The Short Happy Life of Island Bill

Then she realized that she had more-or-less implied that my name was childish and she blushed.

I said, "Don't worry about it. I'm from Alabama and every William down there is either Billy Bob, or Billy Joe. No offence taken."

I gave her an affable smile and went back to steer. She gave me an odd sleepy smile and went up front to sun herself. Buster just sat next to me slobbering.

I was watching the sails for a while, in order to gauge the wind.

When I looked back up the foredeck I nearly dumped the whole boat. She had taken off her polo shirt and shorts and was just spreading out a towel to lie down on.

I expected her to be in some kind of sexy bikini. Instead, she was wearing a microfiber one piece swimsuit.

It passably covered her entire body in black fabric. And if it had been made out of cotton she would have almost looked dowdy.

But because the polymer material was one-micron thick every nuance and feature of that absolutely superb female body was visible. It was like she was wearing nothing but black paint.

It was such an erotic sight that I sprang something inappropriate.

Thank God her older brother and his wife were watching the wake or I might have been keelhauled on my own boat.

To say that she had a superb body was an understatement. It looked like an idealized drawing of female anatomy.

Janet has a body to die for. But it is built for sex, huge tits, tiny waist and the kind of ass and hips that you want to grab two handfuls of and ram yourself into.

This woman was built for function; speed and strength, lithe and sleek. I have never seen any woman so strikingly perfect.

When you looked at her, the image of a Cheetah, or a Formula One car, or a supersonic fighter plane came to mind, lethal, forceful and absolutely compelling.

It was the female form as originally intended by the Designer. But perfectly rendered in flesh. It was awe inspiring.

I changed my assessment from tennis player to dancer. You don't get a body that perfectly tight and yet supple without years of dance training.

It clearly wasn't ballet though. Ballerinas are flat chested. They have to be in order to keep the straight physical lines of the ballet.

This woman had two huge round hills perfectly anchored as high as possible on her chest.

Janet's boobs are massive and of necessity float on her ribs. This woman's tits didn't move. It was like comparing a big cantaloupe to a watermelon.

I was actually kind of disillusioned by the faultlessness of her boobs. Since the only conclusion I could draw from their absolute perfection was that she had had bought them.

And I am not interested in a woman who would do that to herself.

It was just that she didn't seem like that kind of woman. She just radiated forthright, open and modest. I felt the first seeds of something growing.

----

I dropped my passengers at the Fort-de-France Marina Dock which is right in the middle of the city.

The cruise terminal is next door and I was under diesel all of the way across Fort-de-France Bay. That was because I needed the steerage to NOT end up under the keel of one of the monster cruise ships coming and going from there like elephants among chipmunks.

I saw all of my passengers off onto the dock and then pulled back into the harbor and dropped the anchors.

Coming into Fort-de-France is a little like the approach to Calais, same waterfront and Norman church tower. But the housing that runs all the way up the surrounding hills is pure island creole.

They had decided to just spend the day shopping since they were going to meet their older sister and her family that night.

Mary and her boy-toy wanted to stay on-board and drink. But I convinced them that the local distilleries had tasting rooms so it was worth the trip.

Seemingly, the prospect of sampling free high grade rum piqued their interest more than sex. Plus, they had already had enough of THAT to tide them over for a while.

Mary was a puzzle. She was clearly a first-class, buttoned-down yuppie woman, very much in command.

At the same time she had spent the three hours it took to get over to Martinique drinking and carousing with a stranger who was about ten years younger than she was.

In addition, it was obvious that the two of them had gotten quite friendly in my little forward cuddy. It was no skin off my nose. And I had plenty of spare sheets to change the bed. But the contrast between her uptight exterior and her unselective appetites was thought-provoking.

I wondered if deep down inside Milly was as voracious as her sister.

Milly spent the time on the way over to Martinique on the foredeck working on her tan.

She was alternating lying on her back, and then her front. Whatever side she was on was so distracting that I stopped looking straight off the bow.

She was comfortable with her family there. And not trying to be exhibitionistic in any way. But the material of the suit was so thin that it was like she was naked. It smoothed out the valleys. So some things were still left to the imagination. But her woman goods were on full display.

As a result, when she was lying on her stomach her magnificent jutting buns and her powerful hips were giving me a hard-on.

And when she was on her back her big round meaty boobs were even more disturbing. Particularly because the sun made her nipples sprout to acorn proportions.

Even covered by the suit those two features looked like stalwart watch towers standing proudly on the magnificent mounds of her chest.

That vision was making me harder than titanium.

And I am not even going to get into what happened to me when she turned over. For a very short period she was on all-fours in that classic doggy position. The suit kept things from being too explicit. But the outline of those big fat lips in between her full muscular legs was giving me thoughts that I hadn't had in well over a year.

In fact, on the short ride over to Martinique, Milly and that suit appeared to have completely cured me of whatever sexual dysfunctions Janet might have instilled.

It was a fucking miracle!

Fortunately Milly changed back into the polo and shorts to go into the City. She would have set off civil insurrection among the male population if she had appeared in Fort-de-France in that suit.

As she was stepping up onto the dock she said rather hopefully, "Would you like to come with us?"

I said, "I would love to but I've got to keep an eye on the boat. You guys have a good time. The Rue Victor Hugo is the place where the expensive shops are. And if you want to eat try Chez Carole. The Rum Distillery Tour at Le Diamant is to die for."

She said, "Thank you" and shyly squeezed my arm.

What a rush!! I knew what THAT meant.

Buddy and I sat in the sun all day and waited. I normally kill the time playing on the internet, or reading. Today I was just thinking.

I had been badly burned by a beautiful woman and I was not interested in revisiting that experience.

But this girl, and she was still only mid-twenties, seemed different. There was something special about her. It was the sense of rock solid personal integrity that she just exuded.

She was a giver, not a taker. And in that respect she was poles apart from Janet.

For one thing she was not a vamp. Janet for all of her intelligence and common sense knew the effect that she had on men and she was always up for using it.

Milly either didn't know that she was smoking hot gorgeous, or it didn't matter to her.

Janet was a professional games player. That is what all sales people do.

Milly was so straightforward in the way that she approached people that she was like the girl next door, almost naïve in her worldview. It was refreshing.

Janet's intelligence was like a guy's, always on display for others to see. You could tell how smart she was just by talking to her.

In some respects Milly might be smarter. But it was a woman's intelligence, subtle, nuanced and less conspicuously egocentric.

And did I mention her innate sexuality?

At first she had wanted to burn me at the stake, for checking her out. But there was something in the way that she walked and held herself that made me think that once you got her motor running she might be even hotter than Janet. And Janet was like an active volcano.

Her mention of her sister's children also fascinated me. We were childless because Janet wanted a career. Milly seemed to have a special love for children. That fit perfectly with all of the other elements of her personality. And I wanted kids.

Using the word, "together" to describe somebody is so 1960s. But that was Milly in a nutshell. She was comfortable within her own skin. She knew who she was and she had nothing that she needed to prove.

She was cheerful, open and kind and spontaneously affectionate. And for the first time in almost 14 months I found myself speculating about romance.

That was the point where my little voice reminded me that I was sixteen years older than she was. So it was unlikely she would even find me attractive.

She probably had plenty of hot young twenty-seven year old studs to take care of her needs at home.

But I was wondering if she might like to try an island fling with an older man, just to get me back in the game so to speak. It was something to think about.

They finally called at 7:00 and told me to pick them up. The women were loaded with bags and boxes from the nearly Parisian shopping experience that Martinique offers.

The older brother wanted to tell me about the Central Market like I had never been there. Then he and his wife went up forward holding hands. It was kind of innocent and sweet.

Mary and her boy-pet were sloshed from the rum tour and they quickly retired to the cabin closing the hatch behind them. Definitely an unsubtle hint.

Milly came and sat with me and Buddy at the wheel. She was doing that woman thing where they start to want to get to know you better.

The sun setting in the tropics is very romantic and it was off our right shoulders in all of its purple and gold glory. She was sitting on the bench next to the helmsman's chair with her arms wrapped around those fabulous legs solemnly studying me, watching me steer.

I said, "Do you want to try it?"

She looked absolutely delighted and said, "Can I?"

I shifted over to let her onto the bench. Her hard flank and leg against mine was doing wonderful things for my libido.

I showed her the compass and said, "Make sure that little arrow is pointing toward 170 and keep it there.

"A sailboat is like a living thing. The helmsman, the boat and the wind are all parts of the same entity. So steer by feel."

She gave me a dreamy look and then went back to steering. She was chewing on her lower lip, concentrating furiously. It was totally endearing.

I was aware of that superb female body plastered against my side but it was more like a companionship thing, a bonding experience rather than a sexual moment.

As she steered she casually said, "Were you born down here?"

I knew what she was fishing for. I have not talked to a single person on that island about my former life. I was a boat bum to her and that is the way I was going to keep it.

I said, "No, I am from the States but this is where I want to be."

I didn't add, "Until my heart heals."

She said, still fishing, "Do your wife and kids live here with you?"

I said, "I have neither. It's just me and Buddy."

She said, "Aren't you lonely?"

I said, "Once in a while."

She had no idea HOW lonely I was and I was never going to enlighten her.

There was nothing left to say after that. So we just sailed along in comfortable comradeship in the rapidly growing darkness.

I took over when it became full dark. She lay back on the bench with her hands behind her head and said with wonder, "Look at those stars?"

I said, "The Ocean at night kind of puts you in touch with the universe. Reminds you how small and unimportant you are in the great scheme of things."

For the past 400 or so days I had needed the continual reminder that the events in my life meant nothing to anybody else. It kept me sane.

But sitting here with this woman was thawing me out. I was beginning to think of future rather than past. That fact terrified me.

I dropped them at the Sandals dock. Their tip was generous.

Milly had been getting more and more agitated as we came in on the diesels.

Finally she turned to me and said with anxiety in her voice, "Can I hire you to show my sister and her family around tomorrow? They could use a good guide."

I said, "Certainly, just call this number" and I gave her one of my cards. I was disturbed by how happy that made me.

They all trooped up the dock carrying their booty from pillaging the shops in Martinique.

Actually her brother and his wife were strolling along hand in hand. Mary and her beau, who seemed to have fucked several times from the sounds emanating from the cabin, were staggering. And Milly was walking ahead of them in all her pantherish grace.

She was an absolutely stunning woman. A trophy that any man would be proud of.

----

My phone woke me up at 8:00 the following morning. It was Milly and she sounded disgustingly chipper. I had gotten the boat docked and done the usual post excursion maintenance and cleaning by midnight.

But for the first time in a long time I drank myself to sleep.

I always keep the door to the cuddy open so I can use the head at night. And Buddy always sleeps at the foot of the ladder leading down into the cabin for our mutual security.

But for some reason I had closed the cuddy door and it was already getting hot in there. I think that was an indication of my confused state of mind.

Milly said eagerly, "My sister and her family want to take an excursion. Can you pick us up at the dock again?"

I said, "Where do you want to go?"

She said, "Just around the Island. I told them how wonderful it is to be out on the ocean in your boat."

I really didn't need the money but I wanted to see her again. So an hour later I was pulling in to the same landing spot that I had visited the day before.

My faithful beast was standing at his usual post on the bow looking as nautical as Lord Horatio Nelson himself. All he needed was a tricorn, a waistcoat and a spyglass.

Milly hopped onto the boat before I had actually gotten it tied up. There were seven of them this time, although four of them didn't account for much space.

There was a woman who was as stunningly attractive as Milly. She was shorter and she had Janet sized boobs. Her face was as perfectly proportioned as Milly's. And she was just gorgeous.

She was late-thirties and she was holding a 4 year old with one hand and a six year old girl with the other. An older kid, perhaps 12 was helping a girl who looked to be about 8 onto the boat.

The little girl had her mother's exceptional beauty. And even at age 8 she was starting to grow hips. She also seemed to hero-worship the older boy.

It was the Dad who worried me. In fact he frightened me so much that I almost backed out and took off.

That is because the dad was Bill Hughes. He is a hacker extraordinaire who I knew through my work with the alphabet Agencies in Washington.

He owns a big company in Falls Church that specializes in penetration testing and he would know Professor William Butler if that guy still existed.

Fortunately Billy Joe the boat bum didn't look even remotely like that other guy. And I was counting on Hughes not expecting to encounter me on the Island of St. Lucia. But I wished I had grown a beard.

They all boarded, the kids somewhat gingerly. It was clearly a new experience for all of them.

Everybody was provided a life vest and I dieseled out far enough to hoist the sails.

While I was motoring out, the kids were all loving on poor Buddy. He was standing there suffering their attention. But he was cutting me looks like, "Save me Boss!!"

I just assumed that Milly and I would do the sail hauling since she was getting to be an old hand.

But she immediately involved the older boy and girl. She even added the six year old to her deck crew. That girl was obviously an exceptional specimen of female athleticism, just like her aunt.

I unbattened the sail and Milly and her hearty crew took it from there.

They didn't even use the winch. They just hauled the sail up the mast. It was like. "Yo-Ho-Ho and a Bottle of Rum."

That particular feat of seamanship was mainly attributable to the fact that the bosun who was supervising the deck crew was in all probability as strong as I was.

On the other hand it was a wonderful nurturing gesture. It was something that only a woman who loved and understood children would make.

Her older sister was watching all of them work the sails with love burning in her eyes. I was beginning to see what a real caring family looked like.

I was also relieved to see that her husband Bill, who she was wrapped around like a high school girl, clearly had no clue who I was.

We did a complete circuit off shore from Castries around Vieux-Fort Bay. I anchored off Sandy Beach and ran them in for a picnic.

That is the best beach on the island. Even if the tranquility is occasionally shattered by the noise of a jet arriving at Hewanorra Airport. Which is located right behind the beach.

I let Milly steer part of the way along the coast. She surprised me by asking, "Can Billy try it?"

Billy was the 12 year old. Milly and he seemed to have a special bond. It was almost like she was his "other" mother.

I had never met a brighter and more manly and respectful kid. So against my better judgment I said, "Sure."

The kid took the wheel under Milly's guidance and the two of them steered for several minutes. I could tell by his reaction that the boy would be hooked on the sea for the rest of his life.

My response to Milly and her sister, whose name was Maddie, was interesting.

Maddie was the oldest and Milly was the youngest, Lance and Mary were in between.

Maddie was Janet all over. She was beautiful and voluptuous beyond belief. She was smart, funny and as clearly sexual as Messalina herself.

Like I said, Janet.

When I found out that Maddie was also a Harvard educated lawyer THAT sealed the deal. She WAS Janet incarnate. Hopefully without the sluttiness.

Nonetheless Milly topped Maddie in all categories.

Maddie had a certain "force of nature" presence about her that made her seem seriously self-assured, almost bossy.

Milly had the same strength of character and was just as confident and forceful. But she was the baby of the family. So she came off lighthearted, clever and focused on others.

And of course there was that magnificent body. I almost couldn't look at Milly she was so heartbreakingly hot. But she was totally unselfconscious about how she looked. It was almost like she didn't realize that she was a one-in-a-million beauty.

In the case of Maddie's children, Milly was like Peter Pan with the Lost Boys. She was the fun one, where Maddie was the parent.

And Milly seemed to not think about anything except how to nurture and make each child happy. It spoke volumes about her loving spirit.

Maddie's Harvard Law Degree reminded me that I didn't know anything about Milly's background.

And make no mistake. At that point I was beginning to think about Milly in ways that were going to involve a background check.

So I said, "What do you do Milly? Are you in college? I never asked."

She said totally offhand, like she was telling me what time it was, "When we get back from vacation I am starting a residency in Neonatology at the University of Michigan Hospital."