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My first impression of Mort and Noel was that they were father and daughter.

They came up the channel in a 42-foot sloop-rigged Oyster, as beautiful a boat as you would ever want to see. I stood on the dock and watched as the gray-haired guy behind the wheel brought her in expertly, giving the engines just the right little reverse kick before cutting them.

The skinny blonde in the bow tossed the lines down to me and I made the yacht fast fore and aft. Then she spent a few minutes fussing around with the fenders, making sure they were just right, looking over at the guy the whole time as if to say "Is this OK?" Like a daughter anxious to please her demanding father.

The guy finally jumped down to the dock, moving nimbly for an old man, and then handed down the blonde. I figured him to be about fifty-five or sixty, but in good shape. Medium height, thick through the chest, with iron-gray hair and mustache and a captain's hat pulled down low over his eyes. He had a sort of presence about him, a way of commanding your attention. I didn't even take a good look at the girl until we got inside.

"Name's Mort," he said, crushing my hand. "This here's Noel. Gonna moor here a few days, if that's OK."

"I'm Jim," I said, flexing my hand surreptitiously. "Welcome to Four Palms Marina. You sure you don't want to dock it? Give you a slip with electric, phone, water, for thirty bucks a day."

"Nope. I like to moor, get a little privacy." He was already walking towards the office with the blonde in tow. I caught up and opened the door for them, and then went around behind the desk.

Mort looked around at Four Palms Boating Supply, which I keep as neat as a pin and well supplied with marine essentials, and said "Boy, that AC sure feels good. Florida in July - Jesus Christ. It's never this hot out on the water."

"Where you coming in from?" I asked.

"Newport. Been out two weeks."

I was impressed. That's a long cruise for two people. I had the feeling Mort was waiting for me to say so, however, which goes against my nature, so I just nodded.

Noel spoke for the first time. "We need to replace some fittings. Some cleats and fairleads." Her voice was flat and lifeless.

"No problem, " I said. "There's all sorts of stuff on the back wall." I took a closer look at her and liked what I saw. About my age, maybe a little younger - say twenty-five. Skinny, but with wide hips and big, round tits moving around under her t-shirt. Stringy blonde hair, not too clean. Her face was attractive, in a vacant sort of way, with a wide, pouty mouth.

She gave Mort a little glance, like she was asking permission, and he said "Yeah, go check it out, get what we need." As she turned to go past me down the aisle he surprised me by trailing his big hand down the curve of her hip and giving her ass a proprietary squeeze. Making a point for my benefit.

"I'm gonna need water and diesel," he said. "And let's say three days on one of the moorings." He had a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth, like he knew his little demonstration had gone home.

"No problem," I said evenly. "Just fill this out." I slid a registration card across the desk and turned my back to straighten up a display. So he was her sugar daddy, big deal. All it takes is money.

"This your marina?"

"I manage it. Guy who owns it lives in Miami, doesn't get up here too often." I turned back around. No point being rude to a customer.

"Looks like business is a little slow." He looked up from the card to glance meaningfully out the window at the row of slips, which were mostly empty.

"Yeah, July and August are the slowest times for us. Come back in September, place'll be full. Sometimes we get two, three boats waiting in line to dock." I sounded a little more defensive than I had meant.

He gave me a little smile and a nod, and handed me the card. Mort Carson, captain and owner of the Miss New Jersey, registered in Newport, Rhode Island. No mention of the blonde.

Noel came back up to the desk and dropped a handful of stainless fittings on the counter. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as I rang them up. A long, hot shower and a good night's sleep, and she would be beautiful. But right now she was dead on her feet, swaying from side to side and staring into space. She reached behind her idly with one hand to scratch her back, causing the white t-shirt to pull taught against her heavy breasts. Her eyes met mine, but she let her gaze slide by with no change in her expression.

"How much I owe you?" asked Mort impatiently.

"Eighty-three fifty for the fittings and three days mooring," I said, feeling flustered. These two were really getting under my skin. "No charge for the water, and you can pay for the fuel later."

I held the door for them as we went back outside. Mort went through first, and as Noel went by she looked right at me and gave me a quick smile, bringing her face to life for a moment. I'm no high- school kid any more, but that smile, coming on top of her previous indifference, gave me a thrill. But when we got back to the big Oyster bobbing gently next to the dock she went aboard and disappeared below.

I hooked up the hoses, and as Mort and I stood there in the beating sun he described all the features of his yacht in loving detail. It was a terrific boat, the kind you could take around the world, and it had all sorts of nifty adjustments to make it easier for two people to handle it. But I guess I didn't seem too interested, because he eventually trailed off.

"It's a real beauty," I said truthfully. "Classic lines. None of that modern dropped-transom shit."

"You bet. Miss NJ was laid down in ninety-two, but you wouldn't see any difference from an Oyster laid down in the thirties. You get a design that works, you keep it."

"Lot of brass," I said. "Must be a lot of upkeep."

"Oh yeah," he laughed. "Lucky for me Noel loves to polish brass. She keeps it gleaming."

I was working up my courage to ask him some questions about Noel, when I saw his eyes turn cold and his jaw firm up. I looked up and saw that she had come back on deck wearing a pink bikini top that barely contained her soft tan breasts. She leaned over the side, showing so much cleavage that I could see right between her breasts to her flat stomach, and said "Almost done?"

"Just about," I said cheerfully. After getting an eyeful I turned back to the fuel pump with a cocky grin on my face. Take that, Mort.

He didn't say anything, but he must have given her a hell of a look, because when I turned back around she was gone.

"Take any mooring you like," I said, indicating the row of buoys in the little man-made harbor. "And feel free to give me a call in the office if you or Noel need anything else."

He gave me a stare, and looked like he was going to say something macho, but finally he just nodded and jumped back aboard. I cast off for him and watched as he motored over to the farthest buoy. Noel came back up on deck, wearing the t-shirt again, and she snagged the buoy expertly and moored the yacht. Then they both went below.

I didn't see much of either one of them over the next couple of days, which was disappointing. There isn't a hell of a lot to do at Four Palms in the off season, except stay out of the sun and drink plenty of liquids. I really wanted to see Noel again, but I would have been happy to shoot the breeze with her sugar daddy Mort just to pass the time.

When she called the front office on Friday around noon, I recognized her voice right away.

"I think there's a problem with the port engine," she said. "You think you could take a look at it?"

"I'm not much good at fixing diesels. But if you come over to the dock I'd be glad to take a look."

"I can't bring her in by myself. Mort won't be back till later tonight, and he wanted everything to be ready to go."

I was getting a lot of vibes, a lot of stuff coming through between the lines. I had a good feeling about this, you might say.

"OK, in that case I'll row out in a dinghy. Be right there."

"Thanks."

It was about a two-minute row over to the Miss New Jersey, but I still broke a sweat under the stinging July sun. When I came up the stern ladder she was sitting in the cockpit under an awning, an apologetic smile on her pretty face.

"Your name's Jim, right? I'm sorry, Jim, I just tried the engine again and it sounds fine. Must have been a bubble in the fuel line or something."

She was wearing a bikini top and faded jeans, and she looked a lot cleaner than the last time I had seen her. The jeans were tight across her hips, but left a noticeable gap at her narrow waist.

"No problem," I said. "Glad to hear it."

"How about a cold beer? It's the least I can do." She gave me a direct look that made me very curious to find out what else she might do for me.

"Anything cold would be great," I said, and she went below and popped right back up with a couple of icy Buds.

Beers have a way of disappearing in a hurry in the Florida heat, and we polished off two each while we chatted amiably. She told me she graduated from Florida State two years ago and still hadn't decided what to do with her life, which sounded pretty similar to my own situation. We kind of skirted around the subject of what she was doing with Mort, and talked for a while about the Bahamas, which was where they were headed next.

"Mort wants to do some scuba diving and explore some of the uninhabited islands over on the western side," she said. "I'd rather spend the time in Nassau partying, but he likes to get away from the tourists."

"Well, he has a good boat for it," I said. "You can stay out for weeks on a cruiser like this, as long as you don't run the engines too much."

She wrinkled her nose. "Don't I know it. Another beer?"

I was already feeling the first two, and I think she was too. I gave her a silly grin and said "Why not. It's not like I have much else to do today."

"Come on below, I'll give you the grand tour. The AC is on, for once."

She stood up and made an elaborate show of hitching up her bikini top, and then she managed to bump her hip into me twice on the way down the ladder to the galley, and to brush her breasts across my arm as she opened the refrigerator. I started popping a nice hard on, and I as I adjusted my shorts to hide it I wondered why I was bothering.

The funny thing was, I wouldn't have minded getting to know her better before we hopped in the sack. She had a sarcastic wit that I liked, and wasn't half as vacant as she had first appeared. I could picture us sitting across from each other in a nice Italian restaurant, drinking Chianti and playing footsie, or maybe at an outdoor seafood place, holding hands and looking at the water. Not that I wasn't anxious to get in her pants, of course.

The interior of the Miss New Jersey was about what I expected: acres of gleaming teak set off by lots of shiny brass. The cool, dark atmosphere seemed incredibly intimate after the blazing sauna on deck, and her voice grew sultry and distracted as she showed me around. I made appropriate noises of appreciation, but I couldn't tell you a single thing she said. When we finally went aft into the master bedroom she stumbled into me on cue, and this time I put my arm around her and pulled her up against me.

"Oops," she giggled.

"Oops is right," I said, and I bent my head down and kissed her. Her lips were soft and receptive, as good as they looked, and we held the clinch for what seemed like forever, neither one of us feeling the need to rush it.

"This is the master bedroom," she said when we finally broke the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes sparkled in the dim light. "And that concludes our tour."

I still had my arms around her, and I could feel her warm breasts cuddled against my stomach. She started moving us towards the bed, and I said "You sure Mort isn't coming back soon?"

"Yes. Definitely not for hours."

That was good enough for me. We sat down on the queen-sized bed, which took up most of the cabin, and started kissing again. She was eager and receptive, tilting her head against mine and opening her mouth. I explored her mouth with my tongue and cupped my hand around her breast, gently pinching the big nipple through the taught fabric.

All signs were go, and it wasn't long before I had both of her breasts spilled out of the bikini top. I kneaded and stroked them while we continued to kiss, rolling her nipples back and forth between my fingers, and she made a moaning sound deep in her throat and spread her knees apart. I dropped my hand down into her lap and unbuttoned her jeans, which created just enough space for my hand to slide in. She wasn't wearing anything under the faded Levi's, and she had such a generous space between her thighs that I was able to lay my palm flat right over her soft bush.

She tilted her hips up just a little, and my middle finger slid down between her pussy lips. I wiggled the lucky finger a little, spreading the incipient moisture around and bringing out more, and her whole body became tense and rigid.

"Yeah, that's good." she said softly.

I continued to slide my finger up and down her pussy, and she became wetter and wetter, and started gripping my arm so tightly it hurt.

"How we doing? " I asked.

"Real, real good." She leaned back on her hands. "Keep doing that and I'll show you."

Sure enough, a few seconds later she closed her eyes and started hyperventilating, and then she let out a long, drawn-out moan, so loud it startled me.

"Not bad," she said when it was finally over. "I don't even have my pants off yet."

"How about we both take our pants off."

When I finished stripping down, she was lying back on the bed with her legs slightly spread, and I was looking right at her pussy, which looked moist and fresh and good enough to eat. I hunkered down between her legs and gently licked the pink folds that surrounded her clit. She started moaning again, which was like music, and she tasted so sexy I burrowed in deeper, drawing up the essence of her and reveling in it.

She gasped and stiffened, and for just a second I felt that little feeling of triumph again, but then I realized she was sitting up, pulling away from me, and she said "Mort!"

Shockingly, his voice was right behind me, shouting "What the fuck is going on, you little whore!"

I rolled over in a hurry and there he was, filling up the doorway, still wearing the captain's hat. I saw the butt of a gun sticking out of the waistband of his pants, and I figured maybe this time I was really screwed.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he asked again. He was looking at Noel, so I grabbed my jeans and tried to put them on, but I was in such a panic that I couldn't seem to do it - I kept jabbing my feet at them and missing. Noel was frozen in place, just looking at him with that slack dead expression she had when they first showed up.

Finally she said "Sorry, Mort. Didn't expect you to be back for a while yet."

"I can see that, you fucking whore," he said. "I leave for a couple hours and when I come back you've already started fucking the locals. And you ask me why we never visit the big cities. Christ, I bet you could fuck half of Miami on a weekend stopover."

"Sorry," Noel said again, in a small, deadpan voice.

"Now what the fuck am I gonna do with you?" He came into the cabin and I saw the dark-skinned woman behind him for the first time. I was still pumping out adrenaline from the first shock, so this didn't really affect me much. A Cuban working girl, probably in her late teens. Pretty, in a coarse sort of way: too much makeup, and white shorts that were so tight you could see the outline of her pussy.

I made another stab at putting my pants on, and Mort looked at me and said "Where the fuck you think you're going?"

"Listen, I'm really sorry about this. I think it would be better if I just left, so you and Noel can -"

"You fuck around with my woman, on my boat, in my fucking bed, and think you can just walk away? Sit right there, keep quiet, and maybe I won't kill you."

Noel said "It wasn't his fault, Mort. I invited him."

"I know who's fault it is." He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet, and then he pushed her forward so she was bent over the bed right next to me with her ass in the air. Her ass cheeks were criss-crossed with a faint pattern of white stripes.

Mort reached into a narrow closet and pulled out a belt. "You know what I gotta do, dontcha?"

She said something vaguely affirmative and buried her face down in the covers.

"Get your face out of there. I want you to look at your loverboy. I want him to see what happens to sluts like you." She turned her head obediently to face me. Her sensual mouth was open and slack, and she seemed to look right through me.

I heard a whoosh, followed immediately by a sickeningly loud crack, and Noel let out a little high-pitched grunt and said "Oh God." The Cuban girl said something in Spanish, sounding worried, and Mort said something back that made her laugh. A bright red welt appeared on Noel's ass, making a sharp contrast with her pale skin.

I felt sick to my stomach with fear and anger, and I said "Jesus Mort, take it easy - can't we talk about this?"

"You get off that bed, and I'll put a bullet in your brain. There, we talked about it."

Whoosh - crack. Whoosh - crack. Mort gave her about ten more, turning her ass bright red and making a hell of a racket. Noel took it in silence after the first outcry, a faraway expression on her face. I just sat there and watched, feeling like a real loser.

Then Mort put the belt away and said something else to the Cuban girl, and she unbuttoned her shorts and struggled to work them down off her hips. Finally they dropped to the floor, revealing her thick, black bush, and the small cabin was suddenly filled with a tangy, ripe pussy scent.

Mort said "OK, you know the drill. Show your lover boy what a slut you are."

Noel dropped to her knees in front of the Cuban girl, who leered invitingly at her and put one foot up on the bed. Noel put her face right into the girls crotch and started licking, and something about the way she did it told me that this wasn't the first time she had received this type of punishment. I don't think she was enjoying it, but she didn't seemed particularly surprised or shocked.

In fact, now that I had remembered to start breathing again, I realized that this whole thing must have been a setup. Kind of suspicious the way Mort showed up like that, out of the blue, with the Cuban hooker conveniently in tow.

The hooker had her hands laced around the back of Noel's head, and she was grinding her pussy into Noel's face and talking to her in Spanish. I was glad I couldn't understand what she was saying. Then Mort unzipped his pants, took out his thick, ugly cock, and said, "Stand up. Get your ass up in the air."

Noel straightened her legs out, staying bent over at the waist, and I caught a glimpse of her pussy between her long, slim legs, still glistening from my saliva. Mort stepped towards her and sunk his cock into her with one quick, brutal thrust. Noel gasped and pushed herself back against him and made a little moaning sound.

I started to feel angry. Why the hell had they duped me into their sick little game? What was my part supposed to be? I decided not to stick around to find out. Mort was banging away at Noel, occasionally looking over at me to make sure I was watching. He didn't seem too worried about me; maybe he figured a guy who was naked wasn't going to try anything. I made sure I looked appropriately terrified, and then the next time he turned away I bolted out the door into the main cabin.

It seemed to take forever to get to the ladder leading up to the cockpit. If Mort wanted to shoot me, he had plenty of time. My bare foot slipped on the first rung, giving my shin a cruel whack, and then I shot up the ladder into the bright heat of midday. I heard some shouting and what sounded like laughter down below, and Noel called out my name. I jumped up onto the deck and immediately dove overboard, taking a deep breath just before I sliced into the water.

When I finally came up my lungs were on fire and I was a good fifty yards away from the Miss New Jersey. Being a good swimmer comes in handy sometimes. All three of them were standing on deck looking at me, and a few people in other boats were also watching what was going on. I swam the remaining thirty yards or so to the dock, climbed up the slippery wooden ladder, and hurried into the office, covering my privates with my hands and feeling foolish.

Fortunately the place was empty, as it usually was this time of year. I grabbed a new swimsuit from the clothes rack, tore off the tags, and put it on. First things first. Then I went to the window and looked out. Noel was rowing over to the dock in my dinghy. I watched her as she came up the ladder and walked up to the door, carrying my clothes in a neatly-folded stack.

She came in and we looked at each other for a few seconds in silence.

"Enjoy your little game?" I asked.

"No, as a matter of fact I didn't. Here's your clothes." She put them on the counter. "Your dinghy is tied up by the ladder."

"Thanks. Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

She looked at me, and then dropped her eyes to the floor. I wasn't buying the embarrassment act, though. "Mort's idea of fun," she said. "I seduce a guy, then he sneaks up on us and makes a big scene, scares the hell out him. Mort makes the guy watch while he fucks me, then he lets the guy get in on the action, which Mort really gets off on. By the time it's over we're all good friends." She gave me a rueful smile "So you should have stuck around a little longer."

"Yeah, I guess. What about the hooker?"

"Another little fantasy of Mort's is to see me getting it on with a woman. He's got a lot of fantasies. Lately he's been combining them, which may not be a good idea."

"Are any of these things your fantasies too?"

"They used to be. Some of them. But not any more."

"So you want me to call the police?"

She looked startled. "God no! It's not like that."

"Then what is it like, Noel? Tell me, I really want to know. And don't give me any shit about what a sweetie Mort is. I know an asshole when I see one."

"I guess he is an asshole. But not a homicidal one. You were never in any danger."

"Yeah, I know that. That's not what I meant. I want to know what you're doing with him - how you met him. Why you stay with him."

She shook her head. "It's not a pretty story."

"I didn't think it would be."

"Then why do you want to hear it?"

"Because I like you, dammit! After we made love I was going to try to convince you to stick around."

She looked into my eyes, saw that I was sincere, and said "Oh for God's sake ... that's really ... sweet."

"But stupid."

"No, not stupid." She seemed to be fighting back tears.

"Listen Noel, is there any way we can go out to dinner tonight? Talk things over?"

She started to shake her head automatically, and I said "Yes you can, dammit. Tell Mort I'm threatening to go to the police unless you spend the night with me."

She thought about it for a second. "Yeah, I guess that might work. That's the kind of threat Mort would appreciate."

"So go ask him. No, go tell him."

She smiled at me, and I could see that she was sizing me up, maybe doing a little reevaluating. "You're a real go-getter, aren't you?"

I gave her my best cocky grin and said "Damn right. When I see something I really want, look out."

The phone rang a little while later and I picked it up on the first ring. It was Mort.

"What's this bullshit about calling the police?"

"I don't appreciate being threatened with a gun. Or the way I was set up, either."

"You got nothing on me. You're the one who was messing around with my woman."

"So why did you call, then?"

He chewed on that for a few seconds and said "Noel tells me you think you still got a little pussy coming your way." All class, this guy.

"That's right. You send her over here for the night, and we'll call it even. No police."

"You got nothing on me," he repeated. "But I guess I see your point. I want her back on board by midnight." Click.

Noel rowed back over to the dock in my dinghy at six, and this time I was there at the top of the ladder to help her as she came up with her shoes in her hand. She was wearing a short green sundress that matched her eyes and showed off her legs, and she had styled her hair and put on a little makeup.

She gave me a bright smile and said "Did someone here order a blonde?"

"You look terrific," I said. I wanted to kiss her more than anything, but I knew Mort was probably watching from the boat, so I settled for holding her arm to steady her as she put her shoes on. She was talking a mile a minute as I walked her over to my car and opened the passenger door for her, telling me how she convinced Mort to let her go, and I just smiled and nodded, feeling bashful and overwhelmed. It suddenly occurred to me that she was nervous, and this made me happy for some reason. I pulled out onto the highway, anxious to get away.

"Hungry?" I asked, when she paused for a second.

"Very. Where are we going?"

"Well, there are three decent restaurants around here. An Italian place, a Chinese place, and a seafood and steak place."

"Not to sound unladylike, but I could use a couple of drinks first. Something strong and tropical. And then maybe a steak?"

"Sounds good to me - Billy Bob's Steak Shack it is. It's nicer than it sounds."

We got a nice quiet booth at Billy Bob's, which really is a nice steak house, and ordered a couple of drinks.

"So how did you end up running a marina?" she asked.

"Family business. Or it used to be, anyway. My dad started it thirty years ago and did real well, well enough to put me and my brother through college. But five years ago he got sick, and his health insurance didn't cover everything so he had to sell it. When he died, the guy who bought it asked me to run the place."

She nodded and asked "Why did you accept? You had your degree, right?"

"A degree in English. I was actually working in a restaurant when my dad died, so this was a step up. At the time I thought it was what my dad would have wanted. He was always bugging me to come work for him after I graduated."

"So you like it?"

"Hell no. I'm just trying to get up the nerve to quit and try something else."

She smiled. "I majored in history. I guess we make a good cautionary tale against majoring in the humanities."

"Yeah, good point. Listen, I hate to break the mood, but you promised to tell me how you ended up with Mort."

She finished her drink, and we ordered another round. When the new drinks came she said "I told you it's not a happy story."

"I want to hear it anyway, Noel."

"OK. I'll give you the abbreviated version." She thought for a few seconds, stirring her drink with a swizzle stick, and then she said "My boyfriend was a starter on the football team, and that meant that we ran with a pretty fast crowd. A lot of partying, a lot of sex. One thing the football players loved to do was gamble. As in betting on sports. Mort was the biggest bookie on campus. Mort the Sport, they called him."

"Cute."

"Yeah, everybody loved Mort. Every weekend he would have a big party at his house for the athletes and for his high-rolling clients. He provided the alcohol and the food, and people would place their bets for the upcoming week, talk sports, that sort of thing. You wouldn't believe how much money we're talking about. The players all got cash under the table from rich alumni, and they drove around in fancy cars and lived in nice apartments off campus."

"Yeah, I remember that from my days at good old FSU. It was a good introduction to how unfair life is."

"Steve, my boyfriend, used to bet five thousand a week or so during the NFL season. But he wasn't very good at it, and he always owed Mort money. Mort was pretty flexible about payments if you were a star athlete, and Steve took full advantage. So eventually he ended up owing him some ungodly amount."

She paused for a moment, fiddling with the two little paper umbrellas from her drinks, and I studied her face. Her skin seemed to glow in the soft romantic lighting. But there was pain there, just under the surface, and this story was bringing it out.

"So one night at one of his parties, Mort pulls me aside and tells me how much trouble Steve was in, how he was going to be kicked out of school for owing Mort money and for illegal gambling."

"Let me guess," I said sourly. "He had some suggestions on how you could help Steve out."

She nodded. "He was pretty subtle about it, but I knew what he wanted. I started sleeping with Mort, and with his friends, and Steve kept getting more time to pay back his debt. But the thing is, I didn't mind too much. Mort was a fun guy to be around, back then, and I liked moving in the fast lane. Steve found out eventually, and we broke up, but by then Mort and I were ... I don't know. Heavily involved, I guess you might say."