by Afton Locke
“You’re the king.” Henry put his cap back on and left.
Caleb turned to the window behind him, which gave him a bird’s-eye view of the narrow spit of land called Oyster Island. He could see both the plant’s unloading dock on the left and Oyster Harbor up to the right.
King. He couldn’t help smiling with pride every time he heard the nickname he’d earned here. His daddy had established this oyster house over thirty years ago and Caleb made it more prosperous every year. Everyone said he was the most successful man on the island.
At the moment, his cock didn’t care about success. It was still semi-hard despite everything. What was going on? A widower for the past five years, he’d lived the life of a monk. The small island didn’t have many eligible women and he was usually too busy with his work to care. Even his past marriage had lacked passion.
Pearl. Who would ever have thought he’d find a pearl among all the oyster shells?
She’s forbidden, his common sense told him. He had to get these crazy, lust-filled thoughts out of his head before they got him into serious trouble. Why had he asked her to stay late? Being alone with her after hours was the last thing he needed.
Was she married? He hadn’t seen a ring but that didn’t mean much in these hard times. Jewelry was a luxury many couldn’t afford.
Turning around, he drummed his fingers on his desk. He just needed to talk to her and get to know her a little better without a bunch of people around watching, listening and judging. That was all. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he’d surely come back to his senses and forget all about her.
When he looked at his watch, realizing it was almost quitting time, his unruly cock surged again. He would see her soon.
Bill Murdock, the floor supervisor, entered to give him an afternoon status report but Caleb barely listened.
“I see there’s a new one for me to keep in line,” the man said.
A new one. It made Pearl sound like livestock.
“Why did you hire a skinny little colored girl anyway? She can’t shuck worth a hill of beans.”
A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw. “She’ll learn.”
Murdock scratched his cheek and looked with distaste at his fingernails. “If you ask me, they’re all worthless and can’t be trusted.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Caleb replied. “Go tell Leroy Johnson to come up here.”
Heat prickled across his face after the man left. He’d never liked him but why did he especially feel like punching him today?
“You sent for me, sir?” Leroy said when he arrived a few minutes later.
“Yes, Pearl Wilson will be staying late tonight.” Caleb held out some money. “Row your mother and sister home. Then come back and go to the Sapphire Crab. Have yourself a leisurely dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to take Pearl home.”
The young man’s round eyes grew wider. “But, sir. That’s a fine restaurant. I can’t take your money.”
“Leroy, when a gift comes your way, don’t question it. Just take it. You’d be doing me a big favor.”
After he left, Caleb scattered the papers all over his desk, making the biggest mess he could. He had a plan for Pearl Wilson because he had a feeling his curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied in a couple of hours.
* * * * *
Pearl shifted in the hard wooden chair across from Mr. Rockfield’s desk. As soon as she’d arrived, he’d told her to wait for him and rushed off. He’d been gone nearly an hour already.
Through the open door, she heard the floor men below, whistling as they cleaned the dirty floor and oyster tables. Today she’d learned these were the same workers who hauled oysters and shells in wheelbarrows during the day. The smell of sea water drifted in the open window. She could see the whole island from here and watched the white boats turn pink as the sun set.
Even though the man wasn’t here, she felt his essence in the massive desk, important-looking filing cabinets and date book filled with meetings. It made her blood sing in that strange way it had when she’d met him on the unloading dock, just not as strongly. A big wall poster with curly edges from the humidity advertised the oyster house.
The other wall held a picture of Mr. Rockfield in a boat holding a large fish. He looked strong and in charge, as if he could catch anything he wanted. At the bottom, Caleb Rockfield, King of Oyster Island was written in pen. King?
She closed her eyes, imagining the two of them alone on a boat with his arms locked around her, conquering her. Pulling up her dress with those strong, tanned hands and…
Pearl stood, unable to sit and fall prey to such wicked thoughts any longer. She must have clasped and unclasped her hands a hundred times already. What did he want with her? If he planned to fire her, she was sure he would have done it already, but surely she must be in some type of trouble?
The last thing she wanted was to give Wilma bad news. She didn’t want to let the family down since they’d opened their home to her. Nevertheless, she was not sorry to be away from the Johnson cottage this evening.
Mr. Rockfield certainly wasn’t very tidy, she thought as she glanced at the mess on his desk again. The housekeeper in her needed to clean it up but she didn’t want to anger him by touching his things. Unless this was a test. Maybe he wanted her to clean it up. If only life weren’t so complicated on Oyster Island.
The building was quiet now. The floor men must have finished and gone home. Unable to stand any more idleness, she dared to pick up papers from the floor and put them on the desk. Bolder now, she put the papers into neat piles, using the oyster-shell paperweights to hold them in place.
Oysters, she thought as she ran her finger over the rough edge of one of the shells. They were everywhere.
The office door closed with a thud, causing Pearl to gasp.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Rockfield took off his boater hat and hung it on a hook by the door.
Pearl took a deep breath to slow her racing heart. “I didn’t want to be idle so I straightened things up. I hope you don’t mind.”
His face looked solemn and unreadable again, as it had when they’d first met. When he finally smiled she was so relieved she wanted to hug him.
“Thanks,” he said. “It looks much better. Things get pretty messy during the day.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” she said.
When he touched her bare arm, the unexpected feel of him nearly sent her out of her skin.
“Stop looking so worried.” He winked at her. “You’re making me nervous.”
He set the basket he’d been holding near the edge of the desk. The scent of fried chicken made Pearl’s mouth water.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Your dinner. You didn’t think I was going to keep you here without feeding you, did you?” he asked as he sat down behind his desk.
“Thank you. I’ll take it downstairs to the lunchroom,” she said.
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said easily. “Eat it on the desk where I set it so we can talk.”
Pearl couldn’t help smiling at the small feast when she took the cover off the basket. The chicken, fried a deep, golden brown, a biscuit, corn, and a small container of milk looked better than anything she’d eaten since leaving home.
She took a bite of chicken but having that pale gaze fixed on her from across the desk nearly made her forget how to swallow.
“What would you like to talk about?” she asked.
He leaned forward and folded his hands. “I want to know more about you. Where are you from? What brought you here?”
She wiped her hands with the cloth napkin from the basket. “I’m afraid my life isn’t very interesting, Mr. Rockfield.”
“It is to me and I have all night,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And you can call me Caleb when we’re alone like this.”
Permission to use his first name? She could hardly believe it. He had to be the most unusual white man she’d ever met, not to mention the handso
mest. With his hat off, she was able to study his hair. It was short on the sides and longer on top. She couldn’t help wondering how the dark, shiny locks would feel sliding through her fingers.
She looked at the fishing picture again. “But if you’re a king, don’t you have a title?”
He looked at the picture too and smiled. “People around the island just call me that because I’ve been successful.”
She concentrated on swallowing the last of her biscuit instead. It was hard to stop looking at his face, serious one moment and jovial the next. Not knowing what to expect from him was like balancing on the sharp edge of an oyster shell. He looked very serious now so she had to at least tell him something about her life as he requested.
“I’m from Annapolis,” she began. “My mother was a housekeeper.”
“Then straightening my desk must have been second nature for you,” he commented. “Tell me more. Where is your mother now?”
She didn’t want to tell him about the sad circumstances that brought her here but his pale stare was relentless. Everything came out, from Mr. Stuart’s furniture auction to the heart attack Mama had not long after hearing the news she’d lost her job and home.
Pearl finished her meal and stood to put the cover back over the basket. “Thank you for the dinner. It was delicious but I should be getting home now. You said you’d make arrangements for that?”
The chair squeaked as he stood and walked over to her. Her breathing grew rapid as he stood close to her, closer than he had on the dock.
“We have some time yet.” He reached out and caressed her chin with a hooked index finger. “I want to tell you how sorry I am about your loss.”
“Th-thank you.” Heat flooded her veins as his touch resonated in every part of her body. She had to back away. This wasn’t appropriate behavior for either of them but it seemed as if her feet were glued to the floor.
“It must be hard to go from that sort of life to a loud, dirty plant like this on top of losing a loved one.”
“I’m determined to make the best of my circumstances. I have no choice.”
She finally found the courage to turn away from his hand but that made it brush her cheek, which affected her even more. She barely suppressed the shiver of delight that went through her. Why did his nearness and touch have such an impact on her?
And where had the wetness between her legs come from? Caleb’s fresh, breezy scent was muskier than it had been earlier. Maybe that was because her face was so close to the patch of tanned skin exposed by the top of his shirt. The top button was undone and she had an insane urge to unbutton the rest of it and run her fingers across his chest.
He caught hold of her hand and held it up, rubbing his thumb in slow circles over her palm. A small, keening sound threatened to spill from her throat but she managed to stop it. Her step-in panties grew even wetter, and something hot and very insistent pulsed between her thighs. She had to get away from this man before she lost all sense of dignity. If he had any idea how wild and stirred up she was inside, he’d think she’d lost her mind.
“Your hands are too soft to shuck oysters,” he said. “It would be a shame to let them become rough and worn.”
Thankfully, he dropped her hand and common sense returned to her. She even took a step away from him to break the spell he seemed to have over her body.
“You could clean my office instead, after hours.”
She hadn’t expected this. “Thank you for the offer but I need to earn the shucking money for my keep at home.”
“I can pay you a dollar per hour for the cleaning.”
“A dollar an hour!” It must have been the first time she’d smiled in weeks. “Can I do both jobs? I don’t want to be idle all day.”
More importantly, she didn’t want Wilma and Sadie to see her idle. They harassed her enough as it was.
“If that’s what you want, sure. Now that that’s settled,” he said, “I’m going to give you a private tour of the oyster house and a shucking lesson.”
When they went downstairs, she didn’t see a single person. The building was so quiet and the floors were so clean it was hard to imagine the noise and piles of oysters there earlier. It was almost as if they were in a different place altogether.
Caleb showed her the shipping and receiving rooms, explaining how the incoming oysters got loaded in through an opening in the roof. Then he explained the steam sterilizer and the equipment in the processing room where the shucked oysters were cleaned and packed. A stack of cans in various sizes sported blue labels showing a picture of an oyster shell with a pearl in it and cursive letters reading Rockfield Heavenly Oysters.
When she’d come to this window the first time today with mangled oysters, she’d never dreamed she’d be getting a private tour of it from the owner tonight.
“Do you do this for all your employees?” she asked.
For a moment, he resembled a bashful boy instead of the owner of the company. “No. Can’t say as I have.”
“Then why me?”
He shrugged as he led her toward a back room, a much smaller version of the main shucking room she’d worked in earlier. The cream-colored ceiling was low here, giving it the feel of a cozy cabin. A few oysters sat on the table. Had Caleb put them there? Her heart skipped a beat when he locked the wooden door behind them.
“There’s just something about you,” he said. “I can’t explain it.”
She crossed to stand near one of the wooden stalls. Looking back at him and the locked door made her heart accelerate. What did he plan to do to her?
“You’re not married, are you?” he asked.
Now she was almost certain he meant to have his way with her. She shouldn’t have accepted the after-hours cleaning job.
“No. What about you?”
“I’ve been a widower for five years now,” he replied.
Pearl put her hand to her throat. No matter how giddy she’d felt upstairs, she had no intention of being a loose woman. Because he was the boss, he probably assumed he owned her. Maybe he did.
Leaning toward a window, she ran her hand along the sash, checking to see if it could be opened. He gently moved her arm and pulled down the shade of that window and the next.
Oh, Mama. Get me out of here!
“I only locked the door so we could have some privacy,” he said calmly. “Can’t have everyone wondering why I’m giving you a private shucking lesson.”
Daring to turn around, she almost fell over with relief when she noticed an oyster in his hand. He placed it on the block in front of her and picked up the clean knife lying on the table. Apparently he meant to give her a lesson after all instead of attacking her.
He stood behind her, trapping her between his arms as he reached forward and held the oyster. The contact of his entire body against the back of hers erased all the silly fears that had just gone through her head. Mercy, she almost wanted him to attack her. His scent engulfed her, making her giddier than ever.
“The secret is in the first cut,” he said close to her ear. The lilt of his accent wrapped the spell he’d woven over her even tighter.
“You’ve got to be quick and accurate when you cut.” He wrapped her fingers around the knife and guided her hands, making the cut together. “Then she’s easy to spread open.”
The hinged shell fell open with surprising ease under their hands, revealing the slick glob of meat.
“There she is,” he added. “Isn’t that just beautiful? So wet and tasty, just waiting to be plucked.”
Pearl didn’t reply. To her, oysters were ugly creatures but he could convince her of anything right now. When he nestled against her more closely, her eyes grew so wide she was afraid they’d fall out of her head onto the table. Something hard and long pressed against her backside.
Caleb was hard, for her. The nipples of her breasts answered in kind, tightening almost to the point of pain beneath her dress. Thankfully, he stood still. If he moved against her now, she would be completely
lost. She concentrated on the rough surface of the concrete table with all her might.
“You’re standing awfully close,” she whispered.
“I am, aren’t I?” he whispered back. “Do you want me to move?”
Yes! No! Oh Lord, help me. I’ve never felt so weak.
“Show me the next step—with the oyster, that is,” she said quickly.
“Certainly.” He gripped her hand around the knife again and made deft movements to cut the meat from the shell. “Cut here and there. That’s all there is to it.”
“You make it look so simple,” she said, realizing he could pull her out of her shell just as easily.
When he stepped away from her, her legs nearly gave out. It was as if the hardness that had been nestled against her was the only thing that had been keeping her standing upright in front of the table.
He stepped beside her and she watched, fascinated, as he tipped the oyster half with the meat on it to his mouth. Watching the wet creature slide past the dark hairs of his moustache intrigued her in a way she couldn’t explain.
When he bent forward to kiss her, she was too aroused to refuse. His pale blue eyes came closer than they ever had and all she could do was stare helplessly into them. It was as if she floated higher and higher into the sky, never to set foot on firm earth again.
She felt his moustache first, hot and coarse, and then his lips, cooler and wetter. As his mouth worked over hers, something pushed between her lips. His tongue? She met it with hers, stroking with an abandon she refused to acknowledge as her own.
He tasted of the sea. No, not just one tongue. Two? She was too distracted by the heat boiling through her belly to care. When he removed his mouth, she realized he’d put the oyster inside her mouth.
Without thinking, she spit it out and it landed on the floor.
Caleb tipped his head back and laughed. It was a beautiful man’s laugh, musical and deep. Unfortunately she didn’t feel very amused.
“Now Ernie would have a fit if he saw you messed up his clean floor,” he said. “I take it you don’t care for oysters.”
She crossed her arms. “No, I don’t. I thought you had swallowed it. And you shouldn’t have kissed me.”
