Hurrah for the Pirate King

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Back at the hotel, I briefed the head of the Phoenix office and we got our boss, the CEO, on the phone.

"Skipper, it's not as bad as you feared. The office is uninhabitable and water fried most of the electronics and PCs, but the servers and the big copier came through okay. Since the fire started after the daily and weekly backups were completed we only have lost whatever the staff didn't back to the servers in the individual workstations. I'll strip the hard drives and see if any of them still work. The paper files are wet around the edges but mostly we should be able to save them." I yawned. "Bottom line: Mr. Johnson will need to arrange for new offices, but three days from the time we have new space we'll be at 90% or better. The setup here in the hotel will do until then."

The CEO, whose nickname was a result of his passion for his sportfishing boat, was pleased. Johnson prodded me awake and I realized I'd fallen asleep in the middle of the call.

"What was that again, Skipper?"

"I asked you when was the last time you slept, Harry."

"Uhh...."

"If you have to stop and think about it, it's been too long. Put him to bed, Johnny, and let him sleep himself out. He's got you up and running, and that's the important thing. Get some rest, Herr Kapitan, that's an order."

"Aye aye, sir." Brilliant repartee. I was barely aware of Johnson guiding me back to my room, which doubled as the server room for the temporary office. I was asleep before he got out the door.

When I woke, it was dark outside. I felt alert but stiff. I turned on the television and discovered I had slept the clock around. After a shower, a shave and a change of clothes I felt much better and wandered down to the restaurant for dinner. On returning to my room I checked the server, corrected two minor faults that had come up, fired up my laptop, logged on and checked my emails.

Mr. Johnson had left me one telling me he'd signed on new office space and he'd take me to see it in the morning. He'd signed it 'Bill,' a tacit invitation to stop being so formal with him. There was one from his executive assistant, requesting a formal write-up on my inspection of the old offices for insurance purposes and inviting me to lunch. She was cute; this could be interesting. There was one from my supplier thanking me for the equipment rental order and offering any help they could. I sent off a quick reply stating that we'd be buying what we had rented and more from them, so start working up some figures we could argue about.

There was one from Rani.

"Darling, when you get this please call me. Any hour, day or night. If you get my machine I'll call you back as soon as I can. I miss you too."

I looked at my watch. She wasn't working at the Café tonight; she could be in. I picked up my cellphone and dialed. She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Harry!" she squealed. "How are you? Why haven't you called?"

"First free moment I've had." I brought her up to date. "The head of the Phoenix office has signed a lease on new office space and after I see it tomorrow I can start setting it up. I might be home by the weekend but more likely the beginning of next week." I paused. "Would you like to see me when I get back?"

"I wish you were here right now. I've been thinking a lot about what you said. I can't go on being afraid of being hurt forever but I'm still scared now. I wish you were here to hold me... to caress me... to tease and pleasure me, darling."

"Where are you, exactly?" I asked.

"I'm in my bedroom, lying on the bed."

"What are you wearing?"

"A silk bathrobe, with nothing on under it," she breathed. My cock sprang to attention and I kicked off my shoes and lay back on the bed.

"Would you like to play a game?" I asked.

"What kind of game?"

"A pleasure game, baby. You might enjoy it."

"All right."

"Open your robe," I ordered. I could hear the sounds of slithering fabric as Rani complied.

"Using just your nails, stroke your breasts. Circle the nipples very slowly and trace your nails across them. Then feather-touch them and watch them erect for me."

Her breathing deepened in my ear. My cock got harder as I imagined her hands stroking her boobs, teasing her nipples, seeing them engorge and erect as she played with them.

"That's right. Now, pinch them gently. Give them a little pull. Make them stand up."

There was a faint "Ahh..." in my ear as she obeyed me. I could see her proud bosom, the skin taut as she pulled on her nipples, her eyes closed as she yielded to the sensations.

"Cup your left breast and tease the nipple with your thumb. Trail your right hand down, across your belly and down to your pussy. Don't touch the clitoris yet. Now spread your legs for me. I want your to use your nails and trace the outline of your labia with them. Go slowly and feel them start to swell for me. Feel the blood filling the veins, engorging them, darkening them, readying them to be parted."

"Mmmm...ahhh...yes...oh, good, that's good..."

"Lift your tit to your mouth and suck on the nipple," I ordered. "Like that. Nibble on it. Don't stop teasing your pussy, baby. Take your fingers and slip them between your pussy lips. Feel how wet you are. Feel how hot this is making you."

I could hear squishing noises as she moved her hand in and out of her twat and the wet sounds as she suckled her own breast, biting her own nipple, imagining it hot in my mouth as she surrendered herself to the pleasure. My hand was on my cock now, slowly stroking it as I visualized Rani masturbating for me.

"Now let go of your tit and use your nails on your clit. Carefully now, you don't want to scratch it. Feel it. Do you like that, baby?"

"Oh yes!" she panted. "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes! Oh! Ahh! Oh! More! Please! Harder!"

"Rub your clit now, fast as you want. Get some of your juices onto it, it'll feel even better. Are you close, baby?"

"Yes! It's so good! So good! I'm close! Make me cum!"

"Say it, Rani!"

"I want to cum! I want you to make me cum! Please, make me cum!"

My hand was moving as fast as hers must be. "Press down hard and rub the clitoral shaft, honey, and let go! Surrender to the feeling! Cum for me! Cum! Now!"

"YESSS!" she shrieked as she reached her peak and her orgasm erupted. I could see her lying on the bed, her hair spread across the pillow, her back arching to push herself onto her hand as she came in my ear. I listened to her moan as she slid into afterglow and I heard her fumble the phone as she picked it up from where it had fallen onto the bed.

"That was marvelous," she breathed. I could see her eyes, half-lidded in drowsy sensuality, her mouth slightly open with puffy lips. "What you do to me, you darling man! Oh, I wish you were here beside me."

"Sleep well, my sweet. Good night."

"Good night, Harry." I hoped she would sleep well, but for me a cold shower was going to be a necessity if I was to get any sleep at all.

This set the pattern for the week I was out of town. Every evening I would call Rani at home at a time when I thought she'd be in and if she was, we'd have phone sex. At my direction, she acquired a couple of stiff feathers; a rabbit skin that she sewed into a crude mitten, fur side out; and a selection of erotic oils to use on her nipples and her pussy to heighten sensitivity. The time it took for her to orgasm shortened, and I had hopes that one day she might be able to cum on command. At last I was able to return home, my work in Phoenix completed.

I hadn't told Rani I was back, wanting to surprise her at dance class. I spotted her standing by the studio door, her back to me, in one of the few spots in the room where your reflection won't give you away if you are trying to sneak up on someone. I withdrew a short feather from my pocket and gently drew it along her neck over the pulse point. She spun around and saw me, here eyes lighting with delight.

"Harry!" She threw her arms around me and locked her mouth to mine, pressing hard against me, her tongue reaching into my mouth with an eager urgency that I reciprocated. Time stopped as we lost ourselves in each other...

"Ahem."

We broke the kiss. Sandi was looking at us, hands clasped behind her back, rocking on the balls of her feet, her sarcastic face on. The rest of the class was in ranks for warm-up, expressions ranging from speculation to barely concealed mirth on their faces.

"I know you haven't seen each other in awhole week, but if it wouldn't be inconvenient, would you mind joining the rest of the class so we can get started? FALL IN, YOU TWO!"

There were chuckles as we took our places at the back of the class. The guys gave me you-sly-dog looks and I heard somebody mutter, "Wink-wink-nudge-nudge-say-no-more, squire!" while the women smiled at Rani with knowing glances, raised eyebrows and subtle hand gestures that meant "So how long has this been going on?" and "So how is he?" Sandi's starting the exercises came as a relief. Not that I was ashamed of what we'd done, but it's really not a spectator sport. Still, it felt good to be with her even at the expense of a grilling in the locker room.

We got back into our regular groove of movies, dancing and exploring the city together, work permitting. Stopping for a cup of good gourmet coffee was our post-practice ritual on the nights Rani wasn't performing. The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, she looked up from her cappuccino after we'd gone to a John Ford revival featuring The Quiet Man. She seemed nervous, although I couldn't imagine why.

"Can I ask you something, Harry?" she asked.

'Would you please rip my clothes off, spread me on this table and fuck me, fuck me, fuck me until the cum pours out of my ears?' I thought to myself. Aloud, I said, "Of course, honey. What's on your mind?"

"Mother and Father know we've been dating, and they want to meet you. I've told them all about you, but they want to look you over... to see if you're suitable," she finished in a rush.

" 'Suitable?' " I quoted. "What century are they living in? And what country? Maybe I should have Michaeleen O'Flynn come from Innishfree to negotiate for me as th' Party o' th' First Part. Or should I have my teeth cleaned, the better for your folks to examine them?" I was working up a good case of indignation.

Rani laid a hand on my forearm. "It won't be as bad as that, darling. Now if we were dealing with Great-Grandmother in Amritsar this would be a trip to frozen hell, but my family has been in America for three generations. Mother and Father were born here. They just want to meet you.

"Could you – would you come for Thanksgiving?" She looked at me with imploring eyes.

I sighed. "I had hoped you'd come to my place for Thanksgiving dinner," I said, adding "and that you'd stay for breakfast," to myself, "but if you would like me to come to your parents' house for Thanksgiving, I'll be honored."

'It won't be as bad as all that, I promise," she said.

"Can I bring anything?" I asked, visualizing a table laid with turkey tandoori, cranberry chutney and the East Indian version of succotash.

"Mother cannot bake fruit pies to save her life. If you'd bring a couple or three big ones, that would solve the dessert problem gracefully."

"I'll do that, and the whipped cream too," I said, adding mentally, "which I wouldmuch rather spread all over your tits and pussy and lick off before I filled your honeypie with sausage stuffing and cock-cream!"

Rani gave me a little kiss and leaned her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, darling man. I'll email you directions."

Two days later after a two-plus hour drive beneath lowering clouds that promised snow, I knocked at the door of an old Edwardian manor house, the kind you read about in Evelyn Waugh or Agatha Christie. At one time it must have been some stockbroker's country place. Equally obviously, the land that comprised the estate had mostly been sold off to a developer at some point in the late 1950s. The big stone pile sat incongruously atop a small hill with landscaped grounds, a remnant of a more elegant time surrounded below its hill by one of those suburban housing developments where the Owners Association makes sure all the houses look alike and you're lucky if you can find your own without a GPS tracker. Before I could ring the doorbell, the door swung open to reveal Rani in a simple red dress but wearing enough gold jewelry to choke a horse.

"You found it!" she cried happily, hugging me from the side so as not to squash the three large pies I had baked, nor bump the plastic bag depending from my wrist. "I've been waiting for you to get here. What's in the bag?"

"Two large cans of double-heavy whipped cream. It's the next step above heavy cream," I explained. "Sikhs do eat cream, don't they?" I asked, belatedly realizing that it might be a dietary taboo.

"Of course!" she laughed, leading me into the front hall.

"Let me take those pies off your hands," said another female voice, this one with a faint French accent. I looked past Rani to see a slender woman nearly six feet tall, with classic facial features of the sort that don't change from age 20 to 60. I realized I was seeing my girl's face some years older and that this picture of her future self was something to look forward to, as I handed the pies over.

"Auntie Dariah, this is Harry, "said Rani. "My boyfriend. Harry, this is my Aunt Dariah, my mother's sister."

"I'll be happy to shake your hand, just as soon as I can free mine up," I said, smiling at her. To my surprise, Dariah leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek and said something in a foreign tongue while giving me a sidelong look. Rani's eyes sparkled and she laughed, relieving me of the plastic bag and leading me by the hand through the central hallway and into the kitchen.

An Indian lady perhaps two inches shorter than Rani and about 15 pounds heavier, but with that additional weight nicely distributed, was in the act of taking a huge turkey out of the oven, supervised by a silver-haired woman in her late sixties in a sari. Across the room, a tall, dark-skinned black-bearded gent in a turban was struggling with a carton of champagne, muttering imprecations as he tried to peel back the lid. Looking at the three of them, it was clear where the genes that had combined so fortuitously to produce Rani had come from.

"Mother, Father, Grandmother, I would like you to meet Harry," said Rani, still holding my hand. Whether she was apprehensive about their reaction or simply declaring her relationship to me, I wasn't sure.

Grandmother put her hands together under her chin and bowed to me. I let go of Rani's hand, put my hands together under my chin and returned the bow, making mine deeper than hers.

"A pleasure to meet you," I said.

Grandmother raised her eyebrows but smiled approval at her granddaughter, saying, "If you must bring homegora-log, at least you've picked a well-mannered one, which puts you ahead of your sister Sushila. Fie! What an ox that one is seeing!"

Rani's mother laughed. "Hush, Mother! Harry does not need to hear how scandalous you think Sushila's beau is." She offered me her hand. On impulse, I brought it to my lips and kissed it; it seemed appropriate to her dignity. She looked at me with amusement and smiled.

"Oh, I think I'm going to like this one, Meharani." She gave my hand a squeeze before I relinquished it, which I took as a vote of confidence. Looking over her shoulder, she called, "Suji! Forget about that carton for a minute and come meet our guest!"

Rani's father ignored her and continued his struggle with the champagne. I walked over.

"Would you like some help?" I asked. He stepped away from the box and waved a hand, inviting me to have a go at it. I reached into my pocket and took out the lockback knife that I am never without. Honed to a razor edge, its two-inch blade has done everything from stripping wire to opening cans of coffee. Not bothering with the heavy staples that secured the flaps, I stuck it into the bend in the cardboard and rapidly sawed my way around the lid. The carton gave up the fight and surrendered its bottles of bubbly. Rani's dad looked at me.

"May I see that?" I handed him the knife. He looked at it, noting its well-worn appearance. He folded it and handed it back to me.

"How long have you had that beard?" he asked abruptly. I involuntarily fingered my goatee.

"As a Vandyke, a little over a year. Before that I wore it full but cropped short, ever since college." Curious questions, even from a father who obviously doted on his daughters.

"What do you think of kosher hot dogs?" he asked. At last the questions started to make sense.

"Don't like 'em," I said shortly. "And while we're on the subject, sir, I think halal rules are just as foolish as kasruth dietary laws, at least in this day and age and in this country."

Rani's father smiled for the first time and offered his hand. "Call me Suji. Be welcome in my home." To the womenfolk who had followed me over he added, "Harry is half a Sikh already even if he doesn't know it, and half a loaf is better than none, isn't it?" The four of them laughed and I smiled. I wasn't being mocked, but rather accepted to some degree.

Picking up two champagne bottles, Suji motioned to the back hall with a jerk of his head. I picked up the case and followed him. He led me onto the back porch and set the bottles down, and I helped him take the rest out of the case to cool. It made sense; why take up refrigerator space when Mother Nature has turned the outdoors into one big freezer? He pulled a pack of cigarettes from a pocket and offered it to me. I shook my head no and he lit one for himself.

"I can't even smoke in the house anymore," he grumbled, "and Lakshi is always after me to quit. Make no mistake, Harry; men may run the world but women run the household!" We laughed companionably and chatted about inconsequential things like the football season, the current crop of movies and the idiots in Washington mismanaging the country. Suji stubbed out his cigarette and as we turned to reenter the house, he laid a hand on my arm, stopping me.

"Just one thing, Harry. Meharani has been moping for most of the past year. When she started going out with you, her calls home perked up. Today, when she sees you, she is happy the way she ought to be. The way I like to see her. I don't like it when she is unhappy.

"She is my favorite daughter. If you do anything to hurt her, I will track you down and cut your heart out. Do you understand me?"

"I can assure you that hurting Rani is the farthest thing from my mind," I replied. He looked intently at my faced and nodded, satisfied. We went back into the house. The turkey was just being carried into the dining room. Suji motioned me to sit at his right hand, with Rani next to me and Dariah and Rani's kid brother Mehki across from us.

Dinner was a typical Thanksgiving Day affair, with conversation and questions interrupted by lots of good food. I learned that Dariah was a mannequin, a runway model based in Paris who worked the big shows in London, Paris, Milan, Rome, Prague and New York, with seasonal trips to Bombay and Tokyo plus layouts in the high fashion magazines. Mekhi, a 14 year old 2/3rds scale copy of his father with his mother's paler skin, proceeded to bombard me with technical questions on learning I was a computer jock. Afflicted with a serious case of digital addiction, he was only momentarily stopped by rebukes from his father about monopolizing a guest. Rani and Dariah watched us with tolerant amusement as we lapsed into computer dialect understood by no one else at the table. Talking shop with a teenager was a day at the races compared to the grilling Sushila's hulking boyfriend Bobby was enduring at the hands of her mother and grandmother. I'd have bet money he wished he was somewhere far, far away instead of under their gimlet eyes and whetted tongues that wagged constantly despite Sushila's dirty looks and remonstrations.