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Island Recess, Chapter 10.
The misty sunlight cast a hazy lemon glow over the
waking island. Still early morning, and the town already stirred with life as it
was high noon on a market day. Standing once more outside her apartment block,
Helena and her companions breathed a collective sigh of relief. Though what
passed for the front lawn was peppered with debris cast aside by the storm, the
building itself stood untouched. From their vantage point on the sodden grass,
they could see that even Helena’s tottery tripod barbeque remained upright on
the third floor balcony. The rest of the island had not fared so well. Driving
back through the still-swamped streets, the trio had been dismayed to see the
extent of the damage done by the storm. Although just tapped by a flick of the
hurricane’s tail-end, little of the community had escaped unscathed. Screen
doors, window shutters, street signs and uprooted plants were only a few of the
items littered over walkways and yards. Yet spirits were high. Driving
cautiously down winding side streets, threading their way around the wind-tossed
debris, they were surprised at the number of individuals who turned to wave, or
to smile a greeting, despite the obvious damage facing them. Surely it would be
days, even weeks, before the community returned to business-as-usual. And yet
despite the damages sustained by public and private property alike, there had
been only minor injuries reported among the community members. It was for this
reason that the locals would, at least for the time being, overlook the ruin of
their property out of gratitude for their very lives. Ben had been doubly lucky.
His brown eyes glistened as Helena threw her arms around his bony shoulders, and
even Neil seemed to be momentarily speechless as he patted the elderly landlord
on the back.
“Okay, time to get to work,” Neil said finally, and with blustery enthusiasm.
From the front seat of the truck, Morris set up a pitiable howl.
“Ben, would you mind awfully if Morris sat on the balcony?”
The landlord waved away his words with a dismissive hand, and had soon ensconced
the canine on a make-shift bed with an enormous and meaty soup bone at his
disposal.
With Ben in the role of work crew foreman, Neil, Helena, and assorted relatives
worked quickly to bag the debris, and clean up as best they could. Their feet,
sloshing through the muddied pools of water were soon chilled, despite the
currents of heat rising through the still-damp air. Helena shivered in her thin
long-sleeved t-shirt and light windbreaker. Glancing over and observing her
goose-bumped discomfort, Neil removed his own fleece jacket, and placed it about
Helena’s shoulders, pulling her hands through the sleeves as if she were a small
child. Zipped to her chin, the fuzzy jacket hung halfway to her knees. With a
quick hug, Neil returned to manhandle a particularly overfilled bag, hoisting
its weighty contents to his shoulder, and then onto the bed of his truck. Helena
glanced after him longingly, her heart tight with emotion, and her mind buzzing
painfully. Under the velvet cover of night she had opened her legs, and her
heart, to Neil Streep and in so doing, had made herself vulnerable to the
mysteries she had yet to uncover. No matter how deeply the core of her still
throbbed at the memory of their coupling, the images of rolled up bills and
mysterious packages changing hands crept back into her daylight consciousness.
Her thoughts tumbled, torn between her desire to bask in the afterglow of last
night’s encounter, and her driving compulsion to know the truth. Glancing over
at the tightly muscled figure of Neil Streep, and seeing him giving so openly of
his time and energy, her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. When he
turned and smiled a slow, warm smile, all invasive, worrying thoughts of piracy
and criminal activity were banished to a dark corner of Helena’s mind. She
smiled back. The last garbage sack had been lifted or hurled onto the flatbed of
the old truck and the yard, if still awash in muddy water, was at least free of
garbage and debris. Neil walked slowly toward her, each footstep an embarrassing
slurp, as it entered and exited the mud.
“Romantic, isn’t it,” Neil laughed, pointing ruefully to his soaking wet shoes.
“In the story books, aren’t I supposed to glide noiselessly across to the
heroine before I ravish her?”
“Well, you still have a chance to get the ravishing part right,” Helena grinned,
tilting her head back for a kiss that missed her mouth and landed chastely on
her forehead.
Later,” he whispered, drawing her to him for a moment before releasing her. He
extended a hand to her, and she entwined her fingers with his, feeling the warm
press of his palm against hers. Hand in hand, they made their way over the lawn
to the front steps of the apartment building. Ben had long ago retired to the
narrow porch, where he supervised the clean-up from a threadbare lawn chair, in
the slumbering company of a drooling Morris. He now rose unsteadily to his feet,
a bright smile touching his lips.
“How do I ever, ever thank you for all you’ve done,” he said in a shaky voice,
his eyes wet with emotion.
“No need Ben, no need at all,” said Neil gently, clasping the landlord’s papery
hand in his free one. “Friends help each other out; that’s the way it’s meant to
be.”
They chatted quietly for a few minutes before Neil’s eyes assumed a worried
expression. Helena gave him a sidelong glance of concern.
“Well, Ben, I guess it’s time for me to head back to the bay and check on
Odyssey, see if she’s still there, even,” his words trailed off in with a
humorless chuckle.
“And Helena,” he turned to her with a questioning look. “If you’d join me, I’d
really appreciate the company.”
Helena’s eyes stole a glance in Ben’s direction. He was grinning, as if to
himself, in a manner that suggested an affirmative response.
“Of course,” she said softly, after a split-second’s thought. “I’ll just have to
gather together a few things before I go.”
Helena realized with a sudden flush that her comment implied an overnight stay
and was suddenly overcome with modesty in the face of her the elderly man. She
stammered out something about the distance to the boat and the possibly
impassable nature of the roads before realizing that both Neil and Ben were
staring at her strangely. As she padded up the linoleum-covered stairway in her
socks, she heard an unaccustomed giggle from the elderly landlord. The last she
heard as she jiggled the key in her lock was, “Funny chile.” She decided that
they might not be talking about her after all.
With a few hastily snatched items in her trusty backpack, Helena emerged from
the musty interior of the apartment block and inhaled deeply of the rain-washed
air.
“Morris is going to stay here with Ben for a couple of days, just until I know
the boat’s safe for a dog who’s lacking a little in the common sense
department,” said Neil with a forlorn look at his canine. Morris countered with
look of great pathos, thumping his stubby tail and rolling his eyes upward. Both
Neil and Helena bent to stroke his massive head. Morris quickly returned his
attention to gnawing the soup bone, and they slipped away quietly, whispering
promises of a speedy return.
The arm Helena tucked into Neil’s felt snug and warm and she smiled up at him as
he opened the door of the truck for her. She yawned as she nestled into the
sun-warmed interior of the vehicle, and realized that she must look as sleep
deprived as she felt. Neil reached a hand out to her and pulled her gently to
him. Helena drowsily rested her ear against his shoulder, snuggling into his
warmth before he patted his thigh and indicated that she rest her head on his
lap. She did so with a sigh of contentment, relishing the muscular curve of his
leg under its weathered denim cover. Gently stroking the line of her jaw, Neil
drove in silence, negotiating the contours of the road with his free hand.
“Argh! I forgot about food,” he suddenly exclaimed, executing a sharp left turn
and coming to an abrupt halt in front of the grocery store. He reached down and
gently ran a finger down the slope of Helena’s breast.
“Of course, the food could always wait,” he whispered, cocking his head
inquiringly, as he reached down to plant a kiss on Helena’s forehead. Helena
grinned sleepily as she pushed herself up to a seated position and unfastened
her seatbelt.
“Nourishment will only give us more energy for other things,” she said
teasingly, returning his flirtatious gesture with an exaggerated wink.
As they entered the store, Helena felt Neil’s hand move protectively around her
waist, and noted with a flicker of satisfaction that the young male clerk
manning the counter was eyeing her with considerable attention. Moving through
the aisles, selecting basic pantry items, and the makings of a few simple meals,
Helena was aware of the young man’s continued open scrutiny. Neil was conscious
of the young man’s attention as well. Grasping her more tightly about the waist,
he pulled her against his body so she could feel the length of him pressed
against her thigh.
“I hope I still have a bit of an edge over the teenaged competition,” he
whispered into her ear as he nuzzled the side of her face.
“Ahead by mere inches, I’m afraid,” she teased back, pinching his cheek and
pulling away with the cart full of groceries. The clerk looked down briefly as
she walked toward him, his stringy blond dreadlocks falling forward over his
peach-fuzzed cheeks. Shy, thought Helena to herself, feeling unaccustomedly full
of feminine mystique.
As she unloaded the groceries onto the counter, she began to feel somewhat
embarrassed by the not-so-subtle glances in her direction. Finally, the young
man spoke.
“I’m sorry for staring, m'am, but would your name by any chance be Helena
Travis?” Not that it’s really any of my business.” He finished off lamely.
Helena felt a jolt in her chest and was, for a moment, incapable of speech.
Neil, fortunately, was not.
“Who’s asking?” he inquired gruffly.
The young clerk looked suddenly timid as he slowly slid a photo across the
counter top. Leaning over for a better look, Helena gasped. The picture was a
glossy head shot: a copy of her yearly school photo from Seattle. Her name had
been block-printed across the white band on the bottom in a familiar square
hand.
“This dude came in, like, maybe an hour ago, flashing this picture and asking if
I’d seen you around. I said I wasn’t sure if I had. He told me to call him if
things changed.”
Helena flipped the photo over. On the back was written the name Mike O’Reilly
and a local number. The clerk was still moving his lips but his words were only
a faint buzz in her ears. Neil caught her in his arms as she felt her knees turn
to water and the room start to spin. She was vaguely aware of Neil’s
half-carrying her out to the truck and buckling the seatbelt around her hips.
Leaning her head back against the seat, she tried to slow her breathing and the
painful thumping in her chest. Neil bent over her with a furrowed brow and
pulled her to him.
“This is about that guy, isn’t it, Helena: the reason you left Seattle.”
She nodded a slow affirmative, her eyes cast down on her lap.
“Then let’s get out of here,” Neil said, reaching over, and gently tipping
Helena’s chin so he could look her in the eyes.
“But I can’t, Neil. I still have my responsibilities at the school to take care
of.” Her eyes were downcast.
“Honey, the school will need a lot of work to be safe for the kids to return and
I doubt if they’ll even bother re-opening with only a week to go before summer
season. It could take that long just to repair the roof. We‘ll keep checking to
see if anything changes and if classes suddenly resume, then I can run you back
if needed. If you want, you can even stay on the boat after school‘s out, for
the summer, or as long as you like. I’ll look out for you. I won’t let him get
to you, Helena.”
These last words were uttered with grim finality. Helena grasped Neil’s hand and
squeezed it gratefully. They drove the remainder of the way to the bay in
silence, each consumed by the weight of their own thoughts. Helena’s mind was
fraught with indecision. Surely she could justify running into the somewhat
mysterious Neil’s arms as a means of eluding the definitely less savory Karl.
Still, she was putting all of her trust in someone who might well prove to have
a less than sterling history. Helena shook her head as if to clear it of
confusion, hoping for clarity and the wisdom to choose correctly. Glancing over
at Neil, she saw his face clouded by worry, his eyes burdened under a furrowed
brow. Like jumping in without first testing the water, she told herself, before
scooting across the seat and throwing her arms around Neil’s neck.
“Whoa, trying to park,” he laughed, moving the gearshift and turning off the
ignition. He returned her embrace warmly and then terminated it abruptly.
“Let’s get moving,” he muttered in a low voice. Helena grabbed her backpack from
the floor, slung it to her shoulder, and quickly followed Neil out of the car
and down to the water’s edge. She was surprised to see him bypass the weathered
rowboat bobbing by the dock and stride toward a young man about to lower himself
into an inflatable dinghy. For a moment, their heads dipped together as they
conversed in low voices, and then Neil pointed in the direction of the Odyssey.
Adjusting his ball cap, the young man nodded cheerfully and waved Helena
forward. With a questioning look in Neil’s direction, Helena lowered herself
onto the plastic deck of the small craft and seated herself on one of the
pontoons. The engine roared to life and the boat leapt forward on the water,
bouncing lightly on the waves as it hummed along. As Helena caught his eye, Neil
inclined his head, indicating the retreating shoreline. Slightly up the road
from where they had parked their car was another vehicle. Three men stood
tightly clustered together beside it. One of them appeared to have a pair of
binoculars trained in their direction. Neil leaned in close. “They were asking
questions,” he said in a tight voice, by way of explaining their hasty
departure. Helena only nodded.
The craft slowed with a whine, and the dinghy bumped gently against the hull of
the Odyssey. She appeared to be intact, bobbing complacently on the foam-tipped
wavelets. Her white coat shone clean in the afternoon light, and the varnished
trim gleamed as glossily as ever. Neither Helena nor Neil paid much heed to the
boat’s miraculous salvation, but instead, clamored aboard as quickly as they
could. Neil pulled up the metal ladder and secured it, and then dropped below to
start the engine.
“Where are we going?” asked Helena in a quiet voice, as it became evident Neil
was preparing for departure.
“Anywhere but here,” he said simply, brushing past her and moving with quick
steps toward the bow of the boat. Soon the clang of metal against metal rang
out, and the tight muscles of Neil’s back strained as he began pulling up the
anchor. This task accomplished, he ran lightly back along the deck and swung
himself down into the cockpit. Grasping the helm, he began steering the Odyssey
out of Coral Bay. Helena wasn’t certain when they switched from engine power to
sail but abandoned her reverie when she heard the mainsheet snapping crisply
with the wind. Leaning against the lifelines, she gazed about her with delight.
The islands they passed were covered with luxuriant verdant growth, touched by
narrow beaches and rocky outcroppings. As daylight began to fade, the water
changed from indigo to inky black. Suffused with pinks and crimson, the sky was
consumed by a brilliant sunset. Helena snuggled against Neil’s shoulder,
relishing the warmth of his thigh against hers, and the sensuous shift of his
hand as he manned the tiller. Just as the stars began to fill the sky with
twinkling points of light, Helena discerned the vague outline of a low island
rising out of the dark.
“Jost Van Dyke is the name of the island,” said Neil, gesticulating toward the
outline. Helena squinted in the dim light, trying to perceive details beyond the
shadowy form rising out of the waves beyond.
“It’s fairly secluded and pretty much frequented only by private yachts. There’s
a notorious bar there by the name of Foxy’s that has all kinds of goings on:
wild parties and the like, but mostly around New Year’s, times like that. We
won’t meet anyone here but other boaters, and by nature we’re kind of a clan
unto ourselves. We watch out for each other. I’m pretty sure that no one will
talk to Karl without talking to us first.”
The sails were lowered and fastened and Neil again went below deck to switch off
the engine. Eyes on the depth gauge, Helena marveled at his ability to navigate
the increasingly shallow waves in the dark. Within minutes, they had dropped
anchor in a mere ten feet of water. The Odyssey rose and fell contentedly on the
waves as Helena cautiously descended the stairs, still leery of the abrupt drop
from the cockpit to the main cabin. As she set foot on the gleaming teak floor
below, she was surprised to see that Neil was nowhere to be seen. Then, she
heard whispered a sensual promise, barely audible over the gentle wash of the
waves. A chill went up the small of her back, causing her skin to prickle with
stirring desire. She made her way on tiptoe to the entrance of the head, and to
the v-berth beyond. The door to the sleeping quarters was half-closed, and she
pushed it open with a tentative gesture. Neil lay on the tousled spread, propped
up on one elbow. As Helena’s face appeared in the passageway, he reached for her
with a smile.
“Come here,” he whispered, drawing her toward him as she crawled into the
opening. As the curve of her ear brushed his lips, he murmured a desire both
blunt and arousing, and she felt a sudden lust quicken her blood. The tiny brass
lamps illuminated the darkness with a soft, almost candle-lit glow, and she
reveled in the ethereal light. Softened by the warm bath of lamp-light, Neil’s
face looked relaxed, and almost child-like in its innocence. Gently, Helena
traced the contour of his jaw, feeling the prickle of a two day growth of
stubble against her thumb. Then, she leaned over, and brushed her lips against
his, savoring the salt-tang taste of his mouth. Fumbling in the confined space,
he drew Helena’s t-shirt over her head and sought the clasp of her flimsy bra.
Her breasts released to his touch, he drew her hard nipples into his mouth as he
cupped and squeezed her compact bottom. Then, his hands were on the waist of her
shorts, unfastening, and pushing aside both outer and undergarments. Naked, she
straddled his hips, tilting her torso back as far as the low bulkhead would
allow. Guiding his thick penis between her squatting thighs, she swallowed him,
inch by inch inside the warmth of her body. She rode him wantonly, damp hair
whipping his face as she bent over him to savor the wandering touch of his
hands. He grasped her shoulders, reining her in against his chest, and rolled
her over so that he was on top, thrusting against her with powerful strokes.
Then, in a confused flurry of movement, he was holding her to him, moving out
and down from the narrow berth into the main cabin with her tanned legs wrapped
tightly around his waist. They bumped against the ladder to the cockpit, and
Helena reached for the top rung, sliding up and off his manhood, and scrambling
naked up into the warm night air. Neil grasped her about the waist as he caught
up to her and smacked her bottom playfully. Taking hold of her hand, he guided
her along the side of the boat to the bow, where a wide board, the bow sprit,
connected to the jib sail. Placing his hands firmly on the metal guardrail at
the bow of the boat, he seated himself on the sprit, straddling the wood with a
leg swinging free on either side. The waves lapped a few feet below his dangling
toes. Helena followed suit, using the guardrail to steady herself as she swung
her body out over the bowsprit. Then, with a neatly executed move, she straddled
Neil’s lap, taking the length of his cock inside her as she lowered herself
completely. Her legs wrapped around his waist, Helena grasped the guardrail for
support and began moving her hips against Neil, thrusting her pelvis against
his. The boat rocked gently beneath them as they moved together, faster and
faster under the starlit sky. Nearby lights on neighboring boats twinkled
dreamily as Helena, suffused with a sudden heat, arched her back with a cry and
gave a final thrust. With a guttural moan, Neil pulled her tight to him. His
mouth against her ear, he murmured her name over and over as they slowly rocked
together, each reluctant to sever the embrace.
Neil’s hands stroked her hair and ran lightly down the curve of her back,
seeming to savor the ripples of gooseflesh his touch drew. Then, his hand was
tracing her jaw, tilting her chin so that her eyes met his in the moonlight. For
a moment, he didn’t speak at all, but simply gazed at her. Suddenly shy, Helena
fought the urge to lower her eyes from his scrutiny. Then, he broke the silence
with a sudden, awkward swallow and a few halting words.
“Helena. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that, even given the dim light, he was
flushing deeply. Helena didn’t mind. Her own voice had caught in her throat, and
for a moment she could give no response other than the glisten of tears in her
widened eyes. Chapter 11
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