Aye Aye Captain Jack

I prefer to write in first person narrative. But then it's hard to write about what's going on in the other character's head. Here, I attempt write both characters' perspectives, switching back and forth. Each perspective overlaps the other so we can see how each character experiences the same scene, just a little differently, and the spoken dialog is necessarily the same. Yes, that's repeating part of the story. But then, don't we always like to rewind and replay the good parts?

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Jack:

"Son of a bitch!" I yell, at no one in particular. Then I notice the short, young woman on the dock with a backpack nearly as big as her, and a shocked look on her face. "Excusez moi mademoiselle. J'étais impoli."

"Not at all," comes her reply. "I'm just surprised to hear someone swearing in English."

"Oh, you're American."

"Canadian actually."

This exchange is taking place at a marina in Cannes on the south coast of France.

"Really, I'm truly sorry. I'm readying the boat to sail, my grandson was supposed to crew with me, but just texted that he's met some girl and he's following her off to Spain. I can manage solo, but it's nice to have extra hands when things go south. What do you know about sailing?" I'm really just joking.

"My dad's got a Tayana 42," she replies. Then, pointing to the lines in the cleats, "Main halyard, jib halyard, reef, outhaul, boom vang, ..."

Well maybe I've got my crew after all. I look her over. Seems to be in her 20s. Dressed casually, and simply - shorts, sneakers, and a baggy t-shirt. Short hair, no discernable makeup, fingernails short. All good, 'cause high maintenance women and sailing don't mix. "You're hired. It doesn't pay much. Just room and board."

"I didn't know I was applying for a job. But you've got a nice boat here."

"It's not mine. I'm just moving it for a client from here to Sicily."

She hesitantly looks back up the dock toward downtown, then back to me. "I was actually just killing time before catching my next train. But I'd love to go to Sicily. And this would beat the hell out of youth hostels and train couchettes."

"Welcome aboard!" I say, extending my hand, both in greeting and to help her step across to the gunwale. "I'm Jack. Jack Farrow. Kind of like the pirate. And you are?"

"Ooh, a real Captain Jack!" and taking my hand, "First Mate Clara, reporting for duty, sir."

Standing in the boat's cockpit, she's a foot shorter than me. Her hand is small and soft, and I hold onto it longer than necessary, suddenly reminded of how long it's been since I've had some female companionship. But no, I've got to be older than her father. I could probably be HIS father!

"It's not as big as your dad's boat. You'll have to settle for the single berth in the salon. It's too short for me, so the private V-berth up front is all mine."

"That'll be fine," she says. "You may have noticed I'm small."

Indeed I have! I like my women small. Then I can toss 'em around in bed.

"We need to walk up to the market to pick up some food and other provisions, maybe some fish for tonight, as it may be our last fresh protein for a few days. I hear they're catching a lot of squid right now."

"And some wine or beer, I hope," she adds.

"Of course, my dear. But we hit the hay early tonight to get a good start in the morning."

"Aye aye, Captain Jack!"

Clara:

I didn't plan on this. I was going to take the train to Italy anyway. But sailing! The Mediterranean! To Sicily! Adventure! Robert Frost's road less travelled!

I look back at -- damn, I don't even know his name, much less anything else about him -- he doesn't seem too threatening. Old. Wise. Hair is silvery white. Facial stubble to match. And he does have a gentle twinkle in his eye.

"I was actually just killing time before catching my next train. But I'd love to go to Sicily. And this would beat the hell out of youth hostels and train couchettes."

"Welcome aboard!" he says, extending his hand. "I'm Jack. Jack Farrow. Kind of like the pirate. And you are?"

"Ooh, a real Captain Jack!" And taking his hand, "First Mate Clara, reporting for duty, sir."

"It's not as big as your dad's boat. You'll have to settle for the single berth in the salon. It's too short for me, so the private V-berth up front is all mine."

"That'll be fine," I respond. "You may have noticed I'm small."

I take off my backpack and drop it at my feet, then descend the steps into the boat's salon. I turn to grab my backpack and Jack's already handing it too me.

"We need to walk up to the market to pick up some food and other provisions, maybe some fish for tonight, as it may be our last fresh protein for a few days. I hear they're catching a lot of squid right now."

"And some wine or beer, I hope," I add.

"Of course, my dear. But we hit the hay early tonight to get a good start in the morning."

"Aye aye, Captain Jack!"

I drop my pack on my berth to unpack later. First gotta get to the markets before they close up.

Later, at the markets, as Jack said, lots of fresh squid. "I can make a pretty mean calamari scampi." Jack smiles at that. We also grab some produce along with some canned and dry goods. And several bottles of wine. Gotta have wine with scampi!

Back at the boat, I start cooking while Jack ties up a few more loose ends. Then we settle down to a sunset dinner in the cockpit.

"Where in the U.S. are you from?" I ask Jack.

"Seattle."

"Really! I'm from Vancouver."

"Well, we're practically neighbors."

Noting a wedding ring on his finger, I tease, "So, Jack, what'll your wife think about you sailing around the Mediterranean with a hot, young thing like me?"

He's quiet. Only looking down at his scampi.

Jack:

Damn, this scampi's great. The squid is just right, tender, not overcooked. And it's a beautiful evening and a pretty young woman to share it with.

"So, Jack, what'll your wife think about you sailing around the Mediterranean with a hot, young thing like me?"

Jeez, I didn't want to go there. At least not until we'd got to know each other better. And maybe not even then. After a pause, I look up. "I lost Laura a few years ago. Cancer."

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pried."

Poor Clara looks horrified. I reach over and pat her on the arm. "It's OK. Time's healing the wound. When she was diagnosed, it was pretty far along. The doctors didn't offer much hope, but she was a fighter, and I wanted to back her up."

"Jack, we don't have to talk about this."

"Really, it's OK. You may as well know since it's kind of how I ended up here on a boat in the south of France."

"And how's that?"

"We'd planned on kicking off retirement sailing around the world. But instead we threw ourselves into fighting the cancer. Trying therapies the insurance refused to cover. So we paid out of pocket, depleting savings, ultimately selling the boat. No more round the world trip." I take another bite of squid. "Then a sailing buddy pointed me to this outfit. They match people with boats to move to people like me crazy enough to move them. I sailed around the Caribbean for a bit. Then did an Atlantic crossing, which is where I brought in my grandson, ending up over here. So maybe I get to sail the world after all."

"Just not with your favorite girl."

"But you're a welcome change from that good-for-nothing grandson of mine. Prettier, too." She blushes. "So, Clara, what amazing chain of events brings you into my life?"

Clara:

I feel terrible. Poor Jack. Lost his wife. Lost his boat. Lost his dream.

"So maybe I get to sail the world after all," Jack concludes.

"Just not with your favorite girl."

"But you're a welcome change from that good-for-nothing grandson of mine. Prettier, too. So, Clara, what amazing chain of events brings you into my life?"

Glasses empty, I pour us both some more wine. But I resettle closer to Jack because it's getting cooler, and can use him to block the breeze. And steal a little body heat.

"I finished grad school. And broke up with my boyfriend at the same time. I needed some breathing room before joining the rat race, so what the hell, let's bum around Europe for a while. Got a rail pass and an open-ended plane ticket. Flew into Amsterdam, and worked my way south. I was here in Cannes, going to catch a train to Italy. Or maybe Monaco to find a rich prince to marry. I had a few hours to kill, and because of my own sailing, was drawn to the marina."

"Which is where you caught my colorful language."

"It was a pleasant surprise to hear someone speaking in English."

"You know, Clara, we're at opposite, but similar places in our lives."

"What do you mean?"

"Once you immerse yourself in your career, it's hard to break away for an extended period. You only have time before you start or after you've retire."

The conversation wanes. We're both getting sleepy. But there's still some wine to finish off. So we sit, listening to the clatter of halyards on masts, the calls of the gulls, the distant murmur of people in the restaurants and bars. Getting cooler, I scrunch in closer to Jack. He senses my chill and puts his arm around me. He's starting to feel like an uncle to me. Maybe more like grandfather. A sexy grandfather. I've always been drawn to older men. And I don't mean just 10 or 20 years older; more like 30. Or 40! Damn, give me a George Clooney. Or a Richard Gere. Or a Sean Connery. They can bang me all night long! I don't know if it's the wine or Jack, but I'm starting to feel a little seduced by the situation in which I've put myself.

"Well, Clara, looks like the wine's gone, it's getting late, and I said I wanted to get an early start tomorrow."

Spell broken. "Aye aye, Captain Jack."

We do the dishes without much talking. Then bid each other good night, and Jack closes the door to his cabin. But I think I know what I'll be dreaming about tonight.

Jack:

After trading our stories, Clara is now sitting close to me.

"You know, Clara, we're at opposite, but similar places in our lives."

"What do you mean?"

"Once you immerse yourself in your career, you can't break away for an extended period. You only have before you start it, or after you've retired from it."

She seems cold in the night air, so I put my arm around her to warm her. Her hair smells great. Her arm feels soft. Damn, I haven't been with a woman for a few years, and not with one so perky and supple for a few decades. I don't know if what I'm feeling right now is appropriate with someone more than 30 years younger than me. Do I act on my feelings? And reveal the letch that I am? Do I let an opportunity slip through my fingers?

"Well, Clara, looks like the wine's gone, it's getting late, and I said I wanted to get an early start tomorrow."

"Aye aye, Captain Jack."

After quickly doing some dishes, I retire to my cabin, and climb into bed. But I don't fall off to sleep easily because I'm thinking about Clara, so close, but so far.

--- Day 2 ---

Jack:

Next morning, a quick breakfast, a quick check of the weather, and we cast off. We motor out of the marina to where there's some room, and I tell Clara to take the wheel and keep us pointed upwind while I raise the sails. Then we cut the engine and sail close hauled tacks out to the straight between Cap de la Croiselle and Île Sainte-Marguerite. It's a bit choppy and we're both getting sprayed. Once in the straight, we fall off on a beam reach to the east, less chop, more relaxing.

"I like to hug the coast," I say. "Something to look at, and safer if we need to duck in somewhere."

"Ooh, I'll get to Monaco yet and nab my prince!"

"Sorry. We won't be stopping there. Can't afford the moorage fees."

Clara pouts.

"Besides, I'm thinking of putting in at Villefranche-sur-Mer, a little short of Monaco. There's a nice bay that should give us a protected anchorage. Cheaper than tying up at the docks all the time."

We're making good time, and it's getting warmer. We shed our morning jackets and we're down to shorts and t-shirts. Clara stretches out in the cockpit and hikes up her shorts to her panties. Then she does the same to her shirt, up to her bra line. Finally, she rolls her sleeves up over her shoulders. She says she wants to soak up some sun. Which gives me a chance to soak up some Clara.

Now I've always been on the skinny side. Well, except my belly creeps up on me once in a while. And it's always been skinny women I've attracted. Laura was slim, like all the women before her.

But Clara's curvy, and in all the right places. Her thighs look slightly muscular, her belly soft and creamy. Now that she's lying down and that baggy shirt lies against her boobs, it's clear that she's got a more than ample set. I don't really know, but I'd say a D cup. Probably more. Certainly more than enough to swallow my dick in her cleavage. Wow. Jack, ol' boy, you may have gotten yourself into a world of frustration.

Clara:

We're underway. What a glorious day. I'm glad I signed on with Jack. And maybe not just for the sailing. Ha! I decide to catch some sun. And show Jack a little skin. I'm such a tease! Can't tell if he's looking; can't see his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Lunchtime. I go below to slice up some bread, fruit and cheese, and bring it back up to the cockpit to share. As we eat, and for a while after, it's my turn to look at Jack. He's tall and slim. And hairy. His forearms are weathered and, although not a lot there, it's all sinewy muscle, no fat. The hair on his arms is darker than what's on his head. And he's got some vein activity goin' on there. Something about veins on a man's forearms really does it for me. Reminds me of the veins on a hard cock. Goosebumps! And I love holding on to a man's forearms as he's sliding that hard cock in and out of me, those cock veins rippling the walls of my pussy. Damn, I'm getting wet just thinking about this.

Before long, Nice comes into view, we'll be in our anchorage in no time. Soon we fire up the engine, I again point us into the wind, while Jack drops and secures the sails. Then we push further into the bay and find a calm spot to drop anchor. After we've readied the boat for the night, Jack says he wants to shower off the salt spray from earlier in the day.

"But I like my man tasting salty."

"What's that Clara?"

"Nothing. You can shower first. I'm going for a swim!"

As Jack disappears into the head, I fold down the swim ladder, shed my clothes, leaving them folded on the seats, and dive overboard. Nope, no swimsuit. When in the French Riviera, do as the French Rivierans! It's only later, climbing back up the ladder, that I first notice the boat's name painted on the stern, Faire L'Amour. Oh my. Are the stars are aligning or what?

Jack:

Good to be cleaned up again. Seems Clara's still swimming. I open up a tin of anchovies and start putting together a marinara sauce for pasta. I hear Clara climbing back onto the boat. Coming down into the salon, she pats my ass with a quick, "Hi Jack." Holy shit! As she ducks into the head for her shower, I see that she's butt naked. And she looks amazing.

Eventually, she's cleaned and dressed, and the pasta's just about done. She comes up beside me, puts an arm around my waste, and says, "Looks good. And it looks like red wine tonight," which she quickly procures and sets about uncorking. Soon enough, we're eating in the cockpit.

"Jack, I'm really glad I decided to join you."

"Me too, Clara. I couldn't have asked for better crew. Or a better looking crew."

"Sorry about traipsing past you in the nude earlier. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? You left me speechless."

"You don't approve?"

"I approve. It's just that ..."

"Oh, so I had an, uh, effect on you." She's giving me a naughty grin.

"Yes. No. Can we talk about something else?"

A long drawn out, "Aye aye, Captain Jack." She asks what I did before retirement. I was an architect, mostly civic. Boring things like schools and such. I ask what she wants to do back in Canada. She's not sure. Something tech related and entrepreneurial, maybe environmental.

I'd rather be talking about us. But I can't do that. With an age gap like this, an older man can too easily creep a young lady out. They're like kittens. Reach for 'em and they run away. Sit still and they come to you. Then again, she's pretty flirty. Maybe she is coming.

The sun's already behind the hill to our west. "Jack, can I sit close to you again? It's cold again tonight."

"Sure. I'll warm you up." Man, I'd like to warm her up.

She scoots in close to me and puts a cold hand on my thigh. "Sorry, my fingers are going numb."

I put my hand on top of hers, and she puts another hand on my arm. I'm now drawn to her hands. You often hear about foot fetishes. For me, it's hands. Hers are small with slender fingers. That's a turn on for me. I like small fingers holding my dick, so small they just barely go all the way around. Makes me feel bigger than I am.

That did it. Now I'm getting hard.

Clara:

"Oh, so I had an, uh, effect on you." I'm amping up the tease.

"Yes. No. Can we talk about something else?"

No, I want to talk about this. "Aye aye, Captain Jack."

We're blabbering on but I'm more focused on some building chemistry.

"Jack, can I sit close to you again? It's cold again tonight." That always works.

"Sure. I'll warm you up."

Got him. I rest my hand on his thigh. "Sorry, my fingers are going numb." It's weathered like his arms. He's now put a hand on top of mine, so I put my other hand on that arm. That arm. With the veins.

He's shifting his butt around. Is he getting hard? I slouch down to lower my elbow, 'accidently' slipping into his crotch in the process. Paydirt! He's hard as a rock!

"Uh, Clara, it's getting late, and we got a long day ahead. I'd like to get a ways into the Italian coast tomorrow."

Damn. I liked where this is going. "Aye aye, Captain Jack."

So, we clean up the dinner dishes and once more return to our berths. Alone.

But in the dark, under the blankets, I'm still focused on where the night might have gone. Where I wanted it to go. I feel Jack's hand inching down into my panties. It's cupping the whole pussy, from the mound above my clit to down below my vagina. Gently squeezing. Massaging. My labia is swelling, opening, and his fingers find their way between the folds of moist flesh. He's pressing the heel of his hand on my clit while one of his fingers begins sliding into my vagina. Now he's moved his whole body down between my legs. I can feel his breath on my vulva. Then his lips, tugging on my labia. Finally his tongue in the center of my pussy, sliding up to my clit. Oh God, he's sucked my clit in between his lips. At the same time, his fingers are working on the roof of my vagina. Oh, I'm so sensitive. This double onslaught always pushes me over the edge. I'm cumming! I'm throbbing all over. Whimpering. I bite the blanket, hoping it will muffle my sounds, hoping he won't hear what I'm doing. And all too soon, it's over. Do I go for a second? I dare not.

Jack:

God, she's pushed her elbow right into my dick. It hurts, but it hurts good. She's got to know how hard I am right now. But she's not letting on. Head spinning. Do I push this forward? Do I act like a gentleman?