Proclivities - Pt. 10

"I'm so glad you're back!" I exclaimed, embracing him tightly.

"Me too, but I wasn't gone that long."

"You weren't" I replied, looking up at him. "But I just had a major blow up with my mom on the phone and I really need to talk to you."

"Sure. Did you at least get some breakfast?" he asked as he tossed the sandwiches on the counter. "It must have really been something based on the fire in your eyes. Even your underwear looks pissed off."

"Sorry about that, but you're right, it was explosive. Fortunately, I'd eaten before calling her."

"No need to apologize," he consoled as he guided us to the stools by the counter. "Let's have a seat. I'll fix us another coffee and you can tell me all about it."

"Sure," I said getting seated at the breakfast bar. "It's kind of shocking, and I can't believe some of the things I said, but she really aggravated me."

"I'm all ears, but why don't you walk me through it from the beginning," he said reassuringly as he sat opposite me and handed me the coffee.

"Thanks, but first let me say that it all has to do with her meddling in our relationship and her doing sort of a background check on you. Anyway, after you left for the deli, while I was having breakfast, I checked my phone. There were two text messages, one form Judy and one from my mom..."

George, sensing my need to vent, listened attentively, but did not say a word and sipped his coffee, although his eyes occasionally widened as I relayed some of the more profane moments. For me, it was cathartic - those loving soft green-brown eyes calming my nerves and, by time I had finished, bringing peace to my soul, even feeling righteous at my closing salvo.

"Wow," he said, "you really let her have it with both barrels...at close range."

"I guess I did, but do you think I went too far?"

"Sorry to say, but that's a distinct possibility. That said, I haven't even met your mom, but from what you told me about her and your dad, no doubt you made her ears burn. Maybe it's what she needed to hear. Maybe it's what you needed to say. Probably a little of both. Only you can answer that. In any case, your relationship with your mom will be decidedly different from now on. You blew the notion of being the good girl clean out of the water. In the long run, it's probably for the best as she'll know you for who you are, not what she imagined. How quickly she accepts that is another question entirely. In any case, what's done is done and I'll back you all the way."

"Thank you. I'll really need your support tomorrow."

"Of course. I'll carry on as if nothing happened, at least for your father's sake."

"That's what I was hoping, but what about my mom?" I asked.

"I'll do my best to win her over, as I imagine she's not my biggest fan at the moment."

"Yeah. I probably didn't help your cause. I'll give her another call to smooth things over. Do you think I should apologize?"

"It sounds like you both need to, but wait a while, so you both have a chance to calm down."

"Good idea. I'll need some time to think about what to say."

"Hopefully, some time on the water will sooth you savage breast."

"Good idea. My savage breasts definitely need some soothing," I replied, taking a page from his book.

After a quick guffaw, he said, "I'm sure we can find time for that. Did you hear what I said earlier about today being July fourth?"

"Kind of, but it didn't really sink in."

"Do you know what that means?"

"Umm, the celebration of America's independence?" I asked, confused.

"True, but we've got a three-day weekend. OTP is closed on Monday."

"Of course. How silly of me...but what will we ever do?" I teased, batting my eyes at him.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out, but right now we need to shove off."

"Definitely, so do you need any help getting ready?"

"Not really," he replied. "The boat is shipshape. All I need to do is pack the cooler. But you'll need to put on sunscreen. I already did. Sunburn is not on today's agenda. There should be a bottle in a drawer in the vanity. Why don't you go up and put some on before you get dressed. I'll pack the cooler and wait for you. When you get back down we can do earn other's backs."

"Sounds like a plan," I said. After giving him a quick kiss and fetching my underwear, I headed upstairs.

I found the sunscreen easily enough but was surprised that it was a baby formulation. Returning to the bedroom, I placed my underwear in the laundry hamper and gathered my outfit for the day - a white tee shirt, a pair of tight stretch denim shorts that I'd never had the nerve to wear outside my apartment, reaching only inches below my pussy, footie socks and those new boat shoes George had given me last Saturday. And of course, my purple bikini.

Tossing my robe and clothes on the bed, I squeezed some sunscreen in my palm and started applying it, starting with my face and working slowly down my body. The lotion was surprisingly creamy and slick, not as sticky as I had expected. Once I had finished my head and started on my shoulders, I felt a chill. The sun streaming in through the corner windows provided an obvious solution. I pushed the nearby chair aside, stood by the window and welcomed the rays' heat.

After coating my arms, my torso was next. I sure as hell don't want sunburned boobs. Until now, I'd never thought that would be a possibility, and applying the cool lotion in the warming sun turned decidedly erotic, paying particular attention to my stiffening nipples. Applying lotion to my lower back, the arching made my breasts more prominent...and provocative, driving my thoughts to the boat, cruising along, sexily posing by the mast in the bikini...at least to start...so what would you think about that, mom? I'm a naughty girl now...and loving it.

But could I really do it? There'd be no patio wall between me and prying eyes. Nothing but open the open water, with the sun as my spotlight. Decidedly bold...and tantalizingly risky.

The low-pitched rumble of powerful engines interrupted my contemplation, as a candy apple red speedboat slowly revealed itself, heading downstream towards the bay - 'BULLET' emblazoned on its side in bright yellow. Two pudgy middle-aged men sat in the cockpit, which would only accommodate four. Obviously, no purpose other than to go fast...and consume unconscionable quantities of fuel. Not my idea of fun. Paying them no heed, I alternated my feet on the windowsill, applying lotion, starting at my toes and proceeding up my legs. Now just my ass and pussy remained, I glanced up as I squirted more lotion in my palm.

Son of a bitch! The speedboat was making a leisurely circle just beyond the dock, both men shading their eyes, grinning broadly, and looking up at the house. I had no idea that I was so visible, but equally surprised by the sudden thrill that overpowered my instinct to step away.

Well, if they wanted a show, I'd give them one. Feigning ignorance of their presence, I stood sideways to them and proceeded. More lotion...lingering as I spread the creamy liquid, caressing my smooth pussy lips. Despite their limited view, there'd be no doubt as to my hands location, nor the pleasure my fingers delivered, magnified by the newly discovered indulgence of displaying myself so 'innocently.'

With the application complete, I smiled and whispered, "The show's over guys." Question is, who enjoyed it more, them or me? I returned to the bed, putting on the bikini bottom, shorts, shoes and socks. The engines roared and retreated down the river.

As I headed downstairs, lotion, top and tee shirt in hand, my breasts bounced with each step, bringing a wry smile to my face as I anticipated relating my escapade to George.

That thought gave me pause. Stopping in the middle of the stairs, a new feeling emerged. Confidence. Not the 'hey look at me" confidence I'd had at the window, but quiet and comfortable. That was his gift...knowing he would always be there for me. The realization washed over me, its warmth radiating from my heart.

As I entered the living room George turned his attention from the dock to me. "Damn, you look good, but are you sure you want to go out like that?" he said brightly.

"Thanks. Could you put lotion on my back? Didn't seem much point in putting on my top until you did."

"I can get behind that," he said as I handed him the lotion and turned away him.

As he began the application, he continued, "But the strangest thing just happened...Frank and Tony Rizzo took unusual interest in the house..."

"Frank and Tony?"

"Oh, right, you wouldn't know them. A couple of brothers who live a few houses upstream from here - a huge two family thing. I had the displeasure of meeting them shortly after I got the boat. They stopped by one day while I was doing some work on it. Crude and rude. Anyway, they have a big red speedboat and just spent a few minutes or so circling around the dock, looking at the house."

"Well..." I said sheepishly, "Maybe it wasn't so much looking at the house as looking in it."

"Oh?" he said, his curiosity piqued. "Enlighten me."

I related my 'encounter' with Frank and Tony, particularly emphasizing my delightful subterfuge.

"Based on your amusement, I take it you enjoyed it?"

"How could I not?" I replied, facing him again. Taking my sweet time tucking my boobs into the bikini top and making sure my nipples were prominent, I teasingly added, "It's all your fault, you know."

"That I do...although I may now regret it."

"Oh? Why the change of heart?"

"Nothing to do with you. I wouldn't change that for the world. I just have a sinking feeling that we haven't seen the last of the Rizzo brothers."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Don't ever be," he assured. "Got your sunglasses?"

"Good idea," I concurred, retrieving them from my purse as soon as I'd pulled on my tee shirt.

"One more thing. This is for you," he said as he pulled a pink baseball cap with an interlocking NY from behind his back. "Trust me, you'll want it. The sun is doubly intense out on the water."

"Want it? I love it!" I exclaimed as I give him a big hug. "Not only do you take care of me, you do it with style."

"Thanks," he replied as I put on the cap and sunglasses. "Damn! You kook great. I'll get the cooler. You grab the duffle, and we'll be off."

"What's in the duffle?"

"Our hoodies. It can get chilly out on the water. You never can tell."

"I'm in no position to argue."

"Just the way I like you," he said with a mischievous cackle, hooking my arm in his and leading us to the dock.

Upon arrival, he helped me aboard.

Now, I must confess that unknown to George, I had watched some instructional sailing videos at work during a lunch break during the past week. I'd picked up some jargon - bow, stern, port, starboard, windward, and leeward - plus learned that ropes were not ropes. They were lines when holding the boat to the dock, sheets used for trimming sails and halyards for raising them, but, all in all, they only confirmed my ignorance. I just hoped that I wouldn't be a liability.

"Watch your noggin," he said, pointing at the boom of the mainsail as we stepped down into the cockpit, the wheel mounted on a short pillar centered at the rear. Atop it sat a floating compass, the engine key and throttle: within it, a tablet sized digital display - a GPS for boats, he explained. The boom rested in a cradle, that extended upwards from the wheel mount.

Next, we entered the cabin to stow the cooler and duffle. Despite the impressive size of the boat - thirty-one feet, stem to stern, he advised - the cabin seemed rather cramped. Although I should have known, I was still surprised that the mast proceed through the space and disappeared under the floorboards. Benches flanked the mast, rising through a narrow double drop leaf table. On each side, two slender windows capped the walls and beneath the benches, storage cabinets. Currently open for ventilation, George assured me the windows were water tight when closed. Cramped, yes, but upon deeper examination, highly efficient.

He quickly gave me a tour of the essentials. The tiny bathroom, or head, as he called it. The locations of the first aid kit, extra fresh water, radio, distress flares and EPIRB, along with instructions for the latter three. Just be very careful with the distress flare. Only ever shoot it straight up and clear of everything. They burn damn hot. Life jackets were located under the seats in the cockpit. Lastly, he fastened a knife and scabbard to his calf.

"I hope we won't need any of that stuff!" I exclaimed. "What are you trying to do, scare me?"

"Not in the least, but it's important that you know. Besides, it should be reassuring. Venturing out on the water shouldn't be taken lightly. I don't want to make a riff from Richard III."

"What?" I asked.

"You know, A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!"

"Okay, I get it now," I replied, once again charmed by his obscure reference. How does he know all this stuff?

"I expect nothing more than a leisurely sail," he assured.

"That's a relief."

"...and soothing your savage breasts."

"Looks like I've found just the savage to sooth me," I said playfully while pulling up my tee shirt to reveal the bikini top.

"Argh, matey, upon these waters, they call me Captain Savage," he replied in his best pirate imitation, with a broad grin and a quick tweak of my nipple.

"Oh my! Am I now a prisoner of the infamous Captain Savage?" I dramatically swooned, releasing my shirt, crossing my arms over my chest, doing my best damsel in distress impression.

"Aye, wench. Tis a fine pirate booty," he replied with a quick swat on my ass.

"Heavens!" I exclaimed, continuing the charade. "Will the captain plunder my booty?"

George was consumed with laughter. It was contagious...how did he always find a way to allay my fears?

Upon regaining our composure, George turned a key and the engine sputtered to life.

"Only twenty horsepower, but it's plenty for our needs. We'll have to go under power until we pass the bridge," he said, checking the time in the display. "It only opens every thirty minutes on the quarter hour, so we shouldn't have to wait too long."

Upon casting off, we motored away from the dock. I glanced up at the house. Yes, indeed, I could see the tops of the chairs by the bedroom windows along with the TV mounted on the wall. So even if they could only see me from the waist up, I relived the titillation.

True to his word, in about fifteen minutes, we'd passed the bridge and entered the open waters of the bay. However, what I didn't know was that I'd have to practice steering the boat and holding a course on the compass - directly into the wind, while he raised the mainsail, he explained - a bit overwhelming at first, but with his patient encouragement I soon got the hang of it.

"Okay then. Hold her at two sixty-five," he said, standing behind me as I tended the wheel and pointing at the compass. "Perfect," he added, as his hands momentarily squeezed my breasts before he took position next to the mast.

Carefully monitoring our course, I periodically glanced up to watch him run a rope - no it's a halyard! - through a jam cleat and around a winch mounted on the mast. The mainsail climbed the mast. Intrigued, I had to force my attention back to the compass.

"Almost there," he said, "Heads up! Just hold your course."

I'm glad he gave me warning as, just in front of me, the boom lifted from its support, waffling slightly in the wind, otherwise I might have lost it.

George scrambled back to me and took the wheel.

"Thank god," I said as I stepped aside.

"No, thank you. You did great, really," he said with a smile and a quick kiss. "Here we go."

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant, but he took the main sheet in hand, stopped the motor and turned to the left, err, port. With a dull snap, the wind filled the mainsail as he adjusted the sheet and clamped it a jam cleat.

I stumbled slightly at the new, almost magical sensation. George caught me easily as the boat listed slightly, while the engine noise was replaced by the water rushing past the hull and the wind whispering in the sail.

Smiling and still holding me as I acclimated, he asked, "So?"

"It's thrilling and yet...peaceful...kind of like flying."

"I won't get too geeky on you, but the aerodynamic principles are the same."

"It's all geek to me," I teased, wrapping my arm around him, holding him close. I could get used to this!

"So, you think you have your sea legs yet?" he asked.

"Aye, captain."

"Well, in that case, it's time for your second lesson..."

We spent the next twenty or so minutes practicing coming about - changing which side of the boat faced the wind - first he showed me how several times, then with his assistance until I could handle it on my own. For the third lesson, he unfurled the jib, and we practiced some more. At first, I drove and handled the mainsail while he tended the jib, explaining the duties. Soon enough, we traded positions, practicing until I'd mastered it as well.

"As with everything else," he said with a lurid grin, "You're a quick study."

"Class dismissed?"

"Sailing school, anyway. Take the wheel and I'll get some pictures to show your folks tomorrow," he said as he disappeared below deck.

"Good idea. My mom probably figures I'm just out here rocking your boat," I replied, smiling at my own joke.

Lessons completed, I drank in my surroundings - the boat knifing through the water, the sails billowing above me and the open waters all about, barely another vessel in sight - all coalescing into a serene freedom.

Returning with his phone and effortlessly mounting the deck along the side rail, he snapped a few shots.

"What do you think?" George asked as he rejoined me, flipping through the three shots he'd taken.

There was no hiding the shit eating grin on my face, and, despite the hat and sunglasses there was no doubt it was me, the water behind me with a bit of the boom and mainsail above my head. I was also relieved that the photos showed me only from the waist up.

"Nice job," I said, "but I'm glad I still have my tee shirt on. This bikini would probably give them a heart attack."

"They're not the only ones," he kidded, "but I'm glad you like them." Pointing down at the GPS, he added, "With the current wind, we can just continue southerly to the Point Beach bridge, come about only once and head home. That should get us back around dinner time."

"So, no more tacking?" I asked, "What will we ever do?"

"Nope, after all, I did promise you a leisurely sail and I'm sure you can figure something out."

"I already have," I replied, taking a step back. Removing my tee shirt and wiggling out of the shorts, I tossed them in the cabin. I carefully made my way atop the deck and stood next to the mast, extending my arm, and grasping it with my hand, acclimating myself to the slow, rhythmic pitching of the boat. I placed my other hand on my hip, sticking out my chest seductively. Glancing down revealed my nipples poking at the bikini fabric. Pleased with my appearance, I asked, "Does this work?"

"You'd make one hell of a bowsprit figurehead!" he replied, snapping off a picture.

Alternating my hold on the mast, and awkwardly removing my top, I tossed it at George. The wind caught it, fluttering and landing at his feet, obviously amusing him.

I shrugged and giggled, but my embarrassment was replaced by the realization that I'd finally achieved my objective - topless in the bright sunlight, beside the mast out on the open water. The rush of excitement was even better than I'd anticipated. It wasn't just the sun contributing to my glow.

"Damn, Linda, you one hot bitch!" George said, as he watched me strike various poses, from peering at the horizon with one hand shading my eyes to my take on "land ho," all meant to emphasize my breasts.