I sighed. I hated this job. In a way it was good, because I knew I wasn't being treated differently because of my gender, he didn't think I was weaker then the men. But I still bloody hated doing it. One of the most pointless and time consuming things to do aboard a ship. Moving bloomin' crates around the hold.
He was planning another raid, wanting as much room down here as possible so we could take as much as possible. There wasn't much left down here as it was, so I was by myself while the others prepared. I didn't mind that, I prefer doing my jobs alone whenever I can, means I don't have to put up with stupid assholes staring at my chest the entire time or asking me pointless questions in hopes that they'll get into my pants. They're more likely to become a eunuch if they're not careful. No, it wasn't being alone doing the most pointless job that bothered me. Truth be known, I didn't know what was bothering me.
I grunted as I took hold of a heavy crate full of some form of liquid that wasn't rum. Oh no, that liquid would never be stashed away at the back of the hold where he couldn't get to it easily. I don't make the most ladylike sounds as I do my jobs, but then, I'm not exactly ladylike am I?
Oh sure, I was once a snivelling little girl that dreamt of marriage and babies and a home. I was naive back then. But that's not me anymore, that hasn't been me for a very long time. I think, roughly, it's been seven years since I last wore a dress. It was a wedding dress, actually. My father had been planning to sell me on to some rich developer. The rich developer was fifty, fat and utterly disgusting, and I couldn't stand the thought of having to spend out my days with him. Sure, if I'd have been luckily, he would've died before me but the likes of him never die out quickly do they. They stick around for as long as possible like vermin.
Sighing, I take a step back and look at what I've done so far. Then I move to change round some of the crates. This job is like doing a jigsaw without the picture to help. You have to find where each crate fits the best, to take up as little room as possible. That's what takes up the time, you see.
I pause as I hear the heavy clunk of boots on the stairs, coming down towards me. I don't need to turn around to see who it is. The way the footsteps sound on the wooden stairs is enough to alert me which person has come to bother me.
"Can I help you, Captain?" I'm really not in the mood to be bothered today. Everything is ticking me up the wrong way; the smallest thing might make me snap. And if I do that, I'll end up in the brig missing the whole thing. And I love battles. Best way to get out all that pent up anger and frustration you don't realize you have.
He doesn't reply. I just hear the swagger of his steps come closer. I'm already starting to wish he would go away, leave me alone to do the rest of the job he'd trusted me with. There's not much left to do. Three or four crates.
I move forward, beginning to shift another box. I haven't turned to greet him, and he hasn't said a word to me. I feel his eyes boring into my back, watching my every move as I work. That's another thing I can't stand. People watching me. Drives me up the wall.
"Sir?" I say, as I shove the box into a hole. Perfect fit.
I stand admiring the work I've done so far as I hear his steps come closer to me, so he's standing directly behind me. I want to turn, to ask him what he wants but I don't. We stand there, neither of us moving.
His hands go to my shoulders, as though he's going to give me a massage. Immediately my muscles tense up, like they're protecting themselves. His mouth moves to my ear, his voice lower then normal.
"You're tense, Maria. You need to relax." How the hell am I supposed to relax? The heavy feel of his hands on my shoulders are doing strange things to me, and I don't understand it. My heart has sped up to an alarming rate, like it's nervous or anticipating something. I don't move or respond.
Slowly he takes one of his hands from my shoulder, and lets his fingers run up the side of my neck. They're cool compared to my skin, which has heated so much it feels like its burning. His fingers reach to just below my earlobe, brushing ever so slowly across a sensitive spot I have there, and I can't stop the shiver. I can feel the goosebumps all over my skin; having risen from this simple attention he is giving my neck.
He lowers his mouth and ghosts his lips where his fingers had been moments before. Seriously, if he keeps this up, my heart is going to explode it's beating so fast. My mind is screaming at me, telling me to turn around and slap the hell out of him but somehow I can't bring myself to move.
Then, all too soon for my bodies liking it would seem, he takes a step back removing his hands from my body. When he speaks again, his voice is of the same volume as before, but it's changed in a way. And I can't put my finger on what it is.
"Battle is in six hours or so. Get some rest. You're going to need it." With that he turns and walks out of the hold, away from me.
I let out the shaky breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, feeling slightly dizzy. "Get a hold of yourself woman." I say to myself, shaking my head as though to clear my thoughts. The goosebumps are still on my skin, which still feels as though it's on fire. I take a few deep breaths; trying to compose myself, and then carry on finishing the job I'd been given.
No one likes to leave a job that's been started, unfinished. Do they?
A/N Reviews are nice :o)
Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack Sparrow... Damn them!