"A penny for your thoughts! What's your name by the way?"
Charlie paused; she was about to introduce herself when the thought struck her that it might be better to preserve an air of mystery and romance about the whole episode. She quite liked the idea that she had this intimate experience of him but knew nothing about him.
"It is unlikely I shall see you again and I would quite like to preserve what we have between us as something special, something unique. You've been calling me Lady and I have been calling you Young Man. So let's just leave it as it is, a mystery, ships passing in the night, quite literally, shall we?"
"You call me Young Man but I think you are about the same age as me."
"And what age is that?" She asked, smiling.
"I'm twenty nine. I'd guess you are the same or maybe younger."
"Close enough." Charlie smiled more broadly, relishing the fact that he thought she looked almost five years younger than her real age.
The restaurant buzzed with conversation, mainly centred on the recent storm and the imagined heroics of various men in saving their boats from imminent disaster. In reality, most were ill prepared and were lucky that there was no further tales of loss or damage to tell. The atmosphere was relaxed now; the splendid food and wine had reduced the adrenalin effects. Charlie and the Young Man spoke of the past. She skipped the details of her monetary success, merely explaining that she made 'enough' from a career in writing fiction for women, as she called it. She told him her intentions, to sail to Curaçao then on to Venezuela to do some research for her next book. He replied that he had never been that far south.
He told her of his father. He had spent his whole life as a deep-sea fisherman, working hard out of Maine ports. His career battled not only the seas but also the markets and the IRS. He eventually gave up when the government introduced quotas, restricting his income. His advancing years persuaded him to retire. His father admitted that fish stocks were dangerously low and argued that prices should be allowed to rise to depress demand rather than subsidies be paid to fishermen to procure expensive fish at unrealistically cheap prices. His father retired at forty-nine and sold his fishing boat, at a loss. He bought this boat, running charters for well-heeled guests. He kept at it for two years until he met the second love of his life.
His father, now fifty-six, lived in Florida with his new love. He and his young wife, 'Elisa May Gershwin, no relation to George' as she would introduce herself, visited and fished with him for two weeks each year. The rest of the time, they travelled the world on her substantial income from her late husbands' business. The Old Man had done well for himself since he retired. The loss of his first wife a year after he retired had been a shock to his system but in the end had given him a new lease of life. He picked himself up and met his new wife while taking a party out on his boat. The Young Man explained how he got the boat as a gift on his twenty-fifth birthday, nearly five years ago.
He renamed it 'Father Out', rather witty, he thought. Charlie smiled good naturedly as she listened then explained the naming of her own boat. The sadness and remorse brought on in the past when she had related the story were surprisingly absent this time. She supposed that the more often she repeated it the more of it would flush from her system. It could be something to do with the fact that her emotions were in turmoil. Caused, no doubt, by the encounter and the subsequent interest the young man paid in her well-being.
They paid the check, he insisted on going Dutch even though she could more than afford it. They motored quietly back to his boat along the beach. She sat close to him in the dinghy, even though there was plenty of room for six. She placed her hand casually on his knee, as if it was an accustomed habit; he covered her hand with his own. It felt good, decided Charlie. They approached his boat in the pale starlit glow of a typical tropical night, the storm now completely cleared away to the east. The wind had died to its usual pleasant breeze and a half-moon had risen behind scattered high cirrus. The young man mischievously suggested,
"As your dinghy needs re-inflating and it is now dark and I don't feel like pumping up a dinghy after such a meal, might you like to stay a further spell on my boat?"
Charlie was quick to reply, surprising herself once again with the brazen smirk on her own face,
"Perhaps you might like to pump up something else instead?"
Again, their grins told the story. He steered the dinghy across the now quiet water to the rear of his boat, and they climbed aboard.
"You do much diving?" Charlie asked, as she waited briefly for the young man to secure the painter of the dinghy to the cleat on the stern of the boat.
"Whenever I can, Lady."
They both giggled somewhat childishly and grabbed at each other, shedding clothes and shoes as they stood in the rear cockpit of his boat. Charlie looked around and noticed a light on the boat not far away; the occupants could see them in the moonlight, she guessed. She had never been an exhibitionist; she suggested they went back to his cabin. As they stood naked at the foot of the bed, Charlie reached up and cradled his face in her strong hands. She turned his face toward her and asked,
"Do we know each other well enough to kiss properly?"
He lowered his head slightly to one side, his right, leaned forward and touched his lips gently onto hers. Charlie responded by pulling slightly on his face, her fingers slipping around to touch his ears and neck, increasing the pressure of the contact. Their mouths meshed, lips pouted and nipped gently at one another. Charlie relaxed her jaw and allowed her mouth to open. His lower lip slipped into her mouth, touching gently on her teeth. She sucked on the pliant flesh. She sneaked and snaked her tongue between his teeth, tasting his lips and tongue. She flicked the tip from side to side, savouring the sweetness of his flesh. The lingering flavour of expensive Cognac disguised the slight, but not unpleasant, taste of smoke.
