Mack's Progress Ch. 07

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"Yeah, don't say it, I know. Have you any idea when she's due back?"

"Joan thinks in about ten or twelve days, but it might be longer, apparently it was all very last minute. They flew out there last weekend."

"Surely someone must have an address out there, a hotel or something where they are staying, where I could call her."

"I'll try asking Lindsey's mother tomorrow, Mack. It's a bit late to call her tonight. I'm afraid you are not the flavour of the month with any of Lindsey's family, so I can't even tell her why I'm asking."

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"Sorry, Mack, you're out of luck. I found out that they are away for a month; driving around somewhere over there in one of those motor-home things. No one seems to have any way of getting in touch with them until they arrive in San Francisco in a couple of weeks time," Julia told when she called me back the following day.

"Bugger, I'm going to be gone by then."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"I've been invited to crew a yacht down to southern Spain. Then I was planning on spending the winter kicking around down there, unless Lindsey and I..."

"Lindsey and you what...? Got back together? Christ, Mack, if Lindsey was to hear you say that, she'd be on her way up there tonight and I doubt you'd finish up sailing down to Spain."

"I've got no choice now, Julia; I've committed myself and we have to leave Lowestoft on Tuesday at the latest. Look, I'll see you tomorrow; I was coming down to town to say good-bye to everyone before I went anyway. I was planning on kicking around down that way for the winter."

"But what about Lindsey?"

"She ain't there, Julia, is she? I'd planned on talking to her before I went and well... I'd see how the land laid. But I'm not going to assume anything. I'll try and call when we get down there. Once Lindsey and I have talked on the telephone, I'll see how I feel then; in the mean time I'm not going to change my plans."

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I had a long chat with Bev about what my long term plans were. After asking if I was intending to return for the following season and I told her that was my plan, if she wanted me back. Bev insisted that I leave all the stuff I wasn't taking with me in my room.

My short two days in town went very well really. I suppose Julia had told everyone that I'd at last decided that Lindsey and I were going to sit down and talk things over properly; the only mention of Lindsey anyone made was my mother saying that it was a shame that she was away on holiday.

They threw a party at the Willows the night before I left. And Michelle joined me during the night for what was to be our last ever night together; she woke me in the morning with her crying. I felt like crying as well, Michelle held a place in my heart as I held a place in hers, but we both knew that we didn't really love each other.

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Tameron was a really nice little craft. Something just under fifty feet long, she didn't look like the racing yachts that I'd crewed on before. But she was the kind of boat that you could happily set off around the world in. I wondered whether there was going to be enough ventilation below decks for the hot summers in the Med, but that wasn't my problem.

Craig turned up at Lowestoft with two other guys. We were giving them a lift down to Brest, where they were picking up a bleeding great catamaran that they were sailing over to the Caribbean for its owner.

The run down the coast and through the Channel was in perfect sailing weather. Well, not racing weather but really good cruising weather for the Tameron; she slipped along very nicely. The four of us did hit the booze a bit though and when we finally got to Brest, Craig and I had to stock up again.

The bay took its reputation seriously giving us some stick and very little sleep. But the bad weather only lasted for about twenty-four hours, then things turned very nice again. Although we lost over a day when we joined in the search for a French fisherman who'd gone over board from his boat during the storm. We didn't find him but our two friends on the cat did.

When we'd left Brest they had disappeared over the horizon towards the Azores - their next port of call - like a bleeding greyhound in that cat of theirs and they'd left us in poor little Tameron standing. But they'd had teething problems with the new craft's rigging during the storm and had turned back to Brest for repairs. One of the guys had been up the mast trying to free whatever had jammed on them and he spotted the French guy in the water. There were ships and helicopters of all sizes looking for the guy and the boat that finds him wasn't actually taking part in the search.

We'd just resumed our course when Craig realised that they weren't very far way from us in the Cat, so we changed course and rendezvoused with them. The French Frigate that raced past us going to collect the fisherman from the Cat raced back past us less than twenty minutes later having collected him. Eventually we heaved to near each other, Craig went across to the cat and shimmied up her mast like a monkey, ten minutes later he had the problem fixed. He did try to explain it to me, but he lost me quite early on that one.

After that the Cat resumed its course and we resumed ours for Vigo in Spain, where we were planning a stopover for a day or so. I think it was about that time that I worked out Craig's master plan for these stopovers; he liked them to last at least two nights. As he'd done in Brest, the first night we'd gone out, Craig had got blind drunk. So drunk in fact that the bit of fluff he'd brought back to the Tameron - I thought - required him to have a pretty strong stomach. Whatever he shagged the arse off of it all the following day in the master cabin. Before going out with it and getting drunk yet again; but maybe just drunk enough that he didn't notice what a dog he'd picked up. He'd bed her for most of that night before kicking her off the boat before we sailed in the morning.

Then Craig would spend the next couple of days at sea -- storms and rescue searches permitting -- nipping below deck to check that his dick was still there and that it hadn't turned green or anything nasty like that.

I left Craig consuming far more of the local brew than was prudent in a bar in Vigo and went off to track down a telephone I could call home on... well, the Willows anyway. In the end I used the phone in a small, very questionable looking hotel. But the people there were very nice and extremely helpful; of course there is the chance that they had ripped me off on the cost of the call, but by then I was trying not to be a pessimist about people's intentions anymore.

When I got back to the bar there was no sign of Craig. I had a couple of beers before switching to the local cheap plonk and chatted with some Dutch people, who were also on their way to the Med with a yacht, or they might have been on the reverse journey. We did have a bit of a language problem or then again it could have been the effect that the cheap plonk was having on my brain. Around ten-ish - I think - I headed back to the Tameron to get a good night's sleep for a change.

God alone knows what time Craig returned, but I was awoken by one hell of a party going on in the main cabin, making sleep an impossibility. I struggled back into my shorts after deciding that I'd might as well join the party, as I lay there listening to it. Besides I was wondering what kind of dog Craig had picked up this time. I was sure I could hear German voices; although it could have been my Dutch friends, one of them was a real cracker.

In the cockpit I found two Americans: one female and giving a blowjob to her male companion. He said hi, she never missed a beat. Down in the cabin there were four more American girls, one other American guy who was sitting there with his arm around one of two German guys. And a very pissed Craig who was in the arms of a grand mother, by the looks of things. I never did discover what nationality she was.

Am I being fair there? Well, I doubt it; Craig's bit of stuff was just a few years older than the four American girls. They only looked about eighteen at first glance. It was as I was debating this fact with myself that one of the American girls who'd had her back to me turned around to see who'd entered the cabin and that's when the world stopped turning!

The girl looked up into my eyes and I saw the stars in hers. One look from that girl and all thoughts of Lindsey or any other girl I'd ever known in my life were banished from my mind.

"You must be Mack. My names Codi!" she said, the sound of her voice being like music to my ears. "Craig's been telling us all about you."

"Nothing defamatory, I hope?" I replied.

"No, mate, I wouldn't do that to you. I was just telling them that you're the greatest stud in the whole of East Anglia."

I gave Craig a questioning look and wondered what the hell he'd said to these folks about me.

"Come on, Mack, surely you don't expect us to believe that you lived in the pub with three of the most fuckable chicks in the county and you didn't lay a one of the buggers. I know they all had smiles on their faces after you turned up there anyway."

"Craig!" I said. I wasn't sure how to shut him up without confirming or denying his accusation but I didn't get the chance.

"Anyway your performance with them three chicks from the Midlands has become legend around the village."

"What the fuck are you raving on about now, Craig?" I demanded.

"Those three chicks you took care of on the boat last summer," Craig explained.

I still had no idea what he was talking about and it must have showed in my face.

"Some of the lads were walking down to the Willows one night and they spy's this cruiser that they know three little darlings have hired. They crept up and sneaked a peek through one of the windows, hoping they might catch them changing or something. What they got was a grandstand view of Mack the super stud giving all three of the girls the biggest seeing to that they'd probably ever had in their lives."

"What? They watched us?"

"From the way I hear it told, you were bloody lucky none of the boys had a video camera on them or you'd be a Dutch porn star by now mate. Haven't you ever noticed how the guys all get nervous when you talk to their girlfriends? Word is that you're really something in bed, and half the girls in the village would give their right arm to get a chance with you. That's a point, mate; how come you've never taken any of them up on their offers?"

The subject was off of my girls at the Willows, so I relaxed a little. "There's an old saying Craig, 'never shit on your own doorstep'."

"Explains a lot, but how did you manage to keep your hands off those tits of Millie's? I know I'd die for a chance at those buggers."

"Phil's a big guy, Craig!"

"Yeah, he is, isn't he? Self preservation, I suppose."

"That always has to be added into the equation, if you want to live a long life." I smiled back at him.

I was pleased with how a conversation that had started so badly for me had quietly turned itself around. Craig would completely pooh-pooh any suggestion that anything untoward had ever happened between my girls and me, when he returned to the village.

I was glad when Craig then stopped talking and returned to snogging his slut, who'd he'd been blatantly feeling up during all of the brief conversation. It meant that I could get on with chatting with Codi; no one else in the cabin held any interest for me.

I grabbed two bottles of beer from the sink that was serving as an ice bucket, flipped the top off of one and held it out to Codi. She smiled and took it from me, standing up at the same time. This I took as an invitation, flipped the top off of my bottle, turned around and climbed the few stairs into the cockpit; as I'd hoped that she would, Codi followed me.

"Jees, Marge, couldn't you find somewhere a little less public?" Codi said to the still bobbing head of the girl, as she followed me out of the cockpit and around onto Tameron's foredeck, where we settled ourselves on the roof of the cabin."

"And what brings a nice girl like you to this god forsaken neck of the woods?" I asked Codi once we were comfortably seated.

"I got fed up with college and decided to take a year touring the hot spots of Europe," she replied, with a sarcastic tone to her voice.

"Really?" I asked.

Codi took a swig of her beer and then looked right into my eyes. "Truth?" she asked.

"I should hope so?"

"I 'was' over here trying to forget a man."

"Was?" I replied, picking up on the emphasis she'd placed on the word.

"Oh, yeah, very much was." She smiled at me. "I do believe that I might have met someone today who's going to banish him from my memory forever."

"I wonder who that could possibly be?" I smiled back.

Now, I know that some folks will say that there ain't no such thing as love at first sight. Well, maybe they are right; maybe it's the lust that hits you first. I knew from the moment Codi and my eyes first met that I wanted this woman more than anything else I'd ever wanted in my life before. What's more I'd read in her eyes that she wanted me as well.

Who actually kissed who first? I have no idea. I can't even tell you how long it was before we adjourned from the foredeck to the privacy of my cabin. I do remember sliding into her for the first time though and I remember every sound that she made as well. Every word of encouragement that she whispered into my ear!

It was a long night. The interesting thing was that we'd drift off to sleep only to be woken by Craig's slut screaming encouragement at him in the adjoining cabin. That had the effect of starting Codi and me off again. Well, I don't think we needed encouragement, we just needed to be woken from our exhausted slumber.

I have no idea what time it was when I made my way into the main cabin to put some coffee on in the galley area. Codi was dead to the world and no sound was coming from the other rear cabin where Craig had been entertaining his slut. Sorry but I'd only seen the guy with two women on this trip; they had both looked and behaved like complete sluts to me, letting him blatantly feel them up in front of all and sundry.

The main cabin - or saloon I suppose you would call it - was a multi-purpose area. It contained the sitting and eating area, with the galley in one corner. The table of the dining area folded either away, or down to make the seats flanking it into a double bed. Craig and I had not bothered converting it during the cruise. But apparently someone else had during the night and the girl Marge and one of the other American girls was stretched out on it, both stark naked. There appeared to be no one else left on the craft. God knows who'd shagged the pair of them, but someone obviously had; come to that, I should imagine several people had.

I must have woken Marge and the other girl clearing enough room in the sink to fit the kettle under the drinking water tap.

"What's the time?" one of them asked.

"No idea, girl, and I don't very much care," I replied, probably a little off-handedly.

"Have you seen Codi?" Marge asked.

"Yeah, she's asleep in my cabin."

"Ooh, she got to try the stud out, did she? Trust Codi. Are you as good in bed as Craig says you are?" the other girl asked

"I wouldn't know, girl, but I've never had any complaints."

"Wanna show me what you can do?" Marge asked.

"You got to be kidding, girl. How many guys did you screw during the night?"

"I'm not sure. Dick and the two Germans, I think," Marge replied with a straight face.

"And that guy from the bar last night. He had you against the wall in that alley; I saw you," the other girl reminded her.

"Oh, yeah, and a Spaniard at the bar," Marge added.

"And did you take any kind of precautions against disease with any of them? This is a sea port, you know; you could pick up just about anything around here."

"Oh, don't be an old stick in the mud? Did you take any precautions with Codi?" Marge replied.

"Yes, he did actually and you should know me better than that, Marge," Codi's voice came from the cabin door way. "How's that coffee going, Mack, or are you making English tea?"

"Coffee, very strong and very black. How do you like yours?"

"I'll have some cream, if you've got any."

"Powdered."

"Make it black then, please."

Eventually Codi told the other two to put some clothes on, which they did after I showed them how the shower worked. Then Codi and I managed to squeeze in there together; that led us into another session in my cabin and when we came out again the other two girls had gone.

Craig and his tart still hadn't showed by the time Codi and I went out to find something to eat. After that we went to the cheap hotel Codi was staying in to retrieve her backpack; apparently Codi was travelling light.

I really don't think anything was actually said; it just seemed to be the natural thing to do for Codi to join the Tameron for the rest of the trip. She sat all of my watches with me and we spent most of the rest of the time either sunbathing together or making out below.

I learnt that Codi had been in college on the East Coast of the States somewhere. She did say the name of the place but I can't recall it now; she also led me to believe that it was a bleeding expensive place to study. Not that I took that much notice. She'd actually followed her school sweetheart to the college; apparently they'd sworn undying love to each other when they were quite young. Everything had been a rose garden until that spring when she'd discovered the bugger shagging her flatmate one afternoon.

There had been an altercation and Codi had jumped on the next plane home. Her parents were just about to depart for a vacation in Paris; Codi decided to join them. In Paris she'd met up with Marge - who was backpacking around Europe with the other girls - outside a café near the Eiffel Tower. On a whim and very much against her Judge father's wishes, Codi had joined the little band of female travellers and several months later met up with a very drunk, mad English guy in a bar in Vigo and finished up in my bed.

To tell you the truth I forgot all about phoning Lindsey when we got to Gibraltar. I didn't actually phone back to anyone in the UK, but I did send out a lot of postcards, as I had done from Brest, Vigo and Lisbon. I did the same thing when we finally arrived at Palma and handed the boat over to its owner.

Craig flew straight home from there, I believe. Codi and I stuck around on the island for a few days, then took the ferry to Ibiza; then a few days later, another ferry to Alicante. There we finally found jobs in an English bar; the jobs came with a small room in a flat in the block above the bar.

We worked at the bar for a couple of weeks. I don't think either of us enjoyed the work very much but we enjoyed our off duty time together. I think it was one rainy morning in the bar, when Codi and I decided to move along the coast. Over the next month or so we slowly hopped from one coastal town to the next until we found ourselves in Nice. It was in Nice that we met an English guy who owned several large ski chalets in the Alps. He offered Codi and me the job of looking after one of them for the ski season.

It wasn't very good money and you had to nursemaid some of the guests, but you could get plenty of skiing in most days; not that I had ever skied before I got there, but Codi spent many hours teaching me how to. The other plus was that we had use of an old Citroen car.

I sent postcards to everyone back home regularly and I mentioned Codi in them. I was surprised that when I received a couple of letters back, from Julia and Beverley they didn't ask any questions about Codi at all. I would have thought both those two nosy women would have been curious about my relationship with Codi but they never even commented when I sent them some pictures of Codi and me together.