The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley

by Jacqueline DeGroot

I look down my list. “Well, I haven’t tried out number four yet.”

  “Give it a whirl.”

  “What’s the sexiest thing you ever saw?”

  He snickered and then without hesitation he answered, “My best buddy kissing his wife goodbye. If I get the chance to know you a little better, maybe I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Mmmm, okay. Well then . . . do you smoke?”

  “Acigar every now and again, but only if the occasion merits it.”

  “Do you drink?”

  “C’mon, I’m Irish, so it’s a cinch that I certainly know how to tip a few. But I don’t drink to excess—a glass or two of a good port, a few pints of a hearty stout, maybe a sherry here or there. My job prohibits me from over indulging, even on my off time, and since there are so many rules about it, it’s just easier not to on most days.”

  I have been watching him, mesmerized by his expressions, looking at his face and noticing the shadow of a beard that was absent this afternoon but is clearly there right now. When he stops and looks at me and gestures at the paper, I jump.

  “Oh. Let’s see, what’s next? Oh, music. What kind of music do you like?”

  “All kinds really, except the loud noisy stuff that makes no sense lyrically or musically. I like opera, and jazz and ragtime, and I’m Irish so I have to like ballads. Even spiritual music is good to listen to sometimes . . . oh and Elvis, I really like Elvis, especially his early days.”

  “And do you read?”

  “All the time. Mostly historicals and autobiographies, but occasionally a good mystery grabs me.”

  “What was the last movie you saw?”

  “3:10 to Yuma, I think. I like American cowboy movies.”

  “What do you like to do when you’re not working?”

  The bell dinged.

  “Fuck.”

  “Oh, I guess there’s no time to answer that q qquestion,” I stutter, not sure I had heard what I thought I had heard.

  “I just did. I like to fuck beautiful women.”

  “Whoa! Hmm, and you were doing so well.” I tsk tsk with my tongue on the roof of my mouth and shake my head like the schoolteacher I once was. And then I pretend I am crossing his name out rather vociferously on the paper in my hand.

  He laughs and stands, pulling me up with him. “C’mon, let’s get out of here, if we both leave, they’ll still be evenly paired.” He takes my hand and expertly leads me out of the lounge and through the ship.

  “I have to go to work in a few minutes, so forgive me if I’m rushing things, but c’mere, I’m going to die if I don’t kiss you soon.” He pulls me into an alcove, pushes me up against the wall and brackets me in with his forearms on either side of my head. His gray-green eyes bore into mine as his hand slides over to cup the back of my head and his thumb outlines my ear. I am frozen in place, yet melting on the inside as his head lowers to mine. I watch as his eyes tell me that I have no choice, that he’s going to take this kiss whether I allow it or not. I am not sure this is wise, but I have never wanted any man’s kiss more. I tilt my head up and part my lips defiantly.

  He doesn’t let my sudden brashness deter him from doing things his way. He barely touches his lips to mine as if savoring the first contact before pressing firm, nipping kisses in slow increments completely over mine. With great care he separates my lips with his and then pauses, teasing me before he uses his tongue to rim the inside of my top lip. It is the most erotic kiss I have ever experienced. My ego soars as he groans and then his arms wrap around me and he pulls me closer. With a fevered abandonment that I don’t think either of us was expecting, his tongue delved deeper, probed further, and tasted more hungrily. When his tongue touched mine we were both gone. The kiss became frantic and not so much playful as panicked, for we both know we don’t have enough time to do this right.

  Our lips meshed and our tongues clashed as they fought for supremacy. His other hand came up to frame my face and then he masterfully took control and kissed me with a passion and thoroughness I have not known before. I am being ravished and I am loving it. A small tinny sound reverberated close to my ear and I felt him reluctantly pull away. Our bodies separated first and then our lips. I hadn’t noticed he had moved in and crushed me against the wall while we were so involved in our passionate kissing. But obviously he had, as now he had to step two full paces back for us to separate.

  He looked down at his watch and touched a button to silence the alarm. “I have to get to the bridge. It’s time for the ship to push off. Come with me, you can watch me as I guide you out.”

  “Is that allowed?”

  “No, not normally. But as you’re already on the ship, I can get you through security. I can request that the Captain allow you on the bridge. Just don’t get in the way.”

  “Oh I wouldn’t.”

  He smiled down at me and kissed me on the end of my nose. “No, I know you wouldn’t or I wouldn’t have asked.”

  He grabbed my hand and together we walked quickly through the ship to the main elevator and from there to the secured level of the bridge.

  He looked at his watch and said. “We still have a few minutes, let me notify the Captain that I’m here.”

  He left and returned in just a few minutes. It’s given me just enough time to catch my breath. I am looking out a window at the sun as it begins to set. It’s a palette of rosy hues with lilac streaks fanning the edges. “Beautiful, huh?” I ask as I feel his large hands on my shoulders.

  “Magnificent. It’s one of the reasons I love my job so much. I often see both the sunrise and the sunset.”

  I turned in his arms and looked up at him. A heavy black curl had fallen over his forehead and I resisted setting it to rights. “So, are you going to tell me what the sexiest thing you ever saw was? I’m very curious and chances are very slim that I’ll ever see you again, so this could be my last time to find out what it was you found so sexy. What’s your tawdry secret?”

  “It’s not my secret really, it’s my friend Jonathan’s, and it’s not tawdry, not one little bit. Jonathan is a commercial airline pilot. On several occasions I was on hand when he was scheduled to be away for a few days, and each time when it was time to leave, he took his wife by the hand and led her into another room to kiss her goodbye. So finally one day, I asked him why he did that, as I had seen them kiss many times over the years. He told me, ‘I kiss her on the lips, both sets. I want her to know what I’ll be thinking about while I’m gone.’I remember my eyes popping wide before asking, ‘Well, what if you’re in a big hurry?’ He replied, ‘then I just don’t linger as long as I’d like.’”

  He ran his finger down my nose. “One day, when he dragged her down the hall just before leaving, I chanced to glance in a mirror on the opposite wall and I saw him kneel in front of her, pull her panties to her thighs, and lean in to kiss her. It was and still is the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Wow.” It was all I could say. Wow.

  Aman in uniform came into the anteroom and nodded at Roman, “The Captain is ready and the Harbor Master has given his go ahead.”

  “Good, I’ll be right there. And keep him on the line will you, I need to verify a few things.”

  “Yes, sir.” Then he went back behind the steel doors.

  “I will park you on a stool by the door. If there’s anything you need, the first mate will be right next to you.”

  Almost solemnly he lead me into the inner sanctum. My eyes took everything in, but understood nothing. Technology of an amazing sort was everywhere. I watched as Roman and the Captain conferred, then Roman spoke at length on the phone, then he moved switches, pulled levers, flipped a few toggles, and barked out a volley of orders. I watched as men jumped to each new command doing his bidding in an efficient and well practiced manner. Then I watched as his hands caressed a massive wheel and as he turned it, the ship shuddered and started to move. As the ship pulled away from the pier and made its way into open water the man at the helm capt
ivated me. Something about all the power he held in his hands was doing incredible things to me and for the second time that day I was slightly chagrinned that I hadn’t worn panties.

  We moved into the channel and as if it was effortless and thoughtless, he maneuvered our ship around huge freighters before steering us toward the open waters and the sea beyond. Moments later I heard the high-pitched whine of the pilot boat coming alongside in the blackening water. It was pulling alongside to retrieve him and take him home, back to St. Thomas.

  I heard Roman give the Captain back his ship, they shook hands and slapped backs and then Roman looked over at me. At that moment I wanted to be under him with him thrusting into me and from the look on his face his thoughts were clearly paralleling mine. He came over, took my hand and led me to the area where he would be jumping off.

  “This is where I get off.”

  “How?” I looked down; all I could see was churning water and a boat circling.

  “I go down the ladder and then I jump into the boat.”

  “You jump!”

  “Shh . . . it’s okay, it’s what we do, that’s how we get off the ship.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Don’t worry I’m trained for it, I’ve been jumping off ocean liners for years.”

  I saw him signal the Captain with a raised eyebrow and a nod toward a door with a question in his eyes.

  The Captain raised both of his brows in inquiry then nodded and said, “Hurry.”

  “Come,” Roman commanded. He opened a door that I assumed led to the Captain’s office. He closed it behind us and left the light off, but the blue glow of a screen saver across the room softly illuminated the area where we stood. He leaned me against the steel door and softly kissed me on the lips. I felt him slide down my body and when I looked down I could see the white streak of his hair as he knelt in front of me. With infinite care he raised my gown until it was at hip level. He shuddered as if seeing me either without panties or without pubic hair thrilled him to the core. He leaned in and his lips touched me and then his tongue flicked out to taste me. He pressed another kiss hard against me and with a groan he quickly dropped the hem of my gown and stood.

  “I do so want to linger,” he murmured, “would that I could.” He opened the door, took me by the shoulders and gave me literally to an officer standing there. “Don’t let her anywhere near the platform,” he said gruffly. Then he stepped out of an opening in the bridge and turned backward to go down a ladder. I watched until I couldn’t see his swept back hair with the white gilded wings blowing like a silvered corona in the breeze.

  I heard the roar of the pilot boat as it came around, heard a slight pause and then heard someone on the bridge say, “Rooster’s on his way home.”

  “Rooster?” I asked the officer in charge of me as he led me to the other side of the bridge.

  He blushed, “It’s just an affectionate name the crew has for him.”

  “He’s done this before?”

  “Done what ma’am?”

  “Oh, never mind. I really don’t think I want to know.”

  Chapter Five

  A man on a mission When I returned from breakfast the next morning a big bouquet of flowers had been delivered to my room. They were lovely, the colors muted and so beautiful together: soft pink tulips, pale orange lilies, sprays of fragrant heather with wild Indigo tucked throughout and fanning the outer edges. The note from the ship’s florist said that the flowers had been selected and arranged specifically as a tribute to last night’s sunset, by request from the sender. The sender’s note said simply: To a woman full of delightful surprises.

  I had to smile at the implications. Which surprise had delighted him more I wondered, the idea that I was naked under my dress, or that I was as bare a prepubescent for his kiss? It was a shame circumstances had not allowed us to get to know one another better for I was beginning to believe that this man was worthy of knowing, in the Biblical sense of knowing. It made me thrill inside just to think about him being carnal with me, his hips meshed with mine as he lay between my thighs urging me on with soft groans of encouragement.

  A sigh that could have filled the room blew out of me as I accepted that scenario was just not going to happen, outside of my dreams, that is. I heard the bongs coming through the speakers above my door and I stood listening to the announcements of the activities happening on board ship today. We were between ports, having a traveling day on the open sea, so the activities and events went on and on: cardio walk sessions, Jennifer, your port guide with shopping suggestions, ping-pong with the activities staff, bridge with your fellow guests, shuffleboard, morning trivia, backgammon, Pictionary, basketball challenge, arts and crafts, movie time, snowball jackpot bingo, Gordon and Teo previewing fabulous works of art for the Park West art program, and my favorite—meet the mystery celebrity dancer.

  I figured it was a good time to grab a lounger at the pool as most of my fellow cruisers were either still in bed or at breakfast. So it was into the bathroom to dress for a day relaxing and reading poolside. The bathing suit I had chosen to bring, and since I live at the beach I have many to choose from, was a sleek, black one-piece that flattered my trim figure. It had high cut legs to showcase my long ones and a nice tight spandex panel making me look like I have washboard abs. Straps crisscrossing my back secretly lift my butt. The suit was well worth the money I had paid for it.

  But before putting it on I had to slather myself with sunscreen, 75 for my face, 50 for my shoulders, arms, and back, and thirty for my legs that never tan no matter what I do—but if I do nothing, they burn. I am very fair and unless I protect my skin I pay, either in red scaly skin or freckles, neither of which ever goes to tan. I am creamy white or tomato red, nothing in between. I am the woman who always pays to have the cabana boy put up an umbrella, even if the cabana boy looks more like George Burns than George Clooney. The spray tan I had treated myself to had started to wear off during the first week of the cruise and I just had not been able to justify the extravagant amount they wanted at the Aqua Spa to renew it. So I consigned myself to taking exemplary care of my complexion, smearing on one high SPF lotion after another. The wry thought occurred to me that under the spray tan I had the oh-so-favorable skin tones that Victorian gentlemen had so lustily craved over a century ago. I would be in vogue if this were the late 1800s.

  When exactly had tanned and bronzed won out over pale and creamy as being the most desirable, had it been overnight, attributable to one exact day? Or had the desire for a darker pigment been gradual, say over a year or two, and if so, which years were they? My mind was constantly plagued by thoughts like this and I was forever writing down things I had to remember to Google.

  Once on deck I find a lounger in the perfect position and cover it with towels before settling in. I am on my second Pina Colada, deep into my book and reclining by the pool in the shade of an umbrella from a nearby table when I hear the whoop, whoop, whoop of helicopter blades and feel the breeze become a sudden downdraft until the hovering craft lands on the helipad about thirty feet above me. It’s an unusual sight for some, and many crane their necks. A few sunbathers even come out of their seats to gawk up at the platform in hopes of seeing which celebrity or rich guest is either arriving or departing. I’m not all that interested; I’ve seen helicopters before, even ridden in a few. When they were looking for Tom’s body, I had asked to be another pair of eyes and was allowed to accompany the recovery team twice.

  Ten minutes later I look up because everything has gone quiet all around me, there is no ice clinking in cups, no mindless chatter, no one doing flips over the side to impress the crowd.

  I look off to the right and see Roman, in full regalia, even to the hat tucked under his arm, striding purposefully toward me. Clearly he has everyone’s attention and all eyes follow until he is standing at the foot of my chair. He smiles and extends his hand, palm upward in a gesture that says, “Come with me.”

  I tilt my head and cock my b
row. It’s an offer every available woman around the world would certainly leap at, but I have to wonder what insane thing I’m agreeing to by putting my hand in his. I put my drink on the side table, tuck my book into my beach bag and take his hand. As he pulls me up I grab my cover-up from the foot of the lounger.

  “I have the rest of the day off and I thought you might like to spend it with me.”

  He takes the wrap from me and I turn so he can help me into it.

  “You look very studious in your reading glasses, or you would if they weren’t so colorful.”

  I had forgotten I had them on and lifted them to the top of my head. I know this is an especially cute look on me; it’s the same effect as wearing a headband without the headache they always give me. “Can’t seem to read for long without them anymore. Where’re we going?”

  “Back to St. Thomas.”

  “Oh, then I need to change.”

  “Oh no you don’t. In fact, for what I have in mind, you’re already over dressed.”

  “Roman . . .”

  He shot me a delightfully devilish smile and I had to grip his hand to keep from falling back to the lounger. Those firm, smooth lips stretched into a smile over straight white teeth, they looked inviting but I was well aware that we had an audience—and a very avid one at that. A dashing man in uniform always gave the appearance of being commanding, and Roman was even more so because he’d just arrived by helicopter and ran down several flights of steps without so much as creasing his dress whites, to whisk what everyone must think was his paramour away with him.

  It was a fairy tale moment to be sure, but I was having a hard time coming to terms with my role in it.

  “I have no clothes in this bag, this is all I have to wear.” I gestured with my hand over my robe-styled coverall.

  “If you need anything else, I’ll buy it.”

  “When will I be back?”

  “When I’m finished with you.”

  His tone brooked no argument, it was definitive and assured. He meant to ravish me. We hardly even knew each other and he thought he was going to sweep me away, bed me, and then drop me back off when he was finished with me. He took my hand in his. His arrogance annoyed me but not enough to have me pulling my hand back. He gripped it tighter and wove me through the lounge chairs then led me to the stairs going to the next level.