Charlotte & the Pirate
A Romantek Novel
By
Patricia Green
Copyright 2014 Blushing Books and Patricia Green
Published by Blushing Books at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition, License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Published by Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Green, Patricia
Charlotte & the Pirate
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-4126
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics and Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
Blushing Books
Chapter 1
"Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up!"
It was impossible. Charlotte was betting a great deal on Romantek's rejuvenation process. If it didn't work, not only would she be broke, her face would still be ruined. She rubbed scar-reducing cream into her left cheek as she readied for bed. It never worked, but it was all she had. She didn't dare look in the mirror. Looking in the mirror was always a painful experience. It never changed, wishes couldn't make it better, and no amount of praise in other parts of her life were enough. She was ugly; the scar on her face made her miserable and distrustful. But there was a cure for it. Finally, there was hope that she'd be normal, look like everyone else, that she could stop feeling defensive when people's eyes touched on that spot just below her left eye -- that puckered, grotesque remnant from the self-driving automobile accident when she was a teenager.
No more would she feel set apart from the beautiful people around her, the people who'd had better fortune than she had.
Bitterness was her constant companion. As she crawled into bed, the grueling experience played through her mind for the thousandth time. The whole thing seemed unfair. She thought of her ailing patients, and realized that many of their situations were equally unfair, but mostly because life was unfair. As a para-nurse, she saw everything.
Not sleeping, Charlotte played the day's events out in her mind. She'd entered an elderly lady's room. The woman was on her tablet, but she looked up as Charlotte came into the hospital room.
"Ugly. Ugly. U-G-L-Y, ugly!"
Charlotte immediately covered the left side of her face with a trembling hand as she gasped out her hurt. But it had been an overreaction. Mrs. Jarvis poked at her tablet screen, unaware of Charlotte's pain. "That bitch, Susan, played a terrible word in my Word Wonder game. I was ahead by twenty points, too!"
Slowing her heartbeat, Charlotte tried to relax, but her voice trembled when she said, "Oh. That's too bad. Maybe you can win the next game."
"I never win. It's not fair."
Charlotte could relate.
There had been things the medical system might have done to minimize the facial scar when she was younger, but they were considered "cosmetic" and consequently would not be funded by the government. Instead of getting help, she was stuck with her horrible flaw, hanging out there for everyone to see, for everyone to judge her on.
But even as she helped Mrs. Jarvis with her lunch, she daydreamed about her upcoming Romantek vacation. Romantek had the answer. The virtual-reality dreaming company had a patent-pending process to rejuvenate their clients. A certain amount of aging could be reversed, old injuries could be wiped away, body flaws could be corrected. Oh, of course, they couldn't regrow limbs or organs; that was the realm of the fantastic and the not-quite-ready science everyone wanted to hope for. Scars, however, could be removed or minimized significantly. Scars like Charlotte's.
She needed to get into Romantek's nanite gel and experience that process. Unfortunately, the only way to do that, since it was an experimental procedure and not approved by all the myriad governmental agencies, was to buy a Romantek virtual reality vacation package—a RAVE. While on Romantek's cruise ship in international waters, Charlotte would be immersed in the miraculous gel and have a dreaming vacation, and a few days later, she'd emerge unscarred and as beautiful as her body could be. Or, at least that was the theory. Romantek guaranteed nothing where their rejuvenation process was concerned. For some people, nothing much happened. They were very clear about that in their brochures. There were disclaimers aplenty, but Charlotte knew, she just knew that she'd be a lucky one and her living nightmare would be over.
Mrs. Jarvis finished her lunch, and Charlotte went back to the nursing station. It hadn't been the first time she'd felt the sting of her misfortune. But hopefully it would be the last. She only had to make it one more day.
In bed that night, excited, frightened, hopeful, she found sleep elusive. For the umpteenth time, Charlotte thanked her Aunt Devona, though she tried not to feel guilty over the reason for her thankfulness.
Her Aunt Devona, might she rest in peace, had been the answer to Charlotte's prayers. Ever since Charlotte's parents had died—killed in the same self-drive accident that ruined Charlotte's face—Aunt Devona had been like a mother to her. A childless widow herself, she took care of Charlotte through thick and thin. She'd been there after the accident, loving her and supporting Charlotte through a time so bleak she hardly remembered anything but the deep, dark emotions she'd felt. Charlotte had buried herself in reading everything she could get her hands on. Romance novels, particularly erotic romance novels, took her out of her misery for a while, and let her escape into a world where there were dashing and dominant heroes and spunky but tender heroines. Charlotte never expected to feel these sweeping emotions herself. Who would love a girl with a big facial scar? It made her want to snap at the people whose eyes gravitated toward her scar instead of her eyes. She was sharp-tongued, wary, and found it impossible to make friends while she was in school.
Auntie had acted as her mother for ten years, but that time had passed. Aunt Devona was dead, and at twenty-five, Charlotte finally had to approach life all on her own. It was daunting, especially with the scar, but Charlotte refused to give up. She tried every remedy she encountered. Romantek was her last hope.
And thanks to Aunt Devona's estate, Charlotte could now fulfill the dreams she'd had for so long.
Being a para-nurse paid modest wages, enough to live on, but not much to save toward the future. Aunt Devona had helped her along when she needed it, but Charlotte hadn't wanted to be a taker. She wanted to make it on her own as much as possible. She knew she needed to stand alone, for she'd never find a person who would accept her as she was. If she made it in the world, it would be by her own efforts. If that pissed some people off, then too bad. Charlotte would go through life with her chin held high and make mincemeat of anyone who tried to tell her no.
Now, thanks to Aunt Devona, she could pay off her apartm
ent and really own it. She could buy a self-drive subscription, making the autos available to her whenever she called for one, instead of waiting long minutes, sometimes hours, to get picked up. And, most important of all the gifts Aunt Devona's estate could give, Charlotte could have that scar removed. There was just barely enough to do the RAVE, but it was worth the expense. Charlotte's future happiness depended on it.
Charlotte had bookmarked an article about Romantek in her tablet, and as soon as her share of Aunt Devona's estate had been given to her—the appropriate inheritance taxes taken by the government—Charlotte had contacted them. Their sales pitch had fallen on deaf ears. Charlotte already knew what she wanted. She agreed to everything readily, anxious to get started. It didn't matter what dream she chose to experience while in the nanite gel, so Charlotte picked at random and then promptly ignored what she'd chosen. It mattered so little to her. It would be ephemeral, like any dream, so it didn't count for much in her mind. Whatever the details were, she was sure it would be pleasant enough. Romantek would hardly risk alienating customers by giving them bad dreams.
The small print barely even registered with Charlotte. She saw that there could be other real people in her dream, but she didn't care. So what if she saw others? She'd be unscarred! She could make friends without being suspicious that eventually they'd hurt her feelings by staring too long, or asking personal questions that made her relive those terrible days after the accident. And there would be plenty of computer-simulated folks as well, people who would treat Charlotte respectfully and maybe flirt with her a bit. Charlotte couldn't remember ever being flirted with; it would be quite the novel experience. But no matter what, Charlotte was going to do this thing. Even if her dream was hellish, the end would be worth it.
The insertion of the tiny computer chip near her scalp was completely painless, and for the week before her RAVE began, the Romantek computers had been recording all her thoughts, dreams, and experiences carefully, in order to create the script and results Charlotte wanted. She tried to dream about being unscarred, imagining herself flawlessly beautiful as her mother had been. Aunt Devona had told Charlotte many times how much she looked like her mother, and Charlotte, when she covered up the left side of her face, could see the resemblance.
Dreaming about a new life, her eyes got heavy, and she sighed. The RAVE was her magic wand to wave, and Charlotte was more than ready.
* * * * *
The medicinal film tasted like chocolate, and Charlotte began to feel sleepy within minutes of dissolving it on her tongue. She lay on the bed, imagining how she'd look when she next awoke, imagining how her life would change and how free she'd feel. A friendly para-nurse came by to pat Charlotte's hand just as the drug weighed down her limbs and sedated her mind. Charlotte might have told the nurse not to condescend to her, but she herself was guilty of such small gestures when she was caring for the people on her ward. It was only human to want to aid and comfort.
There would normally have been no sedative given to the RAVE dreamers, but Charlotte was a little afraid of the immersion into the gel. The thought of breathing in liquid made her agitated and sent her blood pressure soaring and her adrenaline response far too high for the process to be safe. Consequently, they'd sedated her. It wasn't unknown to happen, and Charlotte was comfortable with it, even though it made her woozy and things got unfocused and unreal.
The gel felt cool and smelled like springtime in a park as she breathed it in. Charlotte closed her eyes and fell down a long tunnel, so long it seemed endless.
A lurch and a bump made Charlotte open her eyes. It was dark where she was, but a little moonlight streamed in through a round window high in one wall of the little room. The bed she lay in was rocking gently, and it sounded like water was lapping on the window wall. Things smelled like fresh seawater, a little fishy, salty, wet.
She was on a boat then, a boat much smaller than the Romantek cruise ship, that much was clear. Charlotte wracked her brain to remember what dream she'd picked at random, and a small voice in her head whispered, "Dream Pirate." No wonder she was on a boat. She was dreaming about ancient mariners. That could be fun. Charlotte's only experience on a boat was the brief time she'd spent in her luxury cabin on board Romantek's ocean liner right before they took her to the immersion room on the dreaming deck.
The old wood in the ship she was now on creaked and groaned with the motion of the vessel. It was rather pleasant, but she wanted to explore a little more.
Charlotte pushed the covers off herself and sat up toward the side of the bed. She was wearing a long nightdress, like a shift, ethereally white in the moonlight, with a scoop neck that tied in the front. That was all she wore, but at the side of the bed were little slippers, not the kind you wore with your pajamas, but the flat little faux-leather kind you wore to go shopping. Charlotte was not a particularly tall woman, and these wouldn't add to her height at all, more's the pity. But they smelled like real leather. Amazing! She'd seen a leather purse once, but Charlotte had never touched it; leather was rare in the twenty-second century. The smell was unmistakable, however. She slipped on the shoes and felt her way around the dark room, and then it occurred to her: she hadn't touched her face. She hadn't found the evidence of her dreams being fulfilled!
It was scary. What if Romantek didn't make her cure part of the dream? What if she kept her scar through the dreaming part and lost it only afterward? Well, she'd dealt with the ugly mark for ten years, so she could deal with it a few days longer if she had to. Slowly, cautiously, Charlotte raised a hand to her cheek. The deep pucker was still there, and though she'd tried not to get her hopes up, it was a severe disappointment to know that she'd have to deal with the scar for an unknown amount of time. Perhaps it got better and better as each dreaming day passed until, by the end, it was gone.
If that was the case, Charlotte needed to fast-forward this dream.
There was noise outside, on the decks of the ship, and the boat rocked from side to side, making Charlotte have to grab for any nearby object to steady herself. She found the back of a wooden chair and that helped quite a bit. But soon there was shouting and what sounded like metal on metal. A few horrifying screams tore through the night.
With growing alarm, Charlotte gripped the chair and tried to figure out what to do. Should she leave the cabin and find out what was going on? Was she safer waiting for things to calm?
Trying not to panic, she took a step toward the place on the far wall where she perceived a door. It might be a closet, but there was a little light underneath it, so it was probably the portal to the outside. Another step away from the chair and suddenly the door crashed open, bouncing off the wall and back toward the man who stood framed by light.
"Aha! I knew it! A different kind of treasure! Let's grab her and get off the ship before it sinks!"
Pirates! She was faced with pirates, two of them, if the weak lantern light was any help.
Revulsion at their unkempt appearance and sneering faces, as well as fear, jolted Charlotte and she took a large step backward, running into the chair. She snatched it up and menaced the pirates with it, hoping to keep them at bay. Although, if the ship was sinking, her choices were limited. Surely Romantek wouldn't kill her off on the very first hour of her dream! But what was she supposed to do? She swung the chair back and forth, lunging with it a time or two, and sending the pirates back a pace. The scrawny one of the duo, who was farthest into the room, growled at her, while the one with the lantern egged him on.
"Grab her, Tinker, and let's get out of here!"
"The chair! Help me get it."
"Go away!" Charlotte shouted, a scream nearly bubbling up into her mouth like bile. "Leave me alone!"
Tinker slunk to the right while the other one put down the lantern and moved to the left. At the briefest of nods, they both grabbed Charlotte's chair and took it away from her, tossing it onto the deck of the cabin. Tinker's wiry arms surrounded her from behind, and although Charlotte struggled, he was too st
rong for her to break away from.
The bigger one picked up the lantern again and led the way out of the cabin and down the narrow hall toward the companionway.
Charlotte continued to struggle but could not free herself. Her arms, pulled back behind her from the biceps, were throbbing and, as they manhandled her up the companionway, she was assaulted by the cold sea air. Her chemise was no help at all against that wind, though it was long and long-sleeved. And all around her there was fighting. Some fighters, like the two who'd captured her, wore a hodgepodge of shirts, vests, short pants and socks. A few had tricorne hats on, but most wore scarves around their heads, tied in a grubby knot at one side. All kinds of jewelry flickered in the torchlight, and fighters wielded cutlasses expertly. Men in uniform littered the deck along with their weapons. Steel rang on steel with a deafening clatter in the night.
A hatted man nearly got beheaded by a pirate, and his scream died in his ruined throat. But that was not the only scream that came to Charlotte's ears. All around her, scuffling, grunting with effort, men fought and died or were wounded out of the battle. She tried to tell herself that this was a computer-generated battle. These were not real people. But it was so realistic, it was hard not to be emotionally entangled in the awful scene.
Another ship floated nearby, and a number of the pirates had formed a relay line and were looting barrels and crates, one man to another and then onto the second ship. They worked quickly and efficiently. Charlotte could feel the ship rocking and tilting, and panic flowed through her veins as she realized that the ship was listing, taking on water.
The two who'd captured her fought through the mass of struggling men, to a gangplank joining her ship to the pirate vessel. It looked narrow and such a long way away from the other ship. Charlotte struggled all the harder. She couldn't cross that gangplank! She'd surely fall into the water so far below and drown!
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