SEA ORPHAN

by J. KRAMER

  He painted like mad. This painting would be the greatest of all his artwork. The oil lamp stood beside him on a stool so he could see what he was doing. The moonlight wasn’t enough and tended to distort the colors. A wave crashed against the rocks, spraying her, the droplets reflected the moonlight and clinging to her nipples and small mound of pubic hair. He drew in his breath. This was just the effect he’d waited for. Just the faintest hint of her cleft was visible, the small bud protruding just the slightest. She looked wanton, abandoned in her worship of the sky, the stars and the moon. She was a goddess come to life. Her hands were held up, reaching for the sky, almost as if she were trying to catch a star. Her full lips were slightly parted, her eyes luminous dark pools reflecting the indigo sky.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SEA ORPHAN

  Copyright ã 2002 by J. Kramer

  ISBN: 1-894869-02-8

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Zumaya Publications, 2002

  Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com

  TO MARK

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lightning slashed the darkened sky like a vengeful knife. A deafening thunderclap soon followed. “Sounds like the predicted hurricane is moving in. Is everything secured, Paul?” John Ferguson asked his son.

  Becky looked up from the book she’d been reading. “Father, I should go out and check on the horses. I can hear them above the storm. They’re restless.” Closing the book, she stood up from the deep armchair she’d been curled up in.

  “I don’t think so, Becky. Paul can go out and make sure the stables are secure and pacify the horses. The wind would blow away a frail waif like you. You’re not that strong yet.”

  Annoyed at her father’s words, which in her ears sounded demeaning though she knew very well it was said in a loving way, Becky started to walk to the living room door, her book under her arm. “Okay. I think I’ll go and read in bed. Goodnight, Father. Paul, make sure Lily is okay?” she asked her brother, worrying about her horse.

  “Yes, Sis. Don’t worry. Go to bed. You need your rest.”

  Her small feet flew up the stairs. Softly, she opened the door to her parents’ bedroom and peeked around the corner. Her mother was already fast asleep. “How can Mom sleep through this din?” she mumbled while tiptoeing into the bedroom to the nightstand beside the big four-poster bed and turned off the radio. Her mother stirred for a moment. She’d kicked off the covers and her body lay fully exposed in the dim light of the bedside lamp, her hand resting on the dark, bushy triangle at the base of her belly.

  Fascinated, Becky watched for a moment. Her target, the erotic books her mother read in bed, were forgotten for now. She saw a small smile play on her mother’s lips as her hand moved to rest between her legs. A soft moan escaped her throat as she spread her legs wantonly as if dreaming about a lover. The book she’d been reading lay on the floor. Becky picked it up and looked at the title. It didn’t shock her. She’d known for a long time that her mother read erotic novels before going to sleep. Often, she wondered if her father read them too, and if the two would engage in sex play because of the books. She tucked the book under her arm together with her own. Early in the morning she’d quickly put it back, before her mother noticed that it was missing.

  Mary Ferguson moaned again, spreading her legs even more. Becky watched, mesmerized, as her mother’s fingers played and fondled. Glancing at her mother’s face to make sure she slept soundly, she moved to the foot of the bed and gazed at her mother’s private parts. “Jesus, that hole is huge,” she whispered. “I wonder if mine looks like that.” It was hard to see details in the dim light because her mother’s clit was covered with thick, black pubic hair.

  She stood rooted for a while as she watched her mother’s sensual play. Large, long breasts swung back and forth like a pendulum as Mary writhed on the bed. Unconsciously, Becky felt her own flat chest. Excitement throbbed in her veins. Not because of her mother’s nakedness, but because she could visually examine her mother’s private parts.

  Another thunderclap startled her. The lights flickered and she hastened to her own room.

  Turning on her bedroom lights proved unsuccessful. The power had gone out in the few seconds it had taken her to get to her bedroom. The darkness didn’t bother her. Storms and hurricanes often hit Queensland and they were well prepared for power outages. Her fingers groped for the matches that always lay ready. She struck one and lit the oil lamp on her dressing table. The flame flickered lazily, sending eerie shadows throughout the room. Quickly, she peeled off her shorts, top and panties and stood naked before the large mirror. With a grimace she examined her thin body. Nothing. Not an extra pubic hair. Her breasts, if she could call them that, remained almost flat, like a little girl’s titties just starting to bud. Her nipples were those of a woman and looked strange against her pale skin and flat chest. Slowly, she massaged her breasts. She could feel just the slightest swelling but it was nothing to speak of.

  Yesterday, she’d turned twenty and her parents had thrown her a party. It wasn’t only a birthday party, but also a homecoming celebration. Just a few days ago, she’d been released from the hospital.

  At fourteen she was diagnosed with cancer and they treated her with chemotherapy. For five and a half years, the doctors fought to keep her alive and she was in and out of hospital. Then, suddenly, the doctors told her the cancer was in remission.

  Now, she could finally start to live. Strangely enough, she felt no different, except that her body had suffered from all the years of illness. Somewhere along the line, the chemotherapy had stunted her growth. Slowly her developing teenage curves had wasted away until she resembled a little girl again. Her short stature didn’t help matters.

  With a sigh she picked up the brush and vigorously plied it over the short tight blond curls that now covered her scalp. She’d had straight hair, but after the last treatment when her hair started to grow again, she discovered to her astonishment the tiny ringlets. The blue eyes that gazed back at her from the mirror looked large against the sharp planes of her cheekbones. Her lips were too full, she thought. Yesterday, none of the young men invited to the party had even spoken to her. They’d all concentrated on sexy Serena, her old friend from her high school days.

  Still brushing her half-inch length hair she walked to the window. Placing the brush on the windowsill, she tugged at the handles. It opened finally. The strong gale immediately found the open window and wrapped itself around her body. It almost felt like an embrace. She could feel its warm fingers on her exposed private parts and opened her legs a little. Breathing hard, she raised her arms as if worshipping the hidden moon and stars. Dreamily she gazed out at the wild waves. Her bedroom was at the back of the house and faced the beach and the sea. Often, she’d gaze longingly out at the ocean, dreaming about faraway lands and handsome lovers. She’d never had a lover, not even a boyfriend.

  More lightning and thunder. This time pelting rain accompanied it as if the skies themselves had opened and poured everything down onto their home.

  Becky quickly closed the window and picked up her brush again. She walked back to the mirror and gazed at her naked body. Her white skin was puckered from the windy assault and she shivered. While brushing her hair, she looked at her naked armpits, at the sparse pubic hair just ab
ove the almost bare cleft. Tears welled up. She tried to swallow them away, but the disappointment at her body, the loneliness, got to her, and she allowed the tears to run unheeded down her hollow cheeks.

  Angrily she put the brush down and through her tears glanced at the erotic book. It was no use trying to read now. The oil lamp didn’t give off enough light.

  She wiped the tears off her cheeks, crawled into bed and gazed up at the large poster on the wall. It showed her favorite movie star. The flickering flame from the oil lamp seemed to make him come to life. Slowly, she allowed herself to dream. “You’re so gorgeous,” she said softly to the poster. “But you’d never be interested in the likes of me. Still—I can dream…”

  Within minutes she felt his arms around her, caressing her, murmuring sweet endearments in her neck. The covers flew to the foot-end of the bed as she squirmed in ecstasy. Her hands massaged imaginary breasts, her legs opened wide. Tweaking her nipples, she felt them go hard. Rather than her fingers, she imagined his lips on her nipples, his teeth nibbling softly. Her hand stole slowly down her body. It was his tongue licking, his teeth biting playfully all the way down to her clit.

  Wantonly, she spread her legs more. Her fingers parted the virginal flesh, never touched by a man’s hands except in her imagination. She pulled the lips apart, opening her vagina for his inspection. Her clitoris throbbed so hard she thought it would burst. Soft moans escaped from her throat as his face advanced closer and closer until his head was between her legs and he looked deeply into the velvety tunnel that led to the core of her womanhood.

  Becky squirmed. She let go of the lips and groped to open the drawer of her nightstand. Her fingers clenched around the vibrator she’d secretly ordered in between hospital stays. Turning it on, she let its vibrations course through her arm for a moment before bringing it down between her legs. Slowly she rubbed it up and down her cleft until her flesh was on fire and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Her left hand held the soft lips apart while she inserted the vibrator carefully into her tight vagina. Last night, she’d used it for the first time and had used lubrication. Tonight she wanted to feel pain, to know what it felt like to have a man’s cock inside her taking her for the first time.

  It hurt, but it was a pleasant pain. A pain she welcomed. The vibrator wouldn’t go in very deep. It buzzed softly as she held it steady; its rhythm slowly bringing her to the climax she needed. She rubbed her clitoris with her left hand and squirmed as she felt waves of ecstasy consume her, race through her blood, pounding in her head.

  Finally release. Warm juices spilled over her hand as she withdrew the vibrator. Her vagina and clit throbbed from the unusual assault they had just received. Her hand was wet, sticky and she used her juices as a salve to ease the chafing the vibrator had caused.

  Closing her eyes, her hand still between her legs, one finger inserted in her vagina, she could almost feel his arms around her. His soft voice talked to her of love, of marriage. Slowly she drifted off into blissful sleep, escaping to a dreamland of erotic fantasies.

  ***

  A scream woke her up. Groggily she raised herself on an elbow trying to figure out if the scream was real or a figment of her dreams. She heard another scream. Her father’s deep voice overpowered the howling wind.

  Becky jumped out of bed. The vibrator fell to the floor, contrasting sharply white against the burgundy carpet. The flickering flame of the oil lamp sent eerie shadows through the room, bouncing off the walls. She flew to the door and opened it a crack.

  Just then, Paul came rushing out of his room toward her parents’ bedroom. “Paul, what the hell is going on?” she shouted the question at his back as he ran down the hallway and burst in through her parents’ door. He didn’t answer.

  Instead, a shot rang out. And another. Her mother’s screams stopped. “Oh, God—noooo,” she heard her father yell. Harsh male voices grated on her ears. She couldn’t hear what they were saying because of the howling wind. Another shot and her father’s voice was silenced too. Fear now overwhelmed her. Everything within her screamed to go to her family’s aid. She opened the door wider and started foolishly down the hallway.

  Trying to peer through the darkness of the hallway she discerned the shapes of two men coming out of her parents’ bedroom. She saw the glint of metal, heard a click and the bright beam from a flashlight fell on her naked form.

  “Fuck, there’s another one,” a voice growled.

  “Get her,” a lighter male voice ordered. “That one shouldn’t be hard to silence. She’s just a kid. We’ll scare the life out of her.”

  “What if she saw us?”

  “Are you fucking stupid? It’s too dark.”

  “It’s a girl. Maybe we can teach her a few things.”

  “Is your mind always on fucking sex? Get with it, man. We’re here for loot, not to rape little girls!”

  Becky’s heart beat so loud, it echoed in her head. She bolted for her bedroom. A bullet whistled past her head. Her hands shook as she slammed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock. Feeling like a cornered animal, her heart tearing apart at the fate of her family, she ran to the window and partially opened it. But it was stuck.

  Fists banged on the solid wooden door. She could hear the burglars throw their full weight against it. She knew it would hold for a while. But just a little while.

  Escape. She needed to get out of the house and get help. Fast. The discarded T-shirt and panties she’d taken off earlier lay near her feet. She grabbed the shirt and pulled it over her head. Her body shook uncontrollably with the fear that consumed her and she tore the panties as she yanked them over her feet and up to her hips.

  The drapes billowed into the room. Lightning lit up the skies, followed by a loud thunderclap. Terrified now, she covered her ears and wildly looked through the room and out the window. The force of two men beating down the door would cause it to give way any moment. She couldn’t waste any more time.

  The window refused to open all the way. Rain always caused the wood to expand. Cursing softly at her lack of strength, she tugged but couldn’t move the window an inch. Behind her the wooden door splintered. A marble kitten, a birthday gift, graced her dressing table. She dashed for it and threw it at the glass pane. Shards of glass showered the carpet. Winding the curtain around her hand she smashed the remaining pieces of glass out of the frame.

  Quickly, she climbed out of the window and dropped to the ground. Her feet sank into the now mushy, sandy soil. Wildly she sought a way of escape. Voices shouted at her from the window. Her eyes fell on the stables. They wouldn’t find her there. But just as she started to run toward them, a man appeared. She could see his face through the rain, but it only resembled a white blob, his mouth a gaping hole as he leered at her. When she turned around to head to the other side of the house, his accomplice ran toward her. She had no option but to head for the beach.

  Rain slashed against her face, blinding her. In the distance she heard Lily whinny. It was as if the mare knew her mistress was in trouble. She ran without looking behind her. Instinctively she knew the two burglars were hot on her heels. Bullets whistled past her head. She dodged from side to side, fearing one would hit her at any moment.

  The tide was high. It had picked up the dinghy that lay on the beach tied to a pole. The small rubber boat bobbed wildly on the waves that rolled onto the beach, the dinghy’s bright yellow a beckoning beacon that would lead her to safety. Her breath whistled from her throat as she tugged at the rope that held the dinghy. It came loose. Holding the rope in her hands she ran into the water. The strong undertow tugged at her legs, a wave crashed against her, almost toppling her off her feet. A bullet whizzed past her ears. She could hear the two men shout as she pushed the dinghy farther into the water and climbed into it. A wave picked it up as if it were a nutshell and tossed it out to sea.

  Becky lay flat on her belly and peeked over the edge. The rain stung her eyes. She could just barely make out two shapes on the
beach as they watched the dinghy get washed out to open sea. Were those flames she could see through the rain? Had they set fire to the house?

  She was safe now. But was she? Waves picked up the small boat and sent it crashing down again, tossing it around as if it were a mere toy. She hung on to the side with all her might, her mind now a blank, her fingers groping for the rope. She tied it around her waist and secured it with several strong sailors’ knots her father had taught her. Then shock set in. Slowly she felt herself falling into an abyss—darkness overwhelming her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lucien Moore strolled naked along the beach searching for debris washed up by the sea. His little island was his haven and he resented the garbage thrown overboard by tourists. He’d skirted the whole circumference of the island and had a jute bag filled with garbage. Some of it was biodegradable, the rest he would bury as he always did. He checked the beaches at least once a week.

  Whistling a tune, happy that his task was almost done, he scanned the last stretch of beach. “What’s that?” he asked himself as he made for what looked like a large heap of rags. As he came closer to the object, he saw with consternation that the tide had washed up a youngster. From a distance it was hard to tell if the child was male or female. He let out a long whistle, dropped the bag and sprinted to the slight form that lay like a crumpled doll on the warm sand. A thick rope was tightly wound around its waist, a deflated yellow rubber dinghy half covered its legs.

  Lucien ran to the child, knelt beside it and discovered the tide had washed up a girl, a young girl. He gently turned her body. The girl’s face was covered with sand. His fingers probed her neck for the main artery and a pulse. He found one. It beat erratically under his fingers. Quickly, he turned her over onto her belly, turned her head sideways and applied the life saving method he learned in the old days when he was a lifesaver.