For Art's Sake Ch. 02

"Never confuse the unusual with the impossible." - Quote by Psmith.

This sums my defense against any possible quibbles made by readers who might complain about certain unrealistic aspects of my story. Keep in mind that the tale is a fictional one and even a bit silly. I claim artistic license. All characters are over eighteen and are fictional.

--

It would be a cruel trick to play on readers, to introduce a character and kill him off before he has even said a word. Never fear, it won't happen here, as eagle-eyed readers of the previous chapter might have guessed. For there was a loophole given, big enough to drive a moving lorry through.

His own power, having proved insufficient for James Wheatley, there remained the fleeting possibility of an auxiliary source of propulsion. If such was to be, it behooves us to supply the necessary means reasonably quickly. Fortunately for authors, time in stories need not run linearly.

The question is where to begin the introduction of the savior of our poor hero. While it is true that the reason for Mary Carpenter's presence aboard the yacht started six years ago, it might be possible to shorten the tale.

Mary was a friend of the only daughter of the American Soap tycoon J. Peter Waters, Karen Waters. As Karen's friend, she was privileged to be invited to accompany Karen on a European Tour. For a child of middle-class parents, the chance was too good to miss. So, and here the tale has been edited drastically, we find her Johnny-on-the-spot in that instant James found himself in need.

The girl was feeling blue. Mary was unhappy to be left behind aboard the yacht from her friend's beach picnic. Because Karen's stepmother was expecting that Karen's current suitor would be popping the question, she suggested that Mary be absent from the scene. Not that it would do much good for that poor chump.

Mary looked over the side of the boat to see what the dickens was making noise. She saw a man who seemed to be in distress. She might have hesitated before diving in if his eyes didn't meet hers. The brief silent appeal forced her to put aside her ill-feeling towards men. His head disappeared beneath the surface, but she knew she'd dream about that look forever if she did nothing. After all, he was human, so she dove in.

Mary was one of those females who have something against men. Women had the vote now for all the good that did, but men were still men, and most she'd met were very sorry specimens. There was one particular man who was the cause of this feeling in her. It seems to be a rule that there is, and he was her friend's older brother Arthur.

She happened to be attired for a swim at the critical moment. Her smashing figure was revealed in her black and white bathing costume. It was by far the most daring outfit she had ever worn, perfect for a dip in the Mediterranean. Her legs were exposed to the extent that it would be shocking back home in the States. The suit ended well above her lovely knees. This gave her the freedom to dive in and kick out forcefully for the unfortunate flounder.

Such was her zeal, James had not been below the surface more than a few seconds before she arrived on the scene. She dove down and grasped Wheatley by the arms and hauled him up to the air. Once there, Mary got behind him, wrapped her arms under his and around his chest. Then it was a simple matter for the girl, for she was a strapping lass, to lean back and carry the man towards the anchor line. She used those lovely unencumbered legs to propel them.

She noticed the man lacked something found on almost all men most of the time. Clothing was what was missing. He didn't seem to be wearing even the most rudimentary bathing suit. She tried not to think about it, but the more she tried not to, the more she did. Isn't that always the way?

She grabbed hold of the line to hold them up and then thought about how to get them up on the boat. Try as she might, she could think of no way to do it. She concluded that the only thing to do was to get the attention of someone already aboard.

By what she'd already done, you can tell she wasn't one of those shrinking violet types of girls. When she shouted, she did it as if she meant for someone to hear her. "Help! Woman Overboard! Help," she called boisterously.

The first and second calls brought no reaction. Mary knew why. It was because Karen's Stepmother was making a spectacle of herself. The warm southern sun and the comfortable breeze had provided the retired chorus girl the opportunity to show more of herself than was strictly decent. Like some former chorus girls, Mrs. Waters sometimes missed being the center of attention. She didn't miss the work, the rehearsals, or the hours, but did miss the adulation of admirers.

The Captain and the deckhand remaining on the boat were no doubt still engaged in ogling her breathtaking figure. Mary had ignored their eyeballing as much as it was possible to while aboard the yacht. She'd moved to the other end of the boat to escape the scene. It was disgusting to see them rubbing not subtle enough on the fronts of their trousers. Men had barely evolved when it came to their penises. It was just one more mark against men as far as she was concerned.

Finally, after the third call, the deckhand appeared at the bow staring stupidly far out to sea. Tom or Jerry, it was impossible to know which of the identical twin deckhands this one was, called out loudly, "Say what? Anyone out there?"

Mary spoke up at once, "Hello, down here."

Tom or Jerry dropped his gaze to the anchor line and spotted the damsel and her catch. "I say. Nice day for a swim, isn't it? Who's the gentleman with you?"

Evidently, he was using the term gentleman in its loosest sense. No true gentleman would swim around naked, and if he did, he wouldn't go drowning where a lady would have to save him. Or so Mary believed, and who can blame her?

"Hurry up and throw me a rope. I need you to haul this man aboard. He nearly drowned," said Mary quite sure of what she wanted.

Given an order he was happy to obey, it was best that way, it was the Navy way. Near at hand, there was a line as if it was there for that very purpose. It is amazing how on a shipshape vessel, things like that happen. In sailor-like fashion, he tied a loop in the rope and tossed that end of the line to Mary.

Mary got the loop around the man. Not around the neck as one might suppose a man-hater would do it, but under his arms around his surprisingly hairy chest. Now that her burden was secured, she let go and called out, "Haul away ho." She'd heard the phrase shouted when the Captain wanted the sails raised and thought it might be applicable.

Hauling on ropes was Tom or Jerry's forte, so it's not surprising he did it with gusto. Even though James was no lightweight, and nearly was dead weight, he was soon lifted clear of the water. This exposed Wheatley to Mary's view.

Sometimes one's first sight causes love to come in with a rush, stealing the beholder's reason away in the throes of rapture. This was not one of those times. Instead, Mary shuddered to the core of her being. Her horror may not have been so extreme if James had been facing the other way; unfortunately, he was facing towards her.

James wasn't in an aroused state, far from it. It had shrunk to the size of a button. In fact, his member was in survival mode. When the blood is needed elsewhere, like the old gray matter, it tends to vacate the less critical regions. For some reason, this includes the sexual organ. This goes to show that even nature finds intellect more desirable than mere procreation. So the Philosophers have taught through the ages to the unthinking public.

Worse than this was the man's grooming. He had long hair and an unsuccessful beard. She had a sinking feeling she'd rescued a criminal, which would explain a lot. No doubt, after escaping from prison, he had to ditch his jailhouse clothes. Or perhaps he had murdered someone and got rid of his bloodstained clothing. Her thoughts ran wild.

"Avert your gaze Miss," Tom or Jerry called down too late. The damage had already been done. Now only Mary's natural reticence could protect James' feelings from scandalous gossip about his manhood.

James was showing some signs of life before reaching the deck. He coughed and gurgled before catching his breath. The deckhand laid him down on his side so that James could decant, and gave him a couple of whacks on the back to hurry the process along. Satisfied with the results, Tom or Jerry, turned his attention to the girl.

"Thank you, ever so much," Mary said after she'd been pulled from the soup. She didn't hazard adding a name and refrained from using the moniker, Matey. As an American, she knew no class distinctions and didn't see why she shouldn't thank the crewman for doing his job.

"Oh, Miss. It was nothing. Don't mention it, you're light as a feather," the deckhand replied cheerily. He wasn't accustomed to this excessive gratitude. He stared at the lass with genuine admiration. This could have been and was misinterpreted by the man-hater to be leering. She can be excused for this mistake. Mary was clad in a bathing costume that was utterly revealing and felt self-conscious about it.

"I'm going below to dry off and change. Please cover that up," said Mary a little frostily, pointing at James on the deck.

"What was he thinking? Going swimming without any protection?" Tom or Jerry asked Mary's retiring back. She didn't even acknowledge hearing the question and soon disappeared down the forward companionway.

Tom, for this, is the deckhand's name, studied the naked man for a long moment. He was not much of a judge of male beauty. Not like his twin brother Jerry, that's for sure. But he decided that there might be something good to be said about the young lad. If it wasn't for the tragic lack of girth in one particular area, the youth could have been reported to have it all. Even in the youth's half-dead state, this was apparent.

"No protection. Blimey. No protection," Tom muttered to himself as he strode towards the stern to get a towel.

Common decency prohibits a detailed word-painting of the scene which greeted Tom when he arrived at the aft part of the yacht. It may be true that it would spice up the story some, but what of that? The reader will have to make do with a quick thumbnail sketch.

Mrs. Waters, having noticed her audience had suddenly been halved by the sudden disappearance of Tom, had turned the heat of her show up a notch. She was lying on a beach towel covered by a bath towel that barely hid her naughty bits. A half-moon of pale pink flesh that surrounded her nipples was visible at the mound, each breast made in the cloth. From nearly closed eyes behind smoked glasses, she watched the effect caused by her act on the Captain, who was sitting close by pretending not to look. The chorus girl in her was pleased to see it.

Captain Murphy was a fine-looking man, tall, lean, and typically quite dignified, as suited someone in his position. With his bushy graying beard, he might have stuck one as a prosperous pirate, one planning on retiring soon. His dignity was slightly reduced by the fact his trousers were open. He had added a third mast to the two his boat had already sported. He endeavored to hide it in one hand, but the shaft was much too long. It may have been, though, it was difficult to tell for sure, a foot long.

When Tom arrived on the scene, the Captain froze his hand movements. Tom wasn't shocked by the third mast rising from his Captain's lap. He'd seen it before. It was the lovely sight of Mrs. Waters, which stopped him in his tracks. His member had been unmoved by the naked man's beauty but responded instantly to the immodest display of the female kind. She was voluptuous.

"Well! What do you want?" asked the Captain.

"Pardon Sir, I've come for a towel, sir," Tom replied, his eyes never leaving the woman.

"What for?" snapped the Captain.

"For the man, sir."

"Which man?"

"The man that almost drown, sir."

"Drowned?"

"Almost, sir."

"Is he one of our guests?"

"No, sir, he's naked, sir."

"I suppose some of our guests are sometimes naked," Captain Murphy said sagely.

"Yes, sir. I certainly hope so, sir," Tom replied, staring at Mrs. Waters all the while.

"This man is naked, you say?" Mrs. Waters asked, unable to feign sleep any longer.

"Yes, Ma'am. He must have swum without any protection," Tom answered, eager to tell the news to someone interested.

"Protection?"

"Protection from being eaten, Ma'am."

"Eaten?"

"Yes, Ma'am ate. And mind you, this man should protect what he's got," Tom said. Then remembering who he was addressing, he added, "Pardon me for mentioning the last bit, Ma'am."

At a loss as to what the menial meant, she decided to see for herself. "Well, if this man isn't one of us, I suppose I must inspect him. Then I'll see if he'll be a suitable guest, or should be tossed overboard," Mrs. Waters said with authority derived from being the hostess of the party. "Bring him to me," she commanded.

After glancing at his Captain, who nodded, Tom hurried back to the bow where James had recovered enough to be able to sit up. He was looking about still somewhat stunned, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The angel glimpsed before was nowhere to be seen, so this might not be heaven. Though warm, it wasn't actually hot, and he'd never heard that the other option had cool breezes, so that place wasn't the likely locale either.

"Come along with me, laddie," said Tom.

Turning towards the speaker, James saw a man approaching who looked precisely like Saint Peter would if he'd shaved within the last week, and donned a sailor outfit. He thought it best to go along with the man who didn't seem to be the type to brook argument, being large and muscular.

Wheatley staggered along behind the man feeling slightly underdressed. He suddenly realized he was naked, he'd forgotten that minor detail sometime during the excitement of drowning. For some reason, public nudity didn't seem arousing at the moment. Maybe it had something to do with his coming judgment.

As they came to the rear of what James had gradually recognized as a boat, he spotted the two persons already there. Neither Captain Murphy or Mrs. Waters looked at all like the Head of the Heavenly Kingdom. If they were anyone biblical, they appeared to James to be the Devil and the Whore of Babylon. Even in his befuddled state, he could see why she might ply a brisk trade. No matter how dull a sermon might be, the mention of the W. of B. always woke him up from a Sunday nap. Now here she was in the flesh.

Rising gracefully from where she lay, the gorgeous creature pressed the towel against her breasts and slowly stepped up to him. All the while, her gaze never wavered from his shrunken penis.

"What a waste!" she said sadly when she finally raised her eyes to his face. "Such a waste for a face so fine. Even average-sized he'd do very nicely, but this," she added, giving the offending appendage a gentle pinch, "just won't do. Cast him back in the sea!"

"If you say so, Ma'am," said Saint Peter at James' side. Wheatley was grasped around the waist by two big hands and lifted off the deck.

Fortunately, fear and the pinch were stirring up his blood to a great extent. This provided extra flow to the extremities, and one of them was his nub. It grew as it came back to life. It didn't yet reach full size, but it expanded. It wasn't long as a well is deep, or broad as a church-door is wide, but 'twas enough to save him from a watery grave.

It had begun to interest Mrs. Waters, she had second thoughts. "Stop! That's more like it! We'll keep him aboard for variety."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She tore herself away from her new interest and began to walk away from the three men. Her back was totally bare, and her fleshy bottom was on full display. It wiggled with that swaying motion that can mesmerize men, and it did, all three.

When she got to the companionway, she called back, "See that he gets some clothes and dress him for Tea."

Turning back to them, she said, "He can use my towel to dry off." With that, she tossed the towel that covered her front towards them. For a couple of glorious seconds, she stood there stark naked, before going below.

The first word our hero spoke did him credit. It may not have been profound, but neither was it crude. He turned to the goggle-eyed Devil and said, "Tea?"

The sight of the W. of B. naked had been enough to arouse James fully. Youth is resilient, he recovered quickly and now showed what he was made of. His member jutted proudly to the deep blue sky. Mrs. Waters didn't stick around long enough to see her work's effect, but the Devil noticed, as did St. Peter. It was hard to miss.

Tom's first thought was of the delight his brother would feel if he were to see it. Tom hoped Jerry would get a chance.

The Devil stood up and shook Wheatley's hand. It was a firm shake, but an odd one too. The Devil waggled his eyebrows vigorously and tugged at his left ear. If that wasn't strange enough, standing up caused the Devil's trousers to fall to his knees. Springing out like a Jack from a box, came a boner fully a foot long, proving the Devil sported at least one horn.

"Welcome aboard, son!" said the jolly old Devil.

--

Please remember to vote or comment. It means the world for authors to receive feedback for their work.

Thanks for reading!

Pappy Bones