Institute," Will replied.
"How come
you own a boathouse when you don't own a boat?" Nellie asked.
"Your
uncle made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Will replied. "And it's a
place to live until I do get my own boat, which I will in the near future. In
fact, I'd be interested in buying the Isadora if you ever decide to sell."
Nellie started
sanding again. "Don't hold your breath," she said. "So, where is
your sister?"
"Kelsey's
in New York making it big as a model." Will smiled fondly at the vision of
his gangly younger sister strutting her stuff. "I'm real proud of
her."
"She must
be thin," Nellie speculated.
"She's
that all right. Like a willow branch," Will replied. When he saw Nellie
place her palm on her tummy, which was rounded in a nice way, he added,
"She's obviously not trying to attract a man since most men like a little
more substance on a woman."
"And
you?" Nellie looked at him.
A loaded
question, Will realized, and wished he could dodge it. But Nellie was staring
at him, waiting for a response. Giving a little shrug, he said, "I guess
I'm one of those males who like a little substance on a woman." He smiled.
"I'd say you're padded in all the right places."
Nellie started
sanding in quick, agitated strokes. "It's called Rubenesque," she
said.
Will couldn’t
stop the wide grin as he watched the way Nellie's nicely-rounded bottom twisted
in opposition with the movement of her ample breasts. There was no question.
Nellie was padded in all the right places, with gently tapering hips, and just
enough waist to give her a nice shape—the kind of body that made him constantly
aware she was all woman, and he was a man with a man's need. Dangerous
thoughts. Thoughts best kept in check when out at sea, if in fact, he’d be able
to keep his hands to off Nellie within
the tight confines of the Isadora . He
already had the urge. But Nellie's presence did other things, things he
couldn't allow because to do so would open him up to the danger of letting her
slip into his insular world. And there was no place for Nellie and her son
there.
***
Will noticed a
light on in the Isadora . At midnight,
he'd expected to find it dark and Nellie and Mike asleep, especially after the
exhausting hours they'd put in. They'd spent their first few days scraping,
sanding and varnishing lockers and doors. The next couple of days they'd
scoured and sealed the teakwood decks, oiled handrails, shined brass, and
scrubbed the hardwood floors. Toward the end of the week they worked outside,
scraping door and window frames in preparation for painting. Once that was
complete, and the new carpets installed, the Isadora would be the grand lady of the sea Nellie described from
her childhood.
He saw Nellie's
silhouette move past the window, then turn back and pass again, as if she were
pacing, then she disappeared from his view. Maybe she was too exhausted to
sleep. Or maybe she was having trouble with the head overflowing again and
didn't want to disturb him. A tempting thought. Nellie disturbing him the way
he'd like to be disturbed by a beautiful woman in the middle of the night. And
there was no question he needed a woman, one like Nellie, who was all woman,
from the tip of her pretty nose to the crests of her full round...
Hell.
Fantasizing about Nellie's female assets was making things worse. But
unstopping the head might alleviate his problem. A good taste of reality did
that for a man. Tugging on a pair of sweats, he descended the stairs. Through
the salon window he saw Nellie sitting on the couch, elbows propped on her
knees, chin cupped in her palms.
Grabbing his
shirt, he shrugged into it as he descended the stairs, then he hopped aboard
the boat and knocked lightly. Nellie looked up with a start. He peeked through
the window and waved. "It's just me," he assured her.
Nellie patted
her chest. "You scared me half to death," she said. "Come on
in."
Will let himself in. What caught his attention was the creamy flesh
rising and
"How come
you own a boathouse when you don't own a boat?" Nellie asked.
"Your
uncle made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Will replied. "And it's a
place to live until I do get my own boat, which I will in the near future. In
fact, I'd be interested in buying the Isadora if you ever decide to sell."
Nellie started
sanding again. "Don't hold your breath," she said. "So, where is
your sister?"
"Kelsey's
in New York making it big as a model." Will smiled fondly at the vision of
his gangly younger sister strutting her stuff. "I'm real proud of
her."
"She must
be thin," Nellie speculated.
"She's
that all right. Like a willow branch," Will replied. When he saw Nellie
place her palm on her tummy, which was rounded in a nice way, he added,
"She's obviously not trying to attract a man since most men like a little
more substance on a woman."
"And
you?" Nellie looked at him.
A loaded
question, Will realized, and wished he could dodge it. But Nellie was staring
at him, waiting for a response. Giving a little shrug, he said, "I guess
I'm one of those males who like a little substance on a woman." He smiled.
"I'd say you're padded in all the right places."
Nellie started
sanding in quick, agitated strokes. "It's called Rubenesque," she
said.
Will couldn’t
stop the wide grin as he watched the way Nellie's nicely-rounded bottom twisted
in opposition with the movement of her ample breasts. There was no question.
Nellie was padded in all the right places, with gently tapering hips, and just
enough waist to give her a nice shape—the kind of body that made him constantly
aware she was all woman, and he was a man with a man's need. Dangerous
thoughts. Thoughts best kept in check when out at sea, if in fact, he’d be able
to keep his hands to off Nellie within
the tight confines of the Isadora . He
already had the urge. But Nellie's presence did other things, things he
couldn't allow because to do so would open him up to the danger of letting her
slip into his insular world. And there was no place for Nellie and her son
there.
***
Will noticed a
light on in the Isadora . At midnight,
he'd expected to find it dark and Nellie and Mike asleep, especially after the
exhausting hours they'd put in. They'd spent their first few days scraping,
sanding and varnishing lockers and doors. The next couple of days they'd
scoured and sealed the teakwood decks, oiled handrails, shined brass, and
scrubbed the hardwood floors. Toward the end of the week they worked outside,
scraping door and window frames in preparation for painting. Once that was
complete, and the new carpets installed, the Isadora would be the grand lady of the sea Nellie described from
her childhood.
He saw Nellie's
silhouette move past the window, then turn back and pass again, as if she were
pacing, then she disappeared from his view. Maybe she was too exhausted to
sleep. Or maybe she was having trouble with the head overflowing again and
didn't want to disturb him. A tempting thought. Nellie disturbing him the way
he'd like to be disturbed by a beautiful woman in the middle of the night. And
there was no question he needed a woman, one like Nellie, who was all woman,
from the tip of her pretty nose to the crests of her full round...
Hell.
Fantasizing about Nellie's female assets was making things worse. But
unstopping the head might alleviate his problem. A good taste of reality did
that for a man. Tugging on a pair of sweats, he descended the stairs. Through
the salon window he saw Nellie sitting on the couch, elbows propped on her
knees, chin cupped in her palms.
Grabbing his
shirt, he shrugged into it as he descended the stairs, then he hopped aboard
the boat and knocked lightly. Nellie looked up with a start. He peeked through
the window and waved. "It's just me," he assured her.
Nellie patted
her chest. "You scared me half to death," she said. "Come on
in."
Will let himself in. What caught his attention was the creamy flesh
rising and
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