Lilliane Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don’t own Jack Sparrow or POTC

On with the story!

Amidst the dirty crowded throngs of people, carts, and animals, Captain Jack Sparrow wobbled down the street in his infamous drunken strut. With his hands waving about and his head swerving as unsteadily as a cobra’s, Jack observed his surroundings. Suddenly, his coffee-coloured eyes caught sight of two lovely young ladies strolling about, both sporting carefree smiles. A devious smirk graced Jack’s rogue teeth; perhaps he could persuade these fine ladies to give him the pleasure of their company.

Oh what a ripe day for money! Lilliane and Marîne never had a better day of earning ‘funds’ from gracious ‘patrons’. With nimble fingers and clever conversation, the girls shed unfortunately oblivious and gullible souls of their plump purses. Of course, Marîne and Lilliane didn’t keep all of their funds. With piratical compassion, the duo gifted those in need with reasonable parcels of coins to repair what distress had been done. Whether the repairing was alcohol, food, or a way to restore order in the household, Lilliane and Marîne knew not, nor cared, all that mattered was easing people’s suffering. Marîne strongly believed in the phrase ‘To help oneself, one must help others’. Her well-endowed aunt Chantal said it multiple times a day, everyday, ‘til the evening she croaked. Indeed, they were her last words to Marîne to remind her to share whatever wealth she has acquired with those incapable of earning enough to sustain themselves, and to not be greedy.

Many a retired pirates and helpless beggars thanked the two girls, and called to their retreating backs with repeats of, “Bless ye lasses. May the Lord grant ye access to ‘eaven.” The day couldn’t have been better--if you ignored the sweltering humidity.

As suavely as he could manage, Jack approached Lilliane and Marîne, “‘Ello luvs,” he purred, “Might I have the pleasure of acquiring the names of such…..exquisite young ladies as the two of yeh,” he continued, lowering his kohl-rimmed eyes to rest upon Lilliane and Marîne’s dugs (1), pushed up by their stays (2).

Lilliane and Marîne shared a glance, their eyes replacing their mouths in a quick tête-à-tête. They tilted their faces back to Jack Sparrow; Lilliane curved her rouged lips into a smile and replied, “Certainly, good sir, if yeh would grace us with yers first.” Cockily, Jack grinned, displaying two gold teeth.

“Luv, how could you not know who I am? I am the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl”

Marîne expressed a look of mild impression, her mind racing with ideas and ways of swindling the great Capn’ Jack with her partner in crime.

Lilliane, satisfied, proceeded to reveal her and Marîne’s names. “Right, Captain, if you insist. My name is Polly and this ‘ere is my dear friend Isabelle.” she cooed. Once acquainted, Jack introduced a proposal:
“Say,” he said, “how about I treat ye luvs to rum?”

Marîne took it from here with a smirk, and replied, “Why, what a lovely suggestion-we accept (!)” With each woman at his side, both chatting as they strolled down the cobbled street, Jack felt like the cat’s meow. As they began searching for a suitable pub, the freelance theif and the heiress wench held their parasols so the ends were curved behind Jack’s back, encasing him in cotton bubble.

Several hours and many empty tankards later, Jack was drunk, and far more intoxicated than Lilliane was the day before.

When they were sure that Jack was too drunk to understand what was happening around him, Marîne started blabbering animatedly to Jack in mixture of Caribbean cockney and refined French. Whilst Marîne was distracting him, Lilliane reached a steady hand that was faintly laced with delicate scars toward Jack’s worn pouch that was weighed down by many coins of means. Suddenly, a browned, calloused, tattooed, yet strong hand snatched Lilliane’s wrist. Startled, Lilliane gasped and Marîne stopped her blabbering at Lilliane’s sign of trouble. Both held their breath.

“Luv,” Jack slurred, “I though ye was feisty before, but was I wrong!” His eyes shone with undisguised lust. Quickly Lilliane thought up a ploy.

That’s all for today folks!

1. Old slang for breasts.

2. Stays is what corsets were called until the 19th century.

Marîne is sounding a wee bit MarySuey. Tell me what you think so I can make this fanfic less appalling to thine eyes!