Alphabet Soup Ficathon
For the letter N in Lokei's William Bush Alphabet Soup Ficathon
Rated: R for naughtiness
“Frigate to the starboard,” Galbraith called out. “And she’s a beauty.”
The officers of the Lydia turned as one to stare. Bush raised his hat in courtesy as the lady, swaying on her high-heeled shoes, sauntered past them. Gerard, ever the gallant, bowed and gave her a dazzling smile, while Galbraith gawked like a runny-nosed midshipman. Despite the lace veil that was draped across her shoulders in a pretense of modesty, her dress did little to hide the curves of her buttocks and breasts. She nodded gracefully as she passed the officers. A Negro servant followed her, holding an umbrella to keep off the sun.
Gerard, who considered himself an expert in the ways of women, stared at her retreating stern and shook his head. “By the cut of her jib, she’s no privateer. It would be against the rules of engagement to approach her. We’ll have to seek out another prize.”
After so many weeks at sea, the land seemed to roll beneath their feet as they lumbered down the street. Or perhaps, Bush thought, it was the effect of the bottle of rum they were sharing. This part of Kingston did a brisk trade with sailors, and they passed several taverns and brothels as they walked.
“Let's go there,” Bush said, pointing at the painted sign above a door.
Tilting his handsome head to one side, Gerard laughed and read aloud, “’The Sleepless Sailor.’ Sounds good to me.”
“I just hope that the building doesn’t come crashing down on us,” Galbraith said with a doubtful look at the peeling paint and sagging steps, but since he was only a lowly third lieutenant, he dutifully followed his superiors through the doorway.
Three women, seated in low wicker chairs, looked up from a game of vingt-et-un. Half-empty glasses and plates cluttered the table.
“I hope that we are not intruding at an inopportune moment, ladies,” Gerard said with a bow.
“It’s a regular boarding party,” one of them said, arching her eyebrows as she inspected the three officers. Her hair fell in dark ringlets over her naked shoulders, and her bodice did little to hide her ample charms. Rising to her feet, she said, “I get first choice. I’ll take the good-looking one.” Gerard gawked in surprise as she swept past him without a glance and put an arm around Bush’s waist. Her touch was delightfully warm and heavy.
He began unbuttoning his service coat as she led him up the narrow stairs. “Mr. Gerard, Mr. Galbraith. I’ll be back in-“ Bush stopped for a moment to consider how long this would take. “A while. And don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Galbraith replied with a grin. No doubt he and Gerard would make good use of their time.
Bush followed the dark-haired woman into a room and closed the door. "The good-looking one? I don't think Gerard will ever forgive me."
"I take it that's the name of your pretty lieutenant."
Bush laughed. "You wouldn't know him. He wasn't with me the last time I was in Kingston." He unbuckled his sword and set it on the small table, then pushing aside the mosquito netting, he sat on the edge of the bed. “So how have you been keeping, Bess?”
“Well enough, William,” she said. She knelt down to help him unbuckle his shoes. “Though between the war and the yellow fever, I will soon have no gentlemen visitors left.”
“It’s been too long since I’ve been here.” Over the years, he and Hornblower had spent some wild nights in this establishment, and he looked forward to once again sating himself on its many pleasures.
“Too long? I would say so,” she replied, running a hand lightly across the front of his trousers.
There was only one answer to such a bold remark. She gave a squawk of laughter as he hauled her onto the bed and clumsily unhooked the bodice. Still wearing his shoes and only halfway out of his breeches, he boarded her briskly, yet he did not hurry to take his prize. Though she struggled against him, she asked for no quarter, so none was given and he did not spare her the full thrust of swordplay. His legs became entangled in the mosquito netting, until he pulled it down from the hooks in the ceiling.
And that was only the night’s first engagement. When they were finished, Bess smiled, pushing a sweaty strand of hair from her eyes. “Now it’s my turn to take charge, Lieutenant.” She drew a small box from under the bed and handed it to him. “I learned to use these from a captain in the China trade.”
Bush peered inside the box and whistled. From stories he had heard on shipboard, he had a vague idea of what those were for. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, his body tensing in anticipation of this unknown pleasure. Stripped to the skin, he lay on the bed, his arms and legs spread wide, and willingly surrendered himself into the hands of the privateer.
Rated: R for naughtiness
“Frigate to the starboard,” Galbraith called out. “And she’s a beauty.”
The officers of the Lydia turned as one to stare. Bush raised his hat in courtesy as the lady, swaying on her high-heeled shoes, sauntered past them. Gerard, ever the gallant, bowed and gave her a dazzling smile, while Galbraith gawked like a runny-nosed midshipman. Despite the lace veil that was draped across her shoulders in a pretense of modesty, her dress did little to hide the curves of her buttocks and breasts. She nodded gracefully as she passed the officers. A Negro servant followed her, holding an umbrella to keep off the sun.
Gerard, who considered himself an expert in the ways of women, stared at her retreating stern and shook his head. “By the cut of her jib, she’s no privateer. It would be against the rules of engagement to approach her. We’ll have to seek out another prize.”
After so many weeks at sea, the land seemed to roll beneath their feet as they lumbered down the street. Or perhaps, Bush thought, it was the effect of the bottle of rum they were sharing. This part of Kingston did a brisk trade with sailors, and they passed several taverns and brothels as they walked.
“Let's go there,” Bush said, pointing at the painted sign above a door.
Tilting his handsome head to one side, Gerard laughed and read aloud, “’The Sleepless Sailor.’ Sounds good to me.”
“I just hope that the building doesn’t come crashing down on us,” Galbraith said with a doubtful look at the peeling paint and sagging steps, but since he was only a lowly third lieutenant, he dutifully followed his superiors through the doorway.
Three women, seated in low wicker chairs, looked up from a game of vingt-et-un. Half-empty glasses and plates cluttered the table.
“I hope that we are not intruding at an inopportune moment, ladies,” Gerard said with a bow.
“It’s a regular boarding party,” one of them said, arching her eyebrows as she inspected the three officers. Her hair fell in dark ringlets over her naked shoulders, and her bodice did little to hide her ample charms. Rising to her feet, she said, “I get first choice. I’ll take the good-looking one.” Gerard gawked in surprise as she swept past him without a glance and put an arm around Bush’s waist. Her touch was delightfully warm and heavy.
He began unbuttoning his service coat as she led him up the narrow stairs. “Mr. Gerard, Mr. Galbraith. I’ll be back in-“ Bush stopped for a moment to consider how long this would take. “A while. And don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Galbraith replied with a grin. No doubt he and Gerard would make good use of their time.
Bush followed the dark-haired woman into a room and closed the door. "The good-looking one? I don't think Gerard will ever forgive me."
"I take it that's the name of your pretty lieutenant."
Bush laughed. "You wouldn't know him. He wasn't with me the last time I was in Kingston." He unbuckled his sword and set it on the small table, then pushing aside the mosquito netting, he sat on the edge of the bed. “So how have you been keeping, Bess?”
“Well enough, William,” she said. She knelt down to help him unbuckle his shoes. “Though between the war and the yellow fever, I will soon have no gentlemen visitors left.”
“It’s been too long since I’ve been here.” Over the years, he and Hornblower had spent some wild nights in this establishment, and he looked forward to once again sating himself on its many pleasures.
“Too long? I would say so,” she replied, running a hand lightly across the front of his trousers.
There was only one answer to such a bold remark. She gave a squawk of laughter as he hauled her onto the bed and clumsily unhooked the bodice. Still wearing his shoes and only halfway out of his breeches, he boarded her briskly, yet he did not hurry to take his prize. Though she struggled against him, she asked for no quarter, so none was given and he did not spare her the full thrust of swordplay. His legs became entangled in the mosquito netting, until he pulled it down from the hooks in the ceiling.
And that was only the night’s first engagement. When they were finished, Bess smiled, pushing a sweaty strand of hair from her eyes. “Now it’s my turn to take charge, Lieutenant.” She drew a small box from under the bed and handed it to him. “I learned to use these from a captain in the China trade.”
Bush peered inside the box and whistled. From stories he had heard on shipboard, he had a vague idea of what those were for. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, his body tensing in anticipation of this unknown pleasure. Stripped to the skin, he lay on the bed, his arms and legs spread wide, and willingly surrendered himself into the hands of the privateer.