The Meeting
This Pirate had to loosen his buckle a little to make room for the expanding good french wine waistline; his swagger was a little slower in Nike tennis shoes and his hair was still thick but definitely sterling silver. He had weathered one divorce and decided his mistress was truly his boat...all 40 feet of her. He was new to plotting his life by the stars and was always looking for experienced sailors and a saucy wench or two to keep the deck lively. He had charted a new dream girl to pursue: a little wispy blond girl that could sail, cook and voraciously read science fiction.
The colorful flags were hoisted to announce the upcoming sailing regatta and the Pirate knew he needed a crew to race. The day dawned sunny, cloudless and calm as the crew walked out to the sail boat with igloo's stuffed with cool drinks, imported cheeses, Swiss chocolate and a few crusty baguette's. Voices were laced with laughter, excitement and anticipation of the upcoming race. A new sailor was among the group. She had been recruited by a friend of a friend and practically had barnacles growing on the bottom of her feet. Raised on the East coast near water, she had been sailing since she was barely tall enough to fit over the side of the boat. She would race her brothers to the boat every day to gain control of the wheel, kicking and pushing as they went.
It was no different today. Her eye was on the main wheel, putting her back to the harbor and let the sun and wind dance on her face. She was a tall dark brunette with moss green eyes, a rapier mind and wit and nothing like the dream girl. She didn't care about the other sailors or the Pirate and only wanted to stay on the water...forever.
The Pirate glanced at the new sailor, saw experienced hands and breathed with excitement that he just might win this race. A slight ripple crossed his face when she took the wheel and in his mind he thought,
"Why, the sassy wench!"
More to come....
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