The Doldrums: the Sailor and the Virgin

In which Miss N. makes a request, and is overwhelmed by the answer (mf)

Night had fallen, and the lass yet remained behind her closed cabin door.

When she had fled below, Liam had instinctually hurried after her, but had stopped short in the companionway, restraining his urgent desire to take her in his arms again. His body was breathless with elation - he could scarce think, save upon what had just passed. She had kissed him! She had kissed him! Could it possibly be that she shared his feelings?

He had made himself go instead to the galley where he set the kettle on to boil, then to his cabin to remove his wet trousers. As he dried himself, he again felt the sensations of their kiss, of her lovely body in his arms. He felt nigh dizzy from the flux of aching excitement surging from his chest to his cock. "Oh Miss Novikov..." he whispered.

Back in the galley in dry clothes, he had prepared a cup of tea, putting a spoonful of sugar in it, as he had observed her do. He had carried it to her cabin and knocked softly upon the door.

"Miss Novikov, I've made ye some tea...to help warm ye." There had been no response. "Miss Novikov?" He waited, then said, "I'll leave it upon the table out here, if ye want it." He had covered it with a plate to delay its cooling. Back upon deck he had stowed the tools and lit the running lanterns. When he had returned to the main cabin, the cup of tea was untouched.

Now it was suppertime: Liam stood in the galley, looking across the cabin to her door. He was too agitated to feel hunger - but mayhap some nourishment would tempt her out. Opening some food tins, he prepared a quick plate, adding a biscuit warmed upon the stove. Again he made his offer outside her door; again he was met with silence. "'Twill be upon the table, Miss, should ye want it," he said a little wistfully.

He lingered about the common area, first in the cockpit where he went through the motions of taking readings with the sextant, then at the chart table, doing calculations to plot their position - although he already knew it well. She did not emerge. At last he conceded defeat and went to his cabin.

'Twas past his usual hour for retiring, but he could not even contemplate sleep, so jittery was he. In the warmth of the cabin he removed his boots and pulled his braces down. He sat at the desk and spread out the Rochester newspaper from Monday, his eye briefly caught by articles as he turned the pages, but he could not attend to the words.

His mind was swimming with her - it seemed expedient to confront her with his aspirations now, given the evidence of her response...was it not?

He again had to check his eagerness: her withdrawal did not encourage this line of reasoning, and the last thing he wished was to offend her. Could he have misread her actions? Mayhap her reaction had merely been a natural rush of emotion wrought by her brush with death. Had he taken advantage of her vulnerability? Was she affronted by his forwardness?

There was a quiet knock upon his cabin door. "Mr. Thomas?"

Liam hastily stood and snapped the braces back over his shoulders. "Come in," he said, striving to compose himself.

The door slowly opened; she looked in cautiously, then spotting him, stepped just over the threshold. She stood in the open doorway, her hands clasped together, hidden inside the sleeves of the ulster, her posture resembling that of a nun, he thought ironically. The resemblance was of course belied by her uncovered head - her beautiful flowing hair and her luxuriant eyes that he found so provocative.

They were a few paces apart, he standing by the desk, she at the door. Neither spoke. After the initial meeting of their eyes, her gaze dropped. At last she spoke, her voice hesitant. "Mr. Thomas, I...I want to thank you for saving my life this afternoon. It was very foolish of me to go into the water. I did not know how cold it was. I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you."

He shook his head. "Dinna apologize, Miss. I was glad to be of service to ye."

"You have come to my aid so many times now...I am indebted to you."

"Well... I need ye to finish repairing the sail. 'Twas my leading consideration." He caught her eye and winked. To his relief she smiled.

Silence fell again. Liam noticed that under the hem of the nightgown her feet were bare. She seemed to sense his perusal, and self-consciously covered one foot with the other. Again he was assailed by the urge to speak what was in his heart.

"Mr. Thomas..." she trailed off, her hands twisting in the sleeves. "Mr. Thomas, may I stay in your cabin tonight?" Her eyes at last met his.

Liam was confused. "Be there something amiss in your cabin? I can fix it, or ye can have one of the other two cabins."

She shook her head. "May I stay here tonight...with you?"

He was dumbstruck. She could not possibly mean...? He searched her face for her intent, but her eyes had again chased away. His hand tightened upon the edge of the desk. Swallowing hard, he tried to respond. "Do ye want to...do ye mean...?" At a loss for the appropriate term to use, he turned his head pointedly to the berth, his eyebrows raised.

She nodded. He could see the blush start in her face. His body thrilled - his heart pounded, his breathing became uneven. He yearned to immediately bear her to the bed, but he sought to temper his exhilaration, gripping the desk and inhaling and exhaling slowly. When he spoke, he could not hide the excitement in his voice. "Are ye...did ye ever...lie with a man?"

"No."

"Do ye ken what that means?"

She looked at him, lifting her chin. "I know that the man... goes into the woman," she said, sounding defensive. Her blush had deepened.

Fighting against his body's every instinct, he struggled for rational thought. He looked away from her hypnotic beauty, down at the mahogany desktop. He trusted not his own feelings, nor hers. He could not take her virginity as recompense for saving her life. At length he said resignedly. "I canna do it Miss. Someday ye will marry - and ye'll want to keep your...virginity...for your husband."

She shook her head, her face calm, intent. "No. I love you," she said simply.

He had never felt the like of the joy that swelled all over his body. In two strides he was standing before her. He looked down into her upturned face, his body swaying with his urge to embrace her. "Oh Miss, I canna tell ye how happy ye have made me...from the moment I learned ye were a lass my heart has been bursting thinking on ye." He stared into her shining eyes. "Will ye tell me one thing?" he asked. "Will ye tell me your given name?"

There was a pause, then she said softly. "Anya."

"Anya...Anya," he felt the name in his mouth - 'twas like a lovely sigh. "'Tis a most bonnie name, for a most bonnie lass." He smiled at her. "Mine be Liam...no more 'Mr. Thomas'."

"Liam," she tested it. He nodded, savoring the movement of her pretty lips upon his name.

"Will ye not come in Anya?" He drew her completely into the cabin and closed the door behind her. Knowing not how to proceed, he spoke in an anxious rush. "Will ye sit? Can I take your coat?" Her hands appeared from the long sleeves and unbuttoned the ulster. Standing behind her he lifted it off her shoulders and turned to hang it upon a peg in the bulkhead.

When he turned back, the white nightgown was uncovered. As she stepped further into the cabin, the lantern light revealed through the delicate fabric the outline of her alluring body - the sinuous line from her waist to her hips, the slim legs, the junction of her moving thighs. Liam was staggered. This must be another dream - 'twas too sweet to be truth. He jabbed his thumb sharply into his finger to wake himself, but, merciful God, she was still there.

She moved slowly about the cabin, her curious gaze taking in the books upon the shelf, his list of tasks for himself, the drawings upon his desk. He watched her, adoring her presence in his cabin. When she again faced him, they looked at each other - she seeming as nervous as he.

He cleared his throat. "Will ye...will ye have some wine?"

"Yes please." She smiled timidly.

He eagerly began searching the lockers, by and by finding a small bottle of port. "I only have one cup here," he said, uncorking it. "I'll fetch another from the galley."

"Cannot we share the cup?"

"We can." He nodded; he did not want to leave the cabin, lest he return and find her vanished. He handed her the wine first; she tasted it with little sips, both hands holding the cup. "Oh, it is sweet...how delicious!" She took another draught before handing it back to him.

"Will ye sit Anya?" he invited. She looked about - there was only the one seat at the desk.

"Where will you sit?" she asked.

He considered. "Will ye sit upon my lap?"

She looked up at him shyly and nodded. He sat at the built in desk seat and held his arms out to her, whereupon she turned and cautiously sat crosswise upon his lap. All at once he felt the tickle of her breath upon his face, her warm, sweet weight upon his thighs, and found himself meeting her eyes from a foot away. In that brief moment, he read the confusion of excitement and apprehension in her big eyes, then her gaze nervously dropped, her cheeks blushing anew. Suddenly the cup of port was a welcome distraction, and he offered it to her.

He put one arm round her slim back, moving aside her long hair, and shifted her subtly upon his lap, sensing the shape of her bottom and legs with his thighs- 'twas even more gratifying than that first day, with her now full awake and no heavy coats between them. As she drank, his eyes caressed her face, sitting as she was, nigh level with his own. The darkness of her eyebrows and lashes contrasted vividly with her white skin, and in the lantern flame the amber shone in her brown eyes. He watched her soft pink lips brush upon the metal rim. Handing the cup back to him, she asked him what he was reading in the newspaper.

"Oh I read papers from all the large cities near the lakes, when I can get hold of them. I do be looking for news about levies and regulations that affect my business, and for ideas on new ways to use the boat." As they passed the cup back and forth, he turned through the newspaper, rambling on, scarce aware of what he said, so overwhelmed was he by her nearness.

He stole downward glances as he spoke. The white nightgown was modestly buttoned all the way to her throat, but the simplicity of the garment only enhanced the sight of the fabric pushed out by her full breasts. Under his hand upon her back, he felt the thin cotton rumple against her skin, confirming his supposition that she wore nothing underneath. Indeed, as she moved, he caught intermittent glimpses of her breasts through the fabric.

When he paused to refill the cup, she pushed the newspaper aside to look at his drawings under it. "What are these?"

"Plans for installing a steam engine aboard. I'll need to modify the storage lockers aft of the cockpit." He showed her the manufacturer's diagram of the engine with its measurements.

"How does it work?"

He went on to explain the principle of the engine, pointing out parts upon the diagram. When he arrived at the description of the action of the pistons in the cylinders, he began to turn red himself, so excited was he at the thought of what would be passing between them that night. She did not notice his reaction, and he saw that in her innocence she was insensible to the imagery.

A feeling of apprehension grew in him, heightened as she passed the cup to him and he appreciated anew the marked difference in size of their hands. He had never bedded a virgin, and never a lass so petite of figure. All of the females with whom he had had carnal relations had exclaimed over the size of his organ - it was of goodly length, but 'twas its remarkable thickness had particularly excited their admiration. What if the attempt to copulate with Anya should do her serious injury?

Realizing that she had turned her face away from the desk and towards him, his voice trailed off. She stared at him, her eyes alight, and her hand came up to touch his face. Her fingers ran slowly over the stubble upon his jaw. "Liam," she whispered. Then her hand moved to his shoulder, a look of wonder upon her face as she felt through his shirt the muscles there and in his chest. He caught her hand in his and held her palm to his heart, where the rapid beat was palpable. "Anya... I love ye" he breathed. Their eyes locked, and this time her gaze did not shy away from their intense communion. Her eyes shone, and he saw her lips part slightly. He squeezed her hand upon his chest, and his other arm tightened round her back, drawing her closer till they shared the warm halo of their breaths...closer yet... till he tilted his head to hers, saw her dark lashes lower... then their lips met, scarce touching.

There seemed a hushed, enchanted pause...then he pressed his lips full to hers - how soft and warm they were! Her arms went round his neck, and she responded with eager, though innocent kisses. Liam could hold back no longer: his mouth moved upon hers, his kiss growing more and more forceful. Both his arms were round her now, pulling her body tight against his. When he slipped his tongue between her parted lips, he felt her start with surprise; his embrace tightened, and plying her with slow, heady kisses...caressing her lips with his tongue, softly nipping at her full lower lip with his lips... he succeeded in opening her mouth and sliding his tongue along hers. He thrust his tongue in the sweet wetness till she began to respond in kind, her tongue playing with his, tentatively at first, but becoming progressively more passionate till their mouths fed hungrily upon each other - he bent her backwards over his arm, her hair spilling onto the desk. Squirming and arching against him, she abetted his efforts to press their heated bodies together as closely as possible with her sitting across his lap.

His cock was stiff now against her buttock, his body urgent...over the nightgown his hand slid down from her back, his thumb skimming over the rounded side of her breast, over her waist and hip and along her thigh. All at once he sat up, breaking from the kiss, scooped his hand under her knees, and stood.

He carried her in his arms the few steps to the berth, where he let her legs down. He reached for the top button upon her gown - he paused, looking down into her eyes; he found no evidence of hesitation. His large, impatient fingers fumbled upon the tiny buttons, while she undid the buttons at her wrists, then assisted him, starting at the lower end of the placket. Their fingers met in the middle at the last button and it was done. Grasping the edges of the opening he drew them out to her shoulders, the deep vee of the open placket rising to span them. Then it dropped, catching momentarily upon the peaks of her breasts and her hips before falling to the floor.

He looked into her eyes before his gaze descended. She stood stark naked before him, nigh an arm's length away, timorous under his scrutiny. His breathing grew rapid as he gaped, at last at liberty to indulge his cravings without inhibition. Her lilting figure flowed marvelously from her high, round breasts to her slim waist to her curved hips. Her skin was creamy in the lantern light, punctuated by the pink, uptilted nipples and the dark daub of fairy floss upon her mount, those lures so irresistible to a man's eyes. As if in a trance, he pulled down his braces and removed his shirt.

Under his heated perusal she grew increasingly abashed - her glance flicking down to his tightly tented trouser front. The blush spread from her face to her breasts. He decided to keep his trousers on for the moment, lest he frighten her away. Her hands started to waver in front of her body, but he caught them in his.

"Dinna hide yourself, Anya." He held her hands out to the sides, and pointedly looked down at her nakedness. "Ye are the most beautiful lass I've ever beheld - a goddess ta be sure." His hands glided up her arms to her shoulders, where he gently brushed locks of her hair back.

Slowly his fingers slid down from her shoulders - he could see that her breasts were trembling. Indeed, his hands were nigh trembling themselves as he held his breath and ever so lightly traced his widespread fingertips over her pale round orbs - feeling the smooth skin, the proud contour - before drawing together over the delicate peaks. He cupped her breasts in his palms, lifting and squeezing them to marvel at their warm springy weight... even more delectable in his hands than he had ever imagined.

Her breathing had quickened under his touch; she was watching his face where his monstrous desire was full writ. His fingers sought out her nipples...brushing softly back and forth over them till he heard her breath catch. Looking into her face he lost himself in the limpid entreaty in her eyes. Oh love! He dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her into the berth.

As she scooted further in to make room for him, he swiftly rid himself of his trousers. Then he was in the berth and bearing her down to the mattress, their naked bodies at last meeting. His tongue claimed her mouth, and his hands, like a starving man at a sudden feast, roved over her succulent unclad treasures - her hair...her neck...her back...her breasts...her bottom...her hips - his magnificent cockstand knocking against her thighs. He felt her timid hands upon his chest and back.

Rolling her to her back, his lips traveled down from her mouth, nibbling in the warm sweet hollow of her neck, making her laugh and twist her head back and forth...but when his mouth moved lower to the swelling flesh of her breasts, she inhaled audibly. He nuzzled over one luscious hillock, then into the valley between, then up over the other...avoiding her nipples... his open lips just barely grazing her soft skin. How delicious was her fragrance! As her breathing became more uneven, he could feel her breasts quiver under his mouth.

At last he approached a beckoning rosebud - he raised his eyes, delighting in the amorous glow of her face - then he lowered his head and slowly licked her nipple. "Oh!" she gasped. He repeated the caress - the supple peak tilted slightly under the push of his broad, wet tongue, then sprang back upright. He proceeded to lick and swirl his tongue upon it, while he clasped her other breast in his hand, gently squeezing the warm flesh.

Anya was sighing now, her fingers twined in his hair. Under his lingual attentions her nipple grew stiffer and stiffer...now he drew it between his lips and ever so softly sucked upon it, tugging and laving at it. Presently his fingers replaced his mouth, strumming over the aroused wet bud, as he kissed his way to her other breast and treated it to a like play with his lips and tongue. With the increasing agitation of Anya's hands in his hair, Liam raised his head, and, propping himself upon an elbow, lay upon his side next to her, his turgid organ pressed against her hip. Both her nipples now stood taut, glistening with his spittle.

His lips hovered over hers, his fierce eyes holding her gaze as his hand started to roam downward from her breasts. He dallied momentarily in the oval indentation of her navel-eliciting a nervous giggle - before sliding gradually down her flat belly, till his fingers at last encroached upon the little cluster of curls atop her mound. She started and her cheeks flushed, but he would not let her look away. He toyed with the soft, bouncy hair, petting it and twirling his fingers in it. Then he cupped the graceful rise of her mound in his palm, two fingers curling to follow its curve between her thighs as far as he could with her legs together. "Anya," he breathed, his lips hovering over hers.