Scott's Satin Sheets (2 page)

For now, though, his task was saving money.

He’d just started to roll out the damaged sail—when his eye caught on a new yacht in the harbor. There were plenty such vessels in the marina—Key West was one more playground for the rich, fortunately for him and his way of earning a living—but this one was a doozy. Gleaming white beneath the morning sun, it stretched forever and barely fit in the slip.

And then…he saw
another
vision in white. On the wide lower deck, a gorgeous blonde sat nibbling on some pastry in a bright white robe. The main thing he noticed, though, was that it appeared to be tied only loosely in front so that the plush fabric created a deep V between her breasts and her tan legs stretched outward from it, crossed at the ankles, balanced on another nearby chair. That robe had to be open nearly to her crotch. When the girl turned her gaze on him, as if she’d felt his stare, his cock started to harden in his pants.

He didn’t look away. He was used to forward women and accustomed to being equally forward himself. Instead, he smiled, hoping she could see it across the distance that separated them—the catamaran set perpendicular to the yacht, four slips down, and the yacht’s lower deck set up higher than he was.

He watched—slightly surprised, entertained—when the beauty set her breakfast aside and smoothly pushed to her feet, turning toward him. Smiling languidly, sexily—which assured him she probably
could
see his expression—she sensually stretched, yawned, parting the robe farther in front as she ran one hand through long, tousled waves of hair.

And then—
then
—she matter-of-factly reached down and untied her robe and, using both hands, held it open wide, showing him one of the most delectable naked female bodies he’d ever had the pleasure to behold.

“Shit,” he murmured to himself, his cock stiffening further at the sight.

She flashed a naughty-girl look, lowering her chin slightly and running her tongue across her upper lip. Then she used both hands to sensuously squeeze and massage her sumptuous, round breasts just for a few seconds before tweaking her big, lovely, turgid, pink nipples. After that, his hot flasher babe dipped her middle finger slightly through her smoothly shaven slit, lifted it to her mouth, then sucked it clean.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his heart pumping, his cock stretched long and hard and ready behind his zipper now.

He was just about to take action—drop the edge of the sail still in his hand and head over to that very inviting yacht—when his naughty girl closed her robe just as smoothly and comfortably as she’d opened it, then walked away, back inside the main cabin.

“Mother of God,” he said. And he’d just about decided he should go over anyway, in case her walking away was the actual invitation—when he caught sight of what looked like a servant, arriving to clean up after her by picking up her plate and coffee cup. The guy didn’t look in his direction, so apparently he’d missed the show. But then another servant appeared—more of a captain-looking type—and Scott had no choice but to decide he should stay where he was.

After all, the girl had chosen to disappear from view, and she knew where he was if she wanted him. And the last thing he needed was to go trotting over there only to find out the chick had an angry husband inside or something.

Still, his dick throbbed even as he started measuring the small hole in the mainsail, ready to cut a patch of Dacron to sew over it. And since he wanted to do a good job on the sail, he decided the simplest thing was just to head down to the small space belowdecks that housed the bathroom and a couple of benches and take care of himself.

As he descended into the cool shade, he deftly unzipped his khaki shorts and took his shaft in hand. Mmm, God, yeah. He’d much prefer to have the
blonde’s
hand wrapped around his length, but this would do. Settling on one of the built-in padded benches along one wall, Scott closed his eyes and imagined fucking the gorgeous girl right there on the deck of her yacht for anyone to see. In his mind, he planted both hands on her ass, laid her back on her breakfast table, and rammed deep into her sweet, pink pussy. As he worked his erection, he thought of how juicy wet her cunt would close around his big cock, and he imagined her moans and yowls of pleasure filling the air. He saw himself pounding into her, over and over, beneath the hot morning sun, her ample breasts jiggling with each hard stroke as she played with those pointed nipples some more.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the point of no return, and he used his spare hand to reach for the tissues on a built-in shelf above his head, grabbing a handful just in time. “Aw, yeah,” he muttered, coming into the tissues he held down to catch it. He imagined coming on
her
instead—watching the hot, white arcs of fluid decorate her torso, her breasts, then using his hands to rub it into her flesh while she sighed her delight.

“Scott? Dude? You here?”

Shit. Chris. What the fuck was
he
doing here? Besides the fact that this was his boat, that is. Still, Scott hadn’t expected company. “Uh, yeah, down here—in the bathroom,” he fudged, quickly zipping up and glad he’d reached those tissues in time. It wasn’t that Chris would begrudge him getting himself off—God knew they’d been in enough sexual situations together given how long they’d both worked the
Party Barge
before Chris had gotten his own gig—but for some reason, Scott just didn’t feel like going into it.

He couldn’t explain to himself why—normally, he’d be fine with telling Chris the whole thing—but as he made his way abovedeck, he found himself wanting to keep the whole little encounter with his flasher girl to himself, like a private little secret just between the two of them.

“What’s up?” he asked, greeting Chris. His friend looked like his usual beach bum self in tank top and rumpled blond hair. “First cruise isn’t until noon today, right? I just started to repair that worn spot in the mainsail.”

“Yeah, noon—but there’s a guy up on the main dock looking for waiters to work some fancy party tonight. You said you’d do anything, and since tonight’s your night off from the
Barge
, I volunteered you. But if you want the job, you’d better get up there fast—I’ll sew up the sail.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn’t dying to wait on people, but it probably paid well. “Thanks, dude,” he said, “I’ll be back.” Then he started toward the main dock through the boats and sails spiring above him in the marina.

Okay, work, an extra job—this was good. Not only for the money, but it would be something to take his mind off the hot yacht babe and those spectacular breasts and that silky-smooth-looking pussy.

Yeah, right—like a fucking job would take his mind off
that
. He still didn’t know why, but he had a feeling this chick and their silent, distant liaison was going to stick in his mind for a while.

Well, at least she’d give him something nice and naughty to think about while he pretended to be a waiter tonight.

* * * * *

Payton still couldn’t believe she’d done it. She didn’t know what had possessed her.

But wait—yes, she did. It had been the hungry throb of her cunt. It had been the cool morning air blowing over it, making it even more sensitive. It had been the super-hot guy down below, looking all rugged and masculine, not like anyone her father would ever pick for her, but much more like a man’s man, a man who knew how to pleasure a woman—hard.

She’d realized no one was around and she’d simply been driven to…do something wild for once in her life, to follow her instincts, to do what her body told her to do. And for that brief moment in time it had been…so fucking hot and exciting, more than anything she’d ever done.

The only problem now was—her pussy was even hungrier, hotter, wetter.

Soon after she’d flashed the sexy, lean, dark-haired guy, her parents had returned to the yacht and whisked her away for a day on Key West. Her mother had led her into expensive shops and art galleries on Duvall Street while her eyes had been more drawn to bars with signs about tiny bikini contests and even one sex shop. And the three of them had eaten lunch on the veranda of a stately, upscale, plantation-style house-turned-restaurant while she imagined what might have happened if she’d been bold enough to do more than flash her hot hunk from afar, if she’d left the yacht, made her way to
his
boat, then opened her robe
there
.

Now, like it or not, she was getting dressed for a cocktail party on the yacht this evening. Turned out, she’d heard through the mist of her lust at lunch, that her father had just bought a fleet of tourist boats that operated here. Apparently, the deal had been in the works for a while now, as had the soiree, to which he’d invited some prominent local businessmen and other interested parties.

He planned to buy the family a vacation home here, as well, he’d told her over tea this afternoon on the deck. He was like a kid in a candy store, her father. Clearly, suddenly, Key West was his new hobby, the place where he would invest some money and hang out a while—until he got bored and some new hot spot caught his fancy.

So Payton hadn’t been particularly excited about the idea—it was par for the course in her world. But now that she thought about it, standing before a mirror, plumping her breasts to maximum advantage in the built-in cups of the slinky black dress that held them, maybe Key West would be more interesting than their other ports of call. It was renowned to be a pretty wild place, after all, and the island, she already knew, had at least
one
hot guy she’d love to party with.

So maybe she’d
use
this vacation home while they had it. Who knew—if she played her cards right, maybe she could even whisk herself away to it without her mother and father tagging along. As she’d proven to herself this morning, given the chance to be alone, she could be driven to extremes.

Part of her thought it would be a good idea to get herself off before she left her room for the party—after a day of her pussy humming with constant arousal, it felt like the biggest part of her, all she could think about.

But she remained dissatisfied with the idea of masturbation—and she didn’t particularly want to risk messing up her dress. So coming could wait—hell, it had waited all day already, so what was a few more hours?

After hooking her favorite diamond necklace and checking her updo one last time in the mirror, she opened the door to her cabin and made her way out into one more lavish Albright party.

Upon reaching the main deck, where the bulk of the partygoers had already gathered, the women in colorful cocktail dresses and the men sporting light summer sports coats, she found Daniel placing a glass of wine in her hand and reminding her,

“Smile, Miss Albright, so that everyone will think you’re happy to be here.”

She did smile, at him. “Is my boredom that obvious?” Bored with parties, bored with masturbation—
Lord
, how she needed something fresh in her life.

He simply shrugged. “I’ve had a long time to observe you. I suppose I read your moods better than most.”

True enough, Daniel had been in their employ since her college days. She found herself wondering now, though, for the first time, if he could tell—if he had any inking—that she was horny as hell and had been all day. All
spring
actually.

“What is it, Miss Albright?” he asked then.

Apparently, her odd musing had shown on her face. “Nothing.” Then she looked around the room and tried to feel more merry. “Are there any cute guys here?”

Daniel chuckled. “I wouldn’t know about cute guys, Miss Albright, but your father hired some local waitstaff and there
is
a lovely brunette carrying about a tray of crab puffs whose acquaintance
I
hope to make.”

Payton smiled—in all his years on the yacht, she and Daniel had never talked this way before, socially, personally. Then again, prior to the last couple of months, their time together had been more scattered—a day here, a weekend there. She raised her eyebrows at him, then in that very moment her eyes fell on a dark-haired girl with crab puffs across the way. The woman was probably around her own age with a rockin’ body shown to nice advantage in her surprisingly low-cut black waitressing vest.

“Oooh, nice ta-tas,” she said to Daniel. “Go for it, before she gets away.”

Daniel gave her a conspiring wink as he and his tray of wine flutes set off after the crab-puff chick—while Payton took a sip of chardonnay and felt a little jealous of Daniel for having someone to chase and maybe getting lucky tonight. Her pussy pulsed that much more as the vague image of Daniel and the crab-puff girl fucking in a corner somewhere combined with her already insane state of arousal.

And then—she saw
him
. Across the deck. Like Daniel, he carried a tray of wineglasses. Was she crazy? Was it
really
him? Because he’d been much farther away this morning, so maybe she was just imagining the resemblance.

Only she knew she wasn’t. She knew the hot waiter across the deck was the same man she’d exposed herself to so very brazenly this morning.

This party—and Key West itself—had just gotten a lot more interesting.

Holy hell. There she was. Looking like the last girl in the universe who would flash a guy. She was the picture of class and sophistication, from her fancy hairdo all the way down to her sexy high heels. And she was even more beautiful close-up.

His mind became like a digital camera, flipping back and forth between the refined young woman before him and the memory of her parting her robe for him this morning. He instantly liked knowing what her boobs and pussy looked like despite that no one else on this boat probably did.

“That would be Miss Payton Albright,” said a guy’s voice near his ear, complete with British accent.

Scott turned to find Daniel, the guy running the show for Mr. Albright tonight—he’d briefed the temporary staff in the yacht’s kitchen a little while ago.

And now that Scott had met Charles Albright—this morning on the dock—he had to ask. “The wife?”