Under the Sky

Introduction

This story stands alone but continues from Under Your Spell. There are references to my earlier series A Fishing Trip, which follow the central character before she transitioned (and still had a penis).

[Note to readers -- this is a story about a post-op trans woman and her relationships. There is sex but not on every page.]

"Hi Hannah, it's Steve Paslow. Listen, I've been asked to move Skua from the marina in Weymouth round to Anglesey. Would you be up for crewing? I know you need some skipper days, so you could run the boat with me."

Hannah's heart skipped a beat with excitement but she immediately worried that her diary might not allow it. Steve went on to assure her that, because the boat was part of the research group, not only would she have time off, but she wouldn't lose salary either.

"Just £20 a day to cover food," Steve's voice was matter of fact over the phone. "If you know of anyone else you want to bring along -- we'll be running watches so someone with common sense. Just let me have their details before the day. I'll email you the details now. Sound good?"

Steve was one of the professional skippers her employers used and he knew very well this was a great opportunity for Hannah, who was climbing the ladder to passing her Yachtmaster qualification. He wasn't an instructor, but had many years of experience and enjoyed passing on his knowledge.

Hannah struggled to keep the sound of her huge grin from her voice when she replied. She did indeed know someone and would respond to Steve's email as soon as possible.

She wanted to scream with happiness, stopping with hands on hips as she paced her front room, her phone still gripped tightly in her hand. Her head was already buzzing with ideas and checklists, jostling for attention in her mind.

Her first thought was to contact Paul. She recently renewed her friendship with him after a number of years and hoped he'd be interested in coming along.

Her laptop chimed as Steve's email appeared.

Hannah quickly scanned the attachment for the dates and other details and then dialled Paul.

* * * * *

"Are you ready for embarkation, captain Hannah? Passport, swimwear, winter woollies, big socks?" Paul smiled as he opened the tailgate of his car and offered a hand to lift her bag in for her.

"Kiss please," Hannah demanded, as he shut the lid down and turned to her. Paul slipped a hand to the small of her back and pulled her in close to give her an affectionate squishy kiss on the lips.

"You got my list, didn't you - ready for cold, rain, seasickness? Are those your boots -- I suppose they'll be ok? Got a book to read?" Hannah quizzed him, counting off points on her fingers, as Paul simply cheeped 'Yup' to each one.

"You forget, Hannah. This'll just be like fishing but with cleaner boots and look - I scrubbed mine. You're excited aren't you?" Paul laughed at the unbreakable grin fixed on her face.

Paul had known Hannah for a number of years, though when she disappeared off to university they'd lost touch. Different lives, different towns and for Hannah of course, her transition. Underneath she was the same happy-go-lucky person he'd been attracted to and her new outside completed her and that certainly made her more confident with life. 'Refurbishment' as he teased her about her physical changes.

"We're going on hol-id-day!" Hannah squealed, opening the passenger door to climb in.

"I thought this was work," he replied, closing his door to sit behind the wheel.

"We're going on a paid hol-id-day! Well I'm going on a paid holiday, you're getting a free trip. You see -- it pays to have friends in high places!" Hannah said, leaning across to give him another kiss.

Hannah hadn't told her mother about Paul, because she disapproved of him, but she figured 'what the cat doesn't know... ' and this was work, so it didn't count.

Meeting up with Paul a few weeks ago had gone better than she'd expected. Not only was he actually pleased to see her, but he was even better looking now than she remembered. His greying temples suited him, but he didn't look so old that people might assume she was his daughter.

She took advantage of his concentration in driving to study his looks again. She liked a strong nose, she adored dark blue eyes and raffish hair and then Paul's chiselled chin, with its dimple that she had gently bitten more than once. She reached a hand to stroke his bare forearm, then took a pinch of hair to tweak him.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, not shifting his gaze from the road ahead. "You're still excited aren't you?"

She nodded back at him as he glanced across and her infectious happiness spread to his face too.

"Long ways to go, honey Han," he sighed, and they both settled down into the hypnotic rhythm of the journey.

Hannah's eyes caught fragments of detail as they sped along. A horse swished its tail in a timber-railed paddock; from an orchard pigeons rose as one like a shoal of grey fish; an old man on a tricycle bent grimly forward over its pedals; and everywhere, words flew by.

Delivery trucks, bus stops, supermarket windows, road signs. Her eyes were compelled to read the words till they filled her head and made it ache. She closed her eyes and let the vibration and motion of the car lull her into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * * * *

"Weymouth!" Hannah exclaimed, followed by, "I can see the sea! Ow, my neck hurts! Was I dribbling?"

Hannah rubbed the back of her neck, with a frown.

"I saw the sea before you! And yes, you've been catching flies for the last half hour. Are we making for the Old Town or the new bit?" asked Paul.

Hannah swiped her phone into life and dialled Steve to warn him they were just a few minutes away. Steve explained where they could park and gave her the security code to the pontoon.

They soon found their way, parked the car and shouldered their bags as they walked together to the quayside. As they approached the security gate, Steve was waiting for them.

Hannah introduced the two men to each other and accepted Steve's offer to carry her bag towards the boat. 'Captain' Steve dropped into his role, reminding them how to climb aboard without breaking anything. As they followed single file along the side of the boat, another face appeared to meet them in the cockpit.

"Hannah, Paul, this is our other crew member, Karolina," Steve made a playful gesture to each with his hand. "And I'm Steve in case anyone has forgotten already. Is the kettle on, Karolina? Lets find these two a cabin and we can do a quick briefing. I assume you two are sharing -- no change of plans on the way down?"

Hannah had been on Skua once before, when she was a student and was familiar with its layout. Paul found he needed to duck slightly in the main saloon, which included a small galley and table with a curve of blue seats but it felt spacious. Karolina was already pouring out mugs of tea and handed them across to Steve at the table.

Hannah and Paul lifted their bags through the narrow doorway to their cabin at the rear of the saloon. Directly above was the boat's cockpit, so the low ceiling was moulded to its shape and there was barely room for the two to stand side by side.

"Gather round, guys," Steve called across to Paul and Hannah through their open cabin door. "We've got a window with the tide and a favourable southerly, so we need to get cracking. Dump your bags for now -- there'll be time to sort yourselves out later."

As they settled at the table, Steve invited them to introduce themselves in turn and giving a brief resume of their experience. Steve had been sailing for thirty years, Karolina had crewed on youth square-riggers back in Poland, so Paul was the newbie, having only done a bit of sea fishing.

"Ok," Steve assuming his skipper's role once more. "Here's how we'll do this. Hannah can be my back up and you can have Karolina on your watch. Paul, you'll be with me, for safety initially, but you'll pick it up as we go along.

"Hannah, I need to give these guys a safety briefing. You know the boat, so can I ask you to set up some slips fore and aft? There's an old trawler in front of us, so we'll probably use a fender on the bow and motor against it. OK?"

Hannah had only just started her tea, but got up from the table to make a start. She mouthed "Oh shit!" to Paul as she rose from the table to climb the steps of the companionway.

She emerged on deck and set her tea down on the cockpit table. Theory is one thing, but experience is another, and she suddenly felt the nervous and a little overwhelmed by Steve's instructions.

"Don't rush, Hannah. Do it right, do it once." She took a walk around the deck to familiarise herself, swinging herself around the steel mast shrouds to the bow, where the black mooring ropes were neatly fastened into the deck cleats. She followed the line of the forestay, stretching from the deck to the top of the mast and enjoyed the illusion of movement as clouds drifted overhead.

Looking back from the bow, she admired the curves of the boat, her lines swelling like a tightly fitted sheath dress over shapely hips. People wonder why boats are regarded as feminine, with female pronouns, but here was the clear evidence. She had a sassy style and curves in all the right places. The thought made Hannah smile to herself.

Hannah dug her hands deeper into to her bright red sailing jacket, glad that its bulk hid her own elfish shape.

The boat was tied up at the old town wharf, its weathered stone pierced with ancient iron rings and ladders that must have served fishing boats for centuries. Not far from their mooring was a Victorian lifting bridge standing low over the water, dividing the channel from the marina beyond. The bridge was busy with homeward bound traffic and wandering tourists. A small girl, sitting atop her father's shoulders, excitedly returned Hannah's wave from the yacht.

She turned to pace the deck, looking front and back, remembering to check the tidal flow of the harbour's water as she composed her plan. Once she was certain, she felt confident enough to reset the mooring lines in readiness for their departure. She went over her arrangement once more and hoped Steve wouldn't find fault with it.

With so much experience, Steve could simply glance at a web of ropes and spot the wrong one instantly. Hannah had once heard him shouting at another crewman over a mistake, so although she knew his bark was worse than his bite, she treated him with an anxious respect.

The others emerged on deck and Steve started the engine. In that moment, they were no longer a floating caravan, for the boat now vibrated with life, its exhaust gurgled rhythmically. Anticipation filled the air. Steve beckoned Hannah with a finger.

"I want you on the helm and to take her out. I'm going to keep an eye on these two. Run through your plan with me and lets see if it makes sense."

As Steve spoke, Hannah did her best to fake confidence and keep her nervousness in check. Now was not a time to sound indecisive or Steve would change his mind and be forced to take over.

After listening to her plan, Steve nodded his approval and moved his attention to his other, less experienced crew. He explained his instructions to each of them in simple terms, stressing that each must wait for Hannah's call before carrying them out.

"Paul, Karolina? When Hannah calls your name, drop the short end and pull your rope aboard as fast as possible, okay? Did you get that, Paul?" Steve naturally fussed to ensure each of them understood their role. He placed himself with Karolina at the bow, while Paul stood astride the cockpit seats at the stern, close to Hannah.

Hannah stood at the huge chrome wheel and braced her feet. 'Half the battle is looking the part,' she told herself. 'If you look the part, you start to believe in yourself.

'You can do this, girl. Stick to your plan. Be decisive. Watch everything.' Hannah repeated this to herself like a mantra until she heard Steve's voice from the bow.

"Ok Hannah -- give us the calls," he shouted with a wave to her.

* * * *

They were soon successfully clear of the narrow harbour and motoring south, a fresh wind in their faces and the afternoon sun now hidden behind the silhouette of Portland Bill. Steve shepherded Karolina back into the safety of the cockpit where Paul was already sitting. Ropes were coiled, fenders stowed into lockers, and for the moment everyone could relax and enjoy the unfolding view as they left the noise and bustle of the town behind.

They began to feel the first sways of the boat as she met the low waves in the sheltered bay. The noisy town gulls now glided silently overhead with stiff starched wings outstretched. The afternoon sun bathed the distant hills of the Dorset coast to their left, and Hannah glanced to see two horse riders exercising on the nearby beach, with a dog prancing excitedly in circles around them.

"Well done, Hannah. We'll make a sailor of you yet! Was that your first time doing that?" Steve was standing behind her at the wheel, so she nodded and 'Uhuh'd' him in reply but kept her focus ahead.

"Anything to report? Any... observations?" he spoke quietly to the back of her head.

Hannah was being tested. She cast her eye around the boat. What was it? He'd spotted something, she knew it, but everything seemed ok and she felt annoyed with herself for missing something. Would she ever be able to do this properly, without a grown up looking over her shoulder? Dammit, what was it?

Steve waited a minute to give her time to figure it out.

"No lifejacket, babe. Don't forget to check yourself first -- do it all the time. Don't worry -- you were busy on deck when I reminded them. I'll take the wheel, if you could do the logbook entry for me. I'll shout you the numbers when you're ready."

Steve was generous in his instruction, reinforcing a basic safety rule. His quiet way of doing it gave the lesson even more impact, and Hannah acknowledged it. "Thanks, Steve. Won't happen again."

"Nope." He didn't need to say anything else.

They were approaching a tricky piece of water and through habit, Steve wanted to take the helm himself. Meanwhile, Hannah called the other two to help her hoist the main sail and then the foresail, which unfurled into a huge triangle like a conjuring trick. They were now a proper sailing boat, Hannah thought to herself, although Steve was gunning the engine to make up time.

By the time they tacked west past the notorious overfalls of the Portland race, it was after seven and the sun was not far from the horizon. Steve finally switched off the roaring diesel engine and the ensuing silence became filled with the sound of water churning past the hull.

Lights began to appear on the land off their starboard bow. First orange street lights, then car lights, weaving like fireflies along roads now invisible in the growing darkness of the evening.

Their conversations and laughter fell quiet as each watched the spectacle of a sunset from the sea. The Dorset coastline swung up and down beyond the growing expanse of waves.

Steve stood in his shorts with his big tummy stretching his t-shirt and looked too, scratching his wrist absentmindedly. Karolina's face was hidden under the hood of her sailing jacket and Paul sought the warmth of Hannah's body by shuffling along to sit beside her, so that their legs pressed against each other on the bench.

After a few minutes of peaceful contemplation, Steve stirred himself back into action.

"Right!" he announced in his business-like way, looking at his wrist watch. "Hannah and Paul, if you wouldn't mind looking after things up here? The auto-pilot is on. Karolina and I can make a start at supper. Hannah, I need to brief you with our passage plan and then we can start our watch keeping properly, after we've eaten."

With that the two disappeared below, leaving Paul and Hannah alone for the first time since they had set off. Paul reached around Hannah's shoulder and pulled her closer to his chest.

"I'm so proud of you, Hannah," he murmured into her ear, then kissed her cold cheek through the straggles of hair that had blown loose from her pony-tail.

Hannah lay down to rest herself on his legs. She had forgotten how mentally demanding a sail boat could be and allowed herself a brief respite in the comfort of Paul's body.

The air was chilly, so she pulled the sleeves of her fleece over her fingers, held in front of her face like a prayer. Paul placed his bare hand over them and she ventured a couple of fingers out for him to hold.

The boat surged forward, always in motion like an animal tolerating their company. Skua was a strong boat, over forty feet long and a good size for long voyages. She had anchored in blue Caribbean seas surrounded by humpback whales, and sat motionless in idle tropical air with sweating crew under limp sails. She'd endured ice on her decks off Norway, half naked student parties in the Canaries, and excited biologists comparing notes and celebrating discoveries all across the Atlantic.

Hannah felt safe in the boat and in the arms of the man she'd loved for so long. It was true they'd been longer apart than together, but now she was with him everything in her world was right.

She wondered how long they would have this time. She even toyed with the idea that somehow they might live together, despite her mother's reluctance. Her mother had never come to trust Paul, but Hannah understood why. Perhaps with time, if she got to know him better, she would change her mind.

As she lay in his lap, hearing the clatter of plates and distant laughter from the two below, she puzzled over Paul. She couldn't make out his sexual preferences or if indeed he had any. Perhaps he was making the best of things as he went along. He was gay, then bi, and now he had her -- the distinctions seemed silly to her. Paul had known her before her transition. They knew each other's bodies before and he loved her then -- how her body was then. She knew he still had feelings for her, that he admired her and enjoyed her company, but they'd never talked about the future.

The irony of her situation did not appeal. She had finally become the woman she had always been on the inside, but in doing so, was she now really enough for Paul? The thought made her sit up suddenly, her eyes looking down at her hands.

"Everything ok?" Paul asked, innocently brushing another strand of hair from her face.

"Yea. I was getting a crick in my side," Hannah replied, glancing up with a smile. "I should check the course."

* * * *

Hannah and Paul were obliged to take turns at the supper table, so that there was always someone on deck keeping watch. After a mountain of pasta, Steve reminded them all of their overnight roles.

Hannah and Karolina were to take first watch until midnight, when the men would take their turn. There was a simple rule to watch-keeping: never be late on duty.

Hannah reminded Paul of this requirement as she gave him a quick goodnight kiss and he closed the door to their cabin. She turned to find Steve was waiting to speak to her, and blushed, being caught showing her affection for Paul.

"Any uncertainties, any not-sure's and any course changes, come and find me. OK?" Steve studied her, and she nodded in reply. "Cool -- have fun and I'll see you at midnight." Steve stood braced against the motion of the boat.

"...and don't be late," Hannah teased him.

"Yeah, don't be late! Lifejackets and safety lines, please. Keep an eye on Karolina, but she seems to know what she's doing. Night then," Steve turned and closed his own cabin door.

Hannah liked Steve despite his gruff nature, but she doubted they could ever be close friends, despite their shared passion for boats. They did share a common instinct for safety and to consider the welfare of others, just as every skipper must do. She wondered if he was married or had a steady relationship -- he'd never mentioned it. She'd never considered it because there was so much to learn and her attention was always focused on the next task or reviewing her own performance on the boat.