The engine changed from a smooth rumble to the rough chugging of idle. They were there. It was still dark. On Fridays the Seawolf left the Palma Pier at midnight on its weekly overnighter for the serious anglers. Judy, like most of the fishermen, slept till they reached the fishing grounds.
Steeling herself, she rolled off her bunk onto the deck, put on her shoes and headed for the galley. Coming from the warmth of below to the cold of a morning at sea snapped her awake. Sometimes she asked herself if it was worth it, but J.P. loved to go out on the all day boat.
Drinking a cup of coffee, she picked up her rod with its five hooks and headed toward the bait tank, trying not to slip on the slimy deck. She set the coffee by the tank and, with a quick count to three, thrust her hand in, grabbing for an anchovy. The bait net was gone. She latched onto one of the fast moving little fish and jerked her hand out of the cold water, spilling her coffee.
She baited one of her hooks, repeated the process four more times, then sighed when a smiling man returned the net without a clue that he had committed a gross rudeness by taking it away from the tank. She felt like telling him, but instead took her rod over to her position.
Looking overboard, she saw a school of silvery mackerel swim by and uttered one word, “Shit,” under her breath. They’d try to steal her bait before it hit bottom, where the unsuspecting cod lay waiting to become dinner. She hoped she had enough weight on the line to get her hooks down before she lost her anchovies. Crossing her fingers, she dropped the line into the water and watched it sink.
She smiled when the bait slid by the mackerel without a strike and she spun out her line. Five hundred feet to the sea floor. Then she wound up five turns and waited. She thought about a cigarette as she watched the gulls soar overhead, backlit by the rising sun, but it had been almost a year and she didn’t want to start back up. Settling in to get comfortable, she felt the first quick tug, then another, then a third. She started winding.
“ Fish tonight!” she yelped.
Then she saw it, six feet of graceful glory, circling twenty feet away. Blue shark. Shifting her gaze skyward she saw three pregnant looking birds gliding into position. Pelicans. It wasn’t going to be easy. When she judged she had only about fifty feet of line left, she stopped winding and watched the shark. It seemed an eternity, the animal had done this thousands of times, she was an amateur compared to it. She watched as the shark turned and headed toward her line. There was nothing she could do if it decided to take it. Then without warning it turned and struck.
“ Damn!” an unlucky fisherman cursed as Judy wound with all the fury she could muster.
Forty feet, then thirty, then twenty, ten.
“ Oh boy!” she squealed.
Another shark, coming fast. Five feet, closing rapidly.
With a jerk she pulled the line, winding furiously and grinning as dinner, eyes bulging, burst from the ocean. But the grin was short lived, because a pelican, diving like a kamikaze, swooped out of the sky and grabbed her fish. It swallowed, fish, hook and all. Then it went limp and waited. Waited to be cut loose. Like the shark, it too had played this game before, it was like the birds knew they were protected. Gone was her dinner. There was nothing left to do, but cut the bird free, curse and try again.
Such are the perils of rock cod fishing, she thought as she heard J.P. shout out, “Mom, that was almost beautiful.” Hearing him say that made it all worthwhile.
“ Did you catch anything yet?” she asked her son.
“ Naw, I slept in.” It didn’t even occur to her to look for him when she got up. She thought he would be up front at his favorite spot fishing with the regulars. The fact that he wasn’t, meant that something was wrong.
“ I’m sorry, I didn’t notice. I just assumed you were up and at ’em. You always are.”
“ I was sleeping too good to get up early.”
She was worried about that. She wanted to know why and though she didn’t want to pry, she thought that maybe now was the time to bring it up.
“ You haven’t been sleeping well lately, have you?”
“ What?” J.P. snapped his eyes away from the blue Pacific and looked at his mother.
“ Come on J.P., I hear you get up during the night and go to the kitchen. And I see the way you drag your butt around the house. What’s wrong?”
“ Nothing.”
“ Come on, you can tell me.”
“ You’ll think I’m stupid.”
“ I would never think that.”
“ Dick Rainmaker told me that he saw the Ghost Dog.”
“ What?”
“ You know, the Ragged Man’s dog.”
“ J.P., that was just a silly superstitious story that Ann believed in.”
“ It killed her, and I really did see a knife that day. I did.”
“ It did not kill her. She had cancer. She was sick and she had a stroke. We’ve been over this knife business. It was a bad day, you saw those poor souls with a knife and you imagined they had something to do with Ann’s dying.”
“ No, I didn’t, and I saw something big and black go into the bushes. It was the Ghost Dog.” He was convinced.
She’d thought J.P. was over that horrible day. He was resilient and she’d thought, no hoped, that he’d bounced back, but apparently that story about the Ragged Man gave his memory something to hang on to. She wished he would let it go.
“ Maybe you saw a dog or something out back, but that doesn’t mean it was the Ghost Dog and who started calling it that anyway?”
“ All us kids call it that.”
“ If you and the other kids are seeing anything, it’s probably just someone’s big dog running loose.”
“ Okay, Mom, let’s not talk about it anymore.”
“ Okay.” She felt like he was shutting her out and she hated it.
“ J.P.,” came the booming voice of Wolfe Stewart, “we missed you this morning.” Judy turned and saw the bearded captain approaching.
“ I didn’t feel like getting up, Captain.”
“ Really, you?”
“ J.P. hasn’t been feeling well lately,” Judy said.
“ Well I got some news that will perk you up.”
“ What?” J.P. asked.
“ Rick called a couple of days ago. He said he’ll be back soon.”
“ Oh boy! Mom did you hear that, Rick’s coming back. He’ll know what to do about the Ghost Dog.”
“ What?”
“ It’s nothing Wolfe, just a fantasy.”
“ Is not.”
“ J.P.!”
“ It’s nothing, Captain,” the boy said, understanding the tone of his mother’s voice.
“ Coming up front, J.P.?” the captain asked as he turned to leave.
“ Mom, I’m going up front to fish with the guys. Okay?”
“ That’s fine J.P., I think I’ll get some breakfast. You want to use my rod?”
“ Okay.”
Judy handed him the rod and watched as they started for the bow.
“ Wolfe,” Judy called after the captain.
“ Yes.” He turned back to face her.
“ Where is Rick now?” She didn’t know why she wanted to know.
“ He’s visiting a friend in L.A.”
“ Christina Page?”
“ I wouldn’t know. All I do know,” he said, with an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, “is that he called and asked how you and J.P. were doing.” He paused for a second, as if in thought. “Oh yeah, and he told me he’d be back soon.”
“ Thank you.”
“ It’s nothing,” the captain said, dodging a fisherman on his way to the bait tank.
“ Oh, Captain,” she called again.
“ Yes.”
“ Why didn’t he call me if he wanted to know how we were?”
“ That’s a good question.” He smiled his answer, then with a wave, he left and went back to the front of the boat, leaving Judy to ponder what he’d said.
She suspected that Rick was staying with Christina Page. Christina was one of his old bootleg cronies and bootleg cronies stuck together.
Having been married to one of them, Judy knew about Rick’s four big customers: Evan, the Rolling Stones collector in New York; her ex-husband, Tom, the Led Zeppelin collector in Toronto; Danny, the Bob Dylan collector in New Orleans; and Christina Page, the Beatle collector in Long Beach.
She stopped her reminiscing and made her way to the galley to replace the spilled coffee. She took the steps down to the galley, bouncing through the door, smiling at the old men playing poker in one of the four booths.
“ How’s it going, guys?”
“ Great,” a bucktoothed man named Henry said, “except for the fact that I’m losing my shirt.”
“ You guys paid to fish,” she said.
“ And we’re gonna, right after this hand.”
Judy took the booth across from the poker players and watched as Henry won the hand with a queens over tens full house. She wished them luck as they made their way topside to wrestle with the Pacific for their dinner.
“ I’ll be back in a flash.” The cook dropped a plastic menu on her table. “Nature calls and I need a break.”
“ Take your time, I’m not in a hurry.”
“ Coffee pot is behind the counter, I’ll be back in fifteen or twenty.” He took the steps two at a time, leaving Judy alone in the galley, studying the menu.
“ Mind if I join you?”
She looked up to see a big man with close cropped hair.
“ No, of course not, I’d appreciate the company.” She was drawn to his steel gray eyes.
“ I don’t like fishing,” he said.
“ Then why come out on an all day fishing boat?”
“ I’m in town awhile, kind of on vacation, and I was bored. But now instead of being bored in a nice warm motel room at six in the morning, I’m bored on a freezing cold fishing boat in the middle of the ocean.”
“ I’m a little bored myself.” Judy laughed, catching his smile.
“ Then let’s be bored together,” he said.
“ What a marvelous idea. Would you like some coffee?” She rose and walked behind the counter, without waiting for his answer, and poured two cups.
“ Black.”
“ Two black coffees coming up.” She carried the cups back to the table and set them down.
“ Thanks,” he said.
“ My name is Judy Donovan.” She held out her hand.
“ Sam Storm,” the handsome gray-eyed man said, taking her hand.
Judy hung up the phone with a smile. It had been a long time since she’d been out with a man. She was looking forward to dinner. The dinner didn’t really seem like a date, more like extending the long conversation that was interrupted when the Seawolf docked. She checked the wall clock, 4:30. An hour and a half and she had much to do.
She waltzed out of the kitchen and danced up the stairs. She was acting like a girl on her first date and it felt good. Sam Storm might be closing on sixty, but he was still a head turner, and he was a charmer. The way he looked at her made her feel wanted. Of course, she told herself, she was probably imagining it. Men didn’t go out of their way to meet a small town woman with a child.
At the top of the stairs, she entered the bathroom, whirling in front of the full length mirror, keeping her eyes on her reflection as she spun around. Her new figure looked good. She had been without sex for so long, she wondered what it would be like.
She unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off with a fluid motion. Her jeans and panties followed. She kicked them out of the bathroom and shivered into the shower. It wasn’t cold, but goosebumps ran up, down and around her body. The hot shower failed to calm her. She was excited.
She shampooed her hair and rinsed. Conditioned her hair and rinsed. Added more conditioner, shaved her legs, rinsed again. Changed blades, shaved again. Shut off the water, toweled off. Dried her hair, smiled at the mirror. She was ready.
Ready but naked, she laughed to herself.
She padded out of the bathroom to her bedroom. She thought for an instant about what to wear, then selected a lavender silk blouse and tight CK jeans. She decided against bra, panties or panty hose.
She slid her bare feet into a beige pair of low heels and dashed down the stairs. Only thirty minutes had passed since she’d hung up the phone. An hour to go. Forever.
“ Wait a minute,” she told herself out loud. “What am I doing? I’m not that kind of woman!” Never had she planned on sex before a date. And this wasn’t a real date. It was dinner, nothing more.
She marched back upstairs, unbuttoning the silk blouse as she took the steps. She shucked it off as she entered the bedroom. Then she dropped the CKs. Moving toward her dresser, she thought that maybe she was going a little crazy. A year and a half without a man was a long time. From her top drawer she found a frilly bra and matching cotton panties. The next drawer down yielded a cotton Hawaiian print dress. She put it on, then plucked an elastic out of a box on top of the dresser and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
A horn honked. He was early. Grabbing her purse on her way to the door, she hoped she wasn’t doing something stupid. All thoughts of a smooth prince vanished when she saw the dusty Ford. She put on a brave smile and jumped in the car. He honked the horn, she thought, he didn’t even come to the door.
“ Hi,” he said, “I’m a little early.”
“ That’s okay, I was ready.”
“ I didn’t see any sense pacing the motel room waiting, so I grabbed the bull by the horns and here I am.”
“ I’m glad you did. I was a little anxious myself.”
“ Anxious? I wasn’t anxious, I was sweating. I haven’t been on a date since my wife died fifteen years ago.”
“ Really, Sam? It’s been eighteen months for me. Eighteen months since my divorce, but you can’t expect me to believe that you haven’t been with a woman in fifteen years.”
“ I didn’t say I hadn’t been with a woman. I said I hadn’t been on a date.”
“ You have been with a woman then?”
“ Well sure, a woman here and there that I might have met in a bar, but when you wake up next to someone you don’t know, who couldn’t care less if you were alive or dead, it hardly qualifies as a date.”
“ And when was the last time you met a woman in a bar, here or there?” Judy laughed. She was beginning to like Sam Storm. His honesty was refreshing.
“ So long ago I can’t remember.” He laughed back.
He drove straight to the Tampico Diner, taking the alley shortcut off Kennedy, like he’d lived all his life in Tampico.
“ How did you know about the short cut?”
“ Whenever I come to a new town I make a habit of getting the lay of the land. I like to know my way around.”
He parallel parked in front of the diner and jumped out of the car. He had her door open before she started to reach for the handle. A very interesting contradiction, she thought. He honks me out of the house, but he springs out to open the door. Mr. Storm was consistently inconsistent.
They spent the next three hours eating, drinking and talking about everything under the sun. He told her about his hopes and dreams, his successes and failures, his beliefs and fears, but he also listened. It was a two way conversation.
“ This has been one of the nicest evenings I’ve had in a long time,” she told him as they were getting ready to go.
“ I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“ I don’t eat out often, in fact, I don’t eat out at all. This was a real treat for me.”
“ I still think we should have brought your son,” he said.
“ I tried, but he didn’t want to come.” Judy was impressed with this man. Not many men would want a seven-year-old boy along on a dinner date.
“ Why not?”
“ He’s staying at a friend’s in town. It had been planned for a long time.” She wondered why she’d told him that. Was she unconsciously trying to tell him that nobody was home at her house.
“ Would you like another drink before we leave?”
“ I don’t think so. I’m ready if you are.”
“ I’m ready.” He signaled the waiter and paid the bill with a credit card. Then he got up from the table, came around to her chair and eased it back as she rose.
“ Very gallant,” she said.
“ Your arm, my lady,” he said, offering his. She took it and they made their way out of the diner to the parking lot and his brown Ford Granada.
“ You know, from our conversation on the boat, I would have pictured you in a flashy sports car,” she said as he unlocked the passenger door for her.
“ Why is that?” He seemed amused.
“ You seem so independent, in control, a sports car kind of guy.”
“ Well, I guess I like all this pig iron around me. No question if I get in an accident with one of those little Jap cars who the winner is going to be.”
For a second she felt a twinge. Was that a racist statement? She hoped not, he was such a caring man, she couldn’t imagine that it was.
As if answering her thoughts he said, “I hope I didn’t sound like I have a problem with the Japanese, I don’t. I just don’t like tiny, tinny cars. I spent a good deal of my Army time in Germany in a tank and I guess it rubbed off. I feel safer in a big heavy clunker.”
“ I can understand that,” she said, getting into the car. She leaned back into the worn Naugahyde and closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so good.
“ We’re here,” he said.
“ What?” she opened her eyes.
“ You fell asleep.”
“ I’m sorry.”
“ Don’t be. You don’t snore.”
“ Would you like to come in for a drink?”
“ I was hoping you’d ask.” He seemed tense to her.
“ What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“ Happier times,” Sam Storm said.
“ And times aren’t happy now?”
“ They’re getting there.” He smiled, getting out of the car. He walked around to her side and opened the passenger door.
“ I don’t think I’ve ever known a man that’s done that for me,” she said.
“ A lady pretty as you should never have to open her own doors.”
“ Why thank you,” Judy said, leading him up the walk to the front door. She fumbled with her keys at the porch as he stood by and watched. “Got it.” She opened the door.
Once inside he reached for her shoulder, spun her around and covered her lips with his. She tried to protest, but he hugged her to him and it was all she could do to breathe. She reached her hand up to his shoulders and was starting to push away, when she felt his hand cup her buttocks and pull her in to him. She gasped when she felt his hardness.
He broke away from the kiss and lowered his mouth to her ear, “Will you obey me?”
Judy knew that she was at a crossroads. Something from down deep told her to say yes, or else, and besides she told that inner voice, a part of her wanted to submit to this man.
“ What do you want?” she asked.
“ Music, something slow.” He opened his arms to let her go to the stereo.
She toyed with the idea of running, the situation was getting out of control, but realistically, she asked herself, how far could she get. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, and still there was that part of her that wanted to submit, to abandon her problems and worries and wallow in a night of sexual pleasure.
She went through her CDs and decided on Saxuality by Candy Dulfer, a soft, soothing saxophone piece.
“ I like that,” he said.
“ So do I.”
“ Dance.”
“ With you?”
“ No, with the music.” He crossed over to an easy chair and sat down. “I want to watch you.”
She looked into his eyes and saw a touch of evil and started to dance. Whatever this man wanted, she decided, she would do.
She closed her eyes and started to sway with the music, moving her hips with the rhythm. Humming along with the saxophone, she tried to imagine that she was dancing for Rick Gordon, surprised that his image planted itself in her mind. She smiled coyly, kicked off her shoes and began moving with the music.
She was getting into it when he said, “Take off your dress.”
Without opening her eyes or breaking her rhythm, she reached and grabbed her dress below the waist and lifted it over her head. She continued to dance, clad only in her bra and panties. She knew he could see her nipples and pubic hair through the thin fabric and she was both thrilled and terrified.
She reached behind her head, swaying with the music, and took out her ponytail. She swung her head back and forth, fanning her hair and waiting for his next command. She felt goosebumps on her skin and a tingling sensation running up and down her spine. She was dancing on the edge, sliding on a razor with no end in sight, more alive than she could remember.
Now she knew what freefall felt like, the stark terror of wondering if the chute would open or if she would Roman candle into the earth. She had no idea where this night would lead or how it would end, but she knew she would remember it always.
“ Take off the bra.”
She felt her smile broaden, in spite of her reservations, as she reached behind her back and undid the clasp. She gasped as her breasts sprang free and began to wonder what this big man would be like in bed.
She started to think about Rick in a sexual way about two months after Ann died, but she was tired of waiting for him to come home. This man was here now, and he obviously wanted her. Her fear was gone, she was enjoying herself and she was going to enjoy herself even more.
“ Play with your tits.”
She opened her eyes, meeting his dark glare, and she widened her smile, showing her perfect teeth. Then she did a slick bounce, bouncing her breasts like buoys on the water. She cupped one in each hand, pointing the nipples at him and she gently squeezed, moaning along with the saxophone.
Then she started to involuntarily undulate her hips. She felt her panties start to dampen as the orgasm approached. It hit her hard, almost knocking her over. She opened her mouth and let out a pleasure scream. She was unashamed and unable to stop. She stayed with the music till the orgasm ran its course, then started to slow as the rhythm slowed.
“ Take off your panties and keep dancing.”
She pushed them down, stepped out of them and faced him totally nude. She raised her hands toward the ceiling, spread her legs and swayed her hips, letting the jazzy sound rule her. Never in her wildest fantasies did she think that a man’s cold stare could make her come.
“ Play with your cunt.”
She lowered both hands to her pubic region, inserting two fingers of her left hand, massaging herself with the beat.
“ I’m going to do it again,” she moaned. “It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming.” Then she screamed and collapsed to her knees, keeping her fingers in place, eyes locked all the while on the big man’s steel grays.
Satisfied, but wanting more, she watched as Sam Storm stood and stripped off his shirt. He was a muscular man who obviously worked out. His biceps bulged without trying. His stomach was as flat as a high school athlete’s and he had a thin mat of dark hair on his chest which accented his masculinity. She was a little afraid, a lot excited and she wanted to run her fingers through those hairs.
He kicked off his loafers and bent to take off his socks, while she watched, salivating like a dog in heat, all fear gone, ruled only by excitement and anticipation, watching, wanton and wicked as his hands went to his belt buckle and unclasped it.
Still on her knees, she started massaging herself afresh as he slid his zipper down. She picked up the pace, leaving the beat of the music far behind as his pants fell, leaving him clad only in bulging Jockey shorts.
“ I want to see it,” she mouthed, eyes glued to the bulge. He must be huge, she thought.
Pumping her fingers furiously, she gaped, mouth open, making animal sounds as the Jockey’s went down and his manhood came into view.
“ Oh, my,” she moaned as the third orgasm tore into her, and despite the racking pleasure running through her body, she wondered if any woman could take in something so big.
Then it happened. Something stole into her mind, pushing her into the background. All pleasure left her body as she fought to stay in control. A tortured pain ripped into her brain, causing a scream that had nothing to do with ecstasy or euphoria to shoot out of her mouth.
And then she was gone.
“ Smell-your-fear,” Sam Storm said.
“ Smell yours!” Judy Donovan said.
“ I don’t understand,” Storm said.
“ We’ve met before, you and I.” She glared into his eyes.
“ No,” he croaked.
“ We have, and we’ll meet again.” She sensed his fear. “I’m going to the bathroom to clean up. When I get back, be gone.”
He was out the door before she started the shower.
She felt the water, prickly cold, cascading down her back. She reflexively grabbed the hot water spigot to warm up the beating spray. She was in the shower, safely enclosed by the stone brown tiles and the sliding glass door. Familiar surroundings, but how did she get there?
She remembered the dinner and remembered that maybe she’d had too much to drink. She remembered leaving the restaurant. After that everything was a blank. Except for that horrible black out.
She was revolted. She must have had a lot more to drink than she thought. Blacking out was a new experience for her, and one she didn’t want to ever repeat again. She felt used, abused and incredibly thirsty. She raised her mouth to the spray and drank, hoping that the nauseated feeling would vanish with her thirst. It didn’t.
She thought of Sam Storm, charming and delightful. She remembered the tempting thoughts she had of enticing him to her bed and she realized she was sore. So she did have sex with him, and from the way she felt it must have been wonderful.
“ Damn,” she muttered. Wonderful sex and she couldn’t remember and over a year without. Did she politely resist, then let him persuade her or did she submit willingly and jump straight into bed? She wished she could remember.
She opened the shower door slightly and reached out for the shampoo. She poured a generous amount on her wet hair and soaped it thoroughly. Then with a soapy hand, she rubbed herself between her legs and winced. She really was sore. She vowed never to drink again and she wondered if she would ever see Mr. Sam Storm again.
She rinsed herself off and stepped out onto the cold tile. She was kind of glad the mirror was covered with steam, because she wasn’t in the mood to look at herself and she was afraid that tonight she might not be the fairest of them all.
She toweled herself off, wrapped the towel around her hair, turban style, then padded into the bedroom and was startled to see the bed still made up. She’d expected it to be rumpled with the covers and pillows tossed on the floor. Where had she done the deed if not in the bedroom?
Trying to puzzle it out, she left the bedroom, crossed the hall and went into the living room, where she found her clothes strewn all over the floor.
Did she grab him, pull him down on top of her and do it right here on the floor? She didn’t think so, more than likely she walked in alone, drunk, tore her clothes off and made straight for the shower. Therefore, she concluded, they must have gone to Sam’s motel after dinner for fun and games and after they were finished, he probably dropped her at the door without coming in.
He probably didn’t want to be here in the morning when J.P. came home. What a gentleman, she thought.
Maybe it would all come back to her after a good night’s sleep.
She made her way back to the bedroom, satisfied that she had the evening figured out and eager to hit the pillows. She turned down the bed, turned off the lights, unwrapped the turbaned towel, shucked the robe, climbed between the sheets, and wondered why she was thinking about Rick Gordon as she dozed off to a deep, dreamless sleep.