Frances II

Note: these last two posts are a chronology. It's best to read the last post before you read this one. But that's up to you. I try not to tell folks what to do.

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In the morning we would set sail and casually make our way east by north east, round the tip of Long Island, Bahamas, then turn south through deep water and make our way to Crooked Island and Pittstown Point. But that would be in the morning.

Look, I already said this blog isn’t for the kiddies. If you’re offended by straight talk, go read someone else’s site. I’m going to tell you what happened that evening and that night. It’s not like you can’t guess. But it’s more than just the obvious. Here’s how I remember it:

“Packer, what do want out of life?”

I looked straight ahead and thought for a few moments.

She continued, “When you dial out all the noise and you start thinking about how you’d like to spend the rest of your days, what is it you dream about?”

“I’ll be honest, there’s been a lot of days where my biggest dream was just to make it to the next.”

“It comes with your life, your occupation, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does.”

“But I know you, Packer. You’re a survivor. You’ll die an old man. I can see that in you.”

I looked at her. I gazed into her eyes. She looked back without blinking.

“I suppose you’re right. I have a fierce will to live.”

“So I’ll ask it again, Packer, what do you want out of life?”

“What do YOU want out of life?”

“Nice try, Packer. Don’t turn it around on me. Just answer the question. If I think you’re genuine, I’ll answer it too.”

“Well, I’d like peace. I mean I’d like peace in my life. No turmoil. I’d like to have a faithful woman who doesn’t judge me for my flaws.”

“Packer? You have flaws?”

She threw her head back and laughed. It was an endearing laugh, not a mocking one. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeh, I’ve got flaws. And I think I’d like kids. Yeh, kids. A girl and a boy. Not in that order. My son would look out for his sister. Protect her.”

“Your son would be like you? Ever on a mission to protect the weak?”

“You think that’s my mission?”

“Oh Jesus, Packer, you’ve got the biggest Christ complex I’ve ever encountered. Just let there be a hint of injustice somewhere and you’re ready to take up arms, to move mountains, to take on entire countries to protect the little guy.”

I thought, then spoke, “No I don’t.”

She laughed again. “Ok you don’t. What else do you want?”

“Well, that pretty well covers the important stuff. Domestic tranquility, a faithful woman, loving children. Rich wouldn’t be bad.”

“No, rich wouldn’t be bad,” she agreed.

“How about you, Frances, what do you want?”

She looked out toward the setting sun, orange clouds brilliantly lit by the late evening light. Her look was far away, maybe a little troubled.

“I can’t ever have what I want, Packer.”

She reached into a clothing locker and took one of my long-sleeve cotton shirts, slipping into it, “It’s cooling of just a bit.”

“Oh come on, you got me to confess to wanting a plain and simple life. You can’t back out now.”

“Oh, I’m not backing out. I can tell you what I want. But I also know I can never have it. It’s a feeling, Packer, like a certain knowledge that what I want and what I need can never cross paths with what I will get.”

“That’s bull shit.”

“Packer, there’s things about me you don’t know.”

“Cut the mystery crap, what do I need to know that I don’t already?”

“Nothing, you don’t need to know anything. But I’ve made choices in my life. I’ve done things. They determine the future. All I’m saying is that I’m resigned to live for today because there may not be a tomorrow.”

Our conversation grew silent. She looked far away. I studied her face. She was not happy. She was not sad. The spell over her broke and she looked at me directly.

“Packer, I’m here tonight. I’m with you. Neither one of us can guarantee tomorrow. Personally, I’m in favor of living for right now.”

Frances gently took my face in her hands and slowly moved her lips toward mine. Her eyes closing, I could feel her warm breath. Our lips met and I could feel myself falling into a deep, deep peace, a peace that washed my soul, a peace that covered me from head to toe.

“Come,” she spoke, leading me below to the berth which was made in the main salon. She slid the hatch to the outside closed, not so much for privacy, but to keep in the afternoon’s lingering warmth. The sun slid below the horizon and the salon was illuminated with soft, yellow light.

She sat on the side of the berth and undid my belt. Sliding the zipper down, she pulled my shorts to the floor. Stepping out of them, I stood naked before her.

She stood up and I unbuttoned the shirt, slipping my hands inside and feeling the softness of her sides, her back, her breasts. She cooed softly, enjoying the touch.
I removed the shirt and tossed it aside. Gently I pulled her bikini briefs down and to the floor where she obediently stepped out of them.

I don’t care how many lovers you have in life, you always remember the first time with someone. And Frances was not just someone. She was a powerful spirit and a commanding presence. Her complete surrender to me was an energizing sensation that filled my manhood with desire and satisfaction.

Reclining, we made love. It was passionate, torrid, fevered, soft, smooth, gliding, brisk, invigorating, close, personal, intimate. Did I mention that it was also repeated several times through the night?

I could go on with details, Frances wouldn’t mind in the least. Embarrassment was not something that ever concerned her. But I think you get the point. We made love in the fore castle, in the main salon, on the teak top-side, in the cockpit, There was no place we did not couple.

Frances surprised me with her tender, delicate passion. I hadn’t expected the intensity. But there was a problem. I was hooked. Something that occasionally touches a man, a feeling of ownership and obligation, something mystical and powerful, well, that something touched me that night. Quite frankly, that’s why I’m telling you about Frances now, out of order in the chronology of my life. It was a pivotal point.

But it was not to be. I’ll try to explain tomorrow.


Faithfully submitted,
Teddy Packer