Tampa, Florida
Part 8

Mr Robinson wasn’t at all surprised to see me. Mark had previously phoned him to tell him that I would be aboard, and that I would earn my keep. There were a bunch of other people with Mr Robinson [“call me George”] who were introduced to me as his wife Maria, two sons Peter and Michael, their girlfriends Sally and Wendy, and his daughter Jane who was accompanied by her boyfriend Sam.

Before we even left the dock, there was a lotta talk amongst the crew about the weather and reefing – reefing had something to do with shortening sail to suit the power of windgusts, which had been forecast. Anyway, Mark suggested they reef the mainsail while we were still tied up at the marina. That was when my knot-tying experience came in pretty handy, and I soon realized that I was an important contributor to what was going on. Pretty cool, huh? I was a genuine Popeye! Woohoo!

Boats parked on either side of our yacht made it impractical to sail directly from the dock. Couldn’t have that boom swaying into the dude’s boat alongside. So the inboard engine was used to maneuver us a ways out into the bay. Then the engine was cut, the sails filled with air, and we were away!

Almost from the start, I began to appreciate why Mark had become so addicted to sailing. It was a lotta hard work, and you had to be constantly checking things and whatever, but the sensation of being silently propelled along by the force of the wind was just totally fucking awesome. It was a hushed power. An almost magical and mystical power. The only sound was the whoosh of the bow-wave as it rushed along both sides of the shiny hull, then formed a shallow depression at the stern before rising to become a small, ever-present swell.

Every now and then, I would check the stern, and watch the foamy wash that was constantly being left behind in our wake. It gave me an added appreciation of the speed of our forward movement. And it made me think about the wind. Normally, wind was something that passed you by as you remained in a fixed position. But not now. We were traveling with the wind on its journey to wherever. We were at one with the wind. It was possible to never stop traveling. Sailors from ancient times must have had those same kinda feelings of wonder as they explored the seven seas on voyages of discovery … and the unknown.

But we did stop. After about four hours of sailing, we dropped anchor in a small cove with its blue/green water and palm-tree-dotted white sandy coastline miles from anywhere. A perfect spot for lunch.

While we were eating and drinking, most of the attention was focused on Mark, probably ‘cause of his cool Safrican accent and being a foreigner. He didn’t seem to mind all the questions too much, and was sure getting plenty of gawks from the girls on board, which pissed me off a bit. I was used to being the main hunk. Oh, well… But it was fun to watch the girls getting the hots big time and trying to hide it from their boyfriends. Heh. Yep, Cody had often said that Mark was a real head-turner and he was right on the button. That dude was handsome with a capital fucking H. Whoa!

George told Mark that he had a job crewing the yacht anytime he wanted it, but if he was looking for something more permanent, or more crewing opportunities, he should ask the marina management if he could post a note on their notice board. “Owners are always looking for experienced crew,” he explained, “and I’d be happy to recommend you, son. No problem at all. You’re not afraid of hard work, you’re intelligent, and you’re a good sailor.”

“And a hunk,” I was gonna add, but thought better of it. Heh.

About an hour after lunch, I discovered that there were a couple of snorkels and goggles on board, and asked if I could borrow a pair to check out the local marine life. “You wanna come with me, Mark?”

I wasn’t sure about skinny dipping, and I knew that Mark would freak at the idea, so I decided to ask George if it was OK since he’d kinda taken a shine to me. He said I was a pretty cool knot-tyer, and also said that I was welcome aboard anytime.

“I don’t think the sight of a weenie or a butt is going to bother the girls,” he laughed, “or Maria. They’ve seen it all before. Go ahead.”

“You’re fucking worse than Cody,” Mark complained as we stood on the transom, adjusting our goggles and snorkels before jumping in. He’d made sure that no one was looking before he slid his shorts and boxers off, and tossed them onto the deck.

Woohoo! I’d seen a heap of TV docos and whatever about life underwater, but nothing could possibly have prepared me for the actual experience of seeing it with my own eyes. The endless variety of vibrant colors were straight outa something surreal; like a different world; a different planet. Even the light was different ‘cause it was traveling through water instead of air.

I had to be pretty discreet, but every so often I’d manage to position myself behind Mark so that I could check out his rosebud while he was swimming underwater in a kinda breast-stroke style. His dimpled, muscular ass cheeks would spread every time he drew his knees forward in preparation for a kick. Woohoo! Hey, gimme a break! I was curious about that kinda thing. Besides, Cody had described it a couple of times. And, yeah, it was cute. But there was no way I was ever gonna tell Mark that. Not if I wanted to keep my teeth.

One time, when we came up for air, Mark told me about the time he and Cody had SCUBA dived. “We only ever did it once, but it was awesome.” And with that, he took in more air and was back below the surface. Yep. Another opportunity for me to follow him and check out his goodies again from behind. :o)

You had to wonder about Mark. It must’ve been obvious to him that he was a head-turner who easily made a huge impression on people for several reasons. He was way smart as well as good looking. But if he was aware of it, he didn’t show it. Hey, he had an ego, sure. But it wasn’t inflated. In fact, he was kinda shy in some ways, and would get pissed off if he was getting too much attention. Well, too much of the wrong kinda attention as far as he was concerned.

I couldn’t really figure it. I kept myself fit. I worked out. I was proud of my bod, and I liked to show it off. But Mark was different in that he wasn’t an exhibitionist. And I guessed that was the irony. He didn’t need to be an exhibitionist in order to get attention. He attracted it like metal to a magnet whether he wanted it or not. Anyway, when he was sharing my room in a day’s time, I figured I’d get an opportunity to dig a little deeper into his head and try to work out what made the guy tick.

Half an hour later, Mark was hauling himself onto the transom. Yep, you guessed it. Another opportunity to check out his goodies ‘cause I was still treading water behind him.

“Hey! What the hell?” I heard him say as he peered onto the deck. Then he turned to face me. “Daniel? What the fuck have you done with my shorts?”

“Shorts? What are you talking about? I’ve been in the water with you all this time!” Then I realized what must’ve happened, and burst out laughing.

“What the fuck are you laughing at? Get up here now and go find out what happened to my shorts, sailor!”

So I hauled myself up and stood next to him on the transom. “Hey, what’s the bet one of the girls took your shorts?” Then I cracked again.

“You think so?” He reacted like I’d just delivered the worst possible news about something. “Jeez. You’re probably right. Damn!”

“Hey, what’s the biggie? Don’t answer that. The girls already know the answer to that question… or at least they wanna find out. Seriously, though, I dunno why you get so bent outa shape about being naked. It’s totally natural, man.”

“It attracts attention. The wrong kind of attention. What if one of those girls hits on me? Huh? Then what? I’ll tell you ‘then what’. The boyfriend will be pissed and it’ll be on for young and old, and I’ll be in deep shit with George. This is not a fucking joke, Daniel.”

“OK, OK. Chill for fuck sake. I’ll go find your shorts. And when they check out my dick, they’ll realize it’s better than yours, so you won’t be bothered by them anymore.”

“Check out your dick? What are you talking about? Where are your shorts?”

“Not sure.” I shrugged as I prepared to climb aboard.

“Is there a problem?” It was George’s daughter Jane, wearing a smirk a mile wide. Then she produced our shorts and undies from behind her back, plus two towels, and dangled them in mid air. “You’ll have to come get them!”

Well, it was no biggie as far as I was concerned, so I hopped onto the deck and approached the girl with my semi bouncing in all directions. “Here I am,” I grinned.

“What about Mark?”

“He’s the shy type.”

“Then he’s gonna have to hitch a ride all the way home on the transom.”

“Toss me a towel, Daniel,” the hunk ordered.

“Don’t be such a wussy boy. So who cares if Jane gets an eyeful of your python?”

Mark thought for a moment about what I’d said, then reluctantly climbed aboard. He didn’t say anything as he took a towel from Jane. He just shook his wet head as if to indicate that he wasn’t amused by juvenile jokes. Anyway, Jane seemed happy with the eyeful she’d gotten, giggled, then disappeared below deck – probably to break the news to everyone else.

“I don’t understand why people make such a big fucking deal about cocks,” Mark mumbled as he toweled his crotch and legs, then quickly dressed.

“Maybe they don’t. Maybe you’re the one who’s making the big deal.”

“Huh?”

Sailing back to port was just as awesome as the trip out. I was starting to realize that sailing was a bit like sex. Each time was as good as the first, if not better. It was the kinda thing that you could never get tired of. OK, maybe after a month or two at sea you’d wanna stretch your legs on dry land for a while, but then you’d be itching to sail again. At least, that’s the way it seemed to me even after my brief experience. It was addictive. And as we motored up to the wharf, sails all neatly folded away, I was already wondering when I would be able to go sailing again.

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