The Last Baby Machine

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

1967...
I sat shivering next to my boyfriend Peter in the tiny deserted waiting room of the Playboy airport in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. The sky was just beginning to turn light in the east. The air was heavy and still and so damn cold.
Peter said that no one would expect a plane to come here.
(I didn't understand.)
But, he was right. It wasn't long before a medium sized Lear jet passed low over the deserted airstrip. Minutes later, it touched down on the runway that Hefner had built long enough to accommodate his personal jet.
As the engines were winding down, the front ramp opened and two guys our age stepped out. They were followed by two older men dressed in odd-looking uniforms. I think, the last two were in their late fifties.
The taller of the two glanced at Peter and nodded, seeming to know my friend. Then his eyes moved toward me.
I smiled, but received no recognition.
“Wer ist sie?” he said harshly indicating toward me.
“Don't speak,” Peter whispered as he stepped forward.
He shook hands with the man who I guessed was the captain of the plane. They began to speak in German. I'd never heard Peter speak in that language before. I had no idea that he knew German or any other language for that matter. The tone of the conversation became heated until finally the Captain raised his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender, then slapped his sides, and walked off.
“It'll be fine,” said Peter, “He hadn't expected more passengers. He's complaining about having to recalculate his fuel consumption. It's a long flight.”
But, I didn't believe my lover. I couldn't accept that my one hundred and eighteen pounds was that critical to the Captain's stupid mileage. No. There was more to this.
“Sweetheart, I can go back to school,” I said softly to Peter, “I know you have to leave. Just, go. It'll be all right.”
But before I could finish speaking, Peter was already shaking his head, no.
Was he afraid that I'd move on to other men? Probably.
This was the era of free love and even while he'd pursued me last fall, I'd allowed a few other guys to have me. (Or was it that I had them.)
To be fair at six foot three, Peter was my Adonis. Maybe it was his long blond hair. Maybe it was those broad shoulders and hard muscles and those intense blue eyes. Or, maybe it was that immense shaft between his legs that made me gasp every time he entered me. I've slept with some lovely men. The Madison campus was full of them. But none were as spectacular as my Peter.
It was near the end of the fall semester in 1967 and suddenly, Peter had gotten his draft notice. He and I had been an item for the past three months. But then, he was ordered to appear for induction into the army. It didn't make sense at the time. Later, I learned that his grades had slipped. He'd dropped a necessary class and now the draft board was closing in.
Peter's choices were few. He could let himself be taken by the draft board or he could enlist in some branch of the service or he could run. But instead of Canada, my lover had another choice. His two older brothers worked at a resort in Chile. Peter had been born in the US while his brothers had been born in what later become the American sector of Germany. Years later, the brothers were offered work at a place called Colonia Dignidad in Chile, a resort that catered exclusively to German tourists. (Or so I thought.)
I'd sort-of liked the idea of having an adventure in South America with my lover and ultimately, caved in to his desire to take me with him.
He said we could walk the mountains, make love in the snow as the hot sun burned my bare ass or snuggle by a fire covered with blankets. I thought about the commune that I'd stayed in last summer and visualized that we'd be free spirits roaming the countryside or something like that.
Little did I know.
An hour later, we were in the air and I was committed to Peter and this place (whatever it was) in Chile.
As we flew, I got the impression that we were on a sort-of commuter bus/airplane picking up people along the way and then all of us would be deposited in Chile. Our next stop was near Denver where we'd pick up another like Peter.
Still, I was the only one on the plane without a strong connection to this resort and most of the conversations were in German, which left me out. Occasionally, Peter would translate. The rest of the time, I sat and smiled or read.
From Denver, we flew to a small airport forty miles outside of San Diego. Again, we picked up one passenger, another male in his early twenties.
The layover here was longer than Denver or the Playboy Club while special tank truck pulled up to the jet. I guessed that they were topping up the fuel. The Captain walked around the plane poking and wiggling things. Occasionally, I caught him glancing at me. Still, I couldn't understand why he didn't like me.
As the sun moved further toward the west, our crowded little jet took off, again. But the flight was odd this time. First, we headed south, flying low. Then suddenly, we banked hard and again, flew low heading west and out over the ocean.
Goodness! Sometimes it seemed as if I could have reached out and let my fingers drag in the water. We stayed low for another hour.
Conversation in the plane was muted. I think everyone felt as nervous as I did.
“Captain Schroeder was a jet pilot in the big war. He's very good at what he does,” Peter said softly and took my hand.
“Korea?” I asked.
Peter shook his head, no.
“World War two?” I asked?
Peter nodded.
“But the only jets in World War two, were German...” I said, letting my sentence drift off.
Our eyes met and Peter nodded again saying, “He was one of their best. Many kills.”
“What have I gotten into?” I thought to myself.
Suddenly, the plane made a hard turn to the left and started to rise sharply. We went up through the clouds and kept climbing. Bright sunlight filled our cabin as the roar of the jets became more muted and finally, we leveled off. Now, all I could see were clouds and an occasional glimpse of ocean far below.
Peter's hand slid between my legs and up to the apex of my thighs. How could this guy be thinking of sex when we'd come so close to being nothing but a little splash in the ocean? I began to place my hand over his and then thought better of it and relaxed, letting my legs spread.
Maybe this was why he'd wanted us to sit in the back. I unsnapped my jeans and loosened them a bit and before I'd finished, his hand was inside my panties. A finger entered me and my hips tried to buck as I surrendered to my man. The tension slowly drained from my body while my lust started to rise.
Over the next hour, my lover took me to a place higher than our plane as moans of ecstasy quietly slipped out of me.



Note: A new chapter will be posted within two days and every day or two thereafter until our story is concluded.
That is my promise.
I hope you enjoy.
JM