The Captain and Claire Read online

  The Captain and Claire

  By Gabriella West

  Copyright 2013

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  The Captain and Claire

  May 1930

  Sunday evening

  I am writing this diary entry aboard ship. A few minutes ago we pulled away from the dock and the Manhattan skyline, and I stumbled below to my little cabin, which seems so quaint — a tiny bed, a desk, a chest of drawers. I can’t get used to the feeling of constant movement yet - the ship almost seems to shudder as she steams through the waves. A strange oily smell pervades everything, yet it is scrupulously clean. I feel deliciously excited and at the same time almost sick — confused, too, as to what I am doing on a ship bound for England.

  My parents thought it best that I should travel, I know, after Charles died. Died. I’m amazed that I can write that word with almost no feeling. It’s been six months. Yet I never really knew how to feel about Charles. I cared for him and I know he adored me — yet when I think back to our life together it seems like a dream — a silly girl playing house for an older man. The way it happened, too, was odd for me, because I told him it didn’t matter that we’d lost all our money in the Wall Street Crash — so many others were in the same situation. But he shot himself anyway, as if to say: I just can’t go on. Now I have to learn that being a widow at 25 doesn’t mean my life is over.

  So my mother and father have packed me off to visit relatives in England, people I’ve never met. Was Mother tired of me moping around the house? I think they see another rich man in my future. I don’t; if I meet someone now, I want him to give me pleasure, the pleasure that Charles couldn’t give. It wasn’t his fault — I know that. But I can’t go into another relationship feeling this odd lack of passion, this numbness. I know I’m capable of much more.

  But I’m frightened. I’m afraid I will become hardened and promiscuous if I don’t allow myself to settle down with someone. The truth is — and I’m writing this only because I know Mother will never see it — is that I want to take lovers. I want to experience life. Charles would want me to, I think. He told me as much one night, about a week before he killed himself. We had just made love. (I’m blushing as I write this.) It was the last time, actually, wasn’t it? He groaned as he came inside me, and I remember stroking his hair and thinking, Poor dear man, he’s been so overburdened lately. Perhaps we should take a holiday.

  Anyway, he raised himself up on his elbow and looked down at me intently. I got a little scared. I was such a goose at those moments, when he’d get serious and mushy with me. I feel sorry now that I didn’t have the right words for him.

  “Darling Betsy,” he said to me. “You’re so beautiful. You’re glowing.”

  I smiled up at him, and he leaned down and kissed my lips. It was probably the loveliest time we’d ever had. And then he said this strange thing. He murmured, “I wish I was better at pleasing you. You’ve been so good to me.”

  “Oh, honey, don’t be silly,” I remember telling him. “You’re fine. It’s always fine, you know.”

  He smiled, but sadly. Then he whispered, “Oh Betsy, I’m sorry I wasn’t twenty years younger when we met. You have such passion locked inside you. I haven’t been able to bring it out.”

  I was too embarrassed to speak, and then he added: “If anything should happen to me, I’d want you to live life to the hilt.”

  How would I do that? I remember musing in bewilderment as he rolled over and fell asleep beside me.

  How does one take those first steps? I’m emotional, often. I’m desperate to be touched, loved again. But I don’t know so much. I know I’m a gauche little thing. I don’t even know how to flirt. I was so shy when Charles courted me; I said yes to him because I couldn’t imagine anyone else ever wanting me. Now I’m different — a little harder, perhaps even a little too bold at times. But I’m still a good, wholesome girl from upstate New York. Probably nobody will notice me on this trip. But I can notice them. I can look around and see whom I like. That’s all right, isn’t it?

  Monday

  It’s only one day later and so much has changed.

  Last night I went to the dining room. I gave my name to the steward at the door and he told me to go to Table Four; apparently we sit at pre-assigned tables. The room was full of very important looking people, most of them older and wealthy, of course. I crept to my seat.

  My seatmate was a dark-haired girl. She introduced herself as Claire. English accent. Such lovely dark bobbed hair, and pale flawless skin. She turns out to be about 30, and declared herself to be an old maid. We had such fun at dinner! We giggled like schoolgirls.

  She said she had visited New York to see some of the museums. She’s an artist, apparently. I said I had never been to any of the museums, that my family didn’t believe in high culture — theater, art. Especially not modern art, which my father thinks is shocking. She raised her eyebrows at that and said, “I see.” Something about the way she said it made me blush. She was very kind to me.

  After dinner everybody got quiet. Captain Smith, who’s a tall, handsome, bearded man of about 35, I would say, got up and made a speech. Claire said it’s the same one he always makes; she’s heard it all before. But it seemed like a very good speech to me, all about the different things one could do on the ship — dancing, swimming, calisthenics, and card games. There will be a movie every evening — imagine that. Bars are well stocked. It seems like they all drink a lot. The wine at dinner had gone to my head, I realize now. I was a bit surprised to see the Captain making the rounds of all the tables and introducing himself.

  “He’s going to love you,” Claire whispered to me. “He adores blondes.”

  I shrugged and laughed. But it was odd. He came over to us and took my hand and held it for a very long time. Claire introduced me as Mrs. Parker. She said, “This is Betsy’s first time on board ship, Captain. I’m going to take her under my wing.”

  He squeezed my hand. “That’s an excellent idea, Claire,” he said, smiling.

  “Oh, he calls you Claire!” I exclaimed, and the whole table laughed.

  “Yes, we’re old friends, Mrs. Parker,” the Captain explained. He seemed amused. “Claire and I have had some wonderful conversations...about art.”

  “We tend to have the same taste,” Claire pointed out, and the Captain’s face relaxed, as if in memory of something good.

  “Mrs. Parker,” he said, releasing my hand. “I hope we can get better acquainted another time. Meanwhile, Claire should keep you busy.”

  “Oh, I plan to keep Mrs. Parker very busy,” she called after him. Then she laughed at my puzzled expression.

  “He always does this. He’ll come over on the first evening and charm some poor woman off her feet.”

  “But he was totally proper!” I told her.

  She smiled — a rather sad smile. “I know the Captain very well,” she said in a whisper. “And I have to tell you that what he does with his chosen ladies could never be considered proper. He’s a ladies man.”

  “Really?” I asked. A thrill went through me.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “If you get a note to go to his cabin, you had better be ready to fend off his advances. Because he will make them.”

  “Did he make advances
to you?”

  She only smiled. Then she took my arm and walked me out into the dark sea air. I shivered, and she wrapped her jacket around me. I leaned against her for support, smelling her lovely hair. My stomach was doing little bounces, particularly when she put her lips to my ear. What she told me then is really very shocking. Apparently the Captain and Claire were lovers a few years ago! And she said that he is extraordinarily skilled at fucking (her words!) and can “last” for a really long time. She said that he’s big — I feel so strange writing this. Big in “that way,” she said. But more than that, he knows how to use his hands, his mouth, to play a woman like a musical instrument. She told me that my eyes were like saucers. She said that I’m beautiful and inexperienced, and that the Captain will like that.

  I told her I wouldn’t go to him, that I’m not like that. That I have more self-respect than to become the Captain’s mistress for a week. That it would be a scandal I’d never live down.

  “Oh no, he’s very discreet,” she told me. “So discreet that nobody on board would know, except me. He’d have you visit him in the afternoon for an hour or two. Most people are sleeping off their lunch at that time. Or having sex.”

  I looked down at my feet, suddenly embarrassed that I knew so little about such a basic physical thing. I’d been brought up to believe that lust was wrong, that lust was something only men and some unfortunate women — prostitutes, for instance — indulged in. But what Claire was saying confused me — because she is so beautiful, intelligent, and desirable. She kissed me then, very lightly, on the mouth.

  I can’t believe that a woman kissed me! And then she asked me to come to her cabin. I just couldn’t, though. It seemed too sudden. So I said I was tired, but that perhaps we could spend some time together tomorrow evening, and she nodded pleasantly and showed me to my door.

  Today has been spent unprofitably, I’m afraid. I’ve tried to read; I’ve taken a walk on deck. I keep thinking about them. What if he likes me? What if she wants me? I’ve heard nothing from either of them yet today. But I will see her tonight, and I want to see her. I feel like she can teach me things. I’m really nervous!

  Tuesday

  Last night we walked to her cabin after dinner. It’s not far from mine. It felt strange to go with her down a corridor of identical closed doors, my heart beating wildly. Of course I’ve a perfect right to go to her cabin! But it still felt wrong, somehow – but wrong in a good way. Fun.

  She took out a fancy cocktail shaker and showed me how to make a gin and tonic. We sat on her bed. She was completely poised, as I got sillier and sillier. She asked me if I had ever had an orgasm. I got completely quiet. Then I said, “No. I can’t imagine what that would be like.” Then there was a long silence.

  We were smoking cigarettes. Claire uses a holder. She’s so glamorous. At one point she said, “I probably shouldn’t say this, Betsy, but I could give you an orgasm. I’m very skilled. So is the Captain. I know he’ll probably ask you to visit him tomorrow and I’d like to be the first person to give you one. But it’s up to you.”

  My first impulse was to be insulted. She presumed so much – she seemed to think that I was a cheap slut. But instead of jumping up and leaving I just stared. She leaned over and kissed me, hard this time. Pulled away. Kissed me again, with her tongue in my mouth. I felt this strange feeling, as if my body was giving way. I groaned.

  She gently pushed me back on the bed. I remember a lot of things. Her hair brushing against my bare skin. Her mouth lingering on my breasts. Oh God, it felt good. I kept on thinking, “I’m going to tell her to stop. I’m going to get up.” But I didn’t. I just couldn’t, somehow.

  She slid her hand up my skirt, between my legs. Her fingers pushed aside my underwear and caressed my tender parts. She pushed her finger right inside, and in a few minutes she gave me more pleasure than I ever had with Charles.

  Then she did the most incredible thing: she undressed me completely, spread my legs, and used her mouth on me! And when I looked down I saw her head moving between my thighs and I watched her until I felt my eyes roll back in my head and my back arch and I heard myself shrieking. I screamed and shuddered and called her name.

  She was so tender. She kissed me and I lay in her arms. She told me I was beautiful and sensual and that she loves my full bouncy breasts with their big nipples and my lovely plump body and curvy bottom, and so will the Captain. And I told her that she was enough for me. How could I possibly have a man and a woman lover at the same time? It would be monstrous.

  She laughed and said that over the past ten years she’s often had several lovers at a time, that it’s old hat in England now to have just one lover, and that it’s clear I need a sensual education; frankly, if she was me, she said, she’d be intensely eager to experience as much pleasure as she possibly could. She said that a woman’s body could be woken up by another woman, but that to experience true ecstasy a woman like me must be deeply penetrated. She said it was different for her now because she prefers woman lovers and she enjoys the active role a lot.

  The idea of being penetrated excited me. She asked me if I wanted her to “go down” on me again, and I said yes. So she repeated what she’d done before, only this time she flicked her tongue in the opening of my cunt, as she calls it. I moaned and moaned.

  She kissed me all over. My dear Claire. As I write this, alone in my cabin with a throbbing head, I wonder if she is thinking of me. She saw me to my door last night and kissed me deeply, like a lover. I suppose she is my lover. So this is what it means.

  I feel tremendously indolent today. And wicked. How loose I must be to be so easily seduced! And yet — I have decided that I will say yes to everything on this voyage.

  Later

  A steward just knocked on my door and gave me a little sealed envelope. It’s from the Captain. His name is George. It just asks politely if I will have a drink with him in his cabin at 2pm. I will. I told the steward yes and he nodded politely, but I noticed him casting an admiring glance at my bosom as he left. Men look at me in a familiar way now, as if they can imagine fucking me. I like it. Perhaps I just didn’t notice before.

  Wednesday morning

  Oh God. What has happened to me? I’m lying here feeling deliciously satiated, after a deep sleep of perhaps ten hours. I made love with two people yesterday.

  First, the Captain. I’m going to try and write this briefly, because there’s so much to say. I was nervous, but I dressed up for him. I put on my silk stockings and I chose not to wear any panties. My blouse was low-cut, my brassiere lacy. I applied lipstick to my mouth and rouge to my cheeks, which were flushed anyway. I don’t know why I did it; he probably would have been just as amorous had I shown up in an old robe and slippers.

  I’m going to be coarse here. He took me three times: in the missionary position, and from behind (delicious), and then he buggered me. Can you imagine?

  It felt so natural. I allowed him to do everything he wanted. His touch felt different from Claire’s, different from Charles’s, too. The first thing he did was to stroke my legs as we talked. I got all shivery and wet. He asked me to describe everything Claire and I had done yesterday, and I had this wicked urge to see what the effect would be on him so I told him everything, breathlessly, because as I spoke he knelt beside me and took one of my breasts into his mouth and slid his hand up all the way to my cunt and stroked me. It felt so good.

  He told me I was very wet and that I was a naughty little girl. And then he spanked me! He picked me up and put me on his bed and he spanked me for a long time. I could feel his erection pressing into my leg. Delicious anticipation.

  Then he turned me over and asked if he could fuck me. Just like that, bluntly. I said yes. He fingered me a little more. I screamed, yes. He said that he would be gentle with me until I got warmed up, and he rubbed a clear jelly on his cock to make it easier to enter me. His cock was huge. I touched it, guided it inside.

  Oh God, the feeling as he slid into me. I just moaned a
nd moaned. He put my legs up on his shoulders and he took me like some kind of animal. I literally lost track of time. The pleasure was like nothing I’ve ever had. Deep, deep into me he pushed, fondling my breasts as he fucked me. He told me I was a hot little whore, that he was going to fuck me good and hard because he’d heard from Claire that I was insatiable. I think I must be insatiable. I’d already told him that it was ok to come inside me. When he did so, I felt an enormous gush of liquid. Charles never felt like that.

  He was sweet afterwards, telling me he doesn’t want to get me pregnant so he would wear a rubber if I wanted him to. He apologized for coming inside me like that, and I laughed and said no, it’s close to my time of the month and anyway Charles and I had tried to have a child for years and nothing ever happened. He nodded and said, “I’m sorry about your husband.” We lay together and didn’t say anything for a little while. He was very thoughtful and finally said that he got carried away, that maybe it was selfish of him to want me, that he didn’t intend to corrupt me or spoil my love affair with Claire.

  I made him smile then by kissing his bristly cheek and saying that Claire had encouraged me to do it, and that she had told me that he could penetrate me so deeply that I’d feel ecstasy. And she was right. Then I crouched over him and took his slumbering cock in my mouth. Charles had shown me how to excite him in that way, so I knew a little, but it only took a minute before the Captain was hard as a rock. And, very gently this time, he set me on my hands and knees and slipped into me from behind. He was so skilled and subtle that I hardly noticed the pleasure building up until I rammed back into him screaming “Yes! Yes!” and he still restrained himself from roughly taking me; he just pushed in and out with delicious slow strokes until suddenly my whole body just exploded around his cock and I cried out.