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"Limit Creek approach, Victor Hotel - Echo Victor Quebec," Diane said, her Bose avionics headset damp on her ears, her brunette hair frizzy in the humidity.

"Go ahead, Victor Quebec."

She'd tuned into the Australian accent during their period in Perth. Getting qualified on their new Twin Otter aircraft, they'd also altered their uniforms for the hot weather and gained vital outback survival training.

"Limit Creek approach, Victor Hotel - Echo Victor Quebec, is a Twin Otter five miles southwest at four thousand feet, VFR. Request joining instructions."

They'd been flying using visual flight references for days, ferrying their plane into the outback from Perth via regular fuel stops. A thousand kilometers of dusty red dirt highway lay behind their tail. Flying strict compass bearings, they had Limit Creek in sight. Their home for their next fifteen hundred flying hours baked under the midday sun.

Joining downwind beside the red dirt airstrip of their future, Tamsin trimmed their aircraft for descent. Retreating the roof mounted throttles, she glanced at Diane. Their Viking Twin Otter, bought from a local airline which failed, had flown only five hundred miles when placed in their care.

Diane grinned at her co-pilot, Limit Creek, centered on their Honeywell weather radar screen. Twin humming Pratt and Whitney turbo props hung under their high wings, delivering steady power as Tamsin eased them down along their smooth approach.

Airstrip ahead, Tamsin guided her nose towards its unmarked landing zone, reducing their engine power as her flight partner flicked switches, an integrated dance qualifying them in Perth as Twin Otter pilots. Famous for its short take off and landing, she'd calculated Limit Creek's runway exceeded their Twin Otter's demands by five fold.

Closing fast, Tamsin held her nerve as dust clouds stormed around them. Flaring her nose, she set their weighty wheels onto their red-dirt home strip at eighty knots. Pulling her power, their phenomenal plane stopped almost dead in three times its length. Taking over, Diane taxied them along the dusty strip as Tamsin received radio guidance to their ground destination.

Engines throbbing, they drew up in front of a well-used wooden hanger. Once painted white, its incongruous fresh sign read 'DCA Cargo'. Leased by Diamond Cross Air Cargo Australia, a corporation licensed beneath a helpful local airline's Air Operator Certificate, this hangar would house their precious aircraft.

Shutting down their engines, they completed their checklists, ignoring their new world outside. Disembarking, the heat hit them, offering no reprieve. They'd agreed on their uniforms, changing their pants to thin black cotton in Perth. Determined to cut sharp, professional figures in their rustic environment, their hips carried bright orange EPIRB beacons. They'd registered their life saving Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacons to their identities. If triggered, satellites above Australia would declare their emergency, sending rescue. Living far from help wasn't a joke, as their survival training had taught them. Taken into the bush outside Perth, they'd discovered how fast dehydration disabled them, learning water hunting skills they hoped to never need.

Diane yanked the small hangar door, finding it unlocked. Timber slabs stacked alongside gray sacks covered the far wall. Packaged pallets they'd need to disassemble rested in the center. Near her was a bare concrete floor. She step-measured the space.

Tamsin watched. "Will she fit?"

"Like a beaut," Diane called. She'd picked up perfect Aussie lingo from their flight instructor in Perth. A relaxed military veteran, he'd spoken pure Australian. She dragged open the gigantic hangar doors. Well oiled, their efficient movement belied the worn external appearance of their business headquarters.

Adjusting her long black ponytail, Tamsin ripped the pull cord on the gas powered white towing tug, erupting fresh engine noise in the hangar as she pulled it behind her. Lining it up with their white plane, she slipped the tug beneath the nose wheel, spinning their yellow striped Twin Otter with consummate ease. Guiding its sixty-five foot wingspan backwards into its lair, she grinned at her nimble proficiency in the harsh outback heat.

Closing the hangar doors, they retreated to the corner office unit. White partitions with waist-height windows provided a view of their nestled airplane. Natural light blazed through an external window, spotlighting the squat pale-blue table fan perched on the industrial brown carpet.

Diane checked the uninspiring view of their neighboring hangar. Tamsin dived at the fan, starting waves of refreshing air wafting across their empty office. A bundle of navy blue overalls placed against one wall suggested occupation. The building supplies hadn't stacked themselves.

Sitting cross-legged in front of their pleasant stream of air, Tamsin gave a deep sigh. Diane joined her. "We're here," she said.

"It's daunting. All that stuff." Tamsin waved towards their packed hangar. "I hope our laborer has chunky muscles."

Thousands of miles away at Diamond Cross Air Headquarters, their project manager handled strategy, acquisition, legal and finance. He'd promised a permanent laborer to receive deliveries and load their aircraft. The unlocked door, overalls and organized construction materials suggested he existed. Someone had filled their hangar, leaving perfect space for their airplane.

Picking her iPhone off the floor, Tamsin observed her new reality - no signal.

"The house has satellite internet," Diane said. "Shall we unload our bags and remove those extra fuel bladders?"

Black flight bags joined their forty-five-liter green rucksacks in the hangar's corner. They unstrapped the inflatable fuel bladders from their cargo restraints. Avoiding unnecessary stops, their extra fuel capacity had cut their journey to Limit Creek by three whole days. The cleared aircraft cabin contained only six blue-cloth passenger seats in two rows behind their cockpit.

Tired, they returned to their fan, grateful for its generous power. Setting her sat-phone on the windowsill for best reception, Tamsin asked, "Where is our house?"

"If we walk towards the town, we might recognize it from the photos."

The wooden street-door slammed. Peering out earlier, they'd seen hard-packed red dirt, bush scrub, and a track towards town. A tall guy in khaki shorts and a frayed red vest top walked into their cool paradise.

"G'day," he said. "Name's Jake."

Clambering to her tired feet, Diane said, "Are you our guy?"

"I'd love to be your guy," he said, grinning.

"Um. I mean..."

"I'm your laborer," he declared, his affable smile defusing his joke. "Are you Diane?"

"Sure am," she said, regaining control.

His full-power smile settled on Tamsin, stimulating a swift flame in her willing sex.

"Tamsin, I assume."

Shaking his huge hand, she smiled. His powerful male grip offered distinct possibilities for her private pleasure. "Did you organize all that construction material?" she asked.

"The forklift helped. Billy has delivered four loads. You're keeping his truck full."

"How often does he deliver?"

"Every week. It depends. The rough roads play havoc with his truck."

"Why did you leave the hangar unlocked?" Diane demanded.

"Nobody steals," he said, dismissing her implied criticism. "I'd waited four days for a lift to Nullabull. My chance came yesterday. The road train unloaded your ute at the haulage yard two weeks ago. Its fat wheels wouldn't fit Billy's trailer. I slept overnight in its cab and drove six hours to bring it here."

Their Ford Ranger Wildtrak utility vehicle was a core piece of kit. Diane adopted a conciliatory tone. "Thanks, Jake. That was thoughtful."

"No worries. Shall I show you your house?"

"Please," Diane said, sweat sticking to her skin despite their fan.

Departing their hangar, Jake scooped up their backpacks. "Your ute is a sweet ride."

Their dusty white Ford Ranger rode high on its substantial black wheels. A double cab with massive load space, it had serious presence. Climbing into the passenger seat, Diane turned as Tamsin clambered in behind. "It feels beefy," she said.

Jake took their flight bags, slinging them alongside their backpacks in the load bay. Under his command, the engine burst alive, blasting chilled air at their black cloth seats, slicing gorgeous relief through their thin uniform pants.

Hard packed red earth disappeared beneath their ute's tires as Jake drove them past single-story weatherboard homes set back from their rising dust cloud. In two minutes, their white carport roof shaded them as they faced their four bedroom family home.

Jake tossed the house keys to Tamsin as he unloaded their bags. She unlocked the sliding glass door. Brown and white checked linoleum declared the home's era. Blue couches offered a view over their bush yard and their large white ute. Three wooden steps led into a horizontal corridor, accessing four bedrooms and two practical bathrooms. Beside the entrance, their kitchen proved fruitful.

Opening cupboards, Jake showed Diane packets of rice, pasta, and milk in the refrigerator. "I got you basics. You can't miss the general store. Mrs. Fraser stocks everything."

Diane said. "Thank you, Jake. Everything feels strange."

"You'll grow used to simplicity," he smiled. "Can you guys drop me home? I'm beat."

"Sure thing," Tamsin said, returning from her bathroom inspection. Seizing the key from him, she skipped to their massive ute.

"It's two minutes," he said. "Everything is two minutes."

Keeping the airfield in sight, she memorized her route, navigating through Limit Creek. Navigating Jake proved harder. Deflecting, he asked questions, giving no clues to Mrs. Jake. On her return run, she recalled his relaxed confidence and bare muscled legs. Defying the cool air flowing through her cabin, her sex ordered further investigation.

Lazy ceiling fans circulated air as she re-entered their lounge.

"Did Jake suggest when he expected to start tomorrow?" Diane asked.

"Six at the hangar." Tamsin dropped their ute key on the unattractive green formica kitchen work surface.

"Perfect," Diane said. Washing their airplane, they would inspect every tiny inch tomorrow. If their Twin Otter malfunctioned, they'd lose two days while the on-call mechanic flew in. She'd spied industrial scales in their hangar. She'd also teach Jake to measure and mark loads for them with accurate weights.

Tamsin claimed the bathroom with a corner shower, her brown and white wall tiles matching their yesteryear house design. Diane gained a bath with a shower overhead. Blue flowers adorned her white tiles, mirrored cupboards doubling as excellent storage space.

Disappearing into her bedroom, Tamsin stripped off her uniform. Peeling off her black lace tanga panties, she used a wooden chair for her laundry pile. Naked, she tested her bed, discharging a long held breath. She had gum trees in her garden, a comfortable bed, a chunky ute, an awesome airplane, and a muscled male to furnish her fantasies.

Her iPhone unlocked in a glance, showing full Wi-Fi signal. Discovering their router behind the couch, she'd logged in. Her finger found her photos. Bare on her bed, her favorite fantasy unfolded on her phone. Diane's private letter pounded her pulse, driving her fingers between her bare thighs. She pictured herself confessing a grievous transgression to Jake. Using Neil to her chagrin the first time, she's matured to cast any guy she fancied in her commanding role.

Six lessons pounded from Jake's imaginary paddle as her finger circled her clit. It was always six. Hard swats slammed into her bared bottom, stinging her to silence as he delivered genuine punishment.

She'd envisioned where Diane might bend. Imagining her friend bent in deep submission over a bed, desk, table and chair, she'd come picturing herself instead. Her finger slicked over her clit as Jake's deep voice ordered her to grab her ankles. Sliding from her bed, she obeyed, abandoning her phone.

Naked, she grabbed her ankles, picturing Jake's muscular hands on a gigantic wooden paddle. Six severe swats slammed into her bare bottom, reverberating through the wooden house in her mind. Rubbing her clit with rising fury, she gripped one ankle, trying to imagine the immeasurable pain. In her mind, it stung like indignant madness, burning her error-prone cheeks with reddening fire. A choice phrase from her friend's letter pulsed with her approaching pleasure - 'It should hurt me'.

Humbled by her powerful pain, she came. Heavy waves of pleasure crumbled her to her gray carpet, furious orgasms flowing from her obedient sex. Punished, her mental lips whispered her favorite phrase. 'I'll obey you without question.'

Taking her tired limbs to her new shower, she tested the temperature. Its pressure gratified her long limbs. Sliding soap over her silky legs, she gave thanks for her loyal friend. Diane had started them on this awesome adventure.

Padding along the main corridor, Diane gravitated to her fellow adventurer, her long brunette tresses damp with glorious cleanliness. Hearing her friend's shower, she perched on her bed. Her navy shorts and pale tee provided pleasant minimalist coverage in the evening heat.

Glancing at her friend's iPhone discarded beside her, she recognized the black granite worktop from their flight school apartment. Drawn closer, she zoomed in, reading her intimate words to Neil. Her gut wrenched, ripping a ruinous hole in her heart.

Wrapped in a soft green towel, Tamsin entered from her bathroom.

Storming to her feet, Diane jammed the iPhone in her friend's face. "What the fuck is this?"

Caught red-handed, Tamsin's face collapsed, the enormity of her duplicity multiplying beyond her calculations. She'd kept intending to delete her scurrilous fantasy photo. "Your letter," she said, searching for any plausible explanation.

"Why is my private letter on your phone?"

"I saw it on our printer. I couldn't help myself..." Wasted on her angry friend, her words drained away.

"Does it thrill you to imagine me getting my butt paddled?"

Tamsin's brain executed at flight decision speed, settling on full disclosure. "I pretend it's me."

"My private letter is none of your fucking business."

"I know." Tamsin hung her head.

"How dare you snap a photo of my secret thoughts, you deceitful bitch? I trusted you," Diane screamed, deleting the photo from her former friend's phone.

Tamsin's tears streamed. Accepting Diane's tirade, truth sliced into her stunning shame. She'd sheared through their friendship, ripping dishonest, treacherous deceit into their foundation with her shameless sexual gratification. The colossal scale of her stupidity was becoming clear by the second.

Flinging the iPhone onto Tamsin's bed, Diane left the room, livid rage flooding off her.