The Cabin in the Sky

"Do you often catch women falling out of her bedroom?" You ask. He gives a broad smile.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"Oh, so there is kissing involved."

"Only if I am very lucky." You give him a playful smile but your eyes are caught by a small building next to the hedge maze. It is a sloping tool shed, no bigger than an outhouse, but the door, the door was incredibly familiar. You walk closer, yes, tall and thin with faded green paint. The door is exactly like the door in Simone's bedroom that led to the cellar.

"Do you have a need for some garden shears or maybe a shovel?" Orlando quipped. You lean close, yes it even smells a little like the cabin.

You take his hand, and with a coy smile, lead him into the hedge maze. "Come on, Orlando, try to keep up." and dash into the hedge maze. With a delighted cry, he races after you as you turn this way and that, getting lost in the tall shrubbery.

The path weaves this way and that, past marble carvings and colorful flowers. You hear laughter behind you as Orlando races after you into the maze. The soft grass is kind to your bare feet as you fly past the iron wrought sculptures and full hedges.

With a burst of speed, Orlando overtakes you, grabbing your wrist and pinning you up against a soft hedge. He swoops in with a hot kiss that takes your breath away. You return it with fire, using one hand to keep the mask firmly in place. His hand snakes inside the rip in your shift, caressing your breast. Your pulse races, after all, the Countess left you high and dry and you need some relief. You fumble with the laces on his breeches, pulling his cock out into the night air.

He leans back in delight as you stroke him to hardness. "Very good." he groans. You slide your bloomers down and spread out on the soft grass. Orlando crawls between your legs and presses his lips to your hot sex. You shudder in the delight, already hot and bothered from the Countess earlier. You pull him up impatiently.

"I'm coming, my lady." He says, burying his face in your breasts.

"Not yet, you're not." You say, guiding his hard cock into your wet depths. You groan as he fills you, full and hard.

"Oh my!" He moaned, sliding in and out of you. You raise your legs, allow him to reach deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuuuuck." He thrusts become more violent, faster and faster. He reaches down, working your clit with his deft fingers. Your own crescendo builds, powerful and strong and then it hits you. Your orgasm comes, hard and fast as you gasp out your pleasure.

"Oh god!" you moan as he continues to ride you, onwards and through your pleasure. The gush of wetness urges him on as he erupts inside of you, spurt after spurt filling you up.

"Uughhhhh." He sighs above you, a contented smile filling his dark features behind that ridiculous mask, his black curly hair dangling down onto your chest. You gently roll him off of you, sitting up as you fumble for your bloomers.

Down at the end of the hedge corridor, you see a tall thin figure outlined in the moonlight. He is there but a moment before vanishing around the corner but you swear it was the hotel clerk from Dan and Emma's wedding, dressed in modern clothes! You shake your head - it was only a glimpse but the image left you unnerved.

Orlando is sprawled out on his back, watching the stars between the hedge walls.

"I have been blessed by God to have a vision of the most holy rapture, ah! The divine ecstasy of heaven exists here on earth . . and lies between your legs, your beautiful sumptuous legs!" He fondles your calf idly as you shimmy your bloomers back on.

You extend a hand and help Orlando to his feet, he leans in and gives you another head-spinning kiss. You return the favor by helping him fit his cock back in his breaches and get all laced up again. Once you are both slightly more decent, you make your way back out of the maze, peering around each corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange hotel clerk but alas, nothing more than another couple necking in the shadow of a large tree.

Rounding the last turn, you find yourself once again at the garden shed with the all-too familiar door. As you make your way towards it, Orlando laughs.

"This again, beautiful? Do you really have need for some late night planting? I thought we laid enough seeds a few moments back." He laughs but allows himself to be led by the arm to the small building.

Yes, it is definitely the same wood and design, the old faded green paint is even flaking in the same spots as in Simone's bedroom. The doorknob is a lock, just the same and this time, you don't have a heart-shaped key. You reach forward and twist the knob just to be sure.

It turns! Unlocked! You open the door to black void rushing at you. You turn back as Orlando slips from arm, his confusion hidden behind his black mask as the void swallows him up.

THUNK.

You jolt, as if suddenly landing on hard concrete although you are certain your feet never left the ground. You look around, you are back in the cellar with Simone, Tanya and Caroline milling about, pouring through the antiques. Your hands are empty, your face bare. The rack in front of you still holds several gowns but the mask is nowhere to be seen.

You look around frantically. Caroline looks over concerned,

"Hey Brenna, you alright?" You take a breath to compose yourself.

"Yeah, I just . . . hey, where's Pixie?" Caroline looks at you incredulously.

"Um, probably still in Canada." Caroline says, confused.

"Like an ass." Tanya says. "Since she freaking ditched us."

"What do you mean?"

Caroline looks at you oddly. "She couldn't get one of the days off and then something else came up even though we told her way in advance and she bailed. We literally bitched about it for like an hour on the drive up? Were you asleep?"

You rack your brain. What is going on? This is too weird. Your eyes sweep the cellar. The girls have gone back to investigating the contents of the room - Tanya has put on some music on her cell phone while occasionally holding something up to peer at it closer. You try to center and refocus. What to do next?

You make your way over to the far corner of the cellar where a large clear jug has been sitting on its side. The ship was a three-masted sail ship with cannon ports and rather busty carving on its prow. You glance at the brass plate next to it. "The Solomon, West Indies, 1710". You take a deep breath and press both hands to the glass bottle.

WHOOSH.

The wet planks of the ship deck pitches beneath your feet as you stumble to your knees.

"Steady, Steeeeaaaaady!" you hear a cry. You look around, trying to get your bearings in the hot driving rain.

Yes, you are standing on the deck of that ship, the three masts stretching high above you, tipping back and forth in the storm. Men and women move swiftly about the deck, jostling you as they push past. The deck rocks back and forth, as you scan the grey skies, the pouring rain clouds with hot tropical rain. You look down, a dark fabric shirt is tucked into a tight fitting over-tunic with cloth wrap pants, cinched at the ankle. A slim dagger hangs in a sheath on your belt and your hair is tied in a ponytail with a cloth strap. You crack a big grin - PIRATES!

"Enough lollygagging, girl, pitch in!" The beefy man next to you gives you a nudge as you see half the crew has gathered on the main deck and pulling on ropes, lifting something out of the water. Up on the quarterdeck, you see a tall older white man with a square jaw and a trimmed dark beard, with a golden spyglass at his belt, gesturing to a massive black man, shirtless, who then echoed the orders to men on the sails. A young Viggo Mortensen and Quartermaster Michael B. Jordan? This could be a good crew to know.

A gasp comes up amongst the sailors, drawing your eyes back to the main deck. They had hauled it on board. A massive boulder - no - it had a shine to it - this was metal. You press forward with the crowd, closing in. The hunk of metal was rough, as tall as you stand and easily twice that distance around.

"So that's what a fallen star looks like," says the beefy sailor next to you. "When the captain saw it fall, I thought him mad, but this? Who knows what things could be made with that metal?" You notice, as before at the masquerade, that his words don't seem to quite line up with his lips. There is no delay, more dubbing. That's it, like a movie that had been expertly dubbed.

One of the sailors was scratching the orb with his knife, but the blade left no mark.

"Secure it below deck!" Shouts the quartermaster. The crew opens the hold and unceremoniously, shoves it in, landing with a sickening crunch down below, prompting a dense string of profanity from the quartermaster.

Already, men and women are climbing up the rigging to get the sails configured for movement, as the anchor is hauled back up from the murky depths. Even with the wind and the rain, the salty tropical air feels alive, magical, and the sounds of the ship exhilarating.

You make your way up the steps of the sterncastle deck, the term rising unbidden from some recess of your mind. More knowledge from the setting, you theorize. Like knowing the dance at the ball, but not the host's name. Oh Pixie. I hope she is alright. You push the concern aside, can't be helped now. Focus on the present. Or this present, which is in the past.

The captain stands near the door to the navigation room, the spyglass up to his face, staring grimly off the port. You squint, peering past him, and see the black sails. He collapses the spyglass and looks over to you.

"I'm afraid things are going to get rocky, lass, are you any good with a blade?" You shake your head.

"Then you may want to get below decks for a little bit and if it is your fashion, perhaps offer some prayers. We are pursued by the Merry Critchett." The name meant nothing to you but his tone offered all the context needed. Before you can speak, he sweeps past you, barking orders to the men in the rigging and hauling on the wheel to turn the ship about.

This may be a dream, or a vision or time travel but you aren't taking any chances. You scurry beneath as the ship groans, turning about and tacking into the wind. The rain drips down, between the boards in the main deck turning the dark interior of the ship into a wet slippery maze. You fumble your way past the head towards the aft of the ship when you hear the dull boom of distant cannons.

CRUNCH! KACRUNCH! Wood shrapnel explodes behind you as a hole materializes in the side of the ship where you stood not a moment hence. Peaking out, you see the Merry Critchett drawing near, then the flash of their cannons again and you pull your head back in.

You need to get somewhere safer. But where? You scramble down the hallway, wracking your brain desperately for any titbits of information. If you can remember a few dance steps, surely you have something useful?

You hear the sound of blades being drawn and the crack of pistols up above. The boats must be closing the distance. Ah yes! You have it!

You are beneath the navigation room. You round the corner and scramble up a short ladder into the sterncastle deck, leaping over some coiled rope, you skid past the dumbwaiter to the gally and throw open the door to the captain's quarters - the only door with a lock on it in the whole ship.

You slam the doors shut and click the lock and quickly survey the room, a small bed is adjacent to a fortified portico, a stern lantern swings to and fro in the middle of the cramped room, the thick sturdy desk dominates the middle of the room, with number of boxes stacked half haphazardly on the fair side. It is far smaller than you expect but you aren't going to be picky. You hear a blood-curdling scream above you and seem a body fly past the portico, splashing into the water below.

You scramble behind the desk, pulling your knees to your chest and draw the knife, offering a quick prayer to Poseidon, and then Athena, and then realizing the contradiction, Hecate, Artemis and Zeus to cover your bases.

CRACK. The door to the Captain's quarters splinters in a single kick. You will yourself to be as silent as possible. You hear boots on the wood deck, a smash of something getting tipped over, then a hand grabs and hauls you to your feet. You brandish the blade but quick as lighting, a small hand grabs your wrist, bending it painfully backwards till you drop the knife. You are shoved back onto the desk.

The lantern swings close revealing Tanya, in an eyepatch and a long black cloak, brandishing a cutlass to your throat.

You almost laugh but catch yourself as the blade begins to bite into your neck.

"What do you suppose we have here? The captain's whore?" You hear laughter above you somewhere but your attention is focused entirely on Tanya. "She certainly is pretty enough."

"Or maybe she is a cowardly crewmate, hiding while others do the dying for you." Tanya's eye searches you up and down, taking in your clothes, searching for clothes.

Tanya, or rather, the fearsome pirate wearing Tanya's face, looks up and bellows to the crowd. "Or maybe she's the captain's daughter . . . and we all know what we pirate's do with a captain's daughter!" More hurrahs and laughter from the audience.

"Please, please, I just got here and . . ." you begin but aren't really sure where to end that sentence. Thankfully, the pirate beats you to it,

". . . you don't want to die? That depends if you are any use to us. You see, we know those italian iron-mongers sent you out here to retrieve that lump of metal that is now being loaded into our hold. What we don't know is the price that was promised. We plan to sell it back to them but would hate to undercut ourselves."

The pirate withdraws the Cutlass, and wrenches the desk drawer open next to you, grabbing a fistful of correspondence.

"Now, clearly you speak flawless Spanish." You try to keep the confusion from your face. "But unfortunately, all these documents are in Dutch. Now, a common whore probably is not going to be fluent in both dutch and spanish and know your letters. So I will probably turn you over to my crew to have their way with you. The captain's daughter? With some of that expensive education? Now I could put that to use, until I tire of your and turn you over to my crew. A crewmate of this ship? I would be oath-bound, as a fellow sailor, to return you to your shipmates where you would await your fate together."

She leans in close, her breath hot as she pushes you back onto the desk.

"So tell me, my beautiful new friend, which are you?"

You find your voice. "I'm the Captain's Daughter." you assert, trying to fill your voice with as much confidence as you can muster. The pirate looks you up and down, bemused.

"You do seem to be suffering from an overabundance of education. Chiho! Please deposit the princess in my quarters, I will be there once we have finished here. And the rest of you lot,"

She swung her saber in the direction of the door, where several men and women had gathered. "You are welcome to anything not tied down. Remember, food stuff goes to the galley, no hoarding and anything with paper or writing comes to me." A lusty cheer went up as the crowd dispersed.

You stand on wobbly legs, as the pirate with Tanya's face turns her back to you and begins rummaging through the cabinets next to the Captain's bed. You are about to speak when you feel a massive hand on your back, the thumb and forefinger nearly encircling your entire shoulder. You look up.

A behemoth of a man, shirtless with dark beautiful skin the color of cocoa smiles down at you. He is twice as wide as you are, his waist easily level with your chest, stooping slightly in the cramped quarters. His face is open and though the smile seems slightly predatory, his eyes are kind. A white scar winds its way across his throat, marring his otherwise breathtaking features.

"Oh, you must be Chiho. Hi." He nods and gestures towards the door, his arm almost reaching all the way to the door frame. With your hulking escort, you make your way up the ladder to the navigation room, trying to ignore the body of the helmsman, crumpled in the corner, and out onto the quarterdeck.

From here you can see the Merry Chritchett, a three-mast black sailed ship, bristling with cannons and crawling with colorfully garbed pirates. They have opened up the hold and hauled the meteorite out of this ship - suspending it in air from the mizzenmast. There it shimmers in the driving rain, and through all the driving rain, the shouts of the crew and the pounding of boots on the deck, you can swear you hear a faint drumming noise, just at the edge of your perception, coming from the meteorite.

Chiho puts his hand firmly on the middle of your back and gives you a gentle push forward, and makes a soft clicking noise with his tongue, pointing towards the edge of the boat.

"Yes, sorry. Just taking it in." The two of you come to the edge of the boat. The gap between the boats seemed vast. Chiho gives the odd clicking noise again.

"You want me to jump." He gives you a stern nod. "Are you kidding me?!" He is impassive.

You look back, it's too far. Oh god, it's too far. You take a step back, and prepare to run and jump. You take two steps and WHOMP.

Chiho intervenes, and you face plant into his chest. He throws back his head, laughing soundlessly.

"You jackass." You punch him playfully in the shoulder. He bends low and scoops you up, his arms under your knees and back and with a smooth motion, leaps the gap between the boats.

He lands with a heavy thud on the other ship. The other pirates leer your way but a stern look from Chiho discourages any idle hands. He leads you down the stairs towards the captain's quarters, behind a heavy door painted with a single Black Orchid.

Inside, you see a full bed in the far corner, a small contained library in cabinets in the wall, a standing table and multiple hanging baskets filled with spider plants. He points towards the bed and makes a "stay" motion. He reaches into a locker at the base of the bed and fishes out a warm cloth to dry your soaked clothes.

You pat your chest and waist, trying to get dry from the soaking rain. Chiho's eyes cling to your curves as he moves to the far corner of the room. You are about to say something when the pirate wearing Tanya body stomps into the room, her hands bristling with reams of paper.

She looks at you, sitting demurely on her bed and then shoots Chiho an accusatory look.

"Not even tied up? You do have a soft spot for this one." Chiho looks down at his feet and blushes. Tanya rounds back to you.

"Well, are you going to be a problem?" You shake your head, your long brown hair, still wet from the rain, tossing all over your shoulders. Tanya leers at you with her unpatched eye.

"What do you think of the Merry Critchett and her captain, the Black Orchid!" she strikes a pose. Ah, at least now you have a name. She searches your face for a reaction but garnering none, she briskly moves on.

"Hmmm, well, I might just tie you up for good measure. Let's see how this goes."

She lays out a roll of paper in front of you. The words blur, shift and arrange into neat, handwritten english sentences, detailing a sale agreement between the Orsini metalworks and the Dutch shipping vessel the Gourden Leeuw, detailing the time, delivery and amounts due by each party.

The Black Orchid is studying your face intently as your eyes move across the page.

"Well?" You have to think fast.

"I can read it but I won't share a word unless you guarantee my safety." She snatches the paper away from you.

"Guarantee? Guarantee! I don't think you understand quite the predicament you are in, princess." She places one leather boot on your chest and presses you down into her bed.