Chapter 7

“The ship that sailed from South America to Japan had people on it even less welcome than me by the rough sailors,” Nick began his Tale, bringing all his reserves to it. Though he smiled, it had to be his weakest smile yet. “After all, they didn’t do anything to assist the sailing. Only took from the limited supply of food and drink. At least they had no interest in rum.

“Thirteen missionaries in all, five of them were women. All the women and a couple of the men had added to the ones who had originally sailed from Portugal, veterans of missionary work if you will. Fervent in their conservative and asexual beliefs, adding women had been a forgotten necessity for the on board missionaries. How else could they add to their flock without fucking heathens? So, in a sense, the females got added for their wombs.

“It created a challenge to their dedication to faith. All the women were young and at least pretty. Loose missionary robes hid many erections.

“One of these women could be easily classified as beautiful, and her voluptuous shape added sexiness to her attractiveness. Neither aspect would have been her choice. She had hard eyes, and I suspected why.

“I had become a reluctant addition to the group. They needed my peculiar knowledge. I not only knew Japanese, but also the terrain on which they might find sanctuary and hiding on the archipelago. The more foolish of the men thought they could land in a city and begin converting in the open. I finally convinced them that Gaijin, especially those espousing a different belief system, would not only not be welcome in a well-developed civilization, but would be considered dangerous. This would not be primitive America. Nor would great numbers of conquistadors sweep through, leaving missionaries in their destructive wake. So, for both the needs of the crew, especially in terms of navigation, and the needs of their passengers as guide and translator, this dark skinned outsider became an unfortunate necessity.

“And in one case, the beautiful, sexy missionary, I became a friend. It turned out she needed me.”

As usual, Sister Serena sits away from her fellows, neither amongst the other sisters, or, most obviously, amongst the men. While others murmur prayers and seek meaning in their bibles, Serena sews. Strong hands wield sharp pins well. Though beautiful, this was no delicate flower.

Nick carefully sits near her. “What happened to you,” he asks quietly, almost a whisper.

She tenses. “What do you mean?”

“I know you don’t believe me now, but you can trust me. I will never harm you. Look to my eyes for any lust. You will find none, not even the kind that slips through your devout company so hard at fighting it.”

Despite her answer, she looks, “You’re a man aren’t you?” For some reason, his genuine smile relaxes her, at least a little, and his quiet chuckle even more. She hears no teasing in it.

“All I can say is I’m different than any man you have met. And I have to admit my reason for you to trust me will probably sound just as unconventional.”

“What would that be?”

“I have been successful as a lover. I have bedded women of equal beauty to you, though none with greater beauty.”

“And why would that make me trust you?”

“Two reasons. First, I have had the opportunity to taste such beauty, been sated by it, and haven’t the desperation to sample yours that these other men resist. Second, I do not need to force myself upon you or any woman. I only bed those who wish to bed me. It can never be otherwise.”

She looks at him skeptically and again gets moved by his gentle smile. “Again, you are a man, by nature a victim of your desire.”

“And again, I am not like any man you have met, or will meet. Please tell me what happened. Sometimes it helps to relive even the most terrible moments, if only to confront them head on instead of having them paw at you inside, like a hidden predator. It’s a lot easier to defeat a prey you can see than one hidden in the shadow ready to pounce.”

“And what would that do for you? Is this your seduction?”

“I would like to see the pain in your eyes go away. Or at least lessen. Call it my good deed. And maybe I shouldn’t say this. It probably doesn’t help my cause. But I like you. I like intelligent women.”

“You flatter me. I am but a seamstress and a missionary.”

“Who grew up listening and learning from a wise person.”

“Person?”

“Again, unlike most men, I do not presume gender.”

Her smile thrills him, even within its sadness. “My mother. She had ... similar problems as me. But she wanted me to be more than my beauty. To be smarter than that. Because intelligence breeds strength, especially for a woman. It can even, sometimes, protect me. And my grandfather, her father. The wisest man I have ever met. He had a sadness to him because he couldn’t protect his daughter at least one time, when she conceived me. He too wanted me to be as strong as possible. But even then...” she sniffles.

“Would you tell me? Perhaps later? More privately?”

“You...”

“No. On deck. In front of others. Witnesses, even if they can’t hear us. But late? After your fellow missionaries sleep?”

“Do I need to meet you... ?”

“Just slip out of your quarters when you’re ready. Here,” he hands her a small knife. “In case you feel any need to defend yourself from me.”

“You give such an angry woman such a weapon?”

“Yes,” he grins, and her grin once again thrills him.

“Brave man,” she almost giggles.

He shrugs and leaves her.

When she steps onto the ship deck outside of her sanctuary below deck, she sees her guard and smiles. For some reason the captain has protected them with guards that may as well be eunuchs, preferring their sex exclusively. The guard smiles back and gestures to his right where she sees the tall, robust, dark, admittedly handsome man barely seen in the shadows of night. She approaches Nick bravely.

“Let’s walk,” Nick suggests.

“I trusted the man,” Serena immediately begins.

“That’s not good for us.”

“No. But I think I learned enough to see what I hadn’t wanted to notice before in that ... man, and that I don’t see in you. He was a cousin, a little older than a good friend of mine. My best friend actually, which gave him opportunity to get to know me. To tell you the truth, I desired him. He was handsome and cocky, which should have warned me off. But I guess girls like men like that.”

“He was a man?”

“Young. Around twenty I think. Four years older than me. His sister was almost three years older. She sewed like I did, which is how we became close friends. When she married, I asked her questions about ... you know ... mating. And she asked me about other things. She knew my mother, of course, and my grandfather and knew I was often with them, learning things. She too wanted to learn, but carefully, telling me her husband preferred her dumb. I guess I was her only outlet for her intelligence.

“Anyway, her brother would sometimes tease us about these conversations which he would overhear. Again I should have been warned with him hovering and him criticizing, but for some reason I found it cute. A girl’s lust I guess.

“One day, after finishing sewing with his sister, he invited me to walk with him. Somehow he got me talking about history of the Indians. Before and after we conquered them. I have a feeling he didn’t care, but he’d flash his cute smile and encourage me.

“Caught up in it, and his seeming interest in it and in me, I didn’t even realize where we ended up, at the edge of our village. ‘Thirsty?’ he asked me, and all that talking had dried my throat so I nodded. We entered the forest. He led me to a spring I never knew about. It was lovely. As I dipped my head to drink, he ... leaned against me. I ... immediately felt his desire. I tried to stop him. I told him ‘No.’ He didn’t listen. He held me, stronger than I could fight, but ... his hand ... had to open things. His clothes. My clothes. It gave me a chance. But another man appeared. And another. Fellow soldiers. They held me down to let him...” she sobs and shakes.

“Serena...”

“No! Let me finish! It hurt like hell. But at least he didn’t last. And when the next one wanted to take his place, I kicked and I scratched and hurt them enough between the change in people holding me down to find a way to escape, putting all my strength to the test. And I ran, staying amongst the trees. I was naked below my waist and my torso might as well have been the way they tore open my blouse. I didn’t want to let anyone see my shame.”

“Your shame?” Nick growls.

“Yes! For tempting him! For letting him take my precious virginity. My gift to my husband, which no man would ever be.”

“He raped you. His friends held you down. They did not allow any permission.”

“The devil made me like this. Tempting men.”

“No! You made no display. You did not tease. They took you without provocation. And even the most tantalizing female, who wears her cloth to display what lies beneath, even she does not deserve to be raped. And you never even made the suggestion.”

“I was born with the suggestion.”

“It can be a curse, I agree. Especially to one as devoutly religious as you.”

“So many say it is a gift.”

“Not your mother, I wager.”

“Nor my grandfather. And those who say it, reveal what a terrible gift it is. Envy in women. Lust in men. I must have been cast by the devil to bring those deadly sins to the surface.”

“And yet you work against him, don’t you? To help bring heathens to salvation.”

“It is my purpose. But I sense your disapproval.”

“Then you have sensitive ears. I didn’t mean to mock. Yes, to be truthful, I find missionary work inherently condescending. To consider natives lesser people. I lived amongst them for many years, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“Actually had a place of respect with them. That changed with the invasion of your people.”

“Wait. I heard legends of a black man. A sort of emperor. Your father?”

“Something like that,” Nick chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. All that’s gone now. They needed leadership of their own people to sustain any pride they might have. Not someone such as me, who may not look like you, but not them either. Even if I felt like one of them more than I felt like anyone else. I may look like a blackamoor, and people assume I have their faith, but I don’t.”

“You don’t believe in Mohamad?”

“Not any more than I believe in Jesus except knowing both lived and changed everything, if as symbols more than anything else. In fact I believe Islam to be even more repressive than Christianity. Especially towards women. Heathen and infidel stand at about equal prejudice and repressiveness.”

“Don’t you believe in anything?”

“I believe in myself.”

“That’s hardly a religious attitude.” When he laughs, she asks, “What?”

“Never mind. I guess if I had anything like faith, it would be more a philosophy than a religion. A faith in the mind to strive for greater things. Whether internally, to find a kind of peace. Have you heard of Buddhism?”

“I have heard of it. Some sort of eastern mysticism.”

“I suppose it can be mystical. It’s belief in karma and reincarnation. Both things encouraging doing good in one’s life to make things better for your future.”

“Like gaining heaven through good deeds.”

“Very similar, actually, but more material. Instead of heaven, they believe a soul can come back within a better being, and they have an eventual place to achieve called Nirvana which matches heaven. To reach it one must enter a state of enlightenment, which is a place of utter peace and acceptance. No longer fighting battles in your mind. Like allowing the flow of a river to send you where it will instead of fighting against it. It’s closest to what I think, because of the peace it brings. But I also believe in the mind as a thing to ameliorate. To figure things out. To continually improve.”

“Like better boats?”

“Yes.”

“But also better weapons.”

“True. Another philosophy, born in China, has as its basic tenet, so far from Christians and Moslems, that the world cannot be just good and bad, but has balance, with good inside bad and bad inside good. But instead of those labels, which connote ethical values, I like to think of the masculine and feminine opposites. Less morality involved, and truer because of it.”

“You think a man has a woman inside him?”

“Yes. And vice versa. It’s how we can be compassionate and empathize with our opposite gender. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Can you trust me?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Concentrate on everything you think makes you a woman. Let your mind occupy those places unique to your gender.”

“Nick!”

“You’re female, Serena. Nothing inherently dirty in that. Judgement makes it dirty. Just try, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Go deep with it. Remember, a woman has a womb. In a way, it defines our difference. ‘Womb-man.’”

“Okay.”

“What do you feel?”

“Internal. A place to take in. And a place to keep guard. Other things ... find who to guard against and who to ... accept in.

“Good. Now imagine being male.”

She tightens. “I have only seen one example of a man’s ... maleness, and...”

“But there’s someone sometime you might allow in, because you want his seed in order to grow a child.”

“The asshole changed that.”

“But before...”

“Yes. In fact it let my guard down.”

“Imagine a man who you could trust. Who you could embrace without worry.”

“Grandfather.”

“Good. Not at all sexual, is it, as far as a threat. Just his gender.”

“Yes.”

“Imagine that thing that had been a terrible thing to be a good thing because it helped bless you with your mother.”

“Yes.”

“Imagine you are him, a man. No longer female. Different parts.”

“It changes ... direction. Everything outward.”

“You can imagine it. It isn’t completely foreigner.”

“And yet it’s so different.”

“But you are of him. You have understanding. Your grandfather gave you understanding from his perspective, from the outward direction of his gender.”

“So, in a way I learned to be male from him.”

“Yes.”

“And yet I didn’t learn enough, from him and especially from my mother. Exactly what happened to her I let happen to me, and as a male, in his desire, however suppressed, I could have seen the direction of it, the aspect of conquest so inherent...”

She collapses into sitting on her feet, clutching her legs in her arms and sobs. The abstraction, the exercise, the intellectualizing of the feelings has been broken by the rape once again.

He avoids touching her. To comfort her physically would be the opposite of what she needs. His maleness makes him the enemy. He waits for her to calm.

“Nick?” she murmurs into her knees, “Did everything happen the same as my mother?”

“Have you had your monthly visit since?” he asks her, carefully euphemistic.

“I haven’t thought about it. I’ve just been numb. I’ve just been escaping, ashamed.”

“Why the hell should you be ashamed?” he mutters, careful to hold back his anger.

“Mother and grandfather said the same. But ... I saw everyone looking at me and knowing ... Even my cousin.”

“Did you tell her?”

“I didn’t dare.”

“Then how could she know?”

“It seemed like everyone knew.”

“And if you had told her?”

“What do you mean?”

“What would she think of her brother?”

“I don’t know. He is her brother.”

“Do you believe she would have sided with your rapist?”

“My mother wanted to rip off his balls and feed them to him,” she smirks. Then she goes silent. Lifting her head finally she murmurs, “I don’t think she would. I think she would have hated him for what he did.”

“Maybe been ashamed of him being her brother.”

“Yes.”

“But not of you.”

“We talked about what happened to my mother. What happened that created me. Some still think of her as a whore because of it, even though she has never slept with a man since. She ... There’s a woman...”

“I understand.”

“She deserves to be loved.”

“I’m glad you think that.”

“I do. I see the richness of their friendship and the secrets they must keep. I know what they do, even if I have never witnessed it. I guess I’ve heard it when they can’t quite keep quiet.”

“The opposite of what happened to you.”

“Yes.”

“Would that be you? Safety in another like you?”

“No.”

“You sound certain.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

She looks up at him and smiles. Her face tinges in a blush. “Because of the strength of my need. My need for a man. It’s why I let myself ignore the danger despite being warned of it since the beginning of my memory. I craved being intimate with a man. The man who might have ... seduced me ... because the desire makes me weak, and my faith struggles to assert itself and comes out defeated, turned everything to shit. But ... I look at you. I see a man. Most certainly a man. But one who looks at me ... I mean, I can see your attraction, but I also see the control. And the compassion. I don’t find that in other men. Not in any man I might want.”

“You want me despite the terrible thing that happened to you so recently?”

“I ... I don’t know. I do know I have never felt so intimate and at the same time so safe with any man before. And I know no one, even my cousin or my mother or my grandfather, who listened to me and talked to me with such equality. Always a dynamic to them. Older. Wiser. More experienced. Whatever. I feel like a person talking to a person who cares about me and what I say. Of course you’re a man and I’m a woman, and I feel that too, but the safeness...”

“So, do you remember if you have passed your normal bleeding?”

It takes a few seconds before she answers, “I think it should have been a week or so ago.”

“And the rape happened...”

“Less than a week before I made my escape here.”

“I have the ability to tell if you are pregnant.”

“Is that possible?”

“Not normally.”

“But you can?”

“Yes. But I’d have to touch you where it grows.”

She stands abruptly “What! Is that how it works? Soften the naïve fool before attacking?”

“No, but I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“You should be.”

“Go ahead to your cabin. I’ll keep my distance, but I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

She stomps off, and he hurries to keep close enough to protect her until she’s back inside her sanctuary. Though he knew the chances were against him, he senses her desire, which makes him offer the touch. Making sure gives him options to protect her and her child, and have her come to terms with her situation. Despite the anger, her reaction makes him smile. He loves strong willed women.

A week passes in which he keeps his distance from her. He lets her approach him when she’s ready, if she ever is. She does at week’s end.

“I think I am pregnant,” she whispers, sitting beside him amongst the missionaries.

“Emotions can sometimes delay the bleeding,” he tells her. “But the timing doesn’t help your cause.”

“Could you really tell, or...”

“I can. It’s one of several unique abilities I have.”

“Such as?”

“I would have to trust you completely.”

“Why would you want me to know?”

“Good question, and even my answer may be in that place of trust.”

“I know you’re different. You don’t seem so very old, and yet somehow you know the place we go, and the language they speak, and unlikely as it is, the captain fully supports your assertion. And how many other experiences? Like when you talked about that legendary emperor of our territory...”

“It’s like it’s me.”

“And that would be impossible.”

“It would be, wouldn’t it?”

“But...”

“I know I stepped over the line when I offered to touch you in such an intimate place. I know trust, especially trusting a man, has never been easy for you, less so now. And yet...”

“You sensed I might accept it. Even welcome it.”

“I honestly wanted to be certain for your sake. I didn’t intend it...”

“Maybe not ... but I might have...”

“I know. It’s what might have allowed it.”

“Because of that ... permission, it would have been more.”

Nick chuckles quietly. “This is exactly why I do want to seduce you. You’re beautiful of course, but I find a clever mind to be the most attractive thing. But despite everything, despite why you would allow my touch, I would have resisted moving on past that touch. I suspected what happened to you, and when you told me, I knew I would be extremely cautious. It would take time, if it ever happened, that you would accept me so intimately.”

Her reaction, the most subtle of giggles, surprises Nick. If any more demonstrative, it would have surprised everyone in the chamber. Because Serena rarely smiles, let alone laughs. Her presence sustains a dark foreboding which keeps any sort of friendship from happening. If not for her usefulness, and not just her sewing, but her intelligence, making religious discussions more compelling, and even communication between the missionaries and the officers and sailors smoother, and done so subtly as to keep men’s fragile egos from being stubbed, she might have been ostracized.

However subtle her amusement, her smile transforms her. A pout soon follows, though her eyes remain twinkling when she warns Nick, “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“My cousin always harps on me not smiling, cause she insists my smile makes me more beautiful.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nick replies, enjoying her surprise. “You are already exquisite, no matter the expression. But you’re ravishingly cute when you smile.”

“Really?”

“It’s breathtaking.”

She stands up and brings her hand down to help him stand, though she’s much smaller. “Come on,” she says.

“You want to be seen leaving with me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Ignoring the looks of shock on the missionaries’ faces, they walk hand in hand out of their presence.

“Where to?” he asks her.

“Your cabin.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

They enter the tiny space, barely large enough for a bed, a table and a chair, that constitutes Nick’s room.

Standing in front of him, a look of determination on her beautiful face, she asks Nick, “You’ll protect me. Everyone knows I’m here with you. Everyone will think I’m a whore. Easy pickings.”

“I’ll protect you. No one will touch you.”

“Except you.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

“May I touch your belly?”

“Yes,” she replies, bringing his big hand to her belly and lifting her blouse to give him access to her firm flesh. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you want me to know?” she asks, keeping his hand there.

“To keep him healthy. And you. I...”

“More unique attributes?”

“Yes.”

“Ready to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Make love to me first.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Nick chuckles before leaning down and kissing her.

“Him, hunh?” she smiles after the first kiss.

“It’ll be a boy.”

She shrugs and pulls him down for more kisses. Her hands unfasten his shirt buttons. When he attempts reciprocation, she brushes away his hand. The kisses end when his shirt opens.

“Take it off,” she insists.

She studies the result, with eyes and hands. Hands move down to remove the rest of his clothes. When his long fat cock bounces free, she stops.

“It’ll fit,” he tells her.

“Promise?”

“I’ll make you ready. I’ll always make it good for you.”

“You better.” She studies it thoroughly, eventually touching it. “It feels ... interesting. And hot. You sure... ?”

“A baby’s head comes out of your pussy. It’s not that large.”

“Almost,” she quips.

“You’re amazing.”

“You too,” she continues studying him.

“You can taste it. Put your lips and tongue on it.”

“People do that?”

“If they want to give extra pleasure.”

“Don’t you piss out of it?”

“It won’t be piss you taste.”

“You mean ... you want me to swallow your cum?”

“It’s one of my attributes. It’s an aphrodisiac. It also has curative powers. It’s what will make your womb strong for your baby.”

“Really?”

“I will never lie to you.”

She looks into his eyes and sees the deep compassion that, more than anything, although his manly beauty is close, has brought her here. Maybe that in itself has been his ruse. Maybe he’s the greatest actor in the world. Except she doesn’t care. She take his glans into her mouth. Lips squeeze and rub the edges. Her tongue tastes, and feels the giving hardness. Soon after, with warning, Nick fills that mouth with ambrosia. Like honeyed cream but better.

Somehow she swallows it down without choking on it. Her eyes look up at his with a combination of pride and delight which makes him chuckle. “Good girl,” he says, pulling her to her feet and kissing her. His hands quietly remove her clothes. He guides her gently onto her back on his bed, completely surprising her when his mouth descends on her pussy. Surprise becomes pure pleasure.

“Oh,” she moans obviously experiencing something new and unexpected. She welcomes the overwhelming feeling inundating her body. When he crawls over her, and his cock presses at her opening, she welcomes it inside her. Feeling hot spurts, and the throbs it causes just inside her, she knows what it is and its taste.

“It will make it less painful,” he explains before kissing her. His hands move to her breasts adding to the state of pleasure she seems to be awash in. Drowning in it, except she can breath, if gaspingly. His mouth moves to add pleasure to her nipples.

He hardens once more and pushes deep inside her. A brief tightening of her body expresses a last moment of fear. She lets it go, feeling the wide swathe he has opened inside her, and the intense rub it creates on the tight flesh pressing against his shifting cock. The more he thrusts, the higher her pleasure. And the faster too. And the harder. She lives in pure ecstasy that somehow gains higher and higher peaks. Until a flurry of short fast thrusts end in him pressing deeper than ever, and the spurts shoot into that depth, and only the first can be felt because her ability to cope with such absolute pleasure has been surpassed and her consciousness disappears.

Her name awakens her. She finds herself blanketing her lover. “You’ll protect me?” she asks him.

“Always. You were willing to sacrifice your place amongst your people for this?”

She giggles. “Soon enough they would have seen my belly grow. I just hurried my shame.”

“You...”

“Ssh. I know. I no longer feel ashamed. It would be them ashamed of me. And now they’ll think it’s yours,” she giggles.

“You will be my shadow. But you’ll need more appropriate clothing.”

“Already done. While delaying this inevitably, I made pantaloons. I will fetch my belongings.”

“We both will. I should ask the captain for a larger room.”

“I don’t mind this if you don’t. Wouldn’t it make me a demanding bitch if you suddenly wanted something better now?”

“I suppose,” he chuckles.

If her fellow missionaries had been shocked by her leaving with Nick, they appear even more shocked when she returns with him and grabs her small bag of belongings. Shocked and disgusted. Except one of the women hides something else. A mix of envy and desire. Nick notices it and catches her stare and winks. She finally looks away, blushing.

Nearly a month goes by before anything comes of that look. Lit by a quarter moon, the young woman finds the cabin door, but inside sees only darkness. She can see a shape loom, rising from a bed and taking a step towards her. Suddenly a match fills the room with light, and a hurricane lamp gets lit by Nick. “Close the door,” he tells her.

“Nick?” Serena murmurs from the small bed.

“We have a visitor.”

Serena turns and smiles at the woman. “Come for me or Nick?” she asks.

“Uhm. Maybe I should...”

“You should stay,” Nick smiles. “You’ve been brave enough to come here.”

“Weak enough you mean,” the woman argues, bowing her head.

“I felt the heat of your eyes on me,” Serena says. “Have I become wanton enough to hopefully accept your desire?”

The woman sniffles.

“Ssh,” Nick comforts. “Sit.” He guides her to the chair.

Serena also sits up, uncovering her naked body for the woman.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” says Nick.

“Nick said you might come,” Serena explains. “He also said I would need to accept his ways.”

“What do you mean?” asks a genuinely curious woman, though her study of Serena’s body continues.

“He can never be exclusive with me. His very nature prevents it. I never thought I would want to join him.”

“You must have been jealous.”

“What’s the point? Fighting against his nature would only make both of us unhappy. But he wanted to give me the possibility of joining him. To see if I might get enjoyment out of it. Turns out I just might. Guess who he imagined would be in bed with us?” She leans forward and begins stripping her former colleague. “Again I ask, is it him you wish to visit, or me?” She removes the blouse.