“Jerry,
Winter Harbour,
Thursday night,
Be there!
– Brandy”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

I must have read that note thirty times before the message sank into my head. Brandy had left without so much as a “Good-bye”. Even just a hint of why she’d sailed out of the cove so early in the morning would have made me feel better.

Winter Harbour. Shit, how I hated that place. With the draft of my 32-foot sloop, the only time of day that I could safely enter or leave that harbour was at high tide, just as it turned. At any other time, the solid basalt reef that protected the cove beyond, would rip the keel off before I knew it.

Despite my loathing of that sheltered moorage, I decided that I probably would take the chance and go. What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe get my heart broken again? As that state was already becoming an ongoing lifestyle anyway, one more round wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Besides, there was just something about Brandy Bendall that felt so damned compelling. Her warmth, and something I couldn’t label, combined to draw me to her like a moth to flame. Sure, I could forget her, if I had to. I’d been left behind so many times before by other women that it was starting to feel like that was my destiny. It was just that those few hours of feeling connected to another human being, of actually mattering to someone, were as addictive as crack cocaine.

So here I was, standing on the deck, trying to get my head to function again. This girl must have had me under some sort of a spell. I had no idea if the tide was in or out, or even which way it was going. Trying to sail out of here at low tide would be fatal, and I knew it. But the thoughts of being with Brandy again had taken over my sense of reason. I was all set to pull up anchor and leave right then, and to hell with the rocks, the currents, and the dangers!

Those aren’t the things someone that wants to see another sunrise should be thinking. The sea is a fickle mistress. Show her the respect she deserves, and she’ll cradle you with warmth and protection; piss her off, and she’ll crush you so fucking fast . . . .

It took me almost fifteen minutes to ascertain that the tide was going out, and that I was too late to safely leave. I was stuck here until sometime in the late evening, and even then I’d be sailing at night. Not a good idea, especially in these waters. I resigned myself to being held captive until the following morning. That would still give me two days to make Winter Harbour. Plenty of time, I realized, even if I had to make the trip using only the auxiliary.

Well, even though I’ve been sailing these waters for many years, I got impatient by the time the day was winding down. Not “stupid crazy” impatient, but definitely antsy. As soon as the tide was high enough, I fired up the auxiliary and headed out into the channel. There was maybe a couple of hours of daylight left. Not quite enough time to make it to Queen’s Cove, but I’d get close. I’d be able to set sail early the next morning, and even if the winds died, I’d still be able to make landfall near Winter Harbour by Thursday afternoon. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for high tide for the leg into the harbour itself. That was assuming that a certain 28-foot sloop was already moored there.

The trip to Winter harbour was relatively uneventful. Winds were from the south-west at about twenty knots. Just enough to set the spinnaker sail and let Mother Nature do the hard part. Put some miles behind me. I probably could have made Winter that night, if it had been necessary. But I learned a long time ago that rushing was the fastest way to get a person in trouble. Knowing how strong that calling to be with Brandy again was, I was already in enough trouble. No sense taking unnecessary chances now.

I slept in the following morning. Maybe it was the gentle roll of the boat as the waves slowly rocked me. Maybe it was that delicious feeling of laziness that a lack of a schedule induces. Maybe it was not having a care in the world.

Maybe it was the dreams of Brandy that kept me in bed. Remembering making love to her on the deck got my cock all excited. Softly stroking myself while those memories drifted around in my head was pure pleasure. The thought of holding her in my arms, feeling the softness of her skin against mine, the swell of her breasts under my hands, tasting the sweetness of her juices as I lay harboured between her silky thighs, having her cunt demand my manhood, sharing our climaxes together. Those were some things that I cold really get used to.

But laying at anchor wasn’t going to make those dreams come true. There were almost forty miles between me and that harbour. With a decent wind, I’d make the trip in three or four hours. After that, it was a matter of waiting; waiting for the tide, waiting for the sounder to map the moorages. And waiting for a certain 28-foot sloop to arrive. My whole day was going to be a case of “hurry up and wait”.

A leisurely breakfast filled in some of the time. Cleaning out the cabin, checking and tuning the rigging consumed some more of it. I hoisted the sails just as the Klayquot ferry rounded the point on its way north. That would make it about noon. Five hours from now and the tide would almost be high enough to scoot straight into the harbour itself, and it would be light enough to find a decent spot to drop anchor. It was that last wait, the one until Brandy was back in my arms, that would fray my nerves like an old piece of manilla line.

They say that the best plans of mice and men often go astray. In my case, it was any plans. I was close to the half-way point when the wind died. Instantly. I’d been making good time, and it was a gorgeous day. Between the sun and the gurgling of the wake behind me, it was almost hypnotic. I guess I must have dozed off for a bit, because it was the snap of the mainsail luffing that brought me back to reality. There wasn’t a breath of air anywhere, and the sea was like glass all around me. In fact, the only thing moving was the gentle roll of waves that had started thousands of miles away in the middle of the Pacific as they prepared themselves to break on the Island’s west coast. Unless I fired up the auxiliary, about the only place I was going was onto the beach, as those Pacific travellers pushed me in with the tide.

It took a while to convince the little Perkins diesel that it was time to go back to work. Once underway again, I looked at the chronometer in the cabin, only to find that it was almost 4:00 PM. Shit! I still had three hours to go, and that would mean I’d miss the high tide I needed. Not a major set-back, but a damned nuisance. I’d have to anchor outside the harbour, then wait for the morning tide.

The little auxiliary ran best at three-quarter throttle, and that’s where I set it. At that speed, I was making a whole six knots, about half what I’d make under sail. The inconvenience was tolerable; the racket from the little engine wasn’t. But it did get me to the harbour entrance just before last light.

This was a deep section of water, and it took me four passes to get the Danforth anchor to grab anything. By the time it did, I had almost four hundred feet of anchor line run out. One good gust in the night and it might pull free. There was nothing for it but to plan on an all-night vigil. Once everything was as secured as I could get it, I sat back on the deck, and leaned against the aft storage locker that usually served as a seat. The same one Brandy had claimed when she first came aboard.

I must have either dozed off or daydreamed. Either way, I never heard the bump of the skiff as it touched my hull.

“Hey there, stranger” a familiar voice called me. “You hiding out here, or you coming in to keep me company?” I almost jumped out of my shorts!

“Brandy!” I screamed. Rolling over to gaze past the stern flag mast, my eyes were met with the prettiest sight this old sailor had seen in a long time.

“Permission to come aboard,, Captain” she requested.

“Permission granted, sailor. Now get your pretty little ass up here, and give me one of those welcoming kisses of yours! And that’s an order!” I growled to her, the joy at her just being there betraying my lack of anger and authority.

“Aye, sir!” she growled back, with just as much authority in her voice as I didn’t have. “Give me a hand here, sailor. An old broad like me shouldn’t have to fight this damned transom. How come you haven’t got a swim grid back here for midnight guests to come aboard? Too cheap?” she teased.

She threw me the painter to tie the skiff off, then waited for my arm to help her aboard. As I pulled her up, I kept the momentum going until she was right where I could wrap my arms around her. I imprisoned her soft feminine charms tightly to me. She responded by kissing me passionately, her tongue demanding open passage to the security of the harbour that was my mouth. I felt her exploring every part of me, inspecting all the different textures she’d encountered before. She made accommodation for my own probing tongue. Don’t ask me how long we held that kiss. It could have been hours. Maybe even days. No matter how long, it still wasn’t long enough.

“I thought I said Thursday night” Brandy whispered as we finally unlocked our lips. “What’s the matter, big boy? Couldn’t wait that long?”

“Nah. But I was in the neighbourhood, and figured I’d check up on you. Beside, you buggered off without saying fuck-all. What was that all about?” I asked.

“I sailed out on the morning tide, and had a chance to do some research on the way up here. There was no way you were going to wake up, so I left you that note. I see you got it” she explained. “It’s not like I didn’t try to wake you. Hell, I almost broke my toe, kicking your fat ass! When you sleep, you really sleep! I could have scuttled this tub, and you wouldn’t have known a damned thing until you hit the bottom.”

She was right, there. Making love til the wee hours of the morning tends to have that effect on me.

“When’s the next high tide? I haven’t looked at the table lately. This ain’t the greatest place to rely on a hook, is it?” I quizzed the beautiful creature still in my arms. “And where the hell are you anchored, anyway? I scanned the harbour as I came in and couldn’t see your boat anywhere.” The twinkle in her eye made me realize that Brandy had something sneaky up her sleeve. Getting the information out of her would probably take several threats with a marlin spike.

“Far end of the harbour. There’s a big tidal pool back there, and unless you know when and where to get into it, no one’s gonna bother me for days.” she explained. “But if you have to wait for the tide just to get into the harbour basin, you’re never gonna get into that tidal pool. Maybe I should just shanghai you, and we’ll leave this old tub out in the harbour itself? I have to rendezvous with the university’s tender tomorrow afternoon, but after that . . . “ She left her sentence trailing off. It was what she didn’t say that was important.

“You still haven’t told me when high tide is in the morning” I reminded her.

“About 6:30,” she answered, “assuming I can get your sleepy ass on deck by then. Might have to try and keep you in your pants all night to accomplish that.” She stepped back as far as my arms would let her. Looking up and down my entire body, and with that mischievous gleam in her eye, she added, “Nah, that idea sucks. I can’t wait that long!”

“Guess that means shore leave has been cancelled, huh?” I quipped. “Tell ya what. You take the midnight watch, and I’ll do the second trick. One of us should be awake come sunrise.”

“Not if I have my way about it” she returned. “As soon as that sun sinks below the horizon? I’m gonna fuck you senseless, then curl up in these arms of yours and snore my brains out. Shit, that’s all I’ve been thinking about since I left that cove. Must have gone through eight or nine pairs of panties, too. A girl can only stand her unsatisfied pussy being that wet for so long, ya know” she growled in my ear.

I pulled her tight to my chest and kissed her as hard as I dared. She responded with equal vigour, and almost as much strength. Her breasts crushed themselves against me, those turgid nipples that turned me on so much trying desperately to bore right through to my shoulder blades. My cock wasn’t too far off being fully erect. Another thirty seconds would about do it.

“Why wait til sunset?” I wheezed as we finally broke our welcoming kiss. “There’s a perfectly good cabin down below, just waiting to be educated in the ways of wanton lust. Sunsets take too long this time of year, and I can’t be bothered waiting, if I don’t have to.”

“Tempting,” she whispered, “but tonight, I want to swab this deck with our combined juices. I’ve made love in some strange places in my life, but this deck? God, it’s all I’ve thought about since you came into view tonight. This is where I want to be when we make love, Jerry. To remember that this is where we met, where we became friends, where we made love. If you ever sink this tub, I want a piece of its deck as a memento of the other night. Even if I have to dive down six hundred feet to get it, I want it!” She kissed me softly but insistently, then added, “but not as bad as I want you right now. Damn, you’ve got me feeling so horny, I’m gonna soak this pair of panties right through in the next ninety seconds!”

“Now, now! We can’t have that, can we? Not while all those gawky-eyed tourists over there can still see in this evening twilight” I teased her. “Besides, I haven’t eaten all damned day, and my stomach is threatening to knot up more than a Boy Scout convention. Think you can keep your overactive hormones under control until we do something about that?”

With that same mischievous grin, Brandy grabbed my crotch with open fingers. “Fuck the main course! I’m holding out for dessert!” her lust-filled voice declared.

In retaliation, I slid my hand over her Mons, my finger rubbing the outline of her slit. Shit, she wasn’t kidding about soaking her panties! Even the denim fabric between her legs was wet! I couldn’t believe how turned on that got me. We were about one-and-a-half seconds from ripping each other’s clothes off right then and there, gawking tourists notwithstanding.

“I know what I’m having for dessert,” I mumbled softly, “Pussy pie. Two helping’s worth. But I think we should eat first. Gotta keep my strength up. It’s gonna be a busy night, right?” I got a hug. Brandy got her cute little bum lightly smacked.

Standing in front of the galley stove a few minutes later, I felt a pair of arms sneak up behind me and circle my waist. They were immediately followed by a pair of still-hard nipples pushing into my back, and Brandy’s warm, moist breath in my ear. It sent shivers all through me, and whatever I was in the middle of immediately went “on hold”.

It was also a diversion. As I revelled in the sensations Brandy was eliciting in my body, the button on my jeans mysteriously came undone, and the zipper was seconds behind it. I felt her hand slipping into my shorts as she captured my hard cock in those soft fingers of hers. She began to stroke the length of my shaft slowly, while convincing my pants that they would rather be on the floor than on me. I couldn’t argue with her logic.

Turning off the stove, I spun around slowly, bringing Brandy‘s hand that was attached to my cock with me. She never missed a stroke as she continued to slowly fondle me. I reached up to her breasts, squeezing them, my senses basking in their soft pliability. My fingers rubbed back and forth over her erect nipples, completely engrossed with the dichotomy of the difference in textures between their hardness and the supple softness of her orbs. Her deep blue eyes reached out and captured my soul, making me her slave for as long as she wanted. Once she’d garnered that part of me, her lips conquered my own in a deep and delicious kiss that felt intense enough to curl my pubic hair. I opened my lips to her demanding tongue, feeling her claim any salvage rights to what little resolve I had left to resist her. She’d get slim pickings from that claim. I doubt that broke her heart. It sure wasn’t breaking mine.

As we finally broke from our lip lock, I whispered in her ear, “Mmm. You taste so damned good. But supper’s gonna be late, and you know what your Momma always told you; no dessert until you finish your supper.”

“My Momma can get her own damned dessert. Besides, I have all intentions of eating every last drop of my supper” Brandy hissed, then dropped down to her knees, putting the tip of my cock just at her lips. Leaning forward, she kissed my cockhead softly and gently several times. Each kiss was like an electric jolt that emanated down to the base of my shaft and bounced around inside my nut sac. Suddenly I felt her lips slide over my cockhead and down my shaft, her tongue twirling around me before slithering along the bottom of my cock shaft. Within seconds, she was bobbing up and down on my cock, her tonsils tickling and teasing against my cum hole. She had started to suck on me as she let my shaft slide out from her depths, then increased that suction as she reclaimed my manhood. I leaned against the galley counter as those wicked sensations she was imparting dominated every other sense I had.

It wasn’t long before I could feel my balls begin to lift as they prepared to dispense that gooey liquid dessert that Brandy craved. As my cum began its inevitable journey into my cock shaft, it intensified the tingling feeling that Brandy‘s slippery tongue had initiated up and down my shaft.

“Oh God, girl! It’s dessert time!” I hollered, and she immediately swallowed my entire cock into her mouth, past her tonsils, and down her throat. The grip of her esophagus on my cock was out of this world, and the first rope of cum blasted past it as I poured my seed into her belly. My legs tried to fold up with the magnitude of sensations consuming my body, as string after string of the white slime followed the first rope. Brandy held me in her throat the whole time I was cumming, moaning her approval of the creamy dessert she was feasting on. By the time I regained my balance, she was licking my cock clean, making sure she hadn’t missed one drop.

As my spent organ began to soften, Brandy stood up and wrapped her arms around my neck. I leaned in to kiss her cum-smeared lips, but she pulled back just enough that I couldn’t quite reach them.

“Get your own dessert, Sugar. This one’s mine, and I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna share!” she growled lustfully. Then she ran her tongue all around her lips, finding a glob or two, and swallowed it all down, with a couple extra swallows, just to make sure. Satisfied that she’d gotten every drop, she leaned forward and gave me that kiss I so longed for.

Feeling quite relaxed after one of the best blowjobs I’d ever received, I patted Brandy’s derriere lightly and lovingly, then suggested that I return to what I had been doing. Making supper.

“And I’m saving my dessert until after I finish my supper. Momma says I gotta” I snickered to her.

“Does this mean I don’t get seconds?” she whined.

Well, if you’re a good girl, then maybe. We’ll have to see, won’t we?” I teased her.

“What about if I’m a bad girl?? What do I get then?” she giggled softly.

“Hmm, “ I mused, “maybe sent to your bed, with a good spanking first.”

“Really? Uh-oh, I could be in major danger here, couldn’t I? ‘Cuz I’ve been oh-so-naughty today. I even stole some dessert before I finished my supper. I’ll bet I get my ass paddled until it glows in the dark! M-m-m-m-m!” she cooed.

We both giggled. Soon I had food ready, and we sat on the deck to eat, washing it down with a beer or two. Brandy took the dishes below, then returned to sit beside me, curling up against my chest as her arms snaked around my bloated stomach. As she settled in, I luxuriated in the scent of her hair, and the slightly salty taste of her forehead.

There’s just something about the many scents of a woman that I can’t resist. Some call it “the feminine mystique”, while others refer to it as pheromones. Whatever you call it, to me it’s just downright sexy. Another word that comes to mind is “irresistible”. Whatever it is, Brandy had it. Enough of it that my lips sought hers urgently as my hands searched for those soft, smooth orbs with the hard little nipples on them. They seem to draw me like honey draws bees. Those moaning sounds that Brandy made strongly hinted that my attentions were gladly received.

As heavenly as her kisses were, I planted butterfly kisses of my own down her neck, across her shoulder and back to the valley of voluptuousness that was her cleavage. We both worked at removing her sun shirt as those magnificent breasts of hers sprang free, their pebble-hard nubs straining to reach my lips. I took first one, then the other, between my lips, swirling my tongue around each one in turn, then gently pulling them with my teeth. Brandy’s soft moans graduated into full-blown growls of pleasure.

“God yes, Jerry!” she groaned, “you feel so damned good on my tits! Bite me like that much more, and I’ll cream my panties again! Fuck, you’re almost making me cum!” and she pulled me tight to her succulent mammaries.

As much as I loved the texture of Brandy’s breasts, I was more than ready for my dessert. Kissing my way down her slightly rounded belly, I paused long enough to undo the button and zipper of her cut-offs. My nose was immediately assailed by the heady scent of her juices, which made my mouth water with delightful anticipation. She lifted her hips just enough to allow me to remove the wrappings on my dessert tray, and I whipped both her cut-offs and her panties over her ankles in one swift movement. Brandy must have shaved herself that morning, because her bald pussy was as smooth as glass and as soft as silk. God, how I adore a bald pussy! There might be a small speck of her mound that my lips missed, but damned if either one of us could tell you where it’s hidden.

As I slid down the deck to Brandy’s waiting pussy, she spread her thighs in anticipation. Starting about half-way between her knee and her crotch, I softly kissed my way up to that sexy slit that held the finishing touches of my meal, that flavourful dessert that I craved. My tongue slithered up the right lip of her vulva, parting it from its left counterpart as the two yielded a teasing taste of her juices. She inhaled sharply as I lapped her entrance, then slid up to her hardened clit. That nub begged for my lips to conquer its waiting lustful wants. I happily accepted its open invitation, and pulled gently with my lips until my teeth grasped it delicately, then held it as I tickled with my tongue.

“God, yes, Jerry! Suck my clit! Lick me all over! Make me cum!” Brandy screamed with wanton passion. I began alternating between her clit and her pussy hole, inserting my rolled tongue inside her as her juices flowed and covered us both. Then the idea of licking her from clit to asshole and back popped into my mind. I plowed the full length of her gash with my probing tongue, rimming her asshole softly before I slipped into her pucker momentarily.

“Oh God! Jerry! No one’s ever kissed me there before! Christ, that feels so fucking good!” Brandy wailed. I kissed her pucker, then muttered to my one-eyed audience, “I vill be beck” before resuming a deeper exploration of her valley of femininity. By now, Brandy’s pussy was soaked with her juices. I couldn’t pass up the chance to lick every drop that had oozed from her vagina, but as soon as I had lapped it clean, I just had to suck that turgid clit again.

No sooner had I clamped Brandy’s clit between my teeth and begun to tease it than she screamed the immanence of her climax. I devoted all my attentions and energies to that love button, desperate to give her the pleasure she so richly deserved. I must have done something right, for she slammed her thighs against my ears and pinned me to her mound, gasping and struggling for breath, then began quivering and trembling as those waves of orgasmic explosion captured her entire body. The more she trembled, the more I flicked against her clit, and the more I flicked, the more she trembled. Just to make sure she received maximum pleasure, I waited for her to start to relax, then flick her clit again. The result was a renewed series of convulsions as she exploded into orgasm after orgasm. It felt good to be able to pleasure her for as long as her body would allow, but after a couple of continuous minutes, Brandy began to push on my head insistently in an effort to salvage her ravished pussy from total sensual overload.

As I moved to smother her belly with soft and wanting kisses, I became aware that her thighs were heavily coated in her girl-cum. It appeared that I was too. My cheeks, my lips, my chin, and my neck were bathed in that heavenly nectar. Even my chest had benefited from the torrent that she must have produced.

“Jesus, Jerry! I thought you were gonna climax me to death! How the fuck did you do that?” she howled.

For an answer, I just kept moving closer to those lips of hers, pausing to salute both nipples with a gently tug and swirling lick before covering her body with mine. She took my head between her hands and guided me to her waiting lips, then began to giggle softly.

“What?” I questioned her.

“Shit, you should see yourself!” she chuckled. “You sure are a messy eater, mister! You’re covered in my . . . “

The last word was cut off as Brandy gasped. My cockhead had just penetrated her inner lips as it slowly began the journey to the depths of her boiling pussy. It took a while, but I finally felt her pubic bone push up against my own. I was buried as deeply in her loving cunt as I could get. Brandy slammed the soles of her feet on the deck and lifted her hips, pulling me into her even deeper. The only part of me that she hadn’t captured in her vagina was my balls, and I was beginning to worry about their freedom, too. God, I’ve never felt so wanted and needed in my whole life!

I could feel, sense, and somewhat comprehend that Brandy wasn’t interested in just my body. She wanted my heart, and my soul as well. Everything that I was, she wanted, needed, and demanded. In return, she was giving me everything that she was. In that one moment, everything about my life changed, became different, yet peacefully complete, all at once.

I had held myself in the depths of Brandy’s love canal for quite a few seconds as we both revelled in the blissful happiness of our joining. My instincts told me to do one thing. My heart told me to just stay still and enjoy this woman that had become my lover. I split the difference.

Slowly sliding out until only my cockhead remained inside the heat of Brandy’s cunt, I waited a few seconds before returning to her depths. Brandy gasped in frustration as she felt herself being left empty as I withdrew, then moaned loudly in ecstasy as I returned to fill her hungry, love-starved pussy. As I bottomed out deep inside her, she wrapped her legs over my calves and began thrusting her hips in time with mine. Our minds, our hearts, our entire existence was in perfect synchronization, one with the other. When she wanted me to stroke faster, I could feel her want flowing through my body. When she wanted more of those slow, sensual strokes, I could feel that, too. There was only one part of each of us that wasn’t yet connected in this magical dance of lust and love. We cured that problem in seconds.

As our lips touched, then yielded to the demands of our interweaving tongues, I felt complete and fulfilled. A magical something left its message in my brain that Brandy was in exactly the same head space I was. I began to increase the tempo of my slowly pistoning cock, and she rocked her hips to match that speed. Soon I was ramming in and out of her cunt as fast as I dared. Still, Brandy met me stroke for stroke, and thrust for thrust. She pulled herself from my thirsty lips and buried her head against the base of my neck, grunting to the rhythm of our lustful dance of love.

“Jerry,“ she wheezed, “I need your cum inside me! Fill me up, give me your seed! Make me cum with you! God, Jerry, I’m so close!”

I could feel the walls of her vagina start to flutter against my cock, and my balls lifted in reply to that sensation. Then that pressurized explosion of my cum burst forth, filling Brandy’s womb with life-creating sperm and semen. As the pressure of my first rope relented, her cunt contracted and gripped my cock in a desperate attempt to pull more of my seed into her hungry depths. By the time my second spurt erupted, Brandy had started screaming, her orgasm holding her in its tight grip. I remember another three ejaculations before the rapture over took me completely, and I almost passed out. I swear that only the sounds of Brandy’s wails of pleasure kept me conscious.

After that, it was a slow decent back to the plains of normalcy for both of us. I lay atop my lover, unable to convince my muscles to respond to the commands of my foggy brain. Even if I had wanted to move, I doubt it would have been possible. Not with Brandy holding me that tightly. I had tried to roll onto my side in an effort to keep my full weight from crushing her. She had successfully prevented that, preferring that we remain joined in this position for as long as possible. As my now-softening cock popped back out of her vagina, I could feel our combined love juices seeping from her, smearing over my balls, and dripping on the deck boards below us. As promised, she had swabbed the decks with our juices.

“Jerry? That was the most incredible . . .” Her words were muffled by the sobs that accompanied her tears. I tried to kiss them away, but there were just too many of them for one man.

“Brandy Bendall, you are the most amazing woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing” I whispered into her ear. “And consider this deck well-swabbed. Mind you, I think it might need to be touched up in the morning’s light.”

“”Agreed, Captain” she said through her sniffles, then added softly, “Captain? Permission to . . . fall in love with you? Sir?”

It took me a few moments to get my heart back out of my throat before I replied.

“Permission . . . granted.”

We slept on deck that night. The next morning, I finally got into the harbour and anchored as close to the lagoon where Brandy’s sloop lay at anchor as I could. She had found the ideal location in that lagoon. Despite almost a dozen-and-a-half other boats sheltered in the harbour, we had the world to ourselves. For three glorious days, Brandy was the center of my Universe, and I was the center of hers. Or so she professed.

And after three days? Well, Brandy returned to her world of academia. She’s a tenured biology professor at Malaspina University. They sponsor her research, provide her with the boat that made our time together possible, and command her attention whenever the needed funding grants become available.

We keep in touch still. I have her marine phone number, her cell number, and an unlisted private number in Malaspina. They were taped to one of the locker doors, but I’ve memorized them from all the use I’ve put them through.

And as for me? Yeah, I’m still sitting on the deck of the same 32-foot sloop, still plying the same waters, still spending my time escaping from those people that let you scratch their back just before they disappear.

I still frequent that secret cove, the one that’s only accessible when the tide’s in. I seem to find myself there almost every week.

So does a certain 28-foot sloop.