Aurora - Goddess of the Dawn

This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

*****

The rigid inflatable was swinging off its davits, a few feet off the water. Reaching inside, Beck unearthed a buoyancy vest and shrugged it on. Zipping it to the neck and buckling the waist strap, she fetched a second vest and handed it to Tanya.

"That's okay, Sweetheart," Tanya waved it off, "I can swim."

Beck tilted her head to challenge the woman from under the peak of her baseball cap. "No floatie, no boatie. It's the law."

"Whose law?" Tanya scoffed.

Beck thumbed herself in the sternum. "My law!"

"Can't argue with that." Tanya shrugged. Tugging the blue and yellow life vest on, she zipped it closed over her ample breasts while Beck tied the tender off and winched it down. Jumping on board, she cast off the davit lines and held the RIB in position while Tanya climbed in. Sitting back, Tanya watched the girl hurry through a checklist, dropping the small outboard, priming the fuel, lowering the throttle arm and slipping curly red dead-man chord over her thin wrist. With two body-twisting wrenches on the pull-start, Beck had the outboard sputtering at idle. She patted the floor next to her. "Sorry, Tan, you'll have to sit here."

Tanya obediently took her place opposite Beck, their legs entwined. Beck cast off, shoving the inflatable free. "You ready?"

"Aye, aye, captain."

Opening the throttle, Beck brought the inflatable up on the plane, squinting into the slipstream, one hand pinning her cap in place, a big white smile on her sun-brown face. Revelling in the role of master and commander, she powered around to the eastern side of the island, skirting the reef, surfing the waves and jumping the swell. Rolling off the throttle where the reef was at its narrowest, she putt-putted carefully over the fangs of coral, watching the sugar-white sand slope up from beneath. With a final burst of power, she beached the RIB and flicked the kill switch.

It was preternaturally silent after the raucous bark of the outboard. As she listened, Tanya could hear the breeze hissing through the feathery crowns of the swaying coconut trees, the crunch of a wave head-butting the beach, followed by the sigh of white-water retreating. "Stunning." she said, turning on the spot. "Just a pity we didn't bring any beach towels."

Beck unzipped her life vest and turfed it into the dinghy, then fetched a large plastic drum from stowage and spun-off the lid. "Like these?" she said, pulling a pair of bright, slightly tatty, but infinitely serviceable beach towels from the drum.

"Jesus." Tanya laughed. "Don't suppose you've got a spare pair of shades?"

Not bothering to look up, Beck proffered a pair of bug-eye polaroids. "These do?"

Tanya slipped them on and shook her head. "Goodness me. How about a nice gin and tonic?"

"All out of tonic I'm afraid." Beck replied matter-of-factly, upending the drum and shaking free a three-pronged grapple and twenty meters of yellow float-rope.

"Going fishing?" Tanya asked.

"Uh huh..." Beck nodded, getting to her feet, "for coconuts."

"Fishing? For coconuts? Wouldn't it be easier just to climb?"

Beck stood back, eyeing-up possible candidates. "Well I used to once, as a matter of fact. Until I fell out of a tree one day and Damon stopped me."

"Oh my god, were you hurt?"

Beck thought back to the joy of clambering, naked, up a tall, slender trunk, the breeze tickling her undercarriage. "No," her sunburnt cheeks wrinkled with a merry smile, "but Damon was. I landed on him."

Tanya giggled. "Oh, the poor man."

"Pity," Beck sighed, "I used to love it. I was good at it too."

Tanya looked around as if making sure the coast was clear. "Go on, then. I won't tell."

"Naah." Beck shook her head, "I'd be breaking my promise."

Shucking off her buoyancy vest, Tanya followed Beck up the gentle incline of the pristine beach. It was like stepping onto another planet. There was not so much as a footprint in the sand, though the tides had cast up a rich abundance of bio-undegradable detritus, from plastic bottles to Styrofoam fishing floats, from fragments of milk crate to cracked rubber flip-flops.

Beck pulled up under a palm tree, ten meters tall, a clutch of bulbous green coconuts clustered at the base of its crown. Pacing backwards a few steps, took a bead, swung the hook through a few tight revolutions and let fly. It sailed up and over in graceful arc, missing the target by a meter or so. Reeling it in, she tried again.

The hook eventually bit and Beck gave the line an exploratory tug, while Tanya stood beside her, shading her eyes. "That's got it!" Beck said, then stepped behind the tree, while Tanya held her ground, peering upwards in anticipation. "Umm, Tan," Beck said, "you might want to come around here. Where it can't hit you."

"Goodness." Tanya tutted, patently impressed, "You think of everything, don't you?"

"More people are killed by falling coconuts every year than are killed by sharks."

"Who says?"

"Damon says."

Tanya put her hands on her hips. "He sure does have a lot to say, doesn't he?"

"Only stuff that matters." Beck shrugged. "Ready?" She took up the slack and with much huffing and grunting pulled in an empty hook. Undeterred, she went through the whole colourful process again and in a couple of minutes had reefed down half a dozen coconuts.

"What are these for?" Tanya asked, helping Beck lug the booty back to the RIB.

"Curries mainly." Beck replied. "And the milk."

"Milk?"

"Coconut juice."

"You don't actually drink that stuff do you? We were warned never to touch it in Asia."

"Nuh uh," Beck shook her head, "it's totally pure."

"That's not what I heard."

"No, it's true. Unless the coconut is rotten or damaged. It's pure enough to use directly for an intravenous drip."

"Oh, rubbish."

"Nu uhh... Damon told me."

"Was he tripping?"

"Here, I'll show you." Delving into a second watertight drum, Beck extracted a rusty old machete and dropped onto the sand on her bottom. Deftly decapitating one of the coconuts, she bored a hole in the furry brown kernel and offered Tanya a sip. She shook her head.

With a shrug, Beck raised the coconut to her lips and poured half the contents down her salt-thirsty throat. Pausing for breath, she held it out.

"No thanks." Tanya said, "Not until it's been sterilised with Vodka."

"It is sterile," Beck reassured her, "honest. Here. Why don't you try."

"Okay," Tanya said then wagged her finger, "but I'm warning you. If I come down with Botulism you're in charge of the bedpans!" Taking a breath, she hoisted the big, fibrous flask to her lips. Half ran down her chest, but she drank deeply and then stood, smacking her lips. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "Why Becky. That's flippin' delicious!"

Beck's blue eyes studied her for hint of derision. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. It's... it's... it's flippin' exquisite!"

The girl choked on a smug 'I told you so' then took the coconut back. "Fancy some meat?"

Tanya blinked. "Some what now?"

"Coconut meat." Beck said patiently, wondering if the woman was teasing. Clamping the coconut between the soles of her slender brown feet, she patiently pared away the tough outer husk then hacked her way into the coarse brown kernel. Shaving off a succulent strip of bright white flesh she passed it to Tanya.

Eyes closed, concentrating, Tanya chewed for a moment. "Mmmmmm... MMMMMMM... Becky," she gushed, "this is fantastic! It tastes like... like... I don't know, like a nice Thai curry or something." Beck had a nibble but all she could taste was the same old thing she tasted every other day. Tanya shook the beach towel out and spread it on the sand beside her. "My God, Little Mermaid," she sighed, "you live such an incredible life."

"Hmph..." Beck sniffed, "you can talk."

Hand on the little blonde's shoulder for balance, Tanya crossed her legs and sat down. Reaching behind her back, she tugged at the bow securing her bikini top and her big, beautiful breasts bounced free, firm and round with stiff pink nipples. Beck opened her mouth to speak then closed it again, slightly embarrassed. Summoning her courage, she nodded at Tanya's treasures. "Those are beautiful."

"Really?" Tanya gave her breasts a loving fondle. "Why, thank you, Darling. Why don't you let your own girls out for a play?"

Beck crossed her arms. "They're not allowed." she mumbled bashfully. "Too little."

"Do'h," Tanya scoffed, "didn't anyone ever tell you? More than a mouthful's a waste."

Beck thought about it. The very sight of Tanya's pride and joy was making her groin tingle, they were just so... suckable. On the other hand, the woman's breasts were so full and perfect that her own little appointments seemed pitiful by comparison.

"It's not a competition, Sweetheart." Tanya said gently, as if reading her mind.

In a move as daring as any she'd made, Beck took a breath then reached around and pulled on the bow.

"There you go," Tanya winked, "that didn't hurt. And I don't know why you're being so coy. Those are gorgeous."

Not to mention deeply and evenly tanned.

Beck cupped her little round breasts, a scant handful each, their hard little nipples pressing into her palms. "I wish they were bigger."

"There's plenty of time, Sweetheart."

Looking down, Beck shook her head. "Mmm.. naah. I think they've stopped growing."

"Well I think they're beautiful. Bigger's not always better you know. It's all about quality, not quantity."

There was a heartbeat's silence, quickly filled by the sounds of the world... the whispering of the palm fronds overhead, the rumble of the surf, the far-off cry of a wheeling seabird. It was going on for mid-morning and the atmosphere was simmering as the sun rose to dominate the sky. "What will you do?" Beck eventually asked, "Roger and you? When Damon fixes your boat?"

"You think he'll fix it?"

"Damon? Oh, he'll fix it."

"You sound pretty confident."

"Look, I know Damon. You know what he always says?"

Tanya shook her head. "Lay it on me, Professor."

"There are no problems, only solutions. And no matter the situation there's always a way."

"He's quite a guy, isn't he?"

"He's the smartest human being I've ever met." Beck said, adoration in her big blue eyes. "You know he could have been be a millionaire if he wanted."

"Is that what he told you?"

"Nuh." Beck shook her head. "That's what I told him. But he doesn't want to be a millionaire, he said. He said he'd rather be out here, just sailing around having adventures."

"And you?"

The double entendre went wide. "Well what else would I do? Stay on land? No thanks. You know what Damon says? The land is for people who can't handle sailing."

"I'll vouch for that." Tanya muttered. "So what'll you do if he ever sells his boat?"

"Our boat. And he's not selling it, not ever. Aurora will be mine one day when he's too old to sail. Damon said so."

"And what happens then?"

"I'll knock him on the head and throw him overboard." Beck grinned. "Nahh... I'll do all the sailing while he does all the complaining. Opposite to what happens now."

Tanya's breasts bounced as she laughed. "Wouldn't you rather be living it up in the city?" she asked. "Shopping and travelling and going to parties? I mean look at you. Dress you up and you'd be a sensation. You'd be beating the boys off with a stick, I'm telling you."

Beck thought about it. She'd beaten her old man off more times than she could remember, but never with a stick. "No thanks..." she said, "...I'd rather be here."

"But what do you do?"

Beck felt uneasily as if she were being probed. "Oh... you know..." she said diffidently, "...stuff. Lots of sailing of course, that's always fun. We do lots of bushwalks and island exploring, and there's always plenty of work to do on the boat. We go fishing and swimming and hunting for crays. And I do my log while Damon does his writing. Don't worry, there's heaps to do."

Tanya stared pensively at the water for a moment, at the baby wavelets slopping onto the pristine shore, the glitter of sun on sea, at the cobalt sky and shimmering horizon. The vision filled her with a vaguely frightening sense of a vast and overwhelming emptiness. "Can't be doing much for your social life." she said quietly. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

"What's the point?" Beck shrugged. "And anyway, no. I love it out here, the peace and quiet. And the adventure!" Beck leant into Tanya and in a dramatic whisper said, "We found a crashed aeroplane once, from World War Two." Pausing, she looked around for lurking ghosts. "There was a skeleton in the cockpit. Of the pilot."

Tanya eyed her sceptically. "You're joking, right?"

"Nuh!" Beck shook her head. "He was on a tiny little island just off the shelf. We were probably the first people since the war to ever set eyes on him."

Tanya's skin turned to goose flesh. "Were you scared?"

Beck screwed her face up. "Mmm... nahh. It was more sad than scary. Just think of his poor family back home, never knowing what happened to him."

"Brrr... So did you tell the authorities? What did they say?"

"What for? They'd only go and disturb him. Grave robbers. That's what Damon calls them."

Tanya affected a shudder. "If that's what you call an adventure it's all yours. Dead people. They just don't do it for me."

Beck shrugged. The experience had filled her with a feeling of deep reverence rather than revulsion or fear. She briefly wondered who was the odd one out, she or the rich, beautiful woman.

"What else do you get up to?" Tanya carried on, hoping Beck would make reference to sex.

Beck's eyes darted furtively hither and yon and she was momentarily stumped. She and the old man had an unconventional relationship few could imagine let alone condone. He'd rescued her, fair and square, from the squalor and abuse of her previous life. But now they were runaways, fugitives in reverse, on the run, not from the law but the lawless. She liked Tanya immensely and understood the privilege of being shown her most intimate charms but, deep inside, she felt a pang of alarm. "Lots of things." she shrugged, weaving her hair into a thick, platinum plait. "Now and then we sail into storms, sometimes we end up becalmed. Stuff breaks, we get into arguments. It's just a normal life, Tan, in a different environment. I bet your life is much more exciting."

"You never get bored?" Tanya persisted.

"Boredom is a sign of low intelligence." Beck replied haughtily.

"Well that's me stuffed." Tanya sniffed. "Did Damon tell you that?"

"No." Beck shook her head. "I worked that one out on my own."

Tanya arched her back and raised her arms, stretching. "Not just a mermaid but a philosopher into the bargain. What else have you worked out, oh wise one?"

Beck stretched in a postural echo, reaching for the sky, exposing her pale underarms. "Every single moment is an adventure."

"Hmm..." Tanya replied. She was far more interested in Beck's adventures of the carnal kind but after all the gentle prodding she clearly wasn't going to spill. Laying back, hands behind her head, Tanya looked up through a shifting veil of palm fronds, at the huge blue dome of bottomless sky. She yawned. She'd gone back to her husband after watching the neighbours having sex and spent the rest of the night fucking him senseless. If only the girl could know the pleasure she'd given them. "Why don't we snooze for a minute or two?" she said, then yawned once more. "What do you say, Little Mermaid?"

Beck lay down beside her, just touching. "We've got half an hour before the tide turns." she replied sleepily, without consulting anything other than the sky. She yawned.

"Wonder if they've fixed the boat?" Tanya intoned.

Beck nodded. "Damon will fix it. He can fix anything."

* * *

The spare impeller Watson unearthed was too short in the shaft and too long in the stiff, rubber vanes, but after hours of trimming and filing, the spline of the jury-rigged spare slid smoothly into the dead engine's drive pad. A tiny bit of excavating and the pump housing was coaxed into place, then left while the liquid gasket cured. Watson was mercifully left to his own devices for much of the time, while his host sat huddled over the nav table, tapping away at his computer, self-important and clueless in equal proportion. A study, should Watson ever need one, in contradictions.

In the process of tightening the last of the hose clamps, Watson heard the thump of the Rigid Inflatable's nose against sixty-footer's swim platform, followed a moment later by the sound of female voices. By the time they reached the companionway, Bragg was standing beside the old man, slapping his palm with a spanner, peering at the alien technology as if it actually meant something.

Watson looked up as Beck slid down the handrail and landed with a thump on the floor. "What took you?" he groused. "Did you have to grow the bloody things?"

Tanya came down beside the girl and draped a protective arm over her shoulders. "Hey! We were doing chick stuff, weren't we Beck?" Beck giggled as the woman hugged her warmly to her flank. "You boys finished with your boy stuff yet?"

Bragg gestured with his chin at the six-cylinder diesel. "We managed to get the, err... thing fitted."

"The thing?" Tanya clapped her hands. "Really? You clever boys!"

"Don't start celebrating yet." Watson said darkly, "That's only the half of it."

"What's the other half?" Bragg asked, taken aback. Surely fitting the 'thing' should be sufficient.

Watson shot him a sideways glance. "The hard one. Un-seizing the pistons."

Bragg rubbed his jaw, nodding shrewdly. "Oh, right. Not looking forward to that."

Beck broke free of Tanya's embrace. "Can I have a look?"

Bragg waved her over. "Of course you can," he said, crouching by the engine, "here." Taking her by the wrist, he manoeuvred her past him, doing his best to be as much of an obstacle as possible. Beck's bottom squashed into his chest as she hurdled his legs to wriggle past, and Watson was sure Bragg was about to pass out. Kneeling between them, Beck leant into the engine bay, while Bragg took a bead on her little bare breast through the arm-hole of her singlet.

"That's a big one." Beck said, and Bragg's eyes rolled back.

"Do you know which bit's the water pump?" Watson asked.

Beck tapped a greasy housing with a pink-painted fingernail. "Is this it?"

"That's it. Remember. Make sure you don't mix up the inlet and outlet. See those arrows on the face of the housing? Those are called idiot marks. They're called idiot marks because idiots don't take any notice of them and install the thing ass-about."

Beck was nodding. "Does this one use sea water or fresh water like ours?"

"She's got raw-water cooling."

"Is that why she seized?"

"Nope. Even heat exchangers still need seawater."

"What's this bit?"

Watson looked past Beck at the goggle-eyed Bragg, and past Bragg at his wife. Bent at the waist, hands on her knees, she was grinning at her husband's frank consternation, at the same time giving Watson an eyeful of her down-hanging breasts. "You tell me." he replied.

"Looks like a fuel pump."

"Bingo."

"Wow, it's just like ours but on a much bigger scale."

Watson couldn't be sure, but he suspected Bragg might have more than just a pair of expensive boxers inside his designer cargo shorts. In an effort to test his theory, he patted Beck on the thigh and jerked his head. "Shove over, Chook. Let's go and give that flywheel a spin."

Sure enough, when Bragg was forced to his feet he remained doubled over, hands propped on his knees, pretending to study the engine. Ten minutes later and he was still unable to straighten. Watson, in the meantime, searched high and low for a crank handle before remembering the boat was almost brand new. Fitting a socket over the flywheel nut, he snapped on an extension and gave it a heave.