Time With Marcy

20. Time With Marcy

I was in the Keys to deposit my passengers, a mother-daughter team. Knowing that they’d need jobs, I had contacted a former lover, Marcy, who owns a popular bar/restaurant. Marcy had given them jobs and I owed Marcy a debt of gratitude.

I had offered her a night of anything her heart desired for taking in my passengers. She had made it clear that it was difficult for her to get away from work. Her bars were well run and very popular, packed from open till close. I knew that my chances were nil if I just showed up during open hours. So I called her first thing in the morning.

It rang three or four times and I wondered if she was avoiding me. Finally, “Hey, Sailor! What gives? I figured you’d be calling now that your girls are gone. Having to work a little harder for your nookie now, huh?”

“I don’t think of it as work, Marcy. I view it more as a game. And I’m down 2 to 0 with you. I’m setting my sights on casting off soon and I sure would like to see you before I go.”

She replied “Just the other day I was thinking about some of our escapades. Those memories reminded me of your promise. How about this: my assistant manager is scheduled to work tonight. How about I take the night off and you take me out on your Love Boat for a sunset cruise? Would that satisfy you?”

“It would make me happy. As for satisfying me … that’s up to you.”

“Ha! You’re still a scoundrel, Sailor! Haven’t changed a bit. I’ll be over before the dinner crowd descends upon us, say 4ish?”

“Wonderful. That’ll be just right.”

I spent the day cleaning, polishing, organizing and generally spiffing up the Love Boat. Marcy was special. We had spent one winter together some years ago. It started in the Florida Keys, then the Bahamas, then Jamaica before returning to the Keys. Although our romance was brief, it created so many memories that will never be forgotten.

At the appointed hour, Marcy came down the dock. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?” We engaged in an extended embrace, ending with a brief lip kiss. I put my hands on her shoulders, holding her at arms length as I examined her from head to toe.

Marcy was in her late 50s. Her shoulder length hair was dyed in an attempt to keep her beautiful auburn locks. Her face was classically beautiful, almost aristocratic in appearance. Her dark brown eyes had an unusual depth to them. She was of average height, her body well proportioned. Still firm and erect, her breasts showed no signs of middle-aged sag.