Chapter 22: A Three Hour Tour

Carina wasn’t able to get even a rise out of me Tuesday night, so we just cuddled and talked. But Wednesday morning, just before dawn, she was able to get what she wanted as first she rode me to a series of gentle climaxes and then I turned us over and plowed her pussy with jack rabbit thrusts until we were both coming again.

Then I quietly made my way back to my room. I had to stand naked in the hall again until Rachel let me in. She took a long look at me and pronounced me good, then sent me to the shower. When I came out, there was a note telling me to meet Reggie in the dining room downstairs. Rachel had already gone back to sleep.

“How’s Carina?” Reggie asked when I sat down. I was surprised because he always said he didn’t keep up with my sex life. I looked at him, confused. I knew Carina was his little sister, but this was the first time he had ever ask me about her.

“There are cameras in all the hallways. I had my men monitoring the top floor throughout the night as a precaution,” he explained.

We had just helped ourselves to the buffet when Andreza, Isabella and the twins joined us. They quickly served themselves from the buffet and we all settled into the corner table to eat.

“Have you determined which direction you’ll go?” Reggie asked.

“I think we’re going to go south, towards Key West and then back north into the gulf. We’re less likely to run into roaming task forces and still have plenty of consumer yacht traffic to hide among.”

“They think that Strawbourn might be here,” Reggie started. Of course, that got everyone’s attention.

“Somebody was swimming around the yacht last night. Fortunately, they had the yacht’s underwater lights on all night. Whoever it was never got close enough to do anything, but they definitely saw the evidence of underwater sea scooter use,” Reggie said. “When we get to the yacht, can you go under and check things out without drawing attention to yourself?” he asked.

“No problem!” I replied.

“Then I want you to surface in plain sight at the swim platform and after changing into some decent clothes, check out the yacht for any extra eyes and ears. If you find them, destroy them!” he said angrily.

“What about the Secret Service?” I asked.

“Let these ladies do their jobs. Don’t speak to the Feds or even look at them funny. And for god’s sake, don’t tase them, or whatever you call it.”

“Okay ... no tasing the other children,” I replied.”

“Your first interview is with “Yachting News at nine, followed by a series of six minute spots with a few of the local media and the vloggers. The last one is that famous couple that does tours of yachts. They were here yesterday getting background and will probably take about twenty to thirty minutes to shoot their vlog. Let them go and do not appear on camera with them at any time. In fact, that might be a good time for you to disappear.”

“Okay...”

“Alexey (Mikhaylov) will be posted in the Bering booth next to your passerelle and will handle the rest of the interviews from there. At ten-thirty, the ship, except for you, will be cleared and the Secret Service will do another sweep. Then, the rest of your family will be allowed to board.

“At eleven-fifteen, Alexey will welcome the First Lady and shortly thereafter, he’ll escort her onboard. She will be accompanied by two female agents, who’s stuff is already stored in Crew Quarters Number Two, as per your instructions. From that point, no one else will be allowed to board, supposedly until the First Lady has returned.

“When Alexey disembarks, that’s your signal to get underway. The United States Fleet Forces Command in Hampton Roads has assigned the USS Alvin Childress, an Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer to be your only authorized escort. Any others are fair game. The Childress is currently headed to the Gulf of Mexico and they will be tracking you through a special satellite transponder on board the Cécile and will continue to do so until the First Lady is no longer onboard.

“Should you need the Childress, there is a special radio in your pilot house. It would be considered polite to stay in touch with them and inform them of any anticipated course deviations. That radio is considered secure by the Secret Service.

“The two female agents going with you have agreed that as long as the First Lady is onboard, they will follow your command unless they present a danger to the First Lady. They are aware of your age. And also aware of your lifestyle.”

“Are they aware that the First Lady might want more healing?” I asked.

“It has not been discussed in my presence, that I know of. Only that they are to respect her wishes as long as she does not place herself in danger.”

“Lastly, there have been two special life rafts installed on the upper decks. They operate just like the others, but are for the First Lady, if necessary.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything,” I told him.

“I hope! But you know what they say about God laughing at the plans of men...” he sighed. “I wish I could tell you what Strawbourn is going to do, but we seem to have been a few steps behind him the whole way.”

As we walked down the pier towards the Cécile, I slipped behind an empty display and quickly disrobed. Then, giving my clothes to Samantha, I slid quietly into the water with only the flashlight Reggie had given me, strapped to my wrist. Then I swam slowly, looking in every direction. Not only did I check out the entire hull, but the pier where she was moored in both directions for as far as I could go.

When I surfaced, I shook my head negatively to Reggie and then climbed on the swim platform and gratefully accepted the towel from Sarah. Wrapping it around my waist, I headed for my stateroom. Our stuff had already been moved back to the Captain’s cabin so that the First Lady could have the Owner’s Suite.

After showering and dressing in clothes that someone had laid out for me, I began a long slow journey throughout the entire yacht. I did find a microphone and camera in the pilothouse and destroyed it on the spot. I heard some shouting out on the dock, but ignored it. I’d do as Reggie said and let the others handle the Secret Service. I also found and left alone, the special satellite transponder.

After exploring the entire yacht including crawling the length of the hull down in the holds, I was satisfied that there were no more electronic surprises. It was close to nine so I made my way to the salon where the interviews were to be held.

I think the Golf Channel could learn a thing or two from the Secret Service because the interviews went off without a hitch and ended promptly on time. The couple doing the internet tour of the Cécile wanted to talk to me, but the Secret Service cut them off and I disappeared up to the pilothouse. I’d have to abandon the pilothouse for a few minutes when the internet couple arrived there, but that would be no problem.

Having finished their video tour of the yacht, the internet couple were gone and my family was on board by eleven o’clock and true to the schedule, the First Lady arrived at the booth at eleven-fifteen. She was interviewed along with Alexey for five minutes and then finally boarded the Cécile for her tour.

This had been the time for the most tension because the First Lady was so exposed out on the pier and in the booth. The Secret Service heaved a sigh of relief when she finally boarded, even though they couldn’t be here with her, except for her two female agents, who I gathered, weren’t really held in high esteem by their male counterparts.

Finally, Alexey departed, the passerelle was pulled in, the lines were tended, and Captain Alfred used the thrusters to push us away from the pier. I noticed that both Captains had on flak jackets and helmets, just as they would on their destroyers in real combat scenarios.

We slowly began making our way out of the marina as the press was being told that the First Lady and other passengers were setting sail for a three hour tour ... a three hour tour.

Fortunately, the weather didn’t start getting rough.

We actually had fairly smooth sailing as we brought the Cécile up to four knots until we cleared the shelf just out of the harbor. There, we pushed her up to her cruising speed of nine knots and turned southeast.

The further we got away from Fort Lauderdale, the less tension there was on the bridge. The officers removed their flak jacket and helmets and began to shed their clothes.

“So we’re still heading for Key West?” Captain Tony asked. They both looked at me.

“I spoke with the President last night and agreed to deliver the First Lady to the Venice Yacht Club. They have a home in the area and the three days or so it will take us to get there will allow him the time to arrange adequate protection for her there,” I told them.

“Then the Venice Yacht Club it is!” said Captain Alfred. Our plans, filed with the USS Alvin Childress, called for us meeting them in the Gulf of Mexico and just cruising around for a couple of days.

Once we were beyond the three mile territorial limit, I began removing my clothes and threw them in my cabin as I headed downstairs. Most of the adult ladies were in the salon. The teens had gone to their cabins to get out of their clothes.

“They’re headed to the helipad to catch some sun,” Mom said. Then one-by-one the others ladies excused themselves and then returned without their clothes.