Chapter 4

Berwick is an ancient walled town just by the English/Scottish border, redolent with history. The harbour is actually on the wrong side of the river for the town which has spread, as you'd expect, far outside the old walls. We had a bit of a walk to get into the old town and we were tottering a bit. When you've been on a boat in rough weather, you feel the land is moving about under your feet when you do finally make harbour, but we managed. She slipped her hand into mine as we crossed the bridge and I looked down. Our eyes met and I could see the appeal in them.

"It'll be okay," I said, and she smiled.

As we walked we passed a small restaurant – 'Amaryllis' – it was past mid-day, so we went in and ordered. I can not, in all honesty, say what we ate, or what it was like; I was far too aware of Grace, wondering how I could have thought her face too thin. Our stomachs pacified, we carried on walking. We found ourselves on the 'Rampart' looking out to sea. We found a bench-seat; somehow, without speaking, I found we were seated with Grace tucked under my left arm, snuggling in against me.

"Would you like to talk some more now, or rather wait until the morning?" I kept my tone neutral as far as I could.

"Now is good," she said.

"Do you still want to ... sleep with me?" I stumbled over the last words, unsure how to put it.

"Yes." Her tone was very definite. "Yes, I do, very much. But ... only if you're comfortable with it."

"Oh, I am. I..." I trailed off, wondering how to put into words what I was feeling, when I was unsure myself. "Grace, would you like to go to a hotel for the night?"

"NO!" The violence of her response shocked me for a moment, then I realised my mistake.

"I'm sorry, Grace. That was not a good idea, was it?"

"I want Serendipity," she said. "I don't mind if it's your cabin or mine, but I want it to be on board Serendipity."

We made our way back, calling in on a baker and a delicatessen for some delicacies for tea; crusty bread, salami, cheeses, cake, then a grocer for fruit and salad things.

Serendipity has two ways to heat the saloon, a necessity, sometimes. There's a diesel-oil heater that uses oil from the fuel tank for the motor. Effective and easy to control – you just have to be careful not to run your fuel supply short. But there's also a small solid-fuel stove. I sometimes burn drift-wood or off-cuts from the boat yard. Occasionally, smokeless fuel. It's not so easy to control and the saloon can get uncomfortably hot, but it's a really good way to dry the boat out. In a moment of inspiration, I picked up a bag of small logs from a hardware shop.

In April, the air is often cool and damp, especially further north and on water, so back at the boat I lit the stove. It takes time to get the fire established. But we sat and munched salad and whatever sandwiches, sipped tea. I put a kettle on the top of the stove to boil and every so often gave the fire a poke or fed it more fuel.

We finished eating, washed up the few odds and ends and looked at each other. The cabin was warming up and Grace stripped off her jumper.

"Um..." she began, "getting warm."

"Aye," I smiled, "part of the plan." I folded the table away, leaving a space in the middle. "I thought we might start with a bath. It'll be primitive, but I think you'll enjoy it."

I emptied the kettles into a large bowl by the stove, refilled them and set them to heat again, then added cold water to the bowl.

"I'm afraid you'll have to undress..." I smiled at her.

She coloured, but, her eyes on me, unbuttoned her slacks and peeled them down her legs. I realised that this was, in a way, a test, that she'd be watching for any sign that I doubted her desirability. But it wasn't much of a test. I had, briefly, seen her naked before, of course. This time, I was looking at her with a different attitude and perspective. Removing her slacks, woolly tights and sea-boot socks revealed slim but shapely legs.

"Very nice," I commented.

She paused, checking my sincerity, I supposed, then unbuttoned her blouse, revealing smallish breasts in a very plain, white bra, and a neat waist, swelling out to nicely proportioned hips in a very plain, white, pair of panties. She had that space between the tops of her thighs that should be there.

"Mmmm..." I murmured. "Don't stop."

Her colour darkened, but she reached behind and unhooked the bra. You know how a stripper holds the bra with her arm, delaying the moment of revelation? That's what she did. I don't think it was a deliberate tease, but that was the effect, then she opened up and tossed the bra aside before peeling off those panties.

I was getting pretty hot myself – in more ways than one – and peeled off my sweater and top, leaving just a t-shirt, then fetched a bucket.

"Just step in the bowl, Grace, will you? Unless I've got the water too hot or too cold."

She dipped a toe in. "Feels a bit hot, but it'll be okay, I think," and stepped in. I washed her, gently and comprehensively, using the bucket to squeeze as much as possible of the soapy water out of the flannel I was using. I did, however, find it necessary to use my hands to spread the soap ... her body felt good under my hands. Rinsed off, I patted her dry with my fluffiest bath-sheet.

"My turn, now," I said, stripping off. She must have seen plenty of male bodies in her career, but it didn't stop her examining me at least as closely as I'd watched her.

"Shall I ... can I ... wash you?"

"I was hoping you would," I said.

It was a little difficult for her in view of the difference in our heights, so I washed my own face and neck, but she took over for the rest. Being washed, comprehensively, by an attractive, naked young woman had the inevitable effect.

"Wow ... is this all for me?" she asked as her soapy hands slid over my erect manhood.

"Absolutely," I answered, "though not quite yet."

Dried, we went naked to her cabin. Which was significantly cooler than the saloon, so we dived under the duvet and huddled together as we warmed the bed up. It was an opportunity to kiss. She was clearly inexperienced, but so sweet and so enthusiastic it was very enjoyable. Enjoyable? It was indescribable, actually. Once we were warm, I ducked down to suckle on her breasts. At first, after a gasp, she protested.

"They're so small..."

I stopped and moved up so we were eye to eye. "Grace, I can't think of any woman who I've met who thought her breasts were large enough. Yours are perfect."

"But..."

"Don't you like what I'm doing?"

"Yes, but..."

"Sweetheart, I'm enjoying myself. That's what this is supposed to be about. I want to please you, but I'm pleasing myself at the same time. If I do anything, anything, you don't like, or upsets you, or is uncomfortable, you say and I'll stop. Okay?"

I hope she read the truth of it in my face, but whether or not, she relaxed and nodded. I went back to what I was doing, and added caressing her body. I was pleased when her hands began stroking me, too, and she started making little sounds; hums, sighs and gasps of pleasure.

When my hand found its way to her mound, she initially tensed up and clamped her legs together, which wasn't entirely effective anyway, but soon enough she relaxed again and I gently stroked her. She seemed happy with that, and I gradually kissed my way south while continuing to fondle one breast. She realised too late what I was about to do and my first lick seemed to overcome any resistance as the sounds of pleasure increased in volume and frequency. When she came I didn't keep going, which I usually would, but slid up and entered her smoothly. We weren't quite face to face, of course, but by arching my back, I could look her in the eye and dip my head to kiss her. Her eyes widened as I watched.

I held still, deep inside her. "How do you feel?" I asked gently.

"I ... you ... I ... feel ... good. Really good. I've heard of it, but I never thought any man would want to put his mouth on me like that."

"Why-ever not? You are one beautiful, sexy woman. You smell and taste delicious, and I have every intention of doing that as often as I can, if you'll let me."

She smiled and shook her head slightly. "I think you're just trying to build me up."

"You'll see," I said, as I began to move in her. She really was responsive and climaxed a couple more times before I did. As I slipped out of her, I grabbed a couple of hand-towels I'd left by the bed to mop up, rolled on my back and pulled her against me, so she was tucked under my arm with her head on my chest. That meant one hand could stroke her back, while the other was free to explore from her thigh up.

"Lovely skin," I said, stroking, "perfect curves," stroking from hip to waist, then up higher, "and pretty breasts," not that I could reach more than half of one.

She purred. "You may be a flatterer, but you do make me feel good."