Special Delivery

His mental gears were grinding. "They might trace her to me anyway. What about fingerprints 'n stuff?"

"Good point. You guys better wipe everything down, just in case. Everything! And bag up all her stuff in her duffel. I'll take it somewhere deep and drop it in with a winch handle to keep it down."

So while they scoured all the surfaces below decks and rounded up every last item Cat owned, I quickly let the bosun's chair down from far above the glare of the spreader floodlights, and Cat extracted herself, padded silently over to the crew quarters and dropped in.

I had planned to drive her belongings around in the dinghy and bring them back to her after the cabin lights went out. But when Anthony came up on deck with the duffel, he just said, "Fuck that, the current will take'em," and tossed it overboard.

****

"Well, it almost worked," I reported as I dropped through the hatch an hour later. "Now we just have to get you dressed and back to shore."

"I think you're gay," she said. "Or maybe you like farm animals. Help me out here. What's your favorite herbivore?" She was lying on her side on my little berth, head propped up on an elbow, essentially naked.

"I have pretty good proof that I'm not gay, at this very moment."

"Let's see it!" She patted the unoccupied half of the berth.

I couldn't help smiling. But I said, "Look, could we just talk for a minute about what we're going to do with you? There's a bunch of guys right on the other side of that bulkhead who want to get physical with you in the worst way."

"Well, at least someone wants to. That reminds me. I have this other little problem you could help me with. I owe this guy a lot, maybe my life, and he won't accept my medium of exchange. I'm feeling worthless. It's very sad. Tragic for all concerned, actually. He doesn't know what he's missing." She made her most pitiable face at me.

"Let's see how you feel when I tell you that everything you own is floating out to sea right now." I explained the problem.

"Who cares?! Clothes are overrated. We were talking about your sexual dysfunction. Can I counsel you?"

"Caaaat! This is serious! Are you planning to stay here, naked like this, for the rest of the week?"

She shrugged. She grinned. She batted her eyelashes at me.

"Oh, no, no, no," I said. "I'll find a way to drop you off somewhere. You can have some of my clothes and I'll give you some money to get back to the States."

It was like the sun went out. She flounced onto her back, hugged herself and scowled at me. "God, we're back to this. A guy who won't fuck me. It's because I'm a whore, right? I knew it."

"To me, sex implies some kind of relationship. Especially with someone potentially habit-forming."

"So really, the problem is that you won't get into a relationship with me because I'm a whore. Now I get it. That's sooooo much better. Thanks for 'splaining."

"No, the problem is that a -... you're not going to get into a relationship with me. Why would you get serious? You 'draw guys like flies,' remember? 'It's effortless.' Not to mention your little problem with going steady." I was on a roll. "You even get off when you're on the job! Why would you ever do it for free?"

"That was different," she muttered.

"Different?"

".... Never mind. So the bottom line is you want to get rid of me as soon as you can."

"No, as soon as I'm sure you'll be OK. We'll wait until our guests are off somewhere, and I'll give you enough to get started, and... we'll have some good memories, but you know it's for the best. So we can both get back to our lives." It really did seem sad, when I said it out loud. But it was the only option.

"I'm not taking anything from you. I just need to use your phone to call my bank.... And maybe a tee shirt would be good."

So the next day I dropped our guests off at another beach bar, and while they were getting smashed I motored into town for 'supplies' and dropped Cat at the town dock. She said she owed me dinner the next time we ran into each other, which would be never, and I said fine. Then we hugged a little too long and had a last, long look, and she walked off down the dock, just a receding pair of long, tan, legs, a long blond ponytail and my favorite tee shirt, leaving my life forever. I watched until she turned a corner and was gone.

That night I got to listen to a lengthy discussion about how Cat had cheated everyone, including herself, out of a really good time. Speedo wanted to call the agency, but Anthony said it was too late if their story was going to be that she never got on the boat; he'd better call when they got back and pretend it was his first opportunity. Badass hoped a shark got her, and Bimbo hoped she washed up on a nice island. Speedo said he was going to get a girlfriend just like her, but Anthony told the boys that this was why they couldn't have nice things.

There was no mistaking that the sparkle was gone. Everyone was unenthusiastic and listless, and the charter week died quietly and unmourned. Anthony offered me an enormous tip to keep my mouth shut, and I took it, despite our different understandings of the secret involved.

**************************************

We took the yacht back to its slip and I reported to the owner. He asked me to stay on as caretaker until the next charter. I charged him nothing; it was a good place to hang -- except that everything reminded me of Cat, of course. I did go into town at night, but once again my few conversations wound down and flamed out for lack of enthusiasm.

And then a few days later, when I was returning to the boat with groceries, I saw my favorite tee shirt clipped to the lifeline, rippling in the breeze. It had been washed. Apparently Cat really wanted to be completely square, or maybe completely rid of me. But... it seemed to smell of her perfume. Even washed.

So that night I went early to my usual seedy little bar. It was lit by dim, colored bulbs and ventilated by plastic-wicker fans for that mock-tropical ambiance. Reggae played through antique speakers. I scored the fourth stool from the end and watched as the place slowly filled. There was plenty of time to get buzzed.

As my third or fifth drink arrived, the bartender put it down halfway on the edge of my little bowl of nuts. It spilled. When I started to complain, I saw he was looking over my shoulder. Then a little duffel hit the floor next to me, I smelled my favorite perfume, and Cat sat down. The bartender continued to stare. She ordered two tropical punches with little umbrellas and asked, "Looking for a good time, sailor boy?"

"I can't afford to get involved," I said ambiguously, "so why are you stalking me? And please, don't give me that 'sailor boy' line. I don't want to think of you ending up like that poor bimbo."

"Neither do I."

We got our new drinks and sat there.

She was wearing her bondage bands, some ridiculous heels, and another strapless, white tube dress, one so impossibly short that she wasn't even sitting on it. Now she truly did look like a whore, I thought. A really hot one, though. "So what are you going to do instead?" I asked. "Do you have a plan?"

"Sort of. I'm not sure it's going to work." She glanced at me but nursed her drink for a while before continuing. "It's a long shot."

I waited.

"I thought maybe you could help."

Aha. That's why she was stalking me. I shrugged.

"I thought maybe I could work on charter boats. I'd have to start as a cook, but I know enough to help with standing watch and docking and retrieving halyards and stuff. The pay would be lousy, but it seems like a nice existence. I could work on my tan without being slimed."

"You're right. About the pay," I commented.

"You don't seem very enthusiastic."

"You wouldn't be monetizing your 'best talent,'" I pointed out slightly nastily. "'Drawing guys like flies' doesn't pay much if you're just going to cook for them."

"Someone told me once that my looks could be a multiplier. They might help me move up in the business. Maybe I could get started by seducing someone into hiring me."

".... Is that why you're dressed up like that?" The lightweight dress hugged her like plastic wrap. It barely covered her boobs and did zero to steady them.

"Possibly."

"What exactly are you wearing under that thing, anyway? Just out of curiosity."

"Perfume!"

We sat. I was beginning to get it.

"But if you're getting out of escorting, you really don't need to dress like one, especially for me. You could just be your beautiful self. That might work better."

"Oh, these old things?" she asked, pressing her wrist bands together graphically. "I just like them! They're hot. Hey, I thought my kinks were getting pretty obvious. Were you even paying attention?"

"Uhhh...."

"You think I'd let them do all that stuff to me if I didn't get off on it?"

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, stuff. Like being watched. Being a little submissive. Lots of people like that! And when sex is your work, some variety is nice. At least it is when you have fun clients. It wasn't much of a thrill with those people."

"But it must have been. I saw you in the cockpit that night... "

"Yeah... no. Being watched by those people was like undressing in front of your goldfish. Stripping for algae. It has to be someone who matters. I thought you would have figured this out by now. I was pretty obvious about it."

"You mean...? Why me??"

Silence. Boy, am I slow sometimes.

"So," she said, "since I'm thinking of changing careers, could I interest you in a little seduction tonight? Unpaid, of course. And then when I've wormed my way into your heart, maybe we could talk about crewing together."

"Are we in a rom-com here? Where are the cameras? Because this never happens. It's not that simple. Besides, crewing wouldn't be exciting enough for you. How long would it keep you interested? What about that flying squirrel suit?"

"Well, we could make it exciting. You could design my crew uniforms, and when I'm feeling submissive you could work on being a little more demanding. Let's practice! Why don't you tell me how you're going to fuck me tonight?"

"I'm really not interested in another professional fuck. They're kind of off-putting, frankly. I'm more into fucks where everyone gets happy. Buy me another drink instead."

"There you go again, selling yourself short! I say give it a chance. It makes perfect sense. You could teach me real sailing, and I could show you how to fry your hot dogs to a golden brown and how to get me off!" She looked at her plastic wrist cuff. "I have some free time right now!" When I didn't react, she placed her fingertips on my chest and ran them down my tee shirt to the waist of my swimsuit, but this time she shoved her hand inside and grabbed my cock. She squeezed while my brain tried to operate on insufficient circulation. We drank in companionable silence for a while as she sat there, functionally naked in public, sipping her drink through a straw with one hand and stroking me with the other. It was hard to take my eyes off the tits. They were threatening to escape her dress as she made her little stroking motions. I was starting to get worried I might react inappropriately when she added, "C'mon, skipper. Demand something. I'm yours for the evening. Your wish is my command!"

She had used that same line on me before, but then, I thought it was just a line.

She took another sip through her straw and energetically drained the glass with a slurping sound, sucking her cheeks in and staring at me hard to be sure I got the message. "Wanna go back to the boat? There's something in the master cabin I want to show you." She gave me her best pleading, adoring look.

I weakened, obviously. We paid and walked back through town in the late evening twilight. After a block or so, I noticed that she was kind of projecting her tits forward and strutting along in a way that made them jiggle a lot more than necessary. The little dress was working its way down. It hadn't started very high. Pretty clearly, this was another one of her trademarked clothing dramas.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" I asked.

"Who, me? Doing what?"

The tits jiggled up and down. The dress only jiggled down.

"You know perfectly well... That thing with your boobs."

"Gosh, are you looking at my tits?" She stopped and turned toward me. "Do you like them? Maybe you'd like to fuck them tonight!"

I felt belated sympathy for Speedo. I took too long to answer.

"Don't you have any requirements for me, Captain?" she asked, all wide-eyed innocence. "You must be able to think of something!"

I was beginning to be more at ease with her preferences. "Well... let's try this." I clipped her wrist bands to the hem of her dress, at the sides. She could pull them off, but not without pulling up a dress that was already an inch from illegal, so I thought I was being pretty clever.

We walked on towards the dock. The dress continued to work its way down, but slowly. It was clingy. Cat drew some polite attention from passersby and started to blush. Finally, just as we came to the waterfront, she stopped. "This is taking forever," she pouted. "It needs a hand."

I was pretty sure that I had been told, even before Miss Parker's time, not to rip clothing off women, at least in public. But she was standing right there, grinning, shoulders back and chest thrust out, daring me. And we only needed to traverse the empty dock.

I rested my fingers right on her collar bone. Then I drew them down her chest, nice and slowly. We shared a grin. The blush started to spread as she watched them approach the top of her dress. I traced them lightly over the tops of her tits on their way. When they arrived at her neckline, I hooked my fingertips over it and waited. We continued to grin at each other stupidly. Then I suddenly ripped the whole top of the dress down below her boobs. They bounced out and swung around freely as we turned toward the boat.

We walked down the dock. She kept an upright, shoulders-back posture, projecting her bare boobs and swinging and bouncing them needlessly.

"Aren't you afraid something -- uhh, unplanned is going to happen when you do that?" I asked.

"I have no choice. My Captain made me do it."

A guy who had apparently been working on something down on the edge of the dock suddenly stood up from behind a storage locker, screwdriver in one hand and phone in the other. Cat gave him an enthusiastic "Hiiiiiii!" and a huge smile. She kept going but kept turning to face him as we passed, skipping slightly for the additional bounce. Then she laughed gaily and leaned into me. I was glad the guy didn't fall in. When I looked back, he was trying to get his camera app going.

We arrived at our boat without encountering anyone else. Cat seemed disappointed, but she turned in front of me, blocking the gangplank. "You know,' she said gravely, "this little problem with my hands is limiting my options for seducing you." She glanced up and down the dock again. The guy must have gone back to work, so she got down on her knees. She looked up at me expectantly.

I hesitated. It wasn't even really dark yet.

She opened her mouth. She stuck out her tongue. Her tits were out. Her hands were pinned. She looked at me imploringly. She waited.

I guess I had finally run out of restraint. Plus, of course, I had to work on being more demanding. I took the base of her long blond ponytail in my fist, whipped out my dick, and pushed in right up to her tonsils. She could only tongue the underside of my shaft, but it felt nice. I spent a moment enjoying the sight of her working hard at seducing me, with her bare, trembling tits and her lips stretching for the base of my cock. Then I slid out and in again for a while, holding her by the ponytail. She was staring at me, just like she had been all week.

After a while the master cabin started to beckon me. I pulled her up, grabbed her ponytail again for symbolism, and marched her up the gangplank.

In the master cabin I watched from the big master berth as Cat stripped. She wiggled, shimmied and struggled entertainingly to peel off the tight little dress. Then she lay down next to me. We looked up. On the ceiling was a discreetly recessed mirror. It showed a guy who looked just like little old me, lying naked next to the most beautiful girl in the world. She had long, shapely legs, big, soft breasts, a beautiful face, and a long blond ponytail fanned out across the bed. Miraculously, she had a hand on his cock, massaging it while she kissed his ear.

"Do something to me I can see in the mirror," she whispered. "I want to watch that hot guy fuck that little slut silly."

So, no doggy, then. I rolled her onto her back and went down on her, doing my patient, delicate best to arouse her while she watched the back of my head working her over in the mirror. That gave me plenty of time to think about what else she might like, so after a while, when she was already gripping my hair and making little noises, I reached up and squeezed her boobs to make them bulge, and shook them to make them wobble, and then I pinched her nipples in time with my licks on her piercing. She gave a few little whimpers that seemed like the real, genuine, unplanned thing, since she was also jamming herself against my face and bucking pretty hard.

And when that subsided I got on my haunches between her legs, stuck my dick in her and fucked her without obscuring her view in the mirror. She was fascinated by that other couple. At first she was just watching passively, but as I started fucking harder, she gripped the sheets at her sides and we both got to watch her big boobs lunging around as she lurched up and down the bed.

It was kind of disconcerting that she was watching my reflection instead of me. I decided to see what the attraction was. I positioned us on our sides and entered her from behind. I pulled her top leg back over my legs to open the view, grabbed her elbows and held them behind her. I looked up, and there was that other couple, fucking away right in front of us. The girl, who was the most fuckable girl in the world, was looking right at me, even while she was being held down and fucked silly by that other guy. It was vaguely familiar. But the most amazing thing was that I could control them. I had them fuck harder and made the guy pinch a nipple and brush her clit piercing, and the girl up there started to frown and redden and gasp, and her upper breast started to orbit around wildly. The guy had her pinned so she couldn't control it, and I could make it circle or shake or bounce or jiggle just by how fast I fucked. I sped up, and the girl in the mirror started to tremble and flutter her eyelids, and the girl in my arms started to tense and whimper, and suddenly, "OOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!" cried the girl in the mirror, right in my ear.

I thought I should hurry my own situation along. I didn't want to screw up with a pro. I grabbed that big boob and fucked her hard. I could feel the rush coming and was just about there when the girl in the mirror said to her guy, "Wait!"

"Who, me?"

"Fuck my tits. And then come on me. Just lean back a little so I can see, OK? I want to know how it looks to you... for professional reasons."

How could I refuse? She was my crush. I climbed up. She gathered her tits together and I jammed my slimy pole between them. It appeared and disappeared as I watched the girl on the bed and the slut in the mirror watching each other get tit-fucked.

When I couldn't restrain myself, I just grabbed my shaft and stroked. She gently pushed my hand aside and took over, aiming straight at herself. A minute went by. Then, "incoming!" I warned her. "Duck!"

She smilingly shook her head "no," as though I had insulted her professional standards. In fact, she raised her head a little so I was aiming right between her eyes. She continued to stroke, whimpering slightly and professionally managing to seem anxious and aroused and needy and smitten and on the verge of coming, all at once. She was looking back and forth between the mirror and my straining dick, which was now pointed at her from inches away.