Educating Anne Ch. 1

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It was Kate, the next day, who suggested the boat trip. They had noticed, in the harbour the previous day, that some of the small fishing trawlers and boats carried tourists on their working trips, and Anne had wondered if it might not be fun to go out for a day, and perhaps visit one of the offshore islands.

While they were looking round the small fishing museum the following morning, Kate fell into conversation with the curator, who confirmed that they should be able to arrange a day's trip - with meals thrown in - for a very reasonable price, with a number of the local skippers. He also said that some of the boats fished all night and it should be possible to arrange to be dropped off on an island, where cheap taverna accommodation was usually available.

So, Kate set off to the harbour, leaving Anne in the museum, and was back in practically no time, rushing Anne back to the chalet to pack swimsuits and overnight things in time to catch a boat which was sailing on the noon tide. Caught up in Kate's excitement, Anne stuffed her bikini and a few things in a bag, and they jumped in the car, arriving back at the harbour with about half an hour to spare.

The boat, a tiny trawler named "Violetta", was rolling gently at the quayside and a grizzled old Italian helped them aboard. Kate introduced him as Guido, the skipper, and he, in turn, introduced his wife, Sofia, a stout, grim-looking woman with grey hair scraped back into a bun, and an almost masculine moustache on a turned-down upper lip.

Clearly, she did the cooking on board, and Anne supposed Guido did the fishing, until, just as the church clock tolled twelve o'clock, two men emerged from the quayside taverna and leapt nimbly aboard, casting off as they did so.

They were a contrasting pair. Both around thirty, one was tall and swarthy, well-muscled, with a thick black moustache, while the other was slight and of weaselly appearance, with a slim pencil moustache, and a cast in one eye. The tall one was named Marco, and the other, Roberto. None of the four Italians spoke English at all, but Kate gathered that they were all related to each other. She thought, but was not sure, that Roberto was a son, and Marco a nephew.

Before they had cleared the harbour, Sofia had disappeared into the galley down below, Guido was in the wheelhouse, and the other two were busy checking and mending nets. Anne and Kate stood at the bow for a while, looking out to sea, but it turned quite cold in the head wind and Kate said she was going to lie down in the shelter of the side of the boat and catch some sun. Anne could not think of anything better to do, so they both went down into the galley where, totally ignored by the redoubtable Sofia, they changed into their swimsuits.

Kate's bikini was not dissimilar to Anne's but, somehow, Anne thought, it looked much more daring on Kate, whose cleavage was much more noticeable than hers. Anne also noticed that Kate had to be careful to ensure that none of her abundant pubic hair escaped the narrowish confines of the crotch-piece.

However, when they emerged with their towels, none of their fellow travellers batted an eyelid, and they settled on the wooden deck. After about five minutes, Sofia appeared with a very tasty seafood salad, which they ate with considerable appreciation.

Then Guido came down from the wheelhouse with a bottle of sparkling wine, and two glasses, which he handed over with an unintelligible grunt. Glancing up at the wheelhouse, Anne saw that Marco was deputising for his uncle. Catching Anne's eye, Marco grinned and raised a wineglass in his huge fist, and Anne, blushing slightly, toasted him back.

Noticing this, Kate leaned back on one elbow and lifted her glass, too, smiling broadly. The man's eyes travelled rapidly over her bikini-clad form, and narrowed in appreciation.

With a touch of trepidation, Anne saw that sly secretive smile flit over her friend's face before Kate broke the eye contact and poured a second glass of wine.

Backs to the wooden-slatted side of the boat, the girls sat and talked desultorily, basking in the warm sunshine, as the bottle slowly emptied. As she drained her last drop, Kate spread her towel out on the deck and lay face down on it, and Anne followed suit.

Anne was just beginning to drowse when a shadow fell across them and she squinted up into the sunshine to see Marco standing over them, silhouetted against the blue sky, a fresh bottle in his hand. Panicky, because of her lack of Italian, Anne glanced quickly at Kate and was relieved to see her looking up, also.

Marco squatted on the other side of Kate and filled both their glasses. Taking a drink from his own, he began to talk, volubly, in his own language and Kate leaned on one elbow, facing him. Anne could not understand more than a few words of what was being said, but Kate laughed from time to time and Anne thought Marco was relating some amusing tales of life on the 'Violetta'.

Out of politeness, despite her lack of comprehension, Anne lay with her face turned towards the couple, smiling when she thought it appropriate and, when Kate groped behind her back for her bag, Anne pushed it into her hand. Kate delved into it, finally extracting a small tube of sun-cream.

She was just unscrewing the cap when Marco stretched out his hand, a questioning smile on his face. Kate hesitated for a couple of seconds, then, with a shrug, relinquished the tube and lay back down on her towel, on her front, her face turned towards Anne, her arms flung out above her head along the smooth wooden deck.

Marco slowly squeezed out a short length of cream on the tips of his fingers, then began to massage it into Kate's upper back and shoulders. A slow smile spread over Kate's mouth and her eyes closed.

Anne lay perfectly still. The sea was calm and it was so quiet that she could hear the rasp of Marco's calloused fingertips against Kate's smooth skin. He pushed out some more cream, this time on each hand, then changed his position so that he straddled Kate's jutting buttocks, and began to work the cream into the hollows in her shoulders.

Anne could hear Kate now, purring quietly, like a contented cat, her eyes fluttering open every now and then, the satisfied smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth. Marco shifted position again, now straddling Kate's thighs, his hands now concentrating on her lower back, below the tied top of her dark blue bikini. Starting in the small of her back, he worked in the cream in ever-widening concentric circles, until his fingers were circumnavigating her sides, the start of the slope which widened into her bottom, and the skin under her bikini top.

Anne watched, as though hypnotised. The smile had disappeared from Kate's face and her brow was now slightly furrowed. The silence was almost total, only the slapping of the sea against the side of the boat breaking the taut atmosphere. Anne's mouth was dry and she noticed Kate's tongue dart out to wet her full lips.

Then, so adeptly that it seemed almost casual, Marco untied the bow holding Kate's swimsuit top and flicked the ends apart to lie on the deck either side of her. Kate's eyes snapped wide open and she pulled her arms back to her sides, elbows bent, fists clenched either side of her chin, upper arms tucked into her sides.

Anne stared at her, waiting for the cry of protest, the hurried re-tying of the sundered ends, but, as Marco's hands continued their - now unfettered - progress over her back, Kate's eyes lost their look of alarm and, almost imperceptibly, she relaxed.

Anne, on the other hand, felt the first frisson of real fear. Where was all this leading to, and, knowing what she now knew about Kate, who was going to look after Anne if things got out of hand?

(Story continues in Chapter 2)