As the people around me began to settle, so did I. The cabin was dark, the swaying of the deep bellied boat lulled me to sleep. I pulled my black bandana over my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I put an arm over my bound chest. My long, frizzy hair was a welcome pillow. The velvety green darkness enveloped me as my mind slipped.
It seemed only seconds passed before I woke.
The tall, blue eyed man before me whispered, "You're shift," he mumbled, pushing me out of the hammock roughly.
I leapt out before he could do any real damage, and headed up the narrow stairs and through the trap door. As I stepped onto the deck, I was washed in silver. I wiped my eyes with a sleeve, deciding It was going to be a bad night. I trotted along the ships starboard side, my hand brushing against the thick wooden railing. The captain was fast asleep by the steering wheel, the owls feather in her cap twitched in the salty ocean breeze. I smiled as I watched her chest rise and fall gently.
I felt the rope tug at my hands as I scaled the rough netting. The crows nest on this ship was much larger than most. When I made it to the top, I hauled myself over the taller sides and onto the large platform. It had slits throughout the round wall to see through, but if you stood you could see above as well. The thick black masts snapped, the wood straining. I looked down at my captain from there, she was small from this high up. I held up a hand, putting her between my thumb and forefinger.
Suddenly, I felt something cold prickle on my neck. I jolted, the boy behind me took a step back.
"I like your bandana," he smiled slyly. I touched my head without realising it, tracing the white skull and crossbones dyed on. I felt him reach up and tuck a stray hair beneath my ear, until, that is, he realized there was too much hair to actually find my ear. His hand dropped then, but his fingers brushed by my chest before they truly left my body. I felt heat tingle down from my rigid nipple and pool in my crotch. I quickly turned away, fighting my petty urges. I watched the dark horizon.
It was an hour before anyone spoke, and the heat between my legs slowly grew. I felt myself brush past the wetness with a soft finger. I grimaced as I realized I could smell my own lust. He could, too.
"Lynx," he called my name. I met his eyes squarely, a challenge. "Yes," I kept my voice short and taut.
"My name's Jakaa," he reached a dark hand out. I extended my own and shook it. My skin was a dark olive tone, but compared to his, I was as pale as the queen of england's teeth.
"I know who you are," I took a step closer. "You're a scoundrel."
