Life with Virgil had been so-comfortable. They had understood each other so well that neither had needed anybody else. But now Virgil was gone. She was alone. She was thirty-nine.
And she was still built just, like a brick shithouse-not a line on her smooth olive-skinned face! And she was wearing brief shorts and a practically obscene halter in front of these two sex-starved adolescents. She should have known better. It would serve her right if they ganged up on her and raped her.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, knowing damn well what the thirteen-year-old was looking at.
To her surprise he didn't blush and try to lie.
"Your legs," he said.
"Oh?" She tried to keep it impersonal, clinical. "Why?"
This time the boy was startled. "You don't know?" he asked.
Solemnly, Ted shook her head.
"Don't you-didn't you-?" Obviously the boy could not find the proper words to ask if grownups fucked or if this was just a brief phase to be outgrown like acne. Ted decided to continue playing innocent. Remembering the years of strained muscles it had cost her, she imperceptibly shifted until her superb body was in a pose that had been known to stiffen the pricks of marble statues. It was such a simple thing, once one knew how. Twist a foot here, cock a knee these, shoulders back and the first thing you knew every male in braying distance was panting at the line of firmly skyward pointing tit, the exposed surface of soft, kiss-inviting inner thigh, the long perfect curve of neck, back, ass, thighs all posed for the greatest erotic effect.
She saw the boy from the corner of her eye, his Levi's bulging even more precariously than the older boy's, his eyes glassy and his breathing ragged. She wondered if she could make him cum in his pants without touching him. Probably. But why be cruel? If she was going to make little boys cum it would be nicer for them to cum in.
"What is it I don't or didn't?" she probed.
"Uh-awwwww." He sighed. "You wouldn't know about it."
"Why?" Ted asked. "Is it something only boys your age know about?"
"Yeah," he said dispiritedly.
"Do girls your age know about it too?"
"I guess so."
"I guess I was born old like this," Ted said and sighed. "I don't suppose I was ever your age."
The boy gave her a sharp look. "You know about it?" he asked.
"I don't know whether I do or not," Ted said. "You still haven't told me what it is."
"I'm gonna hit that thing you told me to steer at!" Albert called from the cockpit.
Ted clambered up the scuttle and checked their position. The sloop was nearing the last buoy. She warned the boys to keep their heads down as the boom swung overhead, then threw the sloop over on the opposite tack. When it had settled down she got Albert's eyes off her legs long enough to learn how to steer a compass course. Then she went below again and back to making sandwiches with John.
"You know," he said.
Ted had forgotten what they were talking about.
"Know what?" she asked.
"You know why men look at girls' legs."
Suddenly she felt her whole belly turn to jelly, melt and flow into strange new shapes at the thought of this little boy touching…
"I've never been a man," she said carefully. "Tell me, why-are you looking at my legs?"
"Because they're nice."
"Flowers are nice too." She pointed at the gimbaled vase on the bulkhead.
"Yeah, but you can't-"
"Can't what?"
But John wasn't saying.
They finished making the hot dogs. She rummaged through the fridge and found cokes and they went on deck. She even managed to eat one of the hot dogs lest the boys think she was putting on unnecessary airs. "Where we going?" Albert asked.
"Well," she said, "to be honest there isn't anywhere closer than Hawaii if you keep heading the way were going. And at sundown the wind nearly always dies so I thought we'd just head out to sea for another couple of hours, then turn around and run before the wind. We'll get home in about one third of the time it takes to get out."
"Why do people do it?"
"I don't know," Ted said. "I suppose everybody has different reasons."
"How about you?" John asked.
"I worked very hard when I was a little girl," Ted said. "I was always surrounded by people. This yacht is the first time in my life I've ever been able to get off and be alone."
"What's so great about that?" Albert wanted to know.
Ted shrugged.
"What kind of work did you do?" John asked.
"I was a dancer."
"In the movies?"
"A couple," she admitted.
Neither boy spoke. When she looked up they were both looking at her legs.
Without thinking she stood and posed in the first position. While the boys watched openmouthed she went through the basic ballet positions, holding onto a sidestay as her arms and legs pointed in unexpectedly cock stiffening directions. "Jeez!" Albert said.
The jib fluttered. Just in time she jumped down beside him and grabbed the tiller. When the sloop had settled down again she warned, "You can get into real-trouble not watching the compass."
"Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Albert agreed.
They finished lunch and suddenly it was chilly. She thought about going below and changing back into slacks but both boys would be peeking and they'd surely forget about steering and there would be loud flapping noises and general unpleasantness as the sloop drifted off course. She compromised by slipping a parka on over her shorts and halter. Somehow the warm bulk of the hip length garment seemed to emphasize the bare length of her-legs.
Suddenly she felt the motion change and knew the boy was falling off his course. Then she looked up and saw it was not his fault. The wind had died until they no longer had steerageway.
"What now?" Albert asked. "You gonna start the motor?"
Ted shook her head. "It's only a little motor for docking. We'd be out of fuel in half an hour."
"So what do we do?"
"Wait."
"How long?"
"Until the wind decides to blow again. Don't worry," she consoled. "We'll have a breeze within an hour or two."
The sloop had worked around into the trough and was rocking with a sickening motion, mast and rigging creaking and cracking with each wave. She hoped the boys wouldn't get sick. They would, sure as hell, if they had time to sit around and think about it.
"Was you really in the movies?" John asked.
"Yes."
"What was it like?"
"Getting up real early, driving miles across town to a sound stage, and ten hours of hard work," she said.
"Hard work?" Plainly Albert didn't believe her.
"Try this," Ted said. She did the first three positions and tried to hide her amusement as the boys twisted and strained to imitate her.
"Ow!" In extending his leg Albert had caught the head of his hot throbbing cock in a fold of his Levi's. What, she wondered, would it be like to let him soak that hard-on inside her just long enough to remove the ache?
I've got to stop thinking crazy thoughts like this, she told herself. What had gotten into her anyway? She was a grown woman-thirty-nine. All that foolishness ought to be behind her. She sympathized with the two love-hungry boys but it was not her role to relieve their needs. Let them go find some girl their own age to experiment on.
She remembered her first experiments with Mr. Hammel. Thinking back, it was amazing how quickly and easily he had gotten her to undress and lie down on the couch in his office. She wondered if these boys would undress for her as quickly as she had for the impresario. Even now after all these years she remembered the odd tickle of his mustache between her thighs in the moment before his mouth had gaped wide to lock his lips against the wide-spread hairless lips of her gaping vulva.
Mr. Hammel had gone back to caressing her slim muscular body with both hands, running one over her incipient tits, the other tracing the gentle contours of her twelve-year-old ass. His mouth stayed glued to the hairless lips of her cunt. At first she had felt nothing. Only curiosity.