An Intrusion Ordeal/The Unexpected

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Amateur

Just before closing the office Thursday afternoon, I decided to give myself Friday off and have a long quiet weekend. Kay James and Hamari were visiting and doing God know what up in Boston, I just got my little intruder Amanda settled in into her new housekeeping position a week ago on my real estate and I needed some time to clear the cobwebs out of my head. It had been a profitable but hectic couple of weeks trying to juggle all of that in with my busy schedule.

“I know!” I thought to myself: “I’ll reserve a boarding skiff to run me out to The Heart of Joy after an early breakfast tomorrow and I’ll take her out where we can’t be bothered.” I mumbled and as I stepped on the elevator. In minutes I had them on my cell, I set it for five in the morning and I stopped in the lobby, picked up a tidal chart and headed out for dinner.

A storm had blown in off the gulf in the wee hours of the following morning making Sarasota Bay and the surrounding bay area uncommonly cool for this time of year. I remembered thinking that I might be just a tad underdressed as I stepped out of my Escalade on the Parking lot of Marina Jack.

I was in my new boat shoes without socks, dress shorts and light silk shirt. But I was going boating and I was certain from the current local weather reports and NOAA that the sun would be high and bright in a couple of hours and everything would warm up and if not, I had cold weather and rain gear on board and let’s face it, I’m a bit vain and I didn’t want to look overdressed for breakfast at their fine restaurant.

As I walked toward the main building, I experienced the bustling sounds of all the fisherman readying their boats to go out and do some serious game fishing. A cold front of any kind seems to stimulate a feeding frenzy in fish, but I always thought that it stimulated more of one among the fishermen.

Anyway, I walked in through the rear service door of the restaurant well before their posted “Open” time and saw one of the chefs receiving in two large mesh bags of fresh bay oysters for the lunch and dinner crowd and I told Jenny (the Assistant Manager) to tell my server to bring me a dozen with my coffee and a breakfast menu. When she brought the tray over, I saw the skiff Captain walk in and I asked him to sit and breakfast with me.

“Where are you off to this stormy morning Mr. Swiftt?” He asked: “You taking her out by yourself?”

“Yes, I just want to head out and shake her down in some open water.” I answered: “I have a few days off, but I will probably just take her straight out and come right back. My intentions are to be moored back out in the bay before dusk. Are you on all day?” I inquired.

When he told me that he was, I mentioned: “If my plans change and I decide to spend a night or two on board, I’ll call and let you know.”

Less than an hour and a half later, we’re motoring through all of the fishermen’s wakes in the cold crisp morning air and he pulled me right over to The Heart of Joy’s lowering boarding ladder platform and when I jumped out he tossed me my bags and was on his way back without even tying off.

Once on board, I did a quick perimeter check of the deck, unlocked the hatch and stowed the meat and perishable groceries that I’d brought along and I grabbed a cigar and my trusty heavy windbreaker jacket.

Back out on deck, I noticed the morning sunlight was just starting to peak through the dark predawn clouds out over the horizon and before I had all the sails uncovered, I was out of that jacket and weighing anchor. I remember how all the smaller boats way up ahead were huddled around some under water structure they found, with each fisherman trying to land a trophy, so I was careful to glide on past them trying to leave as little wake as possible.

They all just kind of stopped what they were doing and stood there in awe of her as we silently glided by, all seventy two feet of the proud, shiny and beautiful lady that she is and that always gives me a rush, for she has never failed to make me feel proud of her.

Out in more open water she was anxious to perform for me and as I gave into her need by adding more sail she took off and together we set our course due east into the wind and the spray and I clipped the end and lit my cigar.

The Heart of Joy is a lot of boat, almost too much for one man, and if it was up to the Harbor Master, too much for three. But her and I have been together since before all of those rules and the authorities just kind of turn their heads when it comes to me and my fat annual donations to the various sailor’s funds helps, I’m sure .

As we ventured further out, the sun started shining, the sky had turned a cloudless pale blue and she was cutting into the waves and kicking up her heals and I was having the time of my life. I checked up ahead: “All clear.” I announced out loud to myself and I opened the on deck liquor cabinet next to the wheel, grabbed my trusty bottle of Bookers, pulled the cork escort ankara with my teeth old Pirate style and I poured a healthy shot and enjoyed it with my cigar, my boat, the wind and the sea.

After only two plus hours out, I knew that I wouldn’t be heading back that night: “Who could leave all of this?” I thought to myself, so I contacted Marina Jack and told them to cancel the ship to shore skiff that I had booked for later that evening and when they asked when I would return, I just told them: “I will advise.” And I adjusted our heading just a touch southwest.

Just before dark at the onset of twilight that evening, I noticed up ahead what I thought to be the beginning of the everglades and I started my tour of dropping her sails. Within the hour she was firmly anchored in a small secluded deep water cove and I was in the on deck captains chair listening to Sinatra, sipping on another Bookers and contemplating what to have for dinner.

I looked around through the last light of day at all the primitive looking tropical foliage and thick undergrowth vegetation that grew right out to the very edge of the saltwater, wondering if anyone else had ever seen this cove. I was thinking that It had to have looked exactly like this for hundreds of years, unspoiled by man when all of a sudden I became annoyed.

I didn’t know why at first until I realized it was from something I had been hearing over Frank’s cool effortless singing, so I turned off the music and listened, and there it was again. A voice, an angry male voice, off in the distance, then a woman’s scream: “NO!” I turned off the deck lighting to get a better view and I saw the silhouette of a long cigarette boat slowly gliding near the mouth of the cove: “The haven’t seen me yet.” I thought.

Quietly I opened the water tight hatch and decided on the twelve gage Wheatherby over the slimmer lines of my AR-15. I guess at that time I wanted it more for intimidation purposes. I wanted to be ready, but hoping that I wouldn’t be required to use it.

For my left wing radical conservative readers, let me explain. It took me well over twenty years to restore The Heart of Joy to her pristine condition. Everything about her with exception of her electric sail hoists, stabilizing gyroscopes and her electronic security, sonar, radar and communication systems are spot on original, making her a prime target for the modern day pirate, so I keep her well armed both on and below deck.

When I made out the woman’s next screaming plea of: “PLEASE!” I lit myself in a glow of the deck party lighting and Yelled: “What is going on there!”

“Mind your own fucking business mother fucker!” One male yelled: “Or you’ll be next, ASS HOLE!” Rang out in an echo from the second one all loud and clear between our two vessels … And I racked in a shell.

You know, there’s just something about the crisp tubular steel mechanical sound of a pump shotgun when you chamber a round. It makes all the would be badasses such as these two become quiet and tame from the music of that fine weapon and when it answered on my behalf for what they had echoed across that open cove, it caused all of the present water fowl to suddenly take flight and these two tough guys cowered in succession.

I grabbed my ten inch hand held spotlight and instantly a cylinder of lightning blue/white light shot between us blinding them while illuminating their craft and I saw the two thugs standing well behind the windshield side glass with what looked to be a young woman cowering in between them.

“Look Mister, we didn’t see you there … Sorry!” The first one yelled

“Yeah, we don’t want any trouble.” The second one hollered: “Don’t shoot! … We’ll just be on our way.”

“Well, take it slow Fuckstick.” I demanded: “If I feel one ripple of wake from that thing, I’ll hunt you down with my Coastguard buddies and stomp a mud-hole in your ass!”

My adrenaline was stoked and I was feeling strong, refreshed and badass myself as their two young shirtless six packed torsos took heed to my definite final warning.

They started the engines and without another word exchanged between us, they slowly backed out and in eight to ten minutes later, I heard them from some distance away, light it up and they were gone: : Yeah! that’s right … Go on you two pussy’s, you don’t want any of this.” I childishly said aloud, but I left the Wheatherby close just in case they later grew beer muscles and decided to come back and I fired up the propane grill and turned my Sinatra CD back on.

I was below in the galley for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, maybe more, getting the corn on the cob ready to grill and seasoning my steak before I headed back up and the second my foot hit the top step of the ladder, the CD changed from Sinatra to Darin and I heard it, port side, center deck, a woman’s voice: “Please … Please help me.” so faint at first I thought that I was imagining it and when the soft music started again, it sincan escort drowned it out completely.

I cut the music and grabbed the hand held spot again and started sweeping the cove looking for the source of that sound: ” A setup!” I thought … “Be calm Peter, stand your ground.” And I reached for the shotgun with my left hand.

About third pass, fifteen or so feet from the hull was a woman’s head and neck barely above the surface and her extended arms and shoulders were submerged. Her head was tilted back and I could tell she was struggling to keep her face above water and I threw her a tethered life preserver ring and continued sweeping the area with the spot: “Nothing!” I thought and I knew from the quite solitude there was no way they could have snuck back in without me knowing it. But I also knew there was no way those two young punks had the stones to throw a woman overboard leaving her to drown like that.

She finally grabbed the flotation ring with her left hand and when her arms went in the center, I gently pulled her toward me being careful not to pull it away from her in weakened state and I hit the button lowering the platform and boarding ladder. I untied the preserver rope from the cleat and carried my end down with me as I cautiously descended the ladder.

Once I had her up against the platform, I could tell from her condition that there was no way she could be pretending or in on her part of a plot to pirate my boat, but: “You better be quick.” I thought to myself: “They could still be using her as bait.”

As I lifted her small frame out of the cold water, she seemed uncommonly heavy for her size and when I asked: “Can you stand?” She collapsed shivering in my arms. I bent down, put my right shoulder below her belt line, put that arm around the top of her thighs just under her hips and after raising up with her over my shoulder, I started up the ladder.

Her upper thighs against my right arm just under her small butt felt as cold as a frozen turkey and the second my waist was at deck level, I gently rolled her off of me and onto it being careful not to bump the back of her head. I hurried up on deck myself, pulled her out of the way and raised the platform and boarding ladder and we were secure.

I knelt next to her: “Miss … Miss, can you hear me?” I asked as I patted her cold clammy cheek and I sat her up: “Hypothermia?” I thought to myself.

As I grabbed my jacket from the wheel to throw it around her, I noticed the surface temp gauge on the auxiliary dash flashing sixty-seven, sixty-nine, sixty-seven.

I lifted her into the captains chair and stripped off her wet top and wrapped my jacket around her and I reached under it, unfastened and unzipped her wet shorts and as I was pulling them off, over her feet: “What are you doing!” Came out of her mouth.

“Are you with me young lady?” I asked and I patted her right cheek again and as she shook her head “yes.” I noticed that her lips were blue and her teeth were chattering.

“Water.” She said and I flew below opened the bar fridge to grab a bottle, slammed it shut and took a bottle of room temperature water to keep from introducing anything else cold in her slender body and I literally ran back up on deck using every other step.

“Here you go, little sips, take little sips.” I instructed and after she took a drink, it instantly came back up with some phlegm and bile: “We need to get you below and out of these wet things to get you warmed up.” I said and I turned off the grill: “Can you walk?” I asked, but as she stood, she passed out and she was back over my shoulder before I let her hit the deck.

I reached over near the wheel, toggled on the perimeter security systems, blacked out all but the security lighting and backed down the ladder carrying her like a sack of potatoes. Once below, I laid her out on my bed and pulled my jacket out from under her. Still in her wet bra and panties she put her hands between her legs and rolled on her left side to face away from me.

My shirt from the top of my shoulder, down to my belt and halfway down my shorts were wet from carrying her and I opened the side cabinet, grabbed a wool blanket off the shelf and I threw if over her. I stripped out of my wet clothes and quickly rinsed the puke smell off under a hot shower. I put on a pair of silk boxers and when I stepped back out into my stateroom she was sound asleep.

I went back up on deck and double checked that I had set all the security systems right after our earlier hasty retreat. I grabbed the tray of uncooked food to keep the morning gulls off of it and I came back below and put it away thinking: “The Hart of Joy is on watch now. She’ll keep us safe.” Then I heard her mumbling gibberish, perhaps from shock: “Damn it Swiftt!” I said under my breath: “So much for your relaxing time alone with your boat.”

When I quietly crept back into my cabin to check on her, she was breathing a rough little demetevler escort gargley snore and when I reached under the blanket to feel the outside of her upper thigh and the side of her hip, she felt as cold as ice: “Heaven forbid!” I thought: “What am I going to do and how can I explain this if she dies.” And I quickly put that thought out of my mind thinking: “I’m not going to let that happen.”

As I raised the blanket to unclasp the soaking wet bra I noticed for the first time how shapely she was: “Down Swift! … Down boy!” I told myself: “Use your head here.” I pulled it down off of her right shoulder, gently threaded her arm out of it, tossed it in front of her and went to the other side of the bed and I slowly pulled it out from under her and the blanket and while holding it in my hands I noticed that it was ice cold as well.

I Knew I made a wise choice by undressing her though it concerned me: “What else could I do? I’m a Commercial builder damn it, not a doctor!” I reasoned, but I was still the one who pulled her clothes off and I didn’t want that to come back to haunt me, but I instinctively knew if I didn’t get her body temperature up she could be dead by morning. I had to chance what I was about to do.

I reached over on the wall and turned on the heat and I went back to the other side of the bed, turned out the lights and crawled in under the cover right up next to her. I rolled on my left side, put my right arm around her smooth little belly and I pulled the back of her up against the front of me and immediately felt a chill from her cold clammy body, but she didn’t stir.

On or about three a.m. I woke with a start. I lay still, wondering if it was something that I heard that woke me. She was pressed back up against me and I could feel the bottom of her bare breasts on my forearm and the bottom of her cold feet on my shins, but she felt as if she was finally starting to warm up some.

Even though cautious from being startled awake like that, I knew The Heart of Joy’s systems would alert me if an intruder attempted to scale the hull in order to gain access to her deck and I was confident that we were safe. Then I noticed how in her sleep her bottom kind of unconsciously moved back against my loins and I realized that she was feeling comfort under the warmth of the blanket and the heat of my body: “That had to be what woke me.” I thought.

I slowly rolled on my back to let the blood flow in my tingling left arm and after what I thought to be an hour or so later, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard her ask in a low and almost demanding tough guy tone: “Where am I and where are my clothes?”

I answered: “Look, I fished you out of the ocean last night, if I hadn’t heard your cries for help you would be dead right now. How did you get into this predicament? Did those two hooligans throw you into the gulf?”

“Where … Are … My … Clothes?” She demanded a second time with the hint of a southern drawl like a hard little Florida cracker.

I had to think for a moment: “Your blouse and shorts are still up on deck and your bra is in the laundry on top of the washer.” I answered.

Without turning to face me she reached back and shoved and tucked the blanket in between us, held it tight under her chin and asked: “Who undressed me?”

I immediately took the blame: “I did. I had to get your body’s temperature up or you would have gone further into shock and died. Young lady, I don’t think you realize how serious the condition you were in actually was. You are very lucky to be alive.”

“Did you look at me all naked like this?” She defiantly asked.

“No.” I answered: “You still have your panties on!” And she huffed out a loud disgusted sigh and sat up pulling the blanket off of me while holding it down the front of her.

In the dark I could see the smooth curve of her back, the gentle sweep of her spine and that slender waist. As she stood I saw her firm smooth shapely ass cheeks barley separated by her white thong and as she attempted to take a step forward, she fell to her knees.

When I got to the other side of the bed she was up on her hands and knees trying to stand and I stooped down, held the blanket around her and helped her up: “Look, if I was going to take advantage of you, don’t you think I would have done it by now?” I reasoned and I scooped her up like a small child and laid her back on the bed draped in the blanket. I tucked in around and under her tight in order to keep her body heat in and I sat in the corner chair and covered with my robe.

Only a few minutes later she said: “Cold … So cold … I’m Freezing.”

I said: “That’s the after effects of shock and the hypothermia you were suffering.” (Hell, I didn’t know) “Your body temperature is well improved. Do you need me to lay with you again, just for warmth?” And I waited for a response, but from her breathing I could tell that she falling asleep, so I put my head back and dosed off in the chair.

At morning’s first light, she was starting to stir and I quickly got up and dressed when: “Ahoy!… Ahoy on The Heart of Joy!” Came from what sounded to be a bullhorn right outside the porthole … And she sat strait up.

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