Tide's Ebb (8 page)

She was strung tight like a bowstring. Alan’s arrow flew inside her one more time, hit the target, and she quivered. She would have screamed, but all she could manage was a gentle peep. Alan shuddered, emptying a river of balmy man juice into her moistened love canal.

With Alan still supporting her, they slid down the wall slowly and collapsed on the carpeted floor. Marianna had never liked the carpet, but now it felt like the softest bed at the Four Seasons. Alan’s wiry arms embraced her tightly.

When Marianna awoke, it was dark, Alan’s arms still wrapped around her like baking wire.

“What time is it?”

The backlit screen of a Blackberry opened the darkness.

It was 9:30—too late to go to Tallula. But Marianna felt a low rumble in her stomach. Love-making was hungry work.  “Let’s go to the Captain’s Corner instead.”

Alan kissed her lightly on the cheek. “All right, but only if you promise that these clothes are coming right back off when we come home!”

The Captain’s Corner was a divey little diner not far from the docks. Marianna and Alan settled into a booth. Marianna had felt completely at ease. But sitting in the booth brought back memories of the last time she and Alan had gone to a restaurant together.  She felt her face flush—the strong man that had just brought her such pleasure and comfort had also struggled to understand when intimate touches were appropriate. Had he learned anything about life since Dorsia? Did he now understand that there were some places that were inappropriate for cunnilingus?

Screech scooted towards her on the vinyl booth, his tiny tush scraping across the squeaky synthetic plastic. Marianna instinctively crossed her legs tight and put her hands in her lap. But Screech didn’t disappear under the table this time. Instead, he simply put his arm around Marianna.

She relaxed. He wasn’t the man she had always longed for, but perhaps he was the man that she had always needed.

Screech leaned over and whispered, “Who’s
that
man?”

Marianna looked around. There were many patrons in the Captain’s Cove, but she could have picked those piercing blue eyes out of a line-up of Ukrainian models, largely because the Ukrainian models wouldn’t have had beards:
Larry
. His steel blue eyes were fixed on Marianna. Her eyes matched his gaze, and she thought she could detect a tremble in his hands. She felt an intense urge to go over there and give him a piece of her mind. He was so ungrateful! And crass! “
Thank-you fellaciato
”? Disgusting. How glad she was that Alan was with her.

And yet… when she tore her eyes away from Larry’s stare and peered at the slender man sitting next to her, she felt… unfulfilled. She pushed the thought out of her mind.  

Larry got up. He was walking towards them. Hopefully, he would say nothing untoward. Suddenly, she was gasping for air.

“Ma’am, good to see you well.” Larry lowered his head in a miniature bow. “And sir,” he turned towards Screech, “my name is Larry.”

Screech stood up in jerky motion. “Hey there, big fella! Nice to meet you! I’m Screech… I mean… Alan. How do you two know each other?”

Marianna blurted out a white lie “Oh, he works on boats and sometimes acts as a… delivery boy.”

“As the lady says.” Larry paused, and his eyes narrowed. “In any event, the big regatta is coming up next week. I’ll be captaining one of the yachts. You two lovebirds should come out.”

Screech nodded his head far too quickly. “Awesome! Yeah! I can take the train out next weekend too!”

Larry nodded and walked away.

That was weird.
But Marianna was glad it hadn’t gotten too awkward. She hadn’t planned on telling Screech about the wet, naked man who had rescued her from certain death in the billowy depths of the ocean.

When Marianna and Screech got home, they shed their clothes again, just as Screech had promised. They made love once more, tenderly, without urgency. Marianna enjoyed the act—the rhythm as old as time, or at least as old as when amoebas stopped being unisexual. But after Screech had finished and rolled off to a side, she lay alone, eyes wide open, unable to sleep.

*
         
*
         
*

In a small Cape Cod bungalow miles away, Larry too lay awake, alone with his thoughts.
She’s not who I thought she was. You’ve been fooled again, you silly old sea dog.

It would be hours before he would sleep, scarce hours of comfort before he rose again to face the sea at dawn.

Marianna didn’t know when she had drifted off to sleep, but when she awoke, the sun was shining. The air was sweetened by the faint smell of bacon. With some effort, she coerced herself out of bed and padded towards the kitchen.

Screech was standing over the stove, making bacon and eggs, his hands moving enthusiastically to scramble the eggs. The domestic scene was comforting.

“Well, good morning sunshine! Up and at ‘em! We should do a ton of things today! Let’s go see some of these Newport mansions. When we get to the sea wall, I’m going to have a surprise for you!”

Marianna was too groggy to respond, but she was intrigued about the surprise. She shuffled towards the stove and embraced him, his throbbing manhood returning her hug with considerable affection. She could banish her misgivings and get used to this kind of life, with a man that cared for her, enough to cook a meat like bacon, which required both skill and attention.
Perhaps this man is father material?

Everything felt like spring—it was a gorgeous day, and Marianna felt a little naughty when she slipped on a pair of black lace La Perla panties underneath a thin, billowy sundress.

They walked along the mansions of Newport. Although Marianna asserted that Newport lacked most basic trappings of civilization, even she had to admit that the mansions were extraordinary. Screech explained that they were built by great men who celebrated modern America by building 16th century Italian palazzos, long before Italians ruined the Jersey Shore. Newporters called the mansions "cottages" because they were smaller than Versailles. Screech explained that most of the mansions were built in the 19th century, before FDR had started the Great Depression by confiscating money from the rich and giving it to the slothful working class. After the start of Social Security, no one could afford to build such mansions anymore.  Instead, these great men were driven from Newport and frog-marched into tiny apartments in New York with putting greens on the roof instead of actual golf courses in the backyards like they had in Newport. Some of the old timers still talked about the Long March.

The most beautiful house of all was the Breakers, built by one Cornelius Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt had made his fortune in Cleveland steamships before losing everything when Cleveland Steamers became associated with an unspeakable sex act, attracting a very different clientele to Vanderbilt’s vessels. Marianna was impressed by the imposing, palace-like structure built of gray stone, whose construction cost more than $300 million inflation-adjusted dollars. When Marianna heard that figure, she felt a little wet and instinctively grabbed Alan’s arm.

Leaving the Breakers, they walked along the sea wall. There was no one else out, strange for a gorgeous Saturday. The path was somewhat rough and winding, along an ancient stone wall facing the sea. From the path to the sea, there was a twenty-foot drop to where the Atlantic smashed against the rocks. The view was amazing, and Marianna was happy to share it with such a kind man.

“So… I told you I’d have a surprise for you when we got to the seawall.”

Marianna squeaked with anticipation as if she were Suzanne about to take a brand-new Rabbit for a test drive.

“But you have to turn around, close your eyes, and face the sea.”

She did as he asked.
I trust this man completely.
With her eyes closed, she could hear the waves. The air was crisp—fresh—so she inhaled deeply, feeling her chest expand, her nipples pushing hard against her sundress.

When she exhaled, it felt like the purest breath she had ever breathed. And…

She felt something on the back of her perfectly-formed, alabaster-skinned thighs.

What is that?

Screech had gotten down on the ground behind her, lifted up her dress and was now licking the back of her thighs.

No, not again!

She heard a muffled voice from underneath “SURPRISE!”

“Screech! Stop that!”

“But you love it!”

She confessed silently that she did indeed enjoy being licked. But even as her body craved more, her brain screamed, “No Screech!
Not here! Not now!
”

At precisely this moment, Marianna saw an elderly couple walking towards them from a bend in the path. Their view was screened by the rock wall, but in just another moment, they would round the corner and see Screech underneath her dress like a perverted pantomime horse.

“Screech! There are people coming!”

“Haha! Yes, and I’m going to make sure that one of those people is
you!
”