Maiden Voyage
a novel of erotic romance
Dreama Faire
This work contains sexually explicit language.
Maiden Voyage
©2004 Dreama Faire
All Rights Reserved
Facing up to her own quiet and lonely life, a spinster college professor decides to follow her fantasies, and books passage on a tramp steamer bound for South America.
Her voyage takes her into the arms of a handsome, but mysterious seaman, and he, in turn, takes her on an incredible journey of passion.
When the games turn dangerous, they flee, isolating themselves into a cocoon of self-examination that surprises them both.
Raves for Maiden Voyage
“This is no ordinary cruise! Cautious Amanda and passionate Nick come together to heat up the waters in this delightful tale of sexual awakening. Dreama writes like a dream!” – Leigh Ellwood, author
“Passionate and seductive, Maiden Voyage was a pleasure to read...The plot was simple yet engrossing...the relationship was electric with its undertones of dominance and submission...Dreama Faire is a great novelist....” – Suni Farrar, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
“[The] passion is hot, unrestricted and will surely have you trying all sorts of new things...” – D.D. Black, Romance Divas
* *
No part of this book may be reproduced or trans-mitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, including internet and e-mail, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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1
For the first time in my life, I can do any damned thing I want! Professor Amanda Barker leaned closer to the mirror. Oooh, that was daring!
Disgusted by the red flush creeping across her pale cheeks, she frowned and jabbed one last hairpin into the red-brown chignon at the nape of her neck. A surge of apprehension rolled through her stomach and she took a deep breath. Would she really be able to do this?
Two steps out the front door, she stopped short, her breath curling on the frosty morning air. The last of the snow had melted, and half-inch green stubs of tulip and daffodil poked through the soggy earth, but the trees remained barren, patiently waiting for warmer weather. A cape of melancholy chilled her shoulders, even beneath the warm parka. Setting off at a brisk clip toward campus, she argued with herself about the advisability of telling Foster Dean about her plans. He wouldn’t approve.
“So what? Whose vacation is this, anyway?” she said aloud.
The sharp words snapped through the cold air and, in seconds, the brief rush of independence disappeared, chased off by thirteen years of deferring to her supervisor.
She opened the heavy door of Crossman Hall, and a whoosh of wonderfully warm air enveloped her. The familiar smell of old wood and tradition lulled her anxiety. I just won’t tell him, she decided, and headed for the office at the end of the dim corridor.
***
Amanda squirmed as Foster peered over the top of his rimless glasses.
“You’re going to what?”
She willed her pulse to stop racing. “I’ve booked passage on a tramp steamer.”
His gray eyes darkened with concern and his brow furrowed. “Amanda, do you think that’s a good idea? Why a tramp steamer? Certainly, you’d enjoy a cruise ship more, don’t you think?”
She looked away, afraid he’d see her deeper intentions. “A student of mine took a similar trip to Greece last summer. She said it was wonderful, every bit as comfortable as any cruise ship, without the expense.”
Shaking his head, Foster pulled the reading glasses from his nose and laid them on the desk. “Your students are twenty years old.” His eyes reflected pity. “Listen, I know the past year has been very hard for you since your mother passed away, but you should give yourself some more time. Take a conventional trip for now.”
“I’m fine, Foster. I want to do this–I need to experience something new and different.”
He didn’t—couldn’t—understand. The past year had been easy compared with the numbing routine of ten years as a caregiver. Eat, sleep, teach, care for Mother. A rodent-wheel life that kept thoughts of anything else at bay.
Foster had been at the helm of the English Department for Amanda’s entire teaching career, and she supposed he knew her well. But Amanda wasn’t sure she even knew herself. With a sudden treasure trove of uncommitted time, she’d grown restless, found her life to be meaningless–a state of mind that dampened even her joy in teaching.
He gazed at her for a moment. “Good luck. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.”
***
Amanda watched the last student leave, then exhaled slowly. She gazed around the classroom, seeing every feature of a learning space that hadn’t changed in twenty years. A tiny ripple ran through the pit of her stomach. Would she return to this room a changed woman? More worldly? Ready for a new life?
She roused herself and glanced at the stack of final exams on the desk. She’d get them graded and turned in by the next day. She wanted nothing to clutter her mind while she explored the possibilities and unknowns of Miss Amanda Barker, spinster schoolteacher.
A soft knock on the doorjamb brought her back to the present.
“Amanda?”
Calvin Ruggles grinned and stepped into the classroom. “Free of the little monsters for a whole month! Catching your breath?”
Prickles of irritation crept across her shoulders. “Buggles,” as the kids called him, had stubbornly—or stupidly, she wasn’t sure which—hung around for the past year, acting as though they were more than just friends and colleagues.
She nodded, gesturing at the pile of papers in front of her. “Hi, Cal. Unfortunately, they left me a farewell present.”
Cal came to stand beside the desk, and she automatically moved a step away from him. He had the damnedest habit of getting too close when they talked, so close she could see the mottling on his uneven yellow teeth, and her own reflection in his thick eyeglasses.
He nodded. “Well, you have all spring break to get them graded.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “How about we celebrate our freedom, and go get a hamburger?”
“I can’t. I have to get these finished by tomorrow afternoon.”
Disbelief knitted his brows. “Why? Jeez, can’t you ever relax?”
A nasty retort sprang to her lips, but she swallowed it. The physics professor was dorky, but brilliant, and he’d been her only source of intellectual stimulation in an otherwise stuffy small-town life.
“Amanda, there’s more to life than work. C’mon.”
She heaved a sigh and gave him a rueful smile. “Okay. Give me a minute to pack this stuff up.”
***
The local diner was unusually quiet, bereft of the throngs of students who usually filled every booth and counter stool. The patrons that evening were other teachers who’d just been given a respite from the onslaught of raging hormones and enthusiasm for life. Amanda headed for a booth in the back, Cal right behind her. They both stopped to chat with colleagues along the way. When they’d settled into the red plastic seats, a middle-aged waitress appeared beside the table, order-pad in hand, a large smile on her face.
“How are you two doing?” She glanced around the room. “I didn’t expect so many customers tonight. I figured everyone would be celebrating down at the tavern.”
Cal grinned at Amanda. “We have four weeks to do that.”
She shifted in her seat and glanced away from his direct gaze. “I’ll have the cheeseburger deluxe, no fries, and a diet soda, whatever you have.”
Cal ordered the same, and the waitress hurried away. For a moment, Cal seemed lost in thought as he arranged the salt, pepper, and catsup into a neat row in the center of the table. He glanced up at her and cleared his throat.
“Listen, I was thinking...why don’t we do something together during vacation? The skiing’s pretty good this year, or we could go down to Boston and soak up some culture. In fact, Figaro is playing at the Boston Conservatory next weekend.”
As Cal spoke, Amanda fiddled with the corner of the placemat, rolling it tightly, then smoothing it out again. A sodden lump grew in her gut. So far, their occasional time together had been in neutral public territory, protected by the trappings of visibility. What he proposed now held a deeper meaning. She looked up from her fidgeting. Cal’s thin, curly hair stood out in every direction, and his ruddy cheeks gave a boyish look to his round face. He wasn’t part of her recent fantasies.
“I can’t. I’m going out of town.”
The disappointment that crushed his features sent an arrow of remorse through her head. He was really a nice man, and she’d continued the charade for her own selfish reasons. He’d been good company to occasionally fill a few of the empty hours in her life–nothing more. But clearly, he’d thought otherwise.
She smiled apologetically. “I’ve booked a cruise to South America. Cal, I just have to get away for a while. This past year has been difficult, and I need to get in tune with myself again.”
He nodded slowly, but said nothing. Their food arrived, and the conversation turned to subjects less personal.
Cal paid the check and, while he waited for change, he pulled out his pen and scribbled something on a paper napkin.
Shoving it across the table, he smiled hopefully. “Send me a postcard?”
***
That evening, in the warmth of her cozy study, Amanda treated herself to a glass of wine to celebrate the end of the semester and the beginning of an adventure. Her rumpled thoughts about Calvin smoothed out, and she sank into her favorite daydream. A dark, handsome stranger, an isolated spot, no fear–and no regrets. She closed her eyes and let her imagination take over. The romance of the sea, the thrill of adventure. Maybe even pirates. Yes, a swarthy, menacing buccaneer who’d sweep her off her feet.
She would cast off her mousy mien and let Fate take her where it would.
2
The pungent odor of sea-soaked wood and decayed vegetation assaulted Amanda’s enthusiasm, and for one terrifying moment, she was positive she’d made a mistake. She should have taken a chance on Boston or the ski slopes. Much more her speed. Calvin, she could handle.
She squinted against the afternoon sun. Huge ships lined up beside the long dock, casting monster shadows against the warehouses and cargo containers that covered acres of waterfront. Busy workers seemed oblivious to her presence. She craned her neck, searching for some clue to the names of the vessels.
A deep voice broke into her concentration. “You booked on ATLAS?”
A muscular black man with warm brown eyes smiled down at her, his teeth flashing brilliantly behind dark pink lips.
“Yes, do you know which one it is?”
The man chuckled and scooped up her two suitcases as though they were matchbooks. “Follow me, but watch your step. There’s junk everywhere.”
Clutching her shoulder bag against her body, she trailed behind him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides, while she carefully scanned the walkway for obstacles. A few minutes later, puffing from the exertion, she stood beside the gangplank of a huge ship.
Her guide’s face crinkled into an explosive smile. “You’ll get your exercise on this one–they don’t have no elevators.” Someone on the ship caught his attention and he waved, then turned back to her. “Enjoy your trip, Miss.”
She stared at the hulk of the ATLAS, lying low in the dark, oil-stained water. Why did I think this was such a great idea? Maybe Foster’s right, and I’m still not myself.
“Miss? Your passage papers and visa, please.”
While the uniformed man paged through the documents, Amanda panicked. I could change my mind. This trip didn’t cost much. If I just pick up my suitcases and—Oh. She stared forlornly at her luggage moving swiftly up the gangplank with the man who’d led her here. When he reached the deck, he turned back.
“You coming, Lady? Or are you just sending your stuff on a cruise?”
She headed reluctantly up the steep gangplank.
A few minutes later, her pulse clattered in her ears and she gulped for air. She’d climbed three sets of steep stairs to reach her cabin. She dropped onto the narrow bunk and tried to catch her breath while she looked around the small room.
A window over the bed took up most of the seaward wall. Two chairs, a small round table, and a combination desk-bureau lined the opposite wall. The bathroom was barely large enough to turn around in, but was complete. A small refrigerator sat in the lower part of a roomy closet, and a full-length mirror hung on the bathroom door.
A blue notebook lay on the desk. Hand-printed wide black letters ran uphill: “Welcome Aboard.” She paged through the information, learning everything she’d need to know about her first bona fide vacation in over ten years.
The view through the cabin window was expansive, if nothing else. Ships of every size and color lined the wharves for as far as she could see. The scene included trucks and cranes and heavy equipment, throngs of dockworkers, flocks of seagulls wheeling overhead–diving occasionally to secure a treasure thrown overboard, then squabbling loudly amongst themselves. The heavy vibrating echo of a ship’s horn punctuated the orderly chaos. She closed her eyes and imagined how the view would be, once the ship left port. Peace and quiet. Privacy in her own little world, far from judgmental eyes. Her first real chance at adventure.
She glanced at the notebook again. Dinner at six in the officers’ mess. I wonder why they use such a peculiar word for the dining room. At home, she’d reach for a dictionary. She grinned and shook her head. That’s my other life. This will definitely be a learning experience.
Thirty minutes later, Amanda had unpacked her meager wardrobe and stowed the empty suitcases in the small space over the closet. She glanced at her watch. She had just enough time for a quick shower before dinner. She peeled out of her clothes and stepped in front of the mirror. Her softly rounded body looked pretty good for thirty-six. Certainly not the hard body that seemed so fashionable these days, but she’d had neither the time nor the inclination to work out at a gym. Her infrequent exercise included only an occasional game of tennis with colleagues, or a little golf.
Full breasts stared back at her with large brown nipples, an endowment she self-consciously camouflaged under loose blouses and bulky sweaters. She smoothed her hands down her thighs and squinted. A little chubby. Her fingers moved across her slightly rounded belly, then touched the small tire around her middle. How much would it take to whittle that down?
For what? Why did she care? Her students saw her only as Dr. Barker, opera buff and Professor of English.
But still her imagination persisted. What would a man think of her body? At the thought of being naked in front of someone, warmth swept across her chest and up her neck. The brown skin around her nipples tightened into rigid wrinkles, sending a prickly sensation deep into the soft flesh. She thought about her long-ago college experiences with the opposite sex. Nothing exciting, or even memorable. Groping in the dark. Kid stuff.
Discarding the thoughts, she stepped into the shower. The sharp sting of hot water sent a shiver across her shoulders, and the soap foamed and bubbled over her arms and chest as she enjoyed the simple pleasure of bathing. Suddenly, a shudder vibrated the floor of the shower, and her feet tingled. The ship was moving, easing slowly away from the dock. A thrill raced through her thoughts. No more fumbling in the dark. I’m in the hands of Fate, and I’m ready for life. Bring it on!
***
Amanda stopped to catch her breath at the bottom of the last flight of stairs. Youthful laughter echoed somewhere behind her and two young girls rounded the corner of the superstructure.
“Hi-ya! Isn’t this exciting? You headed for the poop deck?”
They broke into hysterical giggles, and Amanda cringed. Just what I need–college kids. Talk about a busman’s holiday.
“Follow us. We’ve already checked the place out.”
The tanned boy-bodies skipped ahead of her and along the gangway, then disappeared through a door. Amanda followed, hoping the girls weren’t the only other passengers on the voyage. With luck, there might be another interesting traveler on board–preferably, a man.
The officers’ mess surprised her, though she wasn’t sure what she’d expected in the first place. Paneled in glossy dark teak, the large room had a comfortable, homey feel to it. Curtains framed the windows opening onto the sea, and plush carpet covered the floor. The long dining table was draped in white linen, and formal table settings marked each place. Comfortable-looking, leather-padded chairs lined both sides.
A short mahogany-skinned man greeted her. The tag on his white chef’s jacket proclaimed him to be “Solly.”
“Hallo, Missy. Welcome to ATLAS.” He gestured toward the dining table. “Please, the captain is honored if you will sit beside him.”
Amanda gave him a puzzled look, then sank into the appointed chair next to the head of the table. “The captain knows who I am?”
Solly’s expansive grin crinkled the skin around his merry brown eyes. “Oh yes. Captain likes to know the ladies on his ship.”
He bowed slightly, then disappeared through a doorway. Amanda shrugged and turned her attention to the other guests at the long table. The college girls huddled together at the far end, laughing and whispering. An elderly man sat midway down the table, his attention focused on a thick book. He wore a hearing aid, had a shock of unruly gray hair that hadn’t seen a barber in some time, and his body language made it clear he didn’t want to socialize. Amanda felt a stir of disappointment. If this is the passenger list, I’ll be doing a lot of reading and sleeping.
Within the next ten minutes, staff officers of assorted sizes, shapes, and nationalities filed into the room and took their seats. Amanda nodded to those who met her eye, and wondered what they thought about having tourists on board. Suddenly, the men leapt to their feet as a great bear of a man ducked through the doorway and grinned.
In three long strides, he stood beside her, bowing and offering his hand.
A thick Scandinavian accent resounded through his words. “Captain Lars Olsen, your servant.” His brilliant blue eyes twinkled. “You are the schoolteacher, yes?”
Blushing with delight and astonishment at his gallant manner, she nodded as his large calloused paw lifted her hand to his lips, his well-trimmed blonde beard tickling her fingers as he kissed them. He beamed at her, then gestured for her to sit.
Settling his large body into his own chair, high spirits colored his booming voice. “So, everyone is hungry?”
The room echoed with the amiable conversation of men who spent long stretches of time together. Solly began serving the meal, and Captain Olsen turned to Amanda.
“You are ready for adventure on the high seas, no?”
His mischievous grin threw a jolt into the pit of her stomach. The new bold and free environment felt strangely exhilarating and, at the same time, a little daunting.
“I’ve never been on a ship before, so this will definitely be an adventure.”
“Ah, goot! Tomorrow I will see that you have a tour of ATLAS. She is a beautiful ship, and you must see everything.”
He raised his wine glass to her, then took a large gulp. Turning his attention to the feast in front of him, he enthusiastically speared a clump of juicy meat. Amanda stared at her own plate, heaped with more food than she could possibly eat. So much for slimming down.
After the meal, most of the staff returned to their stations and Solly poured sherry while Captain Olsen addressed his passengers.
“Introduce yourselves, please. We will be one big, happy family for next three weeks.”
He gazed intently at Amanda, sending an uncomfortable flutter through her stomach.
Her voice sounded thin and timid to her own ears. “I’m Professor Amanda Barker from New Hampshire.”
Olsen raised a bushy eyebrow and smiled. “You give me English lessons, eh?”
Amanda’s cheeks burned. “No, I teach literature.”
He chuckled, then turned his attention to the elderly man farther down the table. “And you, Sir?”
“Dr. Chadwick Elleson. I’m a retired surgeon from Baltimore.”
Amanda half-listened to Olsen’s banter, wondering at her reaction to his personal attentions. Was the man coming on to her, or was it just her imagination? She glanced at his bulky body squeezed into the armchair. He wasn’t exactly the type she’d hoped to meet on this voyage.
Laughter rippled through the room and she refocused on the captain’s conversation.
“The charming young ladies will cause me trouble, I see.” Olsen shook his head in mock resignation. “My men will have hard time concentrating on work.”
The two girls at the end of the table giggled loudly at the captain’s teasing. Rachel and Danielle were on their first vacation without parents, and obviously had big plans.
Olsen rose from his seat and gestured expansively. “I go to work now, but you stay as long as you like. Solly will keep your glasses filled, just ask.”
He winked at Amanda, then disappeared through the door. Dr. Elleson retreated into his book, and the girls returned to their whispering. Amanda picked up her sherry and left the dining room.
The transformation of the view that had occurred in just one hour startled her. Dry land was now a narrow strip on the horizon behind the ship and, for as far as she could see in any other direction, deep green ocean touched the farthest edges of her universe. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the sharp salty air stinging her nasal passages. Warm breezes swirled around her, tugging at her blouse and caressing her bare throat. The sherry sang through her system, and she sighed with contentment.
The sun began to sink quickly, casting glorious colors across the deep lavender sky. She stepped onto the gangway that ran the length of the superstructure, then gasped at the force of the wind coming off the bow. Balancing herself against the new energy in the air, she made her way to a spot where she could watch the sun’s spectacular finale.
Leaning on the cold, hard railing, she clutched her glass. The wind tore at her clothes and snatched her hair from the chignon, whipping the long strands into a frenzy about her face. The fiery dark orange ball loomed huge on the horizon, frosting the waves with splashes and glints of glorious color, reflecting the kaleidoscope of pastels from the sky above. So strong and positive, like youthful enthusiasm for life. The sun quickly dropped beneath the flat line of water, leaving a wake of pinks and purples. Gone so soon, like life passing by—so easy to miss. She stared at the fading patterns and felt deep sorrow for all the experiences that had slipped past her, unnoticed.
“You like the sea?” A strong accent sang through the rich, deep voice.
Amanda nearly dropped her glass. Whirling around, she found herself staring into the intense gaze of a very handsome man. He turned his attention to a pile of rope on the deck and began to loop the thick cord neatly into perfect coils, his powerful arm muscles rippling beneath burnished olive skin.
Amanda couldn’t tear her gaze from his movements. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”
She sipped the last of the sherry while she watched him finish his task. Spanish? Italian? His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, enhancing the silhouette of his head and features. High cheekbones, a bit of a Roman nose, a bushy black moustache, a shadow of beard. She drew her breath in, slowly and quietly, as an unfamiliar stir moved through the pit of her stomach. He straightened and faced her, his attention turning that stir into a frenzy.
Dark brown eyes beneath heavy black brows considered her for a moment, then he nodded. “Welcome to ATLAS.” Then he turned abruptly and disappeared down a stairwell.
She exhaled sharply, willing her pulse to stop racing and her insides to stop jigging. The stranger in her fantasies was real. Even the chilly wind couldn’t cool the heat moving across her chest.
By the time she’d huffed and puffed back up the stairwell to the fourth deck, the physical sensation had diminished, but her confusion lingered. Had anyone ever affected her that way? She searched the back roads of her bleak history with men, and knew this experience was a first. The long day and the sherry caught up with her, and she climbed into her bunk, trying not to think about the dark sailor.
3
The mid-morning sun seeped through Amanda’s light clothing, sucking the deep New England chill from her bones. Nestled into a huge coil of rope on the foredeck, she felt like a child again, happily hidden in a secret fort. She focused on the book she’d been dying to read since before final exams. She had tucked it away like buried treasure, waiting for this getaway. Now, she eagerly absorbed every morsel of the scandals and dramatic events of the Metropolitan Opera Company, sighing at the glimpses into the luxurious lives of Pavarotti, Placido Domingo, and Kathleen Battle. The sun worked its magic, the words blurred into dark lines, and she closed her eyes.
“You’ll burn to crisp out here.”
The familiar voice awakened her with a start. She shaded her eyes from the sun and squinted at the black silhouette outlined against the brilliant blue sky.
The handsome sailor lit a cigarette, then leaned against an upright.
“I can find chair. You be more comfortable.”
Amanda found her voice. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” She smiled and glanced down at the dark brown coils encircling her body. The sun glistened on the smooth surface of the rope, and she felt a stir in the pit of her stomach as she ran her fingers over the brown fibers. “I’m quite comfortable.”
He pushed away from the gray steel. “Suit yourself. You will do much laundry on trip.”
Before she could respond, he sauntered away. Uncomfortably aware of her heart thumping beneath her shirt, she watched him disappear around a corner. She returned her attention to the book and struggled to focus on the intrigue described there, but the brief exchange with the dusky-skinned seaman hampered her concentration. Exhaling sharply with exasperation, she snapped the book closed. This is ridiculous. Why does he affect me like this? She smiled at the spot where he’d stood. This was exactly what she’d hoped for.
Climbing out of the rope coil proved to be difficult. The angle at which she sat gave her no leverage to get her feet under her, and the slippery rope curled around her ankles and one wrist. She giggled quietly as she untangled herself and climbed awkwardly to her feet. If I’m going to be bound in ropes, I’d like some company. She drew in a sharp breath and shook her head. Did I really say that?
She continued her mental conversation as she made her way toward the stairway to the upper decks. The sailor was definitely easy on the eyes. His bold expression intensified his dark eyes and strong jaw. What would his smile be like? Would his teeth be perfect and white, gleaming behind those sexy lips? Lips that looked soft, yet firm. What would they feel like, kissing her? Touching her bare skin? Sucking her nipples?
She didn’t see Captain Olsen until they collided.
Her face warmed with a blush. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
His huge hands grasped her shoulders to steady her, but lingered well after she’d regained her balance.
His blue eyes twinkled. “Already lost in sea-dreams, yes?”
Oh, dear, is it that obvious? Slipping from beneath his touch, she smiled.
“Probably. I haven’t had much time to myself lately.”
“You are coming to lunch?”
“In a few minutes.”
He dipped his head, then strode briskly down the gangway toward the officers’ mess.
A few minutes later, she stared into the mirror and brushed her wind-blown hair back into its tidy bun. Surprised by the reflection, she pressed a finger against her pink forehead, frowning as the white spot faded back into the rosy skin.
“How could I burn so quickly?”
Her sailor had been right.
Her sailor? She closed her eyes, amazed by the hold he’d already secured on her thoughts.
As she turned away from the reflection, she caught sight of something on her shirtsleeve. Turning her back fully toward the mirror, she craned her neck to see better. Dark brown streaks rolled across her shoulders and the backs of her thighs. She shook her head as she slipped out of her clothes. Her sailor had been good on two out of two. What else might he be good at? Elusive erotic visions sent warmth crawling between her legs, and she smiled again at her reflection in the mirror. Given a chance, she’d like to find out.
***
The strong aroma of garlic drifted through the door of the dining room, and Amanda’s stomach growled loudly. She eagerly slipped into her chair–she was starving, and whatever they were cooking smelled fabulous.
Captain Olsen tapped a spoon on his water glass, and the room instantly became silent. “I have arranged for a ship’s tour this afternoon. Everyone meets here at two o’clock. Yes?”
She nodded along with the others and sipped her ice water. What she really wanted to do after lunch was steal away for a nap. She threw a furtive glance at the captain, knowing he’d be offended if she didn’t go along, especially after she’d made a point of telling him she had never been on a ship. Maybe the tour won’t take long.
“You are tired, yes?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the captain’s direct question. Was the man a mind reader?
He grinned mischievously. “It will take some time to get used to the fresh sea air. The sun steals energy like a cat-burglar.”
She smiled at the charming metaphor. “Yes, I think I overdid it this morning.”
“After ship’s tour, you can take nap ’til dinner. Great life, eh? Eat, sleep, read...”
The drawn-out hesitation held a suggestive undercurrent, and she looked away, uncomfortable with the idea that Captain Olsen might have more interest than simply her comfort. For all her wild ideas, he wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
Solly saved the moment by placing a steaming bowl of chowder in front of her. “Best fish soup you ever taste. Cook’s special.”
She smiled at the friendly brown face. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
And love it she did. Creamy and rich, chunks of flaky white fish with a touch of dill. Slabs of crusty bread, slathered with butter and garlic, browned to perfection.
“This is wonderful–better than any restaurant.”
Olsen smiled as though he’d personally done the cooking.
One of the crewmembers had coaxed Dr. Elleson into conversation, and Amanda listened while she ate. The trip on ATLAS was not Elleson’s first excursion aboard a freighter. Hearing of his adventures, she felt a pang of regret for the years during which she’d experienced nothing except her career and her care giving–years when she’d always been in complete control, ever the responsible one. The usual aftershock of those thoughts hit her hard. Not for one minute had she ever objected to her lot in life. Well, maybe sometimes, when she was overwhelmed with work, or Mother was especially difficult to handle. Guilt for those few times was something Amanda battled, even now, over a year after her care-giving days had ended.
Still, having a taste of the things she’d missed, however simple, made her wonder how she’d managed without them–and even more determined to catch up.
4
The warm afternoon air and a pleasantly full stomach contributed to Amanda’s drowsiness, while she waited for the tour to begin.
“I am Nicholas. Everyone is ready to tour ATLAS?”
She jerked to wide awake at the familiar voice. Though he addressed the group, the darkly handsome seaman looked directly at her. She nodded, stunned by the prickles of excitement she felt, just being in the same room with him. His eyes narrowed, and a twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at amusement. Amanda’s unnerving excitement smoothed into a warm flush across her face, and she looked away. Trailing the group out of the mess hall, she focused on his broad shoulders. His faded denim work shirt didn’t hide the power beneath. What would those muscular arms feel like, wrapped around her? Crushing her to his hard body? Images from her daydreams slipped in and her pulse jumped.
She pushed them away and tried to concentrate on his tour speech.
“ATLAS weighs thirty-two thousand tons and measures six hundred and twenty-six feet. She can carry six hundred containers, or one thousand automobiles. She was built in 1984 in Norway.”
Though somewhat halting, his English was fairly good, and his manner more refined than she’d have expected for a sailor.
The teenager named Danielle raised her hand. “How fast can she go?”
“Seventeen knots.” Seeing the confused look on the girl’s face, he explained. “About twenty miles per hour.”
“Oh, my God! That’s so slow!”
He shook his head. “On the ocean, is no need to hurry. Haste steals the joy from life.” He threw a glance Amanda’s way, then gestured toward a huge piece of equipment. “This part of ship is called the stern. These winches...”
Amanda’s thoughts drifted again, his comment about haste echoing in her head. To look at him, it was hard to imagine he’d have such profound ideas about life. Her own pursuits in life had always been high–those of education, and responsibility for the future of the country, by way of its youth. Had she ever carved out any time for her own inner well-being? Had she even thought about it? A quick inventory of the years gave her the sad answer.
The tour group began to move again, and she pushed aside the discouraging thoughts of precious time wasted. A furtive glance at the tour guide conjured up plenty of ideas for correcting the situation.
An hour later, they gathered in the noisy engine room. Amanda couldn’t hear a word Nicholas said, but she watched his gesturing hands with growing pleasure, enjoying the way his mustache moved, the glimpses of white teeth, the way his tied-back hair brushed his shoulder each time he turned his head. The more she watched, the better she liked the idea of exploring herself with this man. Question was: How to go about it? Maybe she’d see him on deck again. She could swallow her timidity and be boldly suggestive. That might work, if she could pull it off. Her shoulders sagged. Right.
The group moved toward the bow of the ship, and away from the din of the engine. They entered a small compartment, and Nicholas pointed at a reel of chain with huge links that dwarfed his own substantial body.
“This chain holds the anchor when ATLAS is offshore.
Amanda’s curiosity overcame her normal tendency to hang back and remain quiet.
“Is the chain long enough to use the anchor in the middle of the ocean?”
He cocked his head and stared straight into her eyes, sending butterflies scurrying through her insides in every direction.
“No, only offshore. Is no reason to weigh anchor at sea.” He narrowed his eyes, his expression mocking. “Why would you want to stop in middle of ocean?”
She moved her hand across her waist, following the flutters inside. Danielle and Rachel turned to cast schoolgirl disbelief on what now seemed, even to her, like a really stupid question. She swallowed nervously. Where was the strength and control of a self-confident educator, the molder of young minds? Irritation melded with her embarrassment. Who does he think he is? She opened her mouth to retort, but Nicholas had turned his attention back to the group.
“In port, we use ropes to secure ship to dock.” He lifted a small coil. “Come close, I show you some knots.”
Amanda’s irritation faded as she watched his skilled fingers loop and twist the rope into an intricate knobby design. The memory of the smooth rope against her ankles sent a flash of heat across her cheeks. Nicholas finished tying the knot with a flourish, then held it up for everyone to see. His dark gaze met Amanda’s.
“This will hold anything.”
***
She sank onto the bunk. Two-and-a-half hours of climbing around the ship had exhausted her, and the energy she’d expended admiring Nicholas all afternoon hadn’t helped either. Burrowing her face into the soft pillow, she briefly considered skipping dinner and calling it a day. Her last mental image before sleep was the sailor’s face, his dark eyes mocking her as he lounged against the huge links of the anchor chain.
Amanda opened her eyes to darkness, and lay quietly for a minute, floating with the last vestiges of sleep. A grumble rolled through her stomach, and she squinted at her watch, realizing she’d missed dinner. Now what? She scanned the blue notebook, finding only a reference to something called a “slop chest”–a canteen-type store that only opened for a few hours during the daytime. Beer, wine, liquor, snacks, cigarettes, soap, toothpaste, and so on. Her stomach growled again, and she tossed the notebook onto the desk. Not holding much hope, she padded across the cabin to the tiny refrigerator in the bottom of the closet. A minute later, to her delight, she held a small bottle of white wine and a chunk of cheddar cheese. A small tag read, “Compliments of ATLAS.”
The desk drawer gave up a corkscrew and, from the bottom of her cavernous shoulder bag, she pulled a small penknife. She sat cross-legged on the bunk with a water glass filled with wine and thoughts filled with Nicholas.
Despite the nap, she still felt weary. The wine soared through her bloodstream as she gazed out the window at the sparkling panorama spreading in all directions. Every hollow and swell, wave and ripple of the ocean’s surface reflected the silvery moonlight. Another experience too beautiful to miss. She gulped the last of the wine, then pulled a sweater over her shoulders.
The wind felt cold against her sun-scorched skin as she stepped onto the gangway. A full moon of shattering white hung between small silver-edged clouds, casting an eerie glow over every curve and angle of the ship. She shivered and headed toward the spot where she’d watched her first ocean sunset the night before. The rumble of huge engines hummed through the steel deck, steady and even. Far below, the sea gurgled and boiled against the hull slicing through the water, the only other sound intruding on the peaceful night.
As she stared at the immense patches of black sky speckled with stars, she again felt the heavy insignificance of her existence. There had to be more. How could one go from birth to death with no taste of life? More importantly, how could she prevent it from happening to her?
A sudden warm breeze wrapped itself around her neck like a chiffon scarf, the scent of exotic lands filling her senses. As quickly as it had come, the gust disappeared, leaving in its wake her resolve to change the course of her destiny.
A whisper drifted on the night air. “Is too beautiful to believe, yes?”
She closed her eyes, every nerve in her body aware of Nicholas behind her. She nodded slowly, wanting to turn, but hesitant to face those inquisitive dark eyes.
His soft voice sounded nearer. “‘Timeless sea breezes, sea-wind of the night...’”
A rush of emotion flooded her chest as she completed the line. “‘...You come for no one.’”
A smile colored and shaped his voice. “You know it?”
She turned, relenting to the magnetic pull that controlled her. “Song of the Sea. My mother used to recite it to me when I was little.”
Nicholas’s chiseled features sharpened in the cool moonlight.
“What is your name?”
Only one chance to be glamorous, enigmatic...
“Amanda.” Dammit!
“Ahh, lovable.” He narrowed his eyes and gazed at her for a moment. “Are you?”
Disappointed by her failure of imagination, she faltered. “Am I what?”
His lips parted and white teeth sparkled through the most amazing smile she’d ever seen.
He chuckled. “Lovable, of course!”
Warmth crawled up her neck and she looked away, having no idea how to respond to such a question. He stepped up to the railing beside her and leaned on his forearms, his eyes focused on some distant point. Another warm breeze swirled between them and she caught his male scent. A furtive sensation stirred between her legs, and a shiver of delight raced across her shoulders.
Nicholas looked at her sharply. “You are cold. After such a long day, you should go back to cabin and sleep. The sea takes its toll on the unwary.”
“I’m fine...Really.”
He straightened and stepped back from the rail, giving her a brief nod.
“Goodnight, then.”
His silhouette faded into the shadows of the superstructure, and Amanda felt the sting of loneliness thread its way through her chest, her throat, and into her dreams.
5
The next morning, Amanda stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sleep had been hard to come by. Her head had been too filled with images of the brief exchange with Nicholas. Lovable. Did he mean physically? Or literally? He’d given her the perfect opportunity to encourage him, and she’d blown it. Why? No one would ever know about it–she was hundreds of miles from home. She smiled. Invisibility has its advantages. From now on, she could be exactly what she’d always wanted to be. Exciting and sexy. A vamp.
She sighed. Maybe.
Slathering sunscreen over her pink skin, she idly wondered if she’d end up with a beautiful tan, proof to everyone back home that she’d had a wonderful time. Sun, sea, romantic foreign ports, a handsome man. She shook her head at the schoolgirl thoughts, then slipped into one of her baggy shirts, scooped up her book and sunglasses, and headed for her hideaway on deck.
Ten minutes later, she stared in amazement at the huge coil of rope, now carefully draped with canvas. Nicholas? No, why would he...? Could he be attracted to me? ...No, he’s just taking care of the paying passengers. She dropped into the makeshift hammock and squirmed into a comfortable position. Within minutes, she knew she’d never make it through the chapter, her concentration splintered by thoughts of Nicholas leaning on the rail the night before. His soft voice. Poetry, of all things. Maybe he’s not really a sailor. What if he’s an exiled prince from some exotic country? The absurd idea sent her into a spate of giggles.
“Is funny book?”
She jumped, sending the book flying through the air. It landed at Nicholas’s feet and he stooped to retrieve it. Through his open shirt, she caught a glimpse of black hair curling across his chest, and heat rolled through her crotch.
He peered at the title before handing it to her. “Opera is comical?”
She took the book with an embarrassed glance. “Uh, no, I was thinking about something else.”
He lit a cigarette and watched the wind snatch the smoke away. Amanda tried to think of something interesting to say, but her mind went blank. If she wanted to have a shot at changing her destiny, she’d better learn to take some risks.
“Mr. Nicholas, how long have you worked on ATLAS?”
He glanced at her. “Call me Nick. Four years.”
She relaxed and met his gaze. “Why don’t you ever join us for meals?”
“I am not officer. I eat with crew.”
“Oh...So, what else do you do beside give tours?”
“Cargo management. Am responsible for knowing what comes on board, how is stowed, where is off-loaded.”
He stubbed out the cigarette and put the butt in his pocket. “Have to go to work.” He turned to leave, then looked back. “See you at sunset.”
As he disappeared down a stairwell, Amanda’s heart hammered against her ribs. He isn’t just being polite!
***
After lunch, Amanda retired to her cabin to cope with the unpleasant sensation roiling through the pit of her stomach. Seasickness? She gazed out the window at the calm sea and hazy sky, her focus centering on a black speck of a ship on the horizon. Since the encounter with Nick that morning, her thoughts had been fractured with both anticipation and apprehension. A flutter in her chest sent another wave of cold nausea through her gut, and she crawled onto the bunk.
Would he really meet her at the rail that evening? Had she read interest into his manner, or was it all just wishful thinking? She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in an effort to quell her nausea. Nick’s dark eyes and sexy mouth appeared, and a flicker of warmth moved up the insides of her thighs to lick at her crotch. She slid her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and found the tender, tiny nub. Her fingers fanned the embers.
In her mind, glistening brown skin moved against her naked body, urging her to submit. Large hands caressed her breasts, a soft moustache brushed against her neck, lips nibbling, teeth nipping. The image grew stronger as she stroked her clit, her body tightened with release. She exhaled heavily. The cold lump in the pit of her stomach disappeared, and sleep claimed her.
She woke with a start, her skin slick with perspiration, her hair damp. Every nerve tingled, and she felt limp and exhausted. My God, what a dream! She stared out the window at the sky, trying to push away the strong, fresh imagery, but at the same time, lured back into its spell. The romantic fairy tale visions she’d conjured while she masturbated had faded with sleep, merging into unfamiliar erotic mental pictures.
In the dream, she was naked, tied to the mast with arms behind her, legs spread wide. Helpless. Vulnerable. At the mercy of someone else’s will. Nick leaned against the gray steel superstructure, his dark eyes moving inch by inch over her exposed body, consuming her with his gaze.
“Jesus.”
She scrambled off the bed, her body shaking with the emotional wash of the erotic thoughts. She slipped out of her clothes, and stepped into the shower. The hot water pounded her shoulders and back, and her thoughts returned to the dream. Disappointment caught her off guard. She’d awakened as Nick began unbuttoning his shirt. How did it end? How did she want it to end?
She smiled wickedly. Capture on the high seas. This was her adventure–why not? She began to laugh, her voice echoing off the wet tiles.
“You idiot! There’s no mast on this ship!”
6
The dinner hour dragged by as Captain Olsen regaled his guests with a tale of engine trouble far out at sea. Amanda only pretended to listen, her mind actually concentrating on other things—Nick in particular. A surreptitious glance at the window gave her a view of the evening sky donning its pre-bedtime colors, and a flutter rippled through her chest.
The captain finally finished his story, drained his sherry, and bid everyone goodnight. Amanda breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the door.
Solley’s accent punctuated his words. “Goodnight, Missy. Enjoy the sunset.”
Heat crawled across her cheeks as his insinuating tone followed her out the door.
She’d finally mastered her sea legs, and now instinctively sparred with the buffeting gusts of wind on the gangway. The sky began its slow-motion display as she leaned on the railing, lost for a moment in the sheer beauty of the sea. The air had an edge to it, and she pulled her sweater more tightly around her shoulders.
“Lovable.”
Nick’s voice was close, very close. She jerked and started to turn, but strong hands grasped her shoulders.
“Stay there. You’ll miss sunset.”
Like I could concentrate on anything with you touching me. She swallowed hard, trying to control her suddenly short breath. Under his firm hold, her shoulders burned, the warmth from his hands spreading down her arms, across her chest, up her neck. Tingling, delightful, exciting. The erotic tied-to-the-mast scene from the dream resurfaced in her mind, and she gave up a tiny gasp.
“Is beautiful, yes?”
Yes! The heat burning through her torso arrowed between her legs, briefly filling her with trepidation. My God, what am I trying to do? The fire in her belly grew, and she exhaled slowly, a slow smile spreading over her lips. Any damned thing I please.
Nick’s hold softened on her shoulders, then his hands slid down her arms to the rail. His thick arms caged her body between them, his breath warmed her ear, and his voice sounded husky.
“You are enjoying voyage?”
She couldn’t think straight. His heat seeped through her sweater, an insistent reminder that his body was mere inches away. Her pulse drummed in her ears, and her breath came in tiny puffs.
“I am.”
He shifted his weight and leaned against her. She gasped as a hard bulge pressed against her butt and moved suggestively. Not forcefully or rough, but sensuously. An invitation. No, a promise. She closed her eyes and leaned into his seduction, stunned by the wetness gushing into her panties. With each inviting rhythmic thrust of his hips against her, a throb surged through her pussy, and her thoughts centered on the mental image of her nude body lashed to the mast of a ship. She took the dream further. Nick in naked glory, his cock pointing threateningly as he approached. A cock that would take her whether she was willing or not. Was she?
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her eyes flew open. Oh, my God! I said that out loud! Nick’s hands swiftly left the railing and slid up under her shirt. She tried to turn, but he held her firmly.
“Do not move. Just relax and let it come. You want it, you know you do.”
Yes, she did. For once, she wasn’t the one in control, and the concept was more exciting than she’d dreamed possible.
Nick’s tongue followed the whorls of her ear, sending indescribably erotic messages to her already pulsing clit. Beneath her shirt, his fingers deftly unhooked the front of her bra, then moved to her hard nipples. His calloused fingers grasped the rigid nubs, rolling them, twisting gently, pinching. She felt only the delicious sensation at the brink of pain. She moaned, wanting more, but terrified of her own passion. She wanted to touch him, feel his erection. She tried to reach behind her.
Instantly, he growled, “Keep your hands on rail. If you won’t cooperate, I have to tie you up.”
A sleeping giant awakened in the dark depths, building and rolling upward, filling her pussy with the promise of ecstasy. Nick squeezed her nipples harder, sending delicious arrows of agony through her breasts, missiles that found their target in her clit. Her hips began to move and she squeezed her thighs, beckoning the orgasm she knew would transcend anything her fingers or vibrator had ever produced.
From somewhere, she heard a moan. Was it her own passion breaking free? Was it Nick? She rolled her head back onto his shoulder.
“Touch me. Please,” she whimpered.
“Not yet,” he murmured.
He released her nipples, then tightened his arms around her, holding her firmly against his chest. He nibbled her neck, his soft lips caressing her skin with a feathery touch. Her legs began to wobble as the energy of passion ebbed, pulling her back from the very brink of heaven.
“You are very sexy, Lovable.”
His words brought her back to reality, and embarrassment flooded her thoughts. What had she just done? And with a complete stranger. Miss Amanda, schoolteacher, spinster. All the tags described her perfectly. But this? Where did this fit in? She exhaled slowly, bewilderment dulling her logic.
Nick relaxed his hold, and turned her to face him. The corners of his moustache twitched with a seductive smile.
“The teacher can learn, yes?”
Chagrined, she slipped out of his arms. “I have to go.”
She darted past him and fled down the gangway, her heart thudding, and a painful yearning pulsing between her legs. In the safety of the cabin, she faced herself in the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger–a wanton, lustful visitor who’d appeared without invitation. The pink flush on her cheeks screamed “liar.” The invitation had been issued the moment she’d resolved to embark on this voyage. The dangerous dream had been a summons, the call to adventure, and, for the first time in her life, Amanda accepted her longing.
“Yes, the teacher has much to learn,” she whispered to her new reflection.
***
“Hey, Nikko! You seen those hot young asses yet?”
Nick snorted. “Children. What would I do with girls so young?” He poured himself a mug of coffee, then sauntered over to a knot of sailors at the table.
A stout black man grinned wickedly. “Well, you could fuck ’em, fer starters.”
The men laughed loudly, each adding their own ideas for enjoying the charms of the two youngest passengers.
Nick smirked and shook his head. “Nah. I like women with some meat on ’em, not bony teenagers.” He winked at the darker-skinned man. “But you go ahead, Switch. White meat tastes good.”
His attention wandered from the train of vulgar conversation to concentrate instead on the memory of the schoolteacher. She was a lioness, waiting to be unleashed–he could feel it. Her willing abandon to his teasing had excited him–especially her reaction to his threat to tie her up. His cock stirred again. Yes, this could definitely be one of his more enjoyable voyages.
7
Amanda leaned against the superstructure, shadowed by a huge funnel billowing white clouds of vapor. From that position, she had a clear view of the railing on the bow. Anxiety tightened her chest, rooting her feet to the deck, making her unable to move toward the spot that beckoned her with a pull stronger than the tide. What a fool–I should have stayed last night. But, no, I had to run off like an embarrassed schoolgirl.
Dejection closed her throat. Her reading routine on the foredeck that morning had been uninterrupted. Nick hadn’t appeared, though she’d lingered until almost lunchtime. Had she lost her only chance with him? The possibility frightened her. The uncontrollable urge to be with him terrified her, but desire had been sprung, and now refused to be locked back into its cage. If she saw him again, she’d give him a sign–anything to show her willingness.
The sun finished its evening performance, leaving a dark purple sky dusted with early stars. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. He’s not coming. A sharp gust of cold air rasped across her bare arms as she moved away from the shelter of the superstructure. With one last backward glance toward the railing, she headed down the gangway.
Nick stepped out of a doorway. “Good evening. The night is beautiful, yes?”
Relief and joy crashed through her, and she beamed.
“Wonderfully beautiful. I’m sorry you missed the sunset.”
A secretive smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I have seen many sunsets. I had things to do before my shift ended.” He touched her shoulder, and electricity sizzled from his fingers to the pit of her stomach.
A second chance. Take it. Let him know. She let the dream images fill her head, and gazed boldly at his chiseled features defined in moonlight. The acknowledgment in his expression sent another jolt of lightning through her, this time arrowing deep into her belly. The deep ache between her legs intensified and she clenched her thighs.
His rough fingers caressed the line of her jaw. “Come, I show you heart of Lady Atlas.” His tone held enticing promise.
He took her hand and drew her into the dark doorway. She followed him along a narrow, dimly-lit companionway, her heart hammering so loudly she feared he would hear it, her soaked panties an insistent reminder of her avowed mission.
“Watch your head.” He ducked through another doorway.
She stared down into a dark, deep stairwell and hesitated.
He grinned. “Is okay. Just go down backward, like ladder. I go first.”
Before she could protest, he disappeared through the opening.
His voice drifted up from below. “Come on. I catch you if you slip.”
Well, Miss Barker, you wanted adventure. She started down the stairs, wondering if Nick had any plans other than a private guided tour of the ship. Suddenly, his large, warm hands firmly grasped her butt, answering her question.
“Good. You do fine. Almost here.”
Heat surged through her already throbbing pussy, her clit sending tiny, deliciously painful shocks deep into her body. She could barely breathe. Each movement down the ladder rubbed the sensitive flesh between her legs, sending vivid images of reckless sexual abandon racing through her head.
Her foot touched the deck, and Nick’s hands slid up her hips to grasp her waist. His breath felt hot on her neck, his whisper seductive.
“You are very good sailor. A natural.”
She closed her eyes, savoring his hands resting on her body, and wanting to feel them against her bare skin.
Abruptly, he stepped back and took her hand again. “This way.”
She heard a deep thrum that grew louder as they moved toward another door. Nick pulled it open, and led her into a large compartment criss-crossed with pipes and ducts. He closed the door behind them, smiling like a proud father.
“This is center of ATLAS.”
She gazed around at the maze of brass rods and gray metal cylinders. What is he talking about?