Whale Bay

"I wonder what they're going to taste like when they've been marinating in oil for a while," I mused.

"Life in the wild is brutal. I don't want to think about it right now. Let's go home. I could use some cheering up. You can marinate me in oil and I'll suck you like a vacuum, OK?" She put her arm through mine and her head on my shoulder. We sat side by side in silence. She was probably thinking of beautiful silver fish.

****

We were looking into suing for a loss of economic benefits if salmon migrations were disrupted by drilling and spills. It was tricky because it hadn't happened yet, no one owns salmon in the wild, and future losses are always hard to measure. During dinner with Primm a few nights later, Ciara asked me to review a memo she was writing on the subject. We put our heads together for a lively discussion of citation formatting. As we finished she kept my attention for one more thing.

"Thanks, I appreciate the help." She sounded so sincere. "You've qualified for the next level of Ciara. Now I'm available for your tactile gratification."

"What does that mean?"

"I thought you had a decent vocabulary. That's lawyer-speak for groping privileges. I want you to have the full Ciara experience. I'm really not worried, frankly, 'cause you're too chicken. But I want you thinking about me all the time. OK?" She thrust a boob toward me a fraction and waited.

I was tempted, just to back her off. Well, among other reasons. She was getting too uppity and tempting. Also, she appeared to have omitted some underwear again. But then I thought about the implications. I would be setting a precedent. This might be the kind of thing social magicians could handle, but not me.

She smiled patronizingly. "You're cute," she said, "but not exactly a bad boy, are you?"

That did it. I reached out and came within an inch of pinching her right on the nipple, but of course I stopped myself in time. She gave a cute little anticipatory squeak. I kept my head down and resumed work. So did she. We were both stifling a laugh, partially successfully. Primm didn't react...wait, was he smiling? I was getting paranoid. Shirley was still cleaning up dinner, but she probably wasn't clued in.

"Oooooo, I think I'm in love!" she whispered. "You're doing better. Well, a little. At least it's progress."

Back in my room later that night, I was thinking that the cost of avoiding mistakes is missing opportunities. I figured she had never missed an opportunity, ever. She was making me wonder whether there was more than one good way to get through life.

****

The next day, after breakfast, Shirley cornered me in the kitchen. "You like her?"

"I do! Do you?"

"Don't be dumb. She nice girl. She like you! You get married!"

I explained that we couldn't do that. I was impressed at indigenous courtship speeds, though.

"So dumb! You should be couple!"

"Did she say that?"

"I can see. On her face. On yours!"

Was it that obvious? How far behind her could Primm be?

****

Back to work. The campaign continued. We were on a conference call with the Alaska Department of Environmental Conservation, an optimistically named bureaucracy responsible for the deaths of many trees. We were on hold. Primm was making copies.

"Hey Aidan. Is there a dress code in this office?"

The idea was absurd. Our clients wore dirty jeans and flannel.

"Like, when Primm's not here could I wear just a chop top and a little thong to work? I have a couple of lacey French ones I could wear for you. There's a pretty normal white one and a black one that's naughty. It really shows off my ass well and it doesn't cover much in front. There's a little bow.... "

"Ciara...!"

"Am I making you nervous?"

I was checking on Primm. "Wear whatever. I'll never see them." Although her tights made them pretty obvious.

"You never know when the wind is going to lift a girl's skirt around here. Anyway, I'd look good. I have a great ass!"

"Everybody says so?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

"You'll catch cold. Shirley will rat you out."

"No, we could just sit by the fire and you could keep me warm. Plus, Shirley's on my team now. We have girl talks, one-syllable ones. It's two against one. Better watch out!"

She was kidding about the thong, but she did seem tight with Shirley. Shirley was connected. I thought that could be dangerous.

****

At lunch one day, somewhere between the usual low-level flirtations, Ciara came out of character again for a minute. "You're a tough case. Maybe I'm not going to be able to crack you after all. We don't have forever." She seemed uncharacteristically downbeat.

Even after all this time I was still doubtful that I would be any more than a passing fancy for our little disco ball. "I don't know what you see in me. Maybe you're just lonely. Be careful you don't talk yourself into something you don't really want. People will get hurt. Or fired."

"No, no, that's not the problem. I know we're not the same. I understand that, really. But we get along great, right? I think that's because we complement each other well. If we were both like me we'd be talking 180% of the time. You're really careful; I take risks. You have a good analytical brain; I make good quick decisions. It makes our conversations so interesting! We'd make a good team. Have you thought about it like that?"

She was smart about people, so I had to consider the chance she was right. I went through the usual dithering while she watched patiently. What I ended up telling her, though, was that as long as Primm was in charge, pursuing a relationship was the surest way to get us separated. She didn't bother to disagree, but she seemed impatient with me.

That was even more effective than the flirting, actually. I wished I could think of a way to make her happy. I tried, but nothing seemed safe. And then I remembered that I really shouldn't be trying, anyway.

****

On the way to lunch a few days later Ciara was quiet again. She was wearing earphones, so I asked what she had on.

"Just music. I kind of fell out of the habit in law school. It wasn't conducive. But I have more down time up here and I'm getting into it again. Do you like ABBA?"

"Good tunes. Maybe a little relentlessly disco and upbeat."

"Uh-huh. . . . but actually they have other songs. Here's a good one: 'Take a Chance on Me.' You might want to think about that. "If you change our mind . . . ".

"Is this a trap?"

"No! Not yet, anyway." She flashed a grin. "Just -- the mood is right. And then there's 'Andante,' a young girl telling her guy how she wants him to make love to her for the first time. It's beautiful and romantic and sexy and wishful . . . .

"Look, Aidan, I know you try to think your way through life logically, and I try too, but music shows what you miss when you only listen to your lawyer brain. Satisfying instincts is a lot of what make us happy. I don't mean we should satisfy all our urges simplistically or recklessly or self-destructively. That's just trading short-term gain for long term pain. But if you delay gratification forever, what's the point? You have to use the opportunities nature gives you, or your whole life will be just like the weather up here - gray, with the winds of time sweeping right past you, unstoppable and gone before you know it."

****

Despite all the coaching, I somehow managed to get through a full month sticking to the plan. I was worried, though. I could resist 99% of the time and still fail completely.

One of our jobs was to work with the indigenous population, and fortunately that could involve field trips. For the salmon case, we had to persuade some local fishermen who depended on the yearly sockeye runs to be parties to a lengthy, unpleasant lawsuit against huge corporations with brilliant, cynical lawyers. Primm somehow got in touch with the Bering Sea Elders Council, which was already concerned about the drilling. Their next meeting was coming up, and he wanted to attend.

The meeting was up the coast, and the roads being muddy in Spring it was best to travel by boat. Primm got the use of a council elder's fishing boat for the day. It was an old Hatteras 43' that came with a captain Shirley knew well and said was 'good.' Given typical sea conditions in the Bering, I hoped 'excellent' was just too many syllables for her. In any event, the whole thing seemed like a great adventure.

On the morning of the meeting, though, the seas were up, the wind was against us, and Primm announced that he got seasick easily. We would have to cover the meeting and try to persuade the Council by ourselves, even though we were 50 years younger than any of them. So Ciara and I layered on our warmest clothes and slickers and headed down to the town dock, briefcases in hand.

The captain met us at the boat. He was the typically laconic local -- older, stoic, and minimally informative. The winds were obviously building. The seas outside were gray and heaving under threatening skies, waves were already cresting the breakwater, and the boat was rocking and straining at its dock lines. With misgivings, Ciara and I cast off while the captain gunned the engine, and we headed out of the harbor. Soon we were hammering through miles of freezing swells.

The trip seemed endless but it finished calmly as we motored a half mile up a sheltered estuary to pick up a mooring. We dinghied ashore barely in time for the meeting, woozy, chilled and exhausted.

But the meeting went well. As Ciara had predicted, she and I did indeed make a great team. I thought I did a good job of presenting the facts, numbers and legal issues, and Ciara came up with clever insights and amusing examples. She charmed the elders so thoroughly that they asked us to dinner. There would be fish. We had to accept. They were good guys and we wanted them on our team.

At the party we drank some local brew and caught up on fish problems and a lot of local gossip. We discovered that everyone knew Shirley. Apparently she and our captain were a longstanding item. He had lots of family in this village, though, so it was mostly a long distance romance. They asked the inevitable questions about a couple of relative youngsters living together under the same roof, one being an attractive female of the species. I looked at Ciara for help, and she just blushed and smiled, so I bet they thought we had something going. I got approving glances and she got some nice smiles. I wondered what would get back to Primm.

Dinner broke up late, and I suddenly realized we weren't going home tonight.

We motored back to the boat with the captain. The sun was still low on the horizon, where it seems to hang forever this time of year. The water in the estuary was almost flat, but an ominous-looking squall line was coming from the north and the wind made our headway toward the boat slow and wet. Each little ripple turned into a shower of fine, freezing spray. Our boat was swinging back and forth on its mooring in the gusts, pivoting so fast that the captain had to hold the gunwale to keep the dinghy alongside while we clambered aboard. As soon as we had boarded, though, he released his grip and drifted away downwind, announcing that he was spending the night with family on shore. He gave us a solemn nod, gunned the outboard and headed back to the dock. We watched with growing alarm as he disappeared into the gloom.

Ciara and I looked at each other for answers. We were both cold and wet from the dinghy ride. A sudden gust rocked the boat. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Are we going to be OK out here? What if the anchor line breaks?" The boat was occasionally stretching the mooring line tight as a violin string, then slinging itself forward and blowing back again for another big tug on the line.

"Well, I'll check the chafing gear. We would blow ashore anyway, so it's not life-threatening. But it doesn't seem smart to leave us out here without the engine key. Let's try the radio."

I flipped on the power, sat in the pilothouse and tried the usual channels. I couldn't raise anyone. I would have thought someone would be monitoring the anchorage, but it was late and the location was remote and primitive. I flopped in the cockpit. The wind was now a constant low howl, vibrating the rigging energetically. The sun was finally starting to disappear and the night-long twilight was beginning. Obviously we were here for the duration.

Ciara emerged from the companionway. "I have good news from below. There's plenty of warm beer, jerky and pork rind. And there's a heater."

We went below, slammed the door to the pilothouse, and sat together on the large settee in the sudden silence, eating pork rind, sucking on beers and considering our fate. The wind was gusting and the boat rocked and pivoted ponderously. It seemed like there should be a TV.

The tension built.

"Well...." said Ciara finally, "I guess it's time." She turned her bright blue eyes on me.

I rubbed the top of her knee. The wind moaned quietly around the pilothouse above us. I thought about Ciara moaning.

She said, "I'm going to get out of these wet clothes," and went into the bunkroom and returned in her white tee shirt. Her hair now had somehow acquired a just-about-to-be-fucked look. She sat back down next to me again, a lot closer. I remembered the open door policy, and the tongue stud.

"This could be the most romantic evening ever for a couple of environmental lawyers." She smiled kindly and drilled me with those eyes again. She waited. She knew I knew she had me.

I kissed her, hard. What the hell.

"Finally!" she whispered, smiling as I stroked her boob. "It's a miracle!" We kissed again while she ran a hand up my leg. I got stiff. She felt it. She squeezed me as we kissed some more. She slumped down on the settee and I rolled toward her. We kissed and cuddled and groped like I had been imagining since the day she unpacked.

"This is perfect," I said. "You're perfect. Thanks for persisting. I know I'm too serious and too cautious and too slow and . . ."

"Would you just stop thinking and get on with it, please? God, I'm so tired of begging..." We went back to kissing, but then she pushed me off. " . . . No, actually, wait! If this is our one and only, I want to make it special. Let me think." She kissed me tenderly. "Why don't you just head into that nice front cabin and get good and ready? I'll be right behind you."

I untangled my unwilling body from hers and headed for the forecabin. The door kept dodging as the boat swiveled on its mooring, but I made it through. Inside was an expansive berth that came to a point in the bow. It was uncluttered and covered in a black sheet and pillows. Above it was a clear hatch where rain was starting to fall in little bursts. The squall was almost on us, but the boat's heater kept things toasty. We rocked and swiveled again, and another burst of rain drummed on the hatch like bullets. I turned on the little brass-shaded reading lamp above the berth and it cast a warm cone of yellow light, illuminating a fresh box of condoms on the shelf along the hull. I had to give old Shirley credit. This place was cozy.

I took off my shirt and trousers and stretched out on some pillows. I encouraged the tent in my underwear a little while I waited.

Ciara entered and quietly closed the door behind her. She was in only a lacey bra and her famous black thong. Her tits looked like they were trying to escape. The thong was tinier than I ever imagined.

"If you promise not to laugh, I'll do a little strip for you. It would help my confidence if you kept a straight face." She looked at me uncertainly.

"There's no chance I'll laugh. You're pure sex. Tell you what -- I'll keep something else straight to prove my appreciation." I stroked myself in my underwear. Ciara watched me dubiously for a minute but seemed reassured. She started to gyrate gently while holding one hand behind her head and rubbing herself through the lacey front of her thong. Then, staring at my cock as she swiveled, she moved her hand inside. I increased my pace. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened as she let herself get more aroused. After a minute, seeming reluctant, she remembered to move both hands behind her and open her bra clasp. The motion made her boobs bulge even more against the lacey cups. I increased my pace again. Finally the bra relaxed and slid down her arms to the floor. She put both hands behind her head, gave me a nice smile and shook her tits for me. They swung ponderously. They had bright blue nipple bars. I stroked hard, tensed, and almost came.

Ciara pivoted and stuck out her ass. She patted it a couple of times for me and then, bending away, slowly dragged her thong down her taut thighs. When she was fully bent, she wiggled her ass at me. Finally she bounced up facing me and held out her arms for applause. Her breasts sprung up and settled sexily. I applauded. She did a comic bow. Her tits hung sexily. She was just so hot. And smart. And funny and spontaneous and ... so good for me.

"What would you like next?" she asked a little breathily. "My door is open."

"Well...I've been thinking about your tongue stud ever since the airport. What else is open?"

"I knew it! Just don't come yet. OK?"

I pushed off my underwear and spread my legs, and she lay down between them. She grasped my cock and started slowly thumbing and licking the underside. After a minute I couldn't help humping her hand. She held me still and waited a minute while the rain started pounding on the hatch and asked me whether she was a bad girl. I assured her she was the best bad girl ever. Then, locking eyes with me, she captured my shaft in her mouth. She stroked the underside with her tongue stud, again and agan and again . . . .

It felt great, but the physical sensation wasn't the point. It was the mind game again. She was staring me in the eyes, licking me around the edges, and then taking me all the way in, stretching her lips tight around me. I owed her, but in the meantime I wanted to get off with those pretty red lips. I started thrusting, slowly at first. She kept her eyes on mine while suction dented her cheeks. I pushed in harder and faster. She stayed with it. I could feel that hard little stud running up and down me. It was going to make me come. I pulled out and chilled. She waited for me.

Finally I held my cock upright between us, an invitation. She gave me a big smile, got up and climbed aboard, and just sat there looking down at me from above those fantastic tits. She mischievously jiggled them at me again. I lightly pinched her nipples against their bars. I thought I could feel her flexing on my cock.

I was already near overload, and I felt I'd be good for maybe five seconds. But she started very slowly, rising and dropping on me languorously, clearly intending to make it last. We settled into a nice, slow rhythm while the rain danced on the hatch and the boat swung gently in the wind. Occasionally a loud gust would tilt us slightly left or right. The lamplight fell right where we were connected, and I watched, fascinated, as I slid in and out of her. The cabin was toasty warm. It was perfect. It was a fantasy.

"I could stay here forever, doing this with you," Ciara sighed as she rocked herself on me. "I like you when you let yourself go. I don't want it to end." I smiled like an idiot, reached up and cupped her boobs. I felt the same.

Unfortunately some things can't wait forever. After a while we picked up the pace. At first she just sighed a lot, lost in the feelings. But soon she got more serious and vocal in her usual uninhibited way and started breathing and moaning. Watching her let herself go was just so hot. She arched her back and started bouncing hard. I didn't want to restrain her boobs but I let them brush my hands. Finally she bent down on me and cried aloud while pounding her pussy on me. A minute later her legs were shaking, and we came together.