For the members of the Mariana Yacht Club, the Fourth of July means a Lightning regatta, rum tasting, cook-out, dance and fireworks. Leah Shaw had been crewing for Wynn Boxlightner on Afterglow since she was 16 and this would be their 8th Fourth of July Regatta in as many seasons.
Now 23, Leah had grown up. Having lost her virginity two years before at college to a Columbia Lion, she had come to view Wynn, who had been a close and loving father figure, in a very different light -- a distinctly erotic light. The previous fall at the International Lightning Regatta in their shared quarters in his camper, they "came about" and did, as they say, what comes naturally. Although Leah knew he was married, she had no thought that he would give up his wife and family to marry her. Excited about the turn their friendship had taken, they agreed to continue not only as great friends, but also as lovers during the away regattas.
That casual arrangement meant to Leah that she was is still free to be on the prowl for "Mr. Right." The 3-man crews of the other Lightnings in their home fleet offer a fresh crop of able-bodied men to cruise every summer. Muscular tanned bodies with sun-streaked hair, often stripped to the waist and slick with sweat, add to the scenery, if ultimately nothing else. And who knows? Perhaps some day a summer romance will turn into a steady thing.
Afterglow's third crewmember, Harry Whitcliff, who is a long-time friend of Wynn's, was not interested in her, she reasoned. Harry prefers lithe rich girls, which she is not. He may like watching her ass as she crawls up on the foredeck and seeing the contours of her tits with hardened nipples through her wet tee soaked with the cold sprays. But dating her, she was sure, did not enter his mind.
Camaraderie among skippers and crews of the Lightning fleet develops easily. Banter and boasts fill the air in the boatyard as everyone makes ready to launch for this, the third race of the season. The top rivalry is between their boat, Afterglow, and Evan Goode and his crew of Up & Coming, consisting of himself, his wife Angela, and a new guy, Cal Farnham.
Cal, 30, had been Evan's college roommate, frat brother and lacrosse teammate and now is a contractor enjoying his recreation as foredeck man. He is a handsome man--strongly built at 5'10" with thick black hair, a broad smile and sparkling dark brown eyes.
Cal liked Leah from the first moment he saw her. The song that goes, "Five foot two; eyes of blue; and oh, what those five feet can do!" was definitely written about the likes of Leah. Wearing her racing attire, sun glasses, a white tee-shirt and blue denim Daisy Dukes, she is an eyeful for Cal. Noting her thick reddish brown ponytail topped by her trademark hot pink visor, he guesses she weighs about 135 pounds. He likes Leah's hour-glass figure accented by her big tits, round bottom, and strong, shapely legs. A man lucky enough to embrace her soft grace, he thinks, will know he is touching a real woman, the kind of woman a man can hold onto and really fuck and not worry about being stabbed by a bony hipbone.
"Hey, Leah, you guys ready to get beat this year?" Cal yells from two boats away across the yard.
"Sure!" she yells in reply. "Just the other day Wynn's wife, Barbara, was complaining that their mantle is so full of hardware that she's run out of space for new trophies. Furthermore, she's sick of polishing the shit. Too bad there's nobody here that can take us." Leah jibes.
"Well, I'm Evan's foredeck man now. There'll be a new regime soon. Mark my words," he counters wagging a finger at her.
"Big talk for a new boy," she quips broadly grinning.
Leah, who has been fixing the jib to the forestay, stands up, turns her ass towards Cal and shakes it. "See this?" she says pointing to her butt.
"Who could miss it? It's big enough!" Cal snipes playfully.
"Yeah? Well, get used to the view, pal. It's the one you'll be looking at as we cross the finish line every week," she says laughing and patting her bum.
Leah had been flirting with Cal the previous two race weekends. He seems to be a nice guy, being both smart and good-natured. Leah loves a man with a big sack, and Cal's jeep shorts show off a good-sized package. Last weekend, when he was sucking down a beer in the yard after the race, he had one leg slung over the centerboard trunk; and she caught a peek up the leg of his shorts of his cock resting on his thigh. Even at parade rest she could see that it was sizable. She stood there nonchalantly chatting, looking at him and it until she finished her own beer. She wondered if he knew he was hanging out. She also wondered when he'd get off the dime and ask her out. She'd love to give that cock a good sucking and a ride.
Today's race is a screamer for the 14 boats that vie for position at the starting line. Bright sunlight glints on blue water frothing with white caps whipped up by the 10 - 15 knot winds and knock-downs gusting to 20. Everyone's life-jacketed ass gets soaking wet from the spray and hanging out over the rail on the high side. On the windward legs shouts of "Starboard!!!" are followed by an emphatic cuss or two and a "Hold your course!" or "Ready about!" that can be clearly heard to leeward as the heavy air carries the sound across the water. On downwind legs shouts of "Luff!!!" or "Coming up!!!" are followed by scrambles and shouts of "Sheet in!!!" or "Responding!" as the crews of windward yachts scramble into action, easing spinnaker poles and quickly, but cautiously, sheeting in.
At the end of the race, the order over the finish line is as predicted by Leah: Afterglow first, followed by Up & Coming. She is tempted to moon Cal, but she settles for merely standing up on the foredeck, winking at him and slapping her right rump cheek a couple of times as the boats approach adjacent slips at the dock.
The wind is with the tide so all crews are busy dropping their mainsails and coming to the dock under the jib only. Over the line first, Leah steps onto the dock bowline in hand and ties up as Harry drops the jib. She is soaked to the skin and when she sheds her lifejacket, her wet white tee and soft-cup cotton bra are transparent. With the arrival of the other boats, she assumes a casual stance, holding the headstay and fending off with her foot, all the while pretending she is unaware that she is showing off her tits. She knows their predominantly male crews are liking the view. She tries to look some of them in the eye. Some of the married guys and guys that have known her since she was a child look away embarrassed; but, amusingly, a couple of the guys either at the tiller or on the foredeck are distracted enough that their boats bang the dock.
Wynn and Harry smile as they know exactly what Leah is about. They shake their heads and smirk as they take off sails and get ready to pull the boat out. At the evening party they will be sure to give their friends the business about staring at Leah's tits -- especially those whose boats hit the dock.
By 3 o'clock the boats are secured in the dry-sail lot on their trailers and the sails have been folded, bagged and put away in their lockers. Cal catches up with Leah as she crosses the yard on her way to her car. "Leah, coming tonight?" he asks.
"Wouldn't miss it! And you?" she asks.
"Me either. Meet me at the rum tasting at 6?" he asks hopefully.
"Be delighted," she smiles thinking to herself, "Finally, he's asking!"
"And," he continues, taking her hands and facing her, "stay with me for the cookout and the dance through the fireworks?"
"I think that would be fine," she says responding brightly.
"It's BYO-Steak for the cookout, and I bought a huge porterhouse that I'd like to share with you. Okay?"
"Okay."
"And I bought a bottle of Beaujolais and some scotch and soda. Share that, too?"
