The Hemingway Maid Ch. 03byAdrian Leverkuhn©
Elise and I lay next to each other in the forepeak, watching the Moon peek out from behind backlighted clouds that scudded away to the south. We were both on our backs, just listening to each other ramble on, looking at the clouds and talking about what they portended. I had told her - in unmistakable terms - what crossing the Straits would be like under the kinds of conditions being forecast. I'd never been caught in the Straits before in a major storm, but had ridden out my share of storms in other seas, many on Sabrina, and most had been far, far away from land. Which was good. Boats and land, by and large, are not a good mix. I told her a small boat at sea in a storm was a lonely, frightening place to be. When I look back on events with the perspective of so many years, I often wonder if I had made the situation clear to her.
But it wouldn't have mattered. Not in the least.
She had tuned to me, and in the moonlight her silvered-lavender form seemed to hover in the air before. I had shuddered as a spectral premonition tingled lightly through some deep recess in the back of my mind.
"Are you cold?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
"What is it?"
I tried to shake the feeling away. "Baby, I don't think it'd do any good to talk about it right now. When this is all behind us, then we'll talk."
"Jim, you can't hold everything in. Most especially your fears. They'll eat you from the inside out, leave nothing but a bitter shell."
I looked at her floating there in the infinite space that despair has hollowed out in the universe for lost souls to wander in, and I knew she was going to die. I was certain. "I just had a bad feeling about things, Baby. You know, just kind of a cold finger tapped me on the shoulder and went 'Boo!'" With my little expletive, I dove over and tickled her mercilessly until she was begging for mercy. Then I kissed her. Gently at first. Then I kissed her with a passion born of total love for her, for the many things she had done in her life - and with her life on Sabrina.
And just as suddenly I was crying. And no little trickle of tears here, either. I was consumed by my fear for her life. When I had thought about loving her, then to suddenly face the very high probability of life without her . . . It had overwhelmed me completely.
I felt her holding me, stroking the back of my head. She didn't say a word.
Ghosts seldom do.
I could feel the sun on my face, and I woke with a start. I felt the reassuring presence of Sabrina's mass all around me, but not the warmth of Elise's breath on my neck, or her legs and feet by mine. Had she gone already?
No sounds in the galley. No footsteps on the deck. I felt totally panicked at the thought of her not being here beside me. I got out of the bunk and dressed hurriedly. I made my way to the cockpit, and there she was, talking with Pedro in that gentle reassuring voice of hers. I kept to the shadows, didn't want to interrupt them, and slipped back to the forepeak. A few minutes later and she was coming back down below. I waited in the berth for her, and watched her walk toward me, looking me in the eye as she approached. She slipped out of her clothing as she came to me, and never did she utter a word.
She came to me in the berth, then pushed me down. I lay there - face up - and watched in fascinated wonder as she sat astride my face and lowered herself onto my mouth. I reached up and held her hips as she kissed my face with her loins, and I drove my tongue into the musky recesses of her womb. The hatch over her head was open, and she placed her hands there, hanging by her arms over my mouth, driving away the spirits I had felt last night by the sheer force of her will. I had raked my fingers up her belly, found my way to her breasts as she rediscovered her secret rhythm; as she moaned and wailed she gave way to the forces of her need. She came so deeply I was sure she would combust in the air above me, and so released, her spirit would flee from the winds I was so convinced were coming to claim her.
I spent the rest of the day going over Sabrina's many systems: her electrical components I methodically went over, checking for signs of corrosion or loose connection; I cleaned the fuel filters and changed the engine oil; went up the mast to check the rigging for signs of damaged stays and fittings. I fitted the storm trysail to the mast, and took down the sails up forward from their roller furling mechanisms and put Sabrina's storm sail on with their heavily reinforced hanks. The tanks were full, batteries charged, steering cables lubricated, packing glands checked, and on and on and on. Elise worked down below, wrapping loose belongings with any kind of fabric we had on board, dish towels, underwear, spare socks, you name it, then stuffing them into drawers and under berths in storage compartments. We stopped to eat every now and then, just quick sandwiches, and continued working.
The Sun gave up the fight and disappeared behind thick dark clouds; the wind began to pick up. When I had every possible loose item on Sabrina's deck stowed - each a potential deadly missile in the ragged winds of a tropical storm - I looked around the boat and relaxed. The Sun - such as it was - would set in about an hour; around a quarter till ten. I went down below and set blankets and towels out, started the stove and put some coffee on. I had no idea when Ron's Navy Seals were going to show up, or when we were going to head off into town looking for this wayward girl that he had decided was going to come along. Elise was in the forepeak, and apparently wanted to keep out of sight. I couldn't blame her.
I heard a tapping on the hull and looked up. It was barely dark, too early, I thought, for the Navy guys to be here already. I went up on deck and looked over the side, and there they were! Two guys in black neoprene wetsuits, black makeup all over their faces, right outta the movies.
"Sorry we're early. You Jim?"
"Yeah. You guys want to come on up? I think its still too light out."
"Where's Fuller's boat?"
I pointed to Blade Runner in the slip across the walkway from Sabrina. The other diver slipped noiselessly away toward Ron's boat.
"What are you going to do with that gear?" I asked about the scuba equipment hanging on his back.
"Stayin' here , except for a couple of gear bags. I guess I'll go hang under the dock." He disappeared under the water. I looked around at all the crap floating there, and remembered some of the less than friendly animals that hung out in these waters and shuddered. 'Better you than me, Buddy,' I thought.
There was nothing to do bit wait. I puttered around the deck, checking this fitting and that fastener, just generally looked busy. It grew dark; mysteriously, all of the dock lights on our side of the marina were out. Imagine that! I dropped the boarding ladder and listened to it as it splashed into the water. Seal number 1, who I later learned went by the name of Buzz, silently levitated up out of the water and climbed into Sabrina's cockpit. He was now wearing some real natty Nautica swim trunks, and looked for all intents and purposes like a swimsuit model. He reached down and lifted some black rubber duffels into the cockpit. Seal 2 followed seconds later, looking like a model from a Polo shoot. This ugly mother-fucker's name was Scoop. I kid you not. I hadn't known people to do that to their kids since the 50s . . . name like that would scar anyone for life . . . But he looked normal enough. Never can tell, though.
The two Seals dropped down below and dried off, pulled some dry shirts out of their duffels. They slung shoulder holsters under their windbreakers, and tucked little automatic pistols in them. I heard Ron talking up on the dock, then hop on Sabrina's deck.
"Y'all ready to roll?" came the question I'd been dreading and his inevitable grin.
I slipped up to the forepeak. Elise was curled up, inert. I kissed her on the forehead and told her that I loved her. I heard a faint whispered 'I love you too' drift out from her withdrawn form. Then, 'Please be careful . . .' floated out into the air.
Scoop and Buzz weren't the only two Seals to have come into the marina that night. My two were joined by four others, plus the Three Amigos, and of course, me. I think I was there for decoration. I doubt there was a less intimidating person in the marina, so I was perfect cover to counter for all of the mega-he-men that had shown up. We did the drunk party-hardy gringo two-step though the gate, and no one looked up at us as we waltzed on out and jumped into a couple of forty year old Chevies, and off we bounded down the road into good 'old town' Havana.
The two Amigos and I went on into the fun zone of bars and hookers; the streets teemed with Brits and Canadians who obviously weren't too concerned about the looming tropical storm. We ducked into a couple of old-time roosts and tossed down a couple of rum somethings. You couldn't see across the room the cigar smoke was so thick.
Ron came in and spoke to the Amigos, they nodded and checked the time. Ron took off as quickly as he'd come. We sat around for about another half hour. We each hailed a taxi, not an easy thing to do I Havana, and took off toward the marina in separate cars. We puttered along the road back to the marina, and suddenly, about a hundred yards ahead of the lead taxi, Ron and the Seals and two women appeared. Our little caravan stopped and everybody got in, and off we went again, total time stopped less than 30 seconds. As we got to the marina and stopped we all piled out playing the drunken revelers. Ron got out and went to each taxi and said a few words to each, then patted the one nearest to me on the shoulder and told him "Good luck."
Thorough. That much was for certain.
I took up the rear of our little band and straggled in behind them, stopped to joke with the guard at the gate, give him a half full bottle of 151 rum and wished him Good luck, then tottered on my way after the group. Buzz and Scoop were just ahead of me, and Buzz was holding his partner up with great effort. Good acting, I thought, and jogged up to them.
"Give me a hand, would ya'?" Buzz said.
I got up on the other side of Scoop and put my arm around his waist; it was warm and moist, and I could smell that hemoglobin aroma that marks the presence of a lot of blood over all the rum and cheap cologne that was trailing behind the main part of the group about 10 yards ahead of us. We got him to Sabrina and helped him down below. I got down right after them, and lowered the salon table, made a big triple-wide berth to lay Scoop down on. Elise came aft and looked down at Scoop's belly; it was awash in blood and she gave a little gasp and asked what was needed.
Ron and another Seal, one that hadn't been on our little excursion, hopped on Sabrina and jumped down the companionway.
"Cover the windows, get some air circulating," Ron said. "Jim, why don't you go forward. This is Taylor, he's a Seal and a doc. We'll take it from here."
I was beginning to feel pretty damned useless.
Elise came back a few minutes later, and sat with me on the bunk.
"Not exactly how I wanted to spend our last night alone," I said. We sat together in silence and listened to the carefully orchestrated ballet that was unfolding just behind the stateroom door. Buzz must have been a paramedic, or whatever they called them in the military. They were quiet, but we could tell they were working fast, working against time.
I must have fallen asleep. I became aware of Ron shaking my shoulder, telling me to wake up. I must have bolted up because he told me to settle down, be quiet, and to come with him.
Elise was out in the galley, making coffee. Scoop was in the aft stateroom; there was an IV bottle hanging above his head. Buzz was stuffing blood soaked sterile paper surgical shields and wad after wad of bloody gauze pads into a trash bag.
"You got any ideas how to dispose of this stuff, Jimmy?"
I looked at the clock. About three in the morning.
"Small fire on the marina's private beach, take a girl and go down and burn the stuff, act like they're making out."
"You should have been a spook, Jimbo! Can you and Elise take care of that?"
I got some things to start a fire, a couple of blankets, and my last bottle of 151 rum to help the fire get going. Elise and I went up with the huge trashbag and slipped through the shadows down to the beach. The winds were really kicking up, and the waves were pounding the shore in endless procession, but it wasn't raining yet. There were a couple of mortar and stone fireplaces that had been built who knows when, and I got a small fire going in one of them.
"Tell me if you see the guards coming." I thought a fire on the beach in the middle of the night might be enough to get one of the notoriously lazy night watchmen off his can and come down to check it out. I started to toss some of the soiled papers into the fire, and the fire took off with gusto. Unfortunately, the smoke took on a sickly sweet smell, like some kind of weird BBQ was cooking away. Sure enough, the little jeep-like truck by the guard shack came to life.
"Here they come," Elise said.
I tied off the trash bag, thankful that it was black, and carried it over and put it under some heavy branches that lay on the sand near a stand of trees. . . the little jeep-thing had to cross about a quarter of a mile to get to us . . .
. . . I tossed some more wood on the fire, and anything that looked like it would burn, and stoked up the fire . . .
I'm sure the view the guards had was satisfying, something they'd tell their grandchildren about years from now. There in the firelight, glowing like some berserk orangutan in heat, my bare ass must have looked like an out of control oil well pumping away on top of Elise. I was between her bare vertically outstretched legs thrashing away like there was no tomorrow, and Elise, God bless her, was wailing away like she was being fucked to death by all of the linebackers from the Green Bay Packers. Anally. I mean I've never heard such filth as what was coming out of that girl's mouth
And I was lovin' it!
Pretty soon old Vesuvius was ready to roll, and Elise looked up at me knowingly, the fire reflecting off her face and dancing in her eyes, and our desire built like that fire. She took my cock and placed it on the opening of her vagina and without any preamble I drove it all the way in. I felt possessed, and exploded into a frenzy of pumping. Elise's legs wrapped around my thighs, and I felt her almost instantly shuddering through her first orgasm. Her back arched, sand flying everywhere, and her outstretched hands started slamming into the sand.
The verbal barrage started again, this time in earnest. Elise was streaming a non-stop river of extraordinarily vile incantations from her mouth; she bucked and twisted underneath me like a striking serpent, periodically kicking the backs of my thighs with her heels. I kept growing inside of her. It had been years since my penis had felt like this . . . it kept getting harder and thicker, then harder still, so hard that it hurt on the inside. I was going to explode!
All of a sudden Elise tossed me over on my back and climbed on top. She rode me harder still, her language became rougher, she came and screamed in ragged gasping breaths, and often screaming out in Spanish and French and English - simultaneously! In the fire she looked like some kind of sexually charged erotic demon . . . totally possessed.
I was totally in love with her.
I could feel the head of my cock inside of her running in to the end of her womb, and the sensation was driving us both wild. She took these impossibly long up-strokes, the walls of her vagina milking my cock as she climbed above me, rising over and through me, and then she slammed down as hard as she could, repeatedly, over and over, impaling herself, driving my cock deeper and deeper.
Then I held her hips down and pumped in furious staccato bursts; I felt my cockhead swelling like a cobras before it strikes, twitching and dancing - hoping for release. Elise could feel it, too. She watched my breathing, watched my eyes close, and as the moment drew near she hopped off of me, down between my legs, and jacked my cock savagely with both hands. She held her head about a foot above my cock as she jacked, he mouth wide open, her tongue searching the air for the scent of it's prey.
Then Mr Mt Saint Helens did his thing. All I could see were thunderstorms and howling winds in the mists that shot through my orgasm, lightning bolts of lust lighting up the insides of my eyes. I looked down in time to see big ropey blasts arcing up into her mouth. Her eyes and mouth were consumed with greedy lust, she darted to and fro nabbing little globules that shot up in the air in random bursts. Watching her only served to increase the strength of my contractions, and the last few bursts flew up with what felt like tremendous velocity.
She tilted her head back. In the firelight I could see her playing with the cum in her mouth with her tongue, swirling it, making little bubbles with it, reveling in it, in her total mastery of the essence within me.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the two security guards crouched behind a tree; I think they had enjoyed the show very much. Indeed, I'm pretty sure one of them had been playing a solo on the skin flute.
After the guards left, we burned off the rest of the medical waste and sat around in the blankets watching distant thunderstorms growing in the pre-dawn sky. I guessed the winds to be coming out of the northeast at about thirty knots. The center of the depression was drawing near. This storm was beginning to feel like a beast out there hunting me. I knew the feeling.
I wondered if the pressure was going to go lower, if this little beast was going to turn into a monster, turn into a hurricane.
As Elise and I returned to Sabrina several guys on boats started applauding - quietly. Whoa. Like burning medical waste by the beach made me some kind of hero! We jumped onto Sabrina, and Ron met us in the companionway.
"Way to go, sport! Wish I'd had a video of that. I could have made some real money selling that performance to some porn outfit."
I looked blankly at him. "What?"
Jeez, Sport, you were right there," he said pointing to a spot about 50 yards away where smoke rose from the little fireplace. "Everybody in the fuckin' marina was watching you two go at it, and those security guards. One of those pricks, you know, that fat one, hell, he musta jerked off five times!"
Poor Elise! I had no idea a human being could turn into a beet so quickly. She rolled her eyes and walked forward into the forepeak and shut the door.
"Fuckin-a, Sport, I've never seen anyone cum so much in my life. That ain't normal!"
"You could see that from here?!"
"Well, Sport. Binoculars helped!"
"And the horse you rode in on, Fuller," I said as I walked forward, following Elise's smoking vapor trail.
We slept until almost noon. In the raging humidity it felt like we were glued together, and I could hear a fairly strong wind whistling through the rigging. Sabrina was rocking noticeably now, as well.
I felt her hand reach over my waist, slip to my cock, and she rubbed it slowly. I turned to face her, but she pushed me back down on my back and slid up over my groin and placed my cock into her smooth, moist slit, and sat down on it slowly. She let it stand there in the warmth for a moment, then she started gripping it with her vaginal muscles. It was very smooth, very rhythmic, and very unmistakable: she was jacking my cock off with her vagina, and not moving her body at all! I was shocked! Never in my life had I heard of anyone doing this, except, of course, in Paris. She looked down in silent majesty, her eyes closed, a sly grin on her face; she was lost in her control of my desire.