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Introduction:

Meeting a stunning woman with a perfect body and a fertile brain.

HOW WE MET

Chapter 1:

The Encounter

“Damn it, Bill! I’ve told you time and again. That’s not how we do things around here! Not only is it against University policy, but it’s blatantly illegal. Now get that through your thick skull and don’t ever do that again! If you do, I’ll have to bring it before the Advisory Board. No telling what punishment they’ll mete out. For now, I’m putting you on a 90-day improvement plan.”

Heather was clearly agitated as she slammed the file on her desk closed and waved poor Bill away. She gulped a slug of cold coffee, pounding the mug down on her desk. Her stylish Mac thrown over her arm, she grabbed her purse and stormed out of her office slamming the door. All heads in the large, open room instantly focused on her. “Uh oh. Heather’s on a tear. Look busy.” As Heather stomped through the room toward the door, she called to her secretary over her shoulder, “Clear it, bitch! I’m gone for the day!”

Heather was the head of the Research and Development department at the largest University in the region. She had responsibility to fund raise, to attract new projects and to manage a staff of hundreds with a budget approaching a billion annually. She was young, maybe too young for so much responsibility, but she was very bright, very capable. She had landed the job somewhat by chance. Her Doctoral thesis had caught the attention of the higher ups who had lured her with an inflated salary to leave her native England and cross the pond. After much soul searching, Heather had agreed to join the staff at her current University. She was the shining star in her first few years, earning Professor of the Year her first year and attracting several highly visible and financially rewarding projects. She had been named the Director of the R and D department after only three years on the job. Quite an accomplishment for someone so young.

Part of Heather’s success lay in her keen mind, able to easily sort through things to find either their inherent flaws or their strengths. The other part was too obvious. She was stunningly beautiful. Men and women alike were instantly drawn to her beauty, her perfect figure, her overall command of her subject’s attention. She was petite, belying her monumental strengths. When Heather entered a room, the atmosphere always shifted. Quickly, the undertone included “She’s arrived. Step it up, she’s here. Look who’s joined us.” Everyone knew that she was destined for bigger and better things.

With a black cloud over her head and a look that would slay dragons, Heather stormed out of the office. She had no destination in mind. She only knew that she had to escape and collect herself. As she walked past the parking lot guard shack, a big black German Shepard lunged at her, snarling and barking. She kicked at it and scurried away growling at the beast “Get away. Begone now.” The University was on the waterfront, across from a large marina. She headed that way, hoping that the water and fresh air would calm her. Leaning forward with an aggressive stride, she marched down the sidewalk, lost in her agile brain. Her phone chimed from her bag. Without breaking stride, she looked down to retrieve it.

BAM! She collided head on with an older man, both falling to the ground. “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking, totally my fault! Let me help you up.”

Once vertical, the man intoned, “No, no. Was my all my fault. I hope you’re not injured.”

Heather patted her curvaceous body. “No, sir, I’m fine. Sorry again for bowling you over like that. I’m just really agitated right now and wasn’t paying any attention. Are you sure that you’re okay?”

“Yes, miss. I’m still intact. From your accent, I’m guessing you’re an international student at the University?”

Heather smiled, her black cloud forgotten for the moment. Forcing a tepid smile, she replied, “Well, actually no. I’m not a student any longer.”

“Could have fooled me. I hope that you solve whatever had you so agitated.”

Heather thanked him, apologized yet again, and strode away. The man, his mind awash with thoughts of the raving beauty he had just encountered, turned to watch her disappear. Even on her short legs, she stomped along, her backside presenting an old man with a view that enthralled him. He saw her turn into the pub a few doors down, across from the marina.

Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to follow her. Her beauty, her petite size, her endearing accent were delicately balanced against his innate fear of rejection. But he had sensed something, a strong signal, a wave of feelings coming from deeper inside her. As is his nature, he was intrigued and inquisitive. He had nothing to lose by pursuing it. He had suffered mightily in life, and he had also made great achievements. After losing his wife and a teenage son, he had retired from his successful career as an attorney. He had jettisoned his “stuff” as he called it and bought a boat. He moved aboard, intent on escaping the grid, disappearing as much as possible from the agonies and fears that nipped at his heels.

When he entered the pub, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim atmosphere. He scanned the room and finally saw her, sitting in a booth in the back corner, all alone. He tentatively approached. She looked up at him standing there helplessly, a scowl on her face as her black cloud had returned.

She harshly spit out “Look, Mister. I said I’m sorry. You said you weren’t hurt. What more do you want? And I’m certainly not ‘available’ if it’s sex you’re looking for. Now why don’t you just go away and hit on some other brainless twit. Go on, move along, buster. I’m dealing with my own problems. I certainly don’t need yours, too. Off with you!” She waived her hand dismissively.

The sting of rejection, especially from someone as appealing as her, was acute and painful. His brain flashed numb yet tingling with a myriad of responses. It felt like when your foot wakes up after falling asleep, the seizure when your body switches gears. He just stood there, frozen, and unable to respond.

She tossed the last of her drink down her throat and motioned to the bartender for a refill. “Well, old timer? Why are you still standing there, obstructing my view of the other lost souls in here drowning their own sorrows? I thought I made myself clear before. Now, scoot.” Again, she waived me away with a dismissive toss of her delicate hand.

Once again, the sting of rejection pierced his brain. Summoning every ounce of courage he could gather he said, “Look, this is really out of character for me and I’m not trying to be creepy here. I’m also not looking to get laid. Please put all that nonsense aside. Your attitude is palpable. As an old geezer, I can assure you that I can help. I can almost guaranty that you’ll leave this den of iniquity in a much better mood. Please allow me to join you. Just one drink and then I’ll vanish from your life forever.”

The server placed a fresh drink in front of Heather and turned to the man who was awkwardly standing, waiting for an answer. “Anything for you, sir?” He stared at Heather, his eyes imploring her for a decision. She turned her head to the side looking away dismissively, and with a wave of her hand said in a tone of resigned reluctance, “He’ll have a ….”

As her voice trailed off, he ordered “Scotch. Rocks. Make it a double.”

He gingerly slid into the booth and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I’m Sailor.” No handshake, no touching. Her glare had made that obvious.

Heather nervously rearranged her drink glass and cocktail napkin, swiping away a few crumbs left behind. She took a sip of her drink, clanging the glass down. “What is it about you old men chasing young girls? Can’t you stay in your own lane? We have nothing in common, so I haven’t the foggiest notion why you’re here.”

The waitress set a full double old fashioned glass in front of me. “Will there be anything else?” Heather simply waived her away.

“I’m sitting here because you’re obviously troubled by something. I think I can help. Tell me about the thorn in your side and we’ll see if I can help remove it.”

“My troubles and concerns are none of your business. My personal life is none of your business. I suggest that you finish your drink and find someone else to meddle with.”

She was proving to be a very tough nut to crack. A gorgeous outer shell concealing hidden treasures. I felt her anger, knowing it was only temporal. There was a vibe behind it reaching out, calling to me. It was strong and I was fascinated to explore it.

“Okay, I’ll level with you. Yes, I’m an old fart, at least twice your age if not more. I’m a widower and when I gave up the rat race, I shed all my worldly possessions and moved aboard a sailboat. I retired after a lifetime as an attorney. You call them barristers or solicitors in England, right?”

She nodded her head affirmatively. “Irrelevant story but, go on. With that background, just what makes you think, even for a moment, that you can solve my problem?”

“I know about people. I can sense their vibes. Beneath your current bad mood, you radiate a much different vibe. I haven’t found the edges of it yet, but my antennae are up. I want to help you get out of your bad mood. I assure you, I’m completely harmless.”

“Reel in those antennae, Mr. Sailor. I’m not some specimen in a glass jar for you to poke and prod. I may be petite but I’m much too big for you to examine under your teeny microscope. And I can damn well guaranty you that you will not get either my digits or my address. Your character as the cuddly medium or soothsayer is lost on me. I guess I picked the wrong bar to drown my troubles in.” She emptied her drink and motioned for the waitress. “Check, please.” She pulled a fifty dollar bill out of her bag and slapped it on the table.

As she hoisted herself out of the booth she said, “Sorry again about the bumping thing, hope you’re alright. I work nearby. Maybe I’ll bump into you again! Ha! Wouldn’t that top off such a shitty day. I’m out’a here, boat man.”

She turned and walked away, bent forward aggressively, yanking the bar door open like she wanted to tear it off its hooks. Her tiny frame threw it open, making it slam against the wall with a loud bang. The waitress reappeared with the change from the fifty note Heather had left to cover the bill. She was looking at the door saying to me, “Sure hope she gets over whatever’s eating her. She’s normally very pleasant. Just having a bad day, I guess.”

“You know her?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a regular. Some bigwig over at the University. Always tips good. Here’s the change, mister.”

I had a feeling that I was going to find out more about the University. I left the money there taking note of the exact amount: $35.25.

Chapter 2:

Pay Back

That night I did some in-depth research into the University. The internet is a wonderfully frightening place. There is so much out there it boggles one’s mind. I discovered that the nameless beauty who had dissed me so badly was Heather Harmony, Director of the Research and Development department at the University. The link to the staff photos and bio page confirmed that I had bumped into royalty, single, still under 30. The website was vast with way too much personal data disclosed. By the time I shut my laptop, I knew worlds more about Dame Heather than she knew about me. I drifted off to sleep with fantasy visions of being in harmony with Ms. Harmony.

I felt a need to “make things right” with her. I wanted to show my bona fide intentions with a show of honesty by returning the $35.25. And I wanted to offer an apology for intruding. Also, a courtesy call to see if she had developed any aches and pains from her tumble. And we certainly can’t ignore the physical attraction. I called her office number.

“Hello. Department of Research and Development. How may I direct your call?”

“Yes, I’d like to leave a message for Director Harmony, please.”

“One moment, please.”

“Director Harmony’s office. How may I help?”

“Uh, well … this is kind of out of the ordinary, but Ms. Harmony and I bumped into each other on the street, and we both fell down, and, Uhh … well … I just wanted to see if she’s injured.”

“Yes, and who is leaving this message?”

“Well, just tell her it’s Sailor. I think she’ll remember.”

“I’ll let her know. Thank you for calling, sir.”

Now that I knew she was a regular at the pub across the street, I rearranged my budget to accommodate more meals out. It was a decent waterside pub, nestled in among a bustling area surrounding a major university. It was a quiet refuge from the chaos just outside the door. I decided to get familiar with their menu by having lunch there later in the day. I filled my time with a few of the endless stream of chores a boat has. Checked, filled, emptied, cleaned, replaced, there’s always something requiring attention.

Midday I wandered over to the pub. It was a long rectangular room with booths along the left wall, a half dozen four tops, and the bar on the right, curving around to the wall. The light from the chandeliers, the bar area and wall sconces in the booths gave the dimly lit room almost a romantic effect. As my eyes adjusted, I sat at the bar on the last stool by the wall. I scanned the mostly full room and did not see Ms. Harmony. The barmaid appeared and, having scanned the menu, I ordered a Budweiser bottle and a fish sandwich platter.

I sipped my beer and watched the barmaid work. She was obviously a student at the University, working to get by. I would leave her a big tip. I feel the same way about tipping dockhands who grab your lines when docking. The cuter and hotter they are, the more I tip. Can’t blame someone for just looking, right? I consider my generous tips as a donation to the fine arts. Some of the sculptures God placed on earth are truly fine art. Ms. Outrageous’ body was a perfect specimen.

Just as Ms. Outrageous served me my meal, the door opened and in waltzed Director Harmony. She paused as she removed her sunglasses, tucking them away in her stylish bag. Then she strode, almost glided, to the only open booth, right in the middle. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“This looks fine. But tell me what you know about the lady who just walked in. Do you know her?”

“All I know is that she’s with the University and tips well. Anything else?”

I concentrated on my food. I knew that once she saw me, I was trapped. I’d either get a stern stalking accusation or a ghost. Shortly, I saw the waitress serving Ms. Heather. I stole several sideways glances, trying to read her body language. Of course, she looked and caught me glancing her way. Our eyes locked on each other for far too long across the busy room. Then we nodded at each other and broke our gaze. Now she couldn’t ghost me. It was just a matter of how she would deliver the stalking claim.

When she rose to leave, I stood and quickly stepped to the door, holding it open for her. “Please, let me hold the door for you. I’m glad to see it’s still attached.” She got an amused smile on her attractive face. She stepped out the door saying, “Thank you, captain.”

I stepped out behind her as she was stepping away. “Excuse me, Director Harmony. I have something of yours I’d like to return.” Of course, she stopped in her tracks and turned to face me.

“I won’t tolerate stalking, captain. And how do you know my name? I may be petite, but I have an entire security staff at my beck and call. I’d tread lightly if I were you. Just what is this of mine that you have, Mister, uh …?

“Sailor. It’s just Sailor. No Mister. And I have exactly $35.25 of your money.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out two $20 bills. “You wouldn’t happen to have change, would you?”

Her reaction was priceless. Her lips split into a wide smile, she tossed her head back in a hearty laugh. Oh, Mister Sailor! You are a character. Was that you who called my office to enquire about me after our bump? And now being the Boy Scout and returning the tip money I left? Oh, you are too much.”

I proffered the two bank notes toward her. “Well, here. It’s yours you know.”

She held her hand up and pushed the money away. “No, Mr. Sailor. Keep it. From the outfit you’re wearing, you could put it toward some new threads. But thank you. I appreciate your honesty. Have a good day, Mr. Sailor.” She turned to leave.

I cajoled her. “And I have something else.” She turned looking annoyed “Now what, Mr. Sailor?”

“I need to give you an apology. Not for the bump. That’s been covered. An apology for imposing on you at the pub. I didn’t mean to pry. I simply saw a situation that I thought I could help with. Guess I was wrong. I’m sorry for not being able to fulfill my guaranty to alter your mood.”

This seemed to pique her interest. She rocked her hips and put one hand up to the side of her face, looking at me as if I were a statue she was admiring. Her index finger tapped the side of her face as she contemplated. “I’m not so sure about you anymore, Mr. Sailor. You failed to alter my mood as you guarantied yesterday, but you seem to have redeemed yourself today. What is it about you that can change people’s moods?”

“Ma’am, I have no idea. I listen and I learn a lot. Then I dig into my goodie bag filled with decades of experience and fling my wisdom into the wind.” I shrugged my shoulders and gave her a hopeful grin. “Do you accept my apology?”

“Certainly, Mr. Sailor. I don’t see why you would be lying about that or trying to gaslight me. I accept your apology and offer one of my own. In hindsight, I was rude to you. It’s not like the English or me to be rude to people. I’m sorry. I was dealing with a recalcitrant employee who had raised my ire.”

“There, see? Had you just told me that yesterday, instead of biting my head off, we could have exorcised that demon then and there. And something else, please. You’ve referred to me as “captain” several times. I’m not actually a “captain.” That’s a technical term of art. May I explain?”

“I guess so. I don’t know much about captains. What’s there to know?”

“I’ve always been a high achiever, getting to or near the top in everything I do. When I moved aboard full time, I naturally looked at getting my Captain’s License. I read up on it, knew I could pass the test easily. When I read the fine print, I discovered that if you hold a Captain’s License and are on someone else’s boat when they are driving, if an accident occurs YOU are responsible. It’s like holding a losing trump card. I never got licensed. Just so you know, full disclosure and all that.”

“That’s what I should know about captains? That no matter what, you’re responsible? What about the bloody pirates, the wenches, the raping, and plundering? I’m seeing flags of obfuscation here Captain Sailor. Come clean with me, Mr. Float Away. Just what are you hiding?”

Her challenge brought me up abruptly. “Director Harmony, I have absolutely nothing to hide. Have your crack army of University security staff investigate me, run a background check on me. My name’s Sailor and I live on my boat, Blow Me, at the marina. Dock A, Slip 21. You will find that I’m a harmless vagabond, sailing around and meeting the most interesting people on earth. Such as yourself. It’s been a pleasure, Director Harmony.” With that, I faux tipped my hat as I bowed at the waist and walked away.

I didn’t look back. That’s a dead giveaway. It took all my concentration to keep my eyes forward and walk briskly to the marina. I brought her into focus in my mind’s eye. The rare beauty of someone so charged, their energy manifests outwardly as well. Images of her long brown hair, her cute smile, that sculpted body all bumped around in my head as I climbed aboard.

Chapter 3:

The Kidnapping

It is told in the Bible that He rose on the third day. Today was day three since I had bumped into Heather Harmony. I sat in my cockpit sipping my coffee, greeting a new day. On my laptop I did a deeper internet search on her and didn’t find out much more. As I closed my laptop, I saw some men in black suits walking through the marina. They were very out of place in their dark suits among the casual boaters out and about. They eventually made their way down to my dock, walking past with stern faces and a military gait. I chuckled because I knew that the dock was a dead end and they’d have to walk past me again to exit.

As they approached the second time, I called out “Looking for someone? Maybe I can help. I live here.”

“Thank you, no.” They marched on, going up the ramp and into the marina office. I watched them exit twenty minutes later with a sheaf of papers in their hand. Hmmm….

An hour later I visited the office.

“Hey, Buddy! How’s every little thing?”

The dockmaster, Paul, chided back “Bigger than yours!”

“What? Did that skank Carmen rat on me? Fuck that bitch! She’s lying, Paul, I tell ya she’s lying. What I really came in here for was to find out what those two suits wanted. They stuck out like sore thumbs, ya know? What’d they want anyway?”

“Well, first they said they were from the University and had been told to check out the marina basin for possible expansion. I hadn’t heard anything about that from anywhere, so I asked a few questions. They demanded copies of papers on all the boats on Dock A. I resisted but they produced an official looking subpoena, so I gave them copies.”

“Can I see that subpoena?”

“Sorry, Sailor, they didn’t leave a copy.”

“Thanks for the info, Paul. I’ll text you the digits of the best blowjob in this fine city at Christmas, my friend. You’ve earned it.”

I returned to my boat and found my “dressiest” shorts and put on a collared shirt. I loaded my backpack and set off for a tour of the University. Crossing the road, I found the main entrance to the campus. Being in the heart of a bustling downtown, there wasn’t much of a campus. Four or five buildings, some ten stories, some shorter, a few grassy areas with pavilions and sitting areas, and courtyards between the buildings. As I strolled along, I saw a two story building with Student Union above the door. Across the courtyard was an eight story building with School of Research and Development above the entrance. On the other side of the Union was a four story building nominated the Library. I ducked into the Union and found the café. Going through the line I chose a coffee, a salad, and a piece of pie. I took my overpriced victuals to a table by the front window. I had a clear view of the entrance to the R and D building.

This was almost torture. Statistically, 43% of the people I saw were female. Of those, 99.5% (my estimation) were easy on the eyes. Too easy. Fresh young women, 18 to 25, in that magical stage where they metamorphose from awkward boarding school girls to fully developed goddesses. I tried not to stare. I really did. But it was impossible. My head swiveled around like it was a bobblehead, held in place by rubber bands. Everywhere you looked was another hot number. Then another, then another.

About 11:30 I saw her. Ms. Dignified herself, exiting the R and D building, clutching some manila folders tightly against her chest and clipping along on her short legs, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere. Her course was going to take her right past the Union. I quickly grabbed my backpack and went outside, stepping in right alongside her, matching her pace for pace.

Without breaking stride, she barked “Oh, great. You again. Look, I’m running late for an Advisory Board meeting. We’ll have to attend to your snooping around later.” Just then we were at the door to the Library. I skipped ahead and opened the door for her. As she got to the open door she paused, ever so briefly, and gave me the faintest glimmer of a smile. “Thank you, Sailor on Blow Me.”

Walking back to my boat I reviewed our interaction. She hadn’t given me a chance to speak. Not one single word. She had paid me little attention other than to put me off “until later.” I wondered what that meant. Maybe more of her security force dragging me in for spotlight questioning? The investigation she had ordered must have verified that I didn’t have some horrendous criminal past or severe mental disorder. She acted more as if I was nothing more than a pebble in her shoe, something to be endured, then tossed aside.

Back aboard I was distracted. All I could think about was Ms. Harmony and how we were playing in different key signatures or something. Even when she had hurried along, late for her meeting, she had radiated a certain glow, an aura about her that was fascinating. Having researched her past with all her stellar accomplishments, I knew she was an intellectual. She operated on a different plane from the rest of the masses. This made her drop dead good looks even more appealing. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and needed a distraction. I poured some pain killer over rocks and slouched down on the settee. I closed my eyes and tried to block her from my mind.

I must have fallen asleep because I was startled awake by my phone jangling. I looked and it showed “Private number – Restricted.” Having been jolted awake, I habitually answered. “Hello?”

“This is Heather. This call didn’t happen. Stand outside the pub where we met at 8 o’clock sharp tonight.” Then the phone went dead. Confused I called back by dialing *69. “This number is not in service. Please check the number and dial again. Error 404. BEEEEP” and disconnected.

I just sat there stunned. What the fuck was going on? I checked the time: 6:30. I still had an hour and a half to stew about what I was getting myself into. What if I didn’t show? What if she kidnapped me and took me to a safe house somewhere to torture me into revealing secrets I didn’t have? What if …. What if ….

At 7:45 I was stationed across the street from the pub, obscured behind a bus stop. I watched as nothing happened around the “drop zone.” At 8 o’clock sharp I stepped across in front of the pub. Within moments a shiny new Porsche 911 pulled up and stopped by the curb. I bent down and saw Heather at the wheel. She tossed her head in a “get in” motion. I opened the passenger door and settled in on the rich leather seat. “Buckle your seat belt. Remain quiet.” She sped away.

Not having a car, I only knew the main routes that Uber takes to get me to the grocery and the marine supply stores. She wove through the downtown streets deftly, handling the sports car like a pro, shifting gears smoothly. She was taking a circuitous course to wherever we were going, making numerous turns as if to ensure that we weren’t being tailed. I was completely turned around in more ways than one. Eventually she took the slip road and merged onto the highway. She accelerated sharply, pushing me back in my seat as she worked the machine through its gears. Once she got it into high gear, I noticed we were doing 80 miles per hour. She relaxed and slumped down a bit in her seat. We sped along for about 10 minutes.

A big overhead road sign signaled an upcoming exit. She began downshifting, using the engine compression to slow us down. Taking the slip road, we were hurling much too fast toward a stop light at the end. It was red but she dropped the car into second gear and punched it, going through the red light, tires squealing as she made a right turn. We zipped through the 90 degree corner as if on rails. A short mile down the road was a restaurant on the right hand side with several cars in the parking lot. She wheeled her Porsche in and skidded to a stop in the gravel lot between two parked cars.

As she unbuckled her seatbelt, she turned to me. “Let’s go talk.”

When we got to the restaurant door, I reached to open it for her. She stopped and said “What is it with you, Sailor? I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors, thank you. I proved it at the pub that first day, didn’t I?”

“I’m just trying to be polite, Ms. Harmony, like my mamma taught me.”

“Oh, you old time chauvinistic men. When will you ever learn?”

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