Chapter 1: The First Stop

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/mt, Mult, Consensual, Reluctant, Coercion, Blackmail, Gay, Heterosexual, True Story, Historical, MaleDom, Rough, Group Sex, White Male, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Slow, Workplace,

Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1: The First Stop - A young sailor and a jaded whore find a night of happiness and loses his virginity in a saloon in Panama. Later, back on the ship as he allows himself to come under the control of the Boatswain and his friends the young man's life takes a very gay turn.

Welcome to Panama, a place where a young man's dreams are about to come true and a whore's hopes are about to be restored.

Panama, The First Port

The oily slick surface of the water stretched to a point where it became low lying clouds far out beyond the ship, its reflection of the gray overcast sky, smooth and tranquil. As the boy walked aft that changed, the sounds of the engines became a constant background to the sound of squawking gulls and the strong breeze that hit him as he passed the corner of the aft locker. In the pale morning light he could see the lights of ships far into the haze of the horizon. Like stars at twilight, they twinkled, filling the bay with their green, red and white lights. The boy turned his eyes to the southeast where there was a necklace-like string of lights that formed the coast, which lay about three or four miles south of their anchorage. They had arrived late last night and this was the first sight of their surroundings for the boy.

This was but one of the many firsts the boy had experienced since the ship had left New Orleans those five long days ago. It was his first time away from home, the first time out of his home state of Mississippi, and now his first foreign land. Scotty stopped to take it all in. The panoramic view of the flat still surface of the bay reflecting the sky without benefit of waves to break the illusion, so that both sky and water were the same color. The horizon was lost in a shimmering haze so you couldn't tell where the sky stopped and the sea began. A couple of dozen squawking gulls seemed to hover or swoop around the ships fantail drawn by the stench of the garbage that was filling two of the six fifty-five gallon drums that were lashed to the ships railing.

The ship was The Cosmos Trader; she was an old passenger ship converted to serve out its last years as a freighter. She stood tall above the water, her once beautiful red paint now a dull and faded patchwork of primer and rust spots. Instead of carrying the people with important business or young newlyweds with important pleasure to conduct, she was burdened with thirty thousand gallons of dry cleaning fluid and other assorted cargo headed to the hard fighting troops in Vietnam. It was the first day of September, nineteen hundred and sixty eight, the fifth day of the journey, and of Scotty Jackson's maritime career.

As the boy of eighteen stood looking at the world that he had been lucky enough to be able to enter, he thought about his friends back home. The ones that were so inclined would be getting ready to head to college, the others would be working in cafés or running chain saws cutting pulpwood for the paper mill. Scotty was so thankful that he was here with the wild wind from strange lands blowing on him, the smell of adventure in the air. He was on the first part of a trip that would take him halfway around the world. He found himself helpless to stop a big smile from spreading across his face as he thought of what lay ahead for him. He loved being part of the scene, part of the system of trade that sent these ships sailing from all over the world, to come to this stopping place to sway at their anchors waiting for their turn to go through the Panama Canal.

The boy's bright blue eyes peered out from under his 'Beatle' haircut as he tried to count the flags flying from the other ships. After reaching twenty he gave it up. The ships were scattered across several miles of the large bay. Scotty wondered if it was to give them more room to maneuver if bad weather should hit them. This was smack in the middle of hurricane season and those monster storms could blow in on a group of ships like this and really raise hell. It represented quite a gamble for the owners of those ships, and their insurers. They were betting that they could sit here waiting for their turn to go through and not get caught by one of the killer storms that so frequently threatened these waters.

Sometimes, the boatswain had told him, it might take several days before your turn rolled around. That was not the case for them this trip; they were carrying war materials, they would be given precedence. The Pilot would be brought on board and the ship would enter the canal at or about ten thirty next morning. Since they had to wait overnight the boatswain had asked for and gotten permission from the captain to take a boat ashore for the men who had off time. Scotty so wanted to be one of those men.

"It's really nice when you have one of those moments ain't it."

The voice startled the boy just as the hand settled onto his shoulder. He turned to see Goat, an old ABS (able bodied seaman) that Scotty had come to think of as a friend. Nobody short of the captain knew his real name. Everybody just called him Goat and that seemed to be OK with him. He was a cheerful old guy, late fifties or early sixties with a warm smile. His eyes held a fire, there was a sureness in his manner, something that made you want to listen when he spoke. Scotty had already heard so many tales of how different shipmates in different ports had found Goat drunk and helped him back to the ship, but when he was on board he did his job and did it well.

The old sailor continued, "Every now and again you will get to enjoy a sight or a feeling that stays with you for the rest of your life. It looked to me like you was having one of those moments, and I hated to break it up, but Cookie is looking for you and you don't want to start off the day getting on his bad side."

Scotty knew that was right, he didn't want the second cook pissed, today of all days. It was up to the second cook to decide if he could go ashore or not this afternoon with the deck crew.

"Thanks, Goat and you're right, I was having one of those moments. But it was about over anyway. See you later."

The young man took up his heavy trashcan and walked to the fantail of the ship. Ignoring the cries of the gulls, he dumped the trash into one of the large drums beyond the rail and hurried back to the galley before the second cook got pissed.

The bright sunlight outside gave way to the shadowy cool darkness of the passageway where he met Gus the ship's steward, the only black man aboard. Scotty had been surprised to see a black man since he was shipping out in the Seafarer's International Union or the S.I.U. There was another union called the National Maritime Union or N.M.U.; there was a running joke that it really stood for Niggers, Mexicans and Undesirables. But Gus seemed to fit in and was well liked by everyone it seemed.

"Mr. Jackson, Cookie, I mean the second cook is looking for you."

Gus spoke with a very refined accent, not like any Negro Scotty had ever heard.

"Thanks, Gus. And Gus from now on just call me Scotty, OK?"

Scotty was rewarded by Gus's face splitting into a huge white smile that made the dark man's eyes shine as white as his teeth in the semi darkness of the passageway.

"You had best hurry, Scotty, Cookie is in one of his moods."

His hand found Scotty's shoulder as he passed, like a pat, and he was off to his washing machines and driers, and all the dirty linens and towels that the ship produced. Scotty watched him for a moment as he walked away down the narrow hall, wondering what a story that man's life must be.

Scotty entered the officer's dining room crossing through the room with its dark wood paneled walls with the fine leather covered armchairs and dark wooden table. It all looked like it was from another time, almost like what he had pictured a gentleman's club might be like in the Sherlock Holmes books he had read. The boy hurried through the ritzy room and entered the kitchen, or rather the galley, which he passed through to emerge into the crew's dining room, a much larger room with several stainless steel tables and metal benches bolted to the floor. That's where he found the second cook, rushing around with his hands in the air like he was a doctor about to operate on somebody.

"Where have you been? I have been waiting for you so long that I finally left and went to play with my girl's sweet pussy."

There was nothing about the second cook that would make you think that he was a sailor. He was a short fat balding man who still sported a ring of snow-white hair that wrapped around his head like those leaves that the Roman emperors wore. His skin was as pale as his hair, everything about the man looked soft and white.

"You don't believe me do you? You don't believe that I got girl on board this ship for me to fuck when I please... you don't believe me do you?"

The little man had approached very close to Scotty who was confused about what the man was saying. The boy wasn't used to the German accent and had trouble understanding the words the man was using.

Suddenly the cook shoved his hands under the boy's nose and exclaimed, "Smell that, does that not stink like pussy? See, I tell you. I fuck this girl when I want."

Scotty was sure that the man's hands stunk because of something in the kitchen; hell he had only been gone for a few minutes, but he did not want to spoil the joke, so he played along.

"That sure smells like pussy OK," the boy agreed.

"That the pussy, you be right there, that be the pussy that I am going to let you play with now."

The clean looking little man in his white coat was grinning, pleased with his joke, as he took out a big stainless steel bowl which was covered with a towel, he then reached back into the fridge and came out with a large tube of liverwurst, he turned to the boy.

"I want that you should make sandwiches for the crew, maybe two dozen of the sandwiches. I want that they should be made with sliced thin onion, liverwurst, and this Limburger cheese that stinks like pussy."

Cookie set down the meat and cheese and pointed to a bag of onions on the floor.

"Do sandwiches first then do the floor in the officers' dining room. When you are done then you are off until ten thirty. At ten thirty you be here, you be ready to work."

The boy nodded his head to show that he had heard, but his mind was racing. Should he ask now or wait until after the lunch clean up? He decided to go for it now.

"How long do I need to stay on board after lunch?" Scotty asked.

Cookie had turned his head to face the boy as he spoke, but said nothing.

Scotty hurriedly rushed on, "The boatswain said that I could ride in on the shore boat with the off duty men if it is OK with you."

The boy waited, his spirits sinking with each passing second. After a long period of disapproving silence, the second cook turned so that he stood squared off in front of the boy. His arms reached out to place his hands on each of Scotty's shoulders; his eyes seemed to be trying to reach inside of the boy as if to talk to his heart not his face.

"Scotty, you want that your dick should stink and rot and fall off?"

The cook tightened his grip as he continued, "Every sickness in the world is here. These woman that you think are so beautiful, they are poison. They are like snake that look very pretty but kill you with a bite."

Scotty braced himself for a long story. He had heard the cook tell of his last visit here while he was serving supper the first night out of New Orleans, as well as every night since then. That first night he had been talking to the boatswain, a big guy from Alabama who was like the foreman of the deck crew. He was also like a sergeant in the army, a go-between for the officers and the crew.

Scotty gathered from snatches of the conversations that he overheard during this last week that the little guy had seen a woman who was so perfect, so much what he wanted a woman to be that he had fallen for her. Since he had to leave with the ship the next day, he expressed his love by giving her everything that he had in his pockets as he left. She in return had given him something too, but he didn't find out until he went to the doctor with the burning piss of a case of the clap three days later. That had all happened some three months ago and he was still fretting over it.

In the end both men had agreed that women were so much of a mystery that they would never understand them, so they could never trust them. Neither seemed to think it had anything to do with the sort of women they were seeking out in the first place.

His attention was jerked back to the second cook by fingers digging into his shoulders as the man finished his tale, "She was so nice to look at, her long hair down to her ass, her body so perfect, like God wanted woman to be."

The sad little guy was still hurting from the betrayal of his vision of perfection; he searched for the right words but couldn't find them. Finally in a gesture of futility, he dropped his hands and turned and walked away.

"You get lunch cleaned up and then you do what you want. I see you tomorrow here, six hundred hours."

He walked out of the room, his permission tossed behind him like something that he didn't want any more.

Herr Ernst Obst ex-officer of the German navy headed down the passageway to his cabin, to have a mid morning snort and to ponder the follies of young men. He had the bottle of Schnapps in his hand before the door snapped shut behind him. Herr Obst poured a generous inch and a half of the amber colored liquid into the squat little water glass and tossed it back in a single brisk movement. As he let the heat of that first drink mellow in his system he poured a second, which he took to his bunk. He had been wandering the world for the last twenty-two years looking for a home, but it seemed he hadn't felt lost until the last few months. He pondered what that might mean as he sipped his drink. He lay back and closed his eyes, her long black shiny hair was all that he saw. He kept his eyes closed as he sipped and remembered, and he was smiling.

Scotty was so glad to hear the words that he paid the speaker little mind as the little German guy wondered off down the passageway. Instead he busied himself with the peeling and slicing of a dozen smallish onions, his mind churning with the details he had to deal with before he could go ashore. It was quite a list; he had to go up to the Captain's cabin and get a draw, an advance on his pay when they finished the trip. Normally the Captain will have what is called 'A Captains Draw' before every port of call. This serves two purposes, it lets the seaman enjoy each port with cash in his pocket, and it ensured that most of the men will be broke by the time they got back home, giving them an extra incentive to sign back on for another trip.

Finished with the onions, he had almost absent-mindedly laid out the slices of bread on the clean tabletop and started to assemble the sandwiches. A lightning quick hand from behind him immediately scooped up the first one he completed. He turned to find Frenchy, laughing with his face wrapped around what was left of the sandwich.

Frenchy, had been an ABS but this trip he had been promoted to 'Dayman', which was like a maintenance man. When he wasn't busy fixing or inspecting he taught the OS's, or Ordinary Seaman, things like how to splice wire rope and tie knots. He was a notch above everyone else in the deck department with the exception of the boatswain, but you would never know that from the way he acted. Though he was pushing fifty he was as full of energy as any teenager.

Having torn the sandwich in half and swallowed the first half in a single gulp he screwed up his face and tried to sound like the Captain as he said, "If you wanted to make a draw you best get you ass up there right damn now."

Without waiting to be asked, Frenchy took the knife from Scotty's hand and told him to get the fuck out of there and get his money. As the boy darted out the door and up the stairs, Frenchy ate another sandwich and got a cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later Scotty came down those same stairs with more money then he had ever held in his hand before, two hundred dollars, it was a small fortune. The Captain had insisted that he take that much instead of the fifty he had asked for. The older man had smiled as he told Scotty that if he didn't need it tonight that he would put it back in the ship's safe tomorrow, but if he did need it he would have it. Grown men worked for sixty-five dollars a week in Mississippi, and here he was with two hundred to spend in one night if he so chose. It gave him a sense of power that felt uneasy on him, almost like it might be some sort of test, to see if he was grown up enough to handle it wisely.

The lunch rush never happened; it seemed that everybody was going ashore and the only ones left on board was content to eat the cold cuts and sandwiches. The boatswain, being a take-charge sort of guy, saw his opportunity and had the deck hands lower the gangplank and lower the shore boat into the water. Since this was as close to a lifeboat drill as they would ever have the boatswain talked everybody through what was going on and how they should behave if they ever had to put out the lifeboats for real.

Scotty thought that he should find the second cook and ask if he could leave early. Goat and Frenchy both thought that was a dumb thing to do when he could just drop down into the boat and be gone. Any disagreements that might come up would be after the trip to shore so therefore meaningless. After all the cook had said that he could go after clean up. Since they never messed up the galley for lunch there was no clean up.

With both of his older and more knowledgeable friends to advise him, Scotty agreed to leave with the deck crew. He climbed down into the boat like a man might leave the scene of a crime. One eye was always peeled for the cook who he thought might come running out at any minute to stop his escape.

The boy sat in the back of the boat, away from the spray that blew in over the front, as the small boat seemed to slice through the water on its way to the town of Punta Toro. He was trying to conceal himself from the cook's eyes until after they were out of shouting distance. Suddenly the boat started to buck and bounce spraying water over everybody as it left the leeside of the ship and met the ocean waves head on.

The bay had been smooth as glass this morning when he had first seen it but now it had become choppy with rolling waves that lifted the boat high enough that you could see ships in the distance, only to drop it down into a deep trough where water ran on both sides higher then a man's head above the boat, the stormy waters tossing the large open boat about as if it were a toy even though it was a beautiful sunny day.

The other sailors didn't seem to pay any mind to the boat as it slid off one wave and then rose to meet yet another but somehow always getting closer to the dock which now was within sight. Instead they were kept busy remembering their last trip into this famous port. All the sailors, to a man, thought this was the best port for a one-night shore leave this side of Saigon. Everybody on board seemed to have a favorite bar or club where the girls were the best.

While the stories were exciting and the men told them with such flair, the trip in the little boat through those towering swells kept stealing the boy's attention. To Scotty, who before this trip had never ridden in any boats over open water, it was a desperate situation but since nobody else was worried about it, he tried to ignore his own feelings of approaching disaster and act as unconcerned as the rest of the men.

In an effort to distract his mind from his uneasy stomach and the rolling waves ahead Scotty turned back to look behind them at the bay with all its ships. When the boat would top a wave he could see maybe a dozen ships but knew that there were more hidden in the haze at the horizon. The thought crossed his mind that the sailors were like a herd of sheep being brought to the place where they would be shorn. The men in the boat were the mother lode for the bars and bordellos that lined the streets of Punta Toro. The whores were the instruments used to separate the sailor from his money. It was a system that he could hardly wait to become a part of.

The small boat was almost to the long pier now as the boatswain expertly let the craft loop around into the quieter waters of the lee side to tie up facing outward toward the sea. As the men jumped up to the dock they were quickly approached by a group of women. Frenchy and Goat pulled Scotty by the arm until he was safely out of reach, explaining as they walked that those women were the older whores or the ones who had lost their looks. They tried to get to the men before they had a chance to see the younger girls back in the clubs on Johnson St.

As Scotty looked back he could see several of the women leading his shipmates down into the small boats tied beneath the pier. Behind them across the bay he could see the beautiful old city of Colon, its yellow tan walls coming down to meet the dark blue of the bay. Beyond the adobe like Old Spanish buildings he could see the lush green jungle that climbed the inland mountains. High banks of threatening clouds piled themselves above the mountains as if they might come storming down on the town at any minute.

The boy turned his senses to this side of the bay. The wind was fresh and strong carrying the musical sound of spoken Spanish and the smells of a seafood market. Vendors pushed carts selling crabs and fried fish, their aromas the only advertising they needed as the sailors who had just passed on lunch now discovered that they were indeed hungry. The sky was a little overcast but still more sunshine then cloud. With a new friend and shipmate on either side of him, Scotty headed into the famous red light district of Punta Toro. In his pocket he had more money then he had ever held in his life, two hundred dollars, and his friends held equal amounts. But they only had until midnight to get back to the boat that would take them to the ship. It was already four pm and they hadn't even got to the place yet. Since they had more money then time they decided to splurge and paid the atrocious sum of two dollars for a cab to carry them to the strip of bars only a couple of miles away.

As they walked through the old-fashioned saloon doors of the Seven Seas Bar, they saw a scene that has been greeting the eyes of sailors since waterfronts were invented. A room full of noisy sailors competing for the attentions of a few very lovely young ladies. The dark haired beauties swirled around the room laughing and joking with the different men as they passed. A bar ran along the left side of the room with a line of tables pushed against the wall on the right. Men sat on chairs with girls on their laps, laughing and seeming to be having the time of their lives. The girls would from time to time take a man by the hand and lead them up the stairs behind the bar to the small rooms above.

Scotty was as new to drinking as he was to world of the waterfront whorehouses, unsure of what to ask for he let his friend Frenchy do the ordering. The club only made six different drinks that were on the menu, after a short discussion it was agreed that they should work their way down the list. They started off with a round of vodka Tom Collins, followed by a round of something called a grasshopper. The drinks were strong and soon he was laughing too loud at things that didn't seem that funny.

The girls would come and sit with the men for a while flirting and letting the men get their hands on the soft parts. The evening was off to a great start and the waiter brought the next drink on the list to Scotty, something called a Zombie. It was a tall glass that contained seven different types of rum, as a testament to how strong it was, somebody had set the damn thing on fire and it burned with a pale blue flame as it sat on the table before the young man. Amid the cheers of his shipmates he blew out the fire and took a long swig of the fiery liquid. It seemed to suck all the air from his lungs and threw the boy into a fit of coughing which seemed to cause an outburst of laughter from the men around him.

Before he could muster up the courage to take another drink, a beautiful young girl interrupted him. She reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet. She led him away from his friends without any resistance from him since she was as pretty as any girl he had ever seen. Amidst cheers on his friends' part, and a chorus of 'good lucks' he gladly followed her. The smile on her face held him as much as her slim hand on his arm as they went behind the bar, where the bartender wanted five dollars before he was allowed to follow the girl up the stairs. The boy was happy to pay and rushed up the stairs to catch her as she was entering a small room with a single bed against the wall.

The girl was already undressing and while he wanted to enjoy watching her; he started to undress as well. Soon she was naked, and he had never seen a girl as wonderful as she was. Her skin looked like a warm cup of creamy coffee. He couldn't keep his hands off her as she led him to the small basin and began to wash his privates. His hands reached for her breast, not to tease or pinch, or even to excite, but to touch as if to test if they could be real, to wonder how they must feel to her, to touch and feel this beautiful woman was amazing. Her touch was knowing and sure as she dried him with a towel and led him to the bed, where she lay back and let the young man explore her body at his leisure. The boy let his fingers trail over the woman's body, finding the answers to questions that he had wondered about for years.

This was the first time that he had the opportunity to delve into the secrets of the female body. The first time a woman had allowed him this access to her body. The girl seemed to recognize that this was his first time and gave him all the time he needed. Her hand slowly stroking his hard cock, she allowed him to explore with his fingers and hand all the places he could never go before.

Reaching back into his memories he tried to use his one year of high school Spanish to talk to her. He stumbled through the words to ask her what her name was. She understood him and replied in a rapid gush of words ending with her hand resting on her chest and the name Francesca on her lips.

Francesca, the name rolled off his tongue sounding as sweet as honey as it came from his mouth. It seemed that they had only been there for a few minutes before a buzzer went off on the headboard of the bed. The girl explained to him with broken English and hand signals that he would have to take five dollars down to the bartender if he wanted to stay with her.

Scotty was more sure of the fact that he wanted to stay with her then any other aspect of his life at the moment, so he slipped his pants on and ran down the stairs barefooted and shirtless to give the fat bartender another five dollars. When he returned Francesca was reclining on the bed with a warm smile and a hand that beckoned him to lie beside her.

The boy hurriedly peeled his pants down his legs and stepping out of them slipped into bed beside her.

Francesca was wise in the ways of the world and knew that she would have to take control if they were going to proceed to the next level and actually have sex. She rolled over and straddled the boy gently lowering her body down onto his hardness. She sat tall and straight upon the boy as she began to slowly rock her body as she worked her womanly muscles.

Scotty felt the heat and the softness, the drawing, the squeezing, the pushing deeper and the pulsing power of sex. But equally he saw her face, her eyes so open to his own; he felt that he was looking into her soul. Her breast swayed with her motions dancing a slow sexy dance on her chest as she watched his face from above them. Even the boy could see she was enjoying this as much as he was. That thought, combined with all the other sensations he was having, overloaded his circuits and blew his fuses, pushing him over the edge. He was swept helplessly along as the force of his orgasm built up until in a few strokes he shot the last of his boyish virginity deep into her knowing cunt.

She sat still over him as he came to terms with the powerful joy of sexual fulfillment. Her womanly inner parts rippling against his softening cock as she worked her muscles, milking the last of his cum and forever earning a place in his fantasies.

The girl was smiling down on him with all the warmth of a true lover, the young boy, a pleasant break from the older and more demanding men downstairs. She could feel the calluses that grew around her own heart soften as she looked down on the young man's face. So full with the awe and wonder at the discovery of how good life could be, such a perfect mixture of pride and gratefulness.

She lay down beside the boy their bodies touching from shoulder to foot, the overhead fan sending a cooling breeze down over their naked bodies. Her eyes found their reflection in the mirror. In the mirror, their sweat shining a hot red in the fading light of the sunset peeking through the opened window, they looked like lovers. They looked like young sweethearts who should be together for the rest of their lives. In the mirror, she looked as young as he did, but in the real world he was a kid and she was an adult. She hoped that someday she would put all this behind her and find this feeling again. She was reassured that she could still feel it now after so many months.

The blaring sound of the buzzer jerked both of them back to life, such a rude intrusion into a magic moment. She was back to being a whore bought and paid for until the end of the year when she could go back home to live with her family. The money that the club owners had paid her father along with the money she sent home made the difference in whether her family ate well and had clothes to wear. She knew that she would be received like a heroine when she was allowed to go back home to her family. She had been proud to be chosen, but now she was counting the days until this year of her life was over.

Scotty got his clothes and put them on all the while wondering what he could say to this woman. How could he tell her how much he owed her, how much she meant to him. How she would always live in his memory. She had been his first one, the one that all the others would be judged against. She had been the perfect woman for the role.

It seemed that they each avoided the other's eyes as they left the small room together. But at the bottom of the stairs Scotty had an idea and reaching into his pocket he pulled all his cash out and offered the bartender a hundred dollars if he could take Francesca outside of the building and buy her a nice dinner. The bartender told him no.

Scotty was torn between being happy about what had already happened to him or saddened about what might have happened if the girl had been allowed to leave. He found his way back to the table where Goat and Frenchy was sitting. Each of them had a girl on his lap and was talking a mile a minute. Frenchy was in the process of doing his trick with the razor blade. Scotty had seen this already since Frenchy was always willing to stop what ever he was doing to demonstrate his strange and dangerous skill.

It involved taking a double-edged razor blade and holding it vertically between your top and bottom teeth, the sharp edge facing both forward and backwards. He then began to stick his tongue out on the left and then on the right side of the blade. He built up speed until his tongue was a flash of red darting pass the cutting edge so fast that you just knew that at any moment there would be a gusher of blood and poor Frenchy would never speak plainly again. But in the end it never happened and the man took out the blade and flashed his smile around the table. He offered the blade to anyone who might like to try the trick but got no takers.

One of the girls bent down and whispered into Frenchy's ear. They both laughed and then got up and they headed upstairs to try other tricks with his talented tongue. As Scotty watched his friend go up the stairs he saw Francesca coming down with a tall gentleman following behind her. His eyes followed her as she came across the narrow room to pass within a few feet of where he sat. He could see the weariness in her eyes, but as her face turned toward him and she saw him looking at her, that look was replaced with a warm smile. He smiled back and motioned for her to join him at the table with his friends. Scotty proudly introduced Francesca to the shipmates that were still at the table, as he held her chair while she seated herself beside him. He ordered her one of the Tom Collins that he had thought had tasted so good and begin to battle the language barrier that stood between them.

Amazingly it was Goat that saved the day; it seemed that he knew just enough Spanish to get by in most situations and this one was no exception. He asked a series of questions and when he translated the answers Scotty left the building for the first time since he arrived. Twenty minutes later he came back in with a huge bag in his arms and a smile that covered his face with happiness. Motioning with his head for the girl to follow him he went up the stairs to the same little room where he had been before. He hurriedly ran back downstairs to pay the bartender ten dollars and then returned to find the girl laying out the food he had gotten.

The two of them now set about like the young people that they were supposed to be. With kisses, smiles, and gentle touches they communicated the thoughts that their language skills were not up to. Sitting cross-legged on the narrow bed they enjoyed the picnic like meal of fried bananas with honey, fried chicken wings, rice and pork, and for dessert rice pudding. When at last they were both full Scotty handed the girl a gift-wrapped present.

Francesca was completely surprised and moved by the gesture on the boy's part. She had not had a gift from anybody since the year before her father had sold her to the bordello. With a sense of girlish excitement she tore open the small box. Inside was a new pair of silver rimmed sunshades. They were beautiful, and she put them on right away. Through the shades she could barely see the boy in the darkened room. She removed them and forgetting who and where she was, offered a kiss of thanks to the boy. Nobody kisses the whores, not on the mouth; sailors are a mite funny about kissing a girl they think might have just sucked off their friend.

Fortunately Scotty did not know about that sort of thing and he returned the kiss with all his heart. The embrace turned into something more and soon they were removing each other's clothes again.

This time was different, this time Scotty knew what to do and had a general ideal how to go about it. He took the top position and she rose up to meet him as he entered her. He sunk into her until he was fully encased by her loving body, all the while he was kissing her and she him. This was so much more then sex, this was the first time that Scotty had made love, and it had been far too long since Francesca had given of herself so fully to a man. They were in no hurry and they enjoyed the slow pace, taking the time to fully explore this wonderful thing they shared between them. Her arms reached up and around her lover and pulled him deeper into her. He moved up on her body to force his cock to make contact with her clit on each stroke. The slow dance soon carried them to the end of their journey and they came together in a glorious climax that left both of them breathless and sated.

They lay beside each other, not speaking a word, there was no need for words between them now. Her eyes found the mirror once more, she saw two lovers lying next to each other, happy and content. She snuggled closer trying to soak up this feeling while she could.

They lay that way feeling each other heartbeats until the buzzer rung. Scotty rolled off the bed and pulled his clothes back on, he took all his money and laid it on the table. Looking at the girl who had giving him so much to remember, he picked up a single five dollar bill. Using his hands he told her to lie back down and he walked out the door leaving the pile of cash where he had put it on the table. As he walked down the stairs he paid the bartender the five.

He had to hurry if he was going to make the boat before it left; he started to jog alone the roadside heading toward the pier. He was surprised when a taxi stopped to pick him up, even more surprised when he saw the second cook sitting in the back seat of the big car. He slid in beside the little man who was dressed much like a banker.

"So, how was night for young dining room orderly, you have fun, no?"

"Yes, I mean yes sir, I had a great time. I met the most wonderful girl," Scotty was about to go into detail but the older man waved him silent.

"Me also," he told the boy, and sat back into the seat in such a way that it seemed he didn't want to talk about it any more.

'Maybe he's right, ' Scotty thought, 'maybe this is too good to share. Maybe this is the kind of memory that you keep to yourself because telling the story to others would cheapen it.'

There was a part of her that would always be a part of him now, and he would not let the memory be soiled. Thanks to her he was now and forever more a man.

Back at the cathouse Francesca watched the clock tick down the minutes that the young man had paid for. She had spent the time alone after he had left; she had counted the money and was amazed to find one hundred and twenty dollars. Her father was lucky to earn two hundred dollars in a year. It would truly be a blessing for her family. The buzzer went off. She opened the door and walked down the stairs to be a whore. But there was hope now and she knew that the scars would heal; she had not lost her ability to love.

She was going to be OK.

Scotty and the second cook arrived at the pier just as a the crew were climbing aboard the boat for the trip back to their home, their ship. The boy felt a sense of belonging now that he hadn't felt earlier in the day. A lot had changed. The sea was calm and the men were also it seemed, the wind and the sea provided most of the sounds on the way back out toward the ship. A big silver moon showed them the way so clearly that they didn't turn on the spotlight. One of the sailors was rude enough or drunk enough to ask the cook if he thought that he had the clap again. Scotty was sure the little man would have an angry reply, but was surprised when he answered calmly.

"Maybe so, maybe that is right and I do get the clap from this woman. Maybe I get shot from needle."

Everybody thought that the man was finished but then they heard him say, "She maybe give me sickness of body but she take away sickness of soul."

He seemed to relax and a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Scotty Jackson, dining room orderly on board the Cosmos Trader, agreed one hundred percent with the cook's words. He shut his eyes and let the boat carry him home across the silver sea. Tomorrow they would go through the canal and then the whole of the Pacific Ocean would be waiting for them with Hawaii being the next port of call. Scotty felt that he had found his home and his profession. He loved the way one chapter would end and another begin with each new port. A part of him thought of Francesca and it brought a moment of sadness, but when you thought about it, whoring wasn't any worst then going into snake infested woods to wrestle a chain saw all day. In so many ways she was doing an important job, a job that didn't get the appreciation it deserved. She had certainly earned his respect and admiration for the way she had handled him.

The boy drew up his legs and rested his chin on his knees as the boat sailed through the magical silver sea. His thoughts seeing the small erect nipples of Francesca and the look of caring that he saw in her eyes as she looked down at him. He found himself thinking that overall life is very good.

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