Scarlett & Giselle Series - 7: Compromising Positions
Author: mamazano
Title: Compromising Positions
Rating: R (very suggestive situations)
Characters: Jack, Giselle, Scarlett, Gibbs
Disclaimer: Disney owns them, I just play with them
Summary: What do you get when you put Jack Sparrow, a willing wench, and an ancient Chinese Sex Handbook together?
Note: Another installment in the ongoing saga of Scarlett and Giselle, this is Part 2 of the previous episode which can be found here: In No Position to Argue
( Index to all Episodes )
A special thanks goes out once again to
compassrose7577 for her diligent beta reading… and more.
Compromising Positions
****
“Jack! I think I’m stuck!” Giselle seemed more amused than worried, peering between her legs at him as he quickly flipped pages in the little book.
“Hold up, darling. I know it’s in here somewhere.” He cocked his head sideways and studied the long-limbed wench, carefully noting the position of her arms and legs.
“Well, will you hurry up? I ain’t no bloomin’ butterfly… or whatever you called this.”
Jack consulted the book and then Giselle, squinting with one eye as he shook his head. “No, belay that! It’s all wrong!” he huffed, mildly frustrated. We’re supposed to be trying the Flying Seagulls position. Appears like what you’ve got there is the Goat Facing a Tree.” He leafed through a few pages and added thoughtfully, “Or perhaps the Three Year Old Donkey.”
A sudden thump interrupted his thoughts. He looked up from his page thumbing to find Giselle sprawled on the floor after tumbling off the bed. Staring up at the ceiling she sighed. “What were those girls that you stole that from, contorturests?”
“Contortionists,” Jack quickly corrected. “No, they were just not so… so tall.” He grinned at Giselle, arms and legs askew. Girl was all legs… like a newborn foal.
“Ah ha!” Jack declared enthusiastically, stabbing his finger on a page. “I knew I’d find it. Jumping White Tiger.”
“I thought we were doin’ Flutterin’ Butterflies,” Giselle grumbled as she rolled to a sitting position the floor.
“Or is that Pawing Horse?” he muttered, unfolding a tattered piece of parchment.
“What happen t’ the bloomin’ tiger?” Giselle stood up and walked to the table where Jack sat. Leaning against his bare back, she peered over his shoulder at the book before him.
“What’s that position called?” she asked, curiously pointing at an illustration.
Jack glanced briefly at the drawing, his eyes darting away. “Monkey Attack. Not sure I want to try that one,” he grimaced, and quickly turned the page.
Jack squinted at another illustration and consulted the parchment. “Let me see, got the girls t’ translate for me. Says here that for Crouching Dragon you’re to…”
Giselle wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder as he busily rifled through the book. His body responded to her naked skin pressed against him. Grinning, he pointed downward at himself. “Well, whatever it’s called,” he said brightly, “looks as if me Jade Stalk is ready.”
Giselle looked down with mild interest and giggled. “Is that what you call it?” Her hand trailed playfully downward, teasing. “That’s ‘bout as good as calling yer arse dearie.”
Jack rolled his eyes as he grabbed her wandering hand and placed it definitively on his erect member. “Want to do things by the book don’t we? See, says here,” he read off the piece of parchment, “Woman - that’s you - lies on back. Man - that’d be yours truly - stands in front of bed and raises woman’s legs, then thrusts his Jade Stalk deep into the Precious Gate.”
“Ooh! And what position is that?” Giselle’s nimble fingers were busy, distracting him from any other thoughts.
With a groan, Jack threw down the book and stood up. Turning, he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, tossing her easily on the bed. Seizing her by the ankles, he drew her long legs towards him. “I call it the Lusting Sparrow position,” he said, with a glittering grin.
****
The crewmembers of the Black Pearl were exhausted. Never, in all their visits in port, had they been subjected to such undivided attention. It seemed half the bloody town of Tortuga was crowded into the taverns, trying to get the men to part with a bit of their gold. The merchants had taken to bringing samples of their wares to them, hawking everything from belts and hats, to gunpowder and pistol shot. In direct competition were the town’s whores, women of every shape, size and favor. There was not a member of the crew, short or old, that didn’t have at least two or three wenches tussling over them like a flock of raucous gulls.
Consequently, when Jack finally reappeared, after several days spent in his own lustful pursuits, his crew cornered him demanding he do something. Gibbs, being quartermaster and liaison between crew and commander, approached Jack with their complaints.
“Cap’n,” Gibbs stood awkwardly, twisting his hands together, a desperate look in his eyes. “The men, myself included, have been wondering…”
“Well spit it out, Gibbs! Is something the matter? Not enough rum to suit them? Or wenches?” Jack leaned back against the wall of the tavern and took a long swallow from his tankard. He studied the men, standing in a semi-circle behind Gibbs.
All look too worn to be grieving anything, he thought as he surveyed the gathering of them behind Gibbs. Hell, Cotton and a couple o’ those others look like they’re asleep in their shoes.
Gibbs cleared his throat and started again. “Well, that’s the problem, Cap’n. There be too much of both. Men are plumb worn out.”
Jack glanced around to confirm privacy and motioned Gibbs closer. “Have t’ admit I’m a might washed-out meself,” he said, in a low voice.” Perhaps it might be prudent, considerin’ the circumstances, if we were to weigh anchor a wee bit earlier than planned. Quiet like, if you get me drift,” he finished, with a conspiratorial arching of the brows.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Gibbs murmured, clearly relieved.” The last of the supplies were stowed this morning. Just be a matter now, of waiting on the tide.” Gibbs looked around nervously and added, “Best if we were to sail while the town were abed. Less likely to cause a stir.”
“Point taken, Mister Gibbs. We’ll sail on the morning’s tide.”
Jack watched his crew shuffle away, a bevy of wenches following tightly in their wake. Finishing his drink, he followed them out into the street. He had one last item to attend to before sailing.
****
Giselle woke to an empty room. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she curiously glanced around for Jack. It was early; dawn’s light barely a hint in the eastern sky. Across the dimly lit room, she noted that Jack’s effects were gone… as well as the book, replaced by a cloth pouch weighing down a piece of parchment with florid handwriting.
Giselle picked up both, the purse heavy in her hand. Unable to read, she would have to wait for Scarlett to return to find out the contents of the note. The other was easily determined: gold, more than she’d ever seen at one time. Awestruck she sat down and stared at it, only looking up when the door opened.
“Scarlett! Come see what Jack left!”
Her roommate walked wearily over to the table, glancing first at the coins, then the note.
“Read it to me!”
Scarlett quickly scanned the note, her brow furrowing as she read. She glanced once more at the gold piled on the table and shook her head.
“Well? What does he say?” Giselle asked, excitedly. “Does he say what the gold’s for?”
Scarlett nodded and read aloud:
To the two loveliest wenches in all Tortuga,
After enjoying the pleasures of your company these past nights, I leave you both this small token of appreciation. Unforeseen circumstances require I weigh anchor before the culmination of our original accord. To rectify said condition, and to assure you of my sincere intentions when setting forth on this course, I leave you the remainder of the sum agreed upon, in the hopes of resuming this delightful repast upon my return.
~~ Captain Jack Sparrow
“Well, that’s that I suppose,” Scarlett said, tossing the note onto the table. “Never known Jack to be so generous before. Wonder what he really wants.”
Giselle shrugged. “Perhaps he just wanted to be nice. Not that odd, is it?
Scarlett snorted, skeptically. “Always looking at the bright side, aren’t you? Suppose you’ll find out in time, but men are only interested in one thing… themselves.”
Giselle chose to ignore Scarlett’s remarks-always seeing the dark side, she was - and flopped onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she smiled as she recalled the past few nights. Scarlett was probably right; Jack had been interested in his own pleasures, true. But somehow, Giselle felt amply compensated as well.
The gold was a nice bonus.
Title: Compromising Positions
Rating: R (very suggestive situations)
Characters: Jack, Giselle, Scarlett, Gibbs
Disclaimer: Disney owns them, I just play with them
Summary: What do you get when you put Jack Sparrow, a willing wench, and an ancient Chinese Sex Handbook together?
Note: Another installment in the ongoing saga of Scarlett and Giselle, this is Part 2 of the previous episode which can be found here: In No Position to Argue
( Index to all Episodes )
A special thanks goes out once again to
compassrose7577 for her diligent beta reading… and more.
Compromising Positions
****
“Jack! I think I’m stuck!” Giselle seemed more amused than worried, peering between her legs at him as he quickly flipped pages in the little book.
“Hold up, darling. I know it’s in here somewhere.” He cocked his head sideways and studied the long-limbed wench, carefully noting the position of her arms and legs.
“Well, will you hurry up? I ain’t no bloomin’ butterfly… or whatever you called this.”
Jack consulted the book and then Giselle, squinting with one eye as he shook his head. “No, belay that! It’s all wrong!” he huffed, mildly frustrated. We’re supposed to be trying the Flying Seagulls position. Appears like what you’ve got there is the Goat Facing a Tree.” He leafed through a few pages and added thoughtfully, “Or perhaps the Three Year Old Donkey.”
A sudden thump interrupted his thoughts. He looked up from his page thumbing to find Giselle sprawled on the floor after tumbling off the bed. Staring up at the ceiling she sighed. “What were those girls that you stole that from, contorturests?”
“Contortionists,” Jack quickly corrected. “No, they were just not so… so tall.” He grinned at Giselle, arms and legs askew. Girl was all legs… like a newborn foal.
“Ah ha!” Jack declared enthusiastically, stabbing his finger on a page. “I knew I’d find it. Jumping White Tiger.”
“I thought we were doin’ Flutterin’ Butterflies,” Giselle grumbled as she rolled to a sitting position the floor.
“Or is that Pawing Horse?” he muttered, unfolding a tattered piece of parchment.
“What happen t’ the bloomin’ tiger?” Giselle stood up and walked to the table where Jack sat. Leaning against his bare back, she peered over his shoulder at the book before him.
“What’s that position called?” she asked, curiously pointing at an illustration.
Jack glanced briefly at the drawing, his eyes darting away. “Monkey Attack. Not sure I want to try that one,” he grimaced, and quickly turned the page.
Jack squinted at another illustration and consulted the parchment. “Let me see, got the girls t’ translate for me. Says here that for Crouching Dragon you’re to…”
Giselle wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder as he busily rifled through the book. His body responded to her naked skin pressed against him. Grinning, he pointed downward at himself. “Well, whatever it’s called,” he said brightly, “looks as if me Jade Stalk is ready.”
Giselle looked down with mild interest and giggled. “Is that what you call it?” Her hand trailed playfully downward, teasing. “That’s ‘bout as good as calling yer arse dearie.”
Jack rolled his eyes as he grabbed her wandering hand and placed it definitively on his erect member. “Want to do things by the book don’t we? See, says here,” he read off the piece of parchment, “Woman - that’s you - lies on back. Man - that’d be yours truly - stands in front of bed and raises woman’s legs, then thrusts his Jade Stalk deep into the Precious Gate.”
“Ooh! And what position is that?” Giselle’s nimble fingers were busy, distracting him from any other thoughts.
With a groan, Jack threw down the book and stood up. Turning, he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, tossing her easily on the bed. Seizing her by the ankles, he drew her long legs towards him. “I call it the Lusting Sparrow position,” he said, with a glittering grin.
****
The crewmembers of the Black Pearl were exhausted. Never, in all their visits in port, had they been subjected to such undivided attention. It seemed half the bloody town of Tortuga was crowded into the taverns, trying to get the men to part with a bit of their gold. The merchants had taken to bringing samples of their wares to them, hawking everything from belts and hats, to gunpowder and pistol shot. In direct competition were the town’s whores, women of every shape, size and favor. There was not a member of the crew, short or old, that didn’t have at least two or three wenches tussling over them like a flock of raucous gulls.
Consequently, when Jack finally reappeared, after several days spent in his own lustful pursuits, his crew cornered him demanding he do something. Gibbs, being quartermaster and liaison between crew and commander, approached Jack with their complaints.
“Cap’n,” Gibbs stood awkwardly, twisting his hands together, a desperate look in his eyes. “The men, myself included, have been wondering…”
“Well spit it out, Gibbs! Is something the matter? Not enough rum to suit them? Or wenches?” Jack leaned back against the wall of the tavern and took a long swallow from his tankard. He studied the men, standing in a semi-circle behind Gibbs.
All look too worn to be grieving anything, he thought as he surveyed the gathering of them behind Gibbs. Hell, Cotton and a couple o’ those others look like they’re asleep in their shoes.
Gibbs cleared his throat and started again. “Well, that’s the problem, Cap’n. There be too much of both. Men are plumb worn out.”
Jack glanced around to confirm privacy and motioned Gibbs closer. “Have t’ admit I’m a might washed-out meself,” he said, in a low voice.” Perhaps it might be prudent, considerin’ the circumstances, if we were to weigh anchor a wee bit earlier than planned. Quiet like, if you get me drift,” he finished, with a conspiratorial arching of the brows.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Gibbs murmured, clearly relieved.” The last of the supplies were stowed this morning. Just be a matter now, of waiting on the tide.” Gibbs looked around nervously and added, “Best if we were to sail while the town were abed. Less likely to cause a stir.”
“Point taken, Mister Gibbs. We’ll sail on the morning’s tide.”
Jack watched his crew shuffle away, a bevy of wenches following tightly in their wake. Finishing his drink, he followed them out into the street. He had one last item to attend to before sailing.
****
Giselle woke to an empty room. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she curiously glanced around for Jack. It was early; dawn’s light barely a hint in the eastern sky. Across the dimly lit room, she noted that Jack’s effects were gone… as well as the book, replaced by a cloth pouch weighing down a piece of parchment with florid handwriting.
Giselle picked up both, the purse heavy in her hand. Unable to read, she would have to wait for Scarlett to return to find out the contents of the note. The other was easily determined: gold, more than she’d ever seen at one time. Awestruck she sat down and stared at it, only looking up when the door opened.
“Scarlett! Come see what Jack left!”
Her roommate walked wearily over to the table, glancing first at the coins, then the note.
“Read it to me!”
Scarlett quickly scanned the note, her brow furrowing as she read. She glanced once more at the gold piled on the table and shook her head.
“Well? What does he say?” Giselle asked, excitedly. “Does he say what the gold’s for?”
Scarlett nodded and read aloud:
To the two loveliest wenches in all Tortuga,
After enjoying the pleasures of your company these past nights, I leave you both this small token of appreciation. Unforeseen circumstances require I weigh anchor before the culmination of our original accord. To rectify said condition, and to assure you of my sincere intentions when setting forth on this course, I leave you the remainder of the sum agreed upon, in the hopes of resuming this delightful repast upon my return.
~~ Captain Jack Sparrow
“Well, that’s that I suppose,” Scarlett said, tossing the note onto the table. “Never known Jack to be so generous before. Wonder what he really wants.”
Giselle shrugged. “Perhaps he just wanted to be nice. Not that odd, is it?
Scarlett snorted, skeptically. “Always looking at the bright side, aren’t you? Suppose you’ll find out in time, but men are only interested in one thing… themselves.”
Giselle chose to ignore Scarlett’s remarks-always seeing the dark side, she was - and flopped onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she smiled as she recalled the past few nights. Scarlett was probably right; Jack had been interested in his own pleasures, true. But somehow, Giselle felt amply compensated as well.
The gold was a nice bonus.