Overboard

At length, he turned to her.

"Just exactly how does one go about fucking some person's brains out?" he asked.

Connie exploded in laughter, bending double in the big cockpit, releasing all the built up tension from the past few minutes. Through her tears she saw that Tom was laughing too. The stress had been released and she walked the short distance to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him as deeply as she had ever kissed anyone in her life.

"If you let me, I'll show you," she whispered.

"I'll look forward to it," he said, pulling her back into another deep, tongue-filled kiss.

"You mean it?" she asked, not certain he was serious.

"Are you withdrawing your offer?" he teased.

"Never! You are mine, Mister Thomas Lynch, and I'm never going to let you go."

There wasn't a single doubt in Tom's mind that she meant every word. He slipped his hands up underneath her top, stroking her back gently.

"You've been stalking me for this whole trip, haven't you?" he stated with a raised eyebrow and a serious expression.

"At least you noticed," she smirked.

"How could I not notice? I'm surprised you didn't stroll around naked last night."

"I thought about it."

"But?"

"I chickened out. Decided to just give you the thin nightgown test first. Did it work?"

"If you mean, did it get a rise out of me, the answer is yes."

"Well good, but I guess it wasn't enough to get you motivated to take advantage of the invitation."

"I thought about it."

"What are you thinking about now?" she asked, looking him directly in his eyes.

"I'm wondering why you're so sure I'm not going to disappoint you," he said quietly.

"Hah! You know how Veronica can't drink more than one or two before she starts to babble. She's done enough bragging about your performance to convince me."

Tom paled as she expressed her confidence and Connie saw his mood change immediately.

"What's wrong? You embarrassed by what she might have said?"

"Yeah ... I guess. That stuff is supposed to be private. I didn't think she would spread it all over the place."

"Tom ... she was my sister. She was more likely to tell me than anyone. I never heard her tell anyone else anything remotely personal."

He looked at her sadly. "I guess we'll never know for sure, will we? I wonder what she might have told her lover? Would she bad-mouth me?"

"Cut it out, Tom," she said gently. "Let it go. She's gone. I'm here for you. I'm going to make sure you forget the bad and only remember the good."

"That's as much as I can hope for, isn't it? Forget the bad and remember the good."

"Yeah ... and ... then I'll show just how good 'good' can be," she smiled.

"I'm thinking I'm going to lose all power to resist your charms," he said, moving his hands around to her magnificent chest. He ran his thumbs over her nipples and got an immediate response from her with a groan and a tightening of her arms around his neck. It precipitated another deep kiss, and she could feel him relax once again. It was going to be a slow process to bring him back to the man he was before the accident, but Connie was dedicated to the goal. Tom Lynch was hers and hers alone.

Chapter 5 In for a Penny

The Lady motored into Nanaimo harbour just before five that Sunday afternoon. In the three-plus hours since Tom's mental surrender to her, they had talked about inconsequential things. Tom wanted to talk to her about the things he wasn't sure of. What were her likes and dislikes? He thought he knew, but he wasn't positive. There was so much more to know about someone who was dedicated to capturing him for a lifetime.

Connie had backed off after her final declaration. She had pushed him to the end of the diving board and she had forced him to make a decision, jump or walk away. He chose to jump, but it was never a foregone conclusion. Inside her, she was excited and elated at his decision. She knew she could win his heart. They had too much in common and he was going to be on the receiving end of as much loving as he could stand, both physical and emotional.

There's an old saying, "in for a penny, in for a pound." Tom was thinking of it as they walked back to the boat from the pub, hand in hand. Their meal was quiet as the place was barely a third full on a Sunday night. He'd made some kind of commitment to Connie, although he wasn't sure just what that commitment was. Perhaps it was just about sex. He wasn't kidding himself; Connie definitely thought of it as long term.

Their conversation during the meal was cautious, staying away from the obvious. "You're awfully quiet," Connie said softly as they walked onto the dock. "Having second thoughts?"

"I don't know ... but ... to be honest ... I guess I am. I'm maybe feeling guilty ... you know ... like I was cheating on Veronica. That's crazy, I know, but in the back of my mind, that's what's nagging at me. I'm not sure how to handle it."

Connie stopped walking and turned to him. There was a sincere look of sadness about her, something he hadn't seen lately.

"I won't make you do anything you don't feel good about, Tom. I know what I want, but not at any price. I'm going to back off and let you decide when or if the time is right."

He nodded and smiled. "Thanks. You are something special ... and I do love you. I'm just not too sure of what that love is yet."

This time, Connie smiled a resigned smile. Once again she would be forcing herself to be patient ... not to rush this man. When the time came, she wanted it to be permanent.

They climbed aboard and went below to the lounge. Tom poured each of them a brandy and turned on the TV. They sat beside each other in silence, watching a PBS special featuring a well-known rock star. It kept their minds off the recent events until it was time to retire. He kissed her goodnight and walked slowly to the forward stateroom.

Connie sat in the lounge, thinking about her situation, discouraged that she had come so close and yet still couldn't get Tom to commit. She knew better than to invade his stateroom that night. That could ruin everything. She had to be prepared to wait once more. But for how much longer could she let this go on. She had her own life to live, and if Tom wasn't going to be a part of it, then she needed to set off in a different direction.

Tom lay in his bunk, wide awake, thinking of nothing else but that afternoon's conversation with Connie. Had he "chickened out?" Maybe. He was torn between the natural, sexual desire for the beautiful woman, and his anxiety over what it could mean to both of them.

Was he really being haunted by Veronica? He forced himself to think of her as an adulteress, but he found no satisfaction thinking about confronting her ... hearing her excuses. Her unfaithfulness was only a piece of information, no more. It left a hole in him from what he always believed was a perfect marriage. Or, at least, as perfect as he could expect.

He heard the soft chimes of the ship's clock strike midnight. He'd been lying awake for two hours with no likelihood he would fall asleep anytime soon. He got out of bed, and quietly opened his door. The lights were out in the main cabin, but the dock light shone through the skylight and he saw the door to Connie's aft stateroom was closed. He pulled a beer from the fridge, plugged the headphones into the stereo, tuned in a local soft-rock station, and sat in one of the two nearby chairs.

The music soothed him. There were no annoying commercials at that time on a Sunday night. He must have finally dozed off into a sleep full of dreams. He fought to remember them, but his conscious mind told him it would be futile. He rarely remembered any dreams.

But these dreams ... they were different. They were erotic ... very sexual. They featured voluptuous women, all wanting to bestow their favours on him. All but one, that is. Connie was crying in the background, her hands covering her eyes. He couldn't make out what she was trying to say, but she was distraught about something. Tom was naked in this dream, and his erection seemed larger than real, standing out proudly before him. It was very confusing.

And then there was the scent ... that female scent ... Veronica's scent? No ... not quite. And now the touch. Lips ... on his lips. So soft he could hardly feel them, but they were there just the same.

His head jerked back in alarm. He was awake now, coming out of that confusing dream, wondering what had happened. And then he knew. Connie! She was kneeling before him. It had been her scent. Her lips. As his consciousness came back, he looked around. He was on the boat. Connie wasn't crying, she was smiling at him. He reached up to rub his eyes and remembered the headphones. Taking them off, he blinked and tried to pull himself together.

"I must have fallen asleep," he croaked.

She nodded. She held up the beer bottle and Tom could see that half of it was gone.

"Drank yourself to sleep, huh?" she grinned.

"I guess. What time is it?"

"About two o'clock. What were you doing out here? Couldn't you sleep either?"

He shook his head. "No. You too?"

"Afraid so. You must have been having quite a dream, though," she said. "You were talking in your sleep, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Do you do that often?"

"Not as far as I know. At least, Veronica never mentioned it."

"Well, as far as I could tell, it was about sex. You had a hell of a hard-on when I found you."

"Oh shit. Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize. I was impressed. Veronica was a very lucky woman."

"Why were you crying?" he asked absently.

"Crying? I wasn't crying?"

"Oh ... I thought you were. I guess that was in my dream. I'm glad ... I mean, I'm glad you weren't crying."

She had remained on her knees, her arms resting on his thighs, her face tilted up to him. Even without makeup, she was incredibly lovely. Flawless skin with a light sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks, lovely blue eyes, and even the reckless tumble of her blonde hair seemed to be a perfect frame to her face.

"That must have been some dream," she said in a soft, husky voice.

"I don't usually remember dreams, but this one was so vivid. If I remember my college psychology course correctly, the ones you remember are the ones that feature stress or danger," he said.

"I wouldn't be surprised about the stress, Tom. You've been under a lot of stress in the last three months. Just when you might have been getting past Veronica's death, along came the police with that business about her infidelity. That couldn't have helped."

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said. It seemed like a non sequitur.

"What?"

"You were crying ... covering your eyes. I didn't want to hurt you," he repeated.

"How could you hurt me?" she asked, now very curious.

"All those women. They were naked ... so was I. They were after me, but ... you were there, standing in the background, fully dressed ... and you were crying."

"Jesus, Tom. Freud would have a field day with that dream," she joked, almost instantly regretting it.

"Yeah ... I guess. But I remember being sad ... like I didn't want to do ... something."

"Maybe that accounts for the erection," she said, smiling.

"Was it that noticeable?"

"Yeah ... it was. You're not a small man, Tom. It would have been hard not to notice. I almost ... well ... never mind."

He brought his hands up gently to her face. "You almost what?" he asked quietly.

"I almost took advantage of you."

"What stopped you?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you were mumbling something, like you were trying to stop something from happening."

He thought about that for a minute. "Maybe. Maybe I was trying to stop your crying?"

She smiled a comforting smile and took his hands in hers. "You care for me, don't you," she stated.

"You know I do. I'm just trying to understand if it's more than that."

He looked at her for a long while before continuing.

"Connie ... will you stay with me tonight?"

She nodded and stood, helping him up out of the chair, leading him to his stateroom. She stripped off her t-shirt and panties unselfconsciously, climbed into the bed, and pulled the covers up to her waist. She was perched on her side, her head propped up in her hand, waiting for him.

Tom was out of his briefs and t-shirt just as quickly, sliding under the covers and turning toward Connie. His erection was full and it confirmed to her that this would be the moment she had waited for. They embraced and she felt his rigid member press into her abdomen.

When he awoke the next morning, he was briefly disoriented. He was lying on his side with Connie's wonderful body spooned back into him. His arm was draped over her waist, his hand cupping a warm, soft breast. He was about to pull away when he changed his mind. The scent ... her scent ... was an aphrodisiac that had generated his usual morning erection, comfortably tucked in between her full, round, cheeks.

He raised his head carefully, looking back at the clock on the bulkhead. It was past eight o'clock, long after his normal waking time. His mind drifted back to last night and the conversation about his dream. What did it all mean? Why did he care? It was just a dream. But dreams meant something, didn't they? They were the doorway to the subconscious. But one thing was real. He had made passionate love to his sister-in-law last night and she left no doubt that she was satisfied.

Connie stirred and turned her head toward him. "You're awake."

"Yes. I was just thinking about last night ... you know ... just how much I wanted to make love to you. I wanted it to be perfect for you."

"It was," she yawned, stretching her naked form as she did. "I never felt so good, Tom. Never."

"When I woke up," Tom said, "I felt so comfortable. You were here and I could smell your wonderful scent. I'd forgotten how much that one thing meant to me each morning. I don't want to give it up again."

Instinctively his thumb idly began to stroke a nipple, and Connie moaned her approval. Her hand reached back and sought out his erection. She gripped it gently, squeezing now and then.

She rolled over onto her other side, facing him. Her hand returned to his cock immediately.

"Do you have any idea how badly I want this inside me?" she asked in a throaty whisper.

He chuckled. "I think I do."

"Then what's keeping you," she smiled, pulling him closer to her.

She spread her legs, kicking the covers back, and welcomed him between her knees. He mounted her, and with her guidance, pushed slowly into her, not stopping until he was fully enclosed. There had been no need for lubrication. Connie was wet and willing and wanting. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and drove herself upwards, taking every inch of him. They were locked together like rutting animals until she finally relaxed her grip and allowed him to begin to stroke into her.

It was a more frantic and reckless joining than last night. It was an uncontrolled sexual mating of two sex-starved adults. He was pumping into her furiously now, out of control. It was uncharacteristic, but it seemed strangely necessary for him to assert himself this way with her.

"Yes ... yeaaaassss ... ohhhhhhh ... fuck ... yeaaaassss," she cried as they neared the breaking point.

Suddenly, Tom began to move and breathe erratically as his climax arrived. His motion was jerky and he pushed into Connie, holding himself inside her as he began to pump his seed into her womb. After a number of single, forceful, deep strokes he collapsed beside her, panting heavily. Connie was still holding him tightly to her.

"Sorry ... Connie," he gasped. "I couldn't ... help myself. I didn't mean ... to be so ... rough. Sorry."

She was kissing his face, tasting the sweat that poured from his forehead.

"It's okay, Tom," Connie said softly. "I wanted it this way. I wanted you to show me what a man you are. We had all this 'stuff' bottled up inside us," she whispered. "It was bound to explode when we took the lid off."

Tom lay silently beside her, stroking her breast idly, his eyes fixed on hers.

"This can't be a one-time thing, Connie. I couldn't handle that. I know that's not what you're thinking ... but ... if you and me ... if we are going to ... be together ... I don't do things half-way."

He looked so serious as he spoke, and Connie couldn't help herself. She smiled.

"Did you really imagine that I would be happy with a 'one-time thing?'"

"I don't know," he said, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "I feel like some teenager who's just had sex for the first time. What was I supposed to say? My head is so fucked up ... I can't think straight."

She went quiet again, watching him as he wrestled with his thoughts. She struggled with something to say ... something to tell him ... that would help ease his conflicted mind.

Tom resumed his silence, still on his back, staring at the ceiling of the cabin. Connie rolled closer to him, wrapping her arm over his chest, pulling him tightly to her.

"I'm going to make it better for you, Tom. I promise. I'm going to make it better."

He rolled toward her, his arm now wrapped around her, holding her closely.

"I believe you, Connie. I really do."

Chapter 6 Whatever Comes Next

Connie stood behind Tom, her arms wrapped around his waist as he guided the Lady across the gulf, heading toward the entrance to Howe Sound. The wind was brisk, and had shifted more to the west, helping make the passage quicker than they expected. The traffic was light, typical for a Monday morning. Not everyone had the luxury of playing hooky that day.

She thought back to last night and earlier that morning and to the beginning of their "affair," as she thought of it. It had caught her by surprise, so unlike what she expected from Tom. It was later, after they had calmed down and talked that she rediscovered the Tom Lynch from last night. They had made love. That's what it really was ... love. He had worshipped her body and had lifted her to a number of orgasms, mild and strong. It was perfect.

Veronica hadn't been bragging. It was a fact; he was a magnificent lover. She had never been so content in all her life. All she wanted to do was to be with him, to hold him as she did now, not losing contact with him for a moment. This was what she had imagined, what she had dreamed of for all those years. And now it was coming to pass. She had never felt this happy in her entire life.

As luck would have it, they arrived back at Fisherman's Cove on a half-tide, and docking the boat wasn't as challenging. Connie stood on the dock with the fore and aft lines, quickly tying them off as Tom carefully moved the big craft into place; first the stern, then the bow. They silently loaded their gear onto a nearby cart and pushed it up the ramp toward the parking lot.

They rode in silence to Tom's home, each lost in thought about the consequences of this past weekend. Their relationship had changed irrevocably; there was no going back. Then again, neither of them wanted to revert to their previous status. For their own reasons, they wanted to continue down the path they had mutually chosen. Connie was the more desperate to see it through, but Tom was resolved as well. He'd made a decision and he would stick to it. The only question now was when they would let "others" know about this change.

"Come in," Tom said as they pulled into his driveway. "I doubt the boys are home, so we can relax and talk a bit."

Connie nodded, turning off the ignition and pulling the hand brake. Tom pulled the two containers out of the back hatch while Connie picked up his overnight bag. He tried the front door, but as usual it was locked. He inserted his key and opened the door, ushering her in ahead of him.

"Anybody home?" he called.