's a dangerous business.

"Helloooo? Are you in there?" I heard. Bailey's pretty blue eyes penetrated the haze. She was leaning forward, resting her breasts on my chest, and squeezing her pussy around my shaft. I focused again, and she smiled. "Ah, there you are! I thought I lost you." She pecked me on the lips.

"Sorry, honey. It's a lot to digest. Please don't be angry," I said softly. I'd never had a woman stop fucking me because of distracting thoughts before. Of course, I'd never had a woman like Bailey before, either.

"Angry? Because you care about me, and my safety?" A soft smile crossed her lips. "I'm still a woman, you know? It's nice to be cared about. I'm not angry. I just don't know what more I can do to ease your mind."

"Dar Robinson did this, didn't he?" I asked her. She smiled.

"You've been searching the Internet, haven't you?" she giggled.

"Well, my girlfriend is a stunt performer. I was curious."

"There's that 'girlfriend' word again," she grinned. "It's going to go to my head." She was still resting on my chest, gazing into my eyes from inches away. She traced a fingertip over my lips, then kissed me. "Yes, Dar did this, several times. Successfully. He set the standard. He also showed us what not to do. He died doing a stunt he'd done a thousand times. It was nothing, a milk run, on a motorcycle. He made the mistake of taking it too lightly. No matter how many times you feed a tiger, it's always going to be a tiger, and always capable of taking your life. If you remember that...and I do, every day...you stay in control." Another kiss followed. "Trust me, please. I know it's dangerous, but that's the point. I won't take anything for granted, and I won't do it until I feel absolutely comfortable with the setup."

"Comfortable? Somehow that wouldn't be my choice of words," I laughed. "334 feet from a helicopter is a long way down. How long will you be in the air?"

"About six or seven seconds, but they shoot it slightly faster than normal, so it looks longer. It's actually kinda fun, and one hell of a rush."

It occurred to me that I would never be comfortable with the idea of her doing what she does, and she would never stop doing it to make me comfortable. That left me with a simple choice to make ; trust her to be in control of her own safety, or...walk away.

And...I didn't want to walk away. I had become attached to her. This conflict proved it. I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"Okay. It's going to take a bit of getting used to," I smiled, "but I'm with you. I trust you."

"Good. Now..." she whispered, flexing her pussy around my cock, which had softened, but was still inside her, "...Where were we?"

Bailey leaned closer, and kissed me again. Her soft, luscious lips tasted so sweet, and she playfully pulled back several times, not allowing my tongue to reach hers, despite my repeated attempts. Finally she relented, and we locked together. The passion of the embrace did the trick, flipping my internal switch from 'concerned' to 'aroused', and causing a corresponding reversal of blood flow to my penis. It began to swell again, and she noticed immediately.

"Ooooo...he's baa-aaack!" she giggled, giving it a pelvic squeeze. "I love that feeling of it growing while it's already inside me." She resumed the kiss, waiting until I was fully hard before she began to stroke herself again. Soon she was sitting up again, high in the saddle. I was the horse, and I watched her bounce enjoyably on my very appreciative erection.

Bounce was the word. If you've been paying attention at all, I'm sure you can guess why, and that I found it hypnotic. Bailey's perfect breasts dangled in my face, jiggling jauntily, and urging me to partake in some nipple stimulation. I was happy to do so, and gathered one of the stiff little nubs into my mouth, suckling deeply. She moaned softly, and stroked my hair.

"That's my good boy...all stiff and hard for me to ride, and sucking my tits so nicely," she smiled.

With my fears somewhat assuaged, and pushed aside by my libido, a certain level of normalcy returned to our day, and to our relationship. Well, normal for us, anyway.

We reconnected, and for about a week, we were just like any dating couple. Walking arm in arm, dinners out, movies...all the usual stuff.

Mostly we had sex, though. Lots of sex. Lots of deeply satisfying sex... satisfying on more levels than merely the physical. It was lovely, and confirmed the thoughts and feelings of the last two years in her absence.

She had me hooked.

***

I had some vacation time coming, so I took a break from pointlessly shuffling papers at my office job to become more involved in Bailey's stunt. By 'involved', I suppose I was being ambitious in my description, as I was merely in attendance while she did the work. She was all for me being there, confident that I would feel better about things if I was able to see all the planning that went into the preparation.

She was right, of course, but feeling better was a relative term. On a scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is totally relaxed, and 10 is scared shitless, I went from a 46 down to 18. A huge improvement, but it fell well short of giving the whole thing a glowing recommendation.

If it wasn't totally comforting, it was at least interesting. Very interesting. I was amazed at how much technology was involved. And math, lots of math. Next time someone complains about things they learned in high school that they've never used, smack them up the side of the head for me. Of course, a lot of this is brought about by the fact that it's difficult to hang a plumb bob from a helicopter 334 feet in the air, and say 'put the airbag here'. Even if you could, it would be hard to put the chopper back over the exact same place again. That's where GPS comes in.

Yes, it's good for a lot more than finding your way to Grandma's house. As the technology has matured, it can now do more than tell you to turn right on Main street, and with a sensitive enough receiver, it is possible to know your exact location on the planet, in three dimensions, within 5 meters.

However, 5 meters is an awfully big error from 102 meters up. It's partially because of the lag required to process the signals from satellites that are so far away, and moving relative to the receiver.

So, for purposes of avoiding a disastrous miss of the target, they create their own signals, aimed up, instead of down, from a set of four transmitters placed in extremely precise locations around the dead centre (there's that word again...dead) of the airbag. Those signals are strong, direct and on a discrete frequency. They allow the pilot to know the exact height of the helicopter to within inches, and the position over the target with equal accuracy.

That's accuracy I can live with. Bailey even took me for a ride in the chopper to show me the system at work. It was pretty impressive, especially when she dropped a paint marker as we hovered over the zone.

Once we landed, she walked me over to the markings on the ground where the airbag was to be placed. The area was about to size of a small single story house, about a eight hundred square feet, with lines that crossed diagonally from corner to corner, marking the exact centre.

The paint blot was only a foot and a half off centre.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Much," I smiled. Down to about an 11.

Now that I knew her beautiful body wasn't going to miss the target due to error, there was only one real issue ; the target.

Perhaps you've heard the saying 'it's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop'? Truer words were never spoken. The emphasis should be on the word 'sudden'.

You can fall thirty feet onto concrete and die. Very sudden stop. You can also fall a hundred feet into water and live. It's not just that water is softer. Ask anyone who's done a belly flop in a pool how soft water is. It's also that it spreads the deceleration over a longer duration, and that reduces the g-load to survivable levels.

That's where the airbag comes in. The trick is to adjust the deflation speed so that it's not too slow (she'd just bounce off) and not too fast (splat). It has to be in the appropriately named 'Goldilocks' zone ; just right.

To make sure that was the case, Bailey ran several trials, tossing a g-sensor equipped dummy out of the helicopter, then checking the data. The deflation gates were adjusted, and the test was run again, over and over until the g-loads were well within the green. WELL within.

My anxiety level dropped into the green, as well. I trusted Bailey, but in truth I needed more than just 'trust me because I say so'. She knew that.

That's why she wanted me to see her process in action. Now that I had the understanding, I could relax.

At least, until the day I would have to watch my darling throw herself out of a helicopter.

334 feet.

Fuck.

***

Just to prove the equipment was functioning perfectly, Bailey spent some time every day in the chopper, tossing paint markers of various colours out of the open door. By the time she was done, there was a multicoloured paint blot three feet in diameter, in the centre of the cross hairs. She was satisfied, so I was, too.

I would prefer the only falls she took be into our bed, from my arms... but if she had to do it, at least I knew she was well prepared.

As if my anxiety level wasn't high enough dealing with the 'big fall', Bailey's physical talents were required for another stunt, as well.

This one was a car stunt, pretty simple, but still dangerous.

According to the script, Scarlett's character is driving the car, and fighting with her passenger, one of the antagonists in the film. After an elbow to the head that stuns the bad guy, she opens the door and bails out, just as the car goes off the road, and over an embankment.

It was a perfect example of how the movies trick us, because that one scene was a combination of several shots. Some were using Scarlett herself, in a car on a trailer. Some were externals, and close ups. Then there was Bailey's bit, a relatively small section, if you went by time. But without it, there was no conflict resolution, and Scarlett's character dies along with the baddie.

Compared to the high fall, this one was simple. That's also what made it dangerous. As Bailey had said, Dar Robinson took the stunt that killed him too lightly, made a mistake, and died. She promised not to make that same error, but she had to be distracted by the much more difficult action to come.

I was so proud of her. She truly was a consummate professional, and walked through this gig with her usual, thorough attention. Only when she was totally satisfied did the cameras roll, and I watched her tumble out the drivers side door with perfect timing. The camera just below caught both Bailey and the car as they arced through the frame, and another recorded the car as it flipped and crashed down the hill.

Blocked from view by strategically placed bushes, a landing pad and net accepted Bailey's body on its ballistic trajectory, and brought her to a safe stop.

Piece of cake. Next.

A few clean up shots with Bailey running and diving down the hillside into those bushes followed. Later, Scarlett would do close ups amid branches and flying dirt, looking pretty and exciting for the audience, but I would always know who really risked her life for our entertainment.

With her day complete, I took my girl home. I had my own job to do for her.

The shower in my apartment was more spacious than the one in her trailer. Within minutes of arriving at home, we were both under the soothing spray, and I was inspecting her for damage. Two bruises, and a small abrasion on her hip left me a very short list of places that required my boo boo kisses, and I quickly moved on to areas I was kissing for pleasure alone. That was a much more comprehensive process.

After I dried us off, we retired to the bedroom, where I resumed my duties.

"Would you like a massage?" I asked her. "I'm not a pro, or anything, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

"Well duh!" she giggled. "I make it a rule never to turn down a massage." She arranged herself on her stomach quickly, just in case I changed my mind. "Please. Do me."

'Do me' gave me a lot of latitude. Okay honey. Prepare to be done.

I put some lotion on my hands, and began with her upper back and shoulders. Despite her feminine appeal, she was very strong and muscular. I didn't hold back, leaning into my hands fully. I knew she wouldn't break.

"Mmmmm," she groaned. "I could get used to this. Okay, you're hired."

"We didn't even discuss salary," I said quietly, digging into the base of her neck. She moaned deeply, and exhaled.

"Oooooooooo, I think you'll find my...ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...bennnnnefit package is woooooorth whiiiiiiile," she smiled.

Benefit package? Cute. I liked it.

As I continued to work on her, it occurred to me that this might be the perfect time to ask some of those questions I wanted ask. Relaxation should get me some answers.

"So honey, you said you missed me?" I asked her.

"Huh?" she moaned.

"When you arrived at my apartment...remember?" I said, still kneading her shoulders. "That night, you said you missed me. Did you?"

"You're asking me about that now?" she giggled in a lazy, almost sleepy voice. "It's been weeks."

"Well, I forgot about it, and just remembered," I smiled, moving down her back. She groaned again.

"Yes honey, I missed you," she breathed.

One down. Now the harder one.

"How many other 'tension releasers' have you had the last two years?" I asked, hoping it didn't sound too accusatory.

"Are you sure you want to ask me that?" she whispered. My hands were working her lower back, just about to move onto her ass. "How many girls have you had?"

"Three," I answered freely. "I kept comparing them to you, and they didn't match up well. You're a tough act to follow."

"That's very sweet of you to say," she sighed. I was now kneading her muscular behind, and occasionally dipping into her crack to tease her a little. "Two," she breathed, "for largely the same reasons."

She turned her head in my direction, and opened her eyes slowly.

"You're hard to follow, too," she smiled.

As well as pumping up my ego, and my dick, her admission gave me hope that she was feeling that same way I was...that we were more than just the physical act to each other.

My hands had paused while she was speaking to my heart, and now I resumed, shifting down to massage her feet. I had never known a woman who didn't melt during a good foot massage, and Bailey was no exception.

"Oh god, yes honey," she groaned. "That's so good. I love it. Keep going, please."

Now, don't get me wrong, but...rubbing her feet was as far away from the bits I wanted to touch as I could get. As much as I loved pleasing her, I wanted a little something myself.

I switched feet often, eliciting the moans of joy I was seeking. Moving up her legs, my hands worked her calves deeply. Based solely on her vocalizations, I'd say she was enjoying this as well, and when I began to move north again, she spoke.

"Are you sure you're not a professional?" she sighed, "because this is heavenly. I think I love you."

I froze for a second, then kept going while considering my response. It took me a few seconds to sort it out, and she beat me to the punch.

"I hope that didn't come out wrong," she said quietly. "I don't want to put extra pressure on you, and I know that my career would make any man think twice before making an emotional commitment..."

"Shut up," I laughed, smacking her ass. "I love you too, so stop making excuses."

Bailey giggled, and lifted her butt a few inches.

"Want to spank me again?" she asked, flexing her firm glutes. "I'm a very bad girl."

"Yes you are," I smiled, rubbing her thighs deeply. "That's one of the things I love about you."

She laughed again, and relaxed, lowering her backside to its resting position. Her thighs spread a few inches, giving me more access as I continued working her hamstrings. I could feel her beginning to shiver.

"Cold?" I asked, pausing my actions.

"Horny," she replied, spreading her legs a little more. "Don't forget to rub... everything."

Hmmm, let's see...neck, back, butt...feet, calves, thighs...I had covered everything on this side...except...

I dipped my hands between her lean yet muscular thighs, and slid upward. She inhaled in anticipation, and groaned as I just grazed her labia, on the way to tease her tight little sphincter. I ran my fingers over it several times, plucking the rim gently. Bailey sighed, and her ass did a little dance under my digits. One hand reached back, and captured my hand, pulling it away from her puckered rosebud. She rolled over deftly.

"Darling, it's not that I don't like having my back door pleasured," she smiled, arranging herself for comfort and free access, legs spread. "Someday, I might let you break it in for me, but today, I'd like it in the traditional opening." She put my hand on her mound, then pressed her fingers over mine. She hooked my fingers between her puffy, slippery lips, then left me to it, reaching for my own obvious arousal.

"You play with mine... I'll be checking out yours," she giggled, pulling me closer, and twisting her body to bring my weapon within range. She smiled, and licked the head of my cock. I watched her lips open, and slide so deliciously over my shaft.

It's a good thing that my bed sits quite high, otherwise this could have been an uncomfortable exercise of contortions. As it is, her body was laid out nicely on a platter, and I was hungry for a taste.

My right hand burrowed deeper between her thighs, my two middle fingers worming inside her damp cleft. My cock was disappearing into Bailey's mouth, and her moans vibrated through my loins, encouraging me to probe deeper still.

My left hand was stroking her beautiful blonde mane, but... If I turned my shoulders just a bit I could reach her breasts. Mmmm, so soft, yet resilient, and enough to fill my hand beyond capacity. So now I had both hands busy, giving a decidedly personal massage, and receiving one as well.

My fingers plunged in and out of her pussy, and she was sucking me furiously. It was an unspoken race to see who would pop first. She was winning, but I had a little trick that might turn the tide for me. Now... where is that...ah, there it is. A patch of texture, deep inside, on her anterior wall.

I rubbed across it firmly, pressing in harder, and causing her to gasp around my cock. A deep groan followed, and what I interpreted as 'oh my god', mumbled past her cocksucking lips. Target acquired...full speed ahead. I began to stimulate her mysterious, mythical, but totally real g-spot, pressing, rubbing and thrusting at warp speed.