Rated R – Sexual content
My Darling Love
Chapter 17 – Falling to Captain Hook
"The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep."
-E. Joseph Cossman
Mary stood at the back of the church. She wore a dress of antique lace, her mother's, white as the first snow of winter. The train ran down the length and fanned out behind her, her veil followed. The beadwork was exquisite; pearls encircled the neck and bodice. It was simple A-line, flattering to her very slim figure. She had dreamed all of her life of wearing this, as there had never been a more beautiful dress in which to be married. Her Aunt Millicent wanted to buy her another, more formal and magnificent, but she had declined.
She carried in her hands, roses, red in color. A bouquet of buds, not yet ready to bloom held out before her, like no other before her. Her bridesmaids wore dresses in a hue of fairest periwinkle, her Aunt Millicent's choice. They lined along the front altar, standing as if they were wooden soldiers awaiting her arrival. To her right, was her father, and he had never seemed so proud in his entire life as he had told her so the entire day as she prepared to be a bride. For she was by far the loveliest bride he had ever seen. Her mother smiled to her as the wedding march began.
It should be the have been the happiest day and her life, and try she as she might, she could not find in her heart a reason. Everyone else was overjoyed, the church was lined with row after row of people assembled to witness their vows, and to wish her and her new husband well. He was a handsome gentleman, only a few years older. A successful solicitor -- not a bank clerk -- and when he called on her, her parents reassured her that he was the best choice, far superior to any other man that had courted her. But she did not love him. "You will learn to love him, love is not something that just happens," Aunt Millicent informed her. Yet, she knew he was not the man she was to spend the rest of her life with. He stood at the altar railing, beaming, while she could only manage a false grin.
"Are you ready Mary?" her father asked, holding her arm in his as he began his steps forward.
'No!' Her mind said, but her feet followed her father's. 'Please stop moving, I do not wish to marry the bigger fish.'
But her feet would not listen, not even to her heart, and on that day, (when she said the words, "till death parts us" through pale wooden lips,) she became the bigger fish's wife.
When they returned from her extravagant, luxurious honeymoon, her husband returned to the office. Hers was an endless routine of waking and sleeping, with not much else in between. They had servants that did everything for her, for she was the lady of the house, now, and was not to lift a finger. If she was alive inside her body, she did not show it. Dinner parties and banquets, garden parties and teas all melted into her conscious mind onto nothingness. No one noticed, her husband included, that she never smiled. She would purposefully grin as others joked, and then return to her passive face.
She was always pretty, always proper and always in her place. Conversations around her simply passed through her, and her silence became expected. Her husband did not talk with her, more so at her. She never responded, only acting as if deaf. Soon her loneliness in life consumed her, until the day her husband demanded a child from her.
"We've been married over thirteen years now, and I'll be expecting a son from you," he told her as they retired to her bedchamber late one evening in the fall. "Mary Elizabeth Fisher, are you listening to me? A son, I want a son. Not a daughter, a son. So you must do your very best to give me what I want, a son. I will accept no less. Now removed your nightdress." His eyes glared at her as she turned over on her back, raising her gown just enough to expose her bare womanhood. Mary Elizabeth Fisher said nothing and closed her eyes. "Ah, do not fret Mary, after you are with child, I won't require you to service me. Although, once you deliver my son, be forewarned my demands of you in my bed will return."
She did not move in her position below him as he rode on top of her without care to her delicate frame. He grunted his release, sweaty and out of breath from all the huffing and puffing he did above her. Without a kiss or his condolences to help his wife through the daily hell she was trapped in, the bigger fish rolled over, and soon began snoring. She lightly slipped out of bed and over to the window, looking into the night sky. "I hate children," she whispered into the heavy air that hung before her.
"How could you hate children? You were once a child yourself." Peter Pan stood waiting on the sill in front of her.
"I am not a child anymore. I am an adult, with responsibilities. I am someone's wife, and soon I will be someone's mother." She looked past him, not seeing him.
"When you have children, I will take them to Neverland and they will never have to grow up," he responded smiling.
"All children should be made to grow up, no one can stay young forever." This time she looked at him when she spoke.
"I will always be young and never have to grow up." Peter swept into the room, still holding his happy grin.
Mary turned to him, and for the first time in her matured years, she smiled. "Have you seen George? When is he coming?"
Peter stood before her, now wearing a serious frown of confusion. "Mary, who's George?"
Mary slowly walked to her vanity and sat down. She began to brush her long hair that flowed down her back. She lifted her favorite perfume, smelling the fragrance of the bottle. Showing her bare wrists, she sprayed them with the scent. She gazed at her flawless expression in the mirror and then turned to him. "Do you remember that day? When he asked me to run away with him? Sail away on the seven seas and beyond..."
Peter approached her, grimacing at her disposition. She lacked emotion in her words and spoke them matter-of-factly. "Yes, I remember. You must be mixed up somehow, Mary, HIS name is not George, its..." Mary shushed him with her finger, "Don't say his name, I'm not supposed to remember."
"But you should remember, never forget! You told him you couldn't because he wasn't real, just part of your imagination. You told him you wanted to marry a real husband!"
"Yes, but did I tell him that I loved him still." She again returned her gaze to the mirror.
"Yes you did, but then you still wanted to grow up and now you are married to the bigger fish, just like you wanted." Peter glared at her with his arms crossed.
Her demeanor confused Peter. In all the years he had visited her since she was a younger lady, she had always been glad she had made her decision to grow up. She swore that she would hold within her heart all the emotions of adulthood and the pleasures that came with the responsibilities of being a wife and mother. "God will return him to me," she declared, to Peter Pan's dismay.
And then one night, this one in particular, when he made a special trip just to say, "I told you so," without warning, he found her in this strange darkness.
"Did George ever tell when I could go back?" she queried.
"Mary, have you gone mad? There is no George for you! And the one you are talking about, the one you want to come and get you, he's not real! And I don't know why you would want him anyway! He's a liar Mary, a very bad man who is to burn in hell for his sins for all eternity! And I am going to be the one who sends him there!" he shouted at her, although she took mind to his words.
Peter took flight above the bed, above her husband, the bigger fish, looking down at the man asleep below. "You have never given him the kiss that leads to happily ever after?" Peter asked, floating about Mr. Fisher, who rolled over him his sleep and mumbled, "Fret not Mary, for when my son is born, I will hire him a proper nanny and nurse, you won't even be his mother..."
"How can I give him the hidden kiss if George never put it there?" Mary responded, as if from a great distance. Peter looked off to where Mary had gone to, no longer seeing her there. He glanced about the room quickly, looking for her, finding it empty. He flew into the hallway and down the stairs of her house. Nowhere to be found, he blasted through her front doors out into the street. "MARY!" he cried out.
"Mary, did you hear me, dear? Are you ready?" Mr. Baker asked his beautiful daughter on her wedding day. The wedding march was nearly over, and she stood rooted to her spot.
'No!' Her mind's voice spoke, "No," her heart repeated.
"Dearest Mary Elizabeth, really, people are looking. Now we'd best walk you down the aisle," her father whispered, pulling her arm tightly to his.
"NO!" she shouted. If her family and friends gathered had not yet been looking, they all were now.
Aunt Millicent and her mother stepped quickly to where Mary Baker Darling stood firm in her footing. They reassured their guests as they made their way to the back of the church. "Mary Elizabeth Baker, you mustn't make a scene," her Aunt Millicent insisted.
"Cold feet, that's all it is dearest. As soon as you make your way to your fiancé, you will feel better," her mother assured her.
"George, where is George? I am supposed to marry George!" Mary screamed.
"Mary, what are you talking about? George? Who's George? Mary you must lower your voice this very instant. There is no George. You are marrying the bigger fish, look my darling daughter, down the aisle he awaits you. He will make a good husband and you will live the rest of your life a proper lady in the lap of luxury," her father calmed her.
"It's George Darling, Father, I am supposed to marry George Darling," Mary told him, looking about to her mother and Aunt Millicent as well, who held baffled expressions shrugging their shoulders to one another.
"Mary, who is this George you speak of?" her mother queried, shushing her husband and sister-in-law who were on the verge of dragging Mary to thee altar.
"My fiancé, you told me I couldn't marry him because he was not wealthy enough. He should have come to my window and thrown pebbles -- we were to escape together this very day!"
Her parents and Aunt looked to one another again, this time in absolute horror. Mr. Baker came to his senses first and asked, "Who is this George Darling, Mary? How did you meet him and when were you engaged? Who are his parents?"
Mary stepped back from her father, who moved alongside his wife. They truly had no idea of whom she spoke. "You introduced me to George, Father. You met him in the bakery. You were there when he asked for my hand. He is the son of Frederick and Josephine Darling."
Her family, now gathered around her, and stared at one another as if Mary had informed them she was the tooth fairy. Mr. Baker soothed his wife and sister, and then turned to his only daughter, "Do you speak of the Darlings that reside on Charles Street, Mary Elizabeth? Frederick Darling the Fourth?"
Mary nodded her head and offered her first smile of the day. "Mary Elizabeth," now it was her mother who spoke, "this George said he was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Darling?"
Mary embraced her mother tightly, "Yes mother, yes. He is Frederick Darling the fourth's forth son."
"She's gone mad, Joseph," Aunt Millicent declared, "either's she gone mad or has been greatly deceived by a scoundrel."
Mary whipped around and grasped Millicent around her shoulders, "No, Aunt Millicent, you met him, you told me he was not good enough to marry, you sent him a wedding invitation at his place of work. That is why he came to rescue me."
Aunt Millicent yanked herself from Mary, giving her a face filled with resolute anger, "Young lady, I did no such thing. Right until the moment before you stepped to this aisle, you were perfectly content to the proper wife of a solicitor."
Mary trembled where she stood and looked to her mother for comfort. Mrs. Baker embraced her and wiped the tears pouring down her daughter's cheeks, "Oh Mary Elizabeth, maybe it was just a dream. It is an impossibility for you to be engaged to the forth son of Mr. and Mrs. Darling."
Mary gazed up to her mother's face, "Because he is already married?"
Mr. Baker stepped to Mary and began gently rubbing her back, to sooth the imaginary ache that filled her, "No dearest Mary, it simply cannot be, for Mr. and Mrs. Darling do not have a forth son, only three."
Mary stepped back and away from her mother, distancing herself and her parents, "You lie, and George is real. He is a banker."
"Mary Elizabeth, all the sons of the Darlings, and there are only three, are doctors," Aunt Millicent corrected. "How foolish would it be to have three sons who are doctors and one that is only a banker! If you don't believe me, Mary Elizabeth, ask them yourselves, they are seated right there." Aunt Millicent pointed, and there in the back row of the church, seated with their three sons were the old Mr. and Mrs. Darling. "What are they doing here?" Mary asked.
"Mr. Darling is a very well respected man, Mary Elizabeth, I invited them."
Mr. Baker was already making his way to them, then whispered a few obviously unwelcome words in the ear of Mrs. Darling, whereupon she turned and glared hatefully at Mary before responding.
Mr. Baker slowly walked back to his family, waving to the priest for just another moment. "Mary Elizabeth, we stand corrected, the Darlings did have four sons and the youngest was named George. But Mary he is dead, he died as an infant from the small pox. His grave is right inside the cemetery. As soon as you are married, I will call the constables myself and have this rat, whatever his true name is, God in heaven only knows, reported or picked up or something. But do not worry over that now, today is your wedding day, and what a lovely bride you are Mary Elizabeth. Now if you would just settle down for a moment, your mother and aunt will straighten your dress and fix your face and then we can..." her father tried to calm her by wrapping his arm lovingly around her.
But there was to be no calming for Mary, she turned on her heel, descending the steps of the church in her full wedding attire. At the gates of the cemetery, there it was, plain as day. Four years after being born, Frederick Darling the Fourth's fourth son lay buried in the ground, a simple headstone marking the grave. Her parents followed her with stunned expression; their mouths gaped open as Mary bent down and kissed the marble stone with George's name engraved upon it.
Her Aunt Millicent turned to her sister-in-law, nearing tears, "Whatever will we tell the neighbors?"
Tears started as Mary whispered, "I know you are not dead, George, and if you will not come to me, I will rescue you." Mary ran all the way home to George. She opened the front door to their home, number fourteen, and called out for him. "George, I'm home!" But her beloved was not there. Panicked, she flew up the stairs.
There, in their bedroom she saw Peter Pan resting with his arms folded behind his head on her bed. The room was as it had been when she lived there as a young girl of sixteen. "I figured out who George is, and I told you Mary, he's gone and he is not coming back, not ever. As a matter of fact Mary Elizabeth Fisher, he's dead and its all your fault!" She opened the windows wide as she could and stood outward on the ledge. "You can't fly Mary! You're a grown up!"
"If you can hear me George, I'm coming."
She took a step forward and then another, and fell.
Mary closed her eyes as she fell. But on impact, she did not feel the pavement, but wooden planks. She looked up and found herself on the remains of the Jolly Roger. She got up as quickly as she could and investigated the entire ship from top to bottom, finding it empty and deserted. Pillaged and barren, every window on board was broken. The rain and snow that must have come during all the seasons the ship sat unoccupied had damaged all the furniture and the priceless treasures that remained on board.
She looked out toward the island, and felt the strange emotion of change. It was warm and peaceful, and quiet, too quiet. Only the sounds of wildlife could be heard, no voices, no movement. In her solitude and isolation she found relief. No wedding to a man she didn't love, no parents, no Aunt Millicent, no responsibilities.
"I'm free! Finally Free! I'm here, I'm home," she shouted to the shore, her arms outstretched in the wind.
Turning back to explore the ship, she entered a doorway marked "Captain Jas. Hook". His once magnificent cabin now destroyed by the weather and time. She sat down at his harpsichord and began playing. How wondrous that natural talent in music never fades. The keys now broken, the instrument out of tune, and still she was sure of all the chords. When her song was finished, she lay on his bed. The mattress was soaked through, wetting her already soiled wedding gown. Through the dank stench of moldy water, she could smell him. Her weight upon it caused the frame holding it together to collapse. She turned her head to glance about the destruction of the pirate captain's life's work, when she noticed his wardrobe.
Mary rose and opened the wardrobe to see the ragged remnants of his attire, and she pulled out a dress coat, dancing around the room with it and humming to herself as she went. She placed his ruined hat on her head and sat at his desk, exploring the contents within. Masses of papers and documents had dissolved together due to their exposure to the elements. As the night fell on the ship, she took refuge down below to escape the rains that came. In the pirate bunks she slept, still in his coat and hat.
In the morning, Captain Hook came back aboard the Jolly Roger. Upon entering his cabin, wet from the rains that still poured from the heavens outside, he found her sitting in the center of the room, dressed in his clothing. To her, he was as she remembered. His hair was long and dark with wet curls that cascaded down his back. Identical in appearance, except for the absence of George's eyeglasses and George's cleanly shaven face, Hook was her husband.
"I've been waiting for you, Captain Hook," was all Mary said as she rose to meet him.
She moved to him and brushed her lips to his. The rain to his body matted his clothing. She peeled his shirt from him and discarded it. Her first kiss to him was passionate and lustful. He had not been with a woman since before he could remember, and longed for her affection. He took no attention to the fact that she was a lovely older woman of thirty-one until he opened his coat she wore. Underneath she was completely bare and pulled herself close to him. The scar of her own third son Michael, oddly enough, had vanished from her body. She had goose bumps from head to toe, her nipples erect. He gently stroked her body and she moaned in anticipation.
Captain Hook spoke, wanting to know whom he was kissing. "To what do I owe this honor, my lady?"
She stood back from him, naked, and leaned her head forward, quite surprised by his question. "I am the fair maiden, the beautiful princess, the lovely queen, Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty..." She gave him every title role Wendy had ever cast her in.
He looked deeply into her eyes, blue as the sea. Her hair was once perfectly placed atop her head, braided in a bun, but now free, drenched and disheveled. Her face seemed to be hiding something and even as she smiled, he felt as though the amorous grin was meant for another.
"Then you are beauty and I am the beast," he mumbled, as he kissed down her neck.
"Close enough," she breathed as she again approached him in an embrace. She shocked him by being so forward, very un-ladylike. She tugged at his breeches and he could not remove them fast enough as they continued to kiss.
They rolled on the floor, neither wanting to be on top, until his position above her selected, and then it began. Without delay or foreplay, he thrust deeply inside of her. She cried out a long lingering moan, knowing now George would never again be the only one, and still he pushed into her womanhood deeper. "Does it hurt?" He asked playfully, seeing her horrified expression. She bit her lip with his member shoved cruelly into her body as far as it could go. "Yes..." She managed, ensnared in the agony. "Good..." He sneered, withdrawing completely only to thrust his length into her wholly once again.
"Would you like me to stop?" He purred in her ear, Mary literally screaming out in anguish as he repeated this action several times, each time using more force, more hostility, more malice. "Please...have mercy on me..." Mary begged through her clenched teeth. Captain Hook, in one long stroke of his tongue, tasted Mary from neck to nose. He licked his lips when he finished and paused a moment to consider her request for compassion. "Mercy? Well Madam, who do you think I am? God?" He looked above and rolled his eyes as the Lord's name was mentioned.
"No, I think not Madam. Now, if you don't like it this way, I'll try it another." He gave no warning to her, or time to adjust to his weight that came down on her hard as he began his assault. Captain Hook took no care as he slid in and out of her at such a rapid pace and for her it was easier to not breathe than TO try. Her head banged against the floorboards of his cabin, and still he continued plowing her. She cried heavy tears, not of joy or satisfaction, but for all the pain that surged through her.
"Tell me you love me," she panted into his ear.
"Never," he responded not missing a beat.
"Why?" she pleaded, grasping his shoulders to help soften the impact of him on her.
"Because you have simply confused my identity once again. I am not George Darling, Madam."
"Mary dearest, are you awake?" George leaned above Mary dressed and ready leave her for the day, off to work. Mary opened her eyes and bolted up. "Mary, I was thinking, last night I checked the books and the finances, and after work if Grandpa Joe wouldn't mind looking after the children and giving them supper, we could go to that jeweler downtown and you could help me pick out something nice, special just for you. I would do it myself, but I want it to be something--"
George could not continue his suggestion for Mary grabbed him so tightly he couldn't breathe. She pulled him down onto the bed and began kissing his face, neck, shoulders, hands, and anything else she could hold on to, "I love you George, I love you, I'm so sorry for what I said, please, please forgive me. I love you and only you, I love you." She repeated the sentiment one thousand times without taking a breath.
George was speechless and watched his wife as she frantically recited her entire dream from start to finish. George could not get a word in edgewise as she rambled on and explained each part. "Then my father said you had died of the small pox and I saw your headstone, so I jumped out the window, that's right George, I jumped out the window and landed on a pirate ship...."
Sporadically, George could manage a comment or a question, "I did have small pox when I was four, it was quite bad or so I am told. That is why I wear spectacles, it damaged my eyes, but how did you know it was specifically small pox?" or "Mary, good heavens, a pirate captain?"
But mostly it was Mary doing the talking. She ended with, "Tell me you love me."
George fixed his glasses and sat up straight as an arrow as said, "I love you, Mary," seriously.
Mary jumped up from the bed and pulled him to her. "Tell me again, George, tell me you love me."
George grabbed her by her shoulders to hold her still. "Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, I love you." He finished with a kiss to put the period at the end of the sentence.
Mary hugged him close and began pecking his cheek, showering him with endless affections, knocking his spectacles from his face and messing his hair. "Oh, I'm sorry George, I'm making you late for work!" Mary said, slightly panicked by the time shown on the side table clock.
George just stared at his wife as he stood up at attention alongside the bed. She assumed he would dip in for a kiss on her cheek and be off, but it was rather obvious when he began hastily removing his tie, opening his shirt, while pushing both dress shirt and jacket open, exposing his chest that he had something else in mind. Mary watched George in shock and anticipation, unprepared for his seduction so late in the morning, as he unbuckled his belt, unfastened his pants, pushing both down his long muscular legs. She hadn't noticed as he undressed, gazing at his perfectly defined body, but his member was hard and ready.
George flung himself on the bed beside her and, in one easy motion, raised Mary and her nightgown over him, pounding his key into her lock. He wickedly, deliciously turned it within her leaving his wife holding tightly to the headboard as she tried to keep up with the speedy pace George set as he thrust from beneath her, (driving out any memory of the pirate captain which might have lingered). Both were left panting for air while attempting to (touch the other everywhere,) and kiss any part of the other they could manage to get their lips on. Groaning ecstatically, George came and then came again as Mary rocked to completion as well, falling onto him.
"Oh my goodness, George, that was ...you are just ... I can't believe how well ... I mean it was ... wonderful ... I never felt so..." Mary whimpered trying desperately to express her rush of emotions. The only complete sentence she could articulate was, "I love you, George."
"I know Mary. I love you, I told you I love you and only you, and I meant it. I just think that something this important needs to be proven," George told her, quite proud of his performance, as he patted her on the back for release.
She granted it, rising up and off of him, both trying to clean up after an unexpected and messy lovemaking session. George needed to change his clothes and fix himself up while Mary, still in her nightgown wet with his seed, which slipped down her leg, tore down the bed to change the sheets.
Neither heard Wendy knock but they both heard her call for her mother.
"George, she can't see me like this," Mary whispered. She fixed her nightgown and ran to her vanity to brush her hair and apply rouge to her cheeks.
Baffled by his wife, he jerked his head from the door to Mary and back, unsure which to handle first. "George, pick your favorite of my dresses for me to wear." George ignored the door and went to the wardrobe.
Grandpa Joe rapped on the door and Mary said, "Oh George, get the door, the children..."
George walked back to the door and peeked out. "It's not a good time, Mary seems not herself this morning," George whispered to Grandpa Joe, who nodded.
After George shut himself back in and headed to the wardrobe, Mary directed, "George you will late for work," rushing him out the door.
"Mary, are you alright?" he asked before he opened it.
"Yes George, I'm fine. I love you and the children so much. I am just so thankful that God heard my prayers that night ..." She pushed him out with another kiss and he went. Mary fixed her robe and her hair and followed. Wendy didn't see it, but as she walked out with her brothers and her father, Mary was smiling from the top of the stairs.