Rapture's Rendezvous

“But it is so small,” she repeated. “It felt much larger . . . when . . . inside me.” “Caress it, Maria,” he said thickly, stiffening his legs. “How?”

“Just move your fingers on it. You will soon understand.”

She did as he suggested, thinking this thing to feel so warm. Her eyes widened as it suddenly began to thicken and grow in her hand. “Why .. . it's . .. alive …” she-gasped.

“Very alive,” he laughed, then turned to lift her to lie atop him, inserting his manhood inside her again. “And now, let's show you just how alive,” he groaned, thrusting wildly inside her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, feeling her breasts bouncing against his chest, stirring her to sexual bliss again, surprised that it could happen again so soon. She wanted to scream . . . yell… she felt so wonderful.. . but soon it was all over again, leaving her to lie completely exhausted and even ready for sleep.

She moved from atop Michael and lay panting, wondering if her heart would ever beat normally again.. ..

“Can you stay with me, Maria?” Michael asked, brushing hair back from her eyes, tracing her strawberry-colored birthmark with his forefinger, but not mentioning it, for fear of embarrassing her. He could not be sure of her feelings for this one flaw about her features. “The voyage is to be a long, boring one,” he quickly added.

Her eyes opened wildly, suddenly remembering Alberto and how frightened he might be and how frantically he must be searching for her. She climbed from the bed and began to dress in her clothes that had succeeded at drying beside the stove. “My brother,” she said breathlessly. “I simply forgot all about him.”

Michael rose from the bed, buttoning his breeches. “He's old enough to fend for himself, Maria.”

“But we've never been apart. Never.”

“This would be a good time to start,” Michael argued. He went to her and pulled her to him, exploring with his hands beneath her jacket. “It's not normal for brother and sister to be so close. You have to break that bond. And soon.”

Maria jerked from his hold, with anger flashing in her eyes. “We shall never break our bonds,” she hissed. “Ours is an alliance of love.”

Michael stormed away from her and grabbed his shirt

to pull it on. “Can his love warm you at night?” he shouted. “Can his hands caress and excite you as mine can?”

Maria's fists doubled at her side.-”You are filthy-mouthed, Michael,” she screamed. “How could I have let you touch me?”

He laughed sardonically. “Because for a while there, you realized there was more to life than being a sister.”

Maria flung her hair around her shoulders angrily, now realizing that she had left her hat on the top deck, lying beside the bunk. Now everyone aboard this ship knew that she was a female. A fear gripped her insides, remembering Alberto's warnings. She had wanted to be seduced by Michael… but not anyone else. . . . But at this moment, that was the least of her worries.

“I'm getting out of here,” she said, buttoning the last button of her breeches. She hurried toward the door, but stopped to eye the apple and cheese slices, worrying about Alberto and what he had probably had to eat for his evening meal. “Can . . . 1.. . ?” she whispered, begging with her eyes.

“Hell, yes,” Michael pouted. “Take it all.”

“Oh, thank you. Michael,” she murmured, scooping as much food into her pockets as was possible. Then she eyed Michael with a long, lingering look, again feeling the warm, pulsating between her thighs, knowing that no amount of anger she felt for him could ever make her hate him. She was in love with him . . . and would be . . . forever and ever.

He moved toward her and secured the cork in the wine bottle. “Here,” he said, handing it toward her. “Take this also. It gets quite cold topside. But you already are aware of this, aren't you?”

Tears sprang up at the corner of Maria's eyes. “Oh, Michael,” she whispered. “Thank you.” She tucked the bottle beneath an arm, picked up her violin case and stood aside as Michael unlocked and opened the door for her.

“Good night, Maria,” he said, leaning to brush a kiss against her lips.

“Good night, Michael,” she replied, then turned and began to flee down the long, dark passageway, being guided by only slight flickerings of whale oil lanterns positioned on each side wall.

Moving onward, keeping her eyes forward, anxious to reach the steps that led upward to top deck, she suddenly stumbled against something sprawled at her feet. She leaned against the wall, feeling desperation rising inside herself when she looked downward to see what could be blocking her passage. Then a loud scream surfaced from the depths of her throat when she discovered it to be the body of Alberto . . . lying lifeless … in a fetal position . . . with blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

Slumping to the deck, Maria let the wine bottle crash to the floor. She placed her violin case next to Alberto, then lifted his head to rest on her lap. “Alberto,” she moaned, rocking back and forth, with tears streaming down her face. “My sweet, sweet Alberto.”

A sudden rush of feet brought Michael to her side. “Oh, my God,” he groaned, stooping to see how Alberto was. He checked his pulse. “He's just knocked out, Maria,” he said. “He'll be all right.”

“Why would anyone do this to Alberto?” she cried, feeling a part of her dying inside. She could almost feel his pain. She cradled him closer to her.

“Many evil things can happen on a ship,” Michael said. “Come. Let's take your brother to my cabin.”

“No,” she snapped angrily, remembering the cruelty of Michael's words of only moments earlier about her love for her brother.