AmélieChapter 10: Passage To England free porn video

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[Undated Entry]
At sea

FATHER’S CONNECTIONS AND wealth ensured their passage would be as comfortable as possible, given the times and the vessels available. Captain Leavenworth and the crew of Mercy welcomed them aboard. Leavenworth was the senior captain of the sugar brokers Father dealt with and known to Father and to Grace from his frequent calls on the island. Drake, first mate of Mercy, had been with the ship almost as long as Captain Leavenworth.

Their cabin was a large one, divided into two sections with a heavy cloth hanging. One section boasted a substantial bed for Sandrine and Amélie. The other had a single bed, almost a cot, for Gérard. Despite the apparent intimacy, it was a common arrangement and, given the family relationships, one that caused no comment.

Amélie had worried at first whether Sandrine would be permitted to stay with them, but once it was made clear she was a senior and trusted family retainer, despite her youth, as well as a free woman, not a slave, her presence was accepted. It was accepted by the only persons that mattered—namely, Captain Leavenworth and his officers. The crew was billeted in and ate in separate quarters. Like Captain Beauchamp of Black Weasel, Leavenworth ran a tight ship. There would be no muttering or signs of disrespect to Sandrine, especially given the evident trust and importance Father placed in her and her relationship to his daughter and his ward, Gérard.

Eight weeks is a long time aboard a relatively small vessel. This year the seas were relatively calm, something that relieved Amélie. True, the time she and Gérard had spent sailing with Captain Beauchamp meant the two were no strangers to shipboard life. Nor did they worry about seasickness. Sandrine, despite some early tremors and worries, proved to be an adept sailor as well.

The books they brought aboard along with the small guitar Gérard had learned to play during their time as fugitives were their principal amusements. That, plus their discovery of Sandrine’s singing. It is perhaps not too much of an exaggeration to say her clear velvet voice touched the soul of her listeners. Once Captain Leavenworth heard her he called on her talents more than once a week to entertain the wardroom after the meal.

Amélie had never known grown men to cry without apparent cause. Leavenworth controlled himself well, Drake in similar fashion, but the two younger officers frequently had tears in their eyes when Sandrine finished an exceptionally emotional ballad.

Amélie put her arm around Sandrine’s waist as they stood at the stern rail. Only two weeks into the voyage the nights remained warm enough to enjoy the sea air before descending to the stuffy airless cabins.

“You were extraordinary tonight, Sandrine, extraordinary.”

Amélie felt rather than saw Sandrine’s smile. Sandrine turned to Amélie and kissed her cheek. Such were the customs of women to show affection for each other no one took notice of this gesture, although both of them knew nothing they did escaped the notice of a crewman or officer. They were watched every moment outside their cabin.

“I love that song. It’s one my mother used to sing to us when we were small. It’s African, I believe. A song perhaps her mother taught her. I never knew my grandmother.” Amélie felt Sandrine shrug. “At least that’s what my mother said. Sometimes I think she made things up just to give us a past we never really knew. Perhaps it was true, perhaps not.” She could not hide the bitter undertone to her words.

The water rustled below them. Amélie took a deep breath. “I love you, Sandrine.” She kept her voice low but she kissed Sandrine after she spoke. “I love you.” Sandrine hugged her in return. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. Amélie knew her feelings as well as she knew her own. The two women were silent for minutes. Behind them, the moon, almost full, was high in the sky. It was near midnight.

“And Gérard, Amélie?”

Amélie giggled in answer.

“Oh, him, too, Sandrine. You know that.”

It was Sandrine’s turn to giggle. “Yes.” She kissed Amélie’s cheek once more. “Let’s go below and see what our beloved Gérard is up to.”

They disappeared, hand-in-hand, and the helmsman adjusted his clothing as he watched them go.

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The old priest looked down the woman, the child, who lay looking up at him, the brightness of her eyes, the rise and fall of softly rounded breasts with each breath, the glow of her skin under the torches foretelling the coming dawn, as though the sun was rising first in her body before it granted itself to the land. Life itself radiated from her: a vibrant presence that filled him with love and awe, that burned through to his soul with the vital urgency of existence. ‘So beautiful, always so...

Rites of Passage Ch 05

I woke up to an alarm beeping. It took me a few minutes, but eventually I figured out it was coming from the corner my clothes were in. I went over and pulled out my cell phone, I had set the alarm for 1 p.m. the day before but hadn’t turned it off. I couldn’t believe it was that late. Or that early, depending on how you want to look at it. I woke Monica up and told her I was leaving. She asked me what time it was and I told her. ‘Wow, thanks for waking me up, I gotta be at work by 3. Hold on...

Rites of Passage Ch 04

At last Monica and I were alone together. I stretched out on the bed and motioned for her to join me. She did so, moving with a hint of subtlety to let me know she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She lay down with her legs spread wide, indicating she was open for business (pun intended.) I have a bit of business sense about me, twelve inches of business sense, to be exact, which I wasted no time in driving hilt deep into Monica’s expecting snatch. The first few moments were nothing short of...

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