When I recovered he had his finger deep in my bottom; it felt strange and pleasurable and wicked. I didn’t mind when he slid his cock into me there. He said I was wonderfully tight and I told him Charlie had never taken me that way, he would have thought it was outrageous. This seemed to excite him and he pressed deeply into me. I almost fainted. He was groaning loudly. I looked up and noticed for the first time that he has a mirror behind his bed: I watched my flushed, sweating face and bobbing breasts and the Captain’s determined look as he pumped away behind me.
It seemed to go on forever and I never wanted him to stop. I liked the feeling of him riding me the way a stallion rides a mare. I loved the sensation of his hips slapping and grinding against my padded bottom as he thrust deep inside me. I thought, if only Charlie could have broken me in like this! Our marriage could have been so happy if he’d allowed me to be wild. The Captain reached underneath and rubbed me in a tender spot and I went mad with pleasure again, and he grunted and came.
Afterward he looked at his watch and swore, and I promised I would come to him tomorrow. I lurched like an idiot to Claire’s cabin, and she opened the door and pulled me inside, exclaiming at my radiant face.
I was very uninhibited with her this time. She licked the Captain’s sperm from my thighs and cunt, and I rambled on about how he had made love to me. Suddenly I saw her strapping on a big black dildo. I had vaguely known such gadgets existed, but certainly had no idea who used them or for what, and definitely not how they felt! Claire said that she was sure the Captain had made me sore, but she was going to make me more so. It was absolutely thrilling to feel her breasts pressing against mine, her mouth locked against mine, while she fucked me. She spent a long time at it, and I cried as she rocked inside me. Weeping, I said her name again and again.
She stroked my hair afterwards. I mustn’t be ashamed, she said, to receive pleasure. Our warm bodies lay wrapped together. “I’m afraid of becoming a sex maniac,” I said suddenly. We laughed at that. “Don’t worry,” she told me, “it’s just that you’re new to it and of course you enjoy it. Just let yourself feel the sensations.”
I do — but as I lie here writing this, I wonder what else I can possibly experience, and whether at the end of all this I will feel terribly alone. What if Claire doesn’t want to see me anymore when we reach England?
I feel as if I barely know her. And yet I want to. I do want to.
Thursday
It’s morning. I’m exhausted. It feels like my body has been used well. I slept with both of them again yesterday. It was less dramatic than the day before — just lovely, delicious fucking. No ambivalence on my part whatsoever. I was eager. It feels necessary to me now — that’s the scary thing.
What must they think of me? I said yes right away. Would it have been better to have a prolonged seduction? I don’t know. But I couldn’t have held out.
I feel, on reflection, a little bit hurt that they’ve discussed me. I suspect it arouses each of them to think of the other fucking me. It must be a competitive thing. I don’t really understand it, yet Claire, at least, seems very sincere. I could lie here and obsess about them using me, but I don’t want to see it that way.
What I do know is that I feel very differently towards each of them. With the Captain, it’s almost impersonal — I’m just a pretty young blonde to him, someone he likes, perhaps, but my appeal is mostly physical. With Claire, it’s tender and loving, and each time we’re together I feel closer to her. I think I may be falling in love with her.
If that’s so, then it’s awful to still keep seeing the Captain. And I suppose I should be scandalized at being lovers with a woman. But, though it’s completely new to me, it’s familiar as well. It feels right.
I feel so happy and I can’t analyze it much more than this. I never thought I could be this impulsive. I know I’ll never regret this. Oops, there’s a knock at the door. I’ll write again later.
11 p.m.
What a day! I feel a little overwrought, so I am smoking a cigarette to calm my nerves.
Claire came to collect me this morning. She said we were going swimming. I took my bathing suit and followed her to a big rectangular building. It was 10 a.m. and we were the only ones there. I admired the beautiful mosaic tiles and looked at the warm blue water and I had the strange feeling that this was all a dream.
In the little private dressing room she pulled off her clothes to reveal her bathing suit already on. She is so slim and elegant. I felt awkward undressing in front of her in the daylight; it’s silly when you think of what we’ve done. She watched me with this very intent look, and when I was finished she put her arms on mine and kissed me. We stood there swaying together and I whispered to her how sore I was. She laughed and said she could be more careful today, or we didn’t even have to do it if I didn’t want to.
I told her I did want to, that I want to all the time. She held me very tight and I felt almost light-headed with desire.
Then I blurted out that I loved her. She looked at me with such shock. I was surprised.
“Oh Betsy, you don’t mean it.”
“I mean it, Claire. Of course I mean it!”
“Let’s swim,” she said, her face all flushed and her mouth trembling. So we did. She is a graceful swimmer and I lay on my back and kicked my feet and floated dreamily down the length of the pool. It was dim, but the sunlight shone into the room in a few places. I imagined us making love by the side of the pool, our fevered kisses. No one can kiss me like she does. The Captain barely bothers — perhaps it isn’t “manly,” or something.
Claire was in the deep end, holding onto the side of the pool. I straightened up and we smiled at each other. She glanced around, then leaned over and kissed me deeply, lovingly. Under the water she caressed my thighs, my hard nipples — but she did not penetrate me.
“Claire, don’t tease,” I gasped. When she didn’t respond, I asked if we could go back to her cabin.
We didn’t speak very much on the way to the cabin. For some reason, I felt this was some kind of test. When we finally had privacy, I buried myself in her arms. We lay down on the bed, our hair all wet, our skin tingling. I kissed her ravenously, then sucked on her breasts the way she sucked mine. As she didn’t make a move, I ran my tongue down her body and tasted her for the first time. I licked her as she has licked me, and it seemed to work, because soon I felt her hands clutching my hair. I found that once past my first curiosity, I enjoyed pleasing her, knowing that I could. I slid a finger into her tight wetness, and she exploded, bucking against me. Afterwards, I looked down at her intently, but she avoided looking at me. Finally she met my eyes and stroked my face.
“I don’t usually let a girl do that,” she said.
“Why not? It’s not good to go too long without climaxing.”
“Oh, now you’re giving me sex advice!”
I giggled, and then she told me that she often climaxes while satisfying a woman. Using the dildo on me yesterday she’d watched my face, and the intensity of my pleasure had made her come several times.
We kissed, and I told her that I was hers. She smiled and looked at me with those bright blue eyes, so different from my soft brown ones.
“I love you too, you know,” she said, searching for words, “but I don’t think I’d be enough for you. I can’t ask you to settle down with me.”
“Yes you can!” I blurted, and we kissed again. She told me that she was going to work as a potter for a few months on the estate of a country house in the North of England. “Rather far from London,” she added, “so if you came with me you’d probably feel marooned. We’d live in a little cottage,” she continued, “and it wouldn’t be glamorous. There’d be a lot of time on your hands. I can’t see why you’d want to go.”
I started to laugh hysterically, because this leap into the unknown with her is something that sounds incredibly good to me, far better than staying with my stuffy relatives in London and being paraded around as the silly little American w
idow at parties.
So it is almost decided. I told her I had never felt closer to anyone in my life, and she confessed that she had felt closer to only one other person: her older brother who died in the terrible 1918 flu epidemic. After that, she’d pretty much abandoned her wealthy family. She’d gone to London to study at art school and embraced the bohemian life. She described the free love, the wild parties, the alcohol, the drugs.
“You’ve had so many lovers,” I said in wonder.
“But only a few meant anything,” she replied, stretching and yawning like a cat.
I do love Claire. I love her very much. And that’s why I’m a little ashamed of what I did later this afternoon.
I told her I was going to say goodbye to the Captain, that I wouldn’t visit him again after that. She smiled in a curious way. “I won’t sleep with him,” I told her. She shrugged and said, “It’s really up to you.”
I honestly didn’t mean to sleep with him. It was so odd. He looked gloomy when I came in, sitting in his armchair smoking a pipe.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Yes, I know. I’ve really come to say goodbye.” I wanted to blurt it out fast so that he would understand that I meant it.
“Oh, I see,” he replied, his voice heavy with sadness. I sat down next to him and he began talking about how he had thought about asking me to become his mistress — he could set me up in a little pied-à-terre in central London and visit me for a week each month. But, he went on, I was too good for that; I wasn’t motivated by money as some women are. He saw that I needed love and affection and that he really didn’t have enough time to offer me. So he’d concluded that it was probably best that we stop before either of us became too attached. And now here I was, anyway, saying I didn’t want to go on. So it was perfect timing.
I felt a strange rush of feeling for him; he looked lonely in his armchair. I realize that’s what he is — a lonely bachelor. He looked at me and said, “I’ve enjoyed you so much, Betsy. I only feel alive when I’m in a woman’s arms, you know.” Then he apologized, said he’d had a few drinks too many.
I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Somehow I ended up snuggling in his lap and some time later I found myself straddling his erect cock. He buried his face in my breasts and I rocked myself into a frenzy. I was so wet I could barely feel him. He bit my nipples and I screamed. Some demon seemed to take hold of me — perhaps because Claire had not made love to me earlier and I needed his cock inside me desperately. I felt like I was taking him, moving aggressively against him and whispering coarse words in his ear. He grabbed my bottom, kneading my two fleshy globes, still tender from the past few days’ activities. We both groaned in ecstasy. He shot deep into me and I stared down at him, knowing it would be the last time. Really knowing it. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Instinct.
“You’re wild,” he said to me afterwards as I buttoned my blouse rather shakily. “You won’t stay faithful to Claire for long.”
“Yes I will,” I told him.
“I’ll expect you back on this ship in a few months. You’ll probably have picked up an English husband.”
“No, I’m going to live with Claire, and I don’t expect to marry ever again.”
“A woman could never satisfy you permanently. I’ve never met anyone with a stronger sex drive.”
I just laughed at him.
“Goodbye, Captain,” I said.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Parker,” he muttered from his armchair. He looked wistful. “I do wish you well,” he said reluctantly.
I’ll take that for what it’s worth.
After dinner Claire and I walked out on deck to look at the stars. All around us couples stood by the rail talking quietly, or moving into the shadows to embrace.
I told her what the Captain had said about me not being faithful to her. “You trust me, don’t you, Claire?” I asked her.
“I trust you to be exactly who you are,” she said, smiling.
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means that life is unpredictable, but we seem to have something to give each other.”
“I slept with the Captain,” I said miserably. I wanted her to say something to make it seem all right.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, staring off into the waves. “I knew you would, actually.”
“I tried to be good,” I whispered. “But I did tell him goodbye.”
“At least that’s settled,” she said. She really did look glad. We moved out of the light and she took my hands in hers, holding them tightly.
I’ve made my choice. I know it’s the right one — but the thing I fear most is hurting Claire after all she’s done for me. Why does one person always have to get hurt?
I’m going to turn off the light now and crawl into bed. We reach England in a few days. A new life opens up for me there.
End
The Captain and Claire Page 2