Kris and Jack walked slowly back to their cottage.
“You notice how that young woman wants a boy?” she pointed out to Jack.
“Yeah. I’d call that our first hint that Alwa is a man’s world.”
“So very many of them are,” Kris said with a sigh.
That night, the bed turned out to be just as much fun as the beach blankets had been. And the feathers were much softer than the sand.
Another interesting bit of discovery.
14
The days could have taken on a wonderful sameness, but Jack insisted they do something new every day. So one day they took out a sailboat. Kris showed Jack how to handle the sails while he struggled with the tiller. Then she took over the tiller and showed him how to catch the wind.
“Sailing is a dance between you, the tiller, the sails, and the waves.”
“I’ll take your word for that,” Jack said, looking rather pale. He wasn’t seasick. Not quite.
Kris chose to go with the waves, making the ride as smooth as possible, and he seemed to draw more joy from it.
As a teenager, Kris had fantasies of making it with a boy in a sailboat. She and Jack got some nice foreplay in, but the thought of lying down on the ribbed bottom or trying to do something on the thwart seats gave the mature Kris too many images of the boat taking off on its own, flipping over, or coming up with some other disaster her younger self hadn’t thought of.
They found a nice island and took advantage of its white beach.
The next day, they went snorkeling naked off their own private beach. Kris had a hard time dividing her attention between Jack and the beautiful undersea view. Jack seemed to be splitting his time pretty evenly between her and the scenery.
Was it lust or was it love?
Could love be served with a nice side dish of lust?
The more Kris learned about Jack, the more she shared about herself with Jack, the more sure Kris was that this was the man she wanted to share her life with. The man she wanted to have beside her as she grew old . . . assuming she dodged the bullets and the bombs that long.
She found herself wondering what their children might look like. What kind of adults would they grow up to be? A son like Jack couldn’t help but be as wonderful as his father. And a daughter . . . Jack wouldn’t drive his daughter to drink.
Kris let all these thoughts wash through her, mindful that her birth-control implant had about run its course and would need replacing soon. Yes, replacing.
Granny Rita may have had seven kids on the far side of the galaxy. Kris, however, had a couple of battles to fight.
Kids would have to wait.
They were dressing for dinner the fourth evening. Kris used that word loosely. Neither had worn a stitch all day, but it was the dinner meal and “Total Nudity Not Allowed” applied.
They were rather late, though.
Kris sidled over to lean her chin on Jack’s shoulder. “You’d look great in that lava-lava.”
“It’s so thin you can see right through it,” Jack said.
“Only if the light is right, and you know how dim the lights are by this time.” The lights were pretty bright when the muumuu teams arrived, dimmer for the shorts contingency and rather shady when the bikini-or-less brigade strutted in.
“What will you wear?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow that wasn’t quite a leer.
“Not one of those string things. They ride up in all the wrong places and chafe me where only you should be.”
“Do girls wear lava-lavas?”
“Let’s find out.”
Jack chose her lava-lava, the most light colored one in the closet, not quite as thin as the one she’d picked for him. They spent a couple of minutes figuring out how you wore one, and that almost got dinner scratched for more bedtime, but Kris found that Abby had included a few pins, maybe earrings, in her “to go” bag, and they managed to get both of them arranged so they didn’t fall off at every opportunity.
“What are you wearing for a top?” Jack asked.
“What I got on. You seem to like it fine.”
He kissed her bare breasts, lovingly, and once again the bed started looking better than supper. Today, however, they’d again had nothing since their breakfast buns. Grumbling stomachs won out over libidos that were proving insatiable anyway.
They were late, very late. Most of the bikini brigade were already seated, but the owner had held their table for them. Kris walked through the dining room on the arm of the man that she loved.
Among this crowd, they hardly got a glance.
The waitress brought tea when she first came to their table. “Your usual, one of each type of fish?”
“What are you serving tonight?” Kris said.
The waitress named the two fish offerings.
NELLY, DO WE LIKE BOTH OF THEM?
NO, KRIS, THE SECOND ONE BOTH OF YOU HATED. YOU BOTH LOVED THE FIRST ONE.
Kris ordered two of the same dinners for them, much to the waitress’s surprise.
“I checked in with Sal, too,” Jack said. “If you hadn’t ordered, I would have.”
“I’m sorry. Did I violate male prerogative by ordering for us both?”
“Anytime you want to use Nelly to save our neck or get us a great dinner, you go right ahead. I’ve got more important things to do with my male ego than bend it out of shape.”
Kris put her hand out, palm up. He covered it, and began doing wonderful things to it.
“I like your male everything just the way it is,” she said.
“Your lady parts are mighty fine, too,” he answered.
“Kris, I have a message from Captain Drago.”
Kris found her back going ramrod straight. Damn near naked, she came to attention. “Hold the video, Nelly, but put him through.”
“Princess Longknife, Jump Point Beta, the one we used to jump in here, has started spitting out U.S. warships like a cat having kittens,” Captain Drago reported. “The first two through are squawking as USS Fearless and USS Intrepid. They’re a bit bigger than us, but the next one, the USS Constitution. It’s way bigger. We’re making out six loaded lasers forward, four aft. The chief says he doesn’t know what they are, but they’re bigger than our 18-inchers.”
He paused for a moment. “Here’s another big one, the USS Monarch. Oh oh, she’s squawking as the royal ship.”
“Aren’t we all Royal United Society Ships?” Kris asked.
“Yes, Kris, but this one is identifying herself as The Royal. It has the king himself on board.”
Dear Lord, Ray has come for his Rita.
The great Ray of legend was in for one hell of a surprise. The raised eyebrows from Jack beside her said he shared the same thought.
“Holy smoke on a stick,” the skipper burst out. “You got to see this next ship to believe it. You know those damn baby monster ships. Well we just had something come through the jump, claiming to be the USS Prosperity, with ten reactors and twenty charged lasers. It must weigh two or three hundred thousand tons if it weighs an ounce. Oh, and the chief tells me its all Smart Metal.”
Kris and Jack exchanged puzzled looks. The whole idea of the Smart MetalTM ships was to be fast, maneuverable, and not get hit. Something that huge defied any tactical application Kris could think of.
“We got a second one of those monsters, USS Enterprise. Nice name, and it’s got twenty huge lasers. And there’s a third, USS Canopus. I think the big show is over. Here comes another big frigate, USS Constellation, bringing up the rear. Oh, and another. USS Princess Royal. What are your orders, Your Highness?”
So, Granny Rita, tell me again exactly what is my place in the chain of command?