"No, that's your domain." She grabs her purse from the floor and pulls out a pill bottle. "Besides, I've got my motion sickness remedy. That means you can go nuts on the streets of Manchester."
Oh, aye. I could fall in love with this woman for certain.
Not that I plan to do that.
As we get closer to the airport, I need to focus on our approach and keeping in contact with the air traffic controller via radio. Ashley stays quiet and watches out the side window as we gradually make our descent toward the runway. She must be anxious, but the lass is hiding it well. When I reach over to give her hand a quick squeeze, she aims a tight smile at me.
"Almost there," I say. "Now it's time to make our final approach."
I've done this many times at many different airports, air strips, and even in the desert with no runway. I could tell Ashley that, but I think she understands now that I will not crash us into anything. We touch down without incident, and we're directed to our assigned slot where we will leave the plane. I help Ashley climb down the ladder and follow her onto the tarmac.
"See?" I say. "No explosions or fiery crashes. We survived."
Ashley throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. "Thank you for being so patient with me, Errol. And thank you for the amazing orgasm too."
"Orgasms, plural. I made ye come twice."
"That you did." She steps back and straightens her clothes, then pats her hair as if she's checking that it still looks all right. "Where's our car?"
"It will be here any moment." I sling an arm around her waist and tug the lass into me. "How about a kiss while we wait?"
She opens her mouth as if to speak, but something past my shoulder grabs her attention. "What is that?"
I turn sideways while keeping her tucked against me. "Ah, that would be Roger. He lets me borrow his car whenever I fly into Manchester."
"But that is a hearse."
"Roger also owns a funeral home."
Her eyes go wide. "Please don't tell me there's a dead body in that car."
I chuckle. "No, lass. Only you and I will ride in that vehicle."
Her shoulders sag. "Oh, thank goodness."
My mate meets us near the plane and hands me the car keys. Then Ashley and I take our seats and begin the last leg of our journey to the home of Wilfrid Ellsworth, the bloke who owns the original version of the map Ashley had shown me. As we pull into the driveway, I can't help smirking.
I point at the dashboard clock. "Look at that. I got us here two minutes ahead of schedule. Now, I seem to recall someone was worried we would never get here on time."
"Yes, okay, I admit it. You were right. I was wrong. Never again will I question your ability to get me somewhere on time."
"Thank you. I always appreciate validation from a bonnie, sexy lass."
I park alongside the car I assume belongs to Ellsworth. His driveway is quite wide, so there's plenty of room. Our hearse is an older model, while Ellsworth's car looks like a brand-new red Aston Martin. Well, if he's rich, that would explain how he could buy a rare artifact like the map we've come to see.
Ashley and I walk up the steps onto the porch, and I ring the bell.
The door opens a moment later, and a gray-haired gent with a deeply wrinkled face scans us as if he means to determine whether we're friend or foe. "Who are you?"
No pleasantries, then.
I offer my hand. "Errol Murdoch. And this lovely lass is Ashley Hartman, the one who called you yesterday to arrange a viewing of the map."
"Do you have identification?"
So he's that sort. This man reminds me of Mungo Gunn, but without the smell of marijuana wafting off him. I get out my driving license and hand it to him.
He seems satisfied.