The white hulled fifty-foot cruiser looked beautiful as the morning sun cast its spell over her teak deck. Alexa slipped off her canvas deck shoes and stepped up through the side gate in the railing. The soft teak under her bare feet brought a stunning smile to her face as she turned towards John.
Stepping onboard behind her, he watched the smile of a true sailor. It thrilled him to have her all to himself. His invitation had taken him by surprise, but in retrospect had been inevitable. Because of their complex relationship in the workplace, he'd never allowed himself to imagine more, but over lunch on Tuesday his mind had not been subject to the same stringent controls.
He headed down the steps into the saloon, powered everything on and listened as the hum of the boat came to life. Packed with food, immaculate and ready to go, he reminded himself why he paid his crewman to live on board. His crewman enjoyed weekends ashore as much as he himself enjoyed taking Wind Dancer to sea. They didn't meet often and the arrangement was perfect for them both.
In white sports shorts and tee, Alexa explored the beautiful boat. Noting the positions of lines and equipment, she toured her paradise for the weekend. She'd agreed to an entire weekend on board. In theory, it put her in a vulnerable position, but she trusted John. Since his generous invitation to sail with him, she'd allowed herself to admit how much she liked him.
“Ready to cast off?” he called as she walked back down the port side.
She'd cast off her shorts and tee as Wind Dancer had cruised at five knots across the ocean. Lying back on the cushioned cockpit seating in only her aqua triangle bikini, she'd been admiring him in command of his boat. She'd caught him admiring her bum when she'd been bent over the capstan, reeling in the jib. She hadn't minded one bit. The heat of his gaze had encouraged her to strip down to her tiny bikini.
She looked up at him behind the wheel in only blue swim shorts. She'd admired his muscular legs in the car this morning, but now, steady on the deck, they were a fresh pleasure. His bare tanned chest, already speckled with dry sea salt, held her gaze.
Catching her watching, he looked her dead in the eye, his eyes posing a firm question.
“I like a man in control,” she said, smiling.
“I know.”
She laughed. “Yes, better than most. How do you feel about punishing the two of us?”
“I respect you both for the high standards you demand from yourselves.”
“And?” she asked.
He met her eyes. “I enjoy watching you both choose to be obedient when it's hard. Seeing you bend over in your underwear is pleasurable, even though it's for hard punishment.”
She smiled. “I wouldn't want you to dislike it.”
“No chance of that. You always have the cutest panties.”
Her smile widened to a grin. It was all the confirmation she needed. “Are you into me?”
“Yes. For longer than I realized.”
“Good,” she said. “I wouldn't want to have read the signals wrong.”
Watching him work the wheel was even more pleasurable entertainment, knowing he wanted her.
“Ready about,” he called.
She jumped up, positioned herself near the starboard jib line, and called, “Ready.”
“Helms alee,” he called.
She released the line and ducked under the boom as it swung across the boat. Jumping over to the port capstan, she wound it to tighten the jib, her powerful arms competing against the wind on the sail.
Locking off the line as Wind Dancer picked up speed, she looked ahead at a tiny cove she could only just make out in the distance. “Is that where we're heading?”
“Yes. It should be beautiful and calm once we pass the headland.”
She went to sit on the foredeck to observe their progress. Slower on the jib than she'd have liked, she imagined him calling her to the wheel for a strict scolding. Locking the wheel in place to keep the boat steady, he ordered her to kneel on the seating. Her face in the wind, she obeyed him, lowered her bikini bottoms and accepted his hard hand on her slow bottom. As salty spray swept over the foredeck and showered her face, she smiled. She wouldn't have minded a bit.
As they dropped the sails and motored into the cove in the late afternoon sun, the only other yacht was weighing anchor. Having the cove to themselves wrapped her in a special sense of peace. Something was going to happen with John tonight. The tension was palpable.
On command, she dropped the anchor, locking it off when he ordered. Walking back towards the wheelhouse, she said, “I'm going to take a shower, then I'll make us dinner.”
“Sounds great,” he smiled, grabbing his book and heading to the bow.
Teasing the salt from her hair, she was conscious of the amount of water she was using. Fresh water was a scarce resource on board. Any sailor worth his salt would cringe at her prolonged shower.
He'd shown her to the crew cabin in the bow and she'd left her backpack there, but it wasn't where she expected to sleep. Given their conversation, he must have expected she might join him in the aft master. Soaping herself for a second time to ensure her shower was plenty long enough, she turned off the water and stepped out to dry herself.
His footsteps in the main lounge sounded like he was pacing. She admired her bare bottom in the mirror and smiled; he'd make sure it was red before bed.
She hovered over her backpack and chose hot-pink bikini panties with ice cream sandwiches. He'd said he liked her cute panties. Good job she'd packed a selection. Adding a bright pink bra, she chose soft black cotton shorts and a fresh white tee. On the outside a clean sailor girl, beneath she smoldered in hot-pink.
Emerging into the galley, she switched on the oven and hunted out the pork sausages she'd spied earlier. Nothing fed sailors like sausages. Growing up, her twenty-two-foot sport cruiser didn't have a galley. She'd had to swim ashore and barbecue them on the beach.
“Good shower?” he asked, emerging from the master cabin in short black shorts and a loose blue tee.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Next time, half as long, please. The water tanks are 140 gallons, but it goes quicker than you think.”
“Sorry,” she said, ashamed.
As he passed through to the main saloon, a smile crept over her face. It was the firm telling-off she'd hoped for.
Adding creamy mashed potato and peas to the sausages, she carried the plates through to the table, joined him on the slate blue cushioned seating and tucked in, more hungry than she'd realized.
“About that shower,” she said, putting down her fork. “I'm sorry. It was thoughtless.”