One for the Gods (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (39 page)

By mid-morning, the sea was rolling down on them again, knocking them over and slowing their progress.

Jack came up frowning as if the weather were a problem he was trying to solve. He zig-zagged aft and sat beside Charlie.

“The chart shows a cove at the tip of Delos,” he said. “It looks beautifully sheltered.”

“But Mykonos is right there in front of us. We can make it in a few more hours.”

“A few more hours of this? Martha’s had a hellish time. She’s being a very good sport about it.”

“Is there a hotel at Delos?”

“I thought you didn’t want hotels to become an obsession.”

Charlie shrugged. “You’re right. This is a goddamn bore.” He released the sheets resignedly and leaned on the wheel and headed in the direction Jack indicated. They roller-coastered down toward Delos.

The cove was lovely and deserted and as sheltered as Jack had hoped. The sea rolled past its entrance, but immediately within it the water was as smooth as glass. The anchor chain rattled and the paralysis of peace descended again. When they had the sails down, they all sat around drinking cold beer. The Kingsleys had providentially brought on more ice at Siros. Peter was excited about Delos being the birthplace of Apollo and he and Jack discussed walking over to visit the site. Charlie found his thoughts drifting and his eyes dropping shut. He pulled himself up with an effort.

“If we’re going on an expedition, I’d better have a snooze before lunch. It’s been over thirty hours.” He went below and threw himself on his bunk without taking his clothes off.

He awoke feeling drugged. He heard dishes clattering in the galley as he tried to rouse himself. He struggled out of the bunk and went to the door. Martha was putting things away in cupboards. She smiled at him—absently? nervously? He was still too dazed with sleep to take much account of her mood.

“Well, you’re human after all,” she said. “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

“I feel as if I’d been knocked out.”

“You’d better have some coffee. We’ve had lunch without you. We all agreed you needed the rest.” She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. He took it and started for the companionway. She made a little move to arrest him. “Jack and Peter have gone ashore.”

Slowly, it got through to him: alone at last. He took a long swallow of the hot coffee and his head began to clear. “That so? Gone to see the sights?” he asked, feeling his way cautiously as he aroused himself to focus all his sensibilities on her.

“If there’s a hotel, they may be locked in a room by now, for all I know.” She spoke deliberately, as if she had rehearsed the words.

It was so uncharacteristic of her that he was touched by it. He could see now that she was in a tangle of nerves. “Ah. Sex rears its tousled little head. Do you really think that’s a possibility?”

“I don’t know.” She looked momentarily confused, as if she had expected some other reaction. “I mean—Jack’s straight, of course, but he’s crazy about Peter. If that’s the way it works out, he’d probably go along.”

“I see. Peter’s queer. Queers are mad for anything in pants. I know that’s what Jack thinks.”

“He’s an attractive man.”

“Is he? I doubt it. Not in that way.”

“What about you? Are you as queer as everybody says?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Now come on, sweetie. Relax. Is that any way to talk to a friend? This isn’t you at all. Maybe we’d better start all over again. If you want to know if I’m queer, just ask.” He was fully awake now. He looked into her eyes and saw all her defenses collapse, her plan of attack, if that was what it was, crumble. All that was left was the undemanding, little-girl adoration he knew so well. Their moment had come at last. He was moved by her and welcomed it, feeling desire respond to desire.

“Are you?” she asked in a small voice.

“I thought I’d made it pretty obvious that I’m in love with Peter.”

“Oh, I understand that. I love to see you together. You’re so sweet to each other. But the other. I mean—do you—”

He finished his coffee and put the cup down on the counter. He leaned against the door. “People who are in love with each other usually have sex together, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said kindly. He watched as she reached behind her and unfastened the bikini top and dropped it.

“Then that doesn’t mean anything to you?” she asked, still worshiping him with her eyes.

It meant a great deal to him. He put his hands in his pockets and shifted his sex so that it would be less cramped. He knew her body well, but the full, firm curve of her breasts was more exciting naked than he had expected. She hadn’t the vanity to pose in any way, or “present” them. She simply stood and offered herself to his gaze. He was glad he had told her to get some sun on them. The mark of the bikini was still there, but not pronounced enough to mar the line. Her nipples were not big, which pleased him. They gave a lift to the heavy rounded forms. His hands wanted to feel the tender flesh. He looked into her eyes again. “Lovely, I’ve often wanted to draw them. But are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t mind Peter knowing, but I don’t particularly want him to catch us in the act. What about Jack?”

“You mean you want me?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“What did you expect? Why did you take that thing off? Oh, I see. You mean because I’m queer? There
is
that.”

“You’re not. I’ve never believed it.”

He smiled. “Sweetie, if I’m not queer, we can drop the word from the language.” It excited him further to speak frankly to her. “I guess the question should be, do you want me, now that I’ve told you?”

“What difference does it make, if you want me?”

“Probably a lot. We can talk about that later. You still haven’t told me about Jack.”

“They just left about fifteen minutes ago, so we don’t have to worry.” She unfastened her shorts and let them fall. “I wouldn’t care if he found me like this.”

His eyes roamed over her nakedness. It touched him deeply. Her body seemed to yearn toward him. Her pubic hair was blonde and didn’t distract from the lovely flow of hip and thigh. The curve of her belly balanced the twin curves of her breasts. She was voluptuously, luxuriously a woman. “The female form divine,” he said almost to himself, “It
is
divine.” He was so absorbed by her that he forgot for a moment that he was involved now personally. Then the inappropriateness of his clothing struck him. He was bursting to match her womanliness with his manhood. “It takes two to play this game,” he said with a little laugh. He peeled off his tight jersey and tossed it behind him into the saloon. He unbuttoned his jeans and his sex sprang up into full erection as it was freed. He lifted his bare feet and stepped out of jeans and undershorts and straightened before her. “Adam and Eve,” he said, feeling as if they were made to be naked together.

Her lips had parted. Her eyes were wide on him. “Oh, no,” she murmured.

“It is a bit much. You must’ve known what to expect by now.”

“I’ve looked, of course. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know a man could be so magnificent.”

“You’re gorgeous. Is that all we’re going to do—just look?”

She approached him slowly, her eyes on his sex. It moved slightly, straining upward as if to meet her. Her knees were weak with the longing that had been born in her as she had come to know his body. Only in the last few weeks had she become aware of the extent to which she had been impoverished by her brother, and his adolescent violation of her. Charlie had instilled in her for the first time a desire, an obsessive craving to be entered by a man. Gazing day after day at the massive instrument gathered between his legs, watching its size and shape alter when he lay in the sun or emerged from the sea, stealing breathless glimpses of the great column lifting the sheet when he slept, she had felt increasingly a terrible emptiness in her, an aching sickness of emptiness that only he could fill.

She had been only nine when her fourteen-year-old brother had first taken her; for the next year, he had brought his friends to her and allowed them to use her. She had grown up thinking of boys as tiresomely similar and of the sexual act as an awkward and sometimes painful prodding of her body. When she had married Jack and he had introduced her to the pleasures they could find with their mouths, she had felt as if she had discovered the source of physical love.

Charlie had been a revelation. She had fallen in love with her eyes but he had quickly fixed himself in the center of her emotions. He was a god, with a god’s beauty and strength and understanding. Only he would have had the kindness to help her through her rude and blundering opening about Jack and Peter. She had thought she would have to goad him into responding to her, but he had seemed to anticipate every move she had made and now his godlike sex rose before her in overwhelming evidence of his desire.

She couldn’t take her eyes off it, though it thrilled her so deeply that her vision seemed blurred. It gave an impression of great weight so that its upward curve, springing out from its thick base, was implicit with devastating power.

He reached out for her, but she dropped down in front of him and felt the heat of his sex on her lips and tongue. It tasted salty and she filled her mouth with it. She moaned and her head swam as she realized that his body was at last hers. She heard him gasp and his hips swayed as she ran her tongue back to its base and took his tightly gathered testicles in her mouth. She drew back and gazed at the soaring head, shining and ripe, and stretched her jaws to clamp her teeth gently on the rigid, heavily-veined flesh. Her head reeled again when she thought of having it inside her. She didn’t care how much it might hurt her; it would fill her tormenting emptiness.

“You’d better come back up here unless this is the way you want me,” he said after a moment. He was amazed at what she was doing and at the skill she displayed. He had always thought of her lying back and receiving him, ample and placid and female. He held her shoulders as she rose, her hand on his sex, and pulled her closer. He looked into her ecstatic eyes and smiled. “This is pretty marvelous, isn’t it?”

“You’re so beautiful. I adore you. There’s so much of you to adore.”

He chuckled. “It’s a question of proper care and feeding. You do amazing things with your mouth.” He shaped her breasts with his hands and took her mouth in his. He held her breasts and swayed her body lightly against his so that their nipples caressed each other. Their kiss grew deeper. He drew back and took a long breath. “Everything we do seems to make me want to come. I’m sort of planning to have you. Any preparations? Are you wearing something?”

“No. Don’t think about that.” She still held his sex as they went into the saloon and stretched out on the bunk he’d just vacated. When he lifted himself over her, she put her hands on his shoulders and urged him downward in his turn.

“No. Not that,” he said.

“Oh, no. Of course not. I’m sorry, my precious.”

He laughed softly. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. I’ve never really wanted to, that’s all. I don’t particularly like to suck cock either. I guess I’m not very oral.”

She ran her hands from his shoulders down to his sex. “Come into me. That’s all I want. I’ve dreamed of it for so long.”

“You know what you’re doing? It’s a bit risky.”

“Oh, yes. Please. Nothing else matters.” She spread her legs and lifted her hips to him and held his sex while he inserted it and moved slowly into her. He smiled down at her, watching her body writhe and lift to take him. She was moaning and making little sobbing sounds as she savored every inch of him. He held back to prolong her pleasure, proud of her response. She flung her legs around his hips and grappled him to her. He allowed himself to complete his entry with a lunge.

“Oh, God! You,” she cried. Her eyes were wide and staring. “I’ve never felt such bliss. You’ve taken me. My precious lover. You’re mine. I can’t believe it.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Like an invading army.” She laughed and choked. “I can’t wait for the looting and raping to begin.” He drew back slowly and drove hard into her. She uttered a cry that was nearly a scream. “You’re so far inside me,” she gasped. “Nobody’s ever been there before. You’re going to give me a baby. I know it.”

“You want that?” he asked as a thrill ran through him. The exultation in her voice was contagious. Stray thoughts that had been drifting through his head for the last few weeks seemed to take form and fit together. Suddenly, it all made sense. He knew now the part she was destined to play. Joy was racing through his body and deep into hers.

“I want it, my precious. Now that you’re here I know that’s what I’ve been dreaming of.”

“How marvelous.” He opened his mouth on her breast and played with her hard nipple with his tongue. Her body leaped under him. He remained propped up on his knees and elbows so that she could lift and lower herself on him, drawing him all the way into her, swiveling her hips and moving him around inside her. She was moaning again and making her sobbing sounds. He had never performed the act with procreation as an end; his wife hadn’t wanted children. All his awareness seemed to be concentrated in his sex, as if all of him were inside her, mighty with life. He existed only to plant himself in her. “Are we doing it the way you like it?” he asked with his mouth against a breast. “I want you to come. Then I’ll make you a baby.”