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***** Writer’s note: This is the final chapter of our tale of desire.
Thank you to everyone who has stayed the course with me to finish this tale. Hope it gave you many hours of enjoyment. It is the first work I have ever written, thank you for you patience with my learning curve.
MASTER AND COMMANDER
July 4th, 2016 was a glorious day on Oregon’s coast; the height of summer, the sun was out and the temperature was a downright balmy 72 degrees Fahrenheit. The bar at the entrance to Yaquina Bay was open; and, throughout the day, small pleasure craft and fishing boats had been entering and exiting the Newport harbor-entrance jetties.
Chief Petty Officer Michelson smiled; just twenty-eight years old, he had his own boat. And not just any boat; she was a beauty–one of only four like it. The fifty-two foot, all stainless-steel Motor Life Boat throbbed under under him as he did a quick last-minute check of his on-deck personnel. All his deck-crew were at their stations; and, everyone was where they were supposed to be. This crew was young, but not inexperienced. They had worked the last four summers and winters together. They were a team; one of the best in the United States Coast Guard.
As he cleared the two jetties, guarding the entrance to the harbor, he shoved the throttles forward; the boat quit purring and began to growl. Coming to life under his knowing hands, it surged into the chop and hit its stride in the swells and rolling ‘sheep’s heads’. Bringing the boat hard to starboard, he made for the lighthouse on Cape Foulweather, jusi up the Oregon Coast from Newport.
On a parallel course, about half-a-mile out from his Motor Life Boat, was a sailing vessel. Michelson handed the binoculars to a bosun, standing next to him on the open bridge; and, he shouted to her over the boat’s twin diesels.
“See who they are!”
The Coastie, who took them, was a twenty-three year old young woman dressed with her hair drawn back in a ponytail that she’d pushed through the Coast Guard ball-cap, so it wouldn’t blow off.
She focused. The boat was a ketch-rigged forty-footer–make that thirty-eight footer—old-style sailing rig, two masts with the second mast shorter than the first, and tanbark sails. Built sometime in the 1980s or maybe 1970s, she guessed. From the topping lift, it was flying a fairly large US Ensign. She zoomed in with the binoculars. Her name’s ‘Daddy’s Girl’ … unusual name. Haliport is Newport, Oregon.
” ‘Daddy’s Girl’, local boat.” she shouted. He nodded his head, Yes.
“Do you know the boat, Chief?”
“Yeah!” he yelled back. “The owner’s a lawyer; and, the boat was named for his wife, if I remember right. Divorce boat–part of a divorce settlement.”
“Do you want to hail them for an inspection?” She leaned in to hear his response.
“No,” he yelled, “let’s finish the beach-sweep up the coast; we can catch them in the harbor later, if they’re still sailing.”
Raising his voice a bit, he called out to his second-in-command, “You good with that, Thomas?”
He glanced over at the Petty Officer, standing behind the bosun, who was watching the beach instead of the ocean. Twenty-five-years old, he’d just graduated from the Coast Guard Advanced Rescue Swimmer program in Astoria, Oregon. He was the boat’s Surf-Rescue Tech and their Emergency Medical Technician.
Petty Officer Thomas turned from the beach, lowering his binoculars from his eyes. He nodded. “Yeah, surf-line is quiet. Breakers are easy and not very tall. Only a few surfers in the deep water. And just a handful of girls trying to lose their bikini bottoms in the undertow off Agate Beach. Should be a fast run from here to Depoe Bay and back.”
Chief Petty Officer Michelson nodded in acknowledgment.
He looked over seaward. In the moderate offshore breeze, the ketch was healed-over nearly to the scuppers; and, looking at her wake, she was probably doing almost seven knots. Someone’s having fun.
That someone was not the boat’s owner. Nikki was at the helm. She was wearing her ‘Joe Cool’ sunglasses and John Deere ball cap with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, which stuck out through the back of the hat.
Running under sails only, the boat was quiet as a whisper. With just the wind in the sails and the waves against the hull, Olivia Nicole Grant was in her element. Mac glanced at Nikki across the small cockpit. Nikki was totally relaxed, but still totally aware. As she steered, her hands barely pulled on the tiller; and, at times, she would play with just steering the boat with her fingertips. She was anticipating what the boat was actually going to do before it did. MacKenzie smiled. Nikki’s dancing. She’s using her boat to dance with the sea. It’s a beautiful dance to behold.
Nikki saw Jack’s head pop up in the hatch. “Want me to take her?”
She smiled broadly, shaking her head, No.
“You sure?” He looked at her braced feet, her hands gentle pendik escort on the tiller, and the huge smile on her face. No, because you’re having too much fun. Is there really such a thing as ‘too much fun”?
She raised her voice enough to be heard. “You guys having a beer?”
He nodded his head, Yes.
“Can we have one, too?”
“Dad, we’re old enough to have beers!” she asserted stubbornly, her mouth threatening a cute little pout.
Wagging a finger, he merely smiled. “You certainly are, but you’re driving the boat. Ask again later, when you aren’t having so much fun.”
Immediately, Mac jumped in. “So, one of you guys wanna steer?”
In answer, Jack just tauntingly held up the cold frosted-bottle and inspected its contents. “Let me think. Hmmmm. Would ya look at that; it’s damn-near full!” Taking a long swig of the Corona, he smacked his lips appreciatively and chuckled. “No, you girls just stay up here and enjoy yourselves. Down here, we’re all good.”
He disappeared below, shouting back over his shoulder, “And, put your life jackets on!”
“But, Daddy … ” Nikki started to whine, but stopped when her dad’s head popped back through the hatch. “Yeah, I know; it messes up that ‘sexy-young-thing’ look you two are striving for.”
As he turned back around, Nikki picked up the small self-inflating personal flotation device and sat there thinking; then, she smiled impishly, untied her small bikini-top, slipped it off, and put on the life jacket. Mac giggled and did the same. The PFDs now covered them only marginally more than their tops had; but, on a boat, this particular look might even be considered sexy.
Nicole and MacKenie shared a smile and a thought. That’s right, we’re bad!
Spencer laughed. “Everything okay up there?” Jessica and Tammy were sitting next to Spencer; each had a beer, each was wearing shorts and a halter top.
Jack looked at everyone and nodded his head affirmatively. “Nikki grew up with her hands around that tiller handle. She’s been steering the boat since she was twelve-years-old. I guarantee you that we’re safe.” Then he chuckled, adding, “At least, from the ocean anyway.”
Nikki stood, slipping the tiller between her butt cheeks, pushing back with her ass to keep the boat from turning, grabbed a winch handle with both hands, and took in the sheet for the main. The boat leaned over a bit more.
Nikki grinned, Let’s see how the ‘competition’ takes to a little seamanship!
As the boat heeled, the beer suddenly shifted on the table below. Startled, Jess and Tammy squealed, grabbing for their bottles; then, they heard the gleeful giggles from above. Jack and Spencer just smiled. Brats!
In another hour, they made the turn at the lighthouse taking a reverse heading back to the bay. An hour-and-a-half later, she was standing off Yaquina Bay’s entrance, two half-mile-long stone jetties extending out into the ocean. Between the jetties, the water calms; but, already late in the afternoon, there was a pronounced swell with breaking waves across the entrance, so she needed to get the timing just right to slide thru smoothly.
Mac looked at her, nervously. “Aren’t we going in?” What are we waiting for?
Nikki raised her voice slightly against the wind, “The waves need to be just right.”
A few hundred yards astern, the Coast Guard vessel slowed and fell-in behind the ketch. Michelson was curious. “Hand me the ‘nocks’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the diesels. Adjusting them, he zoomed in on the ship’s cockpit. There were two girls at the tiller, the high-powered binoculars making it look like the young women were only fifty feet away. He immediately spotted the PFDs, the bare skin on their backs, and grinned broadly.
“Evidence camera, please.” This is just too good a picture to pass up.
Puzzled, his young female bosun asked, “You going to write them up, Chief?”
Michelson nodded, yelling back over the engine noise, “Yeah! I just need the photo as evidence, if they balk at the write up.”
Taking the US Coast Guard’s high-powered and very expensive camera, he framed the shot and sighed with pleasure. The two girls were absolutely exquisite. Just as Nikki and MacKenzie were turning back to check where the Coast Guard MLB was, he fired off the perfect shot. The bridge, the boat at a slight heel, sails-full, a sunny day, the US ensign waving, and two beautiful young women in profile. They’re beautiful. The boat’s beautiful. Their breasts are beautiful.
I fucking love summer!
He studied the young blonde woman at the tiller, looking at the waves. He grinned, She’s watching the wave sets form. He looked for any telltale signs of exhaust coming from the engine. Interesting, she’s under sail only. Most recreational sailors use their motors to navigate the entrance to Yaquina Bay through the bar.
Nikki glanced back and saw the Coast Guard behind maltepe escort them; reaching down, she made sure her hand-held VHF radio was on Channel 16-A, the channel the Coast Guard used.
Coast Guard MLB ‘Reliant’ trailed at low RPMs behind ‘Daddy’s Girl’. Safely across the entrance’s chop, Nikki followed the channel until the last green buoy before the bridge. There, she took the green marker on her starboard side. Technically, it was supposed to be on the port side.
Michelson watched, curious why she passed the channel marker on the wrong side. Everything else she’d done was flawless. Then, he figured it out. She’s setting up with the direction of the wind for the dead spot under the Newport Bridge, a couple of hundred yards of still air. I don’t think this is her first time sailing in the Bay. But, it is a great excuse to do a ‘safety inspection’.
He watched as she coasted calmly under the bridge. As the wind snagged it again, the boat heeled hard; so she let out sail and the boat righted itself, but the course never varied as it slid smoothly under the bridge, heading upriver.
The radio next to Nikki crackled to life.
“Sailing Vessel ‘Daddy’s Girl’, this is United States Coast Guard,” Michelson spoke into the mike.
Nikki called back. “US Coast Guard, this is ‘Daddy’s Girl’; how may we be of assistance?”
“Channel 22-Alpha, please.”
Her voice surprised him—young, but comfortable. “This is the United States Coast Guard Motor Life Boat ‘Reliant’ on Channel 22-Alpha. ‘Daddy’s Girl’, we would like to board you for a safety inspection.”
” ‘Reliant’, ‘Daddy’s Girl’. We are currently under sail only. I say again–sail only; we are not using the diesel. Would you like us to heave-to into the wind or drop anchor?” came the response.
Smart girl!, he thought. ” ‘Daddy’s Girl’, are you headed to a marina?”
“Negative, ‘Reliant’! We are en route to the deep hole underneath the power lines at the back of the bay and plan to anchor there for the weekend,” came the reply.
He knew the spot she was talking about. Only a few locals knew the hole; a little over 20-feet deep, it was one of the best places in the bay to to anchor a sailboat–especially, if your boat had a deep keel.
“Copy, ‘Daddy’s Girl’; we’ll swing by later and do the inspection. Have a nice day. ‘Reliant’ clear. Standing by on Channel 16
“Sailing Vessel ‘Daddy’s Girl’ clear. Back to One-Six.”
Returning the boat to its upriver course, she took in the mizzen-sheet and flipped the sail on the aft-mast to the other side of the boat. With was a large sail out on each side of the boat now, it was called sailing ‘wing n wing’. Nikki called it ‘Stylin!’.
Jack heard the mizzen boom shift sides with a clunk and felt the boat’s motion change into a slow waddle. He popped his head up. “Any problems?” MacKenzie didn’t miss the fact that Jack’s eyes dilated as he looked at Nikki’s PFD.
Nikki’s smile was positively saucy. “Nope. We’re good; and, we’ll be there in about half-an-hour.” See, Daddy. We have our PFDs on–just like you told us to.
One glance at the PFDs, Jack grinned, shook his head, and stepped back off the companionway ladder. “You should take a look up there, Spencer; you really should.”
Spence got up, climbed the ladder, and poked his head out of the hatch. Holy fucking shit!
“Hi, Daddy,” Mac smiled. “Hey, Uncle Spence. Beautiful day isn’t it?” Nikki giggled. You came to look, too?
Since the invention of life jackets, no PFD had ever looked better. He stared at them both, desperately trying to tear his eyes away; but, he failed miserably. Opting for survival, he beat a hasty retreat back into the cabin. Christ, I gotta get out of here! I show up back downstairs with boner, I’m a dead man for sure.
The giggling started in earnest. That’s right. We’re bad. We’re cute. And, we’re smarter than or attorney daddies.
Back downstairs, he asked Jack, “Do you think we should say something?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Jack shrugged his shoulders, taking a swig of the now-warm beer. “I’m guessing they’ve been like that since I told them to put on the life jackets.”
Turning the boat sharply out of the main channel, sails flapping, Nikki slowly glided upwind into the deeper hole of still water. Going forward to the bow, Mac dropped the anchor; and, Nikki fell off from the wind, just enough for the boat to tug hard on the anchor chain, setting the boat’s plow-anchor in the river’s soft sandy bottom.
Pleased with herself, Nikki smiled. I haven’t used the engine once, since we pulled away from the docks this morning. Now, that’s how you sail this boat; and I—Nicole Olivia Grant—rule the seas!
She and Mac almost had the boat ship-shape again when the 52-foot Coast Guard Motor Life Boat rounded the bend, making for ‘Daddy’s Girl’.
“Coast Guard’s here, Daddy,’ she called below. “Do you kartal escort want to talk with them?”
Jack handed up the waterproof folder with all the paperwork for the boat and its occupants. “Nope! you’re doing fine, Captain!” She positively glowed with pleasure. He called me–Captain! That’s sooo cool! Make that, I , Captain Nikki Grant, rule the oceans!
Nikki looked up as she heard the loudspeakers. “Sailing vessel ‘Daddy’s Girl’, this is US Coast Guard Motor Life Boat ‘Reliant’. We’re coming alongside to board you. This is an official US Coast Guard Inspection, please have all your documentation ready.”
Nikki keyed the mike on Channel 16, “Reliant, Daddy’s Girl. Acknowledged. Standing by.” She went to the side of the boat, which she thought they’d approach from, and opened the gate on the deck’s safety lines.
The MLB pulled up alongside and Chief Petty Officer Michelson and Petty Officer Thomas came aboard. They were armed with sidearms as was the bosun with the ponytail, who stayed on board of the ‘Reliant’ to take command of the boat from the bridge.
“How many people on board, Captain?” Michelson asked, respectfully touching the bill of his ball cap.
“Six. MacKenzie and I, plus our dads and their dates down below.”
Michelson saw the two men with Tammy and Jessica at the salon-table below with the beers; and, they all nodded to him cordially. Petty Officer Thomas stayed topside, keeping the two dads in sight. Hey, you never know anymore.
Michelson asked Nikki, “You sail her in?”
She nodded her head, Yes.
“Very nice seamanship; most people use their engines to cross over the bar.”
“Yeah, I know; but this is a sailboat. It’s meant to sail. If you have to use the engine, you aren’t sailing her right.” She pointed to the keys in the boat’s ignition. “But, if I needed to I could have.”
“How long have you been sailing?” You’re cute, young Captain.
“Since I was too small to remember.” She looked up at him. You’re tall, Master Chief. I bet you’re Chief of the Boat.
“Who taught you how to sail?”
Raising her arm, she exposed a very very nice breast and pointed to the companion way, “My dad.” And, my mom.
Mac watched Michelson’s eyes. Nikki’s flirting; and, she’ doing pretty well at it, too.
“I’m Chief Petty Officer Shawn Michelson; and, I’ll be doing the inspection.” The Chief Petty Officer was having trouble keeping his eyes off the PFD. Damnation!
She put her hand out. “Nikki Grant.”
As he shook it, her small breasts jiggled slightly. Jesus, that PFD’s food for thought. “I need to see your papers, registration, and some IDs.”
Nikki pulled out the US Coast Guard Registration papers and a Boater Safety Card for everyone on board. Michelson noted the birth date on the Oregon Boater Safety Card. Just turned 18, legal. Better and better!
During the inspection Nikki stayed right by his side, answering questions and pointing out various pieces of the ketch’s safety equipment. Michelson found everything in perfect order; and, thanking her, he headed back up with Nikki trailing close behind.
Topside, Mac was busy talking and laughing with the younger Coastie. Enjoying himself immensely, the junior officer wasn’t watching the fathers anymore; he was looking MacKenzie over. What the hell, an inspection’s an inspection; and, I’m just being exceptionally thorough!
Michelson hesitated for a few seconds, his mind racing, Damn it! That was the most fun I’ve had in months; and I’d really like to see this young Captain again. I gotta do something! Making a snap decision, he took the unfinished inspection and slipped a piece of paper between the copies, so he could write something on their copy, but not the official one for US Coast Guard.
He cleared his throat. “I know you’re both wearing PDFs; however, I’m still going to issue a warning. The warning is,” he wrote across the inspection, “for being a hazard to navigation. The two young ladies, operating the watercraft, are so cute as to pose a hazard to navigation!’ He signed the inspection.
“This is my card if or your dad have any questions about the citation.” Handing her a business card with his rank, name, and contact information for the dispatch center, he tore off the warning and inspection. “You two might want to keep this.” He smiled. “And, Ms. Grant?”
He touched the brim of his cap again. “You’re not required to wear PFDs while at anchor, Captain.”
He motioned to the other Coastie and they reboarded ‘Reliant’. As soon the fenders were up and lines clear, he revved the Motor Life Boat’s throttle; and, she moved sharply away from the sailboat at anchor. As he looked back, Nikki slipped the PFD off and hung it from the mast cleat; she grinned and waved ‘bye’.
The bosun with the ponytail and side-arm glanced over at the Chief of the Boat. “You didn’t cite them?” she yelled over the engines, holding on to her ball cap.
“No! Their papers were perfect, no equipment violations. Everything was properly maintained; even their flares were still unexpired. I decided to let it slide.” Damn, I probably should have checked to see if their PFDs fit properly. Shit!
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