THANK YOU SO MUCH, I WILL TRY SPEED UP THE CHAPTER AND MAKE IT MORE EVENTFUL! JUST HOPE IT DOESN'T SEEM TOO RUSHED!
CHAPTER NINE
CHRISTIAN POINT OF VIEW
As my little "situation" clearly isn't getting better on it's own, I decide I have to take matters into my own hands.
"Er, I need to go to the bathroom," I state lamely, the only excuse I can come up with. "You think you'll be alright, Captain?"
Anastasia turns to glance over at me behind her shoulder; Her eyes wide, eyebrows high. The look is almost comical yet, dare I think it, also sweetly endearing. "Go to the bathroom? As in now?" Her voice is high and shaky with panic. "But your boat?" She shakes her head from side to side, strands of her hair still blowing around us wildly. "Um, Mr Grey, Christian, I...I don't know how to steer this thing properly?"
I scan our surroundings, squinting through the breeze and salt water that stings in my eyes. "You're doing great," I assure her, in my most gentle voice. "Just like I said, keep the wheel as straight as possible. There isn't any land ahead of us so you'll be fine."
Still, she doesn't seem too convinced. She bites her lip, glancing forward again towards the hull of the boat where my daughter is lounging around, being lazy and antisocial. "I... I really don't know," she mutters through the wind. "I mean, you really trust me to leave me alone steering this thing?"
"Of course I do. I'll leave her in your entirely capable hands for a few minutes." The quicker I get some privacy to attend to my situation, the better it will be. I'm reduced to feeling like an awkward, hormonal adolescent again."I won't be long, I promise."
She turns sideways again to meet my gaze, and for the first time, it occurs to me that she's shivering. Her chin is wobbling from the cold, her shoulders trembling. I can only just imagine how cold my daughter is as well, and crazily enough, she's in the thick of it, lounging around in the chaise near the hull where it tends to get dangerously wet with sea water splashing.
Luckily, I always come prepared with back-up.
"I'll get you and Katherine a jacket on the way back," I tell her. "I have spares in the cabin."
Leaving her to it, I practically jog towards the cabin, getting in doors. I open the inbuilt wardrobe I have in the bedroom, grabbing two jackets out, throwing them on the bed. Then I squeeze into the bathroom and shut the door securely closed, finally taking care of business.
Still, I don't even know what's wrong with me.
Shaking my head, I unbutton my trousers, yanking them down to my knees. Leaning a hand against the door for support due to the boats hazardous rocking, I grip myself with a sigh, shutting my eyes. I haven't had an erection for a while, probably because I've been too emotional and filled with grief for it to happen. Honestly, since the divorce, sex has been the furthest thing from my mind and my libido has since suffered.
My ex wife and I used to have a fairly adventurous sex life, but that was months before our final serious arguments started and how she began treating me with disdain and no longer was interested in sex with me. No doubt, the bitch ex and her asshole partner were fucking behind my back. He was probably fulfilling her 'need', so she didn't need to get any sexual relief from me. Jesus. Why is it that I am always thinking of her and feeling such bitterness all the time?
Shaking my head again to clear my mind, I lean my forehead against the cool door, focusing with my eyes shut, stroking myself. Down the shaft to the tip, tighten at the head, then up again. Repeat the process.
Fractured images fill my mind as I start breathing loudly, loosening up, getting into it. A beautiful pair of perky tits. A taunt, firm ass. Her ass gyrating up against my crotch while I helped her steer the boat. The soot-black thick lashes of her pale-blue eyes as she blinks up at me, curiously, inquisitively... How her lower lip seems to be perfectly plump, how she has a habit of sinking her teeth into it...
One last stroke as various images flash vividly into my mind, I come, shooting into my palm while stifling and muffling down my moan by slapping my free hand over my mouth. I shudder and pant heavily into my hand, everything clearing wonderfully. All that resentment and bitterness for the bitch ex disperses for one beautiful quiet moment.
And it's bliss, a satisfying peaceful calm wave of euphoria. Something I haven't felt in such a long fucking time. Perhaps I need to jack off more often?
Trying to calm my breathing, I focus on cleaning up. I grab a roll of toilet paper, cleaning the sticky after-come from my fingers and my hands. As I toss it into the trash, I wash my hands, wiping them dry on a hand towel. Then, slowly, I reach down, pulling up my trousers over my knees, my now-limp cock, making myself decent again.
Then it starts to sink in again, that disgust and self-loathing with myself. I brought my daughter and her friend out on a trip and, here I am, in the bathroom, jacking off? I got a hard-on because my daughter's sweet friend accidentally brushed her backside against me, something that was purely incidental and due to the swaying on the boat, nothing more, nothing less.
How utterly pathetic can I be?
Hell, if I was Anastasia's father and I knew her friend's father got an erection due to her, I'd castrate him. The mere thought of even some old fogey getting off on my daughter... I shudder and grimace at myself in the mirror as I breathe in through my nose deeply.
Grabbing the towel, I wipe around my forehead and my cheeks, trying to get that "dirty" feeling off me. But if I rationalize it, it's utterly normal. 9, 12, 18, 38, it's utterly a normal reaction for a man, boy, whatever to get an erection by simply something as innocent as a young woman's firm derriere brushing against their groin. It's natural and any man, my age, boy or otherwise, would have had the exact same thing happen to them.
It wasn't because I feel anything sexual for my daughter's friend. There's no... sexual attraction there. Intellectually, perhaps, because during our conversations together, she does have a tendency to make me feel happier and somewhat... appreciated when she shows interest in my interests. But that does not mean I want to do inappropriate things with a young girl my daughter's age merely because a natural reaction happened due to the friction of her backside brushing against me.
Feeling better, I comb my fingers through my hair, giving myself a stern warning to relax and let it go, that everything's normal, it doesn't make me a fucking pervert, before I open the bathroom door. I only just remember to grab the jackets on the way out to give to the girls.
Heading out with the jackets hooked to each forefinger, my eyes land straight on Anastasia from where she stands, manning the wheel. She looks like a natural, and I can tell she's relaxed now. She's more confident in her ability now.
Steering a boat isn't that complicated. Otherwise, if it was, I'd be a sheer failure at it myself, no doubt.
As I head towards her, my little session repeats in my head. What I thought of, at the time, almost senselessly, automatically to get myself off.
Her ass gyrating up against my crotch while I helped her steer the boat.
The closer I get towards her, the more I recognize she's wearing shorts that belong to my daughter. Seeing as Anastasia is taller than my daughter by a decent amount, they reach up mid-thigh. Her thighs are smooth and flawless, supple. No dimples or little stretchmarks yet.
"How are we doing, fellow Sailor?" I ask from her from behind, trying to make a joke. She spins her head back to look at me, taking in the jackets I'm carrying with a tight-lipped, genuine smile.
The soot-black thick lashes of her pale-blue eyes as she blinks up at me, curiously, inquisitively...
"I... I think we're doing okay, Christian. So far I haven't rammed the boat into anything, so I'm assuming that's a good sign, right?" She glances down at her feet, removing her hands from the wheel quickly as she turns around so that I can help her put the jacket on. The jacket belongs to me, and of course, it's too big for her. The other jacket will even definitely be too big for Kate, but I'm sure that will make it all the more warmer. "Thank you, it's so much warmer now," she mutters, taking over. She quickly yanks the zipper up, before lifting her gaze to mine again fleetingly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
How her lower lip seems to be perfectly plump, how she has a habit of sinking her teeth into it...
Oh, shit.
"You think you'll be able to manage a bit longer while I go check on Katherine and give her a jacket?" I ask, my throat tightening at the realization.
She nods and reaches over, her slender fingers curling over the wheel again. I shake my head as I force myself away from her, stepping carefully near the railing towards where my daughter is. Fuck, she was the attractive figment of my imagination, the inspirational fantasy inside my head to enable me to get off smoothly.
It was just thinking about her, I try to reason as I tread carefully towards my daughter, bunching up the jacket in both hands. Thinking is completely different from doing. I haven't met a woman in quite a while, so using her as inspiration, it was harmless. If I was intending to do something about it, however... Which I wouldn't, because that would be utterly inappropriate and indecent. She's a beautiful, intelligent thoughtful young woman. It isn't like I'm trying to be the Humbert to her Lolita or some shit like that. She'll never know.
"Hey, sweetie," I say, announcing myself over the rush of waves as I crouch down near my daughter. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," she mumbles.
"Here, put this on." I hand her the jacket. She does what I'm expecting her to do; She rolls her eyes. "You're cold, so wear it."
"Fine," she mutters again, this time with annoyance. "But I'm not even that cold."
"Really?" I chuckle as I reach over, pinching one of her legs, which is covered in goosebumps. "What do you call those then? You're shivering!"
"There, I put it on," she says after she zips it up, staring at me with playful defiance. "Happy now?"
"Very. I don't want you or Anastasia catching a cold out here." I peer back Anastasia's way quickly. "Why don't you tell her to come over and share the chaise with her?"
She shrugs while looking back herself, one hand going into her hair, smoothing the wayward strands of blonde hair out of her face, "She seems perfectly happy learning how to drive the boat with you."
"She's probably bored but is too polite to say it. Why don't you call her over?"
"Okay. I will."
I hesitate, before standing. I realize I really ought to tell my daughter about this thing Gail is arranging, but when I look her over, it occurs to me that I have no idea how to tell her. I have no fucking idea how to tell my daughter that Gail is setting me up on a date, that I'm going to try see someone, the 1st time in 3 years. Mostly, I'm worried about how Katherine will take the news. Will she be upset that I'm attempting to move on from her Mom? Will that make our divorce seem more real to her and, inevitably due to that, will it open up some fresh emotional wounds?
In the end, I give up, returning back to where Anastasia is. Talking to my daughter right now, when it's been a somewhat pleasant day, I don't want to risk somehow ruining it.
ANASTASIA POINT OF VIEW
After a very nice yet nerve-wracking time steering The Grace for a while, Christian takes over, sending me to where Kate is on the boat, relaxing in a seat. She shoves over so I can sit beside her, and we talk for a while about random things while staring out at the gorgeous view of the ocean. Then, about what seems half an hour later, Christian turns the boat around and we start heading back the way we came.
Once we get to the marina, Christian ties a rope around a staff, securing his boat. He helps us off one at a time; First, Kate, then me. I feel myself flushing when he grips around my waist strongly with both hands, his biceps flexing, helping me jump over off the boat.
The 3 of us return back to where Christian parked his car, and just my luck, I get the passengers seat this time right next to him, while Kate sits in the back.
"Hope you girl's had a good time?" Christian asks while slotting the key into the ignition, starting his car up.
"We did, Dad," Kate speaks up, sort of sleepily from behind me in her seat at the back. I can't blame her for feeling a bit sleepy and withdrawn.
Surprisingly, being on a boat and having the wind thrash you around takes a lot out of you.
"It was great, thank you," I murmur with a smile, and he glances at my side then twists back on the seat to check on something near Kate.
"Both securely buckled up?" he asks. I hear Kate sigh in the backseat.
"Yes, Dad. We are! You're so paranoid!"
"Just checking," he mutters, waving her comment off. "Better to be safe than sorry."
The car ride gets weirdly quiet after that. I try to keep my eyes on either my knotted fingers in my lap, or out the window at the view. But twice, I fail; Like always, my eyes are drawn to him.
The third time I fail, I stare at his hands, how his fingers are flexed tightly around the steering wheel. The prominent veins on his knuckles, the slight curve of his wrists. He has a light dusting of fair hair on his arms, just the lightest, fairest bit. I never knew it was possible to admire every part of someone, until... my crush on this man. My eyes roam higher, up his shirt, to the few buttons that are undone around the collar. Those small smatterings of hair around his chest, how broad his shoulders seem. Then... higher. My stomach squirms with a weird feeling as I watch his face. He is completely distracted and focused on driving, his expression absorbed. Then he brings out his tongue, licking his bottom lip as he drives. That squirming feeling gets even more intense.
I smile to myself as I force my eyes back down at my lap again. I feel all warm, all soft and melty. I really sometimes wish I would just get over this silly infatuation.
I hear him clear his throat gently next to me in the drivers seat. "So you had a good time?"
I peer up again, finding him staring right at me. He's directing the question at me, silly. "I did. It was great."'
"And you didn't feel too sick at all?" He's referring to my comment earlier when I told him about my 1st experience on a boat with one of my mom's ex's. My heart seems to race in happiness because he's remembered me telling him that. Not that it's even such a big deal, though, him remembering. He's just being his usual nice self, of course.
"Surprisingly no, I didn't. Not at all. It must have been... different when I was younger."
"Then I'm glad you enjoyed it. You handled the boat very well."
"It was very nerve-wracking," I admit with a laugh. "I don't know how I would have reacted if there was an iceberg or another boat suddenly there in front of us. No doubt, I would have panicked!"
"We'd have had another Titanic on our hands," he mutters in amusement.
"Exactly!" I agree.
He meets my gaze again as he chuckles at my comment, and my heart lights up. I really like that I can seem to make him laugh. When he laughs and smiles, damn. His voice is spine-tingling, but his smile and laugh... Now that's taking it to a whole new level.
God, I am so pathetic swooning over Kate's father. But I can't help it. Everything he does, no matter what, he's just plain, effortlessly... yummy.
I hear a weird beeping noise, and when I look over again, I see he's programming some weird machine on his dashboard. Probably a GPS. I realize it is one when a little map shows up.
"Someone's knocked out," he retorts next, and when I look at his face in confusion, I realize he's speaking about Kate.
I twist around in my seat, checking on her. And he's right; She's totally crashed, slumped over in the backseat, her mouth hanging open as she sleeps. I laugh quietly when I move to sit forward again, peering outside the windshield.
"It was a surprisingly draining day, being on a boat," I murmur softly, hoping to take advantage and keep the conversation running between us. "You don't realize how strong the wind is until you're out at sea."
"Well, you're definitely right on that."
I strive desperately for something else to say. I really want to talk more, to get to know him better. I think of something, but I don't know if it's my business or not. I risk it anyway, seeing as Kate's fast asleep. "Have you, um, told Kate yet about you going out on a set-up date?"
He sighs loudly and I watch as he runs a hand through his hair. I wish I could do that, but no, I can't. Of course I can't. Rubbing myself against him on the boat when he was standing behind me was risky enough. I don't even know what came over me to do that, but luckily, he didn't seem to notice.
"I haven't as yet, Anastasia," he admits, and when he meets my gaze, he looks conflicted. He glances back at Kate, to make sure she's really sleeping, I guess. "There was a moment there, when I handed her the jacket, that I thought about it. I'm just not sure whether to."
"Well, I think you should," I tell him. "I know Kate would be pleased to hear it."
"You think?"
"Definitely. She'll be happy to know that you're trying to move on. Ultimately, I think she just... wants to see you happy, as her father." I want to see you happy. "So what's she like?" I ask, prying for more information. I know it isn't my business, but I'm curious. "The woman Gail is setting you up with?"
"I don't know as yet. I haven't met her."
"Well, do you..." I hesitate, biting my lip, feeling shy all of a sudden. I wonder if he'd let me ask. "Do you, um, sort of have any preference?"
"Preference?" He glances my way for a moment in confusion before peering ahead at the road again.
"Yeah, you know, like... preference when it comes to women?"
He laughs softly at my question again, in a sort of surprised, perplexed way. I really wish his laughs or his voice wouldn't make me so jittery. "Honestly? I have no preference whatsoever, Anastasia."
"So you don't even care if she's blonde or... or brunette?"
"No. I don't care about any of that at all. I don't care about the superficial side of it, to be honest."
CHRISTIAN POINT OF VIEW
Anastasia turning our point of conversation onto whether I had a preference or not in regards to the opposite sex, it's... unexpected. Surprising. I wasn't expecting it. I don't even know how to answer that. Do I even have a personal preference or something that I like? I haven't even considered that before.
"I suppose I just..." I begin, scratching my chin. It's so hard to put it adequately into words, I find. "I mainly care about finding someone that gets along well with Katherine. Someone who gets along well with both me and Katherine."
"Right." My gaze is drawn to her legs as she scratches her left kneecap. Her knees are bony, pale. Slender.
"Mainly, also... I suppose I want someone who holds the same interests as I do. Someone who has the same interests as me, so we're on... common ground."
"Interests? Like which ones in particular?" When I look at her, I see she's staring right at me, her blue eyes bright, curious. "Like boating? Or..." She pauses, her voice going breathless, elusively so, "Frank Sinatra music maybe?"
"Something like that, yeah. Just... the same interests that I do."
"And you don't... care about age or anything like that? That doesn't matter to you?"
"Not really, no. I don't really factor age as an issue." I really don't. Whether the woman is somewhat older or younger, I don't find it problematic at all. "At the end of the day, I suppose, it's merely based on common interests and whether that person fits well into your life. Age doesn't particularly matter to me one bit."
"Hmm," I hear her murmur thoughtfully.
When I look her way again, there's something about the way she looks that has me feeling strange. She isn't meeting my eyes; She's staring down at her knees as she twiddles her fingers around, a sort of shy wide smile on her face, her cheeks redder. Then she fixes up her brown bangs with her fingers, smoothing her hair down. I have no idea what that looks about at all, no less what she's thinking in regards to my comment.
"So you'd consider dating someone younger?" she asks, still staring at her fingers.
"Sure," I admit with a shrug. "If they were... younger within reason, of course. I wouldn't have any issue with it, to be honest."
"What does 'within reason' mean, though?"
She's really asking me all the sticky questions. "Well, I mean..." I lick my lips, thinking my words over carefully. How to explain? "Age wouldn't be an issue so long as the person wasn't too young." I shrug again, feeling like I've stumbled all over my words. This subject, I am finding, makes me feel rather uncomfortable. Instead, I try to turn it around on her instead, remembering what she'd told me when I'd foolishly asked her for dating advice. "What about you?" I ask.
Again, her expression and reaction to my question is hard to understand. It's almost as if she isn't there, as if she's somewhere else, that smile still there as she starts playing with the end strands of her hair, gliding her fingers through the ends. "What about me?"
"Well, you said to me earlier on that you've never even been on one single date before?" Just as before, I find that so hard to believe. How is it so? "How come?"
"I don't know. I guess... no one has ever really asked me out on a date before." Finally, she lifts her chin, meeting my gaze. She's squirming in the leather seat at that question, moving her thighs around. "And being best friends with Kate, all the guys seem to... like her and notice her more than me. I guess that's just the way it is."
I should be enraged at her telling me that so many boys are making the moves on my 17 year old daughter. Yet I'm not. All I can seem to be is skeptical due to what she is telling me.
"And you don't like anyone at school? There's no boys?"
"No, I... I don't like anybody from school," she admits, then she blurts out, "But I do like someone, but... I know he'd never be interested in me." She presses her lips together, dragging her eyes away from me to look outside the window, her cheeks going noticeably redder. She clearly hadn't meant to say that.
"Why wouldn't he be interested? Have you told him?"
She grows squeamish again, tapping her legs together in the seat. "I never could do that," she confesses quietly with a laugh.
"Why not? Is it because you're... shy?"
"Not necessarily," she mutters under her breath with a comical wince out the window.
"What's wrong?" I can't help asking with a laugh at her facial expression. "What was that face for?"
"Nothing. I just... Nothing."
The GPS tells me to take a right, and then we're back at the house already. And so soon.
I head up the drive way, still curious over Anastasia's reaction. But when I shift the gear into park after smoothly edging into the garage, I can tell she clearly doesn't want to continue speaking about it, as she throws her seat belt off hurriedly, getting out of the car. Unbuckling my own belt, I shift in my seat, finding my daughter awake, blinking around at our surroundings sleepily.
"Home sweet home," I mutter to her, then I get out of the car myself.
Date night.
Finally, the big night has arrived. After having received the details Taylor and Gail forwarded to me last week on the Monday night, I'd made the 1st move in calling this woman up that Gail apparently believes would be suited to me, making our plans for dinner.
The woman, who is to be my date tonight's, name ended up being Gia. Gia Matteo. Speaking briefly on the phone while making plans, she'd revealed to me that she works in architecture and that she designs houses for a living. Already, just by learning her profession, I wasn't sure we would have much in common.
But then after speaking a bit more, she revealed she had just gotten out of a divorce herself, 3 years of marriage, and that she had a son, Leo, who was only 9 years old. We had common ground in that we'd both recently gotten out of messy divorces. And also, the children that came from those marriages.
Her voice on the phone had sounded polite and well-spoken, yet there was a bit of an annoying, sickly sweet manner to the way she spoke. Almost as though she was deliberately putting on a younger, saccharine voice.
I'm sweating bullets by the time I have to get ready. I'd had the dreaded conversation with my daughter 4 days earlier and, just as Anastasia predicted, she took it extremely well. Too well.
She'd actually cried, which was the biggest shocker of all. She'd cried and hugged me, shoving her face into my shoulder for a long moment. It had been a long time that my daughter had been overly affectionate with me, but she'd told me that she was so happy for me. Even now, when I think back to her reaction days later, I cannot help feeling touched.
And now, my daughter is putting me through hell...
It's 2 hours before my 1st date in an extremely long time with a woman of the opposite sex, and Katherine demanded she get to help me pick what to wear for the evening. She also adamantly insisted I do not shave and keep the stubble look because, apparently, that appeals to a woman.
1st dress rehearsal, I come out of my bedroom wearing one of my work suits, walking to where my daughter and Anastasia sit on the stairs, waiting for me to show them, to get their seal of approval; A nice Armani suit that I've always felt comfortable in, particularly when doing business.
The instance I come out, imitating one of those male models, Kate groans in disgust. "No, no," she mutters. "Absolutely not, dad. It looks like you've just come from a business meeting! Right, Ana?"
I glance over at Anastasia beside her, who has been oddly quiet all night. She hadn't said much all day, which was... odd for her. I get the feeling something is bothering her but I cannot tell what.
"Yeah, it looks too... boss man," she mutters, agreeing with my daughter's sentiment.
I didn't realize finding something to wear would be this hard.
2nd time, I go for something more casual. Jeans, and one of my golfing shirts with sneakers. When I head out, my daughter makes a very nice gagging noise while Anastasia makes a cut-throat gesture with her hand.
"You look like you're going golfing," Kate says in disapproval. "Definitely not that one either."
Sighing loudly, I head back into my room, peeling off my shirt. I chuck it down on the floor. These girls are impossible to impress!
3rd time, same jeans but with a sweater this time. A grey sweater. Finally, Kate doesn't make a rude noise. She considers, looking me over, while Anastasia does the same. I feel like an ant been inspected beneath a magnifying glass.
"That's definitely better," Katherine says, and my shoulders sag in relief. Finally, thank fuck.
"Yeah, it... it's casual but still well put together," Anastasia agrees.
As if getting bored of the show, Kate sighs loudly then gets to her feet, stomping downstairs towards her room. Anastasia remains, her elbows resting on her knees.
"You look really... great," she murmurs, rather shyly and embarrassed. "I bet your date tonight, I bet she'll, um..." She moves her eyes down to her hands, playing with her fingers. "I bet she'll think you look really handsome."
"I hope so. You girls are really fussy and hard to please!"
"Kate, maybe," she says with a short laugh. "Kate may be, but not... me."
HOPE THIS WASN'T VERY BAD? I TRIED TO SPEED IT UP A LITTLE, HOPE IT NOT TOO RUSHED? QUESTION- SHOULD I WRITE THE DATE FROM CHRISTIAN POV OR SKIP IT UNTIL HE GETS HOME TO EXPLAIN IT TO ANA ON HOW IT WENT? I AM THINKING OF DOING A TIME JUMP SOON, BUT NOT SURE WHAT WILL BE THOUGHT OF IT.