The two women were just strolling along the pier. It was a pleasant day and they were young and carefree, up for a bit of a lark if anything fun came their way.
What came their way was a yacht. It was tethered to the seaward side of the pier, the owner having not bothered to sail around the pier and into the protected marina.
The girls stopped to admire the boat. She was a pretty little thing, easily handled by a one-man crew, but big enough to allow a two-man crew.
Marianne considered the little boat and observed to Ellen, "We could handle a boat like that. With the offshore breeze we could be out in the bay before anyone knew we were going."
Ellen thought the idea over. There was no-one around. They were both quite skilled at yachting, having been out a number of times. "What would we do with the boat after taking it?" she asked.
"There are other piers," observed Marianne. "We could just pull into one, tether the boat and walk away."
"We could, couldn't we," laughed Ellen.
The young women looked around. No-one was paying attention to them. They looked at each other. They were of one mind and, without having to speak about it, they turned and stepped down onto the boat.
Ellen cast off while Marianne pushed the boat further out onto the water. Running up the sail, they caught the wind and were away, the small yacht skipping nimbly across the waves.
Ten minutes later they were well off-shore, enjoying the experience and slowly heading down the coast, intending to eventually pull into shore and moor at a convenient exit point.
Several other yachts and motor-boats were out and about, but the girls were experienced enough to be able to keep clear easily. It was just them and the sea.
They heard the roar of a motor-boat approaching and, on looking around, Marianne saw a boat with skier approaching. Not on a collision course, as the boat would pass well to starboard, but the skier would be a lot closer than she liked. She kept a close eye on them, in case a sudden tack was needed to avoid an accident.
Then the motor-boat was past and curving away, while the skier was close to them and waving at the pretty girls.
"Show off," though Ellen as she watched the skier curving closer to them.
Both girls were taken by surprise when the skier dug his skis deeper, forcing a change of direction and putting him right next to the yacht for a moment. They were even more surprised when he dropped the towrope, took a hold on the yacht and swung lightly aboard, apparently having hit the quick release on the skis, leaving them behind.
Marianne glared at their sudden visitor. He was a big burly man, well muscled and tanned, around forty five.
"What do you think you're doing," she demanded. "You can't just board someone's boat like that in the middle of the bay."
"I can when it's my boat," came the cold reply. "Did you think I'd let a couple of cheap thieves steal her? In your dream."
The girls looked at each other, suddenly feeling slightly sick. Being caught hadn't entered their minds.
"We weren't actually stealing it," Ellen explained. "We just wanted to borrow it for a sail. We were going to bring it back and moor it again, honest."
"Borrowing is when you ask and get permission. Taking it without letting anyone know is called stealing," came the scornful reply. "Do you seriously mean that you intended to take it back to where you found it, knowing that the cops might be there?"
At the girl's embarrassed silence, he nodded grimly. "Thought so. You intended to flog it or just leave it moored somewhere where anything could have happened to it."
"What are you going to do?" asked Marianne nervously.
The man smiled grimly. "That depends. Are you adults or juveniles. You look old enough to be adults but this is the sort of stupid stunt I'd expect a kid to pull."
"We're adults," stated Ellen indignantly. "We're both twenty. Really, do we look as though we're adolescents?"
"You act like it," came the critical retort. "What I'm going to do now is head over to port a little, towards those bhoys, and then I'm going to drop anchor while I check out any damage you idiots might have done."
"We're good sailors," protested Marianne. "We haven't done any damage to your precious boat. Just had a little ride was all."
"Not good enough sailors to have learnt you don't steal other people's boats," retorted the irate owner.
"I'm Rodney, by the way. And you are?"
"Marianne" and "Ellen" came the mumbled replies.
"Well, Marianne and Ellen, are you decent swimmers?" asked Rod, as he lowered the sail and let the anchor drop.
The girls turned to look at the distant shore and turned back to look at Rod. The shock on their faces all the evidence he needed that the swim was beyond their capabilities.
"So it looks like you're stuck here with me, aren't you?" observed Rod, grinning nastily. "What am I going to do? I assume that you don't want me to sail back to the marina and hand you over to the police?"
The girls were both shaking their heads at this, finally realising that they were really in trouble. If he pressed charges they could be arrested. Probably would be. They'd have to go to court and everything.
"I somehow didn't think you would. Not that the alternative is going to be very palatable for one of you. While I check out the boat, you two can take off your bikinis and stash them in that locker. After I've finished checking everything, I'm going to check out your bodies and then have sex with one of you. You can consider it the boat hire payment. And don't try to decide which one will be giving me the payment. I'll do my own choosing when I'm ready."
"You can't do that," protested Ellen. "That would be rape. We'll report it to the police."
"It won't be rape," Rod returned. "It's payment for services rendered. The services being the use of my boat. More along the lines of prostitution, I think the cops would say. You give me sex and I pay with a boat ride. Then you cry rape because the ride isn't long enough, or you wanted some money as well."
Ellen looked at Marianne. "What do we do?" she asked. "If we report him and he spins that tale we might get arrested. If we refuse he can have us arrested for stealing the boat. But if we agree and he has sex with one of us, is that still rape?"
"I don't know," wailed Marianne. "But I don't want to have sex with him. Look at him. He's enormous and he's old. I can't have sex with an old man."
"I heard that," called Rod. "Forty five is not old. It just makes me old enough to know how to really screw you."
"Don't ask me to volunteer," Ellen, "Look at that bulge of his. He'd probably tear me to pieces."
"No volunteers required, girls. I said I'd pick the one I want when I'm ready. And why haven't you got your bathers off yet?"
"Because we're not taking them off," cried Ellen. "We are not going to stand around naked in front of you."
"You are, you know. If you're not both naked by the time I finish the inspection I'll assume that you've decided to take your chances with the police.
Alternatively, if you are both naked, I'll assume that you've decided that taking a fifty percent chance that it won't be you getting screwed is worth it."
The girls looked at each other, back to where Rod was checking the boat and back to each other.
"What do we do?" hissed Ellen. "I don't want to be raped by that hairy ape."
"Do you think I do?" snapped Marianne angrily. "But the police are a one hundred percent guarantee of trouble for ages, and probably a criminal record. One of us getting screwed by him is far better than both of us getting screwed by the cops."
In a mood of quiet desperation, Marianne reached up and untied her bikini top, starting to strip it off. Ellen groaned, and reached for her own ties.
Seeing the girls had finally got their act together and decided one sacrificial lamb was better than two, Rod finished his inspection. He was quite pleased to note that the girls had actually taken care of everything and appeared to have done everything right.
Looking over to where the girls stood, naked, but trying to hide behind their hands, Rod laughed and casually stripped off his own bathers.
Watching Rod walk toward them, nude and with his erection standing proudly before him, the girls were practically quivering in trepidation.
