From the Past When in the Navy one brown eye one blue each Chapter 5 pt.2

From the Past When in the Navy one brown eye one blue each Chapter 5 pt.2

Eventually, she graduated to an Atlantic Crossing, as part of a crew on an old-fashioned full masted sailing ship, and then back, with a newly purchased yacht from Miami and a crew of two.

Then she spent two summers sailing her little toy around Europe, and once to Africa, before deciding on her big adventure, and then spending several months arranging charity sponsorship, berths at docks along her journey, and supplies ready to be picked up and outfitting her boat ready for the voyage. All the immense annoyance of her husband, who ignored the whole thing and chose not to be involved at all.

And then, they had lunch, went to the gym, took a stroll around the decks, after which Fiona insisted on getting a tour of the engine room, much to the Scottish lead engineer's very visible pure anger. Brett never did figure out what his issue was; was it she was British? A member of their nobility? Or, he suspected, was it just her gender in general? No one was chummy enough with the lead engineer to dare to ask.

Fiona got her tour though since all the other engineer's mates were keen to show her around and share as much of her physical proximity as was possible, something quite easy in the narrow confines of the engine room. Despite the almost audible eye-rolling of the chief engineer, and lots of sighs of annoyance, she still managed to charm the rest of the group, who were falling over themselves to be the one to explain the next valve or switch to her.

It was only after about ten minutes of her nodding thoughtfully, asking questions, and smiling a lot that Brett caught on to what she was doing -- she was being the Royal Who Attends, as she later described it.

She was, in effect, opening a village fete -- something else she had to explain to Brett -, or taking a tour of a new factory. She was doing her best to pay attention so the regular members would be pleased with her interest. What the British Royal Family does best.

It was all Brett could do not to smile broadly, as he leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching her performance. Every now and then, she would glance in his direction, and nod along to whatever was being explained to her, just staring at him, daring him to laugh.

Eventually, the tour was done, and Fiona air kissed everyone, shook hands, wished them well, and walked with Brett back to her cabin, Brett doing his best to hold in the shaking with laughter he felt.

Upon the door shutting, he left it all to go, one rolling belly laugh after another and after a moment, so did Fiona.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, after a moment. "I know I shouldn't laugh at my shipmates, but the way you were glad managing them. It was, well, comical."

"Glad handling?" asked Fiona, wiping a tear from her face and sitting down on her bed. "That's actually a new way of describing what we do. I don't think I've heard that before."

"Yeah, it's what the politicians do back home. Glad handling people. Making them glad you have overseen them, so to speak," he answered, sitting down at the small stool by the desk.

"Well, I'm sure they enjoyed being 'glad handled' by me," said Fiona, making quotation marks around the words 'Glad Handled'. "It sounds positively naughty, the way you put it. Would you like me to 'glad handle' you, big boy?" She dabbed her eyebrows up and down, in a suggestive way.

"Oh, you can manage me any way you want," replied Brett, without thinking.

"Well," replied Fiona, pursing her lips slowly at him, "now there's an opening."

Brett was tempted to make another ribald comment about her openings but refrained. Not that it mattered, because Fiona jumped off the bed, grabbed his head, kissed him hard, pulled him upright, and dragged him to the bed.

"Let's see how glad you are at my handling," she murmured, feeling his cock through his regulation uniform pants. "Oh look. He is glad. Glad, by the feeling of him."

And that is how they spent the rest of the afternoon. Brett was, in fact, ready for sleep that evening, quite worn out by Fiona's extreme appetite. It felt very much she had recovered from her ordeal and was out to make up for a lost time, at least when it came to physical exertion.

Around nine o'clock, after failing to get himself up for the fifth time, Brett went to the galley to see what he could scare up for food, and got a hard stare from Pierre, but managed to scrounge some chicken sandwiches, a couple of cokes, and a bag of chips. Or 'crisps', as Fiona put it.

They snacked together at the little table, making jokes at each other's expense, moving quickly into 'your mother' jokes, where Brett found that Fiona had quite a reserve of these kinds of jokes. Eventually, he quizzed her on it, and she shrugged, her mouth full of chips, and eventually explained that the boarding school she had been sent to have their own quirks, and a good sense of humor and memory for jokes was essential.

When they had finished, Brett stood to go. Fiona looked at him quizzically, and he smiled, ruefully, at her, 'I honestly do not think I have another one in me. You have exhausted the supply for now. I need rest, my lady."

She smiled back at him, toothily, and said, "It's okay, I had just hoped..." and patted the bed where she had moved to. "Stay?" she asked, hopefully.

"I. don't know that's a promising idea," he hesitated, thinking about if anyone came looking for him. Not being found in his bunk would not be a promising idea.

"Please?" she implored, patting the bed again. "I would really like to wake up next to you. Come on, you know you want to. There might be a nighttime emergency, and don't you want to be handy if there is?"

He could quite imagine what kind of 'nighttime emergency' she was thinking of if the afternoon's activities were anything to be judged.

He bit his lip. She was attractive. And wanted him. And it is not like he had had any other offers in the past few months.

"Pleeeaaassseee..." She could see he was wavering.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes, and acting like he was doing her a massive favor. "But I'd better be made a knight of the round table when we dock," he muttered, as he shrugged out of his shirt and pants.

Waking up in the morning was a revelation for Brett. While he had done it before, it had mostly been after one-night stands. He had had one long-term relationship, with an old friend from school, who had lasted a couple of months, but she had made it clear that she was not happy with him shipping out as a merchant marine crew member, and that had been that.

Sleeping next to a sleeping woman, particularly in the narrow cabin beds the ship had, meant proximity.

It meant her hand and face on his chest, breathing slowly. He glanced down, craning his head so he could see without moving or disturbing Fiona, and saw the blanket was dislodged. She was bathed in the light from the porthole, revealing her unblemished and soft skin. She looked divine, natural, and innocent, even though he had first-hand knowledge that she was not.

He could get used to this. Which was a dangerous thought.

And then she opened her eyes and caught his as the first thing she saw. And she smiled at him, a pure, open, no bullshit smile. Nothing else behind it, but delight to see him. No pretense, no other thought but pleasure at him being the first thing she saw when she woke up.

And something shifted in Brett. Something moved. Suddenly, looking at her, meeting her eyes, was the most important thing in the world. In a split second, Brett was lost, and he was only dimly aware he was.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours. Eventually, Fiona yawned and stretched.

"What's on the agenda today?" she murmured, and Brett suddenly reared up and smothered her mouth with his, because it was suddenly extremely urgent that he kissed this woman, right there and then.

Fiona was surprised, but went with it, breaking apart after a few moments, and panting -- not entirely from lack of breath, either.

"Well, someone is keen! And a good morning to you, too!" she grinned at him, eyes shining.

"I'm sorry... I just..." replied Brett, suddenly bashful, aware he had overstepped the mark.

"Oh no, don't stop now!" Fiona demanded. "This is a terrific way to wake up. More, please!"

And he kissed her again, and she kissed him back and something passed between them that both were aware of, and neither could articulate.

The rest of the morning was spent, predictably, in bed.

The next few days saw Fiona charming the crew and finding things to do to liven the ship up.

To be continued