by Kira Stone
Rookery Cove: Breakwater
Kira Stone
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 Kira Stone
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ISBN (10) 1-59596-505-X
ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-505-9
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Editor: Connie Alberts
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Dedication
To Mardi Ballou, Stephanie Burke, Emma Ray Garrett and Eve Vaughn for contributing to Rookery Cove Aphrodisiacs. It was a pleasure working with all of you.
Inter-Office Communication I
To: John Stubbs, Operations Manager, RC Aphrodisiacs Home Office
From: Baen, Manager, Fishery Division
Date: August 1, 2006, 10:01 AM
Subject: Habitat Contamination
It saddens me to inform you of a serious situation occurring in my department. I’ve found evidence of toxic contamination, and fish egg harvesting is down by 34%. I’m at a loss to account for this disastrous environmental problem. Please advise.
* * *
To: Baen, Manager, Fishery Division
From: John Stubbs, Operations Manager, RC Aphrodisiacs Home Office
CC: Airk, Environmental Engineer
Date: August 1, 2006, 10:21 AM
Subject: Re: Habitat Contamination
Discuss contamination with Airk and get back to me with his assessment.
* * *
To: John Stubbs, Operations Manager, RC Aphrodisiacs Home Office
From: Airk, Environmental Engineer
CC: Baen, Manager, Fishery Division
Date: August 2, 2006, 10:29 AM
Subject: Re: Habitat Contamination
As I previously told Baen, the problem appears to originate inside his territory and is spreading inland. I’ve asked for permission to conduct inspections within the affected area but have been denied access. I can only assume that the problem comes from his domain as I’ve not been able to locate another potential source. Consequently, Baen received a formal written request to submit a clean-up proposal by August 5, 2006, or face disciplinary action. A copy of that letter is in the next post to the Home Office.
* * *
To: John Stubbs, Operations Manager, RC Aphrodisiacs Home Office
From: Baen, Manager, Fishery Division
Date: August 2, 2006, 10:37 AM
Subject: Re: Habitat Contamination
Airk’s last email should prove to you how useless it is to try to talk to that birdbrain. He wouldn’t know toxic contamination if it came from his own arse. He’s convinced the problem is mine and won’t consider the possibility that his precious wildlife rehab center is to blame. Of course, he set up the refuge on private land so it’s not subject to RC Aphrodisiacs’ environmental regulations. In the mean time, production rates continue to fall. Please advise.
* * *
To: Baen, Manager, Fishery Division; Airk, Environmental Engineer
From: John Stubbs, Operations Manager, RC Aphrodisiacs Home Office
Date: August 3, 2006, 1:52 PM
Subject: Re: Habitat Contamination
It would appear that an objective observer is needed here. Gavin McNye, a wetlands specialist, has been contracted to address this issue. He’ll arrive on Rookery Cove Island no later than August 15th. I expect both of you to give him your full cooperation. He’ll report to me daily about his progress. The Home Office wants this matter resolved in short order.
P.S. -- G.M. is human. Our confidentiality clause will prevent him from disclosing company secrets to unauthorized personnel, but do try not to blow his mind. Our corporate fees for taking care of the mentally maladjusted are becoming obscene.
Chapter 1 -- Arousing Curiosity
Rookery Cove Island, August 15, 2006, daybreak
Dew cast a wet blanket over Gavin McNye’s campsite on the coast of Rookery Cove Island. Climbing out of his small tent, his first priority was to find a place to relieve himself. Brambles snatched at his bare legs as he navigated through the low scrub. He zipped up the windbreaker jacket he wore in lieu of a shirt to keep the bitter north wind from stealing his body heat. Still, he shivered. For summer, it was damn cold.
He’d been given permission to camp on Rookery Cove Aphrodisiacs’ land where it butted against the small private sector at the northern tip. It afforded him the quiet mornings he loved without losing touch with the environmental problem he was here to investigate. However, camping meant he had to take a long hike to reach modern conveniences, such as a restroom, or deal with what he could find nearby.
A small thicket of pine trees served as nature’s bathroom. Gavin then returned to camp to start coffee brewing on the two-burner Coleman stove he’d set up under a blue tarp the previous day. Being so near the ocean, literally a stone’s throw away, everything would soon be caked with a sheen of salt, including him. That suited him just fine. Far preferable to waking up with sand in every orifice, or spiders.
At least the salt didn’t bite.
He’d have to be careful with his laptop and scientific equipment though. Again, that just came with the territory.
This time, his territory happened to be the breakwater and surrounding environs owned by a highly successful adult toy and aphrodisiac company. Off the coast of Nova Scotia, Rookery Cove Island looked much the same as its larger neighbor. Lots of rocky coastline, pine trees, and wildlife. Wild blueberries dripped from big, healthy plants scattered over the low hills. Raspberries too, if you could get to them before the gulls and other island birds did.
Gavin poured himself a mug of black coffee, taking it straight since that was easier than hauling extra sugar and powdered cream to the remote places he often traveled. He carried it down to the shore where a heavy morning mist rose from the water. He sipped the bitter liquid as he thought back to what he’d learned about Rookery Cove Aphrodisiacs yesterday.
Gavin knew of several successful companies who were panicked about the possibility of corporate espionage, but RC Aphrodisiacs seemed to take paranoia to a whole new level. First of all, they were better guarded than a virgin at a nymphomaniac rally. Not only did he have to surrender his GPS unit so he couldn’t dial in on the exact coordinates of the island, they’d made him stay below deck for the trip out on the company owned supply boat. He was pretty sure they’d driven around in circles before reaching their destination to distort his sense of how much time the trip actually took.
Things only got stranger once he’d arrived on this large hunk of rock. As an outsider, he expected to be greeted with some suspicion. He was there to look for the source of their trouble, and there was at least one person on the island who wouldn’t want him to find it. That didn’t account for the way he felt as though he were being watched by a thousand hidden eyes. He’d been warned by John S
tubbs, the company’s operations manager on the mainland, to expect circumstances that defied explanation. He thought John had been referring to secret ingredients for their exclusive products, or some weird production process.
Now Gavin was convinced he’d meant the employees. There was nothing he could put his finger on yet. Just a sense that something was off, and not only in the water surrounding Rookery Cove.
He took another sip of liquid caffeine, and watched the fog eddy and curl over the rocks dividing the breakwater from the more tumultuous ocean current. It almost seemed to defy nature, struggling to forge its own path in the cold morning air. Any number of natural phenomena could account for that, but his brain wasn’t yet wired enough to wrestle with the possibilities. He’d check it out later.
Right now there was another part of his body that needed a physical release. His morning woody wouldn’t stand down. In truth, he’d been horny ever since he stepped on the island, not surprising after the night he’d spent reviewing the aphrodisiacs and other adult products they offered on their website. So now, before he met the two managers whose flurry of emails to the Home Office prompted his involvement, he’d shower Mother Nature with a token of his esteem…
Riiiiiight.
What he really wanted was to get off with a friend or two. Unfortunately, that opportunity came along less often than a blue moon when his job kept him on the back end of civilization. The male creatures he’d met there weren’t exactly his type. At least, not of the species he was willing to swap spit with. Rookery Cove was shaping up to be the same kind of place… remote, friendless and lonely.
So, unless a compatible mate fell out of the sky or washed up on the rocky shore, a quick wank would have to do. Again.
Gavin finished off the last gulp from his mug and set it on the rocky outcropping he’d climbed over to reach the water’s edge, leaving the safety of the calm breakwater behind him to stand in front of the untamed ocean waves. He found a comfortable niche in which to rest his back and spread his legs wide. The water lapped at his feet. His hiking boots would get a little damp, but that was bound to happen anyway.
His fingers slipped the button at the top of his shorts. The zipper followed slowly, as if he were performing a striptease for whoever might be behind those hidden eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere. He let go of the tab halfway down, stroked the dart of red hair that bisected his belly, and could almost imagine a lover’s groan of impatience.
“Want this, do you?” Gavin said out loud as his hand continued under the zipper to stroke his still-restrained cock.
Yes, a whisper of wind carried back to his ears.
Mind games, he concluded. Another way of playing with himself. It hurt no one, so why not dress up his fantasy a little? Being on an island that created products designed to enhance one’s sexual experience practically cried out for something different. Something a little more… imaginative than a hard, fast solo ride.
The thin jacket he wore hung open. He pushed the sides back to reveal his nipple ring. Only on the left. It’d hurt so damn bad that he hadn’t been able to stand getting the other one done that day, and then he’d moved on to a new patch of swamp. So now he was left half and half. Fitting, as so many things about him were polar opposites. Perhaps he’d convince a boyfriend to split a matched pair. Some day. Until then, he had one of his very own to play with.
He twisted it between his fingers. The pleasure/pain sent a jolt of lust to his cock. The crown of his shaft now peeked out above the half-lowered zipper. It throbbed in time with his beating heart, breaking out of its cloth prison on its own.
Sexy, the wind whispered to him. Or was it coming from the waves? Gavin didn’t much care either way. It made him feel natural, wild, uninhibited. And for some reason, he wasn’t disturbed by the thought that someone might be watching him.
Spray whipped up by the wind lashed against his exposed skin, like a lover’s playful slap. It provided enough wetness to make his strokes an easy glide. Long, gentle caresses with a little twist of his fingers at the end to rub the ultra-sensitive head. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”
The screeching of a gull momentarily startled him into opening his eyes. Some winged avian, something large and gray, soared in circles high above him. Later he’d get his binoculars and find out what could possibly be that big, living out here. Now he had more urgent matters to attend to…
Just as his lids started to slowly close, returning him to his inner erotic vision, a particularly large wave came rolling into view. He tried to reclaim his previous groove, but something about the water’s behavior nagged at him. Another glance told him he was right to be nervous. The oversized wave was now racing toward him. In several seconds the mini-tsunami would crush him against the rocks, grinding him into shark bait.
Gavin braced himself to take the massive hit, curving his body and placing his hands over his crotch to shield his dangly bits as much as he could from the water’s knockout punch. When his body failed to be pulverized, he cautiously peeled open one eye. The second soon followed. Then he outright gaped.
A column of water, about six feet high and perhaps a third as wide stood -- actually stood -- before him. From somewhere near the region where a mouth would be on a human, sound issued forth in an upbeat, somewhat gargled fashion. “Want help with that?”
Gavin had seen some weird shit in his professional life, but he’d never seen water talk. Or stop as though it’d been caught at a red light, for that matter. “Errrr… no, I’m finished. Thanks.”
The way he had to manhandle his steel erection to get it back into his pants belied his claim. He was going to be horny all day now. And why? Because he was tripping. Perhaps bad mushrooms he’d harvested before hopping on the plane to Halifax, or something that the curious crew on the company boat fed him to further confuse his assessment of where he was or how he’d gotten here. Didn’t matter what caused this trip to fantasy land, but Gavin had no doubt he’d been drugged. Water just didn’t rise up like Lazarus and start a conversation.
“You sure?” Water streamed down the column, like rapidly melting ice. “I’ve been asked to help you in every way I can.”
“No, I’m good. Thanks. Just going to head back to my tent now and take a nap.” Maybe then whatever drug that was responsible for this hallucination would leave his system faster.
The figure shed more water. Head and shoulders appeared. The body, if it could be called that, was almost translucent. Through the faintly blue outline defining the imaginary creature’s shape, Gavin could see other waves rolling in, but none as big -- or as stationary -- as the one in front of him.
“Your offer wasn’t meant for me?” He sounded disappointed.
At least Gavin assumed it was a he. It was kinda hard to tell under all that water. “Sorry, no. I didn’t even realize you were out there.”
No doubt the lust in his system was having an impact on his hallucinations. He desired a sex partner, so his chemically enhanced libido had provided one. Too bad the guy was no more real than any of Gavin’s other fantasy fuck material.
“Then why did you come to this part of the shore?” the semi-blue, semi-transparent man asked.
Gavin shrugged as he struggled to zip up his jacket. The spray from where the well-behaved waves struck the rocky shore made the simple task more difficult. “I like the ocean.”
The water creature tilted his head, a puzzled expression on his totally bald head. “Are all humans so… strange?”
The bird Gavin had noticed earlier now circled directly above them. It appeared to be doing a kind of aerial pole dance with a column of rising fog. With impeccable timing, it screeched again, almost as if it were trying to answer the question.
“Listen to him, as if he’d know.” The water man -- for now Gavin could see the outline of a very masculine set of shoulders -- peered up into the sky. The black and gray avian circled lower.
“Are you talking to that bird?”
“He has the hearing o
f a cat and the eyesight of a hawk, that one does,” his watery visitor said with grudging admiration. “But we’re not on friendly terms, if that’s what you mean.”
Gavin wasn’t sure what he’d meant, if anything. It was all too surreal to be believed. Deciding to go with the flow for now, since it seemed he had little choice, he relaxed against the rock at his back and chose to answer the only question he could. “Humans are a strange lot, yes. Some may tell you I’m stranger than most.”
The bluish face that was slowly gaining solidity broke into a smile. “Then you should fit in just fine around here.”
The bird was enormous, Gavin noted as it spiraled closer. He imagined he could make out the face of a man and a pair of arms folded over a heavily muscled chest instead of the typical bird contours. His mind was on some seriously weird shit.
Turning back to Mr. Water, who was now thoroughly male, at least to his waist, Gavin asked, “So, why did you think I’d come to the shore to meet you?”
“John said you would.”
“John? You mean John Stubbs, Operations Manager for Rookery Cove Aphrodisiacs?”
“That would be the one,” the watery creature happily agreed.
Gavin mulled that over a bit. “I did tell John I’d be ready to start this morning. He said he’d arrange for me to meet RC’s environmental guy and the manager in charge of the fisheries.”
“There you go. I’m in charge of the fish.”
The bird overhead let out another heart-breaking cry. Gavin found he could now make out features, like breathtakingly beautiful eyes the same shade of gray as the soft under-feathers of his wings. A tool belt made of leather spanned his narrow hips, over what seemed to be a kind of leather kilt. His legs, almost hidden in his tail feathers, were long and lean. Gavin wondered how they could hold up such a burly torso, but avian physiology wasn’t part of his college studies.