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Winchester Harbor book cover

Winchester Harbor
Book One of the Full Sails Series
Wes Boyd
©2011, ©2013

Chapter 7

The next morning Nate stopped off for breakfast, as usually seemed to happen. This time he only had a couple customers with him, and I guess he felt like he didn’t need any help that day, because he didn’t ask for me to go along with him again – maybe he felt like he’d taken me away from Barb enough as it was. He did, however, have a paper bag with a couple books in it. “Coast Guard small boat seamanship manuals,” he explained. “Rules of the road, buoys and markings, stuff like that. It’d be a big help if you were a little more familiar with them. I’ll work with you on the practical stuff, but if you do the book work it’ll make life go simpler.”

“I guess you were serious when you said you want me to go out with you again,” I said as I took the books from him.

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “It’s probably not going to be a regular thing, but it’ll be nice to have someone available now and then who knows what they’re doing.”

I thanked him for the books, of course, and promised to give them some serious study. It was actually hard to watch the Chinook III pull out of the dock and head down the channel; I sort of wished I was going with them. Later that morning, I had a few minutes of free time and leafed through the books – they were, as he had said, basic seamanship stuff. I’d had a smattering of it when I’d been in the Navy, but as a deckhand that information usually hadn’t been much of my concern, so I hadn’t paid much attention to it.

Over the next few days I went through the books in slow parts of the day and in the evenings when I wasn’t otherwise occupied, which often meant the hours before the sign was turned off. In the hours after that, I had one of the three girls with me more often than not. It was not every night by any means, and rarely the same girl two nights in a row, though Debby was a more frequent visitor to my room than the other two. I never figured out how they decided who was going to visit me on any given night or how they worked out conflicts, though Susie had mentioned a coin flip that one time. However they worked it out, it was fine with me, as if I had much choice in the matter.

I don’t want to say it became dull, because it didn’t. They were three different girls with three different sets of desires and three different ways of reacting to things. To be honest, I learned a lot from each of them and almost always had fun doing it.

As Debby had hinted, and Susie had come right out and said, Annette had a kinky side to her – well, not that they all didn’t, but Annette’s kinks were more pronounced. She seemed to like things being done to her whether she asked for it or not, and being made to like it. I was a little confused at first about how to deal with that, until Susie got me off to the side one time and told me that Annette had admitted a few fantasies to her. She told me that it would be nice if I could help play some of them out without being too brusque about it. That led to things like tying her wrists to the corners of the bed before going at her hard. I didn’t hear anything out of Annette that sounded like a cry for mercy, so I guess she enjoyed herself. In fact, Susie told me that, in the after-action report that apparently got passed around among the three girls when I was out of hearing, Annette said she really had liked it.

I know Barb was involved in those discussions, too; I was a little amazed that she’d let her daughters do such things in her sight. She said one time that the girls were over eighteen and living away from home most of the year, so maybe it was better if they got the edge taken off them by someone she knew and trusted. It would be better than them picking up some unknown someone over at Dot’s Bar or something to do the job. After thinking about it, I thought I saw her point, but it still seemed a little strange, not that I had any room to argue.

That was one thing that I don’t want to say irritated me, but I was always aware of: there were no secrets among the girls about what had happened in bed with me the night before or the week before. I don’t mean in just general terms either, since occasionally one of the girls would tell me that something I’d done to another one sounded like it had been a lot of fun, or occasionally not as much fun, too. If I was looking at the whole improbable deal as a learning experience, I was getting a lot of useful feedback.

Things fell into a routine for the next few weeks, which was most of the month of May. The weekends got steadily busier, and now we were starting to get boats waiting in line at the fuel dock, and when I wasn’t busy with that, I was trying to help out where I could in other places. Some weekend mornings there were people waiting at the fuel dock when it opened, and I’d hardly have a chance to grab lunch, other than Debby handing me a sandwich when I went up to the snack bar to run a credit card slip.

The weekdays still weren’t quite as busy; about one day a week I got a “day off,” which meant going out with Nate on the fishing boat. This really was a day off from the routine around the snack bar and fuel dock. Several times Nate quizzed me on the stuff that I’d learned out of the Coast Guard handbooks, and he seemed satisfied with the answers I gave him, so I must have been getting something out of them that he thought useful. Every time we went out he’d add some practical knowledge to my seamanship, and it was a real thrill one time toward the end of the month when he let me take the boat away from the dock, down the channel and out through the jetties by myself. He was standing next to me until we got out on the big lake, of course, but we were mostly talking about fishing and stuff like that.

There was one time I remember particularly well. We were trolling well offshore when I saw a big lake freighter come over the horizon. I was able to tell early on that there was no danger of collision, and we weren’t going to even get closer to it than maybe half a mile, but it was dragging a big wake behind it. Without any prompting from Nate I started a slow turn to be able to cross the wake at right angles, doing my best to take it easy so we wouldn’t tangle any fishing lines. We bounced around a little when we crossed the wake, but it must have had some positive effect on the lures, because we had not one, but two rods go off as we rode out the wake. It was the first time I’d been aboard when we’d had a double on, and there was some serious scrambling going on down in the cockpit for a while getting the other lines in. Then, I had a little scrambling myself trying to keep the stern more or less toward the fish. I felt like I’d accomplished something with that, and Nate said I had, too.

I wouldn’t have minded getting out on the boat with Nate more than I did. I really enjoyed being on the water, and I felt like I was learning something. To be honest, I was still pretty much a green hand, but I was learning rapidly and feeling like I was actually contributing something.

In that neck of the woods it can sometimes get hot in May, and it did in the last few days before Memorial Day. Inexplicably, it was very slow that afternoon; I was giving the rest rooms a good cleaning while Annette was sitting at a table by the window pounding on her little typewriter. Barb and Debby and Susie were piddling around on little snack bar chores that didn’t really need to be done, just to look like they were staying busy.

Just when it was beginning to look like there was serious danger of someone falling asleep, Nate’s wife Marge drove in. I’d met her by this time, though I didn’t know her very well. With her heart problems she had good days and bad, and most of the time stayed around the house doing not much of anything. She and Barb got talking. About the time I finished up with the rest rooms, Barb piped up and said, “Jake, it’s so dull around here this afternoon there’s no point in all of you kids sticking around here. I don’t see any reason the bunch of you couldn’t go down to the beach for a while.”

That perked up Annette’s attention so much she was actually willing to abandon her typewriter. “It’s still pretty cold to go swimming,” she said. “But I could stand the exercise.”

“Yeah,” Susie agreed. “I could stand to do something different.”

“You sure you don’t need me?” Debby asked Barb.

“No, go ahead. It’s not going to get busy and Marge can help me out a little if I really need it.”

“Hey, girls,” I said. “Maybe we’d better get out of here before Barb changes her mind.”

“Good enough,” Susie said. “It’s a nice day. Let’s walk so we can enjoy it.”

It didn’t take long for the four of us to head to our rooms to change clothes. In only a matter of a couple minutes I had my swim trunks on, along with a T-shirt and deck shoes, and a towel in my hand. I came through the door of my room to see Susie waiting for me. She was wearing a one-piece swimsuit that all but knocked my eyes out – black, of course; she almost always wore black, unless she wanted to accent something or was wearing grubbies, and often they were black, too. The swimsuit was cut conservatively up top, although there were a couple of fabric ruffles that made it look like she really had a chest. The thing of it was that the leg holes were cut about up to her waist, making her spindly legs seem about as tall as she was, which was pretty damn tall.

In the past I’d seen her wearing a rather tiny black bikini while she’d been lying out in the sun – she liked her tan – but there was something about that one-piece that really grabbed my eye. “Wow, you look hot,” I said.

“You like this?” she said with a grin, showing it off to me a little. Although none of the three girls were exactly bad looking, none of them were what most people would call knockout beauties, though Susie, wearing that swimsuit, came the closest.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Don’t ask me why, but somehow that seems more, uh, feminine than a bikini.”

“It’s not quite as good as a bikini for getting a tan,” she said, then changed the subject. “Are you up for a little fun with Annette?”

“So long as it doesn’t get too personal out in the open with the four of us together,” I said.

“Not that kind of fun. Well, not really, though maybe we ought to get together in your room some night,” she replied, with a laugh.

“Now, that might be fun,” I agreed, as Debby came out of her room, wearing a rather small and thin light yellow bikini that tied at the sides. With the size of her chest, and in fact her general shape, I wouldn’t have really said that she had a bikini body, but that one really displayed all her charms nicely. It almost seemed like she was about to burst out of that top, which proportionally didn’t cover all that much.

“We about ready to go?” Debby asked.

“Still waiting on Annette,” Susie said with a shrug. “You know her, first to know, last to go.”

We didn’t have to wait long for Annette. She was with us in a minute or two, wearing a really tiny light blue string bikini – I mean, even the strings were nothing much. Now, if Debby didn’t have a bikini body, Annette really didn’t – she was just chubby, compared to Debby’s well-rounded curves. She could get away with it in our group, but it would have been a little too much – well, a little too little – on a public beach. “I’m here, let’s get going,” she said, leading the way.

While I’d been down the channel on the boat with Nate before, I hadn’t ever gone down to the beach. We followed the road on past the Channel Stop. We went past several cottages between the road and the channel, most of them unoccupied at the moment, though one of the girls said they’d probably have people in them when the weekend came, and probably afterward. After several cottages, the road bent away from the channel, so we turned onto a small path that looked to me like it was going to come out near the breakwater.

Susie explained to me that while most of the lakeshore was privately owned, it mostly had cottages facing the lake, but this little patch was public land, part of the jetty system. It was where the locals from Winchester came if they wanted to swim in the lake or just hang out on the beach. We were the only ones there, and couldn’t even see any cottages.

The lake was calm, with just some small waves lapping in. The first thing we did was go down to see how badly we wanted to go swimming. After all, the lake water was still pretty cold, and pretty quickly all of us decided without discussion that getting wet wasn’t at all appealing. “Well, I suppose we can just hang out on the beach,” I said. “It doesn’t matter, since I like hanging out with you girls, anyway.”

“And something else, don’t forget that,” Debby said with a grin as we walked back uphill a little bit to where the sand was a little drier.

“I know something we can do,” Susie said. She walked up into the edge of the trees, bent over, and came back with a short-handled spade. She handed it to me and said, “Jake, dig a hole.”

“You want to get buried in the sand? You know that’s not going to do much for your tan.”

“Something like that. Now get digging.”

“Now I see why you brought me along,” I said as I found a likely spot and started pitching the sand. “You bought a guy along to do the grunt work.”

“Yeah, something like that, too.”

The sand was light and it didn’t take me long to get a pretty good hole, though it was a little loose so the hole was a little cone-shaped. “That’ll do,” she said finally. With a little bit of a sharp tone to her voice she added, “Annette, you first.”

“OK, I guess,” Annette said, somehow managing to mix dubious and eager in her reply. It wasn’t easy to get her sitting down in the hole, since her butt had to go down a long way, but in a few seconds she was down in it.

“Put your hands at your sides,” Susie ordered. Annette barely had them there when Susie started to push sand back into the hole. Debby helped, and I pitched in with the shovel. Pretty soon, we had the sand mounded up over her, with only Annette’s head and feet sticking out. “You all right?” Susie asked.

“I guess,” Annette replied. “I sure can’t move anything, though.”

“Good,” Susie said, and went over to kneel down by one of her feet. “Debby, help me out, will you?”

I just stood back and watched as the two girls pulled off Annette’s deck shoes. I could see what was coming now, and I was pretty sure that Annette knew what was coming, although there was no way she could have seen her feet over that mound of sand. “Oh, would you look at those cute little feetsies,” Debby exclaimed. “Susie, do they look ticklish to you?”

“I don’t know,” Susie mugged. “Let’s find out.”

“Oh! God! No! No tickling, pleeease!” Annette moaned. Her protests didn’t do a bit of good, since both Susie and Debby took a foot and started in on the soles with their fingers.

I can’t really do justice to the scream that Annette let out. Let’s just say that it was so loud that it should have knocked bats off their rafters half a mile away. That tailed off into blubbering, begging the two girls to stop in words that weren’t entirely clear. She waved her feet around the little that she could, trying to get away from those tickling fingers, and waved her head around as she begged hopelessly for relief.

By now I’d realized that this was a well-planned setup. Susie had told me about Annette’s fantasies, though not in any detail. This had to have been one of them. It was not a spur-of-the-moment thing. Susie had to have planted that shovel out there earlier, and as far as that went Barb had to have been in on the deal, maybe even Marge to some degree. I figured Debby was just there for the fun of it, though she might have been in it up to her ears too. Me, I was probably just there to do the digging, so I just decided to sit back and enjoy myself.

After several minutes Annette was really feeling the effects. She was still waving her head and feet around, trying not very successfully to get words of protest out among the gales of helpless laughter. Sweat was running down her face, her hair was messed up, and I could see she was having trouble getting her breath. I was starting to get a little worried about her, so suggested, “Maybe you ought to think about giving her a break.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Susie said in mock reluctance, and added in an evil tone, “but that just means we get to start all over again.”

Susie and Debby backed away from Annette’s feet. The buried girl was almost surprised to discover that the torment had stopped, however briefly. “Oh, God . . . ” she puffed. “Thank you . . . no more, please!”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’ll be more,” Susie said. “I think we just won’t go at it quite as hard, but we’ll just keep going and going and going . . . ”

“Oh, God, no, please!” Annette begged.

Susie and Debby gave Annette a few minutes to pull herself together, but only a few, before they started in on her again – this time taking it slower and easier, but only some. Annette was pretty close to out of her mind most of the time, and it looked pretty agonizing. She was often tickled to the point where she could barely get her breath, and at times looked like she was close to passing out, but they’d let up just enough to allow Annette to stay conscious. Occasionally either Susie or Debby would take a break, and let the other girl work on one foot or both feet.

“She sure must be enjoying herself,” Susie said at one point. “At least judging from all the laughing I’m hearing.”

“It’s just a damn shame we couldn’t have started earlier,” Debby said. “I’ll bet she’d like to go like that all day.”

I didn’t have a watch with me to tell for sure, but Susie must have left Annette buried in the sand for a couple hours, unable to move anything but her head and feet, and getting the latter tickled a lot. I honestly don’t know how Annette was able to stand it, not that she had a hell of a lot of choice, and I was really feeling sorry for her. The poor girl was going through agony!

Finally Susie decided that enough was about enough. “I suppose we ought to be heading back,” she said, pulling back from the foot she was working on. “What does anybody think? Should we dig her out now, or leave her here by herself for a while, maybe till after dinner?”

“Oh, God, please, don’t,” Annette begged.

“It’d be a shame for her to miss dinner,” Debby observed. “Besides, if we left her here, someone else might come along and tickle her feet. They might not be as nice about it as we’ve been.”

I was sure the two girls were pulling Annette’s leg, but she wasn’t so sure about it. I guess I was the softy, since I was the one that said, “Maybe we’d better dig her out. I think she’s probably had enough for one session.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Susie grinned. “Maybe the next time we could drive some stakes into the sand and tie her to them spread-eagled. That way someone could tickle her ribs, too. I’ll bet that would really drive her up the wall.”

“Maybe take her bikini off, too,” Debby added with an evil grin. “I’ll bet she’d love that.”

“Oh God . . . oh God . . . ” Annette moaned at the thought, while I got the shovel and started raking sand off of her. It took a while to dig her out, and for a while it looked like she didn’t believe it was really happening, especially a couple times when Susie “changed her mind” and suggested piling it back on her again.

Annette was a mess when we finally got her out of the hole. She was covered in sand, and it was sticking all over her since she’d sweated a lot. I used to hear my dad saying that someone “looked like they’d been drug through a knothole backwards” and I thought that was a pretty good description of how Annette looked. We had to help her out into the lake to wash some of the sand and sweat off of her. She really was a mess. We even had to take her bikini off and rinse it out at least partly because she’d pissed herself along the way; it was full of sand, too. The lake water was cold, and helped to revive her a bit, so soon she was a little more together. Not a lot more, but a little.

We didn’t stay in the lake long. We were soon back on shore, picking up the few things we’d brought with us. “Maybe we ought to fill the hole in,” I suggested.

“Naw,” Susie said. “Just leave it. Maybe we can use it on her again tomorrow.”

“Oh, God no,” Annette protested, with a voice still full of exhaustion. “I think maybe next time you ought to be the one buried in the hole and getting your feet tickled.”

“No way,” Susie grinned. “I’m not the one with the bondage fetish, and you are. Didn’t you get what you really wanted?”

“Oh, God, what an experience,” Annette shook her head. “It was fucking unbelievable.” She turned to the other girls and added, “But after you put me through that shit, I get dibs on Jake tonight. My God, I’m so horny I can’t believe it.”

I don’t think I need to say much about what happened that evening, other than to comment that while it may have been a long afternoon for Annette, it was a long night for me. We were both late getting up the next morning and still pretty worn out.

As tired as I was, I still would have liked to have been a fly on the wall and hear the stories the women swapped about that afternoon . . .

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