by Purple Hazel
Young-Min Jo merely answered, “Yes, yes, and yes, I’m afraid. Guilty on all three counts. And I’m not apologizing for it either. I got the fame. I got the girl. Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke. I won.”
Hearing this, B.J. laughed and cackled boisterously for several moments, drawing everyone into her joyful bliss. It wasn’t long after that when Young-Min polished off his second margarita and headed off to take a nap. Steinhart went back upstairs. Shamiso dozed off in her chair a little while later. This finally gave Zero and B.J. the chance to speak privately with one another.
“Okay...well, I guess it’s just you and me,” said B.J., as they noticed Shamiso snoozing in the chair next to them. B.J. and Zero were alone, naked in a lounge chair, with just the sound of the solar electric motors churning the water behind the stern of the vessel. Peaceful and quiet. No better chance to learn about Zero’s past...the true story that is...not the sanitized version she’d told Young-Min Jo.
“Yes. So cozy,” commented Zero in response, “My guy is sacked out downstairs. I guess he pretty much earned it after the day we’ve had.”
“You mean traveling from Merida...and the flight down to Mexico?” clarified B.J., “or do you mean that little afternoon nap you guys were bullshitting me about a little while ago?”
Zero snickered. “Busted,” she replied, leaning her head onto B.J.’s shoulder. B.J. responded by patting her on the thigh. “Well good for you, Sweetie. Glad you two had a little time together ’fore the trip out to Isla Perez. It’s always so much fun when you’re in a new relationship and the sex is so intense, you know? Still that way for Schnucki and me.” Then after a pause, she added, “We fucked on the way down to Progreso, by the way. Laid him out on the foredeck...rode him cowgirl ’til I got off.”
Zero sighed happily. “Oh yes, I love that position. Inexperienced guys I’ve been with...that always makes the most sense for me. If they’re not too fat in the belly, I mean. When they are, I go doggy style—if their cock isn’t too long that is. How about you?”
B.J. suddenly wondered at just how much experience Zero had with men! Seemed like they might have just a few more things in common than she’d previously assumed! Now she was beginning to take an even deeper interest in her new friend. Shamiso was delightful, no doubt about that. Beautiful girl. Lovely brown skin glistening in the sun. But she was a novice at best, compared to B.J. Most women were! Apparently, this gal was someone she could actually trade stories with. Only challenge was in not asking too many questions early on in their friendship. Push the envelope, and Zero would clam up, for fear of revealing she might have skeletons in her closet.
“So tell me about yourself, girl. You originally from Toronto?” asked B.J., wading in ever so gingerly just to kick things off. Didn’t take long to learn quite a lot about her new gal-pal.
“Oh yes. Orphan. Grew up pretty much like Young-Min Jo. We have that in common, at least,” she began. B.J. clarified this with, “And not much else huh? Well that’s best I think. In my experience, the guys that go for girls like us usually don’t want the normal, innocent, girl next door-type. I’m definitely not your typical good little white gal that’s for sure. Maybe them three told you ’bout me...did they?”
“Yeah. A little,” replied Zero, playing her cards close to the vest. In reality, they’d told her volumes about things they’d seen on the ship, such as open sexuality and polyamorous lifestyles. B.J. was a common topic. Came up frequently in their tales of “The Virch”. To be sure, she’d often been the star in many of their stories!
“I came up the hard way, let me tell you,” continued Zero after a pause. She told B.J. about leaving the orphanage, working in that awful factory, getting disciplined with a wooden rod on her bare bottom when she was rebellious—and sometimes just because a supervisor felt like setting an example.
“And then I got out. Walked out of that factory, and away from all those smelly old women. They encouraged me to. Said I had the body and the good looks to make better money working as a model…in, uh, a gentleman’s club. There were plenty of those in Toronto.”
She then waited a moment or two. Waited to see how B.J. would react. Sensing her sexy hostess wasn’t put off by this revelation, she added, “I did okay for a while. Then I moved up to working for Young-Min’s brother, carrying pouches of drugs to clients they sent me to. Made even more money. Found I could work my magic with wealthy men just as easily—and they’d take better care of me. Got me out of the whorehouse. Got to dress nice, like a real lady. Then...after a rough experience in Bangkok...I started getting in shape. Learned how to defend myself. Things changed after that.”
“I can see why,” observed B.J., pinching her bicep gently and cooing dreamily. “Feels like you got some muscles on ya’ girly. I know I sure wouldn’t wanna get into it with you. Most guys wouldn’t risk it either, would they?”
Zero snickered with a few playful grunts. “No, they didn’t,” she replied confidently. “Not after a while anyway.”
B.J. giggled wantonly. Zero was one hot number, no doubt about it! No wonder Young-Min Jo had fallen for her. It certainly answered a few questions about what he truly desired in a woman. A tough gal who could take care of him. The kind that he’d never dare cross. Keep him in line. Plenty of amorous experience, yet the type who could still take care of herself in a scrap. Some guys go for that. Most wish they could find one just like her—if they think they can handle her. Clearly, he thought he could.
“You love him, don’t you?” B.J. asked. “Young-Min Jo? He’s just your type, isn’t he? Won’t ever hurt you. Couldn’t even if he tried. He’ll just love you unconditionally and adore you like a goddess, no matter what, the rest of your life. And...on top of that...he’s smart. I’m sure you noticed that, didn’t you? He has the brains to hold down a good job. Support you comfortably the rest of your life. Kind of naïve. I’ll admit that. But a gal like you? You’re all the woman he’ll ever need.” Then she paused, and said, “But you already figured that out by now I’m sure.”
Zero nodded. She certainly had. And now best of all she’d been welcomed into a community of people who had known him almost all his life. This was his real family. The folks who’d shaped his own sense of self. She’d seen how they deferred to him in many ways. Saw a side of him that had been suppressed previously. He was now even more confident, more self-aware. Valued. Respected. B.J. only confirmed this with her evaluation of her old friend from Space Programme. If she’d never known previously what she truly wanted from life, she clearly did now: A husband. A partner. A companion. Life suddenly seemed so terribly simple and uncomplicated.
* * * *
Putting in at Isla Perez, the happy crew exited their craft and walked up the little dock, which had been improved and expanded to accommodate additional yachts. Another ship was already tethered to the moorings. B.J. explained that it was owned by fellow retirees from Space Programme who had shot up the ranks with Steinhart during his long career. It didn’t take too long to find them, either. There was a pristine beach off in the distance, with six tanning bodies laying out on the white sands or seated on chairs. B.J. encouraged her new guests to join them.
“Let me introduce you to the others!” she exclaimed, staggering off the ramp onto the wooden dock, which had been replaced with brand new planks and several new pilings to withstand tropical storms. “You’ll like our friends, I’m sure. We’re all lazy beach bums now. No one has a schedule anymore. We just live off our retirement from the military and drink all day in the sun. Schnucki talks with ’em in German and French. I just fuck his legs off every few days and make drinks for the guests. Pretty good life, I’d say. Better ’n I’d expected.”
Who could argue? In fact, it was more than that. A picture-postcard paradise. The kind people might see in electronic magazines, staged to show a leisurely existence largely unachievable for the masses of hard-working souls back on the continents of North America and Europe.
Yet they had this all t
o themselves. A trail, paved with wooden beams and a railing, led up to the main house. A few cute little sky-blue bungalows lined a small rise looking out at the ocean. Breakfast was served in the main dining area at 09:00. Guests could go down to the beach and drink Margaritas until lunch would be announced, typically in the mid-afternoon. Usually there’d be a buffet set up with fresh fruits and grilled vegetables along with seafood caught that very morning.
Couples would then slip back to their bungalows for a nap—or make love with each other whenever they were in the mood. Head back down to the beach at dusk for a cookout and bonfire out on the sand. More Margaritas, perhaps, or maybe bottles of Mexican beer from the mainland. Stagger back to the bungalow and sleep it off ’til morning. Next day do it all over again. Eventually every day melted into the next...until the days became weeks and the weeks became months.
And those four happy young people promptly took full advantage of it. No one ever dressed. Walked around in the nude, or topless with a towel around their waists most of the time. The other guests did the same. Most were older, in their forties or fifties. Some were in their sixties! It didn’t matter. They were all kind, engaging, and terribly interested in their new, noticeably younger neighbors.
To them Ozzie and Shamiso were adorable. The wives got quite a jolt seeing Ozzie’s big long penis, too. The husbands got a rise out of seeing Shamiso’s lovely body, all chiseled and muscled from her dance training. Meanwhile Zero and Young-Min Jo were equally well received. Zero’s muscly curves and shaven crotch were just as delightful and fetching to them—the women as well! Everyone spoke fluent English. Chatted with the two lovely couples for hours. Welcomed them right in.
“Nur ein Schwein trinkt allein!” they’d yell, toasting the four, and inviting them to join their drinking parties. And those festivities would last until well past 22:00 almost every night. They simply couldn’t get enough of Ozzie, Shamiso, Zero, and Young-Min Jo…
But each day, almost every afternoon, the four would eventually find themselves alone, a few hours after lunch, or right about the time dusk fell over their exclusive island paradise. The older couples often slipped away to their bungalows to snooze, and rest up for yet another night out on the sand partying it up. Steinhart would often come down to hang out with them, B.J. in tow, if she wasn’t already there that is, cracking jokes with them and telling exciting stories of their time in space.
On one such afternoon however, he arrived carrying an electronic notepad. B.J. wasn’t with him this time. It looked like he had business to discuss, though his countenance was far different than the stern expressions he used to display when they’d known him a year earlier. He was certainly a lot more tanned than back then, too!
And though he was walking briskly, like they’d seen him do back on the ship so many times all those years traveling through the galaxy on the Santa Maria, he had a spring in his step—an air of excitement that indicated he had important news for them; or at least one of them. The conversation suddenly faded, as they sat in a row, with their brightly painted cedar wood Adirondack chairs placed up against each other in the sand, girls in the center, holding hands with one another.
They saw the Captain approaching from the side, as he stepped off the wooden path leading down from the main house and turned to head toward them. Even with his broad-lensed sunglasses splayed across his face, they could see he was determined to discuss something important. Ozzie instinctively sat up straight to address his former captain.
“At ease Guerrero,” hollered Steinhart militarily, noticing Ozzie starting to rise from his chair. “Please, stay seated.” He then grabbed a nearby lawn chair and planted it in front of them. He was wearing a turquoise Mexican-style shirt with embroidered designs on it and sandals, plus some wrinkly white Bermuda shorts. A big straw hat sheltered his head from the sun.
“A word with you, please?” he then said, as he got closer. It was like that time on the ship when Steinhart had approached then Lt. JG Guerrero for his advice on shaking up crew assignments on the Santa Maria. When he asked it that way, the other three started to sit up like they should give the two men privacy. That’s not what Steinhart meant either.
“All of you can stay, this pertains to everyone here,” he stated, as he calmly sat down in the lawn chair, and handed the electronic notepad over to Ozzie. In the brightness of the sun, it was practically impossible to read, so Steinhart summarized.
“This document was sent to me a few days ago, right before you arrived in fact,” announced Captain Stehter. “I wanted to save it until you got close to the end of your vacation, but uh, B.J. thought I should address this now. Since I’m retired, I only have to answer to her now, so...well, there you have it. Lass los.” Everyone snickered. Zero especially.
“You’ll find these are orders from Space Programme. This was to be saved for when you returned to duty, but I still have lots of friends back there, as you may know. It was leaked to me when my former colleagues knew you’d all be coming down to the island. I hope you don’t mind.” There were no objections. Ozzie tried reading it, then passed it over to Shamiso who couldn’t make out what it said either due to the brightness of the afternoon sun.
“You’ve been restored to your previous field ranks—your promotions to Lieutenant Junior Grade that is—both Ozzie and Young-Min. And I’m also proud to say, you’ve all been assigned posts on the Nautilus, which is returning in a year and will be fitted out for yet another voyage to Kapteyn B. They want to expand the colony again, ladies and gentlemen. New colonists. New equipment. More factories. Larger settlement. It’s all in there. Read it later if you like.”
Ozzie’s eyes lit up. Young-Min Jo squeezed Zero’s hand excitedly. Shamiso gasped.
“That’s right, they want you three to join the new crew onboard. This is something to be very proud of, I assure you. Very few of the previous crewmembers were offered something like this. You’ll be departing once Nautilus returns and is refitted for the journey.”
There was a pall of silence as everyone in the group looked at Steinhart in shock! Heretofore they’d figured on getting assigned to some lowly desk duty for the next ten years—or perhaps some cake assignment training new astronauts at Space Programme. Ozzie had been telling Shamiso all along this might be the case. Fancied himself teaching new recruits in a classroom up in Florida—perhaps with Shamiso working in a similar capacity nearby. Not so. Now he was almost afraid to make eye contact with her. Wondered how she was reacting to the news and quite hesitant about finding out.
“So that’s the deal huh, Captain?” asked Ozzie, fishing for the right words to say. He knew how he felt. Only question was could he get Shamiso to join him? He was more than willing to accept the assignment. But would she? If not, she’d have to wait for him back in Germany (or wherever they sent her) until Nautilus returned three years later. Not a good way to start things off—if they decided to get married and have children. Besides, there was no telling how many times they’d ask him back for future missions! Ozzie approached the matter delicately.
“Well, y’all, I know what I’m thinkin’. How ’bout you? Wanna go back? Go back to that God-awful place and whip things into shape? Ya’ gotta admit, we’re veterans now. Ain’t no better choice than folks who’s been through it, right?”
Shamiso didn’t respond for a moment or two. It certainly wasn’t what she’d expected! But Ozzie was her man. If he went...she needed to be with him. Care for him. Protect him. Make sure he made it back. Problem was, they were in a relationship. One that was well known at Space Programme. If they married, this might disqualify them from the mission. It was against military protocol to have wedded couples on the same ship together. Good reasons for that, too.
“I’ll go, love. If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’d never let you chance it by yourself. Anyway, that’s not the problem. What if I get pregnant? Did they consider that? Or is the offer contingent upon us remaining single? You know the rules as well as I do, Ozzie.”
She sighed. Squeezed Ozzie’s hand, and looked at him again, smiling proudly. “I understand, Love. If that’s what you feel you need to do, then I’m with you to the end.” She then turned to Steinhart and nodded obediently. “We’re in, Captain. Tell ’em we’re doin’ it. God help us, but I guess if you take one then you get the lot.” Steinhart smiled in response, acknowledging her loyalty.
Subsequently there was yet another silence, as they turned their attention toward Young-Min Jo, who was containing his enthusiasm but obviously wanting to join his friends once again in space. The challenge was, he had a whole new issue to consider, and that issue was sitting right next to him, gripping his hand tightly.
Zero: What was to become of her? Shamiso now felt bold enough to address this matter with their former commander.
“But Captain, if you please sir, I’m afraid that only leaves one big problem for us...if you don’t mind me sayin’. With all due respect, our trio it seems has become a quartet. Our threesome has turned into a foursome. What I mean is…”
“Oh yes, I have considered that,” interrupted their old captain. “Zero. Young-Min Jo has a lot to think about before accepting this assignment. That’s precisely what B.J. pointed out to me, by the way.” He then shifted in his chair to stand up. “We know this—though Space Programme would have little knowledge of it I’m sure. Besides Monika Steckel of course. However…” he then added, as he stood and looked down at them, “if I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m sure if there’s anything you need, I’ll be able to put a word in. As I said earlier...I still have lots of old friends back in Darmstadt.”
