It’s a fact. The oldest Lutheran Church in the Western hemisphere is located in the Virgin Islands. Lutherans, you say? I can understand Catholics, or even Church-of-England; but Lutherans? Lutherans belong in Wisconsin, not the Lesser Antilles!
The Danes settled the place in 1666, hence, the Lutherans. So, the architecture is more Hamlet, than Harry S. Truman. Still, the AVI’s are as American as apple pie, at least from a paperwork standpoint. And, that’s why I was docked at the Crown Bay Marina.
I had sailed a Beneteau 58 down the inter-costal and across the Leewards, all the way from Washington, DC. The boat was expensive. But I could afford it. The best part was I could always up anchor and move, if the neighbors annoyed me.
The Beneteau is an excellent craft, comfortable, beautifully appointed and easy to handle; if you know your way around a cruiser. Solo-sailing wasn’t a challenge for me. My old man put me on a sunfish at age six; which was over a half-century ago.
My deck hand’s name is Buster. His mom must have had one hell of night; Labradors, Pit-Pulls and American Bulldogs, all lining up to take their turn. Buster’s big, brown, smelly and he slobbers. But, he’s my staunchest friend; utterly loyal, devoted and the best side-kick a guy could ever ask for.
We talk in the dark-hours. I’ll sit with three fingers of cheap scotch in an old jelly glass and share my thoughts. He’ll cock his head back and forth, as if to say, “Yeah, I get it boss. Life ain’t easy.” He’s a former street dog; he knows these things.
I’d changed a lot since my personal day of reckoning. The slightly overweight and pasty me, was now a white-haired hunk of brown rawhide. Nobody in my old life would recognize me now. I was just a solitary old boat-bum, with his dog.
It’s hot in the Leewards and I was sweating gallons. I needed a beer, so I pulled on a t-shirt and strolled down the dock to Tickles. That place has all the charm of a shopping-mall TGI-Friday’s, but it has the advantage of being less than 100-yards from my slip.
They let Buster sit in the walkway, just off the property line. He’d lie there panting and drooling, love and trust in his eyes, while I tossed him scraps. That kind of thing would get a tourist kicked out. But I was a regular. So, the owners turned a blind eye.
I ordered a beer from the twenty-something hottie, waiting on the outdoor customers. It was one of those days when the ever-present anguish and world-weariness got the best of me. My mind wandered back to the beginning.
Every love story has a beginning. Mine began when I was eight.
Kate lived down the block and we played together. We were always a little “different.” We’d spend our time inside, reading, talking and drawing while the rest of the kids were running around outside. The others were aggressive, constantly in motion. They shouted-over each other. Kate was as quiet and shy as I was. It would be creepy to use the word “attraction.” More correctly, we preferred being alone together.
We were the same age and lived on the same block. Thus, we were always in the same class. Our last names were close, alphabetically; so, most years we sat next to each other. You would think that our inseparability would wear thin, but the opposite happened. We were only happy with each other. That wasn’t a conscious decision. It was innate, something that was just THERE. We never questioned the feeling.
Then puberty hit. We helped each other through THAT ultra-confusing time. In two years; I went from being geeky and scrawny, to being geeky, but the biggest kid in the class. Kate went from being a tiny little nerd-girl, to a tiny little nerd-girl with huge, perfect tits. Meanwhile, her hips and butt rounded into womanly curves. She was mortified by the changes.
Kate had always been the classic girl-next-door; big hazel eyes and a cute oval face, a pointed chin and perfectly proportioned features framed by long naturally wavy chestnut hair. Now she looked like the twenty-four-year-old girl next door. That difference posed problems.
That was about the time they started holding dances. We were so self-conscious that we’d only dance with each other. Our bond was more intellectual than physical, but still, the pains of adolescence forced us to accept our transformation. I would feel her hard, little body and big soft boobs moving on my chest. She must have felt my giant boner poking her leg. It made us painfully aware that things were different. It was agonizing.
We began to explore those differences in innocent ways. One Saturday afternoon we were playing a multiplayer online game. We had just dispatched a particularly troublesome Orc and Kate threw her arms around me in celebration. Our faces were inches apart. She looked at me. I looked at her, and we kissed.
We kissed all the time growing up, but it was innocent stuff. This time, there was no mistaking the passion. It was an adult kiss. We mashed our lips together and held it for a count of ten. Then we broke apart, startled, panting like bloodhounds on a Mississippi porch.
I said, “What was that?” Kate looked as confused as I was.
She said, “Did you mean it?”
I nodded, “Did you?”
She said, “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
So, we graduated from being childhood pals. The intimacy of swapping tongues only added to our union. But, we were still so repressed that we were stranded at first base. We even had guilt pangs about going THAT far.
We entered high school, that fall. Kate was the sensation of the freshman class. It was a Catholic school, so we had to wear uniforms. The short, pleated skirt made it impossible for her to disguise her lithe, long-waisted body with its round hips and beautiful legs. The simple blue cardigan over her white blouse showcased the swell of her big perfect tits. Even I was surprised at how developed she had become.
Every player in the school wanted to put Kate in his trophy case. A more social girl would have reveled in the attention. But, it was excruciating for her. She may have looked like a Victoria’s Secret Angel. But, she was a shy, sweet, gentle soul without any social pretensions whatsoever. Plus, we were both agonizingly introverted.
It was the same with me. I was bigger than most of the guys and not bad looking. But as far as I was concerned, Kate was my only friend. I didn’t have to do stupid things to get peer approval; I was the guy with Kate. I didn’t need to go pussy hunting; I had already bagged the prize. The other girls could never compete with Kate. None of the boys wanted to get on the bad side of a fellow as big as me. In that respect, her beauty and my size worked in our favor. All I cared about was Kate. All she cared about was me, so the equation balanced. Eventually, everybody backed off and left us alone.
It all seems so improbable now. But, it never crossed our minds that we WOULDN’T be together, forever. Nobody meets their soul-mate, at age eight, and smoking-hot girls, who just happen to be totally devoted to you, only exist in fairy tales. Nonetheless, both our families were solid, and stable. We had internalized their humble and unassuming values, and all we wanted was to live like they did.
We were both college-bound and, of course, we wanted to go to the same school. Kate was going to study medicine and I wanted an MBA. The best place to find both degrees was at the big university up-state.
The only frontier yet to be negotiated, was the consummation of our love. As usual, we were hesitant to cross that line. You would think that a girl with a hot body would want to have it touched. I knew that there were infinite wells of passion down there, but we were both so repressed that we never came close to tapping into it.
It took the Fourth of July and impending college to make the breakthrough. We had both turned eighteen, and I was painfully aware that we would soon be leaving for school, but I wanted reassurance. I grabbed a big blanket and headed for Kate’s house.
Our city has a remarkable Fourth of July fireworks show. Most of the people are downtown, or out on the lake in boats. But, the rockets burst in front of the hill looming over the town. It’s secluded and peaceful up there, far away from the crowds. That was where I planned to take Kate. I had scouted around the week before and found a good spot.
I stashed the blanket in the trunk of my new TR-4. Both our families were affluent. That was part of the reason Kate and I had gotten together as playmates. Her dad was a doctor and her mother was a hospital administrator. My dad owned a small electronics firm. His company specialized in micro-electronic controllers. It was a niche market, but he did very well. Neither Kate, nor I, wanted for anything.
Kate was always late for our dates. Some guys would find that exasperating. As far as I was concerned, it was an endearing quality. We weren’t going to do anything more than watch the fireworks. But, Kate treated each date like the senior prom, so it took her forever to decide what to wear.
I talked with her dad while I waited. I told him that I was preparing to follow in my old-man’s footsteps, since he owned the company. But I knew that I needed a lot of seasoning. Getting a bachelor’s in business, and an MBA, would be the first step.
My Pop was a man-among-men. After he got out of the Navy, he started building custom boards for industrial controllers. It was something he learned as a combat systems technician on a destroyer. He did it in our garage. His work was brilliant and meticulous. As a result, he started getting contracts from defense suppliers.
.... There is more of this story ...