Alan Goes to Sea Ch. 02

When Alan joined the Merchant Navy as an Engineer Officer it was a time of change (well, when isn't it?) especially in the shipping world. The British Empire was in its death throes, but there were still many British families living in the newly independent nations and with strong ties to the Old Country, and visits back to relatives in Britain involved a lot of passages, which would always have been by sea in the many liners transporting people and cargo in varying degrees of luxury. However, the introduction of jet aircraft made the journey by air more acceptable and substantially quicker, with the inevitable reduction in passengers on the sea routes. Nonetheless, there were still adequate numbers to sustain the dying trade for a few more years, before cruising created a new market for big ships, and among those numbers were females of various ages and availability for officers with libidos that needed satisfying. Needless to say, Alan was one of them.

As a young man, tall, good looking and with an easy charm, he had no problem attracting members of the fairer sex. This natural attraction was augmented by the uniform he wore, especially in the warmer climes where the smart white shorts worn in the day showed off his handsome legs, or the crisp white mess jacket with its badges of rank looked good in the evening. This gear contrasted favourably with that of the younger male passengers who tended to slob around in casual clothes. He had soon learned that he was more likely to achieve sexual conquest with the older ladies (in this context old means above twenty), especially married women travelling without their husbands. For them, this was a perhaps rare opportunity to put themselves about, with virtually no risk of being found out, and with the near certainty that their lovers would say a final goodbye at the end of the trip. However, he did sometimes dally with the younger ladies, with mixed results.

Erica wasn't a good idea. She was a tall, well developed girl who gave him to understand that she was approaching her twentieth birthday, and she certainly had an air of sophistication about her that supported that belief. Fortunately, he had not got past the stage of a gentle good night kiss before her aunt, with whom she was travelling, informed him quietly that she was only fifteen, after which he restricted his attention to her to chatting and a quick turn on the floor at the ship's dances. She finally asked him if her aunt had given her away, and when he concurred said "Pity, we could have had some fun together".

Joy was a different proposition. She was a small blonde (bottle?) with a big sense of her own worth. She had a quite spectacular figure, big breasts accented by her Wonderbra, and a cleavage she was not shy about exposing. Slim waisted and with a pert round bottom topping shapely legs, she was well aware of her attraction to men. She latched onto Alan very quickly, and he responded accordingly. He first met her while the ship was in port and he was on daywork duties, not doing watches. He was thus able to give her plenty of attention during the evening, and soon was having his wicked way with her. However, as soon as they put to sea he was back on watch-keeping hours and, as he was on the eight to twelve watch - eight o'clock to twelve o'clock, morning and evening - he was unable to see her during the evening.

The day after his first evening watch he went down to the passenger deck to meet her. There was no sign of her, but her cabin mate, Vanessa, came across to speak to him.

"Sorry Alan, but Joy wont be coming. She seems to have gone off you, she says if you've got to work in the evenings she can't be bothered. Also, I saw her chatting to the Second Mate, who seems to be able to make himself available. Anyway, she sent her fat, ugly friend to give you the good news. And if you say I'm not fat and ugly, I'll hit you."

"Well, up to then I hadn't noticed, which is a pity because I was going to invite you up to my cabin for a mad, passionate sex session, but now you've told me how hideous you are I'll just suggest you come just for a cup of tea."

"I suppose so, there's not a lot to do around here. What time do you suggest?"

"About half past midnight, the light's not so good then."

At half past midnight she was waiting for him, and by one o'clock they were in his bunk performing the age old horizontal dance. She wasn't really fat, just a few pounds on the plump side, which he found very pleasant as he caressed the gentle bulges. Neither was she ugly, the worst that could be said was that she was plain, but her smile made up for that, especially in the after orgasmic glow. She was an enthusiastic lover to put it mildly, and for the rest of the time she was on the ship they both tried to outdo each other in carnal ingenuity. As he told her, he was so glad Joy had deserted him, as, apart from being a stuck up bitch, she hadn't been very good at sex. Added to Vanessa's prowess in bed, he also found her very good company, and was really sorry when they had to part.

***

Joyce was another young woman, at nineteen years old more girl than woman. Their meeting had been, to say the least, somewhat surprising.

Alan saw her in a small group of passengers sitting at a table with a drink in her hand. She saw him approaching and a distinct blush rose on her cheeks.

"I think we need to talk, don't you?"

"Oh God, I've been dreading this" she replied, "but I suppose we should. I need to know what happened last night. Perhaps somewhere more discreet?"

"I thought you hadn't got much idea. Could you face my cabin again, I'll get the steward to bring us some tea - and I'll leave the door open if that will make you happier."

She agreed and he led her to his cabin, then went and asked the steward to bring them tea. When he returned they sat and idly chatted till tea and cakes was delivered by the steward, along with the cryptic (to her) message that "He'd be back in a bit with the evidence."

"Now, let's be clear. What do you want to know?"

"Everything. I can just remember bits, but I was so pissed that I don't know what was just my fevered imagination, and I'm certain there are bits where I was oblivious and I've no idea what happened."

"So you want all the sordid details - and some really were a bit yucky."

"Oh God, I was afraid of that. No, tell every horrid little detail. I need to know the worst."

"Right. Once upon a time..."

"Please don't take the mickey...Lord, I don't even know your name. In case you didn't ask, I'm Joyce."

"Sorry Joyce, from here on I promise to be dead serious. And I'm Alan, so now we're on first name terms, and that's only right seeing as we spent the night together. I'll start again."

Before he starts, a quick run down on officers' accommodation. The ship on which Alan was sailing was built in the thirties, and was typical of many passenger/cargo liners of its time. The deck officers' accommodation was situated forward, under the bridge, while the engineer officers' was placed around the funnel and the engine casing, both being placed on the top deck. On this ship, all officers had single cabins, though there were ships where cabins were shared - not a popular idea. The only sanitary arrangements in the cabins was a wash hand basin, and you may guess that when someone needed a pee in the middle of a sleep period, (and the older a man gets the more that occurs) that basin got used as a urinal as well. It was sometimes used for that purpose by visiting ladies, but let's not go there. There was a bathroom centrally placed, with a communal shower leading off from a row of toilet compartments and several basins, for hand or clothes washing. Needless to say there was no need of provision for female officers as everyone knows women can't steer or fix engines (Bang goes a big chunk of my readership, where's the delete key?). This will, hopefully, make the next bit clearer to any readers that are left. Back to Alan's explanation of what had happened.

"Last night I was late coming off watch as I had a fuel pump failure just as I was due to hand over, which meant I had to start the spare generator and get it on line before I could leave the engine room. That meant the rest of the watch had finished their showers before I started, so I was on my own in the bathroom. When I walked out of the shower I found you standing just inside the door. When I say standing, perhaps the better word would be swaying. I hate saying this but you aren't as attractive when your face is a sort of greenish colour, and when you took one look at me, and gave a technicolour yawn down the front of your dress, it didn't get any better. As you showed every sign of going to repeat the performance, and as you also seemed in danger of falling over, I grabbed you, turned you round and pushed your head down over one of the basins. You then proceeded to bring up a quite amazing quantity of vomit, until at last you quietened down, and I splashed some cold water in your face to freshen it up a bit."

"When you finally straightened up, you turned round, said "I've got to pee" and shot across the room into the nearest loo. You pulled your skirt up and sat down. As you hadn't bothered to shut the door, I could see that you hadn't lowered your knickers, so I shouted at you to wait, but far too late, and you were obviously in full flow. I stood and watched and, as you finished, you gave me a big silly grin and said "You're naked". I must admit that, in the heat of the moment this fact had escaped me, but I produced the witty riposte that I often showered naked as it saved getting my clothes wet. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it round me."

"At this stage I had no idea how you had come to be very drunk in our bathroom, but, as you appeared to be in a certain amount of distress - that's to say pissed and poorly - I stood you up and led you round to my cabin. You leaned against the door, dripping pee and smelling of the vomit down the front of your dress, and I decided that you'd be better off out of your mucky clothes. I unzipped your dress and slipped it off you easily, then I wondered what to do about your soaking knickers. Any attempt to get a sensible, or even stupid, suggestion from you got nothing more helpful than a pathetic groan, so I just pulled them down and persuaded you to step out of them. What to do next? I decided to dress you in a pair of my briefs, which I hoped might stay up long enough for you to get back to your cabin."

"When I was looking for the briefs I uncovered a bright red pair of very brief knickers, and I realised they had been hidden there as a souvenir by a lady who had favoured me with her presence in my bunk on the last trip. I guessed you wouldn't complain, but before I dressed you I got my flannel and mopped you up a bit to make you somewhat more sanitary. Then I tried to get them on you, which was a struggle as you were busy falling over at the time. However, I managed after a bit, by which time you had passed out, so I picked you up and put you on my bunk."

(What Alan hadn't bothered to mention was that he had sniffed the crotch of the red knickers before putting them on her, and had enjoyed the faint remaining aroma of the copious vaginal juice of the their owner. She had given him several nights of delightful, if tiring, pleasure, and for a brief moment he reminisced over the memory of a pussy that had made beautiful music on his energetic penis.)

"It was pretty obvious that you weren't going anywhere for a while, so I decided I'd leave you there for a few hours, hopefully to sober up a bit. In the meantime I put on a pair of shorts and lay down on the settee for a short sleep. I must have been more tired than I thought, and, as I'd not thought to set the alarm, I slept until Dennis, the steward, came into the cabin to wake me in time for breakfast before going on watch. He saw you laying asleep on my bunk, and gave a sniff as the smell of vomit reached him. He just raised his eyebrows and said "Good night?". I gave him a quick run down on what had happened, and he started laughing, then offered to clean your dress. I pointed out that this would leave you to go back to your cabin just wearing bra and knickers, but he suggested that I should have a tee shirt long enough to cover your embarrassment, which seemed a sensible idea. I went through my tee shirts and chose the longest one, then I woke you up. I guess you will remember the rest, putting on the tee shirt and going back to your cabin."

Just then there was a knock at the door, and Dennis came in, carrying her dress and knickers. She was suitably enthusiastic, and gave him a big kiss on each cheek, at which he thanked her and retreated.

"I bet that's the most enthusiastic kiss he's ever had from a girl. You do realise he's as queer as a seven pound note?"

(Pause for a moment. At the time of these events homosexuality was illegal in Britain - only between men, apparently when the law was introduced it was in the reign of Queen Victoria, and she did not believe that homosexuality between women existed. As a result going to sea was a popular way of avoiding the law for homosexuals, and shipping companies were quite happy to have homosexual crew, particularly stewards who were good at the job and did not pose a threat to female passengers. Also, the use of the words such as 'queer' or 'poofter' to describe homosexuals was commonplace and to describe someone as gay was merely to denote that he was happy, not what was then widely considered as perverted.)

"I did wonder. Should I be jealous?"

"No, he's not my type, but he's a bloody good steward. Anyway, now you know what happened last night."

"There's one small detail I remember that you've missed out - the way you woke me up."

"Do remind me."

"You bent over and kissed me on the lips."

"I'm sorry - I thought you were asleep."

"I'm not - not sorry, I mean . But are you really saying that you didn't...do anything else to me?"

"No, Joyce, apart from taking your knickers off and washing your private bits, and dressing you in some other woman's undies, no, I didn't do anything."

"Why not - is my body so ugly that you didn't fancy me?"

"For me, sex is a waste of time if both parties aren't getting pleasure out of it, and a dead drunk girl isn't on my list of desirable partners. Incidentally, you've not told me how you came to be in that state in our bathroom."

"Several of us were invited to a party in Mickey's cabin. God knows what was in the drinks, but I didn't take long to get in the state you saw me. I desperately needed to pee, and when one of your colleagues suggested I use the wash basin I decide it was time to leave. I just staggered out and by luck I could still focus well enough to read the toilet sign, so in I went and you know more about the rest than I do."

Alan made a mental note to have words with Mickey Walsh about how not to treat vulnerable young women. Then a thought occurred to him.

"You didn't say whether you enjoyed the kiss, and would you like another before you go?"

She just nodded, so he slid his arms around her and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, and her lips were soft and yielding to his touch. He withdrew a little and smiled down at her, before repeating the treatment, a little more firmly this time, and he felt her lips parting at his touch. After a while he released her.

"I'm sorry, love, but I've got to go and eat before I go on watch. I'd love to carry on from here, but work has to come first. Just in case you are interested, I'll be out on the deck behind our cabins at about twenty past midnight, assuming I don't get another generator problem and no drunken young ladies delay me."

"Yes, I'm very interested. Now one more kiss please, just a little one to remind me."

He duly kissed her very gently, then she left, carrying the beautifully pressed and folded dress, inside which were the now sanitised knickers. He went for his dinner, then put on his boiler suit and went below for the next four hours. His relief arrived in good time, so he was showered and dressed in a loose shirt and shorts at the promised time, and, when he walked out onto the deck Joyce left the shadows of a lifeboat and he led her back to his cabin, surreptitiously dropping the catch on the lock behind him.

"Are you up to drinking alcohol again yet? I've got beer and red wine, or a G&T if you like?"

"I think I might force a small glass of red wine down without too many harmful effects. Just don't give me whatever it was I had in Mickey's cabin."

He poured her a glass and a beer for himself, then chose one of his tapes and switched on his tape deck. He had a load of tapes with music he had copied from records at his home. Records don't perform well on a moving ship, and this was the days before cassettes or CDs. Most of his music was classical, but he also had several lighter popular items. At the time there was no bigger name than Frank Sinatra, and he had chosen one of his best albums, Songs for Swinging Lovers, and she smiled as the first notes of You make me feel so young brought the inimitable singer's voice into the cabin.

(Note for younger readers - at this time "swinging" referred to swing music, not what you were thinking.)

"How did you know he's my favourite singer. He's gorgeous?"

"Well, his voice is, not so sure about the rest of him, he's got some pretty nasty friends."

"Never mind, I'm not likely to be alone in a cabin with him."

"No, well I'm not going to sing to you, but you do realise you're at great risk, don't you?"

"Risk of what, may I ask?"

"Well, at least at risk of being kissed."

"I'm terrified."

He slid one arm around her waist and drew her towards him. Her face was turned towards him and she had a broad smile as his lips descended gently on to hers. He was in no hurry, and he allowed the soft touch to continue, feeling the warmth of the soft cushions, slightly parted. It was the seminal moment of the courtship ritual which he was hoping would carry on to an intimate physical coupling between two willing bodies. She seemed to be in more of a hurry than he, and her face pushed up at him, their lips pressing together more firmly, hers parting a little. He cautiously probed a little with his tongue, and, although she seemed to retreat slightly for a moment, she quickly accepted his intrusion and allowed him to roam around the warm moisture of her of her mouth, giving him a nip of her teeth on his probing organ.

Soon her own tongue joined in the game, and they were exploring each other with enthusiasm. Lips, tongues and teeth were all playing a part in arousing them both, and he felt her body pulsing under the arm surrounding her. His spare hand was holding her head close to his, but now he began moving slowly downwards, neck, shoulders and down to her chest. However, before his hand reached the swell of her breast, she pushed it away. She was still kissing as fiercely as before, but she was clearly resisting his attempt to advance the activities. He moved away and instead caressed her side, over her hip and sliding around to squeeze her buttock. This she accepted, but when he moved back to her breast he was again rejected.

Alan was confused by her actions. She was obviously enjoying the kissing, and, to judge by her heavy breathing, she was definitely aroused, so why was she stopping his approach to her breast. He was coming to the conclusion that she was a cock teaser, and when she pushed his hand away a third time, he began to think his chances of getting anywhere with her were quite slim. He was used to girls who made clear that they had no wish to go to bed with him, but Joyce's demeanour had made him sure that she wanted to go, if not all the way, but a lot further than this, by coming to his cabin at midnight. He was thinking that he would be better off catching up on his sleep, when he suddenly remembered advice from an experienced older Casanova: