SEA ORPHAN

by J. KRAMER

  “They’re going to involve the FBI, they told me,” said John.

  “Good. But I still think we’ll do better. Especially since the three of us are going. Where is Mary?”

  “Mary wasn’t feeling well so I gave her a sedative. I’ll tell her in the morning. I’m sure she’ll be happy about us going to the States to look for Becky and will probably want to go, too.”

  They spent the evening making plans for their trip and the search. John made reservations for them to fly to their individual destinations the next afternoon and evening.

  It was past midnight when Lucien left the Ferguson estate. He drove to his motel, picked up his meager belongings and headed for his own house. He drove to the house with mixed feelings. It would be the first time he’d set foot in the house since six years ago. He’d built it before he became engaged, his dreams about a future filled with love, a house resonating with the sound of children’s voices and running feet. But it wasn’t to be. He’d hired staff, including a gardener, and had kept them on after he left the house, his finances and their wages looked after by his accountant.

  After driving for almost two hours he pulled into the driveway. Seeing the house no longer caused him pain. The memory of his heartbreak was erased by the love he felt for Becky.

  “Mr. Moore! What a surprise! Why didn’t you let us know you were coming home?” asked Mrs. Barber, the housekeeper.

  Lucien shook the extended hand and smiled broadly at the older woman. He’d liked her from the moment he’d interviewed her. She reminded him of his own mother who had passed away many years ago. Her hazel eyes twinkled and her chubby face beamed.

  “Are you planning to stay, Mr. Moore?”

  “No. I just came to get some clothes for an unexpected trip,” Lucien told her. “I’ll be returning in the future though. With my wife.”

  “Your wife? You met someone on that Godforsaken island?” Mrs. Barber asked.

  “You might say that. You’ll have the chance to prepare for a huge wedding soon.” He spoke the words but inwardly he didn’t feel so confident. Somewhere along the line he’d made up his mind that his hermit days were over. After he found Becky and they were married, he wanted to settle on his estate. But only if she wanted that, too.

  The three men met at the airport. John had talked Mary out of accompanying them just in case the police came up with any leads or if a ransom call or note would arrive. Mary would be able to phone them immediately. She’d argued, he told Lucien, but he had persuaded her to stay behind.

  They traveled to San Francisco together. John and Paul would connect in San Francisco and continue on to their destinations. The three men sat in silence each lost in thought about their seemingly impossible task.

  Lucien had the window seat. He gazed down at the large city of San Francisco as the plane descended and wondered where their search would lead them and if it would prove fruitful. Becky, where are you? His heart cried out. We’re here for you, my darling… We’ll find you…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "We’re making good time, Mr Roarke,” said the captain.

  “Good. I’d like us to get home as soon as possible,” Gavin replied.

  “If the weather stays as it is now, we’ll get to Costa Rica in a couple of days.”

  “Great. We’ll stay in Costa Rica for two days and then go on to San Francisco.”

  Becky heard the last words as she sidled up to Gavin’s chair and stood behind it, her hands on his shoulders. “You mean we’re almost there?”

  “Yes. There are a few things we need to take care of in Costa Rica and then we’ll go home.”

  “I can’t wait,” she murmured and sat down in the chair next to him. Becky wondered about her husband. He desired her, she could tell, but he’d not touched her again except to give her a hug or a kiss on the forehead. He treated her more like a sister than a wife. Sexually, she was frustrated. She wanted him, needed him to make love to her to fill the empty void in her heart and she didn’t understand why he had distanced himself. He was giving her time to heal, he’d told her, but she was healed now. Except that her memory had not come back. Somewhere in the dark corners of her mind the truth about the past was hidden. It refused to surface.

  Gavin watched the changing expressions on Becky’s face. She was bothered by her loss of memory, he full well realized, but he was glad that nothing of her past surfaced. He’d been very careful around her. Though she drove him almost mad with desire, he used Juanita to vent his frustrations on. At night, once Becky slept soundly, he’d softly sneak out of bed and would go to Juanita’s cabin. Juanita loved every moment of it. She was crazy about him and he could knead her at will. Juanita would do anything he asked. But Becky had already shown a stubborn trait. She’d refused to wear what he suggested and wore what she felt like. Much to his disgust, she insisted on wearing the more conservative clothes the sales woman had included in the wardrobe. On several occasions he’d been tempted to throw them all overboard and leave her nothing but the G-string bikinis, but he was afraid that would make her angry. Becky had even given Juanita some of the Bermuda shorts and blouses. Gavin smiled. Little did Becky know what went on while she slept, and she slept soundly. Her headaches plagued her each day so he gave her aspirins to combat them. One of the aspirin was always the sleeping pill.

  Just last night, Gavin had asked Juanita to join him in his cabin rather than go to Juanita’s. Becky was fast asleep and when Juanita arrived, he’d pulled the covers back to expose Becky’s naked body. Juanita had protested. Gavin knew she was consumed with jealousy but that excited him even more. Then he’d ordered Juanita to make love to the sleeping woman while he sat beside the bed and watched. It was a new game. When Juanita had buried her head between Becky’s legs he’d mounted Juanita from behind.

  Becky had moaned softly in her sleep and her hand indicated she was having a pleasant dream because it stole down to her clit. Juanita had pulled her face back quickly and they watched while Becky masturbated. Watching her slim fingers manipulate the cleft, enter her vagina, had caused Gavin’s blood to boil. He’d almost forgotten his resolution, not to touch her until they were home. It fascinated him that Becky slept through all of it. Even Juanita’s screams as she reached one orgasm after another, didn’t wake her. Becky’s juices were for him. He’d shoved Juanita out of the way and hardly cared when she ran crying back to her cabin. He’d caught the drops with his tongue then felt his penis stiffen again as he softly stroked and licked the moist cleft. He’d needed more satisfaction so he’d fetched Juanita from her cabin to fill his needs. He had dragged her by the hair and told her to lie face down on the foot end of the bed so he could look at Becky while screwing Juanita. Though Juanita cried, begged for them to continue in her cabin, she’d given in to him. She always did. And Becky slept, unaware of anything.

  He doubted if Becky would be as compliant once he started making demands. And that would be very soon. Once they were home, he would give her a wedding night she’d never forget. The thought excited him. The idea of marrying this beautiful girl, of forcing himself to just play with her and wait for a real wedding night, was a novelty, something new, something completely out of character for him. But, all the other women were just toys. Becky was different. She would be his lady of the manor, his hostess, and he would be the envy of all his friends to have found such a beautiful woman. He masturbated slowly while he let his imagination run wild about the wedding, the reception, one that would be talked about for months. It would be a wedding that equaled the royal weddings.

  ***

  Two days later they arrived in Costa Rica. Becky hung over the railing and watched Harry catch the rope and secure the boat. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. Again there was no recollection of ever having been in Costa Rica though Gavin told her they’d stopped there when they had set sail for Australia.

  Gavin joined her. “Are you ready to take off?”

  “I guess so. Where are we going? I need my purse,” she sai
d and started to head toward the lounge to fetch her purse from the bedroom.

  “You don’t have a purse. It was stolen. Once we’re home, you’ll have to apply for a new drivers license and all that.” Gavin knew full well he’d get her false papers but the stolen purse was the best excuse he could come up with. “We’re going to visit an artist.”

  “Really? The same artist who did the paintings?”

  “No. Not him. He lives on an island, remember? This man dabbles in a different kind of art.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’ll see,” he said while taking her arm and helping her onto the wharf.

  Costa Rica was a busy place. It teemed with tourists. Children came running toward them, begging for money or a chance to be their guides. A little girl tugged at Becky’s shorts. Becky smiled down at the urchin. “Gavin, give the little girl some money?” she asked.

  Gavin had just hailed a taxi. He scowled but when he saw the expression on Becky’s face he dug in his pocket and gave the child a few coins. “Get in the cab, Becky. We’ll go sightseeing later.”

  The taxi pulled into a narrow alley and stopped before a little shop. The window was brightly painted with all kind of pictures. In the center, large letters said, Electrolysis and tattooing.

  Becky first looked at all the pictures on the window then read the words. Shocked, she turned to Gavin. “What are we doing here?”

  “Time to get rid of some bum fluff. This man is the best!”

  “I won’t do it. I’ll shave it off, but I draw the line at having it permanently removed.”

  “Honey…”

  “Gavin, I don’t care how you wheedle, I won’t do it. You’d have to drag me in by my hair.”

  Gavin looked at the stubborn set of her lips and defiant eyes. He sighed and felt angry for a moment. “Sweetie, you promised you’d have it done on the way back.”

  “I can’t imagine myself ever having made such a promise.”

  “How would you know? You don’t remember,” he said cruelly. “At least have it waxed for me.”

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No. Not really,” he lied.

  “And it grows back?”

  “Yes. Why do you want a bush so badly? It just interferes with our sex life.”

  “What sex life? You haven’t really touched me except that once, in the tub.”

  “I wanted to give you a chance to heal, to rest, but just wait. Once we’re home we’ll start all over again. I’m jealous because you don’t remember us making love. The first night in our home will be like your wedding night all over again. Let’s go and see Raphael.”

  Becky got out of the cab and waited for Gavin to pay the driver. When he took her arm and opened the door of the shop a flutter of fear settled in her stomach. The interior was dim, lit only by some flickering candles. The walls were covered with pictures of various tattoos so people could choose what they want. A glass showcase held rings, studs and some jewelry.

  A door at the back of the shop opened and an older man approached them. She guessed him to be in his late forties or early fifties. But he was incredibly handsome in a swarthy way.

  “Ah, Mr. Roarke! You have brought me another customer!”

  “Yes, Raphael. This is Becky, my wife. I’d like you to give her special treatment.”

  Raphael’s eyebrows shot up as he examined Becky from head to toe. “Your wife?”

  “Yes. Let’s go to your office and I’ll tell you exactly what she wants done.”

  Raphael extended his hand to Becky. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Roarke. Mr. Roarke is very lucky. You are beautiful.”

  Becky smiled. “Thank you, Raphael.”

  “Will you follow me, Mr. Roarke? Mrs. Roarke, you can get ready while I discuss your wishes with your husband.”

  Becky followed him through the back door. It opened into a brightly lit room, reminiscent of a doctor’s examining room. How do I know that? She thought. The sight of the room caused a dizzy spell and she leaned against the door for a moment. Flashes of other rooms just like it, or similar, shot through her mind’s eye. In the center of the room stood a stretcher. Beside it a machine and a small table with a tray of instruments on it. Cords led to the wall.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Roarke?”

  Raphael’s voice seemed to come from a long distance as the slide show in her mind continued. Doctors fiddling with her body. Needles poking at her and surgical instruments. Terror consumed her and her hand fiddled with the knob to open the door. She had to escape from this room.

  “Mrs. Roarke?” Raphael opened the door and called out to Gavin. “Your wife is terrified, Mr. Roarke. You’d better come in here to calm her.”

  Gavin hurried to the room. He saw the terror in Becky’s eyes and wondered about it. “Becky, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. In my mind I keep seeing rooms just like this. Medical equipment; nurses and doctors poking at me, needles. Something must have happened in my past. Do you know anything about that?” Becky asked while gasping for air.

  “She’s hyperventilating. She needs a sedative. Can you give her a shot?”

  “I don’t want a needle,” Becky shouted ready to dart out the door.

  “Honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Raphael isn’t a doctor and there’s no nurse here. Come now, calm down.” He nodded to Raphael who had the needle ready.

  Becky shook her head wildly. “I want to go.” She didn’t feel the prick of the needle in her arm as Raphael injected her with the sedative. Within seconds she calmed and felt dreamy. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” she said in a voice that didn’t seem like her own.

  “I’ve given her a shot of Valium. Many of my customers ask for it because it relaxes them,” Raphael told Gavin. “Now, what would your wife like me to do?”

  “Let’s go to the office to discuss that,” said Gavin while glancing at Becky. She’d climbed up onto the stretcher and sat on its edge, her feet dangling. Her sandals dropped to the tiled floor.

  “Okay. Becky, would you remove your clothing and cover yourself with this sheet?” Raphael handed her a white sheet.

  “All my clothing?” Becky giggled at the thought.

  “Yes. It is necessary if Mr. Roarke requires the usual.”

  Becky frowned. “The usual?” Raphael didn’t answer her. Even in her tranquil state she wondered about ‘the usual.’ How many women had Gavin brought here before her? Surely Juanita, but others, too? And what was the usual?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Becky lazily examined the room. The glass covered cupboards on the walls held many instruments. She wondered what they were all for. Everything was clinically white except for the floor. Black and white tiles were a stark contrast. What fascinated her were the etchings on the white tiles. After removing her shorts and top she draped the sheet around her body and looked at the etchings. They were mainly of naked women. Right under her feet was an explicit etching. The smallest details had been finely etched into the tile. It was of a woman’s cleft and inner thighs. Tattoos of snakes covered the inner legs, the tongues darting towards the woman’s vagina.

  Becky giggled. “Now if the tattoos weren’t permanent,” she murmured.

  “Pardon?” Raphael softly closed the door behind him and walked toward her.

  “I was admiring the etchings on the tiles. Did you do them?”

  “Yes. Actually they are pictures of some of my art.”

  A dull throb had started between Becky’s legs. “The snakes almost look real.”

  “And so they should. Would you lie down please? Your husband will join us momentarily. He needed to make some business calls.”

  “Does waxing hurt?”

  “A little. I’ll try to be as gentle as possible,” Raphael assured her while positioning her legs in stirrups and drawing up the sheet.

  Becky felt a moment of embarrassment at the sudden exposure of her cleft but when she looked at Raphael’s eyes she saw no sexual interest in them
. That thought caused the throbbing to increase. Wouldn’t the man get a stiff cock while working on a woman’s private parts? But his face was like a mask, his movements professional as he prepared her cleft.

  Raphael gently washed her cleft, the inside of her thighs and her bush. The disinfectant cooled her heated crotch, but only for a moment. A large mirror above her head showed her everything he was doing. Raphael placed a small triangle over her bush just above the clitoris.

  “The wax will feel warm on your skin. Please tell me if it’s too hot?”

  Becky watched in the mirror as he took a wooden spatula and started pasting a thick yellow liquid on her cleft and bush. His fingers were swift and gentle. Even though she could hardly feel his touch, the warmth of the wax and gentle touch of his hands caused wild erotic thoughts. The fact that the man hardly seemed moved by her exposed private parts excited her even more. She squirmed as he parted the lips and pulled them tight to apply more wax.

  “Don’t move, please,” he said softly.

  “I’m sorry. It feels strange.”

  “Yes. You’re going to feel a little bit of discomfort as I remove the wax. Please try to lie still?” Raphael asked.

  Raphael ripped the wax off so fast that the moment of smarting was gone in seconds. Becky looked in the mirror at her now naked cleft. It looked red and irritated by the unusual assault. “It’s red and feels chafed,” she told him.

  “That will go away in a few moments. I’ll apply some lotion to halt the irritation. We will let that part rest for now and I’ll work on the rest of your body.”

  “The rest? What else are you going to do? I’ve shaved my armpits.”

  “Mr. Roarke requested some piercing. Do you object?”

  Becky thought about that for a moment remembering Juanita’s body. “That depends. As long as you don’t go overboard.” She really felt too tranquil to argue too much. The whole procedure was like a major aphrodisiac causing wild desires to course through her body. When Raphael removed the sheet to expose her breasts, she saw her nipples hard as rocks poking up at the mirror. His fingers felt them, tweaked until they were even harder and she felt like grabbing the man’s crotch hidden under his white coat. She was amazed at her wanton thoughts.