The midday sun cast its golden rays, impeded by two stray clouds only. The Bahama sky was otherwise bright blue. A slight breeze rippled the water.
Is was the same weather as the day before, and the same as the day before that. The temperature had risen from the blessed 70 degrees during the night to the sticky afternoon 90 degrees this Friday. It had been an outstanding spring so far.
The ten people aboard the cabin cruiser Christie were well acquainted with several ways to bear the heat.
Fred Narracot, the captain of the vessel, sat idly at the wheel. He wasn't steering since the enigine wasn't even on. The six foot one, red haired man sat deeply reclined in his chair, his hat over his closed eyes. A soft snoring escaped him from time to time.
Emily Brent, Tony Marston and William Blore were lying on the deck, doing nothing, getting a tan. While Emily was reading a book, Tony and William were talking. The three sometimes looked at the group in the water, but they could not be convinced to join them. Emily simply ignored the calls and turned her nose back into the book. Tony told the swimming band to get lost, causing William to laugh.
"Ah, who needs them," Thomas said with his loud voice, "They're no good swimmers anyway!" and he took another few strokes through the water on his back.
Ethel, his sister, looked at him and snorted as she swam.
"You look like a damned whale!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, maybe - but I've never seen a whale with dick as large as mine!" Rogers retorted.
"Never knew you were interested in whale dicks?"
The others laughed at Ethel's remark.
"Maybe his dad was a whale," Philip asked out loud while he swam by. Thomas turned and tried to grab him, but Philip was too fast for him.
"I'll have you pay for that," Thomas called after him.
"Yeah - whenever!"
Vera, the newest member of the group, took a dive from the boat. As she emerged, Thomas treated her to a splash of water. She had soon realized his unbridled interest in women in general, and now with her specifically, and was a bit relieved she'd decided to wear her green tank suit instead of the revealing bikini; Thomas wasn't the kind of guy she found attractive. He was too young for starters, and his gargantuan frame held little appeal to her.
"Claythorne!" yelled the last swimmer, John Macarthur.
"No. He's not inside, with a bottle?"
"Must be, that bastard's drunk half the time. He downed my bottle of real scotch last week, I'm still pissed."
"Typically Armstrong - I'd bet if I had any money on me."
Macarthur laughed and added, "Maybe he's better off not being here, within my reach..."
Vera gave him a grin and swam off.
Welcome, fellow fic-lovers, to my latest fic. The muse sang, the plot practically wrote itself, all that remains for me to do is write the chapters.
I'll try to publish one chapter per week, but don't hold it against me if I don't, please? Just sit back and enjoy the ride!
Immense thanks go out to Duffie for beta-ing and providing feedback. You're gold.
Disclaimer: I don't own shit and won't make any money out of this. I'm merely playing around with these characters.
PS: I'll be on holiday next week, probably without internet. I will reply to reviews and PM's, but it will be later than normal. I'm sure you'll excuse me for that minor inconvenience.