Chapter 1

I must tell every detail to someone. It is not that I wish to clear my conscience which perhaps has been battered into submission forever, but I must explain how the last three years have changed me.

Three long years of a veritable odyssey into the unknown, a world between two worlds, a world in which no code curtailed our natural life. Ah, how can I gaze upon this innocuous photo before me!

It is a harmless, simple picture of myself taken shortly after I had finished my university studies. If you look at it close enough, you will no doubts notice that the young lad, as I then was, looks extremely youthful and even timid. It would be impossible to believe that this tender fellow ever left his mother's side or, for that matter, ever could. But glance much closer. Don't you detect something in the corner of his eyes, a longing perhaps, a wish to taste the excitement of life? Go down to the thin, pale lips. Wouldn't you say that he wishes to rub his tongue ever so lightly over them as though he was thirsty for some exotic brew? Oh, it may all be too subjective. I thought I knew this boy once, but now I am not so sure of it.

If I wheel around in my chair and look at the image I project in the mirror, I will never be able to believe that the boy existed. What will I see? Puffed, haggard eyes, a drooping mouth with a cigarette dangling from the ironic corner emitting smoke as turbulent and wild as my tousled hair. No, I don't have to turn to look. I know what will be there. It is tightly ridged in my facial muscles; the fixed, set face of experience.

Please don't get the impression that I am merely playing the part of an abused soul. On the contrary, I am well aware of what has happened. At no time did I abandon my lucidity or my sense of humor. If I had, I could never relate my metamorphosis to you and perhaps would remain a crushed individual, tormented and haunted for the rest of my "unnatural" days.

It all began soon after receiving my diploma in fine arts (I had wished to be a painter), when I was browsing through the Sunday newspaper vaguely searching for the unusual in the way of a job. It would be best to admit here and now that any job would be unusual for me since I had never worked and had always been protected by my parents. My eyes shifted from one ad to another and suddenly I spotted something to my liking. The ad at the foot of the

page, rather discreetly placed, read as follows:

Pleasure Cruise, seeking cabin boy 18-22,

personable, good-looking, strong, capable,

adventurous. Apply with references to Mrs.

Rugt. Pier 14. Telephone WE. 010 37.

Once again I scanned the ad and then put the paper down. Hadn't I always wanted to taste the sea air and feel the movement of a sturdy bark headed toward foreign lands? I was just under 22 and no different than anyone else. Wanderlust beckoned and the conjuring up of exotic images of sea life provoked me into picking up the receiver of the telephone. I procured an appointment for the following day. That night the dinner shared with my parents was more delicious than ever. Particularly with the realization that I was over 21 and nothing could stand in my way.

The next morning I headed for Pier 14. I put on some blue denims and white polo shirt and even wore my only pair of canvas and crepe shoes. I found myself sea-worthy without too much exaggeration. I was equipped only with my youth, good will and lust for adventure and hoped these would be suitable enough qualities for a conscientious cabin boy.

A man in a dark chauffeur's uniform conducted me to Mrs. Rugt's temporary office at the pier. I shook the lady's hand quite self-consciously and sat down at the desk opposite my interviewer. When the initial shock of the encounter passed away, I was able to look more intently at the woman who I would try to convince should employ me. As I recall, I had planned on what I would say and demonstrate that I was personable and capable by simulating an air of amiability contrasting with streaks of levelheadedness and work-like notions.

When I saw Mrs. Rugt, my plans shriveled up like burnt paper. This woman was miraculously lovely and stupifyingly mysterious. She had a full head of reddish-brown hair that was gorgeous. Her eyes were emerald-green and deep. So deep and profound, that I seemed to be plunging toward the very tiny points in their middle. Her features were so finely modeled that they seemed to have been carved out of wax. When her face was placid and set, she appeared so icy cold that they very room we were in seemed to suffer from too much draft. When she smiled, the fine lines around her lovely eyes crinkled and her superb mouth, which I even dared call voluptuous (to myself of course), opened like an ivory cave surrounded by rose petals.

If I had not been so stubborn and incapable of expressing myself, I would have then recognized that I was in front of one of the loveliest creatures I could ever hope to see anywhere at any time. Mrs. Rugt was a statuesque, white-skinned goddess and if I had not realized it then, I certainly did later on.

When she raised herself from her desk chair, it would be better to say glided from her place for she was as graceful as a panther, her supple body vibrated with the curvaceous force of a completely feminine woman. Everything was muscular, round and long about that woman. When I think of that blond I have seen so often in films. The one who is billed as a bombshell or the devil knows what. If she were to measure up with Mrs. Rugt...? My sardonic smile indicates she would never stand up to this enticing woman who plans a pleasure cruise.

Why deny it? I reddened, shifted from one buttock to another, floundered like a gasping fish out of water. Futile thoughts ran through my head, or for all that, no thoughts at all, just complete blanks. Vaguely, I sensed that I wanted this woman more than anything else. She was before me, flesh and blood and it was incredible that I should meet such a creature.

I tried to recuperate from this unprecedented bewilderment. I cleared my throat and attempted to speak normally. All basic thoughts and desires had to be abandoned for the practical order of the day and that was - the job.

First of all she asked my age with a slight smile. Then she asked how much experience I had. And I sheepishly lowered my head and murmured "None." She reassured me with what appeared to be a smile that experience could always be "acquired."

When she spoke, her intonations were suggestive and her voice had a deep-honey quality. Each word that was launched glided to me on the scent of a subtle perfume that seemed to come from her more sensual pores.

Mrs. Rugt must have been about 35. To tell the truth, I don't believe she had an age. It was evident that she wasn't 18 however. No girl of eighteen or twenty could have such mature development. Her vitality was closer to thirty years of age. Her wisdom and experience gave her 45 years and her beauty so finely preserved under constant care would allow her to pass for twenty-eight or thirty. Madame Rugt was bursting with health and I might add in the right places.

"Perhaps before anything else, you would like to see our yacht?" she suggested.

I followed her up the ramp leading to the white gleaming cruiser. Her wonderful rear end shifted from side to side like the delightful roll of a ship in somber weather. When she stepped down from the ramp, I was able to glimpse, ever so casually of course, at the browned thigh which seemed so firm and carved out of marble.

"First I would like to show you the navigation bridge." (Her wish was my command.)

We climbed to the navigation bridge and once again the rounded curves of the bottom of her luscious, forgive me, ass, left my body dry and steaming. I wanted to grab those strong swaying hips and bury my face in that superb buttock region, dress and all. Exactly what held me back? Ask any lad of like age, he'll tell you. Timidity and fear of the consequences, the two cripplers of youngsters who crave sexual relief. Alas, the saying is too true, youth is unfortunately wasted on the young. I know this too well.

We entered the navigation bridge and Mrs. Rugt stretched her hand on one of the pins of the navigation wheel.

"This is the helm," she said as she squeezed the king-pin and my penis bounced up and gave a throb. No doubt it was standing upright from the time we boarded the luxury craft.

We walked into a room decorated with maps and Mrs. Rugt informed me about this special room.

"This is the navigation room. This is where the course is plotted." And her long fingers pointed to several maps on the wall. I did not know what country we were in, but the fingernails were scarlet and those long fingers were supple and sensual.

"I hope you don't find this room too warm," she said. "The cabin below, particularly the sleeping cabins, can become extremely warm during certain cruising periods."

She sensed the heat rising in my body. She was not only gorgeous, but intelligent and capable of telling how people felt. Of course, she must have known what men felt like in her presence. She could play with them like a cat with a mouse. And there really was something quite cat-like in this woman with her exquisitely formed green eyes and her panther-like grace.

Spare me from thinking so much about her. I fell in love right there. I would do anything for that woman. It was more important than ever before that I have the position of cabin boy on that yacht. I would even plead for it if I had to. Being near this woman was my foremost cherished desire.

"You know," she began, "I'm a bit afraid that you're really lacking a certain experience. You might get seasick and forget your duties. I must be brutally frank for the work requires skill and above all, devotion to everyone aboard."

She told me all this while applying her lipstick to that adorably sensual slash of a mouth.

I came to my fore and in all likelihood miserably jabbered out my defense.

"Oh, I'm used to hard work. I've done it all my life." I lied. "You can feel my muscles - hard as a rock. As for getting seasick, it just couldn't happen to me for I wouldn't let it. It's all in the mind, you know."

I kept plugging away pleading for the job.

"As for my devotion to other people, you won't find anyone any more faithful than I, especially for people I like."

Then my throat clogged up and I must have turned purple with the thought of what I was going to say.

"Already, I feel that I could like you very much."

She put down her cosmetics and began to laugh. Her laughter was like the flow of rich wine.

"Yes you like me very much, but what could you do for me? Do you think that you could be devoted to me entirely and even humble yourself before me?" Then she teased me. "I don't think you would really. I have the impression that you have been too pampered and that you never could give yourself to anyone."

I immediately refuted her assumption which had some basis however.

"I know I can be devoted and certainly with someone I like and respect."

"And you feel that you like and even respect me."

"Oh yes," I fidgeted, entranced by her penetrating look.

"Come with me and we shall see what you are made of."

We went toward the forecastle of the ship and then descended into the hull. Below deck, the opulent woman opened a cabin door and bade me enter. I walked into a spacious stateroom ornamented with various items I had never seen except in pirate films. The stateroom had a peculiar atmosphere. It was the type of a cabin one might see in the days of the authentic buccaneers. There were ropes and nets and swords and dozens of other objects that were new to me. I would not have been surprised to see a swashbuckling brigand with his head scarfed and a patch over his eye appear from the partitioned back room.

"Do you like it?" my hostess asked.

I told her that I did very much and she offered me a cigarette. Although I had never smoked until then, I took the cigarette in order to show my maturity.

"This cabin is mine and my husband's."

On hearing this news I saddened and my eyes tried to pick a spot on the floor.

"He is not here now. He is preparing for the pleasure cruise and is busy with last minute arrangements. You would like him too, he is very charming."

She must have read my thoughts, for she was ever so slightly teasing me.

"Oh don't be jealous, he is very understanding and has a marvelous mind. You'll see," she tried to reassure me. But I tried to imagine myself in his shoes. What a lucky man to be with her day in and day out. If I were he, I would be insanely jealous.

She changed her tone and slowed the rhythm of her voice which now projected a serious note.

"Now I should like to see how 'devoted' you can be."

She sat down next to me on the sturdy bunk-type bed. Her long fingers ran through my hair sending chills all over my trembling skin.

"I like your hair, it's so fleecy and golden. You have such a clean look about you. Your skin is fresh and young and your eyes hold a constant reflection of innocence. You know this is quite appealing to a woman like myself."

I tried to snatch a few bashful glances at this tigress who was belittling me and at the same time was fondling me with her magic touch.

"Do you like my legs?" she indicated a pair of superbly-formed legs that swung out from under her lifted skirt.

"Very much," I said trying to use my normal voice, which rose leathery and choked.

"Could you please me as I wished? Would my very wish be your command?" Her deep pools of green hypnotized me as well as her exciting presence.

I nodded, trying to capture a feverish kiss. But she backed away falling back on the bunk with her finely shaped legs almost waving in the air.

"I want you to lick the seams of my stockings. And when you come up to the thigh, I want you to lick around the rim with half of your tongue touching the stocking and I will allow the other half to touch my skin. If you become overly excited I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave the ship. Of course, if you feel that this sort of devotion is not in your capacity then I'll just have to look for someone else."

There it was for me to decide in a split second or two. Those legs covered with a dark shade of silk-nylon hose leading to two luscious thighs made my temples throb with desire.

She was still wearing her high-heeled glossy shoes which gave her ankles a slender curve and lengthened her shapely calves. Madame Rugt had the finest pair of legs I had ever seen. If there was one thing I'm an expert at, it's women's legs. I was born to look at them longingly. Whether from the tops of buses gazing down into automobiles or from the foot of ladders staring up their skirts, I never allowed myself to relax from this interesting sport.

Reason is completely outmoded when it comes to passion. I did not have to think twice. Although if I had guessed what was in store for me, I might have reconsidered several times over my hasty decision.

I lowered my head and my long hot tongue tipped the seam of her stocking at the ankle. I licked over the curve of her calf until I came to the bend at the knee, where I planted a loving kiss. I heard her exclaim her satisfaction as she patted me on the head. As my tongue ventured up her firm thighs I felt my dick pushing at the zipper of my pants. Although I was trying to conceal how I felt, my breathing was vigorous and my face burning with heat. But I didn't dare disobey her and I only allowed my hands to wander up the other leg.

When I reached the top hem of her stocking, she freed her leg permitting me to lap very inch around the heftiest part of her limb. Half my tongue was on the silk hose and the luckier half was on her creamy skin which seemed as fresh and cool as newly churned butter. I sensed a multitude of odors. And as I rimmed around the inner thigh, I used all my force to keep from burying my face and tongue in her dark pussy which was secreting a faint animal odor which was personally the most cherished and exciting scent that had ever come into my life.

Just as I was starting down from the seam she produced a noiseless fart which pervaded my nostrils. To this day I don't know whether she was testing my prudishness or was simply suffering from a minor discomfort.

The other leg was equally as delicious. This time I felt her shudder slightly and if I'm not mistaken, her back was braced and she lunged slightly in the air. When I descended to the ankle, she kicked off one of her elegant shoes displaying some beautifully painted toe nails.

"Now my little darling, open your mouth and suck on my toes up to the balls of my feet. And be careful not to get saliva on my precious stockings."

I can't say whether I thoroughly liked the idea of doing what I did. I can just recall that at the time I really did not find it distasteful. In fact, she was the one who asked me to change to the other foot when I wanted to continue my oral sensuality which was merely limited to the process of toe licking.

She pushed me away by placing her free foot on my shoulder. Although I could have gone on still, I felt that it would be best for me not to disobey her.

"I believe with practice you might be capable of pleasing me. However, you have a great deal to learn. Now you can kiss both feet goodbye before I put my shoes back on."

Courteously I obeyed the person whom I hoped would be my future employer.

"Now let us go back to the office where we will talk a little more."

She straightened her skirt and went to the mirror at the back of the cabin to smooth her glistening reddish-brown hair. In the meantime, I ran my fingers, using them as a comb, through my unruly hair and then fixed my tie in order to make myself presentable once again.

Once off the immaculate yacht and in the office, Mrs. Rugt became another woman. She told me that my salary would be only forty dollars a month and that I would receive my uniform on board. Naturally, food and lodging would be gratuitous. She stressed that it would be of the utmost importance that I cooperate with whatever be called for 'in the line of duty.' Innocently I accepted the conditions set forth.

"We sail Friday. That means I'll see you tomorrow which is the day before sailing and introduce you to the others. Incidentally, you better bring your baggage tomorrow for these will be no use returning home since the boat will be underway early Friday morning."

She smiled graciously as she got up from her desk and extended her strong feminine hand. I returned the handshake uncomfortably always thinking of what had transpired less than fifteen minutes ago.

As I walked to the door, she called to me.

"Remember, I want someone devoted and please keep that in mind."

I told her that I had an idea of what that meant and promised her that I would do my best.

The last words I heard were, "I'm so glad."

They came from a woman who was supremely beautiful and I lingered at the door gazing at that incredible enchantress before realizing that I was making a fool of myself. I closed the door and with a head loaded with thoughts parted for home.