CAPTAIN GREGG'S WHIZ BANG

By Kathy

Mrs. Muir needs money to pay for a new plumbing system, but cannot think of any new stories, so the captain literally becomes a ghost writer. She tones down his risque story, but before it is mailed to Feminine View, in Boston, the Captain puts the racy stuff back in and the magazine publisher, Ellsworth Gorden, loves it. The story gives Carolyn a bit of a reputation in town and the captain comes to her rescue when the wolfish publisher tries to get too familiar with her.

GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM

She took off his boots? Carolyn turned to her right side and punched her pillow in, trying to scrunch it to fit her head. This was quickly becoming a night of little sleep and she could ill afford it. She had an article for Portland Pastimes to write, on a day trip to Schooner Bay and miracle of miracles, Feminine View wanted another one as well — on how women's reading habits had changed over the years. That one would take at least a day or two of research at the Bangor Library, but would be well worth it.

She took off his boots? There had to be more to the story than that — Which of course there was. And she didn't want to think about it, except for the fact that she was dying to know. She had told him she would remove his boots for a reward of coming to her rescue. It wasn't that she couldn't have handled the scoundrel, she had fought off more lecherous men then he had been, but she loved the fact that Captain Gregg had actually done so.

It was completely sweet and utterly heroic and it thrilled her to think he would do that for her. He had become visible to a human and he had done so willingly. And if truth were told she had enjoyed watching him. If he had been that dashing today, imagine what he must have looked like in a brawl — no shirt, his hair curly from the sweat of his exertions, his face determined, muscles flexing...

You've gone too far now, Carolyn. Stick to the facts, not the details. Once you start thinking about him that way, there is no turning back. You know how you are. Just remember that he is a ghost, a spirit, a poltergeist, not a man. But, oh, he used to be a man. A man that let a young attractive woman take off his boots...

To distract herself she picked up the magazine article with her... um.... HIS story in it and started to read. It was good, she thought, as she finished the first page. It reminded her very much of the Harlequin romances her aunt brought her back from Canada. But it was even better than that, as it was well written and had sexual tension. Not to mention plenty of playing pirate by the esteemed Captain Joshua Webster. Finishing the story, she placed the magazine back on the bedside table and tried once more to find sleep. But it just wasn't there. Thinking of Captain Gregg in such a romantic light was hard on her nocturnal habits.

Carolyn flipped over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. So because he had saved her life and more importantly, she was sure for the time, the girl's virginity — he received the saved virtue as a gift. Something seemed wrong about that equation, but she wasn't sure what at the moment. She would have to think about that later, when she was more awake.
Back to the left side, she took the pillow out from under her head, and cradled it against her. She always liked holding something while she slept — a stuffed animal, her beloved dog Amos, a child, a pillow, a man... She took off his boots?

It was sweet of him to care about her reputation. She supposed she didn't really care, but she hadn't appreciated all the calls. Maybe if they had left their names. Carolyn, what are you thinking?

She put the pillow back under her head and turned to the right side. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, — her breath was getting heavier. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 — her body was going limp. 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 — Blast that Mrs. Coburn for bringing the kids home just when she had. If she hadn't maybe she could have carried through with her offer of taking off his boots. But it would have been literally, not in the way he was using it. Would his boots even come off?

...16, 17, 18, — There was so much she still needed to learn about spirits. Oh, a nice glass of vodka would be good right now, especially if it was pored over crushed ice and had a splash of cranberry juice. She could almost taste it. Not that kind of spirit, Carolyn. Now go to sleep.

...19, 20. She felt the sleep take over and her body surrendered. It was nice to finally summit. Sleep, she loved sleep…

She took off his boots?