1
Jeroen was disconcerted to find a sleek Merc convertible slow down beside him on the narrow road; he became mildly irritated when cyclists behind him impatiently rang their bells and cursed. They were unable to pass him or the woman in her car, so a queue soon formed.
‘I know you,’ the woman called out to him, her gaze flitting from him to the road ahead, a graceful sweep of one hand clearing the tangle of her greying, ash-blonde hair from her lightly made-up face. ‘Pull in for a moment, please…I know you from the boat yard. I hope you remember me?’ Bright bangled bracelets slid over the wrinkled skin of her arms. The woman’s face was deeply tanned.
Intrigued, and bothered by the curses that came his way, Jeroen did as was asked of him. He came to a stop in what also passed for a bus-halt. If she blocked it, that would be her problem.
Jeroen Janssen worked at ‘Motor and Sail,’ one of Hoorn’s premier boatyard and moorings licence holders. He was undoubtedly obsessed by boats, and sail craft in particular. If he, and a few colleagues, wasn’t evaluating a client’s boat, before it was returned into their owner’s faltering care, he would seize every opportunity to cruise the Ijssel Meer. He would take in not only the sight of the shore and the unending skies above him, but he would also be alert to the possibility of sudden changes in the weather, the rise of short and tempestuous waves in this shallow sea that were brought on by freshening winds.
It was then that his seamanship was tested to the limit, and the work that the yard had done proved itself; that a client’s money would have been well spent. He would shorten sail, reef it and seek shelter, or the cruiser’s engines would be accelerated and te craft turned for home.
He was only twenty-five and knew already the path that his life was to follow, his obsession with boats to be satisfied at every opportunity and with whoever asked it of him. It was still way out of reach, but his dream was to be the proud owner of his own sailing boat, and where he could deploy his skills in fitting out the interior just as he wanted. In the meantime, he would meet the demands of any owner who laid a claim on his attention and time.
He worked hard, saved hard…and he didn’t miss a trick when it came his way, either. The woman’s name defeated him for now. But then, he met so many in the company, of their well-heeled husbands, lovers, or temporary distractions from life and the passing of the years, that not all of them registered.
This one, however, hooked his interest; the unfaltering look of her eyes upon him; the clamp of the seat belt; the red of her fingernails and lipstick. She was class, even if something of a painted lady.
He managed to stand by her car and glance in at the woman, the doubts slowly drifting away as he remembered a woman whose husband owned a sloop of some merit.
‘What can I do for you?’ he smiled on giving her an appraising glance. A soft mauve halter neck top flattered and shaped her figure. He saw her slender legs that some shorts failed to fully conceal. A mass of jewellery was worn about her wrists; she fussed over a tangle of colourful beaded necklaces that hung down her front as if to draw the eye to what lay beneath them.
In his case, it had worked. Jeroen felt that she carried it off only too well, the apparent need to engage his attention upon her but the circumstances somewhat surreal. Why not wait until they got to the boatyard?
‘I remember you talking to my late husband…Martin Koopman. You went out of your way to help him…both of us, to restore our boat. Your manager wasn’t so happy, I seem to recall…’
‘Capella’…that was the boat’s name,’ he grinned. ‘How could I forget?’ He remembered the ribbing that his mates at work had given him whenever he was seen in their company, and particularly hers. She had changed, lost some weight he now saw.
‘Right…so you do remember me!’
‘Yes, but this isn’t the place to reminisce, misses Koopman…’
‘Marie, call me Marie…’
‘Yes, well…Marie, it’s nice to meet you again.’ He made to push off, angled his bicycle to make that possible.
‘Wait, er…?’
‘Jeroen…’
‘Well, Jeroen…I still have the sloop but haven’t got the money to simply hand it over to your yard to fix it. It would help if you came and looked at it…perhaps took it for a sail and gave me an opinion on what I may have to face in getting it fixed?’
‘Me?’ he couldn’t help but ask and in genuine surprise. It must be an impulsive decision she had come to. Jeroen looked behind him. A bus was approaching, its progress slowed by the traffic. ‘We’ll have to split…you’re soon going to aggravate the bus driver.’ He pointed and saw Marie look up into her rear-view mirror. She then noted his renewed glances upon her once more.
She pouted those red lips of hers in acknowledgement of what had just played out between them.
‘Come by the marina tomorrow, could you, Jeroen? We could take it from there…say, ten o’clock? digitalbahis yeni giriş We’d have the whole day then…’
He couldn’t help but laugh out. ‘You seem to be counting on me being free…’
‘Well, aren’t you?’ she glanced in the mirror again. ‘I’m going and I expect you to be there! Oh…it’s berth thirty.’
‘I would have found you…wherever you were.’
‘But I saw you first,’ he saw her grin; something he found somewhat troubling in a woman who, in spite of being well over fifty and her hair tinted, was still eye catching and attractive, her wrinkled skin something to wonder at. He was dismayed that the sight of her had aroused his interest and provoked wayward imaginings. Life, in one respect, had gotten to be somewhat empty and it would be interesting to see where this chance meeting took him.
He could finally pedal home to his small, rented apartment.
2
‘Well, here I am,’ Jeroen smiled, ‘and I’m on time.’
He carried a small canvas bag with some dry clothes, his choice lifejacket slung casually over one shoulder and, Marie noted, his long sandy-blonde hair slicked back from his slender face and fastened in a ponytail at his neck. He had even shaved, and his clothes were clean. Jeroen looked only too fit to her ways of seeing him.
‘And I’m enjoying the early morning sun,’ she smiled on ceasing her appraisal of him. She had thought of this sea trial on the spur of the moment, on seeing him pedaling along the road, his leg muscles firm and his purpose in getting home, in the early evening, only too clear. Her floppy sun hat was eased away, and she now stood up. ‘Is the boat as you remember it?’
‘Oh yes,’ he said on stepping aboard, deftly swinging one leg over the guardrail, then another and casting his bag onto the cabin roof. ‘The stanchions are a bit rusty, and the wires need tensioning…but otherwise….’
‘But they aren’t faults that you can’t sort out for me, however?’
‘That’s so,’ he laughed. ‘Once a customer, always a customer if you look after them well…’
She watched as Jeroen kicked off his battered deck shoes, the blue canvas faded and the laces rarely re-secured, if how he acted was anything to go by. Marie saw his large feet, the splay of his toes on the deck; his undoubted vitality and raw enthusiasm, the cast of his eyes over the boat and back to her.
‘You’ve sailed boats like these many times, I dare say…Jeroen?’ she called out as he made his way forward and studied the mast, its stays and spreaders. He then checked the winch gear at the mast’s base.
‘Yes, I have…but not with someone like you on board,’ he confessed, feeling somewhat embarrassed to be saying it. ‘You must spend all of your time on her. Your skin’s so deeply tanned.’
‘I haven’t truly been out on her in weeks. Some of my family last took me out on her last month…at the start of the season here. I sense that you’re not altogether happy with what you see…’
Jeroen took a while to reply. He was taken by the woman before him and the sight of her in those shorts and figure-hugging top that she fussed over. Marie obviously liked bright colours. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that…’
He moved past her and stepped down into the cockpit. ‘Shall I start up the engine and see how things are with that?’
‘Yes, but only if we take her out and we spend a few hours on trialing her. I’ll be crew and you can list what’s wrong with her and tell me. We may then come to some arrangement to have things put right…’
‘Well,’ he said doubtfully, ‘my people wouldn’t be impressed with me if I was caught moonlighting.’
‘Then call it a personal favour to me, Jeroen?’ she smiled, slowly, looking up at him imploringly. ‘Where’s the harm in it and who would know? I’d pay you one hundred and fifty euros for the pleasure…for your knowledge and your company.’ Marie twisted her sunhat in the slender fingers of both hands.
‘Sure, okay. The money’s secondary to just sailing a boat like this again. Yes, I’ll do it for you…’
‘And being alone with me as crew…does it bother you?’ she prompted, drawing close and lightly touching his arm to bring Jeroen’s attention back onto her. ‘I’m not as agile as I once was….’
‘We’ll work together…’
‘Well, if you’re sure?’ Marie saw him nod. ‘The sail locker’s open, so we just need to choose a jib or foresail…in these light winds.’
‘Leave that to me,’ he grinned, and made to push past her. Marie again put a restraining touch to his arm.
‘Some people call me ‘Granny,’ around here…’
‘Crazy, to look at you…and I won’t do that,’ he said in a soft voice. Jeroen glanced away. ‘Now, let’s get ready, shall we? We can talk as we go…’
Jeroen thought she had come onto him the moment she’d slowed down to talk yesterday in the craziest of places. She’d done it again, by referring to herself as ‘granny’ and giving him the eye, to see what he would make of her.
‘Have you found what we need?’ she called out, only for her to see the digitalbahis giriş fore-hatch open and a sail bag pushed through it and onto the fore deck, closely followed by Jeroen, his litheness of movement in hauling himself up and out onto the deck engaging her attention once more.
‘Come and help me?’ he beckoned.
Marie felt flattered by his engagement with her and unembarrassed enthusiasm. He was in his element, and she had him all to herself and had made it brazenly possible. His compliance pleased her.
‘I’d like that…’ she smiled, and they soon set to. ‘I’ve been very nervous going out in her on my own, or with people not experienced as my late husband was. He thought of nothing else than being on her…’
‘You’ve got me now,’ he replied, looking at the hanks and making sure the sail was fitted correctly. ‘I think we’re ready. I’ll strip off the mainsail cover…’
‘Only that,’ she quipped, ‘though it feels like it’s going to be warm today…’
‘Let me concentrate on leaving the jetty,’ he retorted. ‘Please go forward and, on my word, loosen the bow rope…I’ll deal with the spring and the stern rope…’
‘I hope the engine starts…’
‘So do I, Marie.’
It did, on a gust of blue diesel smoke. Jeroen throttled back, once he was sure everything was as expected.
Casting off, Jeroen thought he had a bit of a reputation to compete with, but he didn’t know the half of it. Marie was seen to pull the fore sheets down each side of the cabin roof and lay them by the winches on each side of the cockpit. She then sat down on the starboard side stern bench; its wooden struts polished smooth.
‘Well, the day’s begun for us,’ Marie said, wonderingly, and on looking up at him; one hand held to her hair before she fastened a bandana that soon kept the unruly, curled tangles in place.
‘In no time at all.’ The tan on her skin, her shapeliness, and familiar ways with him, were impossible to ignore. Jeroen stood with his feet planted firmly and held the tiller until he met her look upon him. He soon took the hint. ‘I’ll sit down here beside you…’
‘Yes, do that. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you agreed to be with me like this and to check out the boat.’ She put a hand to the skin of his thigh and met Jeroen’s startled look. ‘I’ve seen how you look at me, Jeroen…at me…at a woman old enough to…’
He moved to put the fingers of one hand to her lips. ‘Old enough to still have her hopes and reality become one. Who’s to know if it were to happen?’
He saw her nod. Jeroen met a slow kiss.
‘Thank you for doing this,’ she was heard to whisper.
Jeroen soon did as she asked of him; they sailed until they could lay anchor, in a safe place, a few klicks down the coast from Hoorn. He watched Marie step lightly, in her bare feet over the deck and drop the main sail. She then brushed past him and went into the cabin, te brush of his fingers to her warm legs not stopping her.
‘I guess that you’ve had your pick of women and doing it on boats?’ she called up to him. He heard the clink of glass.
‘No, far from it…’
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Here, you’d better drink this…to get you into the mood.’
He took the small glass of Dutch gin that Marie held out to him, and with a wistful look in her eyes. He watched the woman knock it back in one gulp and felt obliged to do the same, even though he hated the stuff.
‘Fucking and boats isn’t in my job spec,’ he now told her, directly, as he watched Marie unfasten the strap of her halter neck blouse. ‘But you do look good in that.’
Marie knew that it flattered her figure so and left little for him to imagine.
‘My dear, late husband and I fucked on this boat and whenever we went out in it…on deck in sun and rain, under the stars, even in the water…but that was too cold to make it special.’
‘I’ll have to take your word on it.’
Jeroen really wasn’t so sure that he wished to be informed of her past love life and all that Marie had enjoyed on Capella, every last detail, that he began to understand, Marie might disclose if he gave her the least encouragement.
The look of the woman, and his love of boats, had turned his head; made him lose sight of what had been really going on all along. Marie drew close.
‘Ease up, Marie…please?’ he began, but Marie pressed her firm breasts against him as she sought greater intimacy in her claims upon him; touches that he sought to fend off until she gave voice to what was really on her mind.
‘We’re out on the water…safely at anchor…so, how about doing it with me…having a fuck? There would be another hundred Euros in it for you and you’d be helping me relive old times…meet my needs if you’re any good at it.’
He snapped his finger. ‘Do it just like that? We meet one day and then the next, we…you know?’
‘Yes, why not? These are modern times and I have my needs just as you so obviously do. I felt that way the minute I saw you yesterday, on your bike and you remembered digitalbahis güvenilirmi who I was.’
Jeroen choked on the dregs of his Genever and put his glass on the small shelf beside him. ‘Jeez, if it isn’t the gin then it’s you and your wants…’
‘I sure want to know you, Jeroen…believe me.’ She saw that he had gotten his breath back and met his appraising looks upon her body once more. She pulled down her camisole top so that the tautened fabric outlined her breasts and belly so much better. ‘I…I can still bring something to a man, you know?’
He nodded, soon responding to Marie’s touches by offering those of his own; lingering, questing touches to her waist and belly. She pressed against him and held his head to her breasts, squirmed as he buried his face between them. His warm breaths were soon felt through the thin fabric..
‘Listen, Marie…?’
‘You don’t have to, and our agreement to test the boat doesn’t cover this arrangement if we were to reach it…but…but we could just see how it goes?’
‘Wait…just wait a moment!’ he called out yet not meaning it.
The woman had knelt before him, on the thin cabin carpet, and began to fumble for the zip of his shorts, already misshapen following her slow claims upon him. His prick strained against his briefs.
He reached down to cup her face in his hands, knowing that it would be something new to experience and to tamp a shamelessly horny old woman and to learn of it with her.
‘You really could have warned me, Marie.’
‘You really should have understood yourself better,’ she smiled, kissing him for only an instant before devoting her attention to all that he would bring to her. He lifted his butt off the seat and shuddered as she pulled his shorts and briefs off him, heard the soft gasp of wonder as his prick sprang free. ‘You wonder…to feel what you do for me….’
‘It’s easy to do!’ he gasped, believing in it now, what was to happen between them. Marie looks amazing, for her age, her certainty of wanting him matched by his flaring desire.
As she worked on him, Jeroen tugged at her camisole top; had Marie draw it over her body until her breasts were exposed to his gaze. They were firm and perfectly formed. ‘Something else that your late husband spent his money on…are they?’
‘Yes…now stay still,’ Marie mumbled as she really set to work on him.
Jeroen leant back on the seat and closed his eyes; murmured in pleasure as Marie’s fingers and mouth did their best to please him. It was no good trying to imagine one of his usual lovers attending to his needs. This older woman knew how to bring it to him, his gasps of pleasure met by the soft sound of her sucks upon him, te progress of her tongue over his length before her lips cradled his domed tip, her tongue circling it..
‘You’ll have to slow down, woman…or…or I’ll just burst!’
‘Wait one, skipper!’ she laughed and soon stepped out of her shorts and panties.
‘You wonder!’ he couldn’t help but tell her. Marie’s body remained a delight; she was not a wizened old woman, yet delightfully slender, narrow waisted, her skin wrinkled and softly tanned. ‘Your husband had a true mate…he had you work to stay the way you are.’
Her hands teased his hard cock and straining sac as she bent to kiss him, her actions soon interrupted by some passing boat, for its wake made Capella rise and fall and Marie along with it.
On a squeal of delight, not surprise, she landed in his arms, her breasts in his face and soon in his mouth. Marie groaned and moaned like a teenager as he sucked and fondled her. She held on to his hair tightly, squirmed as she guided him in his claims, coaxed him to lean on the floor, their positions changed.
Jeroen was hesitant about putting his face between her legs, but since she had given him the best blowjob he’d ever had, he thought he was obliged to return the woman’s favour.
He moved up between Marie’s soft thighs and just touched the edge of her spot with his flickering, probing tongue; nuzzled kisses to her thighs, only for Marie to draw him up and attend to her spot.
‘Yes! You’ll get to me right there!’ she urged breathlessly as what he did brought her on. Marie then let’s out an audible groan, gasped for breath as his tongue and fingers caressed her pussy, made her gush, his fingers sliding smoothly in and out. She gasped and gripped his head to bring it to her belly as she shuddered. ‘God…that’s so soon!’
She met his soft smile and bent to kiss him.
‘Do I go on?’
‘Don’t tease!’ Her body aches for a man’s attention. It has been a while and she needs it from him, needs release from months of frustration, her body aching for more attention. She needs more sexual relief, and she desperately needs it, and now. She must finish what they’ve started. Jeroen’s fingers aren’t going to cut it. Nothing in the world could make her happier at the moment other than this young man’s penis lodged deep inside her.
Marie’s body jerked into the air as if she was a puppet on strings. Her hands once more tugged at his hair, but with even more enthusiasm. Jeroen used his fingers to play with her pink folds and to build the mood; he then licked the whole length of her wet crack over and over. Her body vibrated like someone going into a fit and she began to yell.