An Unexpected Turn
I walked into a popular pub in Tortuga and as I made my way over to the bar, I felt every single eye in the wholesome place turn and stick to me like my corset clings to my midriff.
"Get me some rum," I said to the barman a bit too forcefully.
"Hey sweetheart, what do you say we get out of this place so I can introduce myself properly, if you know what I mean?" said an elderly gentleman sitting next to me.
"What did you say?" I said, turning to face him.
"You heard me love. Don't worry, I don' bite," he said putting his arm around my shoulder and inching closer; his grey beard, along with his rotting teeth, smelled deeply of rum and God know what else.
I was really starting to get tired of this guy, so I took out my spare gun, that I keep safely in between my breasts, and pointed it sharply right in between his eyes.
"If you say one more word to me, I swear I will make sure it is the last thing you ever say, understand? Savvy?"
"I like 'em feisty," he whispered in my ear.
That was the last straw. I put my gun back in my dress, slapped my hands hard on his ears. Then I stamped on his foot with the heel of one of my shoes, kneed him in between the legs, elbowed him in the gut, and for a finish I took my gun back out and hit him hard on the back of his head.
When I saw him fall to the cold pub floor unconscious, I stepped over his body and pointed my gun fiercely at the rest of the people in the pub.
"Anyone else wanna have a go?" When nobody answered, I stuffed my gun back into my dress and took my seat at the bar.
"Where's my rum?" I said, even more irritated and forcefully than the first time.
The barman slapped a bottle on the table in front of me. I looked at the bottle and then back at him.
"Is this the best you got? Do you have a larger bottle; I'm kinda in a hurry."
"Sorry."
After another few minutes he returned with a bottle twice the size as the first one.
"That's better," I said as I reached into my dress and pulled out a small leather pouch. I then pulled out a single gold coin and slapped it onto the table, and then I stuck the pouch back into my dress, took my rum, and walked out of the bar to various cat calls.
When I got out into the chilly night air, I pulled off the cap of the rum with my teeth and took a large swig of the rum. Immediately, I felt better than I did before I set foot in the bar.
"Now what is a lovely young lady, like yourself, doing out here drinking rum by herself?"
Instinctively, I took out my gun and pointed it at the slimy bastard who was hitting on me. As I took another swig of the rum, I slowly turned to face the idiot. But when I actually saw the perpetrator, I almost spat out my rum in surprise. I immediately lowered my gun and stuffed it easily back into my dress.
"It never ceases to amaze me just how much, and what, you can fit in there," he said looking at my chest with a slight smirk.
"Jack Sparrow," I said as calmly as nothing had just happened. "It has been too long. The last time I saw you was in Singapore."
He was wearing his usual dreadlocks that he wore with beads knotted in them, and by the looks of his hair, I would bet all my money that he hadn't washed it in months, probably even years. . . . Anyway, his black baggy pants were tucked into his black boots that were now a shade of light brown due to mud and . . . other "stuff". On top he wore a very loose fitted white colored shirt. He was carrying a navy blue jacket on his left arm and, to complete the ensemble, sitting very proudly on top of his head was his usual and beloved once jet black hat, which had now lost most of its color, that he had had for as long as I have known him.
"Beatrix, love, it's Captain Jack Sparrow now. Now give me some rum; I haven't had any in so long!"
I handed him the bottle, with much reluctance, and he immediately took the longest gulp I think I had ever seen; I had forgotten just how much he loved the drink.
"So what brings you to Tortuga? The last time I heard your name on this island you were on a mission to get back a ship; the Pink Diamond or something?"
"The Black Pearl?"
"Yeah, that's it!"
"Ancient history, love," he said, taking another large swig, emptying over half of the bottle by this point, and it resulted in him almost falling over drunk.
"Jack, you're a mess," I said, doing my best to keep him standing upright. "Here, I'll take you back to my bakery where you can rest for a bit. You must be starving anyway."
I then took the rum bottle out of his right hand and threw it to the ground. This action angered Jack; he has been known to get a bit "upset" if someone comes between him and his rum, I got off lucky . . . very lucky.
"Why'dyuhdozat? Now – now zehrumssgone," he slurred in outrage; the way he always does when he's drunk.
"No it's not, Jack, no it's not," I said gently as I took his coat and then swung his arm over my shoulder so that he was supported and wouldn't fall over as easily. "Don't worry; I have a big jar filled to the brim with rum. I got it especially for you. It's sitting in my kitchen right now."
I kept talking softly and gently to him all the way to my bakery in order to keep him calm and quiet.
My shop is pretty small and I have limited supplies because the king won't pay for new utensils and such, but I work with what I have. What other choice do I have, really? I don't have the best bakery in Tortuga. No, that's Madam Giselle. I'm probably the second or third choice that the Tortugans go to.
My shop may be on the smaller scale, but it's literally my home. It has two stories: in the front half of the ground floor is where I do all of the baking for my customers. In the back is the living room and dining rooms. The second floor is where I sleep and I have two extra bedrooms, just in case.
I took the drunken Captain Jack Sparrow, to the living room in the back of the shop. I laid him down on the better of the two couches (i.e. the one that hasn't been beaten up by my cat, Oliver). Resting on the back of the couch was the quilt that my mother made for me when I was hardly a toddler. I took it off of the back of the couch and stretched it out across his body; the poor man was shivering and trembling from the chilliness of the outside air.
"Now you just stay there, Captain Sparrow, and I'll be right back with that rum I promised," I said, waiting for a reply. But when I got no such thing, except for a low groan, I decided to let go of the silly wish, no way in hell was I going to get any answer out of a drunk man who was probably unconscious by this point.
So I hurried out of the living room and into the bakery. I lit a few candles and instead of getting him rum, I got him some tea that had the same color as rum. I placed the mug it was in inside of on a wooden tray, along with two slices bread that had just gotten out of the oven. When I returned to the living room, I knelt down beside him with the tray resting in my lap.
"Hey love," he said, his words a bit slurred. "Where's the rum?"
"Right here," I said, giving him the mug that had the tea in it.
He took a sip and then spat it back out.
"That is not rum," he said with a look of disgust painted on his face.
"No it's not," I confessed. "More rum is the last thing a man in your condition needs, may he be a pirate or not."
"What do you know about it?"
"Because, Jack Sparrow, my father drank every single minute of every single day for as long as I can remember. He eventually came to the point when his body couldn't hold any more. He passed out on that very couch that you are laying on and he never regained consciousness."
By now, I was on my feet staring him down with daggers. Hopefully he was well enough to realize that I was doing this because I cared about him, a lot.
When he noticed I had gotten up, he got up too and came so close that he was only a breath away. He brought his face even closer to mine. His mouth was right next to my ear, almost like he was about to tell me something. I could feel his warm breath against the left side of my face. I could hear his breathing in my ear; it was soft and deep, but still noticeable. And then, he spoke softly.
"I like a woman in control."
I could feel a flirtatious smile bestow upon my face. He was bold; I like it. I liked it a lot.
"Jack Sparrow, you are something else, aren't you?"
"I can't be helped when I see something I want."
"And what would that be, Captain?" I asked, flashing him flirtatious eyes while I gently rubbed my fingers up and down his arm.
"I think you already know, love."
I then closed what little space between us was left as I kissed him on the lips. He let my hair fall down and then he slowly ran his fingers through the black ringlets in a sort of massaging manner. I took his hat off his head and did the same thing, bringing his face closer to mine. I then began to gyrate my hips against his pelvis and I could feel his grip on me tighten. His kiss started to get more fierce and passionate. I could taste his lips; they tasted strongly of rum, but it was okay. I didn't care. He then grabbed hold of my face in his rough pirate hands and began to push me backwards until I hit the wall with a soft thud. I then wrapped my right leg around his left leg to increase the friction of my gyrating. A low groan was released from the back of his throat and I knew that I was in control.
We eventually found our way up to my bedroom and preformed an age old dance, uniting our bodies and much more.
He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe what she had done to him. It was incredible, yet at the same time it was a completely intimidating experience, and he loved every minute of it. But it was just so unexpected that's what kept him for so long, curiosity. Who in their right mind would have thought that Beatrix Night was capable of such skill and perfection? He always knew, since the day they met in Singapore when they were just eighteen, that she was the woman for him, a treasure never to be lost in the right hands, but he had a feeling that there was more to her than what met the eye. He found out what it was shortly after their meeting, or he thought so anyway. When her father's ship was about to be taken over, she pulled out a loaded pistol, a sword, and a knife and proceeded to kill every single man that even thought about getting in between her and the ship.
It was that moment, when he saw her accuracy when he shot the gun at anyone who stood in her way, or her determination as she plunged her sword in the ungrateful bastards, when he fell madly head-over-heels for her. But, being Jack Sparrow, he didn't tell her. And now, he finally realized, after all these years, why she fell for her in the first place. It wasn't for her looks, her body, or how well she could shoot a gun, oh no, no, no; it was her heart, how she was able to love even the most hateful creatures on earth, how she could find beauty in the most simple or ugly thing, and how she could care for someone or something with as much force and passion as she expressed with her father's ship in Singapore, how she expressed the same passion with him tonight, even if that person didn't deserve it. And he was definitely one of the people who didn't deserve her.