The Marital Corporation Ch. 06

Peter counted seven bunks, including a tiny pilot berth in the galley. "I thought the ad said she slept eight," he said.

"She does. There's a quarter berth next to the engine." Peter had overlooked it.

Peter looked carefully at the overhead. Although it was an inch or two over six feet, a tall person would have to duck under the roof beams. "Does the deck leak?"

While Martha shook her head, Peter looked carefully for telltale stains on the ceiling and the overhead, but found nothing significant.

Together, they pulled up some hatches in the cabin sole. The space between the floors was utilized as dry stowage. Hal had stored his spare bedding in one of them. "I take it she doesn't leak much, either," Peter said. Martha shrugged.

The two sat facing one another in the galley dinette. "She looks pretty good, Martha," Peter said. "When was she last surveyed?" She shrugged again.

"Well, she'll have to be surveyed," Peter said firmly.

"It's your nickel; do as you like."

Peter shook his head. "That isn't the way it works, Martha. The survey is a joint effort." Remembering what Cap Bowker had said, he added, "A good survey, including her haulout, on a boat this size will cost at least $2,000.

"This is the way it's usually done: If, for any reason, after the survey is completed, we don't buy the boat, we pay all the survey expenses. That means you get a free survey to show your next buyer. But if we do buy the boat, then the survey expenses are deducted from the purchase price. In other words, in that case, you pay for the survey."

"Two thousand bucks is a lot of money," Martha protested.

"So is $125,000," Peter reminded her. "If this were a brokered deal, you'd be paying for the survey and a 10% commission on top of everything else. Nobody is going to fork over $125,000 without a good idea what they're buying."

Peter looked at his watch. Time was getting away from him. He had no idea what the rush hour traffic would be like in San Francisco, and it was already three o'clock. "When do you think Hal will be back? I don't want to miss my flight."

Martha shrugged. "I thought he'd be back long before now." She smiled briefly, again reminding Peter of someone he had known before. "Knowing Hal, it's just possible he's already celebrating."

"One last thing; I know about the Maine tax lien. Are there additional debts against the boat? Unpaid moorage, workman's liens; anything like that?"

She shook his head. "Not that I know of," she said.

Peter took out his checkbook, and wrote out a check for $1,000, payable to Hal Jensen. On the memorandum line, he wrote "60-day purchase option, Dancing Lady".

Peter handed the check to Martha. "What's this for?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm paying Hal $1,000 not to sell the boat to anyone else for 60 days," Peter said. "That thousand bucks is his to keep whether we ultimately buy the boat or not."

Martha was still dubious. "I'd much rather you'd give this to Hal yourself. I'm not sure I can explain all this to him."

Peter was seriously torn. He felt obligated to catch his flight back to Seattle, but on the other hand, Dancing Lady, was a once-in-a-lifetime find. If Hal listed her with a yacht broker, she'd be gone in the blink of an eye. Peter searched his memory, trying to visualize his calendar. He could think of nothing on his desk as important as getting an option on the boat.

"You're right," he told Martha. "I had better explain all this to him. Where does he hang out when he's in the mood to celebrate?"

"There's a string of bars down toward Ft. Baker. That's where I'd start looking."

"Will you come with me? Remember, I don't know what he looks like."

Martha bit her lip pensively as she stared at Peter. "OK, but you'll have to give me a little time to get ready."

Peter nodded. He stood, "I'll just get out of your way," he said. "I've got to make some calls, anyhow." He turned and climbed the companionway ladder to the cockpit. Sammy was sitting where her mother had sat while Peter was inspecting the boat's rig.

Peter nodded to her as he stepped out of the cockpit and went forward to sit on the cabin top. Then he called Marge and his office on his cell phone, explaining that he would would have to remain overnight in California. Then he called the airline, cancelling his reservation and making a new one for the 12:35 flight the next day.

"I'm ready if you are."

Startled, Peter turned around. The woman standing behind him bore little resemblance to the woman he had left down below scant minutes earlier. Martha was dressed in a sweater and a modest tweed skirt. The sweater was molded tightly to her body, and proudly outlined her breasts. He was immediately reminded of movie stars from an earlier era known as "sweater girls."

Something in Peter's mind clicked, perhaps because of his recollection of sweater girls."You have an uncanny resemblance to Myra Lawrence," he blurted, but you couldn't be .. ."

Martha smiled. "Why? Because she would be an old woman by now?"

Thoroughly flustered, Peter tried to think of something to say, but the words never came. Instead, he felt his face flush with embarrassment.

Seeing his discomfort, Martha added, "I'm not old enough to be your mother, Pete, but I am -- or was -- Myra Lawrence, and I think it's very sweet of you to remember me." She leaned forward and offered her mouth for a kiss.

"MOTHER!!"

Sammy was standing behind her mother, a disapproving look on her face. "Must you kiss every man you meet?"

Martha/Myra wheeled around and fixed her offspring with an angry glare. "I've told you this many times. When are you going to grow up? Even us old ladies like having good-looking men around!"

Sammy retreated to the cockpit. Martha looked helplessly at Peter. "I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't be. Your daughter is your business. I'm just flattered that you even have the time of day for me."

They found Hal in the third bar they visited, but not before Martha and Peter had an opportunity to get much better acquainted. The first bar they visited was full of noisy tourists. Leaning close so his mouth was only inches from her ear, Peter said,"Let's find a quiet corner and have a drink before we begin looking."

Martha nodded. She took Peter's hand and led him into the next room which was much quieter. "I think the waitress saw us come in here," Martha said. "Let's find a table and sit down."

Almost as soon as they sat, the waitress appeared and took their orders. Then Martha began, saying, "Let me tell you how a well known movie star came to be living aboard a beat-up old boat."

Peter shook his head, but Martha was insistant. "I guess the pattern is common enough -- first pills, then booze, a couple of bad marriages, and here I am. Hal's a derelict in his own way, too. I'm not entirely sure about the details, but I think he may have served some time for his part in a very bad auto accident."

Peter ordered a second round. Something in Martha's eyes inspired him to recite his own history. Then she countered with more intimate details, including the circumstances under which Sammy was conceived. "It was at a Hollywood party," she said. "There was a lot of coke and some other stuff going around, and somehow, I found myself in bed with at least three guys. I didn't know any of their names, but even if I did, I wouldn't know which one was Sammy's father."

Peter nodded sympathetically. Then he told her about Marge and Kenny. Somehow, as the conversation became increasingly intimate, Peter found that Martha's hand had crept across the table and that his hand was covering it.

Martha concluded her biography saying, "Now, I'm fucking Hal just to keep a roof over our heads and the wrinkles out of our bellies."

That was a good deal more information than Peter wanted or needed. He said, "Let's keep looking for Hal. That's what we're here for."

The second bar they visited was virtually deserted. When they entered the third bar, they walked in on a loud argument. Two men at a table near the entrance were shouting at each other. The other patrons were watching the escalating confrontation with keen interest.

Martha nudged Peter in the ribs. "The guy with his back to us is Hal."

Peter immediately foresaw several unpleasant outcomes to the ruckus. If the cops came, one or both men would likely wind up in the drunk tank. If the cops didn't come, there was a good chance of violence, in which case, Hal might end up in the hospital or jail or -- possibly even in the morgue.

Desperate to resolve the conflict, Peter took a deep breath and stepped forward, tapping Hal on the shoulder. "I'm Pete Baylis from Seattle," he said. "I'm here to look at your boat."

The argument immediately subsided to the apparent general disappointment of the crowd. Hal turned to Peter. "I din 'spect ta see you so soon," he said. The man was falling-down drunk.

Turning to Martha, Peter said, "Let's get him out of here. I'll help you get him back aboard the boat."

Martha nodded. Peter first went to the bar. "Does he owe a tab?" The barkeep shook his head. Then Peter and Martha got Hal to his feet and between them managed to carry and drag the man to the car. Almost literally, they poured him into the back seat.

Martha showed Peter how to drive down to the dock. Between them, they dragged the nearly comatose man aboard his boat and down into the main cabin. Martha stopped. "I think we'd better put him in here," she said. "If he gets sick, the mess will be easier to clean up."

She motioned toward the forward cabin. Sammy suddenly appeared in a lacy Baby Doll negligee. "Ug, why didn't you just leave him on deck?" She seemed oblivious that her thin garment revealed far more than it concealed, and when Peter saw her puffy areola and tiny breasts under her thin gown, he wondered how old she was.

Noting his interest, Martha smiled as she pushed the cabin door open. "Help me lift him up here," she said. Hal was a big man, but the three of them easily managed to roll Hal onto a bunk. Martha immediately slipped his boat slippers off.

Peter stood up. "I'd better get back to town and get a room," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"There's no need for that," Martha said. "You're practically a member of the family, now. Wouldn't you rather stay here with us?" She deliberately brushed her bosom against his chest. "There are plenty of beds right here." She paused, then added with a naughty smile, "Some might even have company in them."

Peter heard Sammy's disgusted snort, even as he took Martha in his arms and fastened his open mouth against hers. Their tongues met and caressed. Peter felt her wet mouth writhing under his, her lips nibbling his. He traced the outline of her lips, then tickled the corners of her generous mouth with the pointed tip of his tongue.

Martha pulled him backward to the passageway around the engine "room" and into the rear cabin. "Don't mind Sammy," she said. "She's older than she looks. It's just that I can't seem to get her interested in boys."

Pulling back the single blanket covering the bunk, she added, "I think you'll find this a lot more comfortable than any old motel bed," she said.

Peter watched, fascinated, as she crossed her arms, seizing the bottom of her sweater, and in a single fluid motion, lifted it off, over her head. Then she unbuttoned her skirt, and gracefully stepped out of it. "Hey. I'm way ahead of you," she said.

Peter was mesmerized. He knew Martha had to be in her 60s, yet she had the body of a slightly Rubenesque 30 year old. Her plump breasts were barely contained within her black bra, and her matching panties snugly covered her swelling hips and puffy mons. He quickly sat on a convenient bench and slipped out of his boat shoes, unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, and pulled his knit shirt off over his head. He knew he lacked Martha's grace, but he was mainly interested in getting naked. Martha had already removed her bra, and her heavy breasts swayed as she leaned forward to slip her elastic panties over her hips and down her thighs.

Peter's cock was already at half mast, as he stood and studied Martha's body. She flung her arms wide in a theatrical gesture. "Not bad for an old lady, eh?" Her breasts seemed alive as she moved her arms. Her nipples had drawn their areola into sharp points, betraying her sexual excitement. His gaze was drawn down her slightly rounded belly to a thick mat of dark hair covering her mons venus, and on down her toned thighs.

"I could never have imagined . . ."

She interrupted him. After inspecting his tumescent cock, which hung stiffly between his thighs, she said, "Come here and give a girl a kiss!"

Peter eagerly pulled her warm body against his and again fastened his mouth against hers. He felt her hand slide between their bodies and her cool fingers wrap around his cock. She stepped back so her knees were against the edge of the bunk. She sat down, pulling Peter down with her.

While she fondled his cock by playing with his foreskin, Peter lifted a breast, squeezing it slightly to test its resiliency, and while toying with her nipple, kissed her neck and shoulder. Martha suddenly shivered. "I'm going to come if you keep that up," she whispered.

She fell backwards on the bunk. Peter immediately sucked a nipple and as much of her breast as he could manage into his mouth. With his left hand, he began to explore the veiled mystery between her thighs.

Martha pushed on Peter's head. He released her nipple after scraping it between his teeth, and obediently began trailing a series of wet kisses down across her belly. Then he slipped off the bunk, and on his knees, parted her thighs. A faint glimmer of pink shown through the mass of protective curls. Peter parted those curls with his fingers, exposing a seam protected by rapidly darkening lips. He tasted those bits of flesh, rolling them between his lips.

He was rewarded with a soft moan. Next, he parted those lips exposing Martha's inner labia. He bathed her entire vulva, using his flattened tongue. Then he forced his tongue between her inner labia and into her vagina. This time, Martha's moan was much louder.

"I can't wait any longer," she said, sliding back on the bunk. She raised her knees, offering Peter a cradle. Peter quickly moved between her thighs, and again fastened his mouth over hers.

Without the slightest effort by either of them, his cock automatically found her vagina, and slid easily into her hot, welcoming belly. Peter was instantly transported to a better place, as raw animal instinct took over, and he began to hammer himself, thrust after heroic thrust into her hot, clasping cunt.

Peter lost all perception of time as his back, buttock and thigh muscles worked together in a primeval compulsion to plant his seed as deeply in her body as was humanly possible.

The familiar tongs on his kidneys began squeezing, and Peter drove himself deeper and deeper into Martha until his seed completed its familiar journey down his urethra and into his spasming cock.

Exhausted, he allowed his weight to fall full upon Martha, and when he breathing began to slow, he showered little kisses on her nose, eyelids, and cheeks. Then, still deeply embedded in her, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both on their sides. He continued petting and stroking her flushed face and brushing her hair back, while she stroked his cheek.

"Thank you sir," she said. "That was a mighty fine fuck! Now, if you don't mind, I need to go visit Sammy for a few moments."

Peter, remembering the Baby Doll negligee Sammy had worn earlier, said, "Why not invite her in here? There's plenty of room."

"I'm afraid you'd be shocked if she were to join us. Even Hal has a problem with her, but perhaps she'd like it. I'll see."

Martha slipped off the bunk and, cupping her hand between her legs, hurried out of the compartment. She returned almost immediately, followed by her daughter. "Sammy was hoping you'd invite her to join us."

Martha flopped on the bunk and as she had with Peter, raised her knees and spread them apart. Sammy, still wearing her thin negligee, crawled between her mothers legs and began licking the combined juices left by the lovers.

"Oh, that's it, that's it, maybe just a little higher?"

As experienced as he was, Peter was mildly shocked at this extreme example of incest. He reached down to stroke Sammy's hair, but Martha stopped him. "Don't," she said. "Sammy cares only for her mother's pussy -- isn't that right, dear?"

A sudden disturbing thought occurred to Peter. "If Hal sells us the boat, where will you two live?"

Martha was so involved with her daughter's expert tongue, that she had forgotten that Peter was on the same bed. She stiffened; her face contorted into a rictus grin, and a dark flush crossed her chest, neck and face. She exhaled in a explosive grunt. "That's enough dear. Mommy's getting a little sensitive."

Mother and daughter curled into a tight little ball. Peter, left on his own, drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, he formally met a sick and very hung-over Hal Jensen. He repeated much of what he had said to Martha, and offered Hal the check in payment for the option. He also outlined the terms of the deal where the survey was involved.

Hal was suspicious. "You gonna deduct this thousand from the purchase price, too?"

"Nope. This deal stands by itself. But remember, I'm not only paying you not to sell the boat out from under us, I'm also buying your cooperation with the yard schedule and the surveyor."

Jensen nodded his understanding. He folded the check and tucked it in his pocket. Then the men stood and formally shook hands. Peter said his goodbyes, and hurried across the dock to his car.

He stopped briefly in Sausalito, met Captain Bowker, and arranged for Dancing Lady's haulout and survey. Then he dashed for the Golden Gate bridge and his return flight to Seattle.

Friday afternoon went by in a blur of meetings, returned phone calls, and brief revisions. Peter dictated a summary of his brief inspection of Dancing Lady and the option agreement payment he had made. Peter tried to reach Gordon, but he was unavailable all day. He called the number Barney Lansing had given him, and reached a Mr. Ted Mining.

His response, when Peter identified himself and his reason for calling, was barely polite. But when Peter mentioned Lansing's name, Mining became more cordial, and before Peter hung up, he had received directions to Mining's home, and had made an appointment to meet him there at 7:30 Monday evening.

Peter went to the office on Saturday morning to clear away some of the embarrassing backlog of work that was beginning to accumulate on his desk.

Peter called Gordon's home number, and got the answering machine. He wondered absently if Anne was entertaining one of her `other interests' while he identified himself to the machine and asked Gordon to return his call after supper. Peter also dug out the notes he had made during the flight to San Francisco regarding his spontaneous invention of family corporations in Barney Lansing's office.

Peter wasn't sure how Miss Perkins would react to that information should it appear on her transcription tape, so he sat at her desk and typed a memo to the file based on those notes and some additional ideas that had occurred to him since his visit to Lansing's office. Then he locked up and went home.

to be continued