Dumped at Sea

"Oh, you would, would you?" she said. "And suppose I don't let you."

Eric said something and she laughed, reflexively covering herself with one hand and brushing the sodden hair from her face with the other. She leant over the transom, said something to him and let the ladder down. Eric's prick was tenting his shorts as he climbed the ladder. I followed him onto the boat and as Debbie went below with him she turned in the companionway, and saw that I was flatteringly imitating Eric.

"God!" she exclaimed. "The both of you!"

I shrugged helplessly, and turned to pull up the ladder.

We motored down the channel, past the old Coastguard cutter tied up along the wall, and exchanged greetings with the morning joggers on the shore. After clearing the channel entrance with its little lighthouse we put the sails up and were soon bounding along in a fresh breeze. The wind was on our beam, and thanks to a stationary high pressure over the Great Lakes it was likely to be that way all day. I knew we could look forward to a relaxed day's sailing without sail changes, lounging in the cockpit and soaking up the spring sunshine.

I will admit to wondering how relaxed it was going to be, though. Eric had been moody ever since I picked him up at the dock. Debbie had been doing her best to be good company, but this morning's dunking must surely have tested her good nature. She'd certainly given him an earful, and if it had been me, that's when I would have told Debbie I'd had enough of her yelling abuse at me and she could go find some other sucker. He'd engineered the situation, so why didn't he follow through and make it an excuse to ditch her. But instead he'd followed her below deck with a hard-on while I got the boat ready for us to leave. So now, instead of getting it over with, and, I had hoped, giving me the opportunity to offer a little sympathy; now we were going to have to suffer more passive aggressive behavior from Eric while he tried to tell his girl-friend it was all over. Or more likely, it being Eric, trying to needle her to the point that she would tell him she'd had enough of him, instead.

Debbie, though, seemed blessed with an equanimity that made Eric seem particularly graceless. He didn't talk to her, didn't really even look at her, but she chatted amiably with me while the three of us sat in the cockpit. She asked questions about how the sails were set, and how to steer the boat. I was happy to teach her, standing close behind her at the wheel, enjoying the pleasure she took in guiding the boat through the water. It takes most people some time to get the hang of it, but Debbie stood confidently at the wheel in a sarong and bikini top looking like a large and underdressed version of Ellen MacArthur.

By late morning we had covered close to 20 miles. There was open water ahead of us and the shoreline had disappeared astern. There was a cool bite to the wind when we left the harbor, but by now it had warmed nicely. Debbie took a towel and went to sun herself on the fore-deck, while Eric practiced shuffling his deck of cards in the cockpit.

I asked Eric if he wanted a drink. He looked up from his cards.

"Sure," he said. "I'll drink your pissy beer."

I would have laughed, but it didn't sound as if he was joking.

"Well, take the boat, then."

He took the wheel and I went below to get a beer out of the icebox. Debbie was lying on the deck sunning her back next to the forward hatch, so I stuck my head through it to ask her what she wanted. She'd undone her bikini top and I had some trouble concentrating on her answer.

"What?"

"What do you have?"

Every boat has its special boat drink. I have friends who take great pride in their margaritas, but on my boat gin and tonic is the signature drink. I love the refreshing lemony crispness of a G&T on a hot day.

"How about a gin and tonic?"

"It's a bit early for me. I don't want to get squiffy."

I laughed. "Oh, I don't mind! You can get as squiffy as you like. In fact I'll have one too."

"I'll come back and have it in the cockpit," she said, sitting up just as I ducked my head back into the cabin. So I put my head back up again.

"Ice?"

Damn! Too late! She was already fastening the strap. She laughed.

"Of course!"

We sat and drank in the cockpit. Eric surrendered the wheel as quickly as he could, and went back to shuffling cards between swigs of beer. I know I've said that Eric was a friend that you can rely on but I was beginning to wish he would be a bit more help running the boat.

Debbie must have been thirsty because it didn't take her long to finish her gin, even though I'd made it a long one.

"Another?"

I went below while she took the wheel.

When I got back they had decided to play cards, and as I said, I'm not much of a card player, so I sailed the boat while they played. When it was Debbie's turn to deal she shuffled the pack with precision. It's a long time since I saw someone handle cards like that. Her hands moved with a deftness and rapidity that would have done credit to a Monte Carlo croupier. She split the pack with a snap, interleaved the piles of cards with a brisk zapping noise and dealt them neatly across the cockpit table. If it'd been me doing it there would have been cards on the floor and some would have blown away to float on the waves.

And then she proceeded to demolish Eric at cards. She seemed to have a natural affinity for the little pasteboard squares. She never seemed to forget what had been played, and to have an innate understanding of the probabilities of particular cards appearing, and of sequences of cards.

"Let's play for something," said Debbie.

"Like what?"

"Well, I don't know. Like, forfeits or something."

I had quite enjoyed watching them play, but it was beginning to rankle that I seemed to be stuck sailing the boat the whole time.

"I know – loser steers the boat for an hour, so I can take a break."

"OK," said Debbie. "Eric?"

"Sure."

"Don't be so grumpy."

"I'm not."

"It's because you know you're going to lose, isn't it?"

Eric grunted. They played and of course Eric lost again.

"OK, Eric my friend, she's all yours. Steady as you go. I'll go make some sandwiches. Another beer? Debbie?"

"I'm OK. Just a little more tonic."

I'm a good host, so I put a little more gin in as well, and passed the drinks up to them. Debbie smiled a little lopsidedly at me when she took the drinks but she seemed to have her sea legs and managed to get both drinks back to the helm without spilling anything. I smiled and started to make the sandwiches.

When I climbed the companionway steps to set the mustard and some celery and carrot sticks in the cockpit, Eric was standing at the wheel looking like a professional skipper, gripping the wheel and focusing his eyes on the distant horizon. The only thing that spoilt the illusion of dedicated professionalism was that Debbie was standing behind him with a hand down the front of his shorts and was working his cock up and down. Eric might have been steering the boat, but it was Debbie who had her hand on the tiller.

I suppose I could have stayed and watched. Eric didn't seem to notice me and Debbie's face was buried in his shoulder. But I went back to finish making the food, and took my time since they seemed to be enjoying themselves and I didn't want to be a party pooper.

Suddenly the boat lurched to port sending the plates and food cascading across the cabin. There was a crash as the boom swung across the boat and the rigging shook to the flapping of the sails and the screeching of blocks as ropes ran through them. The boat stopped, dead in the water, wallowing in the waves.

"Holy shit! What the fuck was that?"

I ran up the steps into the cockpit. The boom was swinging backwards and forwards just above my head. There was no-one at the wheel. Debbie was bent over the stern, her sarong hoisted above her haunches, while Eric fucked her from behind, having let go of the wheel to hang on to Debbie's hips instead. He took no notice of me, just rhythmically pounded his cock into his soon to be ex-girlfriend.

I charged for the wheel, afraid something on my boat was going to break if I didn't get her straightened up, and barged Eric out of the way.

Eric swore as his cock was dislodged from inside Debbie, and while I wrestled with the wheel, he tried to reinsert himself. But what with me pushing Debbie out of the way, Debbie trying to stand up, Debbie shouting, "Eric, stop! Please Eric, stop!" and the wild rocking of the boat, he couldn't do it. Creamy sperm shot from Eric's cock, splattering Debbie's thigh and the helmsman's seat.

"Shit!"

Eric pushed past me, and by the time I had the boat back under control and we were sailing again he'd gone below leaving Debbie wiping herself with her sarong.

"I'm sorry, Lew."

Her face was red and there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"It's OK. You weren't the one who was supposed to be steering the boat."

"I know, but it's my fault. Once I get him started – well, you know what he's like."

I laughed, despite myself.

"No really, I don't. He's never done that to me."

"Oh, no! I didn't mean........." She blushed again. "What I meant was he just gets carried away. I don't think he can stop himself."

"Don't you think all guys are like that?"

"Well, I suppose. But he's............." She struggled for a word.

"Vigorous?"

"Insatiable." A pause. "You know I think he really loves me."

What could I say? I didn't say anything.

"I don't want to hurt him. He just seems so desperate sometimes."

Desperate? Sure, he was horny, but – heck – I thought he was trying to get rid of her. And she thinks he's desperate for her? Just because he kept screwing her? Someone really had their wires crossed.

It turned out it was me.

"Lew? - do you mind if I tell you something? I don't hardly know you, but I do know you and Eric are really close. I'm really very fond of him, but......."

"But what?"

"Lew, please don't think badly of me." Her voice dropped and she leant close to me. "I'm married."

"Married?" I know it was not a sensible reply. I heard exactly what she said, but I couldn't immediately figure out what this new piece of information meant, except that I was getting out of my depth.

"Does Eric know?"

"No. That's the point."

"What do you mean –'that's the point'?"

"I met him in a bar. I wasn't even looking to pick someone up. I was there with Jane – well, you don't know Jane. We were just having a night out. And Eric was really nice. I thought he was going after Jane."

"And?"

"Jane gave him my phone number, and he called me the next day and asked me out. I just thought we'd have a drink or something. You know – just for the company. But he was very persistent."

I laughed. "That's Eric, all right."

"And then we started – you know, the sex."

"And you think he's in love with you?"

"I don't know? I don't know what to think? He's suddenly so moody and I don't want to upset him. Do you think he suspects something?"

"No, I don't think it's that! It's just Eric. Sometimes he's like that."

What was I supposed to do? Tell her why Eric was acting weird? Tell her he was about to pull the plug on their affair? A couple of minutes ago he'd been screwing her on the stern of my boat. Hell, the seats were still slippery from the spillage and her sarong had fresh wet spots on it. This wasn't the time for me to be explaining to her the realities of life.

"You see the problem is my husband's in Dubai."

"Oh! Then he's a long way away."

"No. He's coming home....... on Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" That was the day after tomorrow.

"Lew. I need to end it. I need to tell him it's over."

"Who?"

"Eric, of course. How am I going to do that?"

Now I was beginning to see the whole picture. These two were having an adulterous affair, fucking each other all over my boat, and both desperate to end it. But I was the only one of the three of us who knew what was going on.

I supposed I could tell Eric that his lover was married and her husband was coming home, and that once the boat docked the fucking was over and he was a free man. That would make him happy, unless of course he was upset by the fact that she'd been stringing him along. His ego might not like that.

Or I could tell her that Eric had a date in Vermont and was dumping her anyway, but the downside to that was that she might be upset at being the 'dumpee' instead of the dumper.

Or I could say nothing, keep both of their confidences and see what happened. I didn't like that idea. There's nothing worse than having miserable people on a boat. Misery is contagious, and these two had managed to make themselves, and each other, miserable without knowing how they had done it. I'd have to spend the rest of the trip hoping against hope that one of them would do something to end the impasse. It would be better to roll the dice. It might not get any better, but we wouldn't be stuck in this limbo. I was going to tell her.

"Debbie - Lew was going to end it too."

"He told you that? But he's been all over me – you saw him. I mean, I wish you hadn't, but you saw."

"Yeah, I know. I don't understand it either. But he was looking for a way to break it to you. He wanted to let you down gently."

"Well, fuck – he didn't let me down. He pumped me up."

That was true – the sight of his bare buttocks driving his cock in and out of her was seared on my brain

"He's such a shit! Why didn't he just tell me? I'm going to show the little bastard. "

"Show him what?"

"I don't know, but I'll think of something."

She disappeared below decks and yelled at him for the second time in the day. This time she really reamed him out, and it was much worse than the one he got for dunking her in the water this morning. I didn't hear all she said, but at some point I heard Eric shout, "What do you mean you are married?"

After that a verbal free-for-all ensued, which I couldn't follow. It's surprising how much noise a sailboat makes pounding through the water at six knots. The noise of the wind, of the hull punching through the waves, the creak and groan of the rigging, and the thrumming of the sail make normal conversation difficult unless you speak directly at someone. They were doing that all right, but up on deck I could only hear snatches of words. The words I caught clearly were mostly curse words, and there were a lot of them, and they were delivered with vigor by both Debbie and Eric.

After a while things quietened down, and Eric reappeared in the cockpit, looking rather shaken. He gave me a weak smile, and raised his thumb, which I presumed meant that he had successfully removed Debbie from his life. I suppose your interpretation of what happened depended on your viewpoint, but it seemed to me that it was more than likely that Debbie was the one that had cleaned house! Eric didn't actually say anything, just pulled out the cards and started compulsively shuffling them again.

Debbie's appearance was a little different. She had armed herself with a fresh drink, and climbed the companionway, still in the soiled sarong and the bikini top that barely contained her. She looked flushed and angry, and would have looked determined if it wasn't for the barely detectable quivering of her lower lip. She dropped to the seat opposite Eric, took long draughts from her gin and tonic, and glared at him. Eric continued to concentrate on his cards.

"Why are you always shuffling the damn cards?"

Eric shrugged and kept on doing it.

"You're no damn good at cards. I don't know why you bother."

That remark finally got to Eric.

"OK – let's play, and we'll see."

"You're as useless at it as you are at everything else."

Ouch!

"Look! You want to play, let's play. Otherwise shut-up!"

"Deal! Asshole!"

"What are we playing for?"

Eric snapped the cards. Debbie thought for a minute. . "Let's play for the same thing we played for before, but this time you take the wheel for the rest of the ..... what?" She looked at me.

"The watch. For a full watch. Four hours."

"You take the wheel for the whole watch thing. You just keep your fucking hands on the wheel, and then we won't have to mess with you. You never take your hands off it."

"What if I win?"

"Ha – I'll do the same! You can tie me to the wheel for all I care. But you won't win. You've never ever beaten me!"

Debbie didn't seem to have any doubt that she was going to beat him, and was clearly looking forward to it. She suddenly didn't seem as angry, and she'd got some of her confidence back. She took a triumphant swig of her drink. Demolishing Eric at cards was going to be fun for her. I hoped for her sake this wasn't an example of unjustifiable bravado fueled by Bombay Gin. Though on previous form Eric stood as much chance of surviving another game of cards as did a snowflake in hell.

"Now deal the fucking cards!"

"Do you mind not swearing so much," I said. "I really don't like it."

In reality I don't mind swearing at all, but it was my boat and I like to appear to be in charge! I am the Captain, after all.

She looked me in the eye and said very emphatically, "Well, fuck you too!"

And then she gave me her winning gap-toothed smile.

"Deal the cards, Eric." That was better.

They played cards with ferocity. I've never seen people play like that. They slapped cards down on the table, zapped through the deck to shuffle the cards, and dealt cards with such momentum that they spent a lot of time picking them up off the floor. Both played with fierce concentration. After half an hour Debbie had the upper hand, and Eric went to get a couple of beers for us and refill Debbie's glass.

While he was gone, Debbie rearranged her breasts in her bikini top, and leant over and put her hand on my knee.

"He's so hopeless, Lew. I don't know why he bothers."

She giggled and said "Four whole hours!" I have to admit I felt a stirring in my pants, as I imagined what Debbie and I could do for four hours while Eric was manacled to the wheel.

The denouement was not what I expected. As she gulped her way through another drink Debbie's card skills began to evaporate, along with her good humor. Despite my admonition about bad language on my boat she was cursing under her breath and playing worse and worse.

Eventually Eric said "OK, Debbie. This is it. You lose this hand and you're on watch for the next four hours!"

Debbie shook her head.

"This isn't fair. You must be cheating!"

Eric laughed at her. "I'm not cheating. You're playing like crap."

"No, I've had bad luck and I think you cheat. I always play better than you do. I always win."

"Not this time!"

"I play much better than you do. This isn't fair," she repeated. There was defeat in her voice.

She brightened up, suddenly.

"I'll tell you what, let's just cut the cards and if I lose I'll stand the watch."

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Eric. "I'm about to win, and there's no way I'm going to lose unless you have the world's longest winning streak. If we cut the cards I've got an even chance of four hours stuck at the wheel. You're out of your mind."

"OK, then. What if...... if I lose I'll do it all day."

"Nope," I said. "That's ridiculous."

"OK, what then?"

Eric laughed. "You said we could tie you to the wheel."

"No I didn't. You make stuff up."

She looked at me, frowning.

"I didn't say that, did I, Lew?"

"Yeah, you did. I'm sorry, but you did."

"I did, didn't I?" she said in a small voice. The bluster and confidence had gone. "I'm not sure I like this. What would I be tied with?"

"Oh, we'll use a sail tie," I started to say.

Eric interrupted me. "With your bikini top!"

"No, Eric! That's awful! You wouldn't."

She looked at me for help. I smile at her and shrugged.