Sunday, November 27

One More Week

It turns out Franklin has a really crap sense of humor.
He had to corner her in the mess hall and threaten her with a hot kettle before she could stay in one place long enough to listen to him.
“So we didn’t have sex,” Portia said.
“Yes.”
“But I was naked. You were naked.” It wasn’t adding up.
“You were also very drunk. I was trying to get you back to your cabin before you got sick everywhere or passed out but you suddenly thought it was hilarious to take off all your clothes.”
“I suddenly thought it was funny to stripe naked in the corridor,” Portia repeated.
“Yeah, Brick was really keen on helping escort you back to your cabin.”
“Brick saw me naked?”
“Partial nudity at most.”
“And how did I end up in your cabin?”
“Mine was closer.”
“But I was already naked.”
“Mostly naked. And most of the crew hadn’t seen you, so I thought to spare you that.”
“And you being naked?”
“I always sleep naked.” He probably did, too.
“Then why didn’t you tell me all this in the morning, instead of letting me storm out of there like an idiot.”
Franklin frowned. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry. You were so busy banging into doors, I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”
“You had plenty of opportunities, mister, you just like to torture me.”
“It was a little funny.” Franklin had that look on his face, a little tug at the corners of his mouth, which implied he thought he could sweet talk his way out of this.
Portia grew cold. She poured the hot water into her mug and calmly added sugar to the tea. “It was not funny,” she said. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are.”
“Friends do not let their friends march down a corridor naked because they find it particularly hilarious.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?” Franklin asked.
Portia looked in his eyes. They seemed so amiable, cheerful. “Just stay out of my way,” she said.
Portia stormed into the corridor and collided with Turkish. Hot tea splashed on both of them.
“I’m so sorry,” Portia started. She tried to dab at the mess with the sleeve of her shirt.
“No worries. Did that creep apologize?”
“If that’s what you call it. Claims it was all my fault and he was just trying to spare me further humiliation.”
“Quite a silver tongued devil, that one is. And how are you?”
“Angry. Pissed off. And I need a new shirt.”
“Let’s get you a new shirt.”
Turkish took her elbow and pulled her down the corridor towards her cabin. “You know, you really can’t handle your liquor.”
“Planet side I’m not such a cheep drunk.”
Turkish grinned at her. “I don’t believe that at all.”
They arrived at her cabin. Portia stood in the door, Turkish in the hall.
“I’ll be seeing you, then,” he said.
“Why’d you kiss me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Last night, like that.”
“I wanted to, I thought you wanted to, also.”
“I liked it.”
“Good, so did I.”
Portia grabbed Turkish’s shirt and pulled him close to her. “And I want to do this,” she said, kissing him.
His arms were suddenly around her, kissing her back passionately. Portia had the oddest sensation of being lifted off her feet.
“And I want to do this,” he said, pushing her down onto the bed. His body pinned down and she liked the weight of him against her.
“Do you know what else I want to do?” Portia asked, between kisses.
“I can guess.”
“Good, because I am not drawing you a treasure map.”


“Does this boat have room service?” Portia asked, admiring the view of Turkish sitting on the edge of the bed.
“When you’re the captain, I suppose so. Do you want room service?”
“Not really, I just don’t want to leave bed for a while.”
Turkish turned towards her. “Neither do I but…”
“The duties and responsibilities that come with the privilege of being captain.”
“Something like that.”
“You’re not going to brag, are you?”
“About what?”
“You know, getting some.”
“I most certainly am. You are a luscious pearl to be prized above all others.”
He kissed her thoroughly and soundly before leaving.
“I’m a pearl,” Portia whispered to herself.


Portia and Turkish found lots of reasons not to leave the bed.
“I like being a pirate wench,” Portia said, stretching out on her side.
“You’re not a wench,” Turkish said. “You’re a pirate’s woman.”
“Yo ho ho.”
“No self respecting pirate talks like that.”

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