Tugboat Man and the Lost Continent

I knew that none of the denizens of Sherry's would take him up on his offer. Luxury yachts were definitely NOT their style. But the table full of manly-men seemed more than eager to accept Montero's invitation. Especially since it gave them continuing access to the daughter.

As you would expect, wild horses couldn't drag me over to THAT gathering. But my buddy Reg said, "We'd love to see your ship" and he started pulling on my arm. I was pulling back when he whispered to me, "You owe me mon." Reg just couldn't pass up the opportunity to sink his claws into a new revenue stream.

So I let him drag me over there. And he and I and Basil and a couple of the locals, plus the manly-men all trooped down to the Montero's yacht. It was berthed on the other side of the dock, twenty feet from my boat. But if the criterion was wealth and class the separation was infinite. Montero's yacht reeked of money. Mine reeked of diesel oil.

We walked up an actual gangplank and onto another world. The interior was a tasteful mix of wood, indirect lighting plush carpets and expensive furniture. It even had real art on the walls. The boat had been beaten up pretty badly in the storm. But the family quarters must have been battened down. Since there was no storm damage there.

There was a steward to greet us and take our drink order. I asked for a Pirate Republic. Reg ordered Johnny Walker Blue. I said, "what's that?" Reg just laughed and said, "It's a liquid hundred-dollar bill." I was thinking, "Who would spend that kind of money on alcohol?" That's when Montero's daughter glided over to join us.

I immediately began staring past her right shoulder. She actually turned to see who I was looking at. Then she got it. She said highly amused, "Does he use adult words, or is he just that special?"

Reg laughed and said, "I don't know what's gotten into him. If he weren't such a great skipper, YOU wouldn't be standing here. But beautiful women intimidate him to a point where he's speechless."

She took my face in both of her slim lovely hands and said emphatically, "Tugboat Man!!" I looked directly at her and she planted the hottest kiss imaginable on my flabbergasted lips.

At that point she looked astonished. It was like something had happened that she didn't expect. Then she went back to beautiful and self-possessed. She said, "Now that we've broken the ice, I'm Maria."

I was slightly glassy eyed. I mumbled something like, "I'm Tug. I'm sorry I'm such a putz but I'm a little overwhelmed by this. I don't socialize much."

She looked interested and said, "So what DO you do besides rescue fair maidens?" She was way beyond "fair." And from her body language I was certain that she wasn't a maiden.

I said, "I do things on the internet." Stupid -- I know -- but how else do you explain your life as a cyber-bandito?

Reg laughed again and said, "He does a lot more than that. I don't know what it is exactly. But he makes a pretty-penny doing it."

She looked interested and said, "Are you a black-hat, or a white-hat?" Now THAT was an astonishing question. How could she go there so quickly? This woman was smarter than she seemed.

I really didn't know where the practice of ransoming exploitable flaws fell on the scale of bad-guy, versus good-guy. I said, "More of a grey-hat actually."

It was Reg's turn to look puzzled. He said, "What are you two talking about?"

Maria laughed and put a flirty hand on Reg's shoulder. She said, "I was asking him how he made his living. Apparently he works in the nooks and crannies between legal and illegal."

Now THAT was a brilliant explanation. Reg totally got what she was talking about. Since he had spent his entire life doing the exact same thing -- just not virtually.

I was beginning to look at her with considerable interest. I said, "How do you know about this stuff?" She gave me an enigmatic smile with an incredible amount of promise and said, "A girl has to have a few of her own secrets Tugboat Man?"

I was about to ask her if she had studied computing in college when Hemingway junior joined our group. I was pretty sure that it wasn't to talk to ME.

I am much taller than average. Which is sometimes a physical advantage when the alpha-males come calling. But I am slim, not muscular. So this guy simply moved me out of the way in order to get face-to-face with Maria. I am totally non-aggressive so I let him do it,

He said, "Hi, I'm Jason but everybody calls me Jace. You might have heard of me. I used to play football. The boys and I are down here to catch a few trophy marlins. We're at the Bimini Big Game Club if you ever want to stop by for a little fun." The "fun" was not defined. And the guy had obviously chosen his residence based on its macho sounding name. Since there were much newer and more impressive places on the island.

Maria extended her hand and said in a silky voice, "Pleased to meet you Jace. Tug and I were just talking about what he does for a living. What do you do?"

Jace puffed up like a ruffed grouse and said, "Well I'm mainly living off of venture capital. I made a lot of money from my last contract with the Dolphins. And I invest it where it can do the most good" ... wait for it ... "For ME!!" Followed by uproarious laughter.

All I could think was, "What a total asshole." I decided that I would have to visit his investments somewhere along the line. And they might experience a little devaluation when I did. At that point Ol' Jace - don't call me Jason - grabbed Maria's bare arm and said, "Hey!! I want you to meet my friends."

There was a second when it looked like some kind of force passed between them and he let go of Maria's arm like he had gotten an electric shock. She said with irony in her voice, "I'd love to and glided away with him."

Reg and I were left standing there watching that delectable body sway in one direction as her long thick sun-tipped hair swayed in the other. I was not so-much interested in her unworldly sex-appeal as I was the fact that she knew things that a beautiful stranger like her shouldn't have known... And what was the story with the electric-eel trick?

Reg left me at that point. He went over to join the group around Montero. It was obvious that he was prospecting. I was now just standing there by myself, which I prefer to do I might add.

Montero was one very smooth customer. He was a man of middle height, perhaps five-ten. He had a darkly handsome Latino face, very cool and controlled. There was just a hint of grey at the temples of his perfectly groomed, thick black hair. Everything about him reeked of perfection from his sculptured hands to his slim muscular body. His immaculateness was almost not natural.

His wife, whose name I didn't know, was standing with him. You could see where Maria got her beauty. Except where Maria was athletic and flawlessly supple. Her mother was outrageously voluptuous.

It's a matter of proportion. The mother might have weighed twenty pounds more than her daughter, who was about 115 pounds of lithe beauty. But the way her weight was distributed it looked like the mother was all boobs, hips and very muscular ass. She was like the personification of an earth goddess.

I was by myself. So I did what I always do. I wandered out on deck simply to get away from everybody.

The deck was teak and the passage between cabin and rail was wider than most yachts. I looked around me and marveled. Seriously!!?? The thing had been wallowing in thirty foot breaking waves no more than four hours earlier. Yet there was no damage and there was absolutely nothing out of place. It was like the storm had ever occurred.

There was one other strange thing. Normally a ship like this is crewed by a captain and two or three deck hands. But this one had at least a half dozen that I could see, and that didn't count the stewards and cooks. Carlos Montero had to be a very rich man indeed.

I walked down the passageway and leaned on the rail outside of the cabins. The peace and quiet of the marina was soothing my jangled nerves. I am not social. And of course there was also the issue of that bizarre storm. It had me all riled up. So I was drinking in the quiet sounds of the harbor to restore my equilibrium.

I was about to go back inside to tell Reg that I was leaving. That was when I heard an obnoxious voice right behind me. GREAT!! I turned cautiously -- not wanting to deal with the asshole. But he wasn't there.

Then I heard him again. His voice was actually coming from the stateroom behind me. The porthole was wide open so I was - in effect - only ten feet away from him. And it sounded like he was not alone.

I heard him say in a wheedling voice, "Come on baby, you know you want Ol' Jace. No girl has EVER turned down THIS big cock." He sounded like he might actually be holding it out to be admired.

Then there was some muffled spluttering and a moan. It sounded like he had grabbed a woman and was passionately kissing her. That ended abruptly with a loud slap. Ol' Jace shouted, "WHAT THE FUCK BITCH!!???" A silky voice said with latent menace, "If you EVER touch me like that again I will kill you."

Ol' Jace was stupid enough to push things. He said angrily, "You don't say 'no' to ME bitch!!" Her smooth voice said, "You are a fool, now let me pass."

There was the sound of a struggle. That was followed by a ripping noise and she made a low "Uhhhh" of effort. Then the air got that electric tingling that I had last experienced in the storm. And something big hit the floor.

I tried to act unruffled as I sauntered back into the lounge. But I instinctively knew that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Had she actually killed him!!???

The situation was exactly as it had been when I stepped outside. The same people were gathered together in little knots. Except both Jace and Maria were missing. I grabbed a beer.

Maria appeared a couple of minutes later wearing a different shirt. She looked utterly serene. From her appearance I would have assumed that I had overheard somebody else. If I wasn't certain that her change of clothing had occurred because Jace had ripped the shirt she was originally wearing.

She was headed for her father. And she had pissed-off determination written all over her. So I stopped and backed off. But I DID linger, because I wanted to find out what was going on. She pulled her father aside and they had a little whispered conversation. Then he called one of the stewards over.

Both father and daughter stood and watched the entrance to the passageway into the staterooms. Finally, Ol' Jace emerged. Two stewards were supporting him. He had the blank look of somebody who had just had his bell emphatically rung.

The steward led Ol' Jace over to Maria and her father. I was standing behind the two of them as I heard Carlos say, "I would like you and your friends to leave immediately. You are no longer welcome."

Then he motioned to the two friends and said, "Please take this man back to wherever you came from."

They looked puzzled. Carlos looked threatening. They both shrugged, gathered up Ol' Jace and left. I never saw them again.

At that point I approached daddy and daughter. They were standing silently facing each other like they were engaged in some kind of telepathy. I said politely, "Thank you for inviting me on your yacht. It is very impressive and I hope that we see each other some other time. I am tied up right next to you and you are welcome to come over any time you wish."

Carlos flashed me a conspiratorial grin and said, "Once we get things settled over here I can guarantee that we will see a lot of you."

Maria said, "You're not leaving yet Tugboat Man." It was a command, not a question. She added, "We have to talk." Those four fateful words didn't bother me. Since she was so far out of my league that I could only WISH that here would EVER be a situation when we would talk about anything like THAT.

I said, "Can that wait until tomorrow? This is all very new for me and I am more than a little stressed."

I think that my underlying anxiety must have come through. Because she said, "Alright Tugboat Man. But I will expect you to have breakfast ready for me at 8:00 tomorrow. I am going to be dropping by. And we are going to discuss what's puzzling you."

Does she read minds as a sidelight???!!

~

The next morning dawned hot and sunny. I was whipping up a couple of vegetarian omelets when she appeared in the open cabin door.

She was wearing a pair of skin tight jeans, which did great things for her legs and butt. And her t-shirt was a little tighter than last night. She has superb breasts. And for a change she was showcasing them. Her glorious sun tipped hair was secured in a sleek pony tail.

She was so perfect that she almost set off one of my fits of catatonic bashfulness. She sat down and folded her legs under her. Only women can do something like that without falling off the couch.

I was studiously ignoring her, plating the omelets and pouring the orange-juice. Not a word had been said since she arrived.

I know I am a disagreeable asshole. But I never claimed to be anything else. I am super ill-at-ease around other people. I never know what to say. And when I open my mouth I generally stick my foot in it. Worse I have difficulty even feigning interest in the banal things that people say. That's why I don't inflict myself on others.

Now I was alone with a woman who was so beautiful that she was actually causing me to have a panic attack. My emotions were all over the place. On the one hand I could appreciate her beauty and her immense sex appeal. I'm a guy after all. But I was also aware that she belonged on the cover of Sports Illustrated cavorting with the other super-models. She most definitely did NOT belong in a sixty-year-old tugboat with a nerd like me. I knew that heartbreak was somewhere in my future and I was trying to avoid that.

All of the time I was ruminating Maria was playing with Bastet. That in itself was astonishing, since Bastet ALWAYS hides when anybody else is on board. But Bastet was acting like a sweet little kitty-cat with Maria, rubbing herself all over her legs and purring loudly. I had never heard my little killing machine make any sound other than a hiss.

Maria was holding Bastet up, with the cat draped down between her two hands. She was staring directly at her. It was almost like they were conversing with each other. The uncanny thing was that their eyes were the same fiery amber color. Which was actually very appropriate. Maria was at least as mysterious and inscrutable and perhaps as dangerous as my cat.

I said in my most cheerful tones, "Breakfast's ready." And I sat down at my little table in the galley. I was really trying to act as sociable as I could. That was partly because I wanted to appear less dork-like. But it was also because I wanted to hear her story.

Maria dropped Bastet who proceeded to follow her over to the table like a dog. She sat down in front of me and regarded me with a look that was along the lines of, "What am I going to DO with you?" Growing up my mom frequently gave me the exact same look.

No guy is as complicated as the shallowest woman. So I have never been comfortable around the estrogen bearing species. The only time I ever was sympatico with one of them was during sex. I am not bad looking. And the women in my nerd-herd were as awkward and introverted as I was. So, I had a lot of sex during my twenties. But we always shared one common goal -- which was to get each other off and get back to what we were doing.

Whereas the goddess sitting at my breakfast table was practically an alien. Obviously, I had seen women like her in the media. But I had never been face-to-face with one who actually wanted to communicate with me.

I was desperately trying to think of something witty to say. When she said nonchalantly, "I sensed your presence while I was dealing with that fool last night. Where were you?"

That raised about a million new questions. But I answered as simply as I could, "Outside the stateroom leaning on the rail." She was obviously going somewhere with this. She said, "So you heard everything that happened?" I said, "I did." She said, "What did you think about it?"

I said, "What's there to think about? You handled it." I knew that she wanted me to ask how a 115-pound woman could absolutely level somebody a half foot taller and over a hundred pounds heavier. But I am way too unsophisticated to get into speculations about events like that. Particularly, with a woman as exceptional as Maria. She was obviously very intelligent and absolutely gorgeous. And I was pretty sure that she had developed vigorous methods for dealing with creeps.

My lack of interest seemed to satisfy her because she brightened and said, "We're going to be in port a couple more days while the engines are repaired. I was wondering if you would show me the island?"

I would normally have said "no" since beautiful women make me nervous. But I was starting to believe that I might be able to talk to this one. And I was thinking that it might be a learning experience if I could sustain a conversation.

So I said, "Sure - When do you want to leave?" She looked at me with those fierce amber eyes and said, "Now would be a good time."

Eight months ago I would have questioned your sanity -- right after I asked you what you were smoking - if you had told me that I would be motoring along the eastern shore of North Bimini in a hundred-foot tugboat, talking comfortably with an absolutely stunning super-model.

But Maria had completely won me over. I trusted her and I wasn't afraid of her. I believed that she was a decent human being; one who would NOT judge me, or go out of her way to hurt me. Of course she was also the person she was and I knew that I was playing with fire.

I was pointing out the sights as we coasted along, including the Bimini Big Game Club. She smiled. I knew she was thinking the same thing, "I wonder how Ol' Jace is feeling today?"

We ran up past Bailey Town to the general vicinity of the Hilton and then turned east and passed between Alec Cay and the eastern tip of the Bay.

I was planning on doing a complete circuit of North Bimini because there were a couple of points of interest that I wanted to show her.

North Bimini looks like an exaggerated letter "C" and mangrove swamps pretty much dominate the top. There is an inlet entrance to the swamp about two thirds of the way up. I throttled back and gestured toward it.

I said, "The legendary Fountain of Youth is supposed to be back in there somewhere. At least Ponce de Leone thought so. He visited here first. That was before he went on to St. Augustine over on the mainland.

The natives tell me that there is a freshwater spring that is full of all sorts of healing stuff. I've never been there. So maybe we can make the journey some other day." She looked wistful, like she was revisiting old times and said softly, "Yes --it IS back there."

Where did THAT come from?

I circled the northern tip of the island and we coasted back toward civilization. I stopped the tug just before we got to the Tree House Resort and pointed off to the west. I said, "About five miles in that direction is part of the Lost City of Atlantis. It's called the Atlantis Wall. It's under 15 feet of water if you want to go out and snorkel over it." She literally gasped and said with little-girl eagerness, "Could we?"

As we were making our way out to the dive location. I said, "The legend is that Bimini is one of the mountain tops of the sunken continent that Atlantis was once located on."

I looked at her and she seemed to be nodding in agreement -- that was odd?

I added, "Andros Island to our southwest is another one of those. They supposedly found the ruins of a classical temple underwater near there. It's ludicrous of course. But it's fascinating to imagine isn't it."