Inda Mine

Dedicated

To Chris.

My Editor, Mentor and Proof Reader.

Preface

Kinda Mine was originally written as a short story but has subsequently grown into a Six Chapter Novella. Friends and Followers may have already read the first 3 Chapters.

This story is written in a contemporary style meant to explore love, relationships and loneliness through emotion and symbolism.

Mandy is on her sailing yacht anchored in a harbour in Grenada where she finds herself abandoned by her partner and struggles to adapt to a solo sailing adventure.

If you do take the time to read it, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working on it.

"In a world where you can be anything, be kind." Unknown

Kinda Mine

Chapter 1

Kinda Mine

Whisping clouds reached across the evening sky grasping at the light, wicking up bright colours of red and purple from the weary sun setting in the distance. One by one the shore birds surrendered the beachhead to the darkness, disappearing into the mangroves to find a branch to roost on until dawn. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore created a soothing melody, interrupted by the occasional chorus of tree frogs arguing with crickets in the estuary. A faint breeze carried their whispers along the sandy shores of Grenada, while the once bright colours in the sky began to fade in the dying light, and supergiant orange stars began to twinkle, like sapphires lost in time, scattered across the black fabric of the universe.

Mandy crossed her legs, pulling her sarong across her lap and folded her arms under her breasts before she settled back into her folding lawn chair on the white sand beach. The voices around her merged with the debate going on in the estuary as she stared into the bonfire, the flames teasing out memories of the last three months. She grappled with disordered thoughts, created by the turmoil of the past few weeks, but she began to convince herself that she was glad he flew back home. He complained nonstop, he was seasick most of the time and he was as lazy as a sea slug.

The warmth of the fire and gentle ocean breeze soothed her spirit for a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the tranquillity wash away her troubles. Uncrossing her legs, she shifted gently, the aluminum frame creaked, the sun-bleached cushions readily conforming to the movement of her curves while she wiggled her toes into the warm sand. The sound of the voices around her fell away and Mandy was at peace, listening to the gentle rhythm of the waves against the shoreline.

There was a sudden pop from the fire, a spark flew up, Mandy's eyes snapped open just in time to see a glowing ember floating off until it had consumed itself, vanishing somewhere in the night. She stared at the spot where the spark had died, her eyes adjusting to the darkness just beyond the warm firelight.

"Mandy."

"Mandy!"

"Mission control to Mandy... do you copy... over." Drew's voice penetrated the void.

"Yes, haha, sorry," Mandy giggled softly when she realized she was lost in her own reflections.

"You okay Mandy, you're a bit more pensive than usual," Drew said in a doting tone.

"Oh sure, I'm fine. I was just thinking about Derick."

"Yeah, well, screw that guy. No one seems to be able to figure out what you saw in him anyway. You two had about as much in common as an angelfish and a sharksucker. I don't recall meeting anyone with less ambition than him. He was just a boat anchor and you already got one of those, you don't need two," Drew added, shaking his head slowly and furrowing his brow with disdain.

"That may be true, but somehow, in my head, I saw things working out a little different than they did."

"Yes, I know what you mean. It's easy to create some dime-store fairytail in your mind about how things are going to be, thinking you can sail off into the sunset and live happily ever after but reality is a different kettle of fish, especially on a sailboat. When you take someone out on a sea trial for a couple of months in a thirty-eight-foot sailing yacht, you'll soon see every leaky porthole and hatch there is, because there's no hiding that shit out here. Close quarters is the real acid test for everything, especially relationships."

Mandy pursed her lips and shrugged, her gaze drifted back to the fire and she watched the flames licking the driftwood while she let Drew's words settle in the darkness. After a moment, she lifted her eyes and forced a smile that was lost before it reached her eyes. Drew tilted his head, firmly pressed his lips together and nodded, recognizing her discomfort.

"You're right Drew, but it's not as though I'm guilt-free. I'm as much to blame as he is, maybe more. I should have taken him out on a few short trips first, to see if he had any sea legs, besides, I probably expected too much, so it wouldn't be fair to shift all the blame."

"Well, even if that was true, which I don't think it is, there's a take-home lesson there; you live and learn... we grow more from the things we did wrong as opposed to the things we did right. You're a bright young lady, you'll do just fine, I promise," Drew leaned in closer, glancing at his wife and shielding his mouth before he whispered, "Look at the bright side; you're cruising solo in paradise and free of encumbrances, free to spend your time as you please."

Drew suppressed a laugh and paused for a moment, waiting to see if his attempt at levity had lightened the mood before he straightened up and continued on in a serious tone.

"Anyway, it might not be the course you expected but if you want my humble opinion, it's a better one for you, for the time being anyway."

"Speaking of a new course, are you guys heading out tomorrow?" Mandy asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I think so. PredictWind is saying light winds and fair weather for the next week so we're gonna catch the breaks where we can get 'em," he said as he watched the smile melt from her lips, "We really hate to bail on you but I have to be back in Miami next month or they're going to fire my stupid ass. You're gonna meet us up at BVI if you can, right?"

Mandy nodded as her eyes drifted back to the fire.

"Yes, I'd like to come with, but I'm still waiting on my order from StarLink so I'm kind of committed for another day or two. I talked to the Post Master this morning and he has a trace on the package. I don't know what I'll do until then, maybe explore the island a little more... do some snorkelling... maybe clean the hull, see how many critters are stuck on the boat that are gonna try to slow me down."

She paused, her eyes wandering to the stars dancing across the waves in the bay. Drew pursed his lips and nodded.

"You'll be fine, stay on the mooring ball here until you set sail, and give me a shout when you get to BVI. I'll come out in the Rib and help you anchor, or dock... whatever you decide."

Mandy looked away and scanned the night sky, searching for the Southern Cross and Orion's Belt. She'd been sailing with her father since she was a gaffer. She had a Yachtmaster Certificate and she was confident in her skills, she could find her way with a sextant and paper charts if she had to. She didn't need a chart plotter, GPS, and StarLink but they made life easier, and safer. It was almost 34 hundred nautical miles back to Nova Scotia and she was nervous about being single-handed on such a long voyage.

Drew opened his mouth as if he was about to speak but no words came. He just sighed with resignation, studying Mandy's expression as the warm fire glow danced on her cheeks while the evening breeze carried the subtle scent of hibiscus and wild orchids from somewhere over the dunes.

Chapter 2

The Post Office

At sunrise the next morning, Mandy huddled in the cockpit of the Beneteau 38 that she called Kinda Mine, wrapped in her woollen Hudson's Bay blanket, waving Drew and his wife off as they set sail for the British Virgin Islands. She took a sip of her coffee, soothed by the feeling of the warmth in her hands but still sad to see her friends leaving. That's the life on a sailing yacht; you make some friends, people you connect with, but at some point, they sail off on their next adventure and all you can do is wish them a Bon Voyagé.

Mandy watched the headsail billow on Drew's sloop until it disappeared around the point, then gazed out over the turquoise water of Mount Hartman Bay, the silence and still water were a stark reminder that she was alone. Kinda Mine rocked gently in the morning breeze, the mooring lines creaked softly, carrying the weight of the tug of war between the anchor and the bow cleat while the boat swayed. Mandy's eyes drifted to the instrument panel and the black screen of her Chartplotter before she checked the time on her FitBit.

She had the day all planned; she'd bike to St George's for 1 o'clock, pick up her package at the Yacht Club, an hour there and an hour back. She'd be back on her boat by mid-afternoon, have the electrician wire everything up and she could be underway by Wednesday, if everything worked out and the weather forecast didn't change.

Mandy beached her dinghy at noon and unfolded her commuter bike, pedalling off the sandy beach and onto the roadway with purpose. She inhaled deeply, savouring the simple joys of paradise as the scent of blooming flowers and lush foliage filled the air while she rode past the scattered beach houses, their boldly coloured shutters and doors fearlessly contrasting the beige tones of Kinda Mine. The sound of the tires spitting gravel across the road echoed down the path. The road began to wind its way up the hill, Mandy shifted gears, feeling the familiar burn of lactic acid building in the muscles of her thighs as she pedalled.

The road levelled out when she reached the top of the hill, the heat rose from the asphalt intensifying the sun's rays but the sight of St George's off in the distance inspired her to pedal faster. She stood up on the pedals for leverage, feeling the worn leather saddle between her thighs, the bike's sprocket clicking smoothly as she picked up speed. She reached up to wipe away the beads of sweat from her forehead and smoothed the wayward strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, thrilled that she didn't have much further to go, looking forward to collecting her package and maybe stopping by at the Yacht Club for an ice-cold Coke.

She leaned her bike against the wall of a building that said, "Parcel Pick-up". The metal sign clattered softly on the hooks that held it in place as Mandy's eyes explored the windows of the small, sunbleached building for some proof of life. A rusty spring on the front door groaned and complained as she made her way into the building, a bell clanged overhead announcing her arrival as she stepped inside. The room was hot, muggy. A scent of cardboard and dust wafted up, carrying with it the aroma of freshly brewed coffee that made her stomach growl, reminding her that she skipped breakfast.

"Hello! Anybody home?" Mandy called out in a cheerful sing-song voice.

A little man rushed out from his office to the front desk, brushing the lapels of his white smock and nudging his glasses to his brow.

"Oh, hey. Good afternoon... umm," he spoke, snapping his fingers and pointing at her before he looked her up and down, from her butternut yellow toenail polish to her emerald green sarong and her white string bikini, "Mandy Right!?"

"That's correct! You have an excellent memory Bob," she said in a flattering tone.

Bob was the Postmaster. He was a short, middle-aged Englishman who wore Coke-bottle-thick glasses with the overall physiognomy of Dustin Hoffman as Louis Dega in Papillion. Everyone called him Blind Bob but Mandy couldn't bring herself to draw attention to his infirmity, so she just called him Bob.

Bob's eyes lit up behind his thick glasses as he rummaged through a stack of packages.

"Nah... my memory isn't so great, I just remember what I want to, and, I did see something come in with your name on it. Ah, yes! I have it right here," he said, his voice filled with excitement before he pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper and twine.

"Oh bless you Bob! I'm so glad that it's here! All my plans are hinging on that package. I have an electrician scheduled to come and hook it up this afternoon, so I should be ready to sail by Wednesday," Mandy's eyes widened as she took in the sight of the box.

"Brilliant! You'll be leaving us then huh," Bob said as he wrinkled his nose to adjust his glasses.

"Yes, I'm meeting Drew and his wife in BVI, hopefully by the weekend if everything works out. Derick flew back to Nova Scotia and I don't like being solo out on Mount Hartman."

"Ahh... Gotcha. It's kind of spooky out there for a young lady on her own I suppose... Will you be able to manage this on your bike?"

"Oh sure, I can just strap it down on the rack. I'll be fine, thank you for asking."

"Right-O then... That'll be $125."

Mandy's eyes widened.

"$125?" She managed after a long pause.

"That's correct Ma'am... $2500 with 5% duty is going to be $125, COD, cash on the barrelhead."

"Really? What do you mean? I've picked up stuff here before and there was no duty."

"Correct. There's no duty on gifts but this is a US import so there's a 5% duty," he continued.

"Oh for gosh sake. I only brought 5 dollars cash for a Coke, I left everything else in the safe back on the boat!"

Mandy's mind reeled and she was filled with visible frustration as she rummaged through her small beach bag, hoping to find some misplaced debit card or credit card. The soft fabric of her sarong swayed in time with her hips, drawing Bob's eyes to her young thighs once more. She didn't notice Bob ravaging her until she looked up at him. His head tilted slightly, his eyes scanning her figure and lingering on her breasts as he hoped upon hope that he would see a nipple... if only she would lean forward a little more.

"Bob, I'm so sorry, I didn't bring enough money to cover that," she said, looking up at him shyly, "I didn't realize there'd be a duty."

"Yes, more's the pity, but there's no need to worry... I'll just hold it here for you and you can pick it up another day," he said firmly.

The air in the post office seemed to thicken as Mandy studied his face with pleading eyes and blushed. Bob watched her expression for a moment before she noticed his eyes drifting down to her breasts once more. She shifted her weight, the soft fabric of her sarong brushed her thighs, she cleared her throat, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Is there... I'm sure there's a way we can resolve this right now. Tomorrow is going to be too late. I could sign a promissory note, I have my Passport. I really need that package. I'll pay you later. I'll e-transfer you the money when I get to BVI," she continued.

"Well, don't you know my little zwag... I've been here a long time and I've heard that before, once stung twice shy as they say," he said in a contemptuous tone, realizing that he might have chanced his way into a bargaining opportunity.

"Bob, please," she replied pleadingly, "I'm not trying to cheat you. I'll pay you as soon as I get to the next port, I promise."

"Really? Cross your heart? Pinky swear? No chance, you young yachties come wandering through here, year after year all coy and shy, playin' Blind Bob for an old fool... I might be blind but I'm not stupid, so that's a flat-out no... but, I'll make you a deal and it's the only deal. I'll make the duty go away if you give me a handjob... either that or I hold your package," Bob chuckled when he recognized the irony in his word choice, "Get it? You hold my package or I hold yours?"

There was a long silence as Mandy stood, her eyes wide with cold dread creeping over her, coming to grips with how the once mundane and harmless Post Office, had suddenly become a den of sleaze and exploitation.

"Fine," she said, her voice firm and resolute. "A quick tug then."

Bob's grin faded, he wrinkled his nose, nudged his glasses to adjust his line of sight before he regained his composure.

"Really!?" He said, his eyes glowing with surprise.

"Yes... agreed... right here? Or... where else can we go, the bathroom?"

Bob glanced around the post office before he rushed to the front door as fast as his legs would carry him, hung out the "Sorry, We're Closed" sign, peeking out before he drew the blind. Overcome with desire, he hurried back, catching Mandy's hand and led her into his cluttered office. A single incandescent bulb swayed slowly on an extension cord hanging from the ceiling, a harsh sliver of sunlight peeked into the room through the curled edges of the window blind and an odour of ink and glue hung in the air. Mandy's heart pounded, her eyes darted around the room when he closed the door and she heard the latch click in the lock, feeling trapped.

He moved in front of the desk, his eyes never leaving her round ass, and gestured for her to step forward. Mandy's legs were shaking when Bob stood at attention in front of her, nudged his glasses up with his knuckle and examined her breasts closely with his big bug eyes before his hand went under her sarong, groping her cheek. His pupils dilated and his mouth hung open, gulping air, his chest heaving. Mandy's hand instinctively went to the hem of her sarong, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric as if seeking comfort.

"Okay, whip it out," Mandy said, tilting her head, looking at the mildew stains on the ceiling... at least she hoped they were mildew stains.

Bob's hands trembled with excitement as he fumbled with his zipper, Mandy heard the clicking of his belt buckle and the ripping sound of his zipper, then a thud when his belt hit the worn, shiplap floor. Her toes curled up from the sudden vibration and her eyes widened, startled at the muffled sound of pants hitting the floor, laden with his wallet and keys, echoing throughout the small room. Mandy's gaze remained fixed on the mildew stains, her mind racing with anxiety and a hint of clinical curiosity.

Bob cleared his throat, the sound gruff and expectant, putting his hand on her ass again. She could feel his eyes on her, burning with anticipation, but she refused to look down. She waved her hand in front of him until his erection brushed her wrist, her hand instinctively grasped the shaft of his cock. Bob shivered, gave a shuddering sigh, his head lolled and bumped Mandy's shoulder. She thought he was going to faint.

"Are you okay Bob?"

"Yes," he managed a moan, still shivering as he tried to stand up straight.

Mandy's hand caressed his cock, her fingers skimming the length of his erection before pushing his foreskin back. Bob's head drooped, resting his chin on his chest, watching his cock standing proudly against her small hand.

"Hup... hup... hup!" Bob chugged like an old paddlewheel steamer.

Bob stood at attention, afraid to move, solely focused on the warmth of Mandy's hand as she gently gripped his rigid cock. His nostrils flared and his chest heaved with every breath as Mandy tugged at his erection with a gentle caress. His head fell back, his eyes cast toward the stained ceiling and the veins in his neck stood out, his cheeks burned red while his hips thrust in desperation. She could feel the heat of his lust percolating up from deep inside and the perspiration from his balls while he fucked her hand, her grip tightened, causing the ridges and veins to rise before he suddenly lurched forward, cumming, holding Mandy's ass, standing on his tiptoes and desperately thrusting his hips, forcing the head of his cock against her thigh.