“What the fuck are you talking about?” She looked up and him.
He struck her across the face.
“I said be respectful. Is that too fucking difficult for you to comprehend?”
Drew remained silent.
Ryan moved towards the stairs. He told her he’d bring her back a cup of coffee from the galley and that she should shower.
He poured the coffee into a mug. He added cream, sugar, and crushed Xanax.
He returned to the stateroom. She was in the shower, her rope accessory under the door. He’d made certain he used enough rope to allow the use of the shower. He loved the smell of a freshly soaped woman. He set her cup down and sat on the bed.
She entered the stateroom with a towel wrapped around herself, from her breasts to her knees. She had a second towel wrapped around her head. She was so fucking sexy, his own personal Pussy Cat Doll.
She asked him for her clothes.
“I’ll get you a nice robe.”
He opened a drawer and handed her a white bath robe.
“You won’t need any clothes today, but you don’t need to eat naked. Would you like ham with your omelet or just cheese?”
Drew covered herself with the robe and sat on the edge of the bed.
He handed her the mug. She took it, politely — although she didn’t say thank you — and she sipped.
“I’ll take a ham and cheese omelet. Thanks. Why have you raped me?”
“Rape?” he asked. “It wasn’t rape. Don’t be disrespectful like that again; it’s rude. I’ve been a perfect and gracious host, Drew. You fell last night. You’d had too much to drink. I brought you to bed, like a gentleman. I made sure you were comfortable. Then we made love like people do. It was very nice. Don’t mention that ugly word again.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
Ryan ignored her and stood. He went to the galley and made two omelets, buttered toast, and he poured two glasses of pineapple juice. He sat Drew’s plate on the tray he’d previously prepared and he smiled when he sat the tray down in front of her.
“Just like room service at a four-star resort. I’ll eat breakfast with you, but then I’m going to set up to do some fishing. I’ll get you some magazines, or a paperback. If you’d like to read? I have a small library upstairs.”
“You’re not going to take this off, are you?”
“Eat.”
Ryan started to eat his breakfast before Drew touched hers. He paused and looked at her with the sternness of a bitchy nun.
Drew complied and cleared her plate.
He could tell she was hungry. Well, he thought, she was a good girl last night.
He left with the dishes when they’d finished. He brought back a stack of magazines and five random paperbacks. He also had a bottle of water. He left them on the bed without speaking to her.
She said, “thank you.”
He nodded in acknowledgment.
Good. She’s decided not to be a stuck-up bitch.
Once outside in the fresh air Ryan considered the prospect of fishing. He could see Catalina in the distance and the mainland coast even farther in the other direction. It was going to be a good day. It was slightly overcast, not too hot, and the swells were mild. His mood was deliciously wonderful. It was rare that everything fell into place so perfectly for him. If there was a God, he thought, he’d be thanking him, or her, for such a special day.
After a few hours of trolling, a fish hit his lure. It fought him for less than five minutes. It was a decent tuna, but not very big. Maybe twelve or thirteen pounds, he estimated. He used a fish bat to strike it in the head. One well-placed smack and the fish no longer moved. He stored the tuna on ice and went to the wheelhouse. He set the autopilot to head south-southeast, to roughly track the shoreline, to head in the direction of San Diego.
He decided he’d fish for three or four more hours. It would make Jessica happy if he took home another couple of tunas. He couldn’t help smiling even though he was by himself. It was shaping up to be his best weekend on the water ever.
...................
He checked on Drew in the late afternoon. She’d fallen asleep, and he didn’t disturb her.
At dusk, he put away his fishing gear. He’d caught two more fish, and that was enough. Three was plenty. He could decide tomorrow if he wanted to fish again. If he wasn’t in the mood, he’d take his time enjoying Drew’s company and then clean up. Jessica would be happy to see him home early.
He headed to the shower to wash off the salt and tuna blood, telling Drew that he’d start dinner once he was cleaned up.
She didn’t answer him, but he let her slide on this rudeness not wanting any unpleasantness before they ate, at least if it could be helped. He microwaved frozen dinners after his shower, serving them with canned beer and Doritos.
“Dropped to three stars I see,” Drew said.
He ignored her, ate his burrito, and watched her clear her plate.
He asked her if she wanted to smoke weed.
“No,” she said.
He looked at her with a pre-angry stare, head slightly cocked to the left, eyes cold.
“No, thank you,” she said.
He knew her politeness was an act, but he wanted to stay in a good mood and avoid having to punish her for being such a bitch.
“How about some wine instead?” he asked.
Drew told him she felt sick and didn’t want to drink.
He didn’t believe her. What to do? It was Saturday night. He left for the galley to get her meds. He had hoped that she’d become lively and fully participate in their love making, after all, he’d been doing his best to treat her with warmth and kindness.
“Take these,” he ordered.
She ignored him.
Her insolence was too much, he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her to the floor, and kicked her in the ribs.
She screamed.
“Would you like to continue being rude?”
“No. Please,” she whispered.
He held out the pills. “Take these.”
“What are they?” she asked.
“To help you sleep. Go on.”
She complied.
He watched her to ensure she swallowed, she did, then crawled onto the bed, placed her head on a pillow, and cried.
He laid next to her, deciding to make an effort to comfort and console her. Stroking her hair, he told her how much he cared for her, how beautiful she was, and how much she meant to him.
She cried violently, her body shook, and she curled into the fetal position.
He rolled her over onto her back, pulled her limps away from her body, and got on top of her.
“I’ll make you feel better, honey,” he said, touching her face, trying to be tender and soft. He wasn’t erect. He attempted to stop thinking about it, but that didn’t help. It made it worse. The more he tried to will himself to think about being inside her, loving her, being passionate with her, the more frustrated he became. He wasn’t hard. Nothing worked.
“You have to stop crying,” he said. “Please. I’ll be gentle. I’ll show you how much I care for you.”
She cried harder.
He tried to put himself into her, but he wasn’t hard. “Fuck,” he said, mostly to himself, “Stop fucking crying. Stop. Stop. Stop! I’ll really give you something to cry about if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
She didn’t stop, the selfish cunt, so he slapped her face and yelled louder. “You’ve ruined this! What could have been a perfect fucking evening. Drew, you’re treating me like shit here, and being a real bitch. I’m trying hard to be kind, but you’re not making it easy.”
He got off the bed, stood at the edge, and pulled her towards himself. He rolled her over, slapped her thigh, and growled at her. “Shut the fuck up! I mean it.”
She transformed into the silent, submissive, good-girl he needed, and his cock took shaped, ready, hard, and expectant. He pulled her onto her knees, entered her from behind, and thrust fo
r half a minute before his climax, accompanied by a shout of exhilaration, announced his victory. He shoved her onto her side, made eye contact, spit out, “Fucking ungrateful bitch,” before heading to take a piss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Beer's intellectual. What a shame so many idiots drink it.
~ Ray Bradbury
Is it fair to say that when a woman degrades and bashes her man that she’s commenting about herself?
~ Ryan Mills
...................
Ryan guzzled a cold beer. He opened another and sipped as if the can was a glass of Cabernet and not a Miller Lite. He cleaned the dishes from dinner and neatly folded the frozen dinner cartons and placed them in the trash bin. He wiped down the counters, cleaned out the inside of the microwave, and checked the refrigerator for anything that might be going bad.
“Fucking bitch. So goddamn ungrateful.” Spittle flew from his mouth and had to wipe the counter again.
Maybe you should throw her overboard now?
“Bitch,” he said to nobody in particular.
He had left her naked on the bed without any covers, and he briefly considered going to give her a blanket. But he decided it was too much trouble.
“Cunt.”
He opened another Miller and drank it in one shot, the fourth he sipped as he went to the wheelhouse to check gauges and to make sure all the running lights were on. As he checked the instruments, he used a cloth to clean the glass on each gauge while listening to weather updates on the radio. He opened another beer on his way to the stern for a piss. With the beer to his mouth, he wondered if it was possible if he kept drinking while pissing to become a perpetual fountain and then he lamented that he couldn’t fuck for much longer than it took him to empty his bladder; it always seemed that once he started fucking it was over.
When he went back to the stateroom the woman, the ungrateful cunt, stirred at his presence. He stood at the foot of the bed and spoke in the most polite voice he could manage, he wouldn’t sink to her level, he was better than that.
“Drew. I’m going to smoke a little and have another beer. Join me? We should have a good time. It’s Saturday night. Come on. Let’s make up and have fun?”
Drew rolled over.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“Don’t be so moody. Come on. We’ll have fun. It’s the weekend. I have to head back tomorrow afternoon. You have a whole night to enjoy yourself. Don’t waste it.”
Drew looked at him.
“I’ll come drink with you if you take this off.” She lifted her ankle.
Ryan considered her proposal; escape was nearly impossible as they were miles from the shoreline but she could try to hurt him. Getting injured wasn’t in his plans, but rough play would be fun. Drew was petite and still had drugs in her system; he was confident he could handle her.
“Okay. You promise to have a drink, smoke, and be pleasant?”
She nodded and showed her teeth in a warm smile.
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He removed her restraint and pointed towards the galley. “After you.”
“May I?” she asked, pointing to the robe.
He nodded and watched her dress. Her beauty was mind blowing, even dressed, even without makeup. He followed her into the galley and motioned to the bench seat. He placed two beers on the table, retrieved his stash box from the cabinet above the microwave, and sat next to her at the table so that she was boxed in. Ryan looked at her while he packed his glass pipe, it was exciting to watch her and fantasize about what they’d do next. She was a tease, but with a tad of prompting her inner porn star showed up. Drew was an amazing lover and the fact that she could carry an intelligent conversation too? That was priceless. Beauty and brains. He was a lucky man.
“Drew?” he said. She had been staring off into space, but looked at him and made eye contact. “Would you like to hear some more fish stories?”
“No,” she said. “Can we talk about why you are doing this to me?”
“Doing what?” He took a hit from his glass pipe and then handed it to Drew.
She took it from him but didn’t smoke. “Keeping me drugged. Hitting me. Abusing me.”
He looked at her but said nothing, instead, he took back the pipe and inhaled a deep hit.
“Partake,” he said handing her the pipe.
She hesitated, looked at him, but then took a small hit.
He assumed that she wouldn’t inhale, but it didn’t matter as long as she remained polite. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Drew. I’ve admired you for awhile. Kyle was crazy to walk away from you. I can’t imagine. I’m enjoying every minute. Tell me more about yourself.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. Talk to me. Be polite. You know I like polite.”
“I’d rather hear about you,” she said.
Sly bitch. But, okay.
Ryan started talking. What man can resist talking about himself to a beautiful woman?
“I caught three tunas today. My wife, Jessica, she’ll be happy. She loves it when I bring home fresh fish. We have people over for dinner once in a while, and she’ll make everything, all the sides, but she always says, It’s the man’s job to do the meat. When the weather is bad, or if I have bad luck, I’ll stop at the fish market when I get back. I still tell her it’s fish I caught, but I don’t think that’s a bad kind of lie. Do you?”
“I guess not,” Drew answered.
“No. I don’t think so, either. I don’t think all lies are wrong. When you’re protecting someone’s feelings, it’s good to lie. Like you being here with me, for instance. I wouldn’t tell Jessica I had a woman friend on my boat. I wouldn’t say that we’d had a great time together. That would hurt her feelings. I definitely wouldn’t tell her how fantastic you are in bed. I wouldn’t want to compare. I don’t think that’s considerate. You know what I mean?”
“Do you hit her too?”
“That’s rude. I’m not talking to you about sex with my wife. I haven’t asked you about how you fucked with Kyle. It’s none of my business. Besides, I don’t think everything between us is just about sex, Drew. We have a lot in common. Our interests in school and intellectual pursuit, for example. We’ve read a lot of the same books. We could have been good friends. I wished you hadn’t been so rude to me.”
“What would that have changed?”
“It would have changed everything. I was working very hard to find a normal girlfriend. Like the French do. A woman I could spend time with. A woman I could do things with that my wife doesn’t like. A girlfriend who would come out here and boat and fish and make love.”
“I don’t think rape is making love, Ryan. You should take me back.”
“You’re missing the point. If you hadn’t been such a tease, if you’d followed through on what you started, this would be a different situation. I thought when you agreed to come with me that you saw what I saw, the beginning of a great relationship. But, that can’t happen now, obviously. You know that. It’s a shame, really. I can’t take you back. But we can still have a good time before the weekend is over.”
Ryan hoped she wouldn’t get upset. He’d rather not have to listen to her cry and beg and make a fuss. He’d have to give her pills, and it wouldn’t be as much fun. He thought the rest of the night could be exciting and enjoyable for both of them if she’d only relax and take it easy. Why fight the inevitable?
She was such a good lay. Everything about her was perfect except for the occasional bad attitude which would be the only improvement he would make.
“I hope you’ll relax and have fun tonight, Drew. Would you like another beer? A glass of wine?”
“I’d like you to think about taking me back. We can be friends. Are you seriously planning on murdering me?”
He ignored her question and continued drinking.
“You shouldn’t ans
wer a question with a question,” he said when he broke the silence.
“I’m sorry. I’ll take another beer, sure.”
“I’ll tell you, it’s weird, thinking about life.” He opened two beers and sat one in front of her.
“How so?” she asked.
“How we both got here. You with your modeling and that insane stunt you pulled. Me, I had to deal with enough bullshit to cover several lifetimes.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
She sounded genuinely curious to him. He had a weird feeling, like he was in therapy, because of her disarming composure.
“My life. Old shit. Nothing to talk about now. I’m past it.”
“Yet we’re here.”
“Yes. And yet, here we are.”
“So talk. You’re the one that wants to be friends.”
“I had an insane family. My mother left when I was very young. I missed her for a long time, but if I mentioned her to my father, he’d yell and scream. According to him, she was a lying, horrible, nasty, good-for-nothing, cunt, bitch, whore, worthless piece of shit.”
“So your dad trained you up to be a misogynist.”
“No. Not really. I just learned to hate the fucking stupid ones.”
“And what makes a woman fucking stupid to you?”
“The ones who lie as if we don’t know they are lying. The untrustworthy ones who betray you. The ones who tease, who show off their bodies, but then don’t want to have anything to do with men. They are manipulative and evil. The fucking stupid ones.”
“And you put me in that category?”
“You’re not stupid. I mean in intelligence. In other ways, you’re — well — if you were so bright, how’d you end up here?”
“Touche.”
“My father wasn’t all bad. He taught me to look out for myself. I was caring for myself at a young age.”
“Tell me more.”
Ryan talked for another hour. He felt comfortable. Manly. Confident.
“This must be what it’s like to fall in love,” he said.
Undressed At Sea: A Psychological Thriller (Drew Stirling Book 2) Page 16
