Under the Knife Ch. 02

"Of course, I'd love to and I do have a little experience, though it's a while since I did my Day Skipper course," Hannah replied, sitting up in excitement.

"Okay. I normally keep her on Samui or up on the mainland, but she's moored round the corner at the moment. We can be there in ten minutes. Come on, let's go. You'll be fine as you are, unless you'd like to pick up anything else?"

* * * *

The inflatable dinghy skipped across the placid waves in the bay and spray splashed them both, washing the sand from their feet and giving Hannah a wet bum. Not that it mattered, the sun was already high and clouds were making leisurely progress in a southerly breeze.

Charlie steered in a curve, bringing them up to the ladder at the stern of the boat. He held the bobbing dinghy close to let Hannah scramble aboard to secure the painter on the yacht. He couldn't avoid seeing her shapely ass. Charlie passed up bags of supplies for the day, and then joined her in the cockpit.

He'd loaned Hannah a long sleeve shirt for the sun but her long legs were bare and now flecked with seawater.

"There's water in the tank if you want to rinse, or you'll get an itchy bum. Let me past and I'll unlock and get some power on for the pump."

"That's a point, Charlie. I'm out of practise with warm water problems. It'll be angry plankton or is it dodgy outflow from the island?" Hannah asked, twisting herself to try and look at her bottom.

"Here you go," he said, emerging from the saloon and handing her the hose. "You're right, it might be a local thing. I'll use it after you."

Hannah took the hose and poked the end down her bikini bottom. Since Charlie was watching, she made a play of letting the water spill around the fabric.

"Look, I wet myself, Charlie," she snickered, then handed him the hose.

Charlie simply rolled his eyes and rinsed his legs, making swirling patterns in the dark hair of his legs.

"Can I make myself useful, skipper? Just tell me what you need done."

* * * *

Once underway, they spent a couple of hours enjoying a fair wind under full-bellied sails that were a joy to them both. Charlie was happy to leave the helming to Hannah while he acted as crew, responding to her commands to swap tacks and trim the sails. He finally decided they should find an anchorage for the evening and knew just the spot.

They dropped the sails as they approached the bay, moving from the boisterous ocean waves where the bow crunched white through dark blue to a lighter blue of calm. Rokos transformed from excited dog, tugging on the lead to a graceful lady, dragging a train of shimmering bubbles under the press of the beating engine.

Charlie knew the bay and took the helm, studying the landmarks and water depth to find a safe spot.

Hannah sat to one side, resting her chin on her hand contentedly and watched his quiet concentration and the dappled reflections that played across his face. She wondered what marks life had made on him even though he confessed to have had luck and an easy ride. His open-minded curiosity didn't match her expectation of a loud city banker snorting coke.

Hannah took her cues from media that was seldom complimentary about Oxbridge sharks and their cut throat culture of excess. She didn't realise she was staring until he interrupted her thoughts.

"I feel I'm being scrutinised, Hannah." His voice as calm as the sea as he glanced about attentively.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but you're right -- I was studying you. You're a bit of a puzzle to me."

"How so? What you see is what you get, girl. Scratch my paintwork and you'll find a dark void of not very much," he replied nonchalantly.

"Oh pish!" she snorted. "I hope you're not begging compliments. You'll need to try harder."

"Okay. We're about eight meters of water here, so how much anchor chain, my lovely day skipper?"

"Twenty four, plus some extra for luck," Hannah returned the answer without moving.

"Lets say thirty. Nice round number."

The anchor kissed the silky surface and the raucous chain rattled excitedly behind it into the water. Hannah tightened the knot of her sarong and climbed onto the deck to complete their manoeuvre. Charlie smiled at the peach of her bottom her move offered him.

He stretched his back happily, content in the knowledge he would have sex again that evening, perhaps in the morning too. There was wine in the cooler, fresh fish for supper and a smart young thing to bless his day.

'Life is very good to me', he reflected. He waved an acknowledgement back to Hannah and relished the welcome silence when he turned off the plodding engine.

She made her way back to him, swaying gracefully past the ropes and shrouds as though she did it every day of her life. Hannah jumped the last step down and reached out to him.

"Kiss please, skipper." She smiled, wrapping her bare arms round his neck.

He noticed a faint dryness on her lips and would offer her some salve for the sun but her lips were now on his, soft and yielding. Just a hint of salt on her tongue that teased his to follow deeper, like a fledging demanding food.

Charlie responded, taking a full grip of her bottom, pulling her into him and hungrily returned her kiss.

'I could bounce pounds coins off her bum,' he mused as her kneaded the firm flesh in his hands. He soaked up the moment of her embrace, the intimate softness of her skin, the flex of her lithe body against his. He smoothed his hands up from the thin fabric into the scoop of her waist, one hand resting in the small of her back, the other under the strap of her top.

"The sun's almost down, why not take your top off?" he ventured when their kiss parted.

"Because you're on supper duty, I'm hungry and I'd only distract you. Men can't multitask," she smirked, tilting her head and plucking at the hairs on his chest.

"Yeah, fair point. I'm hungry too. Keep your bloody top on then and lets see about food. Deal?"

"Fives," Hannah grinned offering up her palm.

Acting goofy Charlie licked her hand instead, then clambered past her to the saloon chuckling to himself, leaving her complaining "Urgh! Charlie!"

Hannah followed him below, wiping the spit from her hand on her bottom.

"Is there enough water for a shower Charlie?" Hannah asked, waving a bottle of shower gel towards him with a hopeful smile.

"Check the gauge over there, honey. One of the tanks should be full, so go for it. There should be a little hot water after running the engine.

Hannah slipped off her bikini top and stepped into the cupboard-sized bathroom. Without much thought she untied her sarong and wriggled the bottoms down her legs. As she looked up she caught a reflection in the full length mirror she didn't recognise.

It had been years since she transitioned but occasionally a hidden lingering memory would spring into her consciousness. In those instants she'd see her past and present in one, both boy and woman as a stranger watching her. She recognised the once familiar feeling of dysphoria and its dragging panic in her stomach.

These days she stood on the other side of her transition and could reason that this was simply the memory of a ghost. He never was a real person, not really, not when he lived a lie, but when she did see him, he was often sad and tearful.

Hannah wore a mask for the world to hide her autism, but to her, masking and dysphoria were bedfellows. She had never stimmed, nor rocked herself when her environment overwhelmed her, but she understood why other people did. She'd had to learn she must look people in the eye to assure them she was attentive, but it was a continual performance that demanded effort.

She could crack a joke that would make everyone roll in laughter, but another time say something that would silence the room. Sometimes her friends told her she was talking too loud so she'd said nothing instead. It avoided embarrassment but it inevitably pushed her deeper into isolation.

Pretending to be a boy had been a mask once. Having a boy's body in world that insisted she wasn't really a girl. It forced her to wear that mask to get through each day. Pretending to be a boy, for survival.

She closed her eyes as the thoughts whirled as a storm in her head. She thought she heard a scream.

"Hannah? Hannah love, are you okay?" Charlie was knocking on the door and shouting. He sounded stressed.

'Why's he sounding so agitated?' Hannah thought, and in the same moment wondered why she was on the floor.

"Hannah, talk to me," Charlie shouted again.

'Well no, not shouting, not angry shouting, worried shouting,' she thought.

"Hi Charlie. Sorry I slipped. It's this bloody floor. I'm fine. I don't think I've not broken anything," Hannah called as she climbed back onto her feet and slumped onto the toilet seat. She pulled at the door.

"Can I come in, love?" Charlie sounded concerned and slowly eased the door open.

"Christ are you okay? You're as white as a sheet. Come on, I got you."

Charlie reached into the confined space and hauled her to her feet, then laid her on the cushioned seat in the saloon and wrapped her in a towel.

"Is there anything I should know, Hannah? Any medical thing you have? Are you diabetic?" Charlie spoke with urgency in his voice, putting a hand to her forehead and peering into her eyes.

"I'm so sorry Charlie. I was just a little light headed, being inside after all that fresh air. Could I have a drink? Some water. I'm fine, really. Just give me a moment." Hannah spoke drowsily but swung her legs to sit up, pulling the beach towel round her bare shoulders.

Charlie handed her a glass and she gulped down its contents. He refilled the glass but cautioned against downing the second too fast as he squatted in front of her. She scooped a handful of hair from her face as Charlie watched her intently. Hannah wanted to avoid his eyes, but summoned the courage to meet them and gave him a small smile.

They both began to speak, then awkwardly hesitated. 'You first' he motioned.

"No, yeah, well actually, now I think about it, that's the only thing I've drunk all day isn't it? I think I'm a bit dehydrated is all and you know how weird yacht interiors can be," She white-lied, but the story sounded convincing. She suspected she'd had a shutdown -- they'd happened before and left her feeling exhausted.

"Sorry I didn't mean to frighten you. Really, I'm fine, Charlie. I would say if I had any doubts." Hannah drizzled her apologies and explanation, stroking Charlie's concerned face with her fingers.

"Thank you. Thank you for being here," her voiced trailed away, embarrassed.

"Shush, nonsense." Charlie's voice was calm as he placed his hands gently on her thighs in comfort.

"Here, I've got some spare clothes. I know it's not cold but you'll feel better covered. If you're certain you're okay you can lie here where I can keep an eye on you. I'll open the other hatch and let some air through."

"I'll be okay in a while, Charlie. Could I have something to nibble on, like a biscuit or something? Maybe we could have supper a little later than we planned?" Hannah patted the seat as she spoke, to be certain, to be grounded.

Charlie kitted her out with some trackie bottoms and one of his t-shirts. He'd set the kettle to boil and handed her a warm drink as he took a seat opposite. When Hannah had finished her drink and biscuit she curled up on the seat.

"Don't let me sleep too long, please Charlie. I only need thirty minutes or I'll feel like death."

Now relieved, Charlie pulled out a book, propped his reading glasses on the end of his nose and settled himself opposite the young woman. After only a page, he looked up again and saw her asleep, her mouth half open. He sat watching, watching over her, keeping her safe.

The feeling made him feel suddenly protective. Hannah liked to project energy and confidence, like an embodiment of the independent modern woman she was, but when she was sleeping, she was just a child.

'This is crazy' he thought, shifting his gaze to the evening sky outside, now filled with smoky evening ambers. 'This one's really got to me. I've known her for what? A day. How can she have done this to me? How has she snuck through my minefield and planted her flag?'

* * * *

"Hannah. Hannah sleepy head. Half an hour as promised," Charlie spoke gently with a hand on her shoulder.

Hannah stretched cat like with a groan of satisfaction then sat up blinking slowly.

"How are you feeling, honey?" he asked.

Hannah stretched again, took her bearings, then nodded.

"Actually? I feel fine. Phew, that was weird wasn't it? English girls always overdo things on the first day. We're famous for it," she said with a forced cheerfulness.

"Good. You look a better colour now. You gave me a bit of fright. Do you realise how much paper work there'd be if you died on my boat? I'd probably drop you over the side instead." Charlie stood and turned to the galley.

"Oh my god, Charlie. Is that what you do to your victims? No shallow graves for you, then?"

Charlie brandished a carving knife and leered at her comically.

"Tosser," she teased back.

"Darling, can I ask you to stay exactly where you are. Just relax until you can get to your feet without creating a scene. I'll make a start at supper. I hope you've found your appetite again?"

Hannah nodded with an obedient smile.

"What about the bar, Charlie? Don't you need to be back?" Hannah asked, as he busied himself dicing vegetables.

Charlie shook his head as he made noisy chops with the blade.

"It'll still be there in the morning. This is Thailand love; we don't have clocking on hours. Anyway, Prep knows what to do, if he's minded to work. It's no problem. 'Mimi panha' as we say round here. I tell you what, reach behind you and see if that wine has cooled."

"If supper's nearly ready I will have a quick wash. I promise not collapse but I'd like to wash the salt off my skin at least," Hannah said, handing him the wine bottle.

"It'll be ready in five minutes so be quick. I'll be listening," he replied from a rising cloud of steam as he drained fresh cooked noodles.

Charlie made an excellent Pad Thai, which they ate in the cockpit under the setting sun. They reflected on their day, laughing as they checked each item on their fingers. The wine had indeed cooled; they'd had a fine day sailing, great food, fun company and an exciting bathroom incident.

"And a perfect sunset!" Hannah added a final item to the list.

She lay on her back, her head in Charlie's lap. She closed her eyes as he gently stroked her hair though it was still tangled from the sea breeze.

"Hello, what's this scar, Hannah?" Charlie ran his thumb over a white line on Hannah's forehead.

"Oh, just a regular sibling machete attack. It was my sister when we were kids. I see it as a mark of surviving childhood. You've probably seen my cuts too, huh? It's okay though, they're a part of my story, my fucked up teen years. No such pride about those." She wasn't self-conscious about her past, but she patted her hair back over her forehead all the same.

"That's a healthy attitude, Hannah. You avoid making a song and dance about being trans or your past traumas, but you can't escape being who you are, none of us can," replied Charlie gently.

"Some try though, huh? Yes, I'm trans, I'm over it. It doesn't make me complacent for the problems other people are facing. I try to help where I can at work, offering a bit of support to students.

"Discovering I was autistic was the biggest surprise in my life. I hide that pretty well huh? Sorry I'm talking too much, again." Hannah was suddenly self-conscious.

"No apology needed and if it helps, no I didn't know you were on the spectrum -- is that the right word? You're a clever girl, Hannah and I admire your approach to life and how your brain works," Charlie replied.

"Ha! I fooled you too, huh? You should see my brain from this side!" Hannah laughed ironically.

"Are there scars we can't see?" Charlie ventured. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. Not my business."

"Do you mean surgery scars or the other ones?" Hannah asked, opening her eyes with a frown.

Charlie shrugged 'It doesn't matter'.

"Well since you asked and have seen more of me than most, you can have a peek at my surgery with a head torch if you like. I'm quite proud of the needlework. You be the judge. Does it feel like a cisgender puss?"

"So long as Percy has somewhere to bury his head he doesn't mind. No, I wouldn't have known. Vadges are all different anyway, like breasts, just not as obvious. Besides dicks aren't famous for being judgemental." Charlie sounded defensive.

"That sounds about right -- I mean that's what people generally say, so I suppose it's true. So mine was alright then, Charlie?" Hannah studied her fingers casually.

"Now who's fishing for compliments?" he replied.

"Would it be asking too much to have another go at it? So you can be certain." She looked up again.

"Are you quite sure? Two hours ago I thought you were dying," Charlie cautioned her.

"Oh yes," she nodded emphatically. "Two hours is enough time for a whale to calf and your dick's not anywhere near as big."

"You know how to flatter a guy, you sly charmer," he chuckled.

"Come on then," Hannah said quietly. She rose to her feet and offered a hand to Charlie. Holding him by his fingertips, she made for the steps down the saloon, and then accidentally banged her head as she looked back to him.

"Ow, fuck!" she exclaimed, rubbing her hair.

Charlie roared with laughter and after a moment so did Hannah.

"What are we like?" she giggled, holding her head.

Charlie closed the distance to her and placed his hands on her hips and drew her towards him, studying her smiling blue eyes.

"What are we like? I know what you're like. You're like a patch of sunlight on a spring day, or a rainbow caught in a waterfall. You're the excited dog playing at the beach, then her sleepy eyes in my lap. You're..." Charlie's voice trailed off as he pulled her close to his shoulder, hiding the emotion that threatened him. He kissed her hair as she made cat paw pinches at his arms and they rocked gently, slower than the gentle movement of the boat.

After what seemed an age, Hannah looked up and they kissed, slow, tender. Charlie wondered if their serenity could ebb from the blissful bubble that enveloped them. He'd seen her every mood in these few hours from vulnerable woman to sassy clown. He found himself conflicted. One part of him wanted to take advantage of her youthful sexual potency, but the other felt paternal and protective.

Hannah sensed it too. She buried her nose into Charlie's chest, to fill her head with his scent and listen to his slow steady heartbeat.

She moved first, looking up again into his dark eyes, searching. She could never be certain of her own emotions but knew she could find her answer in him. Exchanges of trust. She couldn't explain it and could find none of the right words in her heart.

Hannah slid her hands down his arms, taking his hand and turning to the bedroom, led him still dumbstruck. They stood in the shadows in silence. Hannah reached to unhook her top, and then stepped out of her joggers so she was naked. Charlie was motionless, so she unbuttoned his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders then unbuckled his shorts, letting them fall.

"Come," she whispered, sliding back onto the sheets.

Charlie stepped forward in a daze and climbed between her parted legs, to gently lie on her.

She wanted his solidity and needed his weight on her. He made her feel small and she could safely submit to his strength.

When she was younger she'd learned to horse ride. The size of the animal frightened her at first, until her teacher explained that no matter how big the horse, they were more nervous than she was. She learned to conquer her fear and grew to trust the horse's strength so that they became one, bonded together by trust.