She leaned over me. Her breasts pressed innocently against my back. "Think you've found the problem Steve?"
"Yea, I do. Just hand me the small phillips."
She retrieved the screwdriver from the box on the table and passed the tool to my outstretched hand. Again her breasts snuggled against my spine. I leaned further to unfasten the hose clamp on the water system, thinking it best to ignore the breasts. I'd had this happen before. I assume all men have. Women "accidentally" touch their breasts against your back, arm or chest and act as if there is no contact. They seem to dare you to take action. Often I'd been completely shocked at the "pressers"--wives of bosses or best friends wives, even coworkers. Fitting the screwdriver, I applied pressure and felt the screw loosen. I also felt her hand on my protruding butt.
Startled, I reared, hitting my head on the hatch cover and stabbing my left hand with the screwdriver. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to upset you. I'll get a bandage." The breasts and hand departed.
She patched my bleeding finger, and without comment, I returned to the job. The breasts returned to my back and the hand to my ass. I shouldn't be upset, I thought; she's a damn-fine looking woman. But, I was. I wildly searched my computer-like mind for the politically correct thing to do. As usual computer-mind failed me, and I decided to do nothing. Worse, that old beggar Beauregard stiffened in my pants and sent messages to computer-mind that he was actually enjoying the situation. Somehow, I managed to remove the clamp, clean the drain and reassemble the fixture. As I finished, the hand caressed my cheeks. I could feel one finger trace the crack of my ass from top to bottom. "We come as a package you know. He greatly relies on my recommendations," she said with her lips brushing my ear.
I climbed to my feet and turned to her. At that moment, the unmistakable sounds of my wife and her husband returning to the boat came down the companionway hatch of the 40-foot sloop. She grinned at my embarrassment and went up the ladder. I hesitated, unsure what to do, then noticed Beau had relaxed, so I too went up the ladder.
My wife Linda and I had flown to New York City to meet my old college roommate Jay and his wife Jane. Jay and I had been inseparable roommates in college. At first we had been wary of each other. Hell, the boy's speech was practically intelligible and he ate god-awful things such as hard biscuits called bagels and a sandwich with the unlikely name of "submarine." I introduced him to the better things in life such as red eye gravy, Tennessee style barbecue, moonshine whiskey and, of course, the South's finest product—beautiful women. Soon it was evident that we would be the best of friends forever. We did all the usual idiot-college- boy stuff—got drunk on cheap whisky, got sick on cheap whisky, dated the same women, got dumped by the same women for being too crude etc. Our favorite entertainment, however, was trading insults. The war of succession was not over, I remind him as often as possible. Just put on hold.
Jay and I had kept track of each other for years. We had both married and the two couples met often on vacations and various business meetings. Now Jay owned a small manufacturing firm, which had developed software to track the assembly process of the electrical component he sold. I operated a management consultant firm, which specialized in computer networks. I needed his software. He needed my skilled network engineering staff to go worldwide. If we combined companies, we could potentially realize excellent profits.
Jay had suggested that Linda and I fly to New York and sail with them up Long Island Sound. He and I could discuss the philosophy of the pending agreement and, at the same time, ensure that we were actually doing the right thing. Friendship is one thing but we couldn't allow it to cloud our business judgment. This had to be a business decision. What the hell, I'd thought--off to Yankee land. I had never been clear as to exactly where dinky little states like Connecticut and Rhode Island were anyway; so this was a chance to have fun and close the deal safely out of the clutches of his and my lawyers.
Linda and I had landed at La Guarda airport where Jay and Jane waited. "Yankee bastard," I hollered and made a move to jab him in the balls He countered by dodging my hand and shot two fingers towards my eyes, "Rebel redneck." I invoked a classic Three Stooges defense with my hand between my eyes. "Children, children," Linda screamed as she and Jane pulled us apart. Unfortunately women understand little of the Zen of Stooges combat techniques.
"See you're still pretty slow 'roomie, '" Jay grinned at me as we went to search for our bags.
Jay is about six feet two, and as usual his dark bushy hair was uncombed. I did see some streaks of gray invading the tangled mop. (Good material for later insults, which I filed with computer mind.) Jane, however, is in a class all by herself. The first time I met her was when she and Jay came to visit us in Tampa. I estimated her height as five feet eleven. She is a "big women." She isn't fat—there's just a lot of her. I stand six feet even, and it's rare a woman looks me almost straight in the eye. Not only is she tall, she's an exquisitely striking woman, the kind men openly stare at on the street. She has the "bombshell" type body reminiscent of the movie stars of the 50's. Short brown hair, liquid brown eyes went well with her large frame, flared hips and large breasts. We discussed tennis, which was her favorite sport when not sailing. She's an excellent athlete with powerful shoulders and a slim waist and on top of it all very intelligent. And if anything, she always speaks her mind. Not a shy bone in her body. I had come to like her as well as Jay. Linda who is five two often commented that when we all got together, she felt she had arrived in the land of the giants.
After walking through endless corridors, all under construction, (This airport has been her a long time. Aren't they ever going to finish it?), we found Jay's car and immediately set out for the marina at City Island, just off Hempstead Bay.
We boarded their sloop and squared away our gear. Soon we all sat topside enjoying an excellent Cabernet while watching the sun drift slowly down the Western sky. Linda had volunteered to do some on board cooking, so she and Jay set out for the local grocery store to procure items that could not go into our suitcase. I relaxed on deck still talking to Jane. She had gone below for something while I relaxed on the deck. The western sky turned purple with gold bands arching from a dying sun. I leaned back against the cockpit coming and felt good about life, a sense of power, of being in control, the world at me feet—I stood held up my glass to toast the gods—my mind wandered...
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Ah yes. Ozy and I. Masters or our domain and all we survey...
"Steve help," Jane's shriek sounded from the hatch." The damn sink is plugged again and overflowing. I quickly dropped my reverie and went below. "It's supposed to drain into the holding tank, but usually doesn't. Jay just pulls off the hose clamp and removes whatever I wasn't supposed to put down the drain. Suppose you could do that? "
"No problem." Ozymandias, now deflated, dropped to his knees amidst a sticky mixture of lemon rinds, cheese bits and coffee grounds. The great ruler probably never contemplated the complexities of clogged drains. Yes, there was more to the poem—
Nothing beside remains.
Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'
I suspected that that fool Shelley also never knew the joys of plumbing.
That's when the trouble had started.
Now, with Linda and Jay clambering over the rails, I was relieved. Sex is a wonderful thing, but this is Jay's wife. Not just any wife in the world; she's "roomies" wife. With all of us aboard, the cramped quarters would preclude any further advances.
I was wrong. The tidal currents from Hells Gate helped, and we quickly moved into the Middle Sound. Sailing towards New England we soon passed under Throgs Neck Bridge heading towards Oyster Bay. I was enjoying the spectacular scenery and Jane was enjoying me. Unaccountably, her breasts kept bumping into me. She also seemed to have trouble keeping her footing in the gentle chop. Her hands always sought me for help. I decided to play the gentleman and made no protest, glad Linda did not know of Jane's intentions.
Wrong again. "Apparently you have an admirer?" Linda whispered into my ear as we lay that evening in our bunk. We were at anchor in Oyster Bay and had turned in at about 11 o'clock.
"So you noticed."
"Couldn't help it. Her hands are all over you. Didn't see too much resistance?"
"I'm not sure what to do. All these years, and now this. Do you think he's noticed?"
"I'm not sure. Oh well, just don't enjoy it too much. Not much can happen on this little boat."
"Just don't you and Jay leave me alone with her again." I told her about fixing the drain and Jane's breasts and the hand.
"Your such an idiot, but an honest idiot. Most men wouldn't bother to mention that little detail. But you did enjoy her little games didn't you?" I felt her hand slip into my shorts, and she brushed her fingertips over Beau, now standing at strict attention. "Yes, there's my answer," she whispered while putting her tongue into my ear. I guiltily thought of Jane's lips in the same place earlier that day.
"Look", she said. "Let's play this by ear. Jay can't be this dumb."
The next day's sail was one of the most interesting I've ever experienced. We sailed across the Sound to Darien then through the Norwark islands. The wind was a brisk 20 knots and the sloop proved lively and responsive to the helm. Unlike Florida sailing, we wore foul weather gear and we passed through rainstorms and plowed through the chop. I admired Yankee land, and Jane continued her games.
Jane also watched and listened attentively as Jay and I discussed the general terms of the merger. Often, she made excellent suggestions. Still, each time I went below, she arranged to be there. Once as I exited our bunk area, she motioned to me to stop. "I think you two are making excellent progress. I' m looking forward to working with you."
"Thanks Jane." I agreed. "You've had some excellent suggestions."
"Thanks. He'll rely on my thoughts before we do anything."
"Well, I hope you're having happy thoughts." Damn, I thought. I may regret that statement.
"I'm happy--so far. But I could be happier. I'd like to give him the go ahead before we finish the sail." With that, she leaned forward and kissed me. Again I was startled by her size. I'd never had a woman kiss me straight ahead like that. Before I could respond, (exactly how did I intend to respond, I wondered?) she was topside. Hell, I thought, this can't go on. No help as usual, Beau began to squirm in my shorts.
We anchored that night near Bridgeport Connecticut. Each couple took a turn below showering and changing clothes.
"I guess you've noticed," I said to Linda when we alone below.
"Yes, I'm surprised you haven't charged her with rape. Jay can't have missed all this. I guess he doesn't mind."
"If he doesn't, I don't."
"Remember our new rule." She was referring, of course, to a trip we had taken last year with our old friends Maggie and Roger. After years of monogamous marriage, we had participated in an "adult weekend sail" with our two friends. That's the indirect way of saying that the two couples had gone sailing and fucked each other's wife or husband, depending on the point of view. Linda and I had agreed that single affairs were not for us, because it was dishonest and cheating. With Maggie and Roger, it had been just for fun. And of course we had been back together with them but did not consider ourselves in a monogamous swapping situation—if that makes any sense.
In the dinghy, we motored to dinner at Black Rock Harbor. The restaurant served excellent Maine lobsters, plus we partook of an interesting Fume Blanc. I thoroughly enjoyed the dinner in spite of Linda mentioning the fat content of the lobster and butter dip. I secretly devoured extra portions of delicious Yankee versions of hush puppies when she went to the ladies room, and just for good measure and ladled extra butter on my roll. I don't' cheat on my wife but...
"Honey, I think it is time for a decision. You and Steve should stop discussing minutia and agree that the merger will go forward," Jane surprised us all as she held up her wineglass. "To the formation of the new company, whatever we are going to call it."
I looked at Steve. He looked at me. Linda said, "You've got my vote."
"A deal," said Jay.
"A deal," I said.
Relived, I enjoyed my lobster and even managed not to spill butter on my pants. We had a second bottle of wine followed with aperitifs and coffee. Yankee food isn't too bad, I mused.
Beau was in pain, so I rose to go to the rest room and to my dismay Jane followed. 'Wait," she said when we were out of sight of Jay and Linda. "I know I've been giving you a hard time, but there's no strings attached. I've just had some fun flirting. You're under no obligation to screw your new partner's wife to get the merger. I think I just showed that tonight."
"I was kind of nervous. After all, Jay is right there all day.
"He's a brilliant businessman and a wonderful husband, but I swear, the man is almost oblivious sometimes. I've never cheated on him, but I could've many times, and he'd never notice. Of course, Linda probably saw everything. I suppose she hates me."
"No, she's a good sport. She knows nothing serious happened."
"Well, I apologize. Nothing exciting ever happens to me. We've made all this money-- I've never had an affair--I love sex-- I'm not going to have an affair--I'm bored. I'll apologize to Linda. Does this make sense?"
"No, but I'm relieved. I was dreading having to see you in the future."
"Do you think I'm fat? I'm so tall. I hate it. Linda is so cute."
God I hate these questions women pose. There are no answers. Beau stiffened at the thought of... of what. We had just straightened out the flirting problem. I assumed it was over. Now I stood with a stiff prick, highly attracted to this Amazon and... what. What should I say? Why not the truth.
"I think you're one sexy hunk of woman. If I wasn't married..."
"That's enough. Thanks." She started to the ladies room, then turned, "If I wasn't married I'd show you what it's like to have a woman my size."
Beau was now in extreme pain, and I almost ran to the men's room and back to the table and the safety of Linda. She must have seen the distressed look on my face and signaled to the waiter to bring me a brandy. "Still after you," she whispered.
"Well yes and no."
"Poor Stevie. Do I have to get you some suppressants for that overactive penis of yours."
"Maybe so, we have two days left on this sail."
That night in our bunk I breathed to Linda, "Jane kind of apologized for her behavior and maybe that's the end of it."
"Sure Steve. She's horny as she can be."
"Yea, but that's Jay's wife, I can't...
"So if it was someone else's wife you could?"
"No, that's not what I meant."
"Jay and I were inseparable in college. We did a lot of rotten and obscene things, but I never then or later went after another man's wife. Except maybe..."
"There was that college professor's wife. But that was different."
"She went after Jay, and he shared her with me. We didn't go after her. Damn she was good. I think the professor knew, but didn't care. She sure taught me a lot, like the time..."
"Think I've heard enough of this. College boys must be the most amoral, crudest people in the world."
"Thanks, I accept the compliment. Now, there was the time I traded Jay a girlfriend for a carburetor job. He's such a good mechanic, and she..."
"Bottom line is I'll kill the deal before I do anything with Jane that would hurt Jay. Even if he is a dammed Yankee."
The next day's sail was another thrill. We had a 15-knot wind from the northeast, which allowed us to race southeast towards Port Jefferson on Long Island. Directly east of Port Jefferson we eased into Pirate's Cove. Protected on all sides by the high bluffs of Mount Misery we dropped the hook and made fast.
We made dinner aboard that evening. I prepared a Morney sauce to grace the smoked duck we had brought. I like to cook, and had to endure Jay's harassment as he watched my every move, quieted only when he actually admitted that my sauce was excellent. While I cooked, he displayed his usual flair for bar tending and kept our glasses filled with dark rum diluted with tonic and fresh limes.
It began to get cold. I was used to Florida sailing and had never seen a boat heater. Jay lit the odd, copper monster, and warmth soon filled the cabin. Of course, to keep from asphyxiating ourselves, we kept the hatch cracked and at least one port open. The duck was accompanied by an excellent California cabernet sauvignon followed by a second bottle a delightful Australian Shiraz merlot. "Damn Steve, I have to admit that cheese sauce was pretty good. What was it cheddar?"
"Damn son, I've wasted all these years trying you educate your Yankee brain—it was a sauce Bechmel with English Stilton which made it a sauce mornay. Ain't no cheddar in my sauces you uneducated Yank."
"Sure you didn't throw some grits into it just..."
"Gentlemen, guess that's not exactly the right term, but the nights still young, How about some trivial pursuit," I heard Linda say. All agreed, so we lowered the dining table to the level of the settees and rearranged the cushions to create one big playing surface or bed, which reached from one side of the boat to the other. Sitting on the cushions cross-legged we formed a circle and spread the board.
Jane and I squared off against Jay and Linda. I enjoyed the glow of good food, good wine, a completed deal and, I had to admit, some amount of inflated ego at being pursued by a good-looking woman like Jane. Soon, the heater made the cabin unbearable, and Jay rose to turn it off. Within thirty minutes, we were again cold. Jay went for find matches. "Hang on Jay. I have an idea. We all looked at Linda. Let's get blankets and wrap up. I hate the smell of that nasty heater."
Jane retrieved blankets, while Jay opened another bottle of wine. The four of us managed to wrap the blankets around us and sat hunched in a circle. Immediately, I could feel the tremendous heat emanating from Jane's body as she and I shared a blanket. Jay and Linda wrapped themselves in another, and we added two more blankets to fill the spaces between the two couples.
It became obvious that we couldn't use the board, so it was tossed to the floor in favor of the wine bottle and the question cards. The plastic wineglasses were also jettisoned, and we asked questions while drinking wine from the bottle. Scoring became incidental and the game confusing.
Jane drew a card, "Who wrote Peter Rabbit?" Linda and Jay looked at each other and shrugged. Jane and I cackled over their helplessness.
"I have no idea of the answer, but here's one for all of you. Who has their hand on my boob?" said Linda.
"Not me," I said.
Not me," echoed Jay.
"Well I guess that leaves you Jane." I leered at her.
"No way, if I'm going to grab something under these blankets, it's not going to be a boob. There's a lot more interesting things under here."
Linda put her head under the blanket, "Oh, what do you know, it's my hand playing with myself."
"Oh honey. Two male goons sitting here and you have to do it yourself," laughed Jane with a look of glee on her face.
"Lets make the game more interesting. Next time a couple loses, the female member of the asking team gets to touch the male of her choice under the blankets," Linda said. I shot a look at Jay and saw a surprised expression. Linda winked at me.
"I'm ready to whip your ass anyway Rebel conspirator," said Jay.
"You're on carpetbagger," I shot back.
"Wonderful idea Linda. This game's boring so far," said Jane.
There was no further discussion, so Jane drew another card. "Ok, we will do away with the Peter Rabbit one. What's the capitol of Belgium?" I knew Linda knew the answer as we had been there. But she looked to Jay.
"Hell, Amsterdam I guess, " he looked at Linda.
"Yep, that's our answer Amsterdam," said Linda. Strange, she had blow it.
"Wrong, Brussels, we win." Jane turned to me and moved her face until her lips were a scant inch from mine. "Let's see, so many intriguing possibilities to touch."
This had all gone pretty fast. I could feel her breath, as she seemed to mull her choices of spots to violate my body. "I know," she cooed, "right here." Jay jumped as if he had been shot. Somehow Jane had managed to grab him instead of me. "Sorry honey, did I touch you too hard." Jane turned from me to look at Jay who sat with his mouth open.
I looked to Linda who laughed so hard she had fallen to the deck. Jay grinned and took another swig of wine.
"You missed so here's another question." Jane drew another card. "What's a one horned whale called?"
This time they were truly stumped. "A horny whale?" ventured Linda. Jay agreed.
"Wrong again it's a Narwhal," whooped Jane. "Love you Linda. We can play this game all night."
"Thought you might like it." Linda said to Jane, but smiled at me.
Again Jane moved close to me, and I felt her hand on my face. Her finger crossed my face from ear to ear then slipped into my mouth. I closed on the finger and gave it a gentile suck. I heard Jane sigh as she removed the finger.
"To heck with the rules, our turn," said Linda. She grabbed the cards. "Now here's a good one. What's the chemical composition of Muriatic Acid." I knew, of course, having poured gallons into my pools over the years. All Florida pool owners know that one. Jane being a Yankee had no idea.
"Sounds like eyedrops." She looked at me helplessly.
"NaCl" I lied."
"Wrong, wrong, wrong," Linda crowed while she smiled at me with a, 'I know you were fibbing look.' Without hesitation, she turned to Jay and I heard him exhale as her hand moved under the blanket towards his crotch.
What I thought. Already. Just like that my wife touched Jay's... where... whatever?
Jane put her head under the circle of blankets, "Ohhhwee Linda. That looks like fun. Think my husband likes it."
" I can guarantee he does," said Linda. "We need another question and another, uh prize. Jay draws the card, and if the question is missed, the winning lady gets to direct the man of her choice to take off his pants."
So calm my wife. So unlike her, I thought.
"Yeww, this is going to be a great partnership," Jane turned and kissed me. I was confused over the rules, but the ladies seemed to have it well in hand.
Jay drew a card, "An easy one. Who killed Cock Robin?" I had no idea and looked to Jane. She shrugged, " I don't know too much about cocks—the bear?"
" Wrong, the sparrow." Ok, Jay, off with your pants," Linda directed.
"Wait," Jay protested, "I thought I won?"
"No Jay, I won. You're the man of my choice."
"Don't be so impolite Linda. You need to help him," came from a giggling Jane.
All of us, except Jay, put our heads under the blankets, and I watched as my wife pulled the string on Jay's jogging suit and helped pull them over his knees and feet. It wasn't difficult to see that Jay was sporting a respectable lump in his underwear.
"I'm filing a EOT suit," I said. "These rules are biased in favor of women. Let's change teams. Boys against the girls."
Jay gave a, "Damn straight." The women shrugged.
"Now ladies," I continued, " If you don't get this right, one of us gets to feel the boobs of the lady of his choice. What famous baseball player was know as the Georgia Peach?"
'Wait, ' said Jane, "what's the prize if we get it right?"
"We take off an article of clothing."
"Good, Ty Cobb." Damn, I'd forgotten Jane was a sports nut.
Jay removed his jogging top and sat in only underwear and socks. I pulled off my pants while the ladies put their heads under the blankets and laughed.
"New rules, you have to answer two in a row--same bet," I said. Wails of protest did no good, as I quickly ruffled through the cards to find a hard one. "What flavor was Tricia Nixon's 350 pound wedding cake?""
"Lemon." said Linda. Give me those undies Jay.
Jay and I shared gulps of wine. "How the heck did you know that? I asked Linda.
"I just know things honey. Ready Jane? Let's watch. Both put their heads under Jay's blanket. I looked at Jay. He rolled his eyes, then began to struggle with his underwear under the blankets. "Wow, Jane, that's really nice," said Linda.
"So pleased you like it honey. Now your hubby."
I did have a choice. I still had all my clothes on. I could remove my sweatshirt or my pants. But, the game was getting to be more fun that I thought. I'm taking off my underwear," I announced.
"Good trick, right through your pants? Linda he is talented."
Undaunted, I stood removed my pants, quickly slipped off my shorts and released the struggling Beau. I then quickly dropped to the cushions and covered myself with the blanket. As I reached for my pants to replace them, Linda "accidentally" spilled some wine on them. "OOPS sorry honey. Guess you will have to leave them off."
"Whoopee, Linda, can I touch it?" Jane's voice, slightly muffled, came through the blankets under which she had ducked.
"Please do my dear."
"Hold on. That's cheating," I protested." Nevertheless I felt the touch of a soft finger trace Beau's underside from my balls to head.
"Next question ladies." I shuffled through the deck and found a particularly difficult question.
"Ok," said Linda, but we need new prizes. Since we girls are still clothed, if we lose we take off our pants if we get it wrong, if you lose, uhhh what do you think Jane."
"They have to stroke themselves while we watch."
"Waaa, that's great," Linda laughed in my face.
Both Jay and I voiced protests. After all it seemed a little much.
"Chickens, chickens, chickens..."
Jay and I looked at each other and nodded. Oh hell, I thought, we've got to win this one.
Jane grabbed a card "Who lived at 343 Bratner, Fernwood?"
"Is that a real question? How old is this game anyway." I looked at Jay. He obviously didn't know either. "Superman?"
"No idiot, Mary Hartman. You lose."
"Jay, I need more wine." I dragged my half-naked body (accompanied by a chorus of suggestive comments from the female members of our party) to the counter and opened a new bottle. Back under the blankets, Jay and I fortified ourselves with long pulls. Under the blankets again, the ladies egged us on.
"I've actually never done this before have you Steve?"
"Not really Jay. I've heard of the practice."
"Quit stalling and pay up," came from the blankets.
What the hell, I grabbed that shifty snake Beau and gave him a few long slow strokes. I had to admit that it felt wonderful. But somehow the public display... well ok... I enjoyed it. The heads turned under the blankets and I could see Jay's helpless look as he grabbed his cock and put on his show. Howls of laughter came from the blankets along with comments such as: "I think someone is lying--These guys have had lots of practice--Ohhh, look at that technique."
"New game ladies." Jay grabbed the cards. If we win, we get to feel your tits, if we lose..."
"We play with your balls," added Jane.