Chapter 1: A Navigation Lesson
The shrill ringing of the mobile phone woke me up. I groped for it on the edge of the bunk, sliding my finger to answer it.
— Hello? I said, half-awake.
— Son! I have a job for you!
— Marco, it’s my day off! I grumbled.
I rubbed my eyes. I checked the time; 10:30! I put my feet on the teak floor and staggered to the dining area. The beer bottles were still on the table, remnants of the previous evening. I grabbed a glass of water and dropped in a vitamin tablet.
— Listen, son, Mr. LeGault is here, he’s coming for his daughter’s sailing lesson, Marco whispered authoritatively. Come quick!
— OK, OK! Let me get ready and I’ll be right there.
I stepped into the shower, then grabbed my blue Bermuda shorts and a clean polo shirt. I swallowed the vitamin cocktail, locked the cabin door, and walked back up to pontoon number 5 where my boat—well, my father’s boat—was moored. Marco’s offices were in front of number 1. The sun was already reflecting its rays on the turquoise water stretching out before the port of Nassau. It promised to be a beautiful day. I approached Marco’s office, and Mr. LeGault came to meet me. I took off my Ray-Bans to greet him. The man in his sixties was dressed like all the wealthy men in the Bahamas: a white linen shirt and trousers, a Rolex on his wrist. It was practically a uniform here!
— Hello Cali, he greeted me. I was telling Marco that I valued you greatly and that I couldn’t entrust this course to anyone else. These days, young men your age have little respect, and I have faith in your professionalism.
Behind him was Julia, his daughter. She was looking at me, biting her fingers. Her father couldn’t see what she was doing, and I had to remain impassive. Which was far from easy. Julia was playing with her short linen dress, riding it up high on her golden thighs. She quickly pulled it down again whenever her father, or Marco, turned to look at her.
— I have a meal in town, so I’m leaving Julia in your care.
— Excuse me, I said, coming out of my reverie.
— I know I tend to want to interrupt when you’re giving your navigation lessons. So, this time, I won’t disturb your teaching, the American explained. I doubted your abilities, but at twenty-five, you’re almost as good as me!
— That’s too much of an honor, sir, I stammered. Your experience at sea is invaluable and your advice precious.
— Don’t talk nonsense, I know from Marco that your late father was a very good skipper. You get that from him. I saw it, you have the sea in your blood.
I didn’t know what to say. A good skipper, like my father? If he were so good, he’d still be here instead of resting at the bottom of the ocean somewhere between here and Bermuda!
— Good boy! Marco called out. Let’s go!
— I’ll come and pick up Julia around seven o’clock, said Mr. LeGault. Two thousand dollars should be enough.
— Robert, that’s way too much, Marco tried to say.
— You have one of the best skippers, so accept it.
He turned to his daughter, who was all smiles at the ripe old age of twenty-two, arms behind her back, skipping lightly.
— I’m counting on you, Julia. You follow Cali’s instructions to the letter!
— Yes, Father! she replied mischievously, kissing him on the cheek. I promise.
— Okay, see you later.
I was walking towards the Saffier SC, an 8-meter boat that Marco had bought from a South American yachtsman last year. It served as our training vessel, and for its length, it was quite well-equipped, notably with a small interior cabin for shelter in case of a squall. Marco had handed me the weather reports, and on that front, there was nothing to worry about—a few headwinds, but that wouldn’t bother us at all. The only whirlwind I had to watch out for was the platinum blonde young woman skipping behind me. But behind that carefree air was a very mature mind. She would be starting her second year at MIT next September. I climbed aboard and took my place on the starboard side.
— Very well, miss, it’s your turn! We’re going to set sail.
— You know, Cali! My father isn’t here, so you can call me Julia!
She recited the entire procedure to me and began preparing the boat. About fifteen minutes later, we left the port at slow speed, heading 180 towards George Town, an island south of Nassau, as her father waved goodbye.
The harbor had disappeared for almost an hour, and Julia was handling the helm well, making adjustments to the sail when necessary. I watched her, correcting her purely for appearances’ sake. She knew how to sail, and I was proud of my student. I had taught her everything during that month and a half. I occasionally helped her hold or readjust some of the lines.
— I think you’ve got your record! We’ve never been so fast approaching Allens Cay! I congratulated her.
— As my father says, I have the best teacher! And the cutest too! she said, winking at me.
— Something tells me that our meeting was not accidental! I probed her.
— Yes, a friend told me about you, and that’s why I convinced my father to come spend our holidays here in Nassau! she explained. And I don’t regret taking her advice!
I looked at her sideways, trying to understand what she meant by that!
— I don’t know who you’re talking about! I laughed uncomfortably.
— But yes! You remember Edwige!
It started like a bad movie! Edwige! Yes, I remembered! It was a few months ago, a student… from MIT! She’d come to Nassau for her spring break. Our relationship ended when she left. Julia smiled at me; she could see I remembered her. What could she have possibly said about me?
— Can you take the helm? I’ll be right back! she called out to me.
— Yes, of course, but where do you want to go?
— Change clothes ! Of course! she replied, smiling at me.
She entered the changing room and took off her dress, revealing herself in just her lace thong. Still with her back to me, she slid it down and put on the bottoms of a swimsuit, pulling it up high on her hips and concealing the thin strip of fabric between her buttocks. She tied a simple band around her chest and came back to me.
— There! I’m more comfortable now! You should do the same!
— Julia, I tried to say.
— Come on, take off that polo shirt! You’ll feel much better! she urged me. Besides, we’re far enough away from the roads!
She had it all figured out! We were going to approach Allens Cay from the east, where few skippers ventured because it was riddled with reefs. I gave in and threw my polo shirt in the cabin. She smiled at me, a captivating smile. She took the helm again and veered off towards the bay. I had nothing to do, so I watched her sail. It was the first time I’d seen her in a swimsuit. When we first met, she was always in her skipper’s gear or a summer dress. I noticed her heart-shaped tattoo on her hip.
— Instead of staring at me! Make yourself useful! I don’t want a sunburn!
— I wasn’t staring at you! I protested.
— I know, you’re a gentleman, Cali! Come on, please!
— I’m not sure that’s reasonable.
— That I’ll get sunburned? No, indeed, so put some cream on my back! she ordered.
I applied a small amount of cream and spread it on her back. Once that was done, I applied the lotion to her arms, then put the bottle back.
— And the bottom, she reminded me.
— Julia, I pleaded.
— When Beth asks you to put sunscreen on her, you do it!
— That has nothing to do with it, she’s my girlfriend!
— Yeah, well, girlfriend or not, I don’t want to look like a lobster!
I applied the lotion to her legs and moved up to her buttocks; the temptation was strong, and I tried to restrain myself so as not to be misinterpreted. I also quickly moved over her shoulders and stomach. But she didn’t like it, and as I was about to remove my hand, she grabbed it and used it to spread the cream all over her torso.
— Thank you! Your turn now! Take the helm, I wouldn’t want my teacher to get sunburned!
She began to spread the cream, which wasn’t strictly necessary; I had the same Mediterranean skin as my father. Yet, she carefully applied the lotion to my back, her movements more like caresses. Then, she sat facing me on my lap to work on my chest. She applied the lotion there, then spread it, pushing it towards my arms. She repeated this several times, starting lower and lower, at the edge of my shorts. Each time she moved up, she looked me straight in the eyes. Her eyes were the same turquoise color as the water surrounding us. Her breasts brushed against my chest. The fabric was taut, the tips of her breasts straining to pierce the thin material. Julia placed her hands on my hips and grasped the edges of the garment. She slowly slid the elastic down, revealing the lower part of my abdomen. She couldn’t ignore the state I was in. She was playing with me, and I had to resist. She lowered her hands to the edge of my penis without touching it, then moved them back up to place a kiss on my chest.
— There, that way you have nothing to fear!
— Was it really necessary?
— Yes! The first rule when sailing is to be safe! You’re the one who taught me that!
— Then get back to sailing and guide us through these reefs! I ordered him with a big smile.
— At your service, Professor! she greeted, placing a kiss on my cheek.
I handed the helm back to her without a word, not knowing what to say, what to think, and above all, I had to be careful. Her father worked for the American government, and if I did or tried to do anything, I risked paying a very high price. But I couldn’t help watching her. Since we met, she’d played with me the same way she played with the other guys on the island: provocative, flirtatious, but she never crossed the line. At no point did she give the slightest hint of a possibility or an opening. Yet, with me, she acted differently; I think she was herself, without a mask, without pretense. She was completely natural. She paced the boat, adjusting the sails. Every time she passed near me, she brushed against me. When she grabbed a rope, she leaned towards me, thrusting her backside in my direction. She turned to see my reaction. I simply nodded to acknowledge her maneuver. But which of the two? Suddenly, a contrary gust of wind redirected the sail and forced us to tack. She grabbed the rope to pull the sail back to its original position. I stood up and positioned myself behind her to help. My muscles were tense; the current and the wind were pushing us toward the reefs. Slowly, the gentle click of the locking mechanisms rewarded our maneuver. With a final effort, we pulled on the rope, her body pressing against mine. We held the tension for several long minutes before, finally, the sailboat resumed its course. Slowly, we released the rope.
— It was tense! I finally said, not daring to move.
— Mmh yes, I can feel that! she remarked.
I looked down; my shorts were distorted, and the bulge had pressed into her buttock crease. She turned her head and kissed me close to my lips.
— Thanks for the help, she smiled at me.
I felt helpless. I went back to the helm to readjust the course while she secured the ropes. Ahead of us, Allens Cay beach was taking shape between the reefs.
