Inappropriate Pirates, Modern Love

He jumped. Leaning forward with bent knees until he was suspended over nothing but air and concrete, then pushing off, outward, away from the rail and the house itself, away from his fears and doubts and pain and frustrations.

The naked flight itself was freeing, the early evening air feeling chilly for the first time since he arrived. A leap worthy of a Ninja Warrior, or so his stoned state flattered him.

It was nothing like the plunge into the depths of the pool. Entering feet first, but barely, still leaning well forward, his face hit the surface surprisingly hard. Then he was under. Feet and then outstretched hands met the pool's bottom, not hard. The roaring underwater silence was glorious, taking him out of the everyday world. He was in no hurry to reach the surface and the air he would eventually need. Just suspended, supported, in peaceful isolation.

Finally, knees bent again, pushed off once more, this time from the rough texture of bottom, to pierce the boundary of the surface, back up into the air. He stretched his arms wide, floating on his back, eyes to the sunset-red sky.

The buoyant water felt cleansing, purifying. When he finally pulled himself up the ladder it was dark, and he was a refreshed, reborn Rob. No more settling for checking off boxes on a list of good-enough mediocrity. His short time with this angel had left him with broader horizons.

First, he would track JB down. She had fans, she'd said, and a unique occupation. He could find her. He needed to know. Even if what he had felt - still felt - wasn't shared, he thought perhaps she could be a friend. He knew she was an inspiration. There would be time enough after that to consider further paths, new opportunities.

The dim outline of the chaise lounge, empty now where an unknown bikini beauty had waved at him from behind enormous glasses, made him smile. It was time. He was wet and getting cold.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Rob's situation dawned on him. He was naked and the downstairs was locked. He had no phone. He could easily escape the fenced pool area, but that would leave him naked on the street, without keys or ID.

The only way out was upward. JB had done it, though he'd never seen more than snippets of the exact technique she used either coming or going. Thrum. The sound, followed by her unannounced appearances did not give him much clue.

Again, he slid a heavy table, the twin mate to the one upstairs. Once on it, he was under his own balcony and the railing was within easy reach. Apparently, the lithe acrobat had been able to do it without a raised launching pad. She must have an impressive vertical leap.

The first part was easy, a hand on a curving iron neck, the other finding a long, solid metal beak. The first one released with a grunt and rose to meet a manatee's upper flank. He was already breathing hard, his heart pounding. He abandoned the beak, reaching higher yet. Nope. Swinging by one arm, he was lucky to get both feet safely back onto the table.

Fuck.

Back on the concrete, he paced. There had to be another way. If so, it eluded him. The door to the narrow, interior stairway was locked. Of course. It was always locked except when someone was using the upstairs unit while the first floor was unoccupied.

He did some squats, barefoot and naked, trying to warm up muscles for another effort. A few push-ups followed. Only a few; he didn't want to wear himself out. Then he was back on the table again.

This time he found a grip without reaching too high. This allowed him - for a third time tonight - to bend knees and push off, powered by larger thigh muscles. The pulling hand helped and he was able to reach the top of the manatee's rounded head.

He swung, kicked and managed to hook a foot in the space between the railing and the balcony's deck. With a growl and the manatee's stable support, he got his second foot up. The rest was just sheer straining muscle, desperate to get at least half his weight on the opposite side of the railing before muscles failed. Once there, he could rest a minute before completing the climb.

He stumbled in, onto the couch, chest heaving and arms shaking. He looked down when a painful sensation over one knee registered. He had no memory of scraping himself, but he'd lost a thin layer of skin and blood was starting to ooze out.

Naked and alone, exhausted and sore, he laughed.

Finding J-Buck Buccaneer Buchanan was easier than he'd thought. She had a website of her own and several fan pages. The contact page included an 'info@' email address. He'd have to do a little more thinking and research before reaching out that way: it was likely filtering fan email would fall under the responsibilities of a controlling manager/coach.

He watched several short videos of her moving through mocked-up ninja courses. It was amazing, her combination of fluid motion, precision, power, speed and endurance. And she managed to look incredibly sexy doing it; he understood why her fan base was growing. No wonder the railing that had almost defeated him was a cake walk for her, as easy as taking a flight of stairs.

How had he ended up with her in that tiny bikini, clinging to him, sniffing at his neck, wrapped in his robe? There was something especially visceral about remembering her in that robe. Intimate. Part of it was how it had happened, her vulnerability and tears. Part was knowing she'd been totally naked, wrapped only in his clothing. And then there was her 'secret,' wanting to keep it, to have a bit of him near in case she craved his scent.

He woke up on the couch, his laptop browser still on her page. Groggy, back and limbs stiff and achey, he struggled and failed to conjure up the positivity that had come so easily floating naked in the pool. He folded down the screen, his 'inspiring angel' bringing him more heartache than motivation this early in the morning.

Within minutes he was kicking himself for his self-centeredness. What about her? Betrayed by someone she trusted with business and - likely - more. He still didn't have a handle on the level of intimacy between protege and coach, and was almost sure he really didn't want to know, beyond the reassurance that it hadn't gotten to the 'riding' stage.

And where did she go in that taxi, abandoned far away from home, trying to find a place to stay during the busiest week of the year?

His problems were minor: a broken heart over a girl that had never been his. A few hugs, one kiss, some flirting. That was it.

Today was New Year's Eve. The season of new beginnings. He shook his head: had he actually broken things off with Jennifer yesterday? Broken off a relationship with a beautiful woman because he knew...knew what? That she didn't pluck his heart strings, make his soul sing? He smiled. A certain young pirate matey had definitely had an impact, even if last night's smoke-induced clarity seemed distant, out of reach.

Now what? He couldn't grout the tile until later - the mortar needed a full 24 hours to set. Then he kicked himself again mentally: he would need to seal the grout after this and it took days to set properly. He'd be here at least three more days, which meant rescheduling some work back home.

With time on his hands, he took a morning stroll on the beach. It reminded him of JB, so distraught, leaving for her long walk the last time he saw her. 'See you later?' She'd asked and called him 'her' captain, right after that brief, incredible whole-body kiss. Or had he asked that?

Rob looked down at himself, panicked, turned, and ran, splashing into the low surf, facing the morning sun. It hid the sudden erection tenting out his shorts from a family passing by. When was the last time he'd popped a boner in public?

How inappropriate! He held in the laughter at her frequently-used word. No need to call any attention to himself in his current state. Again, JB had him shaking his head in amazement. She was quite a woman in so many ways, and she certainly deserved better than that conman Rusty.

When he got back to the house, he took the precaution of unlocking the upper and lower doors to the narrow stairway to the pool deck, leaving them open to vent out the stale air. Now he wouldn't be trapped if he went for another impetuous plunge. Instead, he used the railing overhead to do a few impromptu pull-ups, then a second set and a third, thinking of the incredible athletic feats he's seen JB perform on video last night. She was already inspiring him to at least exercise more, better himself physically.

It was almost dark when he had finished grouting and wiped the excess off the tiles. The bath looked good. He could polish the dull residue off any time in the next few days while he waited for the grout to cure enough to seal it. As far as the property management agent knew, he'd be repairing the ceiling's water damage too.

New Year's Eve. Alone. What to do? He wasn't going to go out and party with strangers. If things hadn't changed in recent years, he knew he could see the local fireworks from the balcony at midnight. if he bothered to stay up that late.

He took a moment to look in the mirror. He was a mess. He hadn't shaved all week and was now well past the fashionable stubble stage. Sniffing at one armpit, he could smell two days of work unpleasantly mingled with the nervous adrenalin-fear his body had pumped out when he realized he was naked and locked out the house. This was a sour, pungent odor, not the earthy man-scent a certain pirate had repeatedly sampled.

A long, hot shower and a shave felt cleansing on a symbolic level. Out with the old (stink), in with the new (year). He considered digging into his closet and dressing up a little for the holiday even if he was alone. Instead, he decided to go with something more personal, a symbol of the rollercoaster ride this trip had been.

Still damp from the shower, he wrapped himself in his old thread-bare robe, enjoying knowing that a remarkable young woman who had charmed and changed him had been the last to wear it.

The doorbell rang. He almost didn't recognize the soft musical chime. He couldn't remember ever hearing simple repeating tune. It was a area of vacationers, no one canvassed this neighborhood door to door looking for peddle religions or home improvements.

"Hi." She accompanied the atypical greeting with a quick waggle of her fingers that took him back to the unknown beauty, stretched out and striking on the chaise lounge.

His knees almost buckled at the sight.

Her shy, uncertain eyes didn't match the rest of her. High heels had him looking up to her. They matched a shimmering silver dress that clung to her figure, long sleeves covering her arms, high slits exposing toned calves and a hint of thigh. Her hair was radiant, curled into waves that shone in the bright light outside the door.

"JB. You...you're..." Words wouldn't come, but his stumbled attempt seemed to chase away her own hesitations.

"May I come in?"

He backed up, held the door for her. She waited, long fingers tugging at a small clutch purse. More than the flashy dress, the heels, or the discrete touches of make-up, the purse seemed out of place. She struck him as more of a backpack carrier.

"Is it okay? That I came by?" Her eyes wouldn't settle, flashing to his, then down, around the room, and back again. "If you're busy..."

"No. God. Of course." He realized a panicky, straining smile was stretching his face wide, tried to relax. "Do I look like I'm busy?"

He plucked at the old robe's lapels.

She giggled. "You look good. Fresh and clean. And I like the way my robe looks on you."

"Your robe?" His smile still beamed but felt more relaxed now.

Her eyes stopped their jitters, settled on his, looking down from their heels-induced height. Neither spoke. Neither looked away.

As one they moved together, meeting in the space that had separated them. Her arms squeezed him tight, held him locked to her. His embrace was every bit as frantic, clinging like he never wanted to let her go. He didn't. His face tucked in against her neck, barely clearing her shoulder.

He didn't wait for her, but drew his nose under her ear, inhaling deeply, obviously, drawing in as much of her scent, her essence as he could.

"Mmmm." Her head tilted in against his. "Your cheek is so smooth. I liked your sexy man-stubble, but this is..."

She nuzzled against him before continuing. "...really nice."

Really nice. That was an understatement. Rob felt a shudder threaten deep inside him, like it was his turn to burst into sobs. He resisted.

He nuzzled back instead, cheek stroking across cheek, before trying to speak.

Words tumbled out. "You were gone when I got back. I called my property agent, heard what that asshole did, how the cleaners had to kicked you out. I'm so, so sorry. Since then I've...."

"Shh." She eased her head back enough to find his eyes again. Her blue ones, above his own, were irresistible. "Let me go first, please? Otherwise, I don't know if I'll ever get the nerve up again."

He nodded agreement. "Do you want to sit..."

"No. I want your arms around me for this. If that's okay."

His confirmation was to cinch her waist closer in. The dress was cut low in the back, leaving his hands a welcome return to the flawless smooth bare skin they found so delightful.

"Yeah." She seemed to gather her thoughts, the nerve she said she needed right now. "So the creep had built a whole house of cards, and more parts are falling now that I'm looking. I ended up staying at a cheap motel that ended up not at all cheap - do you know how hard it is to find a room around here on short notice before New Year's? I even tried to rent this place, the downstairs, since it was available again. Do you know it showed available for maybe an hour before somebody snagged it?"

"Well, about that..."

"It's still my turn. Don't make me shush the captain again."

"Agreed. Sorry."

"It's okay, I was avoiding the real subject anyhow." He felt her focusing breath, slim torso expanding in his arms.

"You were right. I was more attracted to Rusty as a fixer-upper project than is healthy. It blinded me. No. I blinded myself. I think I'm broken that way. Damaged goods."

It took all Rob's concentration to not interrupt at the too-harsh description of herself.

"You might have a good thing going with Miss Big Boobs waiting for you, naked on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring romantic fire, and I don't want to ruin that, ruin a really wonderful man's chance at that, just because a self-sabotaging, emotionally damaged wanna-be pirate ninja thought there might really be something possible with her first big crush, the only man who was ever truly kind and decent and genuinely believed she was someone special, who suddenly, magically reappeared in her life just when she needed him most."

He realized - or thought he did - what her rapid-fire jumble of words meant. Pushing up on his bare toes, he pressed his lips to hers. It was his first time kissing a girl taller than himself, and his first time initiating a kiss with JB. It felt like she started to respond, then her lips froze, pulling back.

"I'm sorry," he started. He'd been so surprised, delighted at her words, but had obviously misunderstood. He tried to joke, smooth over the awkwardness of his failed attempt. "I take it that wasn't appropriate?"

"No. But I know I've been leading you on." His heart sank lower. Another deep breath. "I don't want to be the other woman in this. Even though, with you, it's really tempting. I wanna be, I deserve to be, the one and only, or nothing at all. You deserve better than to take on a project..."

"Enough!" Almost too loud, but it stopped her, mouth open. "Now it's my turn. First, quit calling yourself a project, or at least a project for anyone other than yourself. I'm my own best project and you are yours."

One of his hands had slid up her long back, under her styled hair to her nape. It held her head, her focus, on what he had to say. His thumb massaged circles over the hard knot of nervous tension it found there.

"Second. I said nothing about big boobs."

That secured him the tiniest of answering smiles. "All boobs are big compared to mine."

She surprised him again: that this beauty could harbor such insecurities about her perfect body. "We'll come back to that one, but before that, third: there is no naked anybody waiting by the fire."

"You made that up?"

"No. I called her today. Wait. Yesterday. And I ended it. Checking boxes isn't enough anymore. You opened my eyes to the possibility that there is someone really, truly special out there for me, and that settling for anything less is selling myself short."

Those blue eyes were unsettled again, flitting back and forth between his.

"Wanna take a guess at who - I hope - that special someone might be?"

He didn't kiss her. She didn't kiss him. They came together, meeting in the middle for the second time, each kissing the other.

It was slow, soft, more than a little hesitant. Until it wasn't. Then it was frantic, hungry, making up for lost time, lips only separating enough for small, hungry noises to escape.

A long leg took advantage of the dress's slit, a high-heeled foot hooking high behind his own thigh. His hand seized her firm cheek, tugging her lower body closer. They stumbled, Rob twisting his weight enough that his back hit the wall first instead of crushing her against it.

Her hips pushed forward, grinding against his pinned body. His answered as short, sharp gasping breaths still failed to interrupt their kiss.

Finally she pulled back enough to get her hands between them, yanked the top of his robe open. She buried her face against his neck, licking, kissing, wetly snuffling. He groaned at the intense sensations it sent along his spine.

Then bright eyes glittered with inner light, locked on him, as they both panted in much-needed air. Her grin was wide, almost drunken. "Would it be appropriate to tell you you smell fucking amazing?"

His answering smile must have looked as dazed. "Any time."

"You do. I think I'm addicted. And your kisses...uh, wow."

"In that case, I say it's appropriate for me to tell you, again," his hands roamed over her exposed back. "That you have the world's smoothest, softest, most wonderful skin."

"Wanna touch it?"

"I think I am."

"Wanna maybe...touch some more of it? Like not just my back." As she talked, his hand slid down of it's own volition, as though it was listening, to find her bare, raised thigh. "I mean, who knows? Some spots might be even softer, even more wonderful to touch."

"Now there's an idea worth exploring." His hand slid higher along her upper leg.

"You know how much pirates like exploring uncharted territory."

"Aye, Captain, aye."

Her thigh dropped, escaping his hand. She grasped both lapels, hauled him with ease to a standing position, off the wall. "Come on. The couch suggestion sounds good now."

She seized his hand, and he let his way be led by the tall, slim shimmering dress, its skirt once more covering all but hints of long legs.

"Second thought, the bed sounds better."

He didn't resist when she changed direction, leading him into the bedroom, his knees backed against the bed. Both hands came up to his chest, lingered, then pushed. He fell back, then clambered up until his feet were no longer handing off the edge.

His silver-sheathed angel crawled up next to him, kneeling by his waist. "And where might my captain's touch choose to explore first?"

His eyes betrayed him, dropping directly to her chest, where nipples forced the slightest variation in the silver fabric's shimmer. She cupped each small mound with an open palm then slipped hands behind her neck. It allowed her access to the halter dress's clasp and thrust her chest toward him.