We decided to move forward on the sailboat’s deck. Each event was getting shorter due to our increased sensitivity. By the time we got to the anchor locker, even a gentle touch was a bit too much. She had her hands on the bow rails with the jib sail as a backdrop to starboard. The big orange sunset glowed dead ahead of us, and the grey freighter to port was long gone.
I held her hips in each hand and indulged sensuously between them. There was no stopping now. I reached around and below her chest, located a nipple, and squeezed it painfully as I humped faster and faster.
Our screams of electrical ecstasy echoed across the ocean. I let myself fall back into the jib sail. Berlin clung to my naked body with her head buried in my neck. She wasn’t letting go. I felt her body experiencing waves of tremors as the aftershocks slowly faded.
We were less than a day from our channel, and our thoughts shifted to burying the evidence. The digital photos were all on the computer, and the toys were all sterilized and back in the bottom drawer. The photo from the yacht club was innocent enough. The painting was on its way to Germany, and any bruises or sore spots had healed and were being tanned.
As we got within four hours of Key West, Berlin started gathering her clothes, packing everything and putting them in her cabin. She also changed the sheets in the master cabin and added them to the laundry bag (pillowcases) containing the towels and wet swimsuits. She packed all of my things too, and she found the bowl of jewelry in the head.
“Louis, do you want me to pack your jewelry, or are you going to wear it ashore?” she asked as she admired the ring.
“Just pack it. Thanks!” I said.
She was admiring the salt pond ring in the sunlight and watching the colorful fireworks that reflected like a disco ball onto the bathroom ceiling. She slipped it on her finger. Then she turned and looked at it closely in the mirror. She felt an electrical shock as she saw her own eyes glow green. She screamed.