Summer Pirate

by Rian Monaire

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SUMMER PIRATE

  Copyright ã 2005 by Rian Monaire

  Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books 2005

  Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com

  www.extasybooks.com

  Chapter One

  She thought his kiss had been more sensation than any woman could bear.

  He seemed intent on proving her errant thought wrong, his oh-so-clever hands finding every possible pleasure point.

  His lips moved over her breasts, leaving a wet trail in the soft cleft between them as he cupped them in both hands, pressing them together so that he could taste both of her rosy velvet nipples, circling them with the tip of his tongue. She moaned softly, reaching for his hardness, moving her fingers back and forth to bring a groan from him as well.

  He lifted his head from the promise of her full breasts. His lips left a trail of silken desire down her smooth abdomen, all the way to the tuft of curls hiding her silken folds. He probed between the pinkened nether lips, lapping her rigid, throbbing clit until she writhed in the paroxysms of climax. His chin gleaming with her juices, he slid slowly up her trembling body and fixing her gaze with his, whispered huskily…

  “Mommy, please don’t forget to get online and enter the pirate contest. It’s the last day. They said on TV.”

  Laura jumped, then sighed and called down the hallway, “Feylen, go to sleep. I said I’d take care of it, and I will.”

  Not that she had actually remembered. With her editor constantly bugging her for the short she’d agreed to contribute to the next anthology and all the editing deadlines for the books in process looming over her head, entering her daughter in a contest to float around on a boat filled with failed actors dressed as pirates and arghing all over the place wasn’t even appealing, much less memorable. Not that the chance of actually having to deal with it was there; it was one of those things where you send a postcard or send a note online and get dumped into a massive pool of millions. Worse than the lottery, since she was sure there were ways of loading the entry tally. Some people had nothing better to do than to sit around trying to break the rules. And, darn it, she was trying to bring two people to orgasm, and write it so that people would be willing to pay for the privilege of reading said climax. That did take concentration.

  Best to get that entry in before she forgot again. One episode of coitus interruptus was enough. For a five-year-old, Feylen was one tough customer. Wouldn’t be surprising to find her expecting her mother to produce documentation.

  Ok, the link…there. Onto the site. Lord, the things kids like these days. And people are down on the old cartoons because of violence. At least they were recognizable creatures.

  Where the heck…oh, there. Win a Pirate Cruise. Well, that’s not so bad. Five-day cruise on Carnival, all expenses paid. That had its benefits. Supervised activities for children—parents had free time. Even better. Fey, you’re a genius.

  She clicked on the Enter Now! button and laboriously typed in the information. Jeez, surprising they don’t ask for blood type, or the color of her underpants. And…send. There. Duty to progeny done.

  Silence from the child. Must’ve finally passed out. Excellent. Back to work.

  The short for the anthology was done, but needed a read-thru. Edits were back on the second novel in the Elven series. Wow, thing looked like the second hour of a slasher flick. Let’s go for the unwounded work first.

  She lifted her can of Diet Coke with Lime to her lips, and unsuccessfully took a sip. Dry. Time for a refill. Pushing the keyboard tray back into the desk, she pushed back the black leather desk chair and rose stiffly. Must stop slouching while editing. Going to end up hunchbacked.

  Strolling to the kitchen, she noted a few toys and a fruit snacks wrapper on the floor. Might as well pick that up while I’m taking a break.

  Tossing the toys into a handy box, she picked up the wrapper, crumpling it in her hand. She picked up the box, walking down the hall to Chez Feylen. Yep, kid’s finally out. Setting the box gently just inside the door, she walked back toward the kitchen. What was she getting? Oh, yes, liquid refreshment.

  Might as well get a snack, too. She pulled a Diet Coke from the twelve-pack and stared at the refrigerator’s contents, only then noticing she still held the fruit snacks wrapper. She turned slightly, tossing it into the trash bin.

  Then she tilted her head back, closing her eyes. Procrastinating again. Making a simple Coke run into a party. She had a tendency to do that when it came time to write the hot scenes. Had to admit, they did bring back memories of a much more interesting phase of her life.

  Get your fat ass back in that chair, slacker. She snagged an apple and slammed the fridge door shut with authority.

  Back to unreality.

  * * * *

  Morning.

  Hate morning. Hate it very much.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

  The child is calling. I am committed to that child’s care. Snort.

  “All right, I’m up,” Laura yawned. Need to start sleeping sometime. I’ll end up with huge bags under my eyes to go with my hunchback.

  Feylen bounded in, bouncing on the bed in her usual exuberant fashion. Anyone else that happy this early would be obliterated. “Did you enter the contest, Mommy? Did you? You promised. Remember, Did you?”

  “Of course I did, sweetie. Settle down. I just want you to understand that it’s very hard to win. Just entering the contest doesn’t mean you’ll go on the trip.”

  Fey gave her the standard ‘My mother is an idiot’ look that Laura had hoped to avoid until her puberty. “Of course, Mommy.”

  “Good, now quit bouncing before Mommy is ill.”

  Fey seemed amused by the prospect, leaping off the bed immediately and confiding to the dingy rabbit tucked in her arm that “Mommy’s gonna barf.”

  Laura stretched, listening to the usual Bone and Tendon Symphony. Lord, I’m only thirty-three, how could I have gotten so old. Creaky bones to go with the hunchback and bags. Keep this up, I’ll be able to give a negative aspect to every part of my body.

  Best not to even think about the thighs.

  She crawled out of bed with the standard groan and padded to the kitchen in her sweats and T-shirt. Sexy, no, but comfortable. For the first time in a long time, she pondered whether that was a good thing or not.

  Fey had been her only roommate since her conception, a reminder of her so-called wild club days. She had met someone, and hit it off. Had a few good dates, hooked up a few times.

  Her period had been late, and she’d raced to the drugstore. When she phoned him with the news, he had said all the right things… No problem, I love you, everything will be fine. Then he’d fallen off the face of the earth. She had only learned of his whereabouts after it was too late. When Fey was two, she had gotten a clipping in the mail from one of the services who were after him for ducking child suppor
t. Dead. Shot during a drug deal gone bad. So maybe it had been for the best. God does work in mysterious ways. She had explained it to Fey only recently, merely telling her Daddy had been sick. Close enough.

  Money had been tight for a long time. Laura had only a high school diploma, no car, no license. She worked as a waitress, taking classes at a local college when she could. Then a clerical job.

  A friend turned her on to e-books, hoping that Laura’d enjoy erotica as much as she did, or as she put it, “Make your do-it-yourselfers a bit more entertaining”. Instead of reading them, she mused that they might be fun to write. There was a buzz that you could make a few bucks, and she could do it with the kid around. And Lord knew she had a fertile imagination. Celibacy was good for that, anyway.

  She had entered a few writing contests, submitted to a couple of publishers, and off she went. Her sales had been slow at first, but once she got the hang of actually promoting, things picked up. She was now doing quite well, only having to work part time to keep things safe. Her hopes were to someday be able to quit the day job completely.

  She smiled at the sight of Fey, silky ash blonde hair rumpled, clad in bright red sweats that bore the legend ‘Drama Diva’. “So, midget, what do you want for breakfast?”

  “Can I have leftover spaghetti?”

  Horrors. Her stomach folded at the mere thought. “Why on earth would you want spaghetti for breakfast?”

  “I like spaghetti.” Fey patted her rabbit, who was sprawled across the table.

  “Spaghetti is not breakfast food. Try again.”

  “But I want spaghetti…” Uh oh, whine warning approaching.

  “Let me clarify this. Either you can pick a breakfast food and cheerfully eat it with no further discussion, or you can lose your TV time for this week.”

  Fey subsided. “I want Cheerios, please.”

  “That’s what I thought you said.” Laura reached for the cereal.

  * * * *

  Finally in the car. It was amazing how a five-year-old could make something as simple as putting on a coat so time-consuming. Kid dropped off at kindergarten, then off to the day job, fueled once again by coffee instead of sleep. Cell phone on. Ok, what did she forget?

  Lunch. Oh, well. Could stand to miss a few meals anyway. Especially with the conventions coming up. Maybe she’d…hey, turn signals are a great new invention, heard of ‘em?

  Someone in her usual parking space. Figures. She drove around the lot twice before she found one. So much for employee parking only. Ah, I so love going to work. She pulled down her visor, glancing in the small mirror on the back. Hideous. Ash blonde hair that matched her daughter’s, only hers was staticky and flyaway. Definite dark circles under hazy-looking blue eyes. At least she hadn’t gotten to the scaring small children level yet, since Fey had seemed unfazed. She pulled the outside door open, fumbling with her coffee cup, keys, and bag. Her best friend and erotica pimp, Letitia Lee or Lala, as she preferred, pushed her to the left, into the bathroom.

  “You’re late.” Lala started, tugging her coat off.

  “I know, and you’re making me later. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Saving your ass, woman. I told Little Dick you were in the bathroom, and you’d been here for a while. Take your coat off… I’ll stuff it in my locker when I get back. You can get it then. I’ll just wear it out for now, since I gotta make a stamp run. Give me your purse, too.”

  The infamous Little Dick. Richard Poco was his real name, but didn’t suit him as well. Tyrannical bastard who loved to write people up.

  “Is all of this necessary?” Laura asked warily.

  “Sine you weren’t here, you don’t know. He said any more lateness by anyone would result in termination. Apparently he has some sister or someone who needs a job.” Lala tugged on Laura’s coat.

  “You look ridiculous. You’re about half my size.” Laura handed her the bag, stuffing her car keys into it, the handle of her coffee cup hooked over two fingers.

  “One thing I do not credit Little Dick with is fashion sense, dearie.” Lala saluted. “Now get your ass to your desk. I already got your comp on and a letter started.”

  “God, you saved my butt. Thanks so much.” She hugged Lala, coat and all.

  “Oh, I don’t care about you, it’s the cute kid I did it for.” A grin took any possible sting out of her words. “Now move!”

  * * * *

  Laura got through the day without further incident, despite the unwavering eye of Little Dick, who apparently didn’t have anything pressing to do. Driving home was the usual mix of singing along with the radio and muttered curses about the inability for people to recall the safe driving handbook tips.

  Ah, home. Two-fifteen p.m. An hour to work before Miss Thang gets home. Better check the messages first.

  Telemarketer. Telemarketer. Mom.

  What’s this now?

  “Hello, my name is Joel Hammond. This message is for Miss Feylen and Miss Laura Stanek. I am pleased to announce that you have been chosen as the winners of the CSEC Treasure Hunt contest! You and one other guest will be taken on a Carnival cruise, location to be disclosed, all expenses paid. You will receive plane tickets and more information via Fed Ex, as well as a check for one thousand dollars. If you’re working, the trip will commence in two weeks, so I suggest you request any vacation time as soon as possible. Congratulations, and I look forward to our meeting.”

  No way. It’s a prank. Didn’t they say the contest only ended last night? How could they pick someone so quickly?

  Laura thought about it. Best not to tell Faylen until she actually had something tangible. Just in case. It would be just like some people to think breaking a kid’s heart would be an amusing diversion. Time to get back to work. Guess reading email will be the next step.

  There it was. A confirmation email, saying essentially what was left on her machine. Well, she would just wait until she had the tickets in hand.

  Laura began working through her usual numerous emails, her mind racing. Could it really be? Going on a cruise? For free? Wow. And pirates. A ship full of guys in eye-patches and tight pants. Then again, there was the other type of pirate…beer bellies and slicked-back hair. The type more likely to be found on a family cruise ship.

  Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered Faylen’s carpool pulling up, and had to dash out to meet her. It was worth it, though, since she received her usual flying tackle of a hug.

  “Mommy, did you see it? On TV, did you see?”

  Duh. TV. Of course…it would be all over the channel. Just to be sure… “See what, honey?”

  “We won, Mommy, we won! The Pirate game! We won!”

  She set Fey down and they started walking toward the house. “Why were you watching TV in school?”

  “Mrs. Temple saw it and called Mrs. Townsend, my teacher, and told her. So Mrs. Temple said just this once, we could take a look. She had to leave it on for a long time, and she started to get mad, but then they talked about the pirate ship. And they said our names!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Mommy, when can we go? Can I take Bunny? Can I take my swimsuit? Can I take…”

  Laura tugged open the front door. “One thing at a time, honey. We’ll need to get things set up first. Mommy has to get time off work, and we’ll have to get someone to watch the place. Calm down, baby.”

  Fey settled into her tiny rocking chair and requested cookies. There was then a heated discussion concerning nutrition and good health, and a compromise reached instead for apple slices and peanut butter, and Laura moved to the kitchen to fix it. Her mind traveled in several directions at once. She’d need to ask for an extension on the edits for Mystic Portals Lost. Put in her vacation request. Little Dick would either give her attitude or use it against her, so it was a lose/lose situation. So, who gave a crap? She deserved this. Definitely had to ask Lala to go. Probably get her in deeper with Dick, but again, she didn’t care. If the jerk fired her, so be it. She ha
d some savings, and could always find another job. She finished peeling a Granny Smith and reached for a knife.

  The email had gone further, noting that portions of the cruise would be televised. That was a bit of a wrinkle. Better make sure she didn’t pick her nose…or her underpants, even. A crash diet wouldn’t be a bad move either. Atkins, maybe? She’d heard you could lose ten pounds in two weeks that way, easy.

  And why did it matter? Mothers were supposed to have a wide bottom. All the commercials said so. And really bad haircuts. She pushed at her own shapeless hair. Shoulder-length and boring. That she could do something about. Have to make an appointment.

  “Oh, Motherrr… I’m very hungry over here…”

  Laura pulled herself out of her thoughts abruptly, almost cutting off her finger instead of slicing the apple. “Yes, your majesty, coming right up” She slid the slices onto a Crazy Critter plate and scooped a spoonful of peanut butter beside them. As Laura handed them to Fey, the little girl piped up, “Momma, are we really going tomorrow?”

  Laura laughed. “No, honey, it looks like in two weeks.”

  Fey frowned, then picked up an apple slice, dabbed it into the peanut butter and began to nibble. “Too long, Momma.”

  Not long enough, thought Laura.

  Chapter Two

  Laura gladly handed her carry-on to the smiling gentleman. This had been a long trip so far. The entire flight had been filled with Fey’s incessant, “Are we there? Are we almost there? Can we swim when we’re there? Can I play games? Can I have ice cream when we get there?” On and on and on. And Lala was almost as bad. Thinking aloud of good-looking men in pirate costumes, sunbathing, pedicures…

  But there they were, entering the ship, and neither of them had been gagged. Tribute to her patience. Or masochism. She had endured by busying herself with the pamphlets about the cruise.

  The ship was aptly named ‘Holiday’, and she had been amazed at what it contained; swimming pools, stores, restaurants, a gym, you name it. Even a casino. Definitely no reason for boredom. And a Children’s Playroom, with child-minders. Perfect.