by Ava Michaels
He taught me a little about the nautical terms. The bow was the front of the boat and the stern was the back. The left was port side, and it had the same amount of letters as the word 'left'. Starboard was the right side, which apparently was because of old rudders, called the steer board.
He was a bit of a geek as a sailor too, which did nothing to lessen my attraction to him. I had to wonder if he didn’t sort of ramble on about these kinds of things because he was a bit nervous, too.
I watched the boom which was the pole on the bottom part of the sail swing over me and thought that being the captain of my own pirate ship would be a nice life. Of course, I meant the Hollywood version of that life. The romantic version where my clothes would fit perfectly, my skin would be flawless and I’d be an expert fencer. Not the real life pirates who had most of their teeth missing, spotted sea monsters from all the bottles of rum and died either by drowning or at the hands of other equally emaciated pirates.
"So Captain Big Stick, why did you end up not continuing sailing?"
He grinned at being called Captain Big Stick, and puffed out his chest noticeably, bringing his hand up to his forehead and scanning the horizon in a mock adventurer style. He shrugged carelessly and I swung the rudder left for him, which brought the boat right and the boom swung over me again.
"Well, I was a boy from a landlocked area of the flyover states who had ideas of being a businessman," he said, starting a bit dramatically, but it piqued my interest. "When I came here, I went headlong into studying economics and sociology, thinking that I could make a better life for my people back home who just didn't have the opportunities that people out here had."
"So, you started raiding villages as a pirate?" I asked, jokingly.
"I want to say yes to that, but it would be a lie," he said, grinning. "But I actually got into sailing because I knew it was a thing that rich people do and it would get me into the right circles."
I thought about it. That was clever foresight for an eighteen year old.
"But when I started mingling with those groups, I didn't feel right. Sailing wasn't the sailing you read about in Patrick O'Brian books," he said and I gave a quizzical expression to this part. "Patrick O'Brian is an author of nautical stories. He's like the Stephen King of nautical stuff."
I nodded, pretending I understood what he was talking about.
"So sailing wasn't all pillaging, wenches, and rum?" I asked, smiling slightly.
“That would have been a lot more fun. No,” he shook his head. “The majority of people I met who had the luxury of having boats were just assholes. I mean, at the yacht club I thought I wanted to belong to, they would have these huge parties and get so drunk they would trash their own clubhouse.” He grabbed a loose piece of rope and fumbled a few quick knots with it. “Here I was trying to make a good impression and the guy who won the Mackinaw the previous year was passed out cold in the lobby of the club as soon as you walk in. They didn’t have any respect for themselves. How can you be around people like that?”
"So you just stopped sailing because of them?"
"No, I still sail from time to time. Mr. Johansen knows that I have a love for sailing and he lets me borrow boats from time to time, especially when it's a special occasion like this one."
Hmm, so Big Stick had not only a geeky soul, a sailor’s soul, but he was no push-over. I sat up to give him my full attention. Those elevator rides made him seem… Like a player… A Big Stick… Multiple times… But he was so much more than that…
"I think that was a good decision," I said with a smile.
He smiled back at me, grabbed my bare foot and squeezed it in a way that made my heart flutter. That was a boyfriend sort of thing to do. I squirmed just a little because it tickled.
"So, Captain, my Captain, where are we off to?" I asked, scanning the horizon like he had done before, affecting a strong pose.
He laughed at me.
"There is a small island in the middle of Crystal lake that is perfect for picnics. I thought you might like some of my actual cooking this time."
”You actually cooked? What have we got, some peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips in those little bags for lunches, and Capri-Sun too?” I said and smiled at him laughing.
This was nice. I needed this in my life right now. Nothing confusing, everything just right. Big Stick was getting closer to fulfilling his username…
………
We pulled up to the small island, which was barely six hundred feet across, and Big Stick jumped out and pulled the boat into the little rocky shoal. Although I could have jumped out and dragged the boat in with him, I thought it was time to let him be the man. He helped my dainty little self off the boat and onto the rocks and tied the bow to a tree that hung over the water.
He then fetched the wine and picnic basket as I started exploring the island. It wasn't very large, but there was a perfect little clearing in the middle, blanketed with pine needles and with a little shade that he laid down a blanket and the picnic basket on. The air smelled totally different here than it did on the water. It smelled like grass, flowers, growing things, and dirt. You could hear plump bumble bees as they jumped from flower to flower getting even plumper with pollen.
"So where did you actually get a picnic basket like that?" I asked. It was a traditional Little Red Riding Hood basket with a tea towel tucked in on top with cross stitched flowers of a rainbow of colors on the corner. "It seems like a story book style of picnic basket."
He smiled. "It's actually my grandmother's. She lives in town and she heard about my date and said I could borrow it."
My heart flipped right there. His grandmother, who he stays close to, lives in town and lent him this amazing picnic basket for our date? Also, he told his grandmother about us?
"Oh, you told your Nana we were going out? Boy, you better slow down," I said. "You'll take my heart before long if you keep it up."
“Fine by me.”
He laid out the blanket for me, and I kicked off my sandals, spread my dress and sat down in a very proper manner with the help of his hand.
He uncorked the bottle of wine and poured me a glass, which I gratefully accepted. It was a Chenin Blanc, a very tart wine that tasted just like the earth it was grown in, with a slightly fruity balance to it. I knew this and shared it with him because I had watched a wine show recently that featured this exact wine. As he laughed at me I pretended to polish my nails on my chest like I was some kind of expert.
He laid out quite a spread of food: Greek pasta salad, little tramezzini corner cut tuna fish sandwiches with lemon chili mayo, oven fried chicken on a stick which I thought was clever, an olive, French cheese plate, and apple crumb squares.
He went to all these lengths to please me today. It wasn't the control that I liked, it was that he spent so many hours today and yesterday thinking about me. That's what I liked the most.
"How long did it take you to make all of this?" I asked.
"Ah, I don't know," he said, trying to pass off the question. "Well, I didn't actually make the apple crumb squares. My grandmother made those, but I made the rest."
I couldn’t help but smile, raise my eyebrows to the middle of my forehead, and put my hand to my heart in surprise. "Your grandma sounds like a real nice lady," I said, taking a sip of wine as he laid me a sampler plate of all his delicious creations. “Please tell her I said thank you.”
"She is a nice lady. Gram’s has always been a tough old bird. Her first husband died in Korea, and then she just soldiered on, typing for the NSA and raising two children," he said, with pride in his voice. "It wasn't easy for her, which makes it hard now that all of the family has moved out west and people only come to see her once a year."
"You're a good grandson to keep her company," I said.
He nodded. "I hope you don't mind that I've talked with her about you."
I smiled. "I don't mind at all. I think it's…” I struggled for the right word as I blushed but only cam
e up with, “Very cute."
"She asked me if I would invite you over for high tea sometime," he said, smiling an awkward smile.
"I actually know high tea and I love it," I said. I actually did, even though it was a very strange outdated practice. "I love the tea ceremony, and I am very partial to ham salad sandwiches, as cheap as that makes me sound."
He laughed.
"Grams are for anyone who wants to have high tea, and she knows the poverty that brings on a love of ham salad sandwiches," he said, then realized what he said. "No, I didn't actually mean that you were poor, I was just saying that ham salad used to be a poor people's thing, almost like quinoa..."
I laughed at his stumbling.
"I know what you meant, and yeah, ham salad isn't really a poor person's thing anymore. No one has the time to dice ham that fine and preserve it like that. It's strange how poor people things then become rich people things and vice versa," I said thoughtfully.
We had a nice moment of silence, looking up at the sparse pine trees and feeling the wind blow through them.
We ate a little, drank a little more and I asked him about his short-lived sailing career. He apparently had won a few tournaments in his time, but I had to press him to get those out.
There was a moment when he was refilling my wine, where our eyes connected.
I set my cup to the side and leaned in to him. I gently kissed his lips that were sweet from the wine. My mind had shut off. There were no tumultuous thoughts or conflicting emotions like there had been last night. I was completely in the moment with Big Stick… Alone with him.
I gently pulled back from him and looked seriously into his eyes. I studied his face, and his hair, touching them gently as if they were made of porcelain. I leaned back in to kiss his neck and breathe no words but just my desire into his ear. His arms tightened around my waist and he pulled his breath in quickly as he pulled me on top of him. I was nervous. My body seemed to know what it wanted. My hands grasped his hair as our lips met. I felt myself pull closer and closer to him, my hips grinding gently against his. In one motion I sat up, still straddling him and pulled the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. I didn’t feel self-conscious or awkward. I felt excited and confident and I wanted Big Stick to feel that way too. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his perfectly defined chest. I leaned back down and felt all the blood in my body race as the warmth of our bodies connected.
As we kissed, I reached down and, a little clumsily, unbuttoned his pants and gently pulled the zipper down. This was it. I was ready. I wanted to lose my virginity here, with this man, right now. It wasn’t the alcohol. It was him. Not just Big Stick, but his real name, Ryder Dawson. He was the man worthy enough.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I didn't reply but instead kissed him feverishly. I pressed my body against his and then pulled him on top of me. He was beyond words already and was looking at me with a wild abandon. He kissed me deep, bringing his strong hands to my hips and started taking my yellow thong off gently. I felt a quiver run through me as he slipped it over my ankles and off. He bent his head down and kissed me on the stomach, then drew his tongue over to the edges of my pelvis and kissed deep there, while circling his tongue in a way that made me lift my hips off the ground.
“You…” He kissed my left inner thigh. “Taste…” He kissed my right inner thigh. “Outstanding…” He kissed my lower stomach. “I can’t wait… To taste… All of you…”
Jesus… Penus… The way he spoke and what he was about to do to me… Made me ache for his mouth… His tongue... It was like waiting for the waiter when you’re starving. I… Was… Starving… For Attention… Sweet passionate attention.
When he finally flicked his tongue over my clit, I exploded in pleasure. As he seduced me, working me into a frenzy, the rain started to pour down over us.
"Nooooo."
I didn’t moan, no. I purred like I was eating ice cream. He stopped so I looked down at him.
“Don’t stop…”
“You’re purring.”
“That means you’re doing it right…”
I pushed his head back down and he kissed between my breasts. I pushed down again and he kissed my bellybutton. I pushed his head down once more and he kissed my… Aching core! If a guy pushed my head down I would have been pissed, but damn it, he had started this so my purring wasn’t going to stop him from finishing the job!
He pushed my knees to the side of my lower chest, opening me further. I looked down at him doing to me what no man had EVER done. He kissed, licked, kissed, and then licked again. His eyes moved slowly up, staring into my eyes while he gently and expertly massaged my clit. The pressure building became too much and I closed my eyes, arching my back to ride the waves of pleasure.
I wanted more though. I wanted him inside me. But, he wouldn’t stop. He continued for what felt like forever… Forever of pleasure… I rolled my hips with his amazing tongue techniques. Finally, I came.
I came hard.
It was like a bolt of lightning striking over our heads, which there actually was one.
I shuddered, the tingling and shocking feeling running through my body and I couldn't think anymore. It was like a blinding white light holding my body in paralysis. I arched my back and just held it like that for a moment. Lightning was striking around me and all through me. I knew he was the perfect lover. It was like he had a nine inch tongue and could breathe through his ears…
When I finally snapped my eyes open, recovering from my orgasm, white light sparked around me as I had begun to lose consciousness. When I finally recovered enough, I saw Big Stick looking at me. I blushed, still panting, just a little embarrassed at how loud or how clumsy or how silly I might have been. But, then he climbed up to me and kissed me passionately. I could taste myself on his lips but didn’t care. I inhaled the smell of his skin, the feel of his hair in my hands and kissed him back. I couldn’t speak. Damn, my sensitive area was like a lollipop. It wasn’t the flick of the tongue that did the trick. It was how many times it flicked that did the job.
After laying there for a minute, he finally spoke.
"Did you come?" he asked, innocently. He was smiling so he had to know that I did. Then again, after purring like that everyone at the lake probably knew I did.
"Of course not," I said, laughing. "What would give you that crazy idea?"
He laughed. "So it was good?"
"It was more than good," I said. I drew him close and kissed him again.
"While I would love more than anything to continue this, I think we are in danger if we don't leave this island," he said.
Apparently, we were in the middle of a storm and we should have gotten out of there a while ago, but deep in the thrall of our passion… My passion… We hadn't noticed a storm come over us because the lighting started to strike the same time Ms. Orgasm showed up. Virginity was thundering but the storm for her would have to come later.
I nodded a sheepish smile.
"But what about you?" I said coyly.
"I'll live," he joked, "but we might not live if we stay here."
He was right. We both packed up the picnic and brought it to the boat. He helped me in again, still a gentleman. He piloted the way back to the shore as the rain poured down on us.
All we could do was look at each other.
………
When we pulled into the docks, I was leaning on him as he steered the boat into the rocky beach and pulled it ashore. We were soaking wet and the rain hadn't stopped. I hadn't had the sense to wear a bra, so my breasts showed through my little sundress and Big Stick, being the good man that he was, lent me his shirt. We just lay like that for a little while, letting the rain soak into us and holding each other.
He pulled me close, kissed me on the neck, then on the lips and I responded, gratefully. Finally, he jumped out of the boat and pulled us ashore before we drifted off again. We both stood next to each other looking out at the water without saying a word. He cir
cled his arm around my waist and gave me a long, leg lifting kiss, my arm around his neck and hand on his chest.
"Thank you," I said breathlessly.
"For what?" he asked.
"Thank you for everything today. It's been wonderful. Keep that up and you may have a shot," I joked, trying to act hard to get, but I wasn't sure how I came off. "I'm borrowing this shirt, Jack Sparrow," I said and turned around and walked away making sure not to cover up my see-through dress too quickly.
It would have been a perfect exit if I didn't forget that my sandals were still in the boat. I ran back and he handed them to me. I can’t deny the fact that seeing him there, wet and shirtless, looking seriously at me made me want to give it all another go right there on the dock. His eyes saw through my t-shirt and sundress. He saw my heart. And I think he thought it was sexy. Damn Big Stick.
-----------Chapter 15-----------
When I got back to the apartment, I was soaking wet, wearing a boy’s shirt, and completely elated. The rain didn’t bother me at all. I must have looked a sight, prancing through the deluge like Gene Kelly in Sing’ in the Rain except I was humming “Six Different Ways” by the Cure all too loudly.
I burst into the apartment bedroom ready to share my exciting news but instead I was greeted with somewhat of a buzz kill.
There was Jess, completely naked, with one massive hairy chest. I was a bit grossed out not by the guy’s body hair but rather the position they were frozen in. I think it may have been illegal in this state. But even this disgusting display couldn’t ruin my feeling of euphoria.
“Um… Hey,” said the meathead. “Do you ever like knock?”
That comment made me a little angry. I decided to take action like I never have before. I went to my desk, turned my chair around to face this beast with two backs and began my tale.
“This is my room, dick head,” I exclaimed. “Jess, I have so much to tell you. Oh, wait. Where are my manors? My name is Olivia.” I reached my hand out to the man, making a mental note to douse it in hand sanitizer at the first opportunity.