Chapter 1

A hum filled Lynn Shaffer's ears as she began to arouse herself from her half-sleep. She was dimly aware of a delicious warmth which permeated her entire body, forming tiny beads of perspiration on her forehead and letting a faint dampness invade the sheltered places beneath her arms and down between her small, smoothly rounded thighs. She rolled over onto her back, vaguely conscious now of the texture of the terrycloth towel which lay beneath her, and of the sweltering sun standing high over her in the cloudless Caribbean sky.

The hum grew louder as she began to wake up. She wondered vaguely what it was, and then remembered. Of course. The Vera's motor. Harry Johnson's motor yacht. She thought perhaps the yacht had ceased its gently rhythmic rolling motion, a rolling that had coddled her to sleep on the deck just like her water bed at home, but then had decided it had not.

"Mmmm... Mark?" Lynn murmured quietly, and a faint smile tried to awaken her still sleeping mouth. It was a small mouth, mischievous, almost pixyish but not quite. There were a few strands of long, blonde hair stuck to the dryness of her lips, and she unconsciously pulled them away, licking her lips into life at the same time.

Lynn Shaffer was a small woman, with a neatly formed, symmetrical body, that made one think immediately of a physically mature 16 year-old. And even though Lynn was 30, her face bore none of the traces of wear that begin to worry so many women of that age. Her secret was that she had kept a great deal of the child in her; not consciously, but with an unpretentiousness and ease which was immediately apparent to anyone who looked at her. She had rather large, softly luminous brown eyes, and a slightly turned-up nose, which only combined once again to give her face a childish innocence and a look of boundless energy.

The wind had veered since morning, and now played a cool and refreshing game with the tiny blonde hairs on Lynn's smooth, lovely arms as she lay on the bobbing ship-deck. She sighed pleasurably. Hmm, that felt good. She reached up and loosened the top of her small bikini slightly, and let the wind's freshness drive out some of the heat and dampness from between her firmly rounded breasts. She stretched an arm lazily across her softly flat belly, raised a knee and spread her legs slightly apart to let the air circulate up between her thighs, all the way up to where a few tightly curled pubic hairs managed to escape from the confining grasp of her bikini.

She thought about the last day and a half, and decided she had done a good job. Her husband, Mark, had told her to be friendly to Harry Johnson, and had said that the sale of Mark's used car lot to Harry might depend on the impression they gave him this week. And Lynn had done her best. She instinctively knew when men found her attractive and entertaining, and she knew that Harry Johnson was now numbered among those men. There was nothing premeditated in this, for Lynn was definitely not a scheming woman; it simply grew out of her own vivaciousness and joy. Johnson had been attentive since they had set sail, and Lynn felt now that he was won over.

Harry Johnson was a different man on this cruise than he was at the office, she decided. Here on the boat he was relaxed and very friendly, but at the office... Lynn had worked as a part-time bookkeeper for Harry's used car business for six months now, and had gotten to know first-hand the hard sell drive that had made his lot the largest in Marina, her home town. At first it had seemed strange to be working for someone who was competing with her husband's own car business, but Mark's lot was so small, and they did need the money. Besides, Mark had finally agreed, and had even helped her get the job. Still, she knew that Mark didn't really like the idea, even though she was helping to make ends meet.