Thursday I ended up working late. Wasn't MY fault. We closed breakers the size of washing machines to squirt electricity into a part of the system that powered a couple of big electric motors. I knew my electrical equipment was good, but as happens all too often, when the commissioning team started the first of my little (smaller than a pickup truck. Twenty-five hundred horsepower) motors, it spun a couple of times and tripped.

AND as is usually the case, that meant that a mechanical engineer in charge of test-running some pumps comes screaming into my substation hollering that there must be some sort of electrical problem. I routed him to my computer, set up for JUST this event, because heaven knows, this is NOT Dan's first rodeo.

I pointed out the record of the start attempt and said, "There's where it tripped. Notice the flag, Randy. It says 'external device trip'. Since you guys insist on protecting YOUR equipment by tripping MY motor, you oughtta make sure everything is right before you ask ME to start up." Yeah. Just a wee bit of sarcasm. But I was smiling when I said it.

At least Randy was smiling when he said, "asshole!"

"Of course," I continued, rubbing a little salt in his open wounds, "you guys DID set up your field trips to latch and tag the event record so we can find out exactly what tripped from out there, right? My stuff does that!"

"Mine better do that," he said. Off he stalked.

He didn't return immediately, so I had to hunt him down. "So what'd you find, Randy?" At least I didn't ask him that in front of the boss.

His face spoke volumes. "Dammit, Dan! We hired these people to program that system, and it's just like you said: the trip inputs don't latch. They're fixing that right now."

"So what tripped us, then?"

He said, "We had to go line by line through the event log, but somebody forgot to open a valve to a sensor. It didn't see oil pressure. We're going to be ready to try another start at a quarter to four, after the guy finishes updating the logic."

I saw myself leaving late, then. "I'll be here. But as soon as my motor's up to speed and you guys load that compressor up, I'm gone."

Randy laughed. "If I had a cutie like Cindy waiting on me, I'd be gone, too!"

I grinned. Every time somebody mentioned Cindy out here, I couldn't help but smile. Randy was one of the bunch that started the 'Apprentice Engineer' tag. I flipped my cellphone open and did a quick text to Cindy: "I'll be a little late this evening. Call me when you get out of school."

I walked into a couple of my other substations and talked with my electrical crew and technicians, killing time, short-stopping a few issues, then retired to my office and worked though signing off some test reports. I watched the clock dragging toward four o'clock.

Cindy called and I told her the situation. "Just come home when you can, sweetie. If it's after five or so, I'll eat here."

Randy's bunch is running late. I was just getting out of my chair to go see what was slowing things down when I heard his voice on the radio.

"Come in, Dan Richards." Randy's voice.

"Go ahead, Randy." I said, putting my jacket on.

"We'll be ready for a run when you get here."

"On the way, dude," I said.

This time things worked exactly as we expected. They ran all the way up to full load with not a single adverse electrical indication. Randy walked into the substation.

"See what happens when mechanical gets their shit together?" I teased.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Randy laughed. "We'll do Number 2 Pump first thing in the morning."

"Wanna bet it runs okay?" I jibed, heading for the door. I looked at my lead technician. "Jason?"

"Piece a'cake," He laughed.

I called Cindy when I got in the truck. "Hi, baby! I'm on the road."

"I thought you might be. I'm being all domestic an' stuff..."

Domestic? Cindy was neat around our little domicile. She did her share of dishes and sweeping and such, and as far as we both could fit in the kitchenette area, she helped out, but never had she announced herself as domestic. So... "Oh yeah?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. I'm getting all the stuff ready to make pasta alla carbonara. I was gonna wait until you called to start heating the pan."

"Heat the pan, princess," I said.

I walked into the trailer to find the smell of garlic and onion and bacon. She was doing it. Our biggest pot was boiling on the back burner with the pasta. I saw a little bowl with freshly grated Parmesan cheese. And with that smile and those eyes, she could've served me a plate of wood chips and I'd've been happy, but she knew that I favored a carbonara every now and then, quick, filling, and she was sure trying...

"Boiling the pasta heats the trailer, too. The air gets so dry in here."

Cindy in an apron. I was astounded. I said so.

"Just tryin' to be a good little wifey," she giggled. I kissed her on the top of her head. She laughed. "It's about time I actually cooked us a meal that didn't include "Peel the plastic film off the tater tots."

I laughed. "You can't be EVERYTHING. Except maybe to me ... and you don't need to cook for that..."

A few minutes later we were sitting at the table. She was twirling her pasta onto her fork. "Well, husband, how's the meal?" her eyes twinkled.

"Perfect!" I admitted.

"I put more pepper in it than I thought it needed." She had little beads of perspiration on her forehead.

"I think it's perfect, baby. But you don't have to make yourself uncomfortable. I can add pepper to mine."

"Maybe I'll cut back just a little next time. But that red pepper sure smelled good in the oil. And I took the eggs out when I got in the trailer so they'd be at room temperature, like you said."

"You nailed it, Cindy." I ate lustily. It was a favorite dish, one that was hard to find done right in a restaurant, and I liked my version. The one Cindy nailed.

"For real?" she said. "Tell me if I need to do something different next time."

"Nothing, baby. Seriously."

Giggle again. "Then I should be, like, rewarded?" Green eyes flashed, along with a killer smirk that morphed into a smile. "Reward. You know. Cold night. Warm bodies ... Reward!"

I wasn't dense, you know ... I just liked hearing her verbal joustings about our very satisfying love life. "I suppose you ARE due for a reward. After we air the place out so it doesn't smell like an Italian lunchbox. And we get some showers." I smiled. "But since you were EXTRA good, you will get an extra special reward if you want."

We made short order of cleaning up after dinner, and the brisk wind cleared the trailer's stale air in a matter of minutes, although the temperature dropped almost thirty degrees. A half-hour of TV sharing a stadium blanket (little blanket. Two people have to be VERY friendly to fit under one) for warmth until the heating system recovered. Then it was time for a couple of showers.

'Rewarding' Cindy is its own reward.

"Leave the heat up, baby," she said. "I don't want blankets in the way." Her eyes twinkled with happy lust. Stark, delightfully naked, she crawled into the bed, tossing the spread and blankets back out of the way as she looked back at me, her copper hair pulled back over one ear.

I bowled her over onto her back and kissed her once, then twice, then her titties were just too damned alluring to ignore, so I fastened my mouth on first one, then another. She curled her torso around me, pulling my face into her.

"Gah, Dan, you make me CRAZY!"

"You're my everything, Cin," I answered. "You're my dreams, in such a cute package." I kissed my way downward from her titties. My lips brushed their way through the wisps of red hair on her soft mound and landed on the beginnings of a moist, fragrant slit.

"Oh, yesssss!" and then a giggle. "Love it! Just LOVE it!"

"Lots of fun doing it, too, cutie!" I couldn't restrain a giggle myself as she wiggled excitedly. Her fingers pushed the back of my head, signaling her enjoyment. Her breathing changed cadence.

"Get up here, you," she giggled. "I have a hunger."

"Whatever for, little redhead?" I asked jokingly as I moved up onto the bed.

She didn't talk. She pushed me onto my back and spun around, climbing atop me.

"Omigod..." I blurted as her mouth closed over my hardness.

Giggle. "You like THAT? Then you'll LOVE this!" Her teeth gripped me with expert pressure and she wiggled her pussy into my face.

For a couple more minutes I licked and savored her soft musky delights and then she pulled my dick from her mouth, holding it against her cheek as she shuddered through an orgasm. I didn't stop. The second came shuddering behind it.

She rolled sideways off me and said, "Dan, get in me. Do me..."

And my orgasm took place with her mouth firmly welded to mine, swallowing my groans, her legs wrapped around mine, holding me in as I shuddered uncontrollably. She gently rolled me over and then swung back into a delicious sixty-nine. This time when I feasted on her, her own juices were mixed with mine. She was sucking and licking me clean.

When we finished, I reluctantly got up and lowered the thermostat and passed her nightshirt to her as I crawled back in our bed. We pulled the covers up and she snuggled into my chest. I looked at her soft, sweet face from a distance of inches and felt nothing but love.

"Cindy, I love you again today..."

She purred into my chest. "I love you too, Dan. Thank you for all this..."

"This?"

"This life. Friends. Family. A world."

"Cindy," I said, "I was just going through the motions when you came along. Sometimes I look back and think I was like a coloring book, black lines on a white page, and meeting you is like giving that page to Rembrandt."

Giggle. "Thank you, love," she said. "Punch that playlist up. The one with 'Air on a G-String' and 'Moonlight Sonata'. You're holding me and I can't imagine it being more perfect."

Stereo on. Lights off. And the soft breathing of the one I loved most in the world.

The rest of the week? Nominal, as they say. Cindy went to school. I went to work.

Saturday morning we got up, ate breakfast, and drove to the Hardesty house. Cindy, Ann and Teresa loaded up in the Hardesty SUV, headed to the mall in Mobile. Jim, Billy and I loaded up a few firearms and some ammo and headed to the rifle range. In January it was cold and deserted. We had the place to ourselves.

At Jim's request I had the shotgun that made Cindy famous, and a couple dozen shells. Jim took a turn, I took a turn, and Bill, well, he was about fifteen pounds lighter and four years younger than Cindy, but, in his words, "If Cindy can shoot it, I can shoot it." Two rounds later, full-bore twelve-gauge had given him a reason to pick up his dad's .22.

He did run a magazine through my AR-15, though, and did pretty good. Jim said, "I tried to teach 'im."

"He's doing okay, Jim. A little coaching and..." I said.

Jim said, "And another expensive hobby." He smiled. "He can shoot a million shots on the X-Box. Costs me diddly."

"Yeah, but a young man and a rifle..." I smiled.

After the shooting was over, we visited the fried catfish emporium for lunch, then headed back to Jim's for firearms maintenance.