Chapter 6

Saturday, 17^th April, At anchor off Lindisfarne Island. Normally, I'm easily woken. Especially when my bed-partner leaves it, but I woke to the smell of coffee and when I opened my eyes, saw the mug was held out to me by a naked and smiling Grace.

"There's a sight for sore eyes. You keep thinking of different ways of making waking up worthwhile," I smiled. "I hope you're planning on coming back to bed while I drink this," as I hunched up the bed, leaned back on a pillow and took the mug from her.

"Oh, yes," she held up her own mug, " you only need one hand to drink that and I want the other one on me." She lifted the duvet and slipped under it, leaning back against me, my arm round her back. Her skin was cool at first, but soon matched mine. My hand, initially on her tummy, stroked upwards until I was cupping and caressing her breast. "You don't miss a chance to play with my tits, do you? It's still hard for me to believe, but I suppose you must like them."

"There's an old joke about men and breasts," I said, squeezing gently.

"Go on..." said with a theatrical sigh.

"There's only one question in a man's mind; it's not how big are they, or how firm are they, or do they sag ... No the only question is, 'can I touch them'? If the answer is 'yes' then they're perfect."

"Humph! So ... you like them because you can touch them?"

I stroked the side of said breast absently, aware of the silky smooth skin and firm flesh.

"Not because. I like touching them, and I like looking at them. They're ... satisfying. Lovely shape, just the right size for the rest of you, and they're symmetrical. But most of all, Grace, I like them because they're yours."

The way we were sitting, I couldn't see her face, but the cheek I could see darkened with colour, perceptible even in the gloom, and the flush spread to her shoulders. I took a drink of coffee. But then, she placed her mug on the ledge by the bed, took mine and put it with hers, and turned to me; she straddled my thighs so she was facing me, and looked intensely into my eyes. What she saw there must have pleased her as she smiled, took my hands and placed one on each breast, then cupped my face in her hands, leaned forward, and kissed me.

She broke the kiss after ... quite a long time and sat back on my thighs, looking very serious. "I..." whatever she was going to say, she broke off and shut her mouth, got off me and went back to the way we'd been before. "We'd better have our drinks," she said, passing me my cooling coffee and reaching for her herbal whatever. I was roused. Who wouldn't be? But I was thinking, too, thoughts that took the starch out of my equipment. I was thinking that this was one woman it was going to be very difficult to say goodbye to. Scary thought, scary.

She broke in on those thoughts. "Porridge for breakfast? Grilled bacon?"

"Sounds good," I said, out of a suddenly dry mouth.

We finished our drinks, and Grace got out of bed; she moved around the small cabin and I thought how her name suited her, so I said so.

She smiled, a little sadly, "I was going to be a dancer," she said, "until I was eleven and decided I'd rather be a nurse. I had eight years of ballet, and only gave up to concentrate on exams."

I watched her collect her clothes and dress. I think she was ... displaying herself, for me, deliberately. I got up myself as she left the cabin.

I watched her at work in the galley; slim despite the thick Arran knit roll-neck sweater, those pretty breasts just perceptible mounds ... the concealing, now I knew what lay beneath, as tempting as nudity. She made fresh coffee, and tea for herself ... porridge, bacon sandwiches for me and fried Sosmix for her. We were under way by nine o' clock, had made an offing (got clear of the land) and were on course east of north by ten, intending to pass eventually by Peterhead, roughly one hundred and twenty miles to the north. I reckoned on making about four knots on average, though with the steady west-south-west force five, and with all plain sail set, we were making a good six knots initially. But four knots would have us by Peterhead in the afternoon of the next day. Deo volente, of course. Incidentally, you probably think, rightly, I don't have much time for religion, but you can't have much to do with the sea and be an atheist. Well, you could, I suppose, but I can't.

We took turns with the wheel, of about an hour. Whoever was not at the wheel did whatever else was necessary, there's usually something to do on a sailing boat. With stable conditions, as Grace was getting quite used to ship-board life, cooking underway became more practical, and having proper hot drinks, too. Grace cooked our lunch; she poached a pair of kippers and we ate kipper between slices of bread. She persuaded me to try Rooibos – Redbush – tea. I had to admit it was okay, but pointed out I was used to a regular caffeine fix. She took a spell at the wheel after lunch, during which we had some sun emerge. It doesn't get really hot on board a boat in the North Sea often, but it was warm enough that I was down to t-shirt and trousers by the time I took over. She disappeared below and emerged in her birthday suit.

"Very nice," I complimented, "but you'd better put on sun-screen. All over. I'd hate for you to get burnt. And I'll point out we're right on the ferry route from Edinburgh to Zeebrugge."

"Do you mind?"

"Mind? What, about the ferries?"

She nodded.

"Not at all. Let them be green with envy. You'll find the sunscreen in the locker above the chart-table."

She disappeared below, reappearing with the bottle. "If I take the wheel, will you put it on me?"

I leered as theatrically as I could – I am no actor – and said "It will be my pleasure, Madam."

She giggled and I stepped back so she could take over and, once she was settled at the wheel, began to smooth the lotion on her arms; she made humming noises that I interpreted as pleasure, which intensified as I caressed her back in the process of applying the liquid; moving down, her buttocks, thighs and legs, finally her feet. I then, having protected the parts directly exposed to the sun, carefully lotioned her face before beginning the much more intimate process of covering her front. Leaving her breasts and pubis to last, she was still humming and sighing as I stroked the stuff onto her skin.

When my hands touched her breasts she sagged back against me, groaning; I wrapped my arms round and supported her for a few seconds. As she straightened up again, I added more sun-screen to my hands and ... reached for her groin.

"Oh, God..."

"No, only me." I spread lotion over her – already very slippery – labia and the junction of her legs, then, delicately, flicked her clit. She exploded into orgasm and I had to support her while, at the same time, keeping an eye on our course.

"Oh, wow..." Her voice was a little shaky. "That was ... out of this world. Ted..." she stopped.

"Go on..." it was really very pleasurable holding her, this naked, sexy nymph.

"Can I ... do the same to you? Please?"

I thought about it. I was not especially comfortable with the idea, and I wondered why. But then I thought of Grace, and how she'd ventured into a strange world, seeking adventure.

"Can you stand?" I asked, my hands cupping her breasts.

"I'm not sure I want to ... but, yes." She stood straight and I stepped back before stripping off my t-shirt, deck-shoes, trousers and boxers.

I then stepped back to her and held her again, so she felt my naked body against her back, reached round for the wheel and she turned in the circle of my arms and kissed me, before ducking under my arm and reaching for the lotion.

The process of having the sun-screen applied to my naked body, while I was trying to maintain a steady course, the feel of her soft hands on my skin and, after a while, the pressure of her breasts on my back as she smoothed the lotion on my front ... incredible. Her nipples scraping on the skin of my back as she slid down to reach my legs and feet...

Then she reached my groin and found the erection that was a tribute to her body and actions.

"Tell me when you're going to come," she instructed.

I thought... 'it's going to make a mess ... but what the hell, it'll be worth it.'

There was no mess. When I said, "I'm going to come..." she slipped immediately round and fastened her lips over me, so I came in her mouth. Later I wondered what the sun-screen tasted like...

Even in the sun, it wasn't especially hot. When it was time for me to take a turn preparing our tea, Grace reluctantly found t-shirt and slacks before taking over at the helm. We ate tuna stir-fry in the cockpit as the sun dipped below the horizon, Serendipity holding her course, near enough, with the wheel locked.

"Why didn't you lock the wheel and trim earlier?"

"Well, it was fun having you trying to concentrate and with your hands occupied ... wasn't it?"

She laughed. "Oh, my, yes. Awesome!"

I took myself off to bed for a couple of hours. I actually slept, and took over from Grace a little after ten. I was a little surprised when she reappeared just before one.

"I woke up," she said, standing close and wrapping her arm round me. "Shall I do another trick at the wheel?"

"Sure, if you like. Two hours?"

"Fine. Can I have a kiss before you go?"

I wrapped my arm round her shoulders and pressed my lips to hers. "There shouldn't be any problems, but we are getting close to the sea lanes from Aberdeen, so keep a good look-out."

"I will. Ted?"

"Yes?"

"Sleep in my bed, please."

I kissed her again and went below; relieved my bladder and fell into her bed half-dressed. I lay there for a few minutes. I realised as I thought over the last – was it really only eleven days? - that this was a relationship unlike any other I had had. Grace and I ... touched each other, incessantly. We sat or stood close; it was natural to hold hands, or slip an arm round the waist or shoulders. That may not sound much, but previous relationships had been much more pragmatic; we were either getting on with life, or enjoying sex. This was different. I fell asleep, wondering.