Ghost pos-1

by John Ringo

  “You really like the water,” Courtney said musingly.

  “Love it,” Mike replied. “But when I was a SEAL it was almost like it was the enemy. When we trained it was always at night and half the time it was in the northern Pacific, which is mostly zero viz and cold as hell. But this stuff?” he said, waving around. “This is great, brown, green and blue. This is as close as I’ve come to heaven. Great water, good reefs, good fishing and pretty girls,” he finished, grinning at her.

  “Have you had a lot of pretty girls on your boat?” Courtney asked archly.

  “You’re the first ones,” Mike admitted. “There are ladies who make something of a profession of moving from boat to boat. I prefer not to deal with them, even the pretty ones.” He paused and shook his head. “Crap.”

  “What?” Courtney asked as he leaned across her.

  “Pam? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” the girl called from forward.

  “There’s a cabin on the right, forward, that’s locked,” he yelled. “Kindly don’t try to find out why. Remember the story of Bluebeard.”

  “Now you’ve got me nervous,” Courtney said as he straightened back up and made the next turn in the channel.

  “Not like that,” Mike said. “Like I said, sometimes I do classified stuff. That room has some of that stuff in it. That’s why I keep it locked. Also has my weight gear. Do you mind if I take off my shirt?”

  “Changing the subject?” Courtney asked, smiling. “Go ahead.”

  “The scars make people comment, so I generally keep it on when I’m in dock,” he said, setting the autosteer for a second and stripping out of the T-shirt. “But I like to keep it off when I’m out.”

  “Nice bathroom,” Pam said, coming topside. “Wow, you really are scarred up, aren’t you?”

  “See?” Mike said, shaking his head. “Yeah.”

  “That’s some major damage,” Courtney said, running her finger over a suture mark in his side. “Like, I’m surprised you lived.”

  “Nursing student?” Mike asked.

  “Pre-med,” Courtney said shortly.

  “Well, the doctors told me they spent about ten hours with their hands in various parts of me,” Mike admitted. “And about half of my insides are now plastic. Wonder of modern medicine, that’s me.”

  “You want to go sun?” Pam asked Courtney.

  “I’m going to sit and talk with Mike. Maybe later.”

  “We can actually do both,” Mike said as Pam made her way forward. “Up on the tuna tower. And you can see more.”

  “Uh, it’s kind of high,” Courtney said.

  “You’ll hardly notice,” Mike replied. “Let me get out of the channel, first, though. And there’s more motion up there.”

  “It’s pretty smooth so far,” Courtney said.

  “Well,” Mike said, spinning the wheel and engaging the bow thrusters to make the final turn, “that’s because the bar we’re about to go through is breaking the waves. It’s pretty calm today, inshore, which is where we’re going to be most of the time, it’s only a foot. Offshore it’s two feet and glassy. That’s good conditions. Very good. We’ll rock up there,” he said, gesturing up. “But it’s fun.”

  They passed through the final turn and he powered up, the nose of the cruiser rising and riding easily across the small swells.

  “Now this is more like it,” Courtney said, grinning.

  “Look,” Mike said, pointing off to the left. “Dolphin.”

  “Where?” Courtney asked, standing up and shading her eyes.

  “Look for a fin at about ten o’clock,” Mike said, keeping his eye in the direction and on close boats. “There.”

  “Oh, cool,” Courtney said. “Pam! There’s a dolphin off on the left!”

  “Port,” Mike automatically corrected.

  “What is it with sailors and all this port and starboard stuff?” Courtney asked, watching the dolphins. “There’s three of them.”

  “Two females and a juvenile,” Mike said, nodding. “You can tell the young one because its fin is smaller.”

  “Can we swim with them?” Courtney asked. “They’re going away.”

  “Most dolphins won’t swim with people,” Mike said. “Sometimes you can slide over the side and get them to look you over. But there are very few that actively enjoy swimming with humans. Come on up on the tuna tower,” he said, setting the autosteer. “You’ll enjoy it.”

  “I need a bathing suit,” Courtney said, temporizing.

  “And sunscreen,” Mike said.

  “I’ve got a pretty good tan,” Courtney replied.

  “Trust me,” Mike replied. “Up there you’ll want at least fifteen SPF. Twenty-five would be better.”

  “Somebody will have to do my back,” she said coyly.

  “Twist my arm and we’ll discuss it,” Mike said, grinning.

  He made his way up to the tuna tower and checked the controls. The autosteer had been set to run towards a break in the outer reefs, He leaned back and propped up his feet, reclining the chair and trying not to grin from ear to ear. After a second, though, he leaned forward and looked down at Pam.

  “Pam!”

  The girl sat up and looked around, confused.

  “Up here,” Mike said, smiling. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

  “I put on tanning oil,” she said, turning around and looking up at him. “Like the view?”

  “Love it,” Mike said, grinning. She had an exceptionally nice chest and the legs were outstanding. “I’d strongly advise more than tanning oil. But it’s up to you.”

  “I want a tan when I get back,” Pam said, shrugging.

  “Okay,” Mike said, sitting down. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered.

  “This is cool,” Courtney said, coming up the ladder. “But a bit…”

  Mike helped her up the last few feet and into the chair next to his.

  “I love it up here,” he said, sitting up. “More dolphins, way off to port, forward. And you see those,” he said, pointing to some circles to the right. “That’s bait fish feeding on the surface.”

  “Wow!” Courtney said, pointing forward as a small finny shape jumped out of the water and tail walked off to the left. “Flying fish!”

  “They’re pretty rare inshore,” Mike said. “But you see a lot of them out in the Stream.”

  “The Gulf Stream,” Courtney said, nodding. “That I’ve heard of.”

  “That’s where you get the pelagics,” he said, pointing down to port. “There, you see that flashing. Those are the bait fish.”

  “Something just jumped over there,” Courtney said, pointing off to port.

  “Probably mullet,” Mike said, shrugging. “They jump a lot. Nobody knows why.”

  “Where are we going?” Courtney asked, looking around.

  “There’s a shallow reef,” Mike said, pointing at the GPS. “You can’t see it very well on this little bitty screen. It’s not all that shallow, unfortunately, with the current tide you’re talking six or seven feet. But it’s pretty and you can dance to it…”

  “What?” Courtney asked.

  “What was that show?” Mike asked. “Soul Train? One of the judges was always saying ‘it has a nice beat and you can dance to it.’ I guess it’s a generational thing.”

  “Okay,” Courtney said with a laugh. “Whatever.”

  “Anyway, we’ll hook up there,” Mike said, “and you can try your hand at snorkeling.”

  “Hook up?” Courtney said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, there’s a buoy you hook up to rather than anchor,” Mike said, looking at her. “Why?”

  “Uh…” Courtney paused and shrugged. “It’s a generational thing. Hook up is… well it’s one way of saying you’re sort of… dating…”

  “Or having sex?” Mike asked, grinning.

  “Maybe,” Courtney said, shrugging. “Hooking up just means you’re… together for a while. Maybe sex, maybe just making out, maybe just dating
and none of the above. Generally at least making out is involved.”

  “Like going steady?” Mike asked.

  “Not exactly,” Courtney said, shrugging again. “God, I haven’t heard anyone use that term since high school.”

  “Last time I heard it, too,” Mike admitted. “But hooking up is a new one on me. Except for buoys.”

  “I wouldn’t have picked you for going both ways,” Courtney said, blank faced. “But, then again, you were a sailor, right?”

  “Did you just make a joke?” Mike asked, grinning.

  “What? I can’t joke?” Courtney asked, smiling.

  “Joke all you want,” Mike said. “As long as they’re not farmer’s-daughter jokes.”

  The reef only had one other boat on it, a snorkel trip boat that was already starting to recover its group of dentists from Cleveland or whatever. Mike turned downwind, then lined up on the buoy and leaned over the tuna tower.

  “Pam, I need some help,” he called. “On the starboard… the right side, in a holder is a boat hook, could you grab it?”

  “Sure,” she called, getting up off her towel and getting the boat hook.

  “Okay,” Mike yelled. “There’s a knurled grip in the middle. If you twist it loose, you can extend the boat hook.”

  “Got it,” Pam said after a few moments. She extended the hook and clamped it back down.

  “Okay, I’m going to pull up to the buoy. You’ll need to pull it up to the boat.” He looked at Courtney and shrugged. “I think two people.”

  “Going,” Courtney said, heading for the ladder.

  “Courtney’s coming down. If you can pull the buoy up a bit, there’s a rope down there with a clip on it. Clip that to the line on the bottom of the buoy and we’re good.”

  “How heavy is it?” Pam asked.

  “Pretty heavy,” Mike admitted. “But I don’t think you want to do this end, do you?”

  “No,” she said, walking forward.

  When Courtney got to the bow, he pulled forward, slowly, until he lost sight of the buoy.

  “Missed it,” Pam called. She was bent over the front rail and it was an entirely pleasant sight.

  “Coming up again,” Mike called, giving the engine a nudge.

  “Got it!” Pam called. She wriggled out from under the rail and hauled on the line. Mike pulled forward a bit more and Courtney got down on the deck with the bowline.

  “I got it on!” she yelled. “I got it.”

  “Get out of the way and let Pam drop the buoy,” Mike called, putting the engine in neutral.

  “There, that wasn’t that bad,” he said when he reached the main deck.

  “Not bad,” Pam said. “Good steering.”

  “Thanks,” he said, getting out the snorkeling gear. He defogged the masks with baby shampoo, fitted the masks for the girls, then found foot fins that fit them.

  “You’ve got a lot of this gear,” Courtney said.

  “I’d hoped to have visitors, frankly,” Mike replied. “So I laid in a lot of stuff I don’t have use for. I even… well…” He paused and grinned sheepishly. “I even laid in stuff in case I had female visitors.”

  “Tampons and pads?” Pam asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, yeah, but they’re for something else,” Mike said. “No, I bought some other stuff. Don’t think I’m a perv or anything. But… well… if a young lady ends up unexpectedly spending time on the boat, she’ll probably be able to find panties and a bra that fit.”

  “Really?” Courtney said, laughing. “You’re serious.”

  “Really,” Mike said. “Look, I dated a lot when I was younger. A young lady spends time at a gentleman’s apartment or whatever and she gets up in the morning and the one thing you can tell she’s thinking about is: ‘Damn, I’ve got to put on my underwear from yesterday.’ So I laid in supplies.”

  “That’s…” Courtney stopped and shrugged. “I guess that makes a lot of sense. If you’re incredibly sensitive and forward thinking.”

  “Forward thinking, yes,” Mike said. “Very few people have ever accused me of being sensitive.”

  “Okay,” Courtney said, laughing. “It wasn’t intended as an insult.”

  “What’s the other thing that tampons and pads are for?” Pam asked, curiously.

  “Let’s just say I like being prepared,” Mike answered. “And in that vein,” he said, pulling out a bottle of Bullfrog 45, “I don’t care how much you want a tan when you get home. We go snorkeling for a few hours with your current tan and you’re going to burn to a crisp and not even know it until you’re back onboard.”

  “Fine,” Pam sighed, turning around and flipping her hair forward. “Do me.”

  “In a heartbeat,” Mike said.

  When all three of them were lathered, he swung out the dive ladder. The yacht had a water-level deck for bringing in large fish that the ladder hung down from. He got the girls in their gear then got his own on.

  “Just keep the snorkel in your mouth and your body level,” he said, slipping over the side. “Pam first. I’ll support you at first so you get used to it.”

  Pam slipped into the water and he held her by the midsection, getting a world-class erection in the process. After a second she pulled her head out of the water and spit out the snorkel.

  “That is so cool,” she said, grinning.

  “To swim around just kick with your fins,” Mike said, releasing her. “You okay?”

  “Great,” she said, putting the snorkel back in and kicking off.

  “Me next,” Courtney said. “But I think I can do it myself.”

  “Works,” Mike said, kicking backwards and putting on his mask. “After you.”

  He followed the two girls towards the reef, listening to their snorkel-muffled oaths and amahs and just enjoying himself immensely. Suddenly there was a muffled shriek and Courtney turned around and made a beeline for the boat. Mike beat her back easily and was in the transom by the time she spit out her snorkel and climbed on board.

  “There was this big, nasty-looking fish,” she said nervously.

  “Barracuda,” Mike said, nodding. “Not a big deal. They don’t attack snorkelers. Well, to be honest I should say hardly ever. Not if you don’t have any necklaces or shiny stuff; I checked for that. You’re okay.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked.

  “I’ll go with you,” Mike said, sliding into the water and holding out his hand as Pam closed on the boat, too.

  “Did you see it?” Pam asked after she spit out her snorkel.

  “It’s okay,” Mike said, shaking his head and trying not to grin. “Three things to remember about barracuda. They’re curious, so they follow you around. Don’t wave your fingers at them, they might think they’re fish. Don’t wear shiny necklaces, they look like lures. Oh, and they’re fun to catch, but don’t eat the big ones.”

  “Why?” Courtney said, slipping into the water and checking under her with her mask.

  “They build up a toxin in their flesh as they get older,” Mike said when she’d surfaced. “Makes them poisonous. Come on.”

  He led both of them by the hand back to the reef and started pointing out particular fish and coral. When the ’cuda cruised back in, he just ignored it, and after a while the ’cuda ignored them.

  They snorkeled on the reef for a good hour before Courtney surfaced and spat out her snorkel.

  “My shins are killing me,” she admitted. “I’m about done.”

  “Me, too,” Pam said.

  “Suits,” Mike said, glancing at his watch. “Let’s do lunch.”

  Chapter Three

  They had sandwiches, sitting at the bar with their suits on.

  “Mike, thanks,” Pam said, washing down the sandwich with a swallow of Coke. “This is just loads of fun. But I feel like I’m… I’m eating your food and using your gas and stuff. This should be costing us money. How much would it cost to rent a boat like this to do this? I mean, I just don’t feel right.”

 
“Look, it’s just enormous fun having you both here, okay?” Mike said, shrugging. “I feel like I ought to be paying you money it’s so much fun.”

  “How much?” Courtney said, grinning. “And, admit it, you’re just hoping to get laid.”

  “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed,” Mike said, shrugging and grinning back. “Maybe if you were messy eating crackers. But, no, I’m just having fun watching you guys have fun. It’s a real high for a guy to get a girl to smile, and that’s a fact. So don’t sweat what it would cost. Trust me, I can afford it. I’d take you two to the Bahamas if you asked. Hell, I’d cruise you down to the Virgin Islands if you wanted. You’re both very nice young ladies, both in personality and in looks. Consider this boat yours until you have to go home.”

  “Well, we’ll have to leave in a couple of days,” Pam said, frowning. “We can’t afford to stay in the hotel beyond then.”

  “Uh, I did say the boat is yours,” Mike pointed out diffidently. “There are three open cabins. They’re small, but comfortable. If hotel costs are the only thing making you go home, move in. You can still go back whenever you’d like, in two days if you want. But it’s stupid to pay for the hotel when you can stay on the boat.”

  Courtney raised an eyebrow at that and cocked her head.

  “No strings?” she asked incredulously.

  “I’m not using them,” Mike said, shrugging. “I already said I wouldn’t kick you out of bed, but I’m not going to drag you there, either. Or attach strings. No strings. Okay, a couple. Leave the cabins in the same shape they were when you got here, which is neat. Help with cooking and the dishes. Help wash down the boat.”

  “Those aren’t what I’d call strings,” Pam said, frowning. “That’s just being polite.”

  “There are lots of people in the world who are extremely impolite,” Mike said, picking up the paper plates and putting them in the trash. “Are you still checked into the hotel?”

  “No, we were going to try to find a cheaper one,” Pam said.