Whiter Than Snowflakes

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Chance meeting on Florida night leads to more.
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Late February. It was unseasonably cold when I arrived back at the Fort Lauderdale marina. The rain was coming down in those bucket size raindrops you only seem to see in Florida. It was 10 o'clock at night, and I was eager to get back to the 44-foot sailboat that is my home and refuge.

She was standing at the little gangway to the big ugly barge type houseboat, two slips over from my own slip F20. She looked like a drowned rat. A very pretty, 25 year old, drowned rat. Her short blue dress was plastered to her voluptuous frame. I guessed her to be about 5'7" tall, the vast majority of which was beautifully shaped legs. Her medium length red hair was matted to her scalp, and dripped on broad, pale shoulders.

I stopped to admire her for a moment, as she tried, with no success at all, to light a cigarette in the driving rain. A few drunken guests from the perpetual floating house party on the cruiser at the end of the pier wandered by, oblivious to the rain, but she didn't seem to notice. I approached her cautiously.

"If you're waiting for the guy that lives here, I heard he went down to Mexico. Vacation or something."

"Oh."

Her shoulders slumped a bit, and she sounded disappointed.

"If you want to wait a while, you could wait on my boat. It's warm, dry, and right over there. You can see the lights go on if he comes home."

I watched the dock lights reflect in her pale green eyes, as caution, and the desire to wait someplace less soggy fought it out on her face. She seemed to come to a decision.

"I would like to wait a bit longer, and it would be nice to get out of the rain."

As I walked her to my boat, the staccato tip tap of her bright yellow high heels made a pleasant counter point to the beating of the raindrops on the cement pier. I helped her aboard, unlocked the companionway, and helped her down the short ladder that led into the main saloon. In the chill, I couldn't help noticing how prominently her nipples stood out against the thin, blue cotton of her dress. I reluctantly turned the heat up to high.

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduce myself. My name's Steve Casey."

"Binx. Binx Shannon. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Casey."

She smiled the most gorgeous smile that I had ever seen and put out her hand for me to shake. Her hand felt warm and solid in mine. No dainty, half-finger clasp here. I liked her immediately.

"Please, call me Steve", I called out from the big master stateroom, as I rummaged through a drawer for something dry for her to wear. I came up with a stained, but clean pair of old navy blue sweatpants, and my oversized Georgia Bulldogs sweatshirt. On the way back to the main saloon, I grabbed one of the huge, fluffy towels from the overhead locker, and hustled my new, but still sodden friend Binx into the custom built Bathroom. Not many sailboats have a real bathtub, or the hot water tanks to support one, but I like my creature comforts, and spent the extra money to have them installed.

"But, I hadn't really planned on…"

"Binx, you are soaked to the skin, and chilled to the bone. While you indulge yourself in a hot bath, I will go and concoct for you the best hot-buttered-rum known to civilized man."

Her protestations weakened as I poured a generous helping of bubble bath into the already running water. I closed the door on my way out, and headed back to the galley.

As I put the kettle of water on the small propane stove, I could hear the sound of contented splashing, and soft, but slightly off key singing emanating from the bathroom. I wondered what brought her here, but finally decided that it didn't matter.

I put the finishing touches of cinnamon sticks and a little nutmeg on the drinks, carried them to the bathroom door, and knocked softly.

"Your drink awaits. Don't let it get cold."

"Ohhh, but I don't want to move yet. I think I died and went to heaven."

"Would you like me to bring it to you?"

It was quiet for a full three seconds, as my ears almost pulled a muscle listening for a response.

"That would be nice." The reply was high pitched, and a little nervous sounding. I juggled the door open with the two large and very full mugs. She was up to her neck in bubbles, and looked absolutely radiant. She accepted the steaming mug with both hands, rising up just enough to see the tops of her breasts, with bubbles, whiter than snowflakes, clinging to them. It was a great effort not to stare.

I sat on the edge of the tub as we sipped our drinks.

"So, Binx, what brings you down to Bahia Mar Marina, in this kind of weather, and this late at night?"

"I lost something, and I heard that the gentleman who lives on that boat over there might be able to help me get it back."

"Nothing horribly important, I hope."

"Somehow it seems less important now than it did an hour ago." She had that look on her face that says, "I can't believe I just said that out loud."

"Well, here's to forgetting about our problems for a while. If we don't look at them, maybe they'll go away. Or at least hide under the bed." As she clinked her mug against mine and smiled, I saw that her cup was almost empty. "Care for another one of those?"

"Yes please," she said, as she handed me the empty mug.

As I started to get up, a single, small, bubble covered foot emerged to rest softly on my hand on the edge of the tub. Tiny, perfectly formed toes wrapping around to grip like little fingers.

"Thanks for taking me in like this. It's been a while since I felt this good."

"All part of the full service package ma'am. Thank nuthin of it," I drawled in my best fake southern accent.

As I returned to the galley to heat more water, I tried to wonder what I had gotten myself into, but with the sounds of Binx emerging from the bath, those thoughts receded rapidly to a dull whisper.

While I waited for Binx to surface, I busied myself with putting on some music. Miles Davis, from the time before he got too far out for anyone except musicians to understand. The old Phase Linear amplifier was driving the little Klipche speakers quite nicely, and the soft sounds of good jazz filled the room.

When I turned around, she was standing there. I had never imagined anyone making my ratty old sweatshirt look sexy, but she did. Her hair was wrapped in the big towel. I noticed she had decided to forego the sweatpants. She strolled into the main saloon with that wonderfully pneumatic stride that some very lucky women seem to be born with, and sat down on the big orange couch. I brought the two fresh hot-buttered-rums over and sat down next to her. We talked about everything, and nothing at all, and as we talked, all the tension seemed to leave her. The over wound springs and coils loosening over good conversation, and good rum. I began to drift in that contented, quiet reverie which seems peculiar to the male of the species, and she asked the inevitable question.

"What are you thinking?"

Just as women are born with the genetic predisposition to ask that question of men, men are born with an equal genetic certainty that whole civilizations might crumble and fall if they ever learn the true answer.

We're not.

We are just drifting in that pleasant thoughtless void that women can never seem to capture, and thus, can never comprehend. So I told her that I was contemplating my good fortune that the strange gentleman that lived at slip F18 had decided to go to Mexico at this particular time. And in saying that, somehow it became the truth. She looked preoccupied for a moment, and then leaned close, and took my hand.

"So, what else does this, "full service plan," include Mister Casey?"

I searched her face for any trace of uncertainty in what she was saying, and found none. It seemed that this was something we both needed very badly. I took her hand, and led her back to the big master stateroom.

The smell of healthy, well scrubbed and slightly overheated girl filled the room as I took her into my arms, and kissed her. Her mouth was soft, and willing under my own, and opened, searching greedily as my tongue touched her lips. As we kissed her body molded to mine, seeming to fill every gap between us with exquisitely perfect girl. I peeled the old sweatshirt off over her head, losing the towel on her hair in the process. Her red hair tumbled down over pale and slightly freckled shoulders to her perfect breasts. She laid back on the king size bed, and watched without comment as I undressed.

I kissed her again as I laid down next to her, and then nudged her gently into rolling over on her stomach. She made a soft, pleasant, purring sound deep in her throat as I nibbled softly on her ear, and nuzzled the back of her neck.

The orange light from the mercury vapor dock lights shining through the blinds made a mosaic of light and shadow across her naked body.

I lightly flicked my tongue across the smooth skin of her back, slowly making my way downward, and pausing to pay special attention to the little dimples just above her hips.

"Mmmm. I'll give you about two hours to stop that."

"Miss Binx, that just might not be enough time."

"Oh, my," she sighed softly. "I could get spoiled rotten this way."

I nipped the underside of her left buttock with my teeth, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a small jump.

"Just didn't want you to forget I was here," I said, as I licked the small spot I had just bitten.

"Not," she gasped, "Much danger of that."

As I licked my way down the backs of her long legs, her hips began to move in a rhythm older than time. When I kissed the small hollows at the backs of her knees, she shivered. I continued my explorations down over her well toned calves, to her well pedicured feet.

As I sucked her toes into my mouth one at a time, she giggled, and asked, "Are you one of those guys who like feet?"

"I am one of those guys who like every single part of the right girl. And I don't discriminate against feet," I said, and kissed the bottom of her left foot. "Now, it is time," I said.

"Time for what?" she asked, stretching like a contented cat.

"Time," I said with a grin, "To do the other side."

"Oh, my."

As she rolled onto her back, I straddled her beautiful body, leaned down and kissed her hard. She arched up against me, her nipples hard little points against my chest. I reluctantly pulled away from the deep kiss, and began the agonizingly slow trip downward. I circled each of her nipples with my tongue, before licking them each softly, and blowing my warm breath on them. They hardened even more.

"Bite them," she growled, grinding her pelvis up against my stomach.

Bite them I did, and she threw her head back and howled, locking her legs around my body like a vice. I felt her juices coating my stomach, and smelled the sweet, pungent aroma of her sex. I knew I had to taste her.

"Binx, I want to eat you."

"Good," she groaned.

"Yes Binxie, it's good, but you have to let go with your legs, because I can't move, dear."

"Good," she groaned again. Her movements against me became more frantic and her grip tightened.

"Binx," I gasped, "I can't breathe dear. You have to turn loose now."

She seemed to come back from wherever she was long enough to loosen her grip on me and let me slide down between her legs.

The soft dusting of red pubic hair was soaked and matted. She smelled heavenly. I licked her with long steady strokes, punctuated with nibbling and sucking of her clit. She was breathing hard, and grinding her pussy into my mouth for all she was worth. I pushed her knees open, and back almost to her chest, leaving her open, and vulnerable to the onslaught of my tongue. She was close to coming, but I wasn't ready to push her over the edge quite yet. I licked downward sharply.

She gasped, "You know where you're licking right?"

"Yes, Binx, I told you I like every part of the right girl indiscriminately."

"Just," she moaned loudly, "Checking."

I licked her asshole again. She gasped, and pulled her legs higher and wider for me. I pressed my pointed tongue deep into her ass, and she made a long soft keening sound that was music to my ears. She grabbed my head and pushed me away roughly. She tossed me onto my back with a strength I never would have guessed she had.

She straddled my hips and sank down onto my cock in one fluid motion, and then froze there, breath held, suspended in time. She exhaled explosively, and began to ride me, at a frenzied pace, eyes turned toward the ceiling. The dock lights shone on the thin film of sweat coating both of us, as she rode up and down on my cock like a trip hammer, or a half crazed merry-go-round pony. I felt my balls contract, and new it would not be long. Just then, she growled like a she-wolf and lunged down against me, fastening her teeth on my right nipple, and we both came with animalistic howls fit to split the storm clouds overhead.

She fell asleep on top of me like that, with me still inside her. The rain beat down on the deck above. I was glad to have her there.

I awoke alone around noon to a very loud silence. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and stumbled out into the light. I found fresh coffee made, but no Binx. I felt I should be happy about that. A fabulous one night stand with no regrets or awkward morning after being the kind of thing guys are supposed to live for, but somehow I felt a little sad that she was not there.

Then I heard it. The unmistakable bump bumping of bare feet topside. I rushed up the companionway into the big center cockpit, stubbing my toe on a loose wench handle on the way and hopping most ungracefully on one foot to the bench behind the big destroyer type wheel that was the helm of my little home. There she was, gracefully reclined on one of the big side benches wearing my old terrycloth robe, basking in the warm Florida sun, with a big cup of steaming coffee in her hands, and an amused eye turned toward me.

"Happy to see me?" she grinned.

I grinned back at her, "No, not at all. I just thought you might be, a prowler. Or something."

I sat down on the bench behind her, and gathered her in close, and looked down the pier.

"There he is," I said.

"Who?"

"The guy you were looking for last night. The guy you thought might help you find whatever you lost."

She followed my gaze down the pier. The tall, sunburned man was carrying his meager luggage up the gangway. He looked a bit battered, and was walking with a limp.

She smiled up at me and said, "I think I might have found something better than what I lost."

"Miss Binx, do you have any plans for the immediate future?"

"What did you have in mind?" she leered, eyeing my crotch.

"I was thinking of a little cruise through the Keys, and over to the Bahamas, although I have no objections to what you obviously have in mind."

"That sounds fabulous, dear, but for right now, it seems to me that you spoiled me so last night, that you might have gotten shortchanged. I think it's time for me to take you back down to that huge bed, and see exactly how crazy I can drive you."

So back bellow we went, but that is another story all together.

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