Now she stood on the aft deck looking at the wake of the propellers as they churned up the phosphorescent plankton. The dress fitted her perfectly, clinging to the tightly pronounced curves of her body, her deep cleavage displayed by its plunging neckline, though its knee-length skirt was more modest. With her tanned legs she decided against tights but, for the first time in her life, she wore high heels, though she found them uncomfortable. She had hardly worn shoes at all on the island, let alone these spike-heeled examples, and they were going to take some time to get used to. At the moment she tottered about on them precariously whenever she forgot to take tiny steps. She was determined to get used to them, however. She had noticed how they shaped and firmed the muscles of her calves and buttocks. It was all part of becoming a woman, a perfect adult.
Tim Morrison sat in a steamer chair with his feet up. He watched Corinda intently, hardly able to believe that the elegant, beautiful woman who stood looking over the stern rail was the same urchin he had seen on the island. He didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful female. Her blonde hair cascaded over her tanned shoulders and caught the light as it moved, her face dominated by large blue eyes. It wasn't only her beauty that was appealing but her attitude; she bubbled over with life, unable and unwilling to quell her delight and excitement at what lay ahead of her.
'Would you like another glass of champagne?' he asked, refilling his own from a bottle resting in a bucket of ice on a small table at his side.
'I don't think I should,' she said. 'I'm not really used to it.'
'So what do you want to know about your father?'
'Well, Arabella explained a bit about the legacy. But I don't really understand.' She turned to look at him.
'What did she tell you?'
'She said my father was upset about what had happened to my mother. About what two men had done to her.'
'Yes, that's right. As I said, my own father dealt with him then. But I read the file. There were newspaper cuttings...'
'So what happened?'
'I'm not sure this is the time...'
'Please.'
'Your mother was raped by two men. She put up quite a fight. They hurt her very badly. She died from her injuries. It was a terrible thing. Naturally your father, with all his wealth, wanted to protect you in some way. So he decided to have you sent away to the island with Arabella as a way of guarding you from men for as long as he could. Obviously, once you came of age his wishes no longer had any legal force.'
'Did he think men would want to rape me?'
'I think he was scared of that, yes. Apparently he loved your mother very much. He never got over her death.'
'I see,' Corinda said thoughtfully.
A servant in a white linen jacket appeared from the large glass doors that led into the dining room. 'Excuse me, Mr Morrison. If you are ready, dinner is served.'
'Oh, we're ready. I'm starving. Must be the sea air,' Corinda said with childlike delight.
Tim got to his feet. He took her arm and led her through the doors, matching his own steps to her necessarily diminutive ones. Another waiter stood behind a chair at the round dining table. As she approached he drew it out for her. She giggled.
'Do they always do that?'
'In most restaurants, yes.'
'I've never been to a restaurant.' The waiter pushed the chair back in as Corinda sat down. 'I've got a lot to learn. I know about all this though.' She waved at the array of cutlery, crockery and crystal glasses that formed two place settings on the table. 'Start on the outside and work in, right?'
'Absolutely.'
'God, these shoes are killing me.'
'Take them off, I don't mind.'
'No. I'm going to suffer. The sooner I get used to them the better. Don't you think they make my legs look wonderful?' Corinda leapt to her feet, pirouetted on her toes and wriggled the tight black skirt up over her hips, until her thighs were revealed.
Tim blushed. He could see the crotch of her black panties.
'What's the matter? Don't I look good?'
Tim could see the waiter staring at her too and gestured for him to leave. Reluctantly the waiter sidled out.
'You look marvellous. It's just that...' He couldn't think of what to say.
Corinda pulled her skirt down. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you,' she said, sitting down again.
'You're very uninhibited, that's all. I'm not used to it.'
'There's nothing wrong with that, is there?'
'Well, I suppose being alone with women on the island it's been very different for you. But with men around you're going to have to be a little bit more careful.'
'Careful of what? Is there something wrong with my body? You have to tell me if there is.'
'Not as far as I can see. You're a very beautiful young woman, Corinda. That's the problem really. You see it's not usual to be quite so,' he searched for the right word, 'forward.'
The door from the kitchen opened slowly, and the waiter poked his head around tentatively to see if he was allowed back in. Tim made it clear that he was. 'Let's eat shall we?'
The two waiters served a delicious dinner; freshly caught sea bass, followed by locally bought lamb roasted in wild thyme and garlic.
Tim watched Corinda as she ate. She seemed to approach everything she did with gusto, displaying a hearty appetite for life as well as the food. She asked him questions about London, about where she would live and what she would do. She had taken A-levels on the island and was qualified for university. A place had been arranged for her at Cambridge but she would have three months in London first. Her father's penthouse in Edwardes Square, Kensington, had been redecorated and refurnished for her.
She was excited by the prospect of being able to buy clothes for herself. But that was only one high spot among so many. There was the theatre, the cinema, restaurants and learning to drive. And, of course, men. Wall to wall men, in every possible shape and size. She wondered if they would all be as good-looking as Tim. She remembered the boy in the vineyard and as the waiter served dessert, a miraculous concoction of meringue, whipped cream and ice cream decorated with marron glace, she wondered what Tim would look like stripped to the waist.
'Are the women in London all very beautiful?' she asked.
'Some are,' he replied. He told the waiter they would like coffee served at the table.
'And the men? Are they all as handsome as you?'
Tim laughed. 'You're not supposed to say that.'
'Why not?'
'Because the relationship between a man and a woman is a game. You have to pretend.'
'Pretend what?'
'When you first meet a man you like, it's sort of customary to pretend you don't necessarily find him attractive.'
'And does he do the same?'
'No. He has to tell the woman how lovely he thinks she is.'
'So he can tell me I'm beautiful but I can't tell him that same thing?'
'Yes. At least until you get to know him.'
'That's silly. Why?'
'I suppose it's part of a courtship ritual. Women are supposed to be the hunted and men the hunter.'
'But if I want to have sex with a man shouldn't I say so right from the beginning. I mean, I'd love to have sex with you.'
Tim almost choked on his meringue.
Corinda pushed her plate away. The waiter brought in the coffee, and poured it from a large silver pot into small white cups decorated with a gold rim.
'I don't see what's wrong with that. If you were married it would be different but you're not, are you?'
'No - it's just...' He stopped himself. It occurred to him that what Corinda was saying was true. What was wrong with a woman being as forthright as a man? It was only a matter of social convention.
'I know I'm very naive. I'm bound to be, aren't I? Perhaps I'm not a very good judge because I've seen so few men, but I do think you're very good-looking. God, just saying that makes my nipples go all hard.' Quite unselfconsciously she t
ouched the palm of her right hand against her breasts through the tight black silk.
'You definitely shouldn't do that,' Tim said sternly.
'What?' Corinda wasn't even aware of what she had done.
'Touch yourself like that in front of other people.'
Corinda looked alarmed. 'Really?'
'No. It's regarded as immodest.'
'Oh,' Corinda said, catching on quickly. 'I wouldn't have done it if the waiter was still here. I know that much. But I thought, with just the two of us. There's nothing wrong with that is there?'
Tim was torn between his sense of duty, passed down from father to son in loco parentis, and his feelings as a man. Not surprisingly Corinda was unlike any girl - any woman, since officially that's what she now was - he had ever met. Besides being exceptionally beautiful, she had an openness in her manner and a profound sensuality which attracted him more strongly than anything ever had before. He found he was unable to take his eyes off her.
'Let's go through to the other cabin, shall we? We'll be more comfortable in there,' he said.
Leaving the table he guided her up a short flight of stairs to the spectacular stateroom on the upper deck, its large windows affording panoramic views over the seascape. A circular banquette, upholstered in red silk, was built into the rear bulkhead facing glass doors that opened out on to a small terrace, immediately above the one they had been on earlier. Outside an almost full moon lit the sea with an eerie glow that made the waves look as if they had been burnished with platinum. Huge cumulus clouds scudded across the sky, and were lit dramatically as they passed over the face of the moon.
Tim closed the terrace doors against a freshening breeze. Where an hour before the ocean had been perfectly smooth, it was now distinctly choppy.
'Would you like a brandy?' he asked Corinda, who had sat curled up on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her.
'No. I've had just enough to feel delicious. The wine was stronger than I'm used to on the island.'
'The local wine?'
'Yes. Arabella said it was good for me.'
'It is.'
'But I don't want to get drunk. Not now. Not here. Come and sit next to me.'
He sat down beside her. 'This is difficult for me, Corinda,' he said seriously, unable to stop himself looking at the way the silk skirt had ridden up her thighs.
'Do you know you've got dimples in your cheeks? They get deeper when you smile. Smile for me.'
He did, weakly.
'This right one is bigger.' She touched his cheek with her finger. He had an almost irresistible desire to kiss her. He held himself back.
'I was saying that this is difficult,' he insisted.
'Why difficult?'
'Because for the last year since my father died, I've been your legal guardian.'
'You've got lovely eyes.'
'Be serious.'
'That's serious.'
'I want you to understand what I'm trying to say. You're a gorgeous woman but in some ways I have come to look on you as my daughter.'
'Oh, Mr Morrison, you know I'm not your daughter. I'm eighteen now. I can decide for myself what I want. You said that on the island and the truth is, the absolute truth is, I want to have sex with you.'
She had turned to look directly into his eyes. Hers sparkled with excitement.
'But don't you see, that's only because I'm the first man you've seen.'
'So?'
'So it would be taking advantage of you; taking advantage of my position of trust.'
Corinda got to her feet. There was a glass cocktail cabinet built into the corner of the stateroom; all the bottles and glasses fitted into custom-built housing to stop them rolling around in a heavy sea. Folding down the glass front Corinda took out a teardrop-shaped bottle of Otard XO brandy and poured a large measure into a brandy balloon. She inhaled the strong aroma appreciatively, then handed the glass to Tim.
'Here, it'll help you relax,' she said. Turning her back on him, she reached around to the zip of the dress and pulled it down. She peeled the shoulder straps over her arms and wriggled her hips until the dress fell to the floor. 'Sorry,' she said, 'but it was getting uncomfortable. I'm not used to tight clothes.' She picked up the black silk and folded it neatly over the end of the sofa. 'Oh that feels so much better.' She sat next to him again.
Tim gulped a large mouthful of brandy, then put the glass down on the yew coffee table in front of the banquette. He couldn't help staring at the camber of her breasts, selling up from the lacy black cups of the plunge-cut bra. He couldn't help glancing down to her lap where the thong-cut black panties clung so tightly to the curve of her pubic bone, before disappearing between her legs. He felt his cock beginning to unfurl.
'Anyway, you're not the first man I've seen. There was a boy on the island. I used to watch him working in the vineyards. It was always so hot he used to strip down to his shorts. He looked so strong. I loved the way the sweat ran down his broad back. I could see his spine. I used to watch him for hours.' Corinda stretched back, resting her head against the cushions.
'At night I used to imagine what it would be like if he crept into my room. How I'd peel off his shorts... It always made me so wet.'
'Corinda, you shouldn't...'
She reached up to put a finger to his lips to silence him. 'But last night it wasn't that boy I was thinking about. It was you.' She slid her hand down the front of his shirt, wrapping her fingers around his silk tie. 'Oh, Mr Morrison, you don't know what it feels like. It hurts, it aches like there's a great void inside me.'
'Corinda, I can't...' he picked the brandy glass up and took another gulp. 'It would be a breach of trust.'
'I knew it,' she said brusquely. 'I'm not beautiful at all, am I? I'm probably quite plain. You were just flattering me because of my father.'
'Corinda, you're gorgeous.'
'Well then,' she said decisively. 'Oh damn. Excuse me, but this thing is killing me.' She was used to soft full-cup bras. The underwired cups she was wearing dug into her flesh. As if it were the most natural thing in the world - which of course it was for her - she reached behind her back, unhooked the bra, and threw it aside. Her breasts quivered at their freedom. Her dark red nipples were already erect, standing out like golf tees. 'That's better.'
'I suppose it's no good me telling you you're being immodest again,' Tim said, feeling his cock hardening rapidly. He could not tear his eyes away from the spectacle of her voluptuous bosom.
'Mr Morrison, I thought we'd been through all that. I wouldn't dream of stripping off in front of strangers. But you're not a stranger, are you? You just said, you feel like my father.'
'At this moment I couldn't feel less like your father,' he said. 'That's the trouble.'
'Trouble?'
'Corinda, I don't think you understand men at all. We have certain...' he searched for the right word, 'reactions when we see a beautiful naked woman.'
'Oh God, I know all about that,' she said scornfully. 'I'm not that naive. I've done A-level biology. When a man becomes excited blood flows into his penis. It's called engorgement. His penis becomes tumescent which allows him to insert it into the vagina of a female.'
'Exactly.' Tim was blushing again.
'You see. I know the theory. Then the man thrusts up and down and ejaculates his semen. The semen swims up inside the vagina to meet the ovum. It's quite simple.'
'And very complicated,' Tim added.
'But you're not engorged now, are you?'
'Of course I am. Just look at you.'
'What, just looking at me like this makes it happen?'
'I told you; you're very attractive. You've got beautiful breasts, and those long legs... I think you really should get dressed.'
Corinda ignored him. 'This is great. You mean you've got a hard penis now, just because I took my bra off?'
He looked as though he wanted to say more; that it also involved her long blonde hair, her finely sculpted features, the soft creaminess of her
flesh, the way her body moved and those big blue luminescent eyes. But instead he just said, 'Yes.'
'Can I see it?'
'What?'
'Can I see your penis? I've never seen one, Mr Morrison. I've never even seen a soft one, let alone one that's - what's the right word? Erect?'
'Corinda, that's what I've been trying to explain to you. It wouldn't be right.'
'Not right? It's only a question of curiosity, isn't it?'
'No, it is not. I told you sex is much more complicated. If I undress, if I show you my...' he hesitated to use the word, '...cock, it will make me even more excited. It's not like a biology lesson. I might not be able to control myself.'
Corinda looked puzzled. 'I'm not sure I understand that.'
Tim tried to think of a way to explain. 'When you were talking about the boy you used to watch?'
'Yes.'
'You imagined seeing him naked?'
'Yes.'
'And that excited you, sexually I mean?'
'Yes.'
'So wouldn't you have been even more excited if he'd actually been there? Wouldn't you have wanted to do more than just look?'
'Of course.' Corinda laughed. 'I'd have eaten him alive.'
'Well then, it's exactly the same for me.'
Corinda thought about that for a moment. The clouds outside had thickened considerably, blocking out the moon and there was nothing to see through the windows now but the superstructure of the yacht. Everything beyond was pitch black. The sea was choppier too and, though the boat was fitted with stabilisers, it was beginning to roll slightly from side to side.
'I suppose you're right,' she said gloomily. Suddenly her face lit up again, a new thought having occurred to her. 'But there's nothing to say you have to control yourself, is there? We can have sex. We can do it right now.'
'No,' Tim said firmly. 'I can't Corinda, I thought I'd explained.'
'You said it would be breaking a trust. But that's silly. I'm eighteen now. I can make my own mind up about what I want, can't I? I really think you're handsome. I really want to have sex with you. I really want to do it now.'
'That's not the point.' He was losing the argument with himself. His erection was rock hard and throbbing. Corinda's breasts trembled as she talked so animatedly. He desperately wanted to cup his hands around them and press his fingers into the soft, pliant flesh. 'I'm the first man you've ever met. It's natural you should feel this way about me. But once you've seen other men you'll be able to pick and choose. You only want me because it's convenient.'
The Chaste Legacy Page 3