Chapter 2

Phil Morton decided she was an asset, a 'good 'un'. Her dinghy sailing meant she had a good grasp of sailing theory. She was bright and rapidly learned which ropes were which and what to do with them. She could keep a straight course rather than a constant slight weave, more an art than a science with a Thames barge. A couple of cruises with Jenni Peters in Reminder were followed by short day-sails with a selection of other skippers; down to earth Bex, old Bert Sadler, gruff but expert, Ted Quinton, youngish, an escapee from city life ... in different barges, Thistle and Hydrogen.

A family trip in a privately owned barge, Lady Jean, treated as a member of the family.

Then a passage to London with Bert, as Mate, in Hydrogen. "It's maybe a bit early to rate you as Mate when we're carrying passengers, but you'll do for this. Hydrogen will be staying in London for a few weeks; you can live on board."

Whilst there, her twentieth birthday came round. It was something of a surprise to her to realise. Something prompted her to ring her parents; she found a payphone ... eventually ... and dialled the number.

A familiar man's voice.

"Hello, Dad?"

Click. Buzz.

Walking, blindly, back to Hydrogen before the tears came in earnest.

She cried herself out and put the kettle on for tea, not hearing the boots on the companionway.

"Lindy? Hi, there. Glad you're here. We've got a day-sail ... Lindy?"

"Oh, hi there, Ted. What's that?"

"Are you okay, petal?"

"I'm fine!"

"Really?" He did not sound convinced, but left it there anyway. "Kettle on? Good! I need coffee. Hope there's some decent coffee on board?"

"Nescafe?"

"I said decent coffee, girl. There's no such thing as an instant decent coffee."

"Oh ... I think there's some ground somewhere..." She found a bag of Sainsbury's Rich Roast, taped shut, and ladled some into a cafetiere, added hot water and stirred, before making sure the kettle was boiling properly so she could pour boiling water on her Earl Grey tea-bag.

They sat, together yet apart, and sipped at their beverages. Ted waited until they were about half way down their mugs.

"Now, then, Lindy. Suppose you tell me the truth now."

She looked at him, nervously.

"I don't bite, you know," he said gently.

She looked into her mug as if divining an answer in the copper-coloured fluid.

"It's my birthday."

"Well, many happy returns."

"Thanks." Said flatly.

"Come on, there's more, isn't there?"

"I rang home."

"Uh huh?"

"My father hung up when he heard my voice."

"Oh, shit..."

The evident sympathy in the brief expletive was too much and Belinda dissolved into tears again.

His arm, warm and comforting round her shoulders as she sobbed against his chest.

A sort of calm, eventually, as she ran out of tears to shed and just leaned against him.

The slow growth of something very different, fluttery, in her middle, connected with his arm, his chest, his heartbeat.

Withdrawing a little. "Thanks. I mean, really, thanks."

"My pleasure." It sounded as though he meant it. "We can't let a birthday go by without a celebration, though. Do you like Chinese? Italian? Indian? Thai? Japanese?"

She giggled a little. "Anything except Sushi or Szechuan."

"Fine. There's a nice little Italian place not too far away. Let's go there."

'Not too far' meant about half an hour's walk. Belinda didn't mind a bit. Ted ushered her into 'Trattoria Lorenza'.

"Ah! Signore Quinton! And this affascinante giovane donna?"

"Giulio! This is Belinda Masters, who is sailing with me on Hydrogen."

"Bella signorina ... does he make you haul on ropes?"

She laughed. "No ... he doesn't need to make me, I like to do it."

He shrugged extravagantly, "Ah ... no understanding donne ... But ... a table for two?"

"Yes, please, Giulio," Ted said, "and we'll leave the choice to you and Signora Lorenza."

"Molto bene! We will ... bless your taste-buds."

After a couple of hours, Belinda felt that her taste-buds had been blessed indeed. The meal, accompanied by an excellent red wine recommended by Giulio had her very mellow indeed, though by no means drunk. They walked back to Hydrogen. Belinda walked close to Ted. She was very tempted to take his hand, but was unsure ... of herself and of him.

As they stepped onto the deck, she took the bull by the horns. "Ted, are you attached? Do you have a ... significant other?" She laid a hand on each forearm and held him firmly.

"My last girlfriend said goodbye a week ago. She's off to the Riviera helping to deliver a new yacht. I doubt she'll be back and if she does return, she won't expect to come back to me."

She was silent for a few minutes. "Does that mean there's a vacancy?"

"I suppose it does. Do you want to apply for the position?"

"I ... are you teasing me?"

"A little."

"Ted, I don't know what I want. But I do know I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Then join me in the Master's cabin, tonight? I don't know about you, but I'd like a cup of tea just now."

Belinda laughed. "That sounds just the ticket!"

She was feeling ... puzzled. What had happened to her? Okay, she'd had quite a lot of wine and was happy, but not drunk, yet she was heading rapidly towards sleeping with Ted, who she'd worked with, but never really felt close to. In fact, she knew, from Jenni that he usually had a girlfriend of some sort, and for the most part they lived with him in that boat of his, but that none of them lasted long. Did she want to be a temporary girlfriend? Well, he'd come at the right time when she was at a low ebb and he'd been rather sweet taking her to that Italian place. Then, that man ... Giulio ... seemed to like him.

It was getting late; tea had been made and drunk, along with plenty of water. Belinda was tired, a little nervous, but also curious.

"I think it's bedtime, Lindy" Ted said. "you're welcome to join me, or you can go to the fo'c'sle. I won't be offended."

"I said I didn't want to be alone, and I meant it," she said firmly.

Ted had often wondered about Belinda Masters. She was obviously pretty, and though her figure was usually obscured by the rough clothing called for by barge life, the dress she'd worn to eat out showed she was shapely too. Her husky contralto was definitely sexy, though almost certainly that was unconscious, he thought. She didn't fit into the 'boat-bunny' mould, though; she was like Jenni Peters, a sailor first and a woman second. He didn't want any entanglements, though.

She'd made up her mind. Ted Quinton hadn't pushed her at all. He'd been kind and treated her well, made her evening special and she thought he was quite attractive, in a way. She wasn't the sort of girl who jumped into bed with just anyone, though she'd slept with Charles on the basis of gratitude and liking ... She stood and made her way to the companionway, followed by Ted, then to the Master's cabin, where she initiated a kiss that he rapidly took control of, though he still didn't dominate her to the point she was unable to retreat if she wished. Charles had never kissed her like that and she felt her knees going weak.

When he drew back she tightened her arms around his neck and fastened her lips on his once more. His hands began to wander, caressing her back, her shoulders ... her buttocks. A warmth began to grow, a sort of hunger, focussed somewhere in her pelvis, and she pressed against the substantial lump in his trousers. Suddenly, she pulled away and he wondered if she'd got cold feet, but instead she reached behind herself and he heard the faint whisper of a zip; then the dress floated down, revealing plain white bra and panties. It was so quick he was behind in undressing himself, but made haste as soon as his brain caught up. She stood, nude, hands at her side, nervous but resisting the temptation to try to cover up with her hands, as he removed the last of his own garments and stepped toward her.

She thought he looked ... manly. He thought she looked gorgeous. The lighting was not bright, of course. Reaching out, he trailed his fingers down her cheek, her neck, her shoulders, to the upper slopes of her breasts and she shivered, but wrapped her arms round his neck again as he dipped his head, this time he was initiating the kiss. His hands were on each side of her chest, the thumbs stroking the underside of her breasts as she moved against him, trapping his burgeoning erection. They both made inarticulate sounds as their bodies' demands began to overwhelm them. Ted moved then, to pick her up and lay her on the bed; she spread herself in invitation, but instead of moving on top of her, he first stooped to kiss, suck and nibble gently on her nipples. Surprise or passion made her squeak, but he continued, his hands exploring her; initially her sides, her waist, her hips, her thighs, then as she began to make higher-pitched mewling sounds, her inner thighs and finally, gently, teasingly, her labia and slit.

He took her by surprise again when he dipped down to bury his face in her pussy, which was wet and sweetly aromatic. His first lick produced some sounds which later he could only describe as 'chirrups', reminding him of a small songbird. Which blended into a warbling sound as she lifted her hips and shuddered in orgasm.

He fumbled for a condom, but she managed to gasp, "On the pill..."

He covered her, entered her, urgently seeking his own completion as she orgasmed yet again, her vagina clamping down on him as he came.

He made to roll off, but she clung to him, pushing against him to hold him inside her. "No, stay, please. Just a little while..." little more than a whisper. "Wow ... Ted ... I ... oh, my..." a deep breath, then, "got any tissues?"

"Of course. I was a Sea-Scout."

With a wad in place, she moulded herself against him. "Wonderful..." she said, and slept as Ted held her, very aware of the pressure of her against him. He gently stroked wisps of hair away from her face, caressed her cheek and her shoulder, then he, too, slept.

When she woke, she was alone and realised she was disappointed to be so, but looking at her watch, it was almost eight o'clock so she got herself up, washed ... thoroughly ... cleaned her teeth and dressed in her work gear. She found Ted cooking breakfast.