CONTEMPLATION (Prelude to "A Word Between Friends")

Jenthegypsy

Kissing was rarely a part of it.

The whores weren't much for kissing. There was usually a quick buss to seal the bargain and another afterward, as the coin changed hands. Then, as he delivered a playful smack to a willing backside, he would be away.

The other, involving thrashing tongues and bruised lips, wasn't so much kissing as it was plundering. He was right fond of plundering, as were the well-bred ladies who sought him out. They had chaste kisses enough from their highborn husbands and wanted nothing so genteel as that from the pirate.

The well-worn fabric of these thoughts, woven with strands of similar contemplation throughout the years, began to unravel when she stepped into view. He was both surprised and slightly dismayed to follow the new thread that wove its way through his mind.

He looked at her as she stood before him and wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss her, to trace her brow with his fingertips, to follow the gentle curve of her cheek down to the line of her jaw. To take a strand of her hair and bring it to his lips, letting it play through his fingers and fall back onto her shoulder. He wanted to pass fingertips across her lips with a touch so light that she might think butterflies danced there, to gaze so long into her eyes that he became lost, unable to separate his soul from hers.

He thought that he might almost kiss her, and then hesitate, a mere breath away, to prolong the sweetness of the moment. He would glance into her eyes again and wait for them to drift closed. His weathered hands would rest ever so lightly along her neck, thumbs gently tilting her chin upward. He would lower his head and his own eyes would close as he breathed her name like a prayer.

Then they would kiss, for the first time.

Starting from his reverie, he realized that she had been speaking to him. Indeed, she appeared to be awaiting his reply. What had she been saying? He hadn't heard a word. Now she was asking if he were quite all right, reaching out in concern to brush her fingertips down the back of his hand.

He most certainly was not.

o o o o o

"Mr. Gibbs!" he bellowed as he stepped aboard the Pearl, "a flagon of rum and a pocket full of nuts to the helm, if you please. And I'd be obliged if you'd send Cotton's Parrot along as well. I … need to have a word."

fini

May 10, 2005 Prelude to A WORD BETWEEN FRIENDS