Valves & Vixens

by Nicole Gestalt

  His ship was designed for speed and elegance; it had a small crew and accommodated only a few passengers who took dinner together at the Captain’s table. The situation made it simple for her to take inventory of the others without being obvious.

  There was the tall and regal-looking Dora Atkins who travelled alone. Sheila thought she had a hungry eye for men. A headmistress at a girl’s school, she was taking a year sabbatical, she said, to see the world.

  A businessman named William Collins was returning to his home in the Caribbean. “I do import and export work,” he told them. “Nutmeg to England, machine parts to St. Vincent and so on.” He seemed friendly, but underneath she detected a hard edge that probably helped him in his business. His smile seemed somewhat cruel, or perhaps simply cynical, and intrigued her. He didn’t say much, making him even more interesting.

  A much-too-young honeymooning couple were on their way for him to take his new job in Trinidad - they fixated on each other and ignored everyone else. As they seemed quite happy she was delighted for them

  The first mate was a tall and rugged man named Toller who, unlike the Captain, looked ill at ease, almost out of place in his starched white uniform. He spoke politely when spoken too, but seemed intent to mind his place. Seemingly competent, clearly he would need to acquire more social skills before he would be promoted to Captain.

  The final passenger was Helen Chadwick, the youngish widow of a doctor. Returning home after bringing her husband’s ashes back to England for burial next to his mother, she had bright eyes and a remarkably cheerful disposition.

  “I did adore my husband,” she told Sheila, “but I couldn’t stay in England. Most of my friends and family act as if I should have died with him, or at least play dead. Heaven forbid I should have a social life. One might as well be a Hindu and throw herself on the husband’s pyre. John was wonderful alive, but a crashing bore dead.”

  Sheila loved the way Dora and Charles both looked shocked at her pronouncement. The group was as diverse and interesting group as Sheila could have hoped for. If she resolved her quandary about Charles, they had the makings of great entertainment.

  Throughout the evening she watched Dora flirt tentatively with each of the men except the newly-wed, testing the waters. She knew how to use clothes and make-up, not to mention flattery and touching, to her advantage. And she had a knack for getting the men, even the reclusive Charles, to talk about themselves. Seated between the Captain and Mr Collins, Sheila enjoyed listening to Dora’s conversations and managed to learn a lot about her shipmates.

  After dinner they adjourned to the lounge where they danced to records. She noted the calm strength and confidence in the way Mr Collins’ hands touched her as they danced. He led her across the floor surprising her with his graceful and almost effortless movements. In contrast, Captain Stanley was a cheerfully aggressive flirt who used dancing as an excuse to touch women. His words were gallant and he was adept at flattery, only a tinge crude or vulgar when he whispered in her ear. But his hands... they roamed his partner’s body far more intimately than most gentlemen would attempt. His hands betrayed him for a rogue. Or perhaps they advertised it. Certainly one of the joys of being Captain was access to the available women passengers and likely many women would make themselves available to him. His manner promised a woman nothing but a good time.

  Charles was, of course, an excellent dancer. He moved predictably and his touch was untoward. She couldn’t imagine him touching his partner on the ass as the Captain had hers.

  As the party broke up, they said their good nights and walked to their staterooms.

  “Your room or mine?” she asked, hoping he would take her into his bed. “It isn’t daytime now,” she reminded him. She held hope that making love in his room might help. There he might be more confident or comfortable or whatever he needed to be to fuck her with passion.

  Instead he turned and looked at her, his face sad. “I’m not feeling well,” he said. “I’m afraid that this infernal and continual rocking is getting to me.”

  She looked at him, noting that he was a little pale. She had barely felt any rocking at all and had even talked to the Captain about the amazing stability of the ship.

  “You’ll adjust to it,” she said more confidently than she felt. “I understand it takes a day to get one’s sea legs.”

  His good night kiss was tender, gentle and lacking even a hint of passion. Not even remorse for what might be. Then he slipped off to his room without looking back. She watched intently as his door closed; it snapped shut and she heard him set the dead bolt, feeling as if he was locking her out specifically.

  Upset by his strange behaviour, she walked the dark deck for a time, not so much to think, but to wind down, let the seething in her brain subside. As she walked along the railing she passed the open port of a stateroom and heard sounds. Curious, she looked in and by the soft light of a lamp in the room saw Dora naked on her hands and knees on the bed. Toller, the mate, also naked, knelt behind her. He rested his hands on her ass and was rocking a lovely hard cock into her. He was a well-built, and from what she could see, a well-hung man watching them both made Sheila grow wet.

  This, she thought, was how people acted when they desired one another.

  A pang of jealousy stung her. She, with a fiancé, would be alone in her bed while Dora the prowling huntress was enjoying a grand fuck, gaining a wonderful conquest on her first night at sea. Sheila watched them for a time, noting the way Dora’s small breasts jiggled as Toller filled her.

  When Toller came in her, they collapsed in a happy pile of sweaty and sticky flesh; Sheila slumped against the wall, feeling weak knowing she’d rather be in Dora’s situation than her own. When her pulse finally slowed and her legs steadied, Sheila went to her room where she fell asleep imagining handsome men touching her, stripping her naked and fucking her. She slept fitfully.

  ***

  Although Charles looked fine the next morning he seemed to tense when she spoke to him.

  “I’m quite a bit better, but not completely myself,” he said. As she watched him talk to the other passengers she thought he seemed fine with them. Talking to her was clearly more of an ordeal.

  She spent the day on deck reading a novel she had brought and chatting a bit with Dora, who seemed to be a nice person and quite bubbly after the fucking she’d had. Sheila bit her tongue to keep from asking her about it but she couldn’t help but wonder if Toller had taken her several times more after Sheila had gone to bed.

  At dinner Charles looked uneasy again; he made his excuses immediately after and left before the dancing. As she danced with Captain Stanley and Mr Collins she decided that Charles was actively avoiding her. The idea both angered her and gave her a sense of relief. In her mind, she was done with him. They were not a couple and she determined not to waste the rest of the cruise trying to make herself believe that she could spark something in him. The resolution calmed her and made her view the men around her with renewed interest.

  She wondered if her decision showed. Mr Collins actually made conversation as they danced, asking her how she was enjoying the ocean voyage and talking a bit about life in the Caribbean. He obviously loved the tropics and its lifestyle; he relished getting back.

  “Life is simpler there,” he said. “In the main cities and towns the same foolish society games are in full tilt, but it is less necessary to engage in them than in Europe.”

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Out here a person has other social options. Some of us make our own.”

  After that she took a turn across the floor with the Captain he chatted about all sorts of things, none of them memorable, but he spoke simply to entertain and he delighted her.

  When the party finally broke up she still wasn’t sleepy and decided to walk the deck, enjoying the dark night and watch the moon, which ha
d just begun its rise. The only lights were soft ones in the rigging and the stars bright in the sky. She walked through that muted dark and listened to the sensual pulsing hiss of the ocean slipping along the hull.

  “It’s a nice night to be at sea,” a voice said and she turned slightly startled to see Captain Stanley.

  “It is. Quite lovely.”

  “Much too lovely to experience alone. Where is your fiancé?”

  “The romance of the sea is lost on Charles, I’m afraid. It seems to be making him ill.”

  “The sea can do that,” he said. “She doesn’t even need to play rough to make some people feel unsettled.”

  “How philosophical of you, Captain,” she said.

  “Some people have difficulty relating to the sea,” he said as he came beside her to rest his arms on the railing. “She is a powerful force and an almost irresistible seducer.”

  “For those who admire her.”

  “Naturally men who do not appreciate her charms fear her just as weak men fear any powerful woman.”

  “And women?”

  “I suspect weak women fear her in the jealous way they fear any woman who lures brave men to her arms. Widow’s walks are not places where kind words are spoken about her.”

  “I wouldn’t think so.” They stood side by side, arms just touching, gazing out at the phosphorescence of the sea.

  “You are neither afraid of her nor jealous,” he said after a moment of silence had passed.

  “No. I am intrigued.”

  “Intrigue is a potent form of curiosity,” he said. “Intrigue and a desire to learn more make treacherous partners.”

  “And you are a clever scoundrel,” she said.

  He laughed. “Am I?”

  “Yes. You weave intrigue by warning of the dangers of intrigue. You manage to utter cautions while making the dangers sound alluring. I think you have learned many lessons from your mistress, the sea.”

  “I admit to my own lust for her,” he said. “And I acknowledge my curiosity is not easily sated.”

  “Curiosity about what?”

  He put his hand on her hip and she tensed for a moment before relaxing to let the warmth of his palm seep into her. The startling move quickly evolved to a comforting gesture. “About powerful women who let weak men lead them.”

  The idea that he thought her a powerful woman thrilled her. “No more. Romance with me is lost on him as well. I see that now. He’ll be relieved when I tell him.”

  The Captain nodded slowly. “I agree. He will be relieved for although he isn’t weak he is cowardly.”

  She smiled in the dark. “Explain the difference.”

  “I am certain that on his chosen battlefields he readily fights many battles quite fearlessly. But he fears what he knows nothing about. He dislikes arenas with no rules and forces that are unpredictable.”

  “Such as the sea?”

  “Yes. And strong, powerful and sensual women who are, for him, as unpredictable and frightening as the sea. Women like you.”

  “You think he fears me?”

  He shrugged. “I think you expected, wanted, perhaps demanded something more than to be on his arm and talk politely in his polite circles. I think what you want is something that is too animalistic to suit his taste and that you know you want it unsettles him. That you insist on it frightens him.”

  She considered that idea and decided it seemed right. As she thought, the Captain put his hand on her ass and applied enough pressure to pull her hip up against his. “Only a coward wouldn’t try and face down whatever his demons might be to enjoy such a beautiful and hungry woman. He must fear pleasure itself.”

  His words, the low masculine growl of his voice and his nearness all combined to send a pleasurable chill rush through her. He turned to face her; his hands gripping her arms, pulling her against him as she lifted her face up to his. He kissed her roughly, his lips a bruising force against her hungry mouth. His tongue pushed open her mouth and filled it as his hands pulled her tight to him. She put her arms around his waist, letting herself be swept up in the riptide spinning her along head over heels.

  While one hand clutched her ass his other began undoing the top of her dress, tearing at the lacing and buttons. Fashion decreed so many buttons but passion wanted none. The cool night air rushed in to caress her nipples as he said something guttural and bent down, taking one hard nipple into the heat of his mouth and sucking it. She put her hand behind his head, tangling fingers in his hair and revelling in his strength.

  He pushed her back against the wood of a bulkhead and dropped to his knees, lifting her dress, tearing at her under things, ripping them from her. She gasped when he lifted one of her legs and buried his face in her crotch, his tongue burning her with arousal as it explored her cunt. The hot tongue ebbed and flowed inside her, running quickly along the ravines of her pussy and tasting her. His lips found the hood over her clitoris and his tongue snaked out to touch it and send fire racing through her. As she gasped for air he forced his fingers inside her. His mouth sucked her clit and his fingers worked furiously in her.

  Needing to come so badly, wanting to be set alight, she came now, her body convulsing in spasms of pleasure, her juices flooding his face and fingers as she came. He licked and sucked and probed her even harder, continuing until she began to melt.

  He stood making clear he wasn’t done just yet. Grabbing one of her breasts in a large hand, he held her still as he undid his pants and dropped them to the ground, exposing his stout and hard prick. His smile was ghostly in the moonlight as he paused to stroke his shaft and squeeze her breast, his calloused fingers brushing over her nipple. Then he moved close to her. A white drop oozed from the bulbous head of his prick as he released her breast and grabbed her legs. She balanced herself by putting her hands on his shoulders as he hooked her legs over his arms. Her weight sagged against the bulkhead behind her but he held her effortlessly whilst he worked his cock between the swollen lips of her pussy. He clamped his lips over hers, filling her mouth with his tongue. She sucked the monster tongue and he drove his hips forward, taking her in one powerful thrust.

  They broke the kiss, her head rocking back as he fucked her against the wall, pounding his cock in her tight sheath, moaning with delight as her body caressed his in their primal embrace. Her world spun and when he came, he pushed her legs up high and drove into her even deeper, pulsing far inside her.

  As he put her legs down, helped her find her balance, she found herself on a far different path than she expected and wondered where it would take her.

  He pulled up his pants and kissed her.

  “And now?” she asked.

  He picked up the remnants of her under things that lay at their feet and handed them to her. “And now that we have entertained my mistress, we go to my cabin and fuck proper,” he said.

  ***

  That night she learned that Captain Stanley was a rapacious lover. She had expected him to be a randy goat but learned (happily) that he took great enjoyment from giving a woman pleasure. He stripped her naked, running his hands over her body while he spoke of it admiringly, taking enthusiastic inventory of her feminine charms that he described in incredibly vulgar terms that excited her beyond anything she had known. She had never considered having a man talk about the quality, texture and desirability of her breasts and ass, and even the tender flesh of her pussy. Then, as she lay tingling on the bed and wanting him, he removed his own clothes. They stretched out on the bed - her back to his front, spoons, he said. He lifted her leg and entered her from behind, taking her in a long and slow coupling while he nuzzled the back of her neck and fondled her breasts. The pleasure of it ebbed and flowed and when they were both intensely excited again he rolled her on her stomach and fucked her from behind, driving his prick into her with furious thrusts. The passion of it made
her explode and then she felt his hot cum surging in her.

  They slept for a time, until, in the dark night she woke on her back, seeing his face over hers, him climbing on top of her, tipping her legs back as far as he could, before plundering her while uttering a string of delicious oaths. She didn’t come this time, but revelled in his obvious desire to possess her and delight at doing so.

  She woke to daylight streaming in the porthole. The Captain was gone. She found a note.

  “It was a lovely night. You are a wondrous piece of ass, dear Sheila. I am, alas, quite spent for the moment, and duty calls.”

  She stretched happily reading the note again and feeling the patches of his dried cum on her thighs and a delicious soreness between her legs. She gathered her clothes and retreated to her cabin and a luxurious bath.

  ***

  She expected lunch that day to be awkward, but Charles seemed to be benefiting from her keeping her distance. She watched him chat amiably with Dora and the widow. Mr Collins, on the other hand, had begun to show interest in her.

  “You have a face that expresses a great deal,” he said.

  “Is that good?” she asked.

  He tilted his head. “It depends on how much you want to keep secret.”

  “Perhaps you are misled. I might have dark secrets but hide them well.”

  “Actually, I don’t think it is a specific secret you show on your face as much as a quality.”

  “A quality?”

  “Yes. An aspect of your personality,” he said. He took a long look into her eyes. “But perhaps you do have some secrets you savour.”

  She wanted him to go on, but he didn’t explain. She had been teasing, but she was savouring her affair with the Captain - it wasn’t exactly a dark secret, only a delicious one.