The Hemingway Maid ('16 revision)

But it wouldn't have mattered, I always tell myself. Not in the least. She listened, she said she understood, but there's no way a person can, not really. There's no frame of reference. You can describe waves thirty feet above the deck, but until they've chased you, hounded you for hours, even days on end the mind just can't wrap around the concept. Wind so loud you can't hear yourself think...wind-driven spray screaming off breaking waves, slamming into you so hard the 'drops' leave deep bruises. Walking on deck is a suicidal risk, and just steering it's better to wear a dive mask and snorkel - so you can see, and breathe. No, really, how do you convey the gut-punching intensity of a storm with mere words? You can't, not really, because mere words aren't up to the task.

She turned to me, and in the moonlight her silvered-lavender form seemed to hover in the blue air all around me, and then I had shuddered as another spectral gust tingled lightly through that same deep recess in the back of my mind.

"Are you cold?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"No, not really."

"What is it?"

I tried to shake the feeling. "Baby, I don't think it'd do any good to talk about my feelings right now. When this is all behind us, well, then we should talk."

"Jim, you can't hold everything in, especially your fears. They'll eat you from the inside out, leave nothing but a bitter shell."

I looked at her floating there in the infinite space, that place despair hollows out for lost souls to wander in, and I knew she was going to die. I was certain of it. "I just had a bad feeling about things. You know, kind of a cold finger tapped me on the shoulder and went 'Boo!'" With that little expletive, I dove over and tickled her mercilessly until she lay gasping, begging for mercy, then I kissed her. Gently at first. Then I kissed her with a passion born of total love for her, for the many things she had endured in her life - and the gift her life had been to Sabrina.

And just as suddenly I felt like crying, and somewhere inside the dam broke. I was consumed by fear for her life, of her coming death, and when I thought about loving her as I now did, and then to suddenly, knowingly face life without her -- well, the feeling overwhelmed me completely. I felt her holding me, stroking the back of my head -- but she didn't say a word. She didn't have to.

Ghosts, I knew, seldom have much to say.

+++++

I could feel the sun on my face -- and I woke with a start. I felt the reassuring presence of Sabrina's mass all around me -- yet not one whisper of the warmth I'd come to know of Elise's breath on my neck, or the echo of her legs against mine. Was she gone already; had the dream left so soon?

I heard no footsteps in the galley, no movement on deck, and suddenly I felt panic welling up -- at the thought of her death once again, of a life without her. I jumped out of the bunk and dressed in a rush, made my way to the cockpit and there she was, talking with Pedro in gentle, reassuring tones -- and like the wind through the palms overhead she washed over me, threatened to carry me away once again, yet I kept to the shadows, didn't want to interrupt the flow of her words, and so I slipped back to the forepeak. A few minutes later I heard her coming below, and I waited in the berth for her. Leaning over, I watched her come to me, looking me in the eye as she approached. Quietly, she slipped out of her clothes, and still, never did she utter a solitary word.

She climbed up on the berth, then she pushed me down roughly as she lifted a leg over my chest. I lay there - face up - and watched in wonder as she sat astride my face and lowered herself down on my mouth. I reached up and held her hips as she kissed my face with her loins, and I drove my tongue into the musky recesses of her womb. The hatch overhead was still open, and she placed her hands there, hanging by her arms over my mouth, driving away the spirits that consumed me during the night -- banishing them with the sheer force of her will. I raked my fingers up her belly, found my way to her breasts as she rediscovered her own secret place, and soon she moaned and wailed, gave way to the force of her need - and then we came adrift. She shuddered so deeply I was sure she would combust in the air above me, and so released, her spirit would flee on the winds I was so convinced were coming to claim her.

+++++

I spent the rest of the day going over Sabrina's rigging and thru-hulls, then her electrical components for good measure, checking for signs of corrosion or even the slightest loose connection; I cleaned the fuel filters and bled the lines, then changed the engine oil and checked all the seals. Early afternoon saw me up the mast in the bosun's chair -- to check the rigging for signs of damaging corrosion or loose fittings. I fitted the storm trysail to the mast, and took down the sails forward from their roller furling mechanisms and put Sabrina's storm sails on with their heavily reinforced hanks. All tanks full, both battery banks charged, steering cables lubricated, packing glands checked, anchors tied-off yet instantly ready to let slip, the list went on and on and on. Elise worked down below, wrapping loose belongings with any kind of fabric we had on board, dish towels, underwear, spare socks -- you name it, then stuffing everything into drawers and under-berth storage compartments. We stopped to eat a couple of times, just quick sandwiches on-the-go, and then we continued working.

The Sun finally gave up the fight and disappeared behind a wall of thick dark clouds that approached from the southeast, and not long after the wind began to pick up, a light rain to fall. When I had every possible loose item on Sabrina's deck stowed - each a potential deadly missile in the raging winds of a tropical storm - I looked around the boat and relaxed. The Sun - such as it now was - would set in a few hours; around a quarter till seven, so I went below and set blankets and towels out and prepared a sea-berth, started the stove and put on some coffee. I had no idea when Ron's Navy Seals were going to show up, or when we were going to head into town looking for this wayward girl that he had decided was going to come along, and Elise had vanished to the forepeak, apparently deciding to keep out of sight. I looked at the barometer and decided I couldn't blame her. I wanted to be up there too, I thought, as I felt me eyes closing...

I heard a tapping on the hull and looked up. It was dark now and guessed I'd fallen asleep, so I went topsides and stretched. I walked aft to the rail and looked over the side, and there were two guys in black wetsuits, black makeup all over their faces, looking like they'd come right out of the Central Casting.

"You Jim?" one of them said, looking up expectantly.

"Yeah. You guys want to come on up?"

"Where's Fuller's boat?"

I pointed to Blade Runner in the slip across the walkway from Sabrina, and the other diver slipped noiselessly away toward Ron's boat.

"What are you going to do with that gear?" I asked about the scuba equipment hanging off his back.

"Stayin' here , except for a couple of gear bags. I guess I'll go hang under the dock." He disappeared under the water. I looked around at all the crap floating there, and remembered some of the less than friendly animals that hung out in these waters and shuddered. 'Better you than me, Buddy,' I wanted to say.

There was nothing to do but wait now. I puttered around on deck, checking this fitting and that fastener, tying lines and generally looking nervous and busy when - bam! - our end of the marina went very dark - as mysteriously, all the power on the west side of the marina had suddenly gone out. Imagine that! I dropped the boarding ladder and listened as it splashed into the water. Seal number 1, who I soon learned went by the name of Buzz, silently levitated out of the water and climbed into Sabrina's cockpit, only now he was now wearing some real natty Polo swim trunks, and looked for all intents and purposes like a swimsuit model straight out of the pages of Cosmopolitan Magazine. He reached down and lifted two black rubber duffels into the cockpit. Seal 2 followed seconds later, looking like another model from our impromptu Polo shoot. This ugly lad's name was Scoop. I kid you not. I hadn't known people could still do that to their kids - not since the 50s, anyway. They dropped below and dried off, pulled some dry shirts out of their duffels, then slung shoulder-holsters under their windbreakers and tucked little automatic pistols in them. I heard Ron talking up on the dock, then felt him hop on Sabrina's deck.

"Y'all ready to roll?" came the question I'd been dreading all my life, followed by that inevitable Cheshire-cat grin of his.

I slipped up to the forepeak and found Elise curled up, inert. I kissed her on the forehead and told her that I loved her. I heard a faint whispered 'I love you too' drift away from her withdrawn body, then a "please be careful," floated out into the air, apparent to no one but me.

Scoop and Buzz weren't the only two Seals to have come into the marina that night. My two were joined by four others, plus the Ron and the Two Amigos, and of course, me, yet I think I was along for decoration. I doubt there was a less intimidating person in the marina, so I was perfect cover to counter for all of the mega-he-men that had suddenly shown up. We did the drunk party-hardy gringo two-step though the gate, and no one looked up at us as we waltzed on by and jumped into a couple of forty year old Chevies that just happened to be waiting, and off we bounced, down the road into good 'old town' Havana.

The two Amigos and I went on into the fun zone of bars and hookers, and the streets were teeming with Brits and Germans who weren't - apparently - too concerned about the looming tropical storm. We ducked into a couple of old-time roosts and I tossed down more than a few rum somethings, and you couldn't see across the room the cigar smoke was so thick. A couple of señoritas drifted by - sniffing the waters, I guess, looking to score - and one of the Amigos grabbed her and kissed her hard enough to make her turn red...

Then one of the Seals darted in and spoke to the Amigos, they nodded and checked the time. Ron sat silently now, took his first sip of rum and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out, then stood and took off with the Seal, and the rest of us sat around making idle chit-chat for about another hour before we paid up and left. Once outside we each hailed a taxi, not an easy thing to do in Havana, and took off toward the marina in separate cars. We puttered along the back road to the marina, and suddenly, about a hundred yards ahead of the lead taxi, Ron and the Seals - and two women - appeared. Our little caravan stopped and everybody piled in, and off we went again, total time stopped less than 10 seconds -- but I didn't see the last taxi remain in the shadows for a few more minutes. By the time we arrived at the marina the last taxi had caught up to us, and as the taxis stopped we all piled out on the dirt playing the drunken revelers once again, and once we were gathered, still well away from the gate, Ron went to each Seal and said a few words to each, then patted me on the shoulder and said "Good luck."

Thorough. That much was for certain.

I took up the rear of our little band and straggled in behind them, stopped to joke with the guard at the gate, give him a bottle of 151 rum and wished him Good Night, then tottered on my way after the group. Buzz and Scoop were just ahead of me, and Buzz was holding his partner up with great effort. Good acting, I thought, as I rolled up to them.

"Give me a hand, would ya'?" Buzz said.

"Sure thing."

I got up on the other side of Scoop and put my arm around his waist; it was warm and moist, and I could smell that hemoglobin aroma that marks the presence of a lot of blood - over all the rum and cheap cologne that was trailing the main part of the group - now about 10 yards ahead of us. We got him to Sabrina and I helped them below, and when I got down I lowered the salon table, made a big triple-wide berth to lay Scoop on. Elise came aft and looked down at the Seal's shattered belly; it was awash with blood and she gave a little gasp, then asked what was needed.

Ron and another Seal, one that hadn't been on our little excursion, hopped on Sabrina and jumped down the companionway.

"Cover the windows, get some air circulating," Ron said. "Jim, why don't you go forward. This is Taylor, he's a Seal and a doc. We'll take it from here."

Elise came back a few minutes later, and sat with me on the bunk.

"Not exactly how I wanted to spend our last night together," I said. We sat together in silence and listened to the carefully orchestrated ballet that was unfolding just behind the stateroom door. Buzz must have been a paramedic, or whatever they called them in the military. They were quiet, but we could tell they were working fast, working against time.

Next thing I knew Ron was shaking my shoulder, telling me to wake up. I must have bolted up because he told me to settle down, be quiet, and to come with him.

Elise was back in the galley, making coffee just then. Scoop was in the aft stateroom; there was an IV hanging above his head, and Buzz was stuffing blood-soaked sterile surgical dressings and wad after wad of bloody gauze pads into a trash bag.

"You got any ideas how to dispose of this stuff, Jimmy?"

I looked at the clock. At three in the morning?

"Make a small fire down on the beach, take a girl and go down and burn the stuff, act like they're making out."

"You should have been a spook, Jimbo!" Then: "Can you and Elise take care of that?"

Shaking my head, I got some things to start a fire, a couple of blankets, and my last bottle of 151 rum to help the fire get going. Elise and I went up with the huge trashbag and slipped through the shadows down to the beach. The wind was really kicking up now, and waves were pounding the shore in an endless, thunderous procession, but it wasn't raining yet. There were a couple of stone fireplaces that had been built who knows when, and I set about getting a small fire going in one of them.

"Tell me if you see the guards coming," I said, as I thought a fire on the beach in the middle of the night might be enough to get one of the notoriously lazy night watchmen off his can and come down to check it out. I started to toss some of the soiled papers into the fire, and the flames took off with gusto. Unfortunately, the smoke took on a sickly sweet smell, like some kind of weird BBQ was cooking away in the night, and sure enough, the little jeep-like truck by the guard shack sputtered to life.

"Here he comes," Elise said, "in the truck."

I tied off the trash bag, thankful that it was black, and carried it over and put it under some heavy fronds that lay on the sand near a stand of palms, and I knew the little jeep-thing had to cross about a quarter of a mile to get to us. I tossed some more wood on the fire, and anything that looked like it would burn as I stoked the fire, then I turned and looked at Elise.

She was slipping her skirt down around her ankles, then pulling her blouse over her head, all the while with that smile on her face.

Okay, interesting move, so I lay down and got to work. In fact, we both got carried away. I'm sure the guard's view would be more than satisfying, too, something they'd tell their grandchildren about years from now, because there in the firelight, glowing like some berserk orangutan in heat, my bare ass must have looked like an out-of-control oil well pumping away - on top of Elise. I was between her vertically outstretched legs thrashing away like there was no tomorrow, and Elise, God bless her, was wailing away like she was being fucked to death by all of the Green Bay Packers - simultaneously. Anally, even. I mean, I've never heard such filth as what was coming out of that girl's mouth...

And I was lovin' it! Every filthy fucking syllable of it.

And pretty soon old Krakatoa was ready to thunder again, and Elise looked up at me knowingly, the fire reflecting off her face, dancing in her eyes, and my desire for her built like that fire. She grabbed my cock at one point and squeezed, her fingernails digging in as I drove into her, and by that point I felt like a man possessed, and exploded into a frenzy of tectonic thrashing. Elise's legs wrapped around my thighs, and I felt her shuddering into her first orgasm. Her back arched, sand flying everywhere, and then her outstretched hands started slamming into the sand.

The verbal barrage started again, only this time in earnest. Elise was streaming a non-stop barrage of extraordinarily vile filth from her mouth, and now she bucked and twisted underneath me like a striking serpent, periodically kicking the backs of my thighs with her heels. I kept growing inside of her. It had been years since my dick had felt like this...it kept getting harder and thicker, then harder still, so hard that it hurt on the inside, and then I knew I was about to explode!

All of a sudden Elise tossed me over on my back and climbed on top. She rode me harder still, her language became insanely vile, then she came again, began screamed in ragged, gasping breaths, screaming in Spanish and French and English - simultaneously! In the fire she looked like some kind of sexually charged demon - totally possessed and hell-bent for the biggest orgasm of her life...

And I was totally in love with her by this point. Madly, deeply - a forever kind of love.

Suddenly she slowed, and I could feel the head of my cock sliding inside her, running gently up to the end of her womb, and the sensation was soon driving us both wild. She took these impossibly long up-strokes, the walls of her vagina milking my cock as she soared above me, rising over and beyond me - then she slammed down as hard as she could, repeatedly, over and over, impaling herself on the rocks, driving my cock deeper and deeper with each renewed plunge.

Then I held her hips down and pumped in furious staccato bursts; I felt my head swelling like a cobra's, just before it strikes, twitching and dancing - hoping for release - and Elise could feel it, too. She watched my breathing, watched my eyes close, and as the moment drew near she hopped off my groin and slid down between my legs, then jacked my cock savagely -- with both hands. She held her head about a foot above my cock as she jacked, he mouth wide open, her tongue searching the air for the scent of it's prey.

Then Mister Krakatoa did his thing. All I could see were thunderstorms and howling winds in the mists that shot through my orgasm, lightning bolts of lust glowing through partially closed eyes. I looked down in time to see huge ropey blasts arcing up into her mouth. Her eyes and mouth were consumed with greedy lust, her mouth darted to and fro, nabbing little globules that shot through the air in random bursts. Watching her only served to increase the strength of my contractions, and the last few bursts flew up with what felt like tremendous velocity.

She tilted her head back, and in the firelight I could see her playing with my cum in her mouth with her tongue, swirling it around in the wind, making little bubbles with it, reveling in the pure energy of our release, in her total mastery of the essence within me.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the security guard crouched behind a tree, and I think they had enjoyed the show very much. Indeed, I'm pretty sure he had been playing a solo on the skin flute - to a resounding finale of his own.

+++++

After the guards left, we burned off the rest of the waste and sat around on the blankets watching distant thunderstorms growling in the pre-dawn sky. I guessed the winds to be coming out of the northeast at about thirty knots now, so the center of the depression was drawing near.