by Dani Stowe
A breeze passes over my body, the chill wraps its arm around my shoulders. More laughter erupts from in the shack and I turn to hurriedly make my way back in but I stop when I see a large brooding shadow ahead.
Captain Willis has his arms crossed. He stands with his legs far apart. The light of the shack’s interior from behind him makes his details difficult to make out but I know it's him. He so large.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I feel like I’m about to get in trouble. Of course, it shouldn’t matter to Willis about what happened between Levi and myself but I feel shameful knowing Willis was watching us kiss.
I take a few steps towards the beach house and I see Willis’s head rotate above his bulky shoulders as he watches me get closer to him. I look at his legs again.
Legs!
Covered with flesh!
And muscle. Thick muscle.
He shouldn’t intimidate me but he does. This form he’s in—as a man—is more intimidating than when he was in the shape of ice or a wall of water. For someone who has not walked in centuries, his has an incredibly sure and strong stance.
Oddly, I feel guilty. I’m trying to figure out how and why the captain came to acquire legs. And why is here suddenly?
I pause, stopping to stand but two feet away from him, although I don’t look at him. We both say nothing but I can hear him breathing. In and out the air moves through his body and I’m wondering how he feels about it. Breathing. I would think he would be rejoicing—skipping, running, hanging out in the house with the other seamen laughing.
Instead of being out here with me.
I take a chance to glance in his direction but quickly look back down at my toes. From what I saw in the dark—one downwardly angled brow with the other raised, Willis looks angry. The sand beneath his bare feet stirs and his breathing picks up.
“I’m disappointed,” he says.
I rub my arms. “Oh? About what?”
Is he not happy that he’s human now? Or is he upset that I rejected his jewels?
I finally look Captain Willis in the eyes. Beautiful eyes I’ve known forever are even more beautiful now that they are in their sockets, sparkling like diamonds in a dark cavern.
“That kiss the demon gave you—it was weak.” He smirks.
“The demon?” I cross my arms.
“Levi,” he says lowly. “He doesn’t know how to kiss a woman properly.”
“Oh, and I supposed you do,” I scoff. “I’m sure you know a lot about kissing women. Like you were saying, I’m sure you’ve kissed a lot of women, whoring women, back in your days before...” I spy his legs again.
“Aye,” he nods. “I do. I did.”
I swallow. Willis is nothing like I thought he would be. He’s much more... I don’t know... rough? Tough? Egocentric and... manlier than I thought he would be. I thought he would be sweet, humbled by the curse that’s contained him for centuries.
Clearly not.
I march back towards the shack entrance. “Well, I’m not that kind of girl.”
“I know, and I’d like to keep it that way,” he says, bending forward as I cross his path. I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing when he picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I shout, smacking his back. What the hell does he think he’s doing?
“Don’t fight, Athena. The goddess of wisdom was not made to fight but she was made to be won. You need a real kiss. A strong kiss, but I need to wash that demon filth from you first.”
Wash that demon filth? What in the world?
Straining my neck to lift my head, I see we are headed past the beach house and towards the shore. Willis’s strides are long but smooth. He seems calm and at ease, which is the opposite of what I’m feeling. My pulse is racing.
Within seconds we are at the shoreline and my heart has fallen into my throat. I yelp, clawing and then twisting at Willis’s shirt.
I think he is about to throw me in the water!
“Willis,” I cry out as his strides slow against the waves pummeling against his shins and then his knees and his thighs.
He pulls at me—my legs—which are trying to remain wrapped tight, clenched around him as my hands are now pulling at the waistline of his jeans above his ass.
“Willis, damn you. I don’t want to get wet. Plea—”
Too late.
With both of his hands lifting me at my hips, I am tossed to find myself in the air and then head underwater.
Kicking my feet and waving my arms, I try to get my bearings so that I may swim to the surface. But instead, I am grabbed at the wrist and pulled. Quickly, my head emerges and before I can blink an eye, a finger—a thumb—is at my mouth.
I poke out my tongue trying to spit out the thumb that is now invading me. I twist my hands around Willis’s massive forearm, trying to get him to stop. More fingers make their way into my mouth and I feel like he’s scrubbing away at the interior.
Trying to fight him, I squeal, “Sto—,” but only find myself completely submerged, pushed underwater once again.
Willis repeats this process, pulling me to him to wash out my mouth and scrub over my lips and then inside my oral cavity before he pushes me under again and again. And just when I think I can’t take anymore because I can’t breathe, Willis’s tongue finds my own and we are kissing.
I’m not surprised to find the Captain has lied. There’s nothing “proper” about his kiss at all. His tongue reaches so far back into my throat that I have to push on him. And he’s groping me. His hands squeeze at my hips, my sides, and he claws at my ass.
He grabs my breast and now, I can’t breathe! My lungs are about to collapse under his touch.
Fighting for a gasp of air, I inhale deeply when he finally withdraws his tongue only to lick up my neck.
The sensation forces my back to arch up and into him. He groans as his tongue slithers back to my lips—this time his tongue tip slips repeatedly in and out of my mouth with a sweet little suckle and I melt. His arms snake around my waist to keep me supported.
He squeezes. His thick arms make me feel so thin and fragile. He could break me if he wished. His kiss comes harder again. His arousal is also hard at my thigh and I push on him more firmly, pulling my mouth away.
That...
That was a kiss.
“Captain,” I exhale, looking into his eyes and remembering his curse as he holds me loosely. “If you wish to stay a man, you must lay with a woman.”
He puts his nose to mine before he chomps on my bottom lip and tugs. “Two days,” he growls and drops me.
Down I go, waving my arms around and desperately trying to get my feet planted on the ocean’s bottom once again. When I finally pop up to smear seawater away, I see the Captain’s back is already to me.
Isn’t this just like him! He’s kissed me and has immediately put his back to me.
“Willis, what do you mean ‘two days?’ Where are you going? Why are you leaving me again? Why will you never talk to me?”
“Because I’m at war,” he shouts back, “A captain never gives away his battle plans and I only have two days. Two days to make you fall in love with me and not the me you’ve been obsessing about your whole life, but the me that is in front of you now. The me that needs to win this war and put down your demons.”
Shelley is sweet enough to let me shower and lend me some clothes. By the time we are nearly finished with the flyers, I realize how tired I am after enduring all the events of the evening. I didn’t kiss one but two men and although each kiss felt right, I must say the second one left me in a doozy.
I’m still trying to understand exactly what Willis meant with his war speech and why he keeps referring to Levi as a demon.
I’ve also made several attempts to find out by asking Willis exactly how he was able to transform back into a man, but he is reluctant to give any details. He simply ignores me as the other seamen do whenever I ask for insight. I don’t understand because there’s no way I’m
going to fall in love with someone who is going to continue to ignore me, keep me out of the loop just as he did before.
As the last round of flyers is drafted, I catch myself yawning and ask Shelley if she wouldn’t mind taking me home. But she yawns too, which triggers a round of yawns to circle between fatigued women and drunken seamen.
Kumiko suggests that I stay for the night, which I reluctantly agree to do. I tell myself I’m only staying because heaven forbid anyone should get into an accident due to sleepiness on my account.
Naturally, I take it upon myself to finish the last of the flyers, which means I’m the last to emerge from the restroom, with my glasses, and ready to go to bed. Of course, there are no beds left, only a patch-worked couch which is occupied by a burly, blond seaman who is half naked and grinning, wearing only a pair of briefs that must belong to one of the other men because it is clearly too small for him. The crown of his bulge is ready to rip through. He holds a blanket with one arm held up in the air like a welcome sign inviting me to take the only open spot left available—on the couch, in his arms.
“Come now, Athena,” he says, as I shuffle with my feet.
“Maybe you should sleep on the floor,” I suggest.
“Ha,” he laughs, peeping over the edge to look at the wood floors before he looks me over. “This is my first night back among the civilized. I want cushions. I deserve cushions,” he groans. “Bring it here.”
Bring it? As in bring myself?
“You’re not at all what I thought you were going to be.”
“No.” He lets go of the blanket and strokes his hair back. “And I tried to warn you. I turned you away many times. But here I am. Because of your persistence.”
“Are you saying I’m the reason you’re here?”
“Aye,” he acknowledges.
I’m unsure if I should be happy or remorseful he went through the trouble. “You made a deal with the witch, didn’t you?”
“Aye, but we’re not discussing that tonight.” He reaches his hand out, curling his fingers, signaling me towards him. “Come. Rest with me. I have not slept for centuries. I had no idea I’d missed the feeling of my body eager to rest. All these sensations I’d forgotten are overwhelming. Come, lay with me. Tell me a story. Whisper to me. Let me hear you with my own ears.”
I’m the reason he’s here. I’m the reason he’s here. I’m the reason.
I repeat the words in my mind like a chant, remembering this is what I thought I wanted but I’m dying to know.
What did it cost?
I decide to lie down. My eyelids are so heavy and although the Captain did scrub my mouth out with his fingers and his tongue, I get the feeling he’s not going to do it again. At least, not tonight.
When I approach, I turn my back to him before I place my glasses on the side table and plant my butt down, lifting my legs and leaning my shoulders downward to nestle my back into him. His thick arm folds over me before he pulls me tight and flush against his heat.
The house quickly falls silent and all I hear is the air—Willis’s air—blowing over my ears along with the ocean spreading its reach over the shore outside.
But my ever-curious mind cannot rest. “What is it like to be made of water?”
“You are mostly made of water,” Willis replies. “What does it feel like to you?”
“Please,” I chortle. “You know, it’s not the same.”
“No,” he says, sneakily moving his hand over my breast to cup it, which makes me pant. “Mmm,” he massages. “It’s most definitely not.” He nuzzles his face into the back of my neck. “A story, Athena,” he begs. But before I can even open my mouth, he lets out a snore.
11
Athena
Two days. That’s what he said. He said he has two days, but I’m curious as to exactly when those two days begin and end.
Are we talking forty-eight hours? Or is this a Cinderella thing where he’ll be forced to return to the sea at midnight tonight?
I can’t believe how large he is. As a block of ice, so smooth, he seemed less elongated than he looks now with all those mounds of flesh rippling when he moves. I can’t stop looking at him.
And it’s annoying because other people can’t stop looking at him as well. Women won’t stop ogling.
The gang decided that we would go into town. The seamen love riding in cars. walking on sidewalks, and pushing buttons of crosswalk signs.
I’m not surprised to see all the common things, which I have little appreciation for, Willis finds intriguing. I find it very funny that the thing Willis loves the most is ice cream. In fact, he ends up eating three double scoop cones of six different flavors. When his face becomes a mess of sticky scruff, I finally have to cut him off. I also end up paying for it all, although I don’t really mind as I know the Captain is much wealthier than me. With all that treasure he has on his secret island, I’m sure the man is worth millions.
For an hour, we stroll through Main Street. After we’ve had our fill of snacks, the other couples decide to go on their own way, although I do believe Willis is the reason I find myself alone with him, strolling through the streets and sightseeing.
“Do all of the people of this time hold hands like that,” he asks, pointing to several couples, tourists mostly, holding hands. A young couple, an elderly couple, and even a young mother and father with a baby strapped into a carrier on the father’s back are holding hands.
“Yes, I guess it’s common.”
“That’s very interesting,” says Willis, rubbing his jaw. “In my time, such affection between a man and a woman, such closeness, would’ve been frowned upon. Unless of course…” He bites his lip.
“Unless what?” I’m very curious.
“Unless they were in a brothel.”
I can feel his gaze on me. He’s waiting for a reaction.
I try to remain calm. I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He is after all from another time and I am well aware of the activities of the men of his day. I am an expert, after all, on such behavior of his times.
“Did you visit many of them?” I ask. “Brothels?”
From the corner of my eye, I see him lick his lip before he stands up straight, sticking his chest out. “I did. Does that bother you?”
I can’t for the life of me figure out why we are having such a conversation. I’d always thought that if I’d had a chance to meet Willis in person I’d be asking him about all the things he could do with his powers of water motion. I’d ask him about the creatures, especially the magical ones, the ones I cannot see, which he’s kept in his domain. I’d ask him about history and all the things he’s witnessed—great militaries battling against one another during the great wars and what followed after the birth of my country.
“Why are we talking about brothels?” I scowl.
“Because I have two days,” he says and stops. “Look at that.” He points with excitement.
We have come to the end of Main Street that widens into a curved street with a turn off that heads straight towards a small bay. “The marina?”
“Can we go there?” He puts his hand against his forehead to shadow his eyes from the sun overhead so that he may see better.
This is very odd. Willis has not been away from the sea but for a few hours and it seems he is ecstatic to return. “Why would you want to go to the marina?” I ask. “There are only boats there.”
“Yes,” he says excitedly. “I have not been on a ship for far too long. Come, my goddess, let me see what the fine tech… techo…techno... what was that word Shelley used?”
“Technology?”
“Yes,” he grabs my hand and pulls. “Let’s see what advancements your techno-no has made for me.”
The man is giddy as we stroll along the docks. He behaves like a young boy in a toy store. The Captain cannot keep his hands off each boat he chooses to inspect. Of course, he aims to stroke the bellies of the shiniest, most expensive looking boats and I guess I can’t blame him for wa
nting to smooth his hands across each well-crafted vessel. I’d forgotten he has not touched a ship with human fingers in over two hundred years.
We stumble into an old man who appears to be shining up the front end of his fancy boat. “Would you like some help with that, sir?” asks Willis.
The old man and Willis start talking—sailor talk—I can’t understand a thing or if the conversation is going well with all the squinting and shinnying up of mechanisms going on between them. The old man seems delighted and genuinely impressed with Willis. I’m able to just sit and relax, watching the seagulls dive bomb for food for some time under a small shaded canopy to keep my sunburn from getting worse. But with a friendly handshake, it appears the men have come to some sort of agreement.
Of all the things Willis could ask for, although I’m not completely surprised, he comes over to tell me that he needs money. A thousand dollars exactly! Just to take the old man’s boat out for a few hours.
It’s difficult to agree when I realize I don’t even have that much cash. I’m a librarian paid by the town, a small town, which can’t really afford a library, and which also means I can hardly afford dinner at a fancy restaurant, let alone would I pay for a few hours on what looks like an over-priced private yacht with all of its fancy gadgets, except I’m assured it’s a sailboat.
Willis sees the contemplation in my face. “Is that a lot?” he asks. “The old man says he’s given me a bargain. He says he normally charges twice that. Is he trying to swindle me?”
“No, it’s okay.” I shudder inside. “But will you ask him if he takes a credit card. I can only pay if he’ll take a credit card.”
“The man says he takes all forms of payment, but we must pay in advance.”
Willis is smiling as we make our payment transaction via the old man’s cellphone. Willis is in awe. Never would I have thought in all my studies that meeting a merman would amount to paying for a field trip at sea in luxury.
