The Kid From Pemaquid

I held my breath as he swam slowly forward, his legs extended under the water. He didn't rush, didn't lunge for the shore, didn't look nervous; he just let the ocean carry him smoothly toward me, and before I knew it he was scrabbling up the face of the little cliff I stood above, his hands and bare toes finding holds with ease. "You okay?" I asked uncertainly, stepping back a bit.

"This island," he announced, topping out with his wet hair curtaining his eyes, "is absolutely fucking covered in bird poop." I watched as he hoisted himself up like a rock climber, arms braced while he curled his long legs underneath him and crouched at my feet, his fading shorts dripping. He tipped his head slowly up to me, a long-fingered hand sweeping his hair out of his face. "Hi there."

"Jesus," I blurted, "where the hell did you come from?"

"Well, there's this boat out there behind me," he laughed, unfolding his legs, "and I sort of came from there." He rose, taller than me by a full head, and as I stood there before him wondering what the fuck to say, I saw his eyes roam down to my chest. "Who are you?"

Too late I realized I was still in nothing but my sports bra, my cleavage revealed to the afternoon breeze... and his eyes. Fuck. "I'm Kaylen. I'm with the Puffin Project over on Eastern Egg Rock."

"This isn't Eastern Egg Rock," he pointed out, smiling again as his eyes rose back to mine; he seemed happy with my cleavage, anyway, but that wasn't a new experience for me. "This is Edgar's Ledge."

"Well. Then in that case, I'm Kaylen, with the Puffin Project right here on Edgar's Ledge." I crossed my arms under my tits and smiled, but I'm sure whatever effect I was going for was spoiled when a fucking guillemot chose to drop a shit on my arm and shoulder. After a week on the Rock, though, I barely noticed anymore. "Who are you?" I asked again.

His eyes crinkled in laughter as he looked at the white dropping oozing down my arm, but whatever he was going to say was nipped in the bud when his hair took a direct hit from a gull. "Fuck.

"Yeah. There's a lot of birdshit here," I shrugged helpfully. I was grateful for my sunglasses, which let me ogle him from his strong neck all the way down to where a wisp of dark, curly hair sprouted up out from behind the fly of his shorts. He was nicely built. Not muscular, like a gym freak or something, but lithe and strong. Athletic. I wanted to touch him, until another shit smacked into his left chest. "See?"

"Yeah," he frowned, looking down at himself. "Like, do you have a hat or something?"

I chuckled and waved at him to follow me as I spun back toward the flagpole. "I don't know if you're really supposed to be here. What's your name?" It was the third time I'd asked.

"Paul," he shrugged, no doubt looking at my butt. "Paul Pirero."

"Okay, Paul Pirero," I smiled, feeling my hips sway a bit as I walked. Why not give the guy a show? "You're really not allowed here. Are you a fisherman?"

He laughed. He seemed to do that a lot. "I'm alone," he pointed out, as if that was supposed to mean something. He must have read the confusion in the glance I gave him as I twisted my neck around. "I'd need a captain's license to fish," he explained, "and I'm nowhere near old enough for that shit."

"Oh," I shrugged, reaching the flagpole, "but you're alone? So, you're old enough to take that boat out here in the middle of fucking nowhere?"

He was still smiling when I grabbed my binoculars and turned around, only to find his eyes rising again. Yes, indeed, he'd been looking at my butt. "I'm just helping my dad out," he shrugged. I forced myself not to try to look for a package inside his wet shorts. "I'm running some shit to whoever owns Allen Island."

"Someone owns Allen Island?" I wasn't sure what to do with this guy, but I was pretty certain I should at least call Maggie on the walkie-talkie and tell her there was a civilian here.

"I dunno." He yawned and stretched high, his long body flexing, so of course I glanced down. Yes. He definitely had a penis, I noted, lumping the soaked trunks. I made myself look back up. "My dad loaded me up with a bunch of stuff and told me to run it out there. The people on Allen pay him to help out with mail and food and shit, but he's got a charter today. So he sent me instead." He laughed. "And then the piece of shit boat conked out. Do you have a radio? I need a new battery."

"I have a little radio," I nodded, "but it's, like, for official stuff. Emergencies."

He tousled his wet hair and grinned. "What do you call this, Kaylee? A normal occurrence, or an emergency?"

"Kaylen."

"Yeah, Kaylen."

I hesitated. "It's just a little Motorola. It won't reach the mainland. You don't have a radio on your boat?"

His lazy smile made me feel like a rube. "Radios run on batteries, Kaylen."

"Fuck."

"So. Like, it's not all that important: just a bunch of wine and, you know, expensive food? But I do need to get it out there to the island." He made a show of glancing around. "Obviously, I'd never want to distract you from the super-important work you're doing here."

"Be nice," I scowled. "I'm the one who's supposed to be here. You just... showed up."

His smile did not go away. "Yep. I did." We stood that way for a few seconds, one of those moments where you're not really sure what to say next, but you kind of want to make the conversation move in a certain direction? Like, toward a flirt? I know I felt it, and I thought he did too. He was staring at my boobs again. I shook my head.

"Dude, I just don't know if I can do anything for you," I began, but the decision was made for me all of a sudden as my radio squelched up in my tent. I heard a low, urgent voice, and even though I couldn't make out what it said, it had to be Maggie. Of course: she'd be able to see Paul's boat from the roof of the shack on Eastern Egg Rock! I blinked. "That's my boss."

"Yeah?" He followed me the few steps up to the tent platform, where my rainfly already had four or five new shit spots on it. "Can she help?"

"We're not a messenger service," I tutted, ducking down to crawl into my tent. "We're doing real work out here."

He crouched to peer inside, catching my shirt balled up in the corner. "Yeah. Looks like." I hoped it still didn't smell like pussy, but it was too late as I dived into the far corner and sat on the edge of my pad. "Can I come in, at least? These birds are fucking murder."

"You're kidding me. There's no room." It had been sold to me as a two-person tent, but anyone who's ever camped before knows that mostly just means it's a one-person tent with a little extra space. I sat cross-legged, looking up at him, the radio in my hand. I winced as a guillemot made another deposit on my rainfly. "I guess so," I grumbled, "but don't crowd me."

Fat chance of that. But he was not clumsy, so as he got into my tent he didn't shake it or brush the sides or anything. I was very much aware that he wasn't wearing very much as he sat there with his arms around his knees, watching me patiently as I raised to walkie-talkie to my lips. "Maggie? This is Kaylen on Edgar's Ledge?" I'd always been tentative on the radio. Too many people listening.

She came back at once. "What's that boat over there near you, over?"

I glanced at Paul. "It's a kid taking some supplies over to Allen's Island. He's got some kind of mechanical problem." He smiled at kid.

"So he's anchored? Over?"

"Yes he is. On the, uh, western side."

"Yes, I can see he's on the western side. Look, have you talked to him, over?"

I rested both elbows on my knees, feeling my lower back stretch. "Yes. The boat's really close. Over?"

"Okay. If he's having an emergency, like no propulsion or anything, then he's fine to be there, but he can't come onto the island. Like, at all. Over."

"Oh." My eyes shot up to his, only to find them rolling. "He has to stay on his boat?"

"You can shout back and forth, but shouldn't he have someone coming to help him fix the boat? Or does he need us to call someone? Over."

I didn't press the button to send a reply, instead looking speculatively at Paul. He just stared back, still with that smile of his. "I can communicate with him. Over."

"Okay. Find out what he needs." The radio paused, static rippling gently from the speaker. "It's a guy, right? Just one? Over?"

"Yes."

"Yeah." Maggie sounded surly. "The last thing we need is a female employee and a strange guy alone on Edgar's Ledge. Or on a boat off Edgar's Ledge." I felt my mouth fall open into a sudden grin. What was she implying?

On a whim, I thumbed the button. "He doesn't seem all that strange, over." He chuckled softly once I stopped transmitting.

"Kind of you," he nodded.

"You know what I mean," Maggie snapped, her irritation clearly audible over the radio. We kept staring at each other, our grins growing. "Rumors. I don't want anyone thinking you're over there fooling around with some rando in a boat. Over."

"'Fooling around?'" he laughed. "What is she, some kind of a boomer or something?"

I stuck my tongue out. "No. She's like thirty. She's almost a PhD. Be nice. She's the one who's going to get you a new battery." I keyed the radio. "Uh. Roger. Out?"

"No, not out." Maggie was much more experienced at radios than me. I heard a sound, like she was riffling through the policy binder in the shack. "Look, I need his name, age, address, and phone number for the report. Then I'll call the boss in Bremen and have him reach someone who can help him out. Do you know what he needs, over?"

My pussy, came the immediate thought, but I stowed that shit. "Um. I'll run down and yell across at him, I guess."

"Okay. Out."

His eyes were crinkled in mirth when I dropped the walkie-talkie. "Yes. By all fucking means. Yell across at me."

"She can see your boat, but she can't see my tent," I shrugged. "But, if anyone asks, you were never in this tent, man."

"I get that." He was looking at my chest again, which was fair, because I was looking at his. "Like, there's never more than one person on this rock? Right?"

"That's the idea." I brushed my hair back. "It can't support one person, let alone two. Like Egg Rock: everything gets rowed on and off." I yawned and thought about my vanished masturbation session. "These are not hospitable places."

He swung his legs sideways so that he could lean back on his elbows. I tried not to look at the trail of hair curling from his shorts. "So this is the first time ever that there have ever been two people on Edgar's Ledge," he nodded. "We're making history."

I shrugged. "Whatever." I'd pulled out my notebook, eager to get Maggie off my back. "Name. Age. All that shit."

"I told you my name." I stared at him until he smirked. "Paul Pirero. Age 19. 864 Memorial Park Rd, Pemaquid Bay, Maine." He watched me write. His accent drilled into my brain. "She'll need to call my dad and tell him to bring a new battery. He'll know what kind. We've had this problem before." He looked up, frowning. "The wine is probably going to lose its chill, but the rest of what I brought should still be fine for delivery."

"Will your dad need to know that?"

He shrugged. "Probably not."

"Well then I don't care."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow and scratched at his armpit. "Because I was thinking I'd swim back out there and have a little early supper? It's really good wine, apparently."

Instantly, my mouth started watering. Eastern Egg had a propane fridge, but it had no room for expensive wine. Just lukewarm Coke. Over two weeks I'd been out here on a steady diet of bruised bananas, ramen, and occasional fresh stuff brought out with the mail once a week. I licked my lips. "Good wine?"

He nodded. "We'll need to refund the money for it, too, so... yeah." He flicked a glance at my radio. "Be a shame for all that wine to go to waste, and I can't drink it all myself. Too bad your boss says I'm not allowed to leave my boat."

"Right?" I felt my excitement growing. "Who knows what kinds of shenanigans I might get up to with a strange guy. Alone. On Edgar's Ledge." We both smiled slowly. "A strange guy who tempts me with fancy wine."

He glanced at my walkie-talkie again. "You going to call in my information?"

"In a second." I winked, our conspiracy growing. "Remember, I had to make my way down to the shelf, get your attention, and carry on a shouted conversation across the water. That takes time."

"Good thinking."

I nodded, eyeing him. Possibilities were starting to crowd into my head, fueled by the wisp of hair under his belly button and my earlier interrupted self-pleasure festival. I'd been looking forward to that kind of alone time ever since the schedule had come out for the Ledge, but now I was wondering whether something better might be in the offing. Part of it depended on just how much of a slut I felt like being, but with a guy like this?

Might not be so difficult.

"So," I began, probing, "you're nineteen, huh?"

"Yep." He shifted abruptly, scooting his ass sideways on my air pad, his legs crooked at the knee. "Been driving that stupid boat since I was like twelve, but I've got to say, I've never had to come ashore on one of these fucked-up little island thingies. I never knew there were any people on them, until I saw your tent."

"Yeah?" I arched my back. I hoped it was a little bit subtle, at least. I was starting to feel stirrings between my legs, or maybe they'd never really gone away from before. "Did you use binoculars, Paul?"

He looked inscrutably over at me. "Of course."

I thought about the mosquito netting on the sides of the tent, my sides unzipped to let the air flow through. Shielding nothing at all from, say, a kid in a drifting boat with binos. "Did you see me in here?"

He raised his arms and laced his hands behind his head, the picture of uncaring summer youth. The hair under his arms still glistened with seawater. "I could tell there was someone in here," he explained slowly, his accent sharpening, "but I couldn't really see what you were up to." He rolled his eyes sideways to study my face. "When I hit the horn, though, I could see you moving around a lot."

"It scared the shit out of me," I admitted readily.

He nodded, then made an elaborate show of unconcern. "Just, you know, it looked like you were getting dressed or something. But, of course, like I say, I couldn't really see."

I smiled slowly. That little sneak. "You're a pervert, Paul," I told him quietly, "a peeping Tom."

"Nah." He stretched his abs, his body arching. "I'm just a kid from Pemaquid. You going to call your boss to get my dad, or what?"

"You going to take a swim and get me some wine, or what?" Watching his eyes, and still thinking with my pussy, I prodded his ribcage with my toe.

"Come down there in about ten minutes," he said after a pause. "I don't know how I'll get the bag up from out of the water, but maybe you can figure something out, being this big science researcher and all that shit."

"Swim around to the other side of the Ledge, by the flagpole," I suggested. "You can just walk ashore."

"See?" He smiled, then swept nimbly to his feet in a sudden explosion of lean muscle. "You're the smart one." It came out as smaht, like on a bad TV comedy sketch about Boston or some shit.

"There's an R in smart," I called after him, smiling, but he was already gone.

* * *

I sat in the birdshit at the top of the little shelf that overlooked the landing, my mind in a swirl. Just offshore, I could see my new buddy Paul sidestroking around through the lazy surf, dragging a hardy-looking dry bag that looked like it had seen many years of service on the family's old boat. I was tingling in my brain and my pussy, the kid sending strong sexual signals that I figured I'd have caught even if I wasn't horny.

Or was he? Could he just be some kind of nice dude with a suave manner?

Either way, I knew, I had some decisions to make. I wasn't really in danger of losing my job: Maggie would be anxious until she saw his boat leave, but she wasn't about to row all the way over here to investigate with evening coming on, and the tide like it was. So anything Paul did here would probably go completely unnoticed by anyone but the damn guillemots. And me. Which again made me wonder just how much of a slut I wanted to be.

All my friends back home would have laughed at the way I was agonizing over this. In my group, I was known as the wild one, a girl who'd spread her legs for anything and anyone. I wasn't sure why this should be any different, except that I usually went much older instead of slightly younger.

He was pulling for the landing now, though, so it wasn't like I had all day to decide. He paused, treading water, studying the way the water spun along the tiny rock shelf, then squinting into the water to see if he could figure out where to put his feet. I waved. "Come on. I'm thirsty!" I shouted.

"Yeah," he called back in that annoying accent, "quit your bitchin' and wait." And in that moment my mind cleared.

Would I put out for expensive wine? Yes. Yes, I apparently would. I was sure he could see my broad grin as he made his way to the landing, probing with his feet until he rose abruptly out of the water some six or seven feet from where I sat with my feet dangling over the surf. I hopped up onto the rock above him. "Want a towel?"

He wiped seawater out of his face and hair. "You got one?"

"No."

"Well then, thanks but no thanks." He held up the dry bag. "I brought a change of clothes this time."

I laughed. "For the birds to shit on?"

He shrugged and glanced up at the sky. "Worse things have happened." He sloshed up out of the water. "Just a shirt and some underwear. I don't have another pair of shorts."

"Wow," I snickered as I joined him on the short walk to my tent, "like you're going to lounge around all evening in your boxers or something? That's classy."

He gave a pointed look at my bra. "I can't help but notice you're not wearing a shirt, Kaylen."

"I never claimed to be a classy girl, Paul." I stepped over a crack in the rock. "My boss is calling your dad. She says she'll radio back when she hears anything."

"Yeah," Paul shrugged, "he won't get here anytime soon. Even if he drops everything, gets the spare battery, and heads straight for the marina, it'll be hours before he gets here."

I looked at the sinking sun. "Hours."

He nodded. "Ayup." We turned toward the tent. "When's your boss coming to pick you up?"

"Noonish tomorrow." I took a deep breath and looked up at him. "But that's okay. You spent the night on your boat."

"I'm not going swimming again."

"No. You're not." I pulled my shades down and winked at him, in full flirt mode. "And I'd never make a guest sleep out in the birdshit. You should change before you come in, though," I pointed out. "You're all wet."

"Yeah." He sat on the edge of the tent platform and dripped awhile. "I might just sit here and air-dry."

"You'll get cold, probably, with the wind," I pointed out. I wondered whether he could see my nipples yet. I was starting to want him very badly now that my mind was made up. I watched the water trail from the hollows behind his collarbones, then run down his smooth chest. I held my breath. "Good thing I have a sleeping bag."

His eyes ran slowly, so slowly, up my jeans, along my bare stomach, and over my tits. I could read his mind. "That's a very good thing," he agreed. "Just one though, huh?"

"I'll let you borrow it to warm up," I explained, "while I drink your fancy wine." We laughed. "Just don't fart in it."

"No promises," he smiled. He nodded toward the bag. "You should unpack that before it gets shit on."

"Aye aye, captain," I mocked, ducking down into my tent. My blood was up now, my body all tingly. I'm a woman who loves new, unexpected things, and this was shaping up to be one of my newest and least expected ever. His dry sack had a pair of buckles and a sturdy Velcro strip holding it closed, and as I worked at it I peeked out the side of the tent at his wet, sleek back, his spine humping it like the Loch Ness Monster in that one picture, and I got a little thrill in my pants as I realized he'd let my run my fingers down that spine. I got the bag open and dumped the contents on my air pad: wadded clothes, a bottle of wine, a Swiss army knife, and something wrapped in wax paper. "Nice undies," I crooned, picking up a pair of boxers printed with big cartoony enchiladas? Burritos? It was hard to tell.