“You’re kidding me.”
The Captain stared down at his wife. Two intersecting circles formed a figure 8 around them as sleet and rain dripped off of their anoraks. Hard to say, looking at her, whether most of the wet on her face was from the storm, or the tears that were coursing slowly down her cheeks.
He shook his head, totally at a loss. What the fuck had she been thinking?
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
The words burst from his mouth almost as fast as they came into his head. His hands were on her shoulders, gripping her through the heavy coat.
The jury was still out whether He would shake the snot out of her, or hug her close.
“i wasn’t thinking,” she began, only to be interrupted by a harsh bark of laughter.
“Well, ain’t that the truth?”
She looked up at him, hurt beyond measure. First, he’d called her an idiot. Now he was calling her stupid. How could she explain to him, thick-headed control freak that he was, how excruciating it was to sit at home knowing he was right there at port a few miles away?
To be so near, and yet so far was the poetic device of the ages. Walt Whitman had used it, and Ella Fitzgerald had sung of it. But here and now, she had been living it. Her heart throbbed with longing, her fears of the storm driven away by the fear of missing even one more night away from Him.
Why couldn’t He understand how she ached for him?
And yet, according to so many of those blogs she read, submissives all had the same issues, a visceral craving for the one who Mastered them. A craving that was never fully sated, never fully appeased, never fully gone.
It was that craving, that drove her from the house to the docks. That had flogged her down the long walkway to where his ship tossed at anchor in the frothing Lake. And those same craven needs that had drawn her, step after shaking step, up the long gangplank to be with him.
And he called her an idiot, the idiot!
His eyes bored into hers, and she felt the first spark of anger tingle inside of her.
“You were gone long this time. I missed you. And that’s not all.”
Again she was interrupted. He was really starting to annoy the shit out of her!
“You couldn’t wait until fucking morning? When the storm will have passed over and the crew returns and things are calmer? You had to climb a fucking ice-sheet of a gangplank to get up here and almost fall into the fucking lake? Do you understand that the Lake is a fucking bitch when this weather hits, and her fucking Norther will suck you down into the water, and freeze you to death in minutes? And that’s if she doesn’t decide to mash you to death by slapping the boat against the pier.”
As if to add a lesson to his words, the ship lurched and she tumbled against him. Oh, gods he smelled so good! He, naturally, balanced and rolled with the pitch of the ship. Beads of moisture rolled from their feet, across the decking.
Grabbing a fistful of her chestnut mane, he growled a terse “c’mon” and headed below decks to his quarters.
She was turned on by his rough handling of her person, yet there was a huge element of nerves. She’d been on the ship before, of course, but never when there were no other crewmen aboard. And never when He’d consider that she’d done something as foolhardy as coming aboard during a storm.
The sound of the wind howling through the rigging carried through the entire ship. The vibrations caused all manner of groans and moans through walls and floors. The waves pounded against the port side of the ship. On the fore, aft, and starboard sides, thick hawsers attached to the pier. The large bollards held the hawsers. The triangle arrangement of the hawser lines and bollards kept the ship steady, yet the action of wind and waves tugged and heaved at the lines. It was a bit like being on a ride at the amusement park, being tugged a few inches in this direction, then a moment later, a few in the opposite. She staggered as the prow dipped a bit as she stepped, making her pitch forward, again.
The tug of his hand, wrapped tightly in her hair, drew fresh tears and a quick scramble of feet to keep up with him.
“You don’t have any idea how angry I am with you, do you?” His hand shook her head as they came to stand in front of his quarters. Most of the ship was about transport, but as captain, his berth was larger than most. He opened the door and shoved her inside his ‘Ready Room’. Beyond that small area was another door. He pressed her against the wall as he keyed in his personal code. In a second the door opened, and he pulled her off the wall and into the room.
It was warm in here, and she sighed deeply with the pleasure that gave her.
“Take off your fucking coat, hang it up, and bend over the bed.”
He stared at her, his mind made up. She was going to get the whooping of a lifetime. And then he was going to fuck the hell out of her.
She had to smile a little bit at the look on his face as she opened her coat and let it fall to the floor. There she stood, naked but for her boots.
“Dear God,” he thought, utterly shocked.
She was stupider than he thought.