Chapter Twelve: Old Skeletons
"Elizabeth, might I burden yer household with 'nother guest?"
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"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho," that smoky voice, now singing in absent-minded flats, awakened her. Jack reclined in a chair he'd pulled up to the bed, boots crossed and propped on the mattress, bathing in sunlight from the open window. Occasional he'd drink from a wine bottle, partially empty, "Yo ho, a pirate's life for me."
Maren moaned groggily, rolling on her side and burying her head in the downy pillow, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, can't ye sing somethin' else?" her muffled voice leaked out.
"Did'n think ye'd be appreciating a chorus o' 'May Done Be the Maiden', but if ye insist," Jack inhaled a mighty breath.
"No! No!" Maren shot up into a sitting position, blankets pooling at her waist and palm stretched out to Jack, "Anythin' but that, please! Ye gots no idea how many bloody times I've heard that damn song, workin' in a pub and all." Instead of responding, Jack smiled his devilish grin, lopsided and sly, eyes not quite meeting Maren's stare. Suspiciously, she followed his gaze, glancing down at herself and cried out, quickly pulling the comforter up to her chin, "Where's me corset!" Maren was clothed only in her shift and bloomers, sans dress and petticoats. The maddening blush, that almost picked up Jack by his manhood and tossed him into that bed to devour her, spilled over her cheeks and neck. She was acutely aware that her dusty white shift must have left little to Jack's vast imagination, the exact lining of her curves and the pink color of her nipples surely must have peeked through the flimsy material.
"No worries, me medium," Jack raised his wine glass in salute, "Yer whatnots be in the wash and I, sad to say, did'n even get to claim the honor o' undressin' ye. Elizabeth and her maid took that pleasure and kick'd me out o' the room." Pouting, Jack stared morosely at his feet, "Did'n even let me watch, no fair. Ye should be flatter'd though, I put up quite a fight to be stayin', but then Elizabeth threatened to castrate me with the stallions, so-," he fluttered his fingers out the door.
"How long have I slept?"
He cracked his neck, "Four hours. Yer borin' when ye sleep ye know that? Ye did'n even murmur me name in ecstasy once!"
"This be the Turner place?" Maren ignored him and studied the lavish surroundings of the room around her. Gold-foiled molds and velvet curtains decorated every surface of the spacious bedroom. Everything was enormous, the bed, the fireplace the windows, the mirror. Maren's heart lurched when she realized that the sheets she laid upon were satin, like her lovely torn dress, soft with sheen. This wasn't just wealth, this was taste and even a gutter girl like Maren knew there was an colossal distinction between the two and it made her acutely uncomfortable. True her quarters in the Black Pearl were equally luxuriant, but that was different somehow. That was luxury for people who had experienced, or at least seen, real poverty. This sort of expensive luxury was bred for the type of gentility that were well aware of the meaning of 'poverty' on an educational level, but that was as far as their perception ran. Maren's knuckles turned white, clenching the blanket.
"Aye," Jack looked around the room too and Maren recognized the same restlessness adorn his features. "Elizabeth also took yer measurements, hope ye do'n mind. She's out now purchasin' ye a new wardrobe," lowering his feet, Jack sourly hanged one arm on the back of his chair, "With me purse I might add."
"Really? For me?" cocking an exciting eyebrow, Maren flashed a smile so gorgeous, Jack decided to memorize it and keep it for his next fantasy.
"Do'n go thankin' me," another long swag of wine, "Liz pitch'd a fit when she found out I kidnapp'd ye without notifyin' ye 'head o' time so ye could be packin' yer possessions. What she want me to do, give ye proper warnin'?" Jack seemed to still be fighting an argument he obviously lost a little while ago. "Anyway, she forced me to fork over some money and now she be spendin' every last shillin' on womansy things." The last phrase was uttered with fathomless confusion and intolerance soaked straight through.
"I never," her voice cracked and she gulped loudly before she continued, "I never thank'd ye suitable for the dresses ye gave me back on the Pearl. Only one fit, but I just want ye to know, it was the finest thing I've ever own'd." Mournfully, she petted the satin sheets, so much like that olive dress, "I'm sorry it ripp'd., satin bein' near impossible to mend and all."
"Now, is this an apology for just ruinin' that dress," Jack rubbed his beard thoughtfully, "O' are ye tryin' to apologize for escapin' and ruinin' that dress?"
Maren almost screamed in frustration, here she was attempting to civilly thank him and he insults her, "What the devil should I apologize for?" In her anger she almost released her grip on the comforter to throttle that conceited smirk off his cursedly handsome face, but decided it best to tuck it securely over her bust and under her arms, so her hands could rant unimpeded, "I was in me rights to free meself from that prison! Did I ever agree to come along on this cock-in-bull adventure? I think not!"
"We had a deal," he held out one finger and leaned forward.
"New deal Jack," Maren mimicked his motions, only her finger came up right under his nose, "Tell me everythin' 'bout what happen'd with Barbossa. Every God damn'd thing! I want to know how a two-year-dead ghost manages a possession miles away from his hauntin' place. I want to know how he can see Kristy, where the hell is she anyway?" distracted, Maren concentrated on her mentor and sensed her poking around about half a mile away. Satisfied she continued, "But most o' all, I want to know what yer part was in this drama! Answer fully and honestly, 'cause that bastard Barbossa show'd me quite a bit, I'll be catchin ye if ye try to lie. Appease me curiosity and maybe I'll be concedin' to accompany ye back to the Black Pearl."
It was on the tip of his sassy tongue to remind her that she would have little to no choice in the matter, but on an island inhabited by the British Navy, Jack decided pushing her buttons could wait. Besides, all Maren demanded was a story and good Lord, Jack loved telling stories. The tiny restriction of honesty was a bit of a handicap though.
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Jack was a marvelous storyteller. During the depiction of his odyssey, Jack had progressed from chatting casually in his chair to parading around the room, pantomiming the action sequences, mimicking the players voices, including a ridiculous falsetto to imitate Elizabeth that tickled Maren silly, and loosely rearranging the furniture to better illustrate the fantastic places he described. All Maren had to do was sit back, eyes transfixed and dancing with a childish glow, and occasionally interrupt Jack to remind him about not exaggerating or embellishing. Immediately Jack would forfeit with something like, "All right, maybe it weren't no five hundred pound gorilla, perhaps it 'twas 'bout a five mark shop monkey, but 'twas a pretty vicious littl' fucker none the less!" Jack had two things going for him, he saw the world through animated eyes and he loved to hear himself talk, excellent traits for a storyteller.
Maren was the perfect audience. Hypnotized, she hung on his every word, laughing at his jokes, clapping at the exciting parts, booing the villains, and even pretended to wipe away tears when Jack described the horror of the burnt rum. And Jack thoroughly appreciated her attentive nature, being a hopeless mumma's boy himself, he had lived his childhood in a brothel and with his mother and countless 'aunts' doting over his every whim, he was somewhat spoiled and relished in absolute female attention. In short, he was a ham, moreover, Maren's raptured interest in him was starting to seriously turn Jack on.
"So I tumble on this ruddy wall, practically ruinin' me grand exit, and fall head over heals in the chilly waters below," Jack was balanced on the back of his chair and leapt onto the bed, bouncing Maren up and down, "But no worries, 'cause there she be! Me Black Pearl returnin' for her one, true Cap'n! And we all liv'd happily ever after, sans Norrington, who will die old and 'lone and very, very homosexual." Grandly, Jack bowed to the four corners of the room, jumping playfully as he rotated to each direction, "Thus concludes the epic tale o' the great Cap'n Jack Sparrow and the Curse o' the Black Pearl. Thank ye, thank ye," Maren enthusiastically clapped from her perch below him on the bed, blanket still clutched over her chest, "Yer too kind! Please, no encore tonight." Blowing kisses to an invisible audience Jack blubbered, "If ye lik'd this ye should see me perform Hamlet."
"Bravo, bravo," Maren cheered, "Ye be a natural Jack! Ye really ought to play in the theatre."
At last, he flopped down on the bed, somewhat breathless from his excursions, "Any more questions, luv?"
Maren bit her lip, thinking things over, "I suppose the curse might be accountin' for Barbossa's aptitude after death, but then any other formerly curs'd pirates might have the same abilities, if they end up hauntin' that is." Pensively, she studied Jack, who was laying on his stomach, head propped up, supported by the elbows, and staring up at Maren who sat with her back against the headboard, "Ifen that be the case, ye might be possessin' them same abilities too."
This gave Jack pause for thought, "I do'n feel any different," he stated carefully.
"Still, I'd like to see if I can sense somethin'," leaning forward, hands stretched out towards his face, Maren added, "If it be all fair with ye."
Staring apprehensively at her oncoming touch, Jack asked, craning his face away, "This wo'n be tuggin' ye into 'nother one o' them trances, will it?"
"No, I should be fine," she smiled gently.
"Do'n ye need Kristy?"
"It's just ye, aint it?" Maren tilted her head near his, eyes half-lidded and very sultry, "Thought ye told me, I do'n have nothin' to fear from ye."
So it was a challenge! This Jack could accommodate. He smirked purposely, scooting himself into a sitting position across from Maren, "Have at it them."
"Good," blinking a few times, Maren stared intently at Jack, face straight and blank. Their gazes locked for a few awkward moments. Dark blue pools meeting heavily kohl-ed browns. More soundless seconds of discomfort, until Jack, still giddy from Maren's seemingly agreeable disposition towards him, started snickering, vainly attempting to swallow his giggles. "Stop it, Jack," she snipped, "Yer distractin' me." He controlled himself long enough to stay quiet, but the silly grin he sported was beyond him. "I can't see anythin' out o' the ordinary, try closin' yer eyes and concentrate," Maren shut her eyes too.
Obliging her, Jack squinted, seeing blackness, "Concentrate on what per say?"
"Nothing," tender and warm, Maren pressed two sets of fingertips on eitherside of Jack's temple. Initially, his first instinct was to pull away from the contact, feeling a distinct force between her hands, but he steadied himself. "Clear yer mind o' all thought," a hint of inflexion in Maren's voice said she didn't suspect this would be too difficult a task for him to perform.
"Easy 'nough," Jack slurred then included, confused, "Wait, did that count as a thought?"
"Shut up Jack."
"Touché."
Again they sat in silence, acutely aware of the other's breathing. While Maren sought, Jack cracked open one disobedient eye to study her. There was a slight knot in her brow and the faintest frown across her lips. His vision danced merrily along her bare arms, across the expanse of her smooth shoulders only covered by the straps of her shift, and climbed up the arch of her throat, settling on that enticing part where neck met ear and jawbone. The impulse compelled him to act and who was he to deny an impulse?
Maren sucked in a sharp breath when Jack bent forward to lay a small kiss upon her skin under her earlobe. Her face burned bashfully, but she didn't protest and kept her fingers against his brow, eyes still closed. Accepting this as an invitation, Jack placed two more kisses in the same place, intensifying the pressure and intimacy a little. Involuntarily, Maren hunched her shoulders up when his beaded beard stroked her shoulder, "That tickles," she whispered. "I suppos'd to be focusin', Jack," reprimanding him teasingly, Maren pressed her cheek against his hand as he caressed her face.
"Who be stoppin' ye?" Maren could almost feel the golden sparkle from his smile behind her black eyelids, "Focus to yer heart's content, while I be focusin' on mine." Aggressively, he possessed her mouth as completely as Barbossa had possessed her body, and Jack had every intention to follow the exact same suit. Maren's stomach flip-flopped, did he just refer to her as his heart's content? Had she really thought she hated this man only hours ago, impossible! Totally adoring every fiber of Jack's soul, not to mention his alluring body, at that singular moment, Maren opened her mouth against his lapping tongue, hot and inviting.
Giving up the search for the undead in Jack, Maren removed her hands from his forehead and wrapped them securely around his neck, savoring the proximity of their flesh as Jack held her by the shoulders and pressed her closer. She twisted his tangled locks in her fingers, roughly tugging back to subject him to a lustful gaze. She gradually opened her eyes, hazing in on Jack's features…luckily, her throat sealed shut in her panic when she jerked away, because her scream surely would have deafened Jack.
Rotting flesh, decayed and grey, hung from bleached bones like sick cobwebs. The gold and white teeth were permanently smiling a fleshless grin of death. Through random holes in the corpse, Maren could see to the other side of the room. Insides the hollowed chamber of the torso, several chunks of dark red organs remained clinging to assorted bones and ribs. There was a mass of hair, she vaguely recognized the dreadlocks and charms of Jack, but her stunned mind was too slow to connect, with bits of scalp somehow scabbing on the shiny skull. Tattered clothes hung loosely like its festering skin around its frame. Impossible to discern its emotions by its facial expressions, it having no face to speak of, Maren saw it roll its eyes around in the sockets, the eyelids long gone, and reach a bony hand out to touch her face. "Stay away from me!" Maren hoarsely shouted, slamming the decayed appendage away from her. The terrifying skull lurched towards her, opening its mouth with a blackened tongue, dry like sandpaper, nestled inside. Every ounce of strength, seasoned with adrenaline, snapped her fist at its offending jaw, cracking painfully against the skeleton and toppling it over the edge of the bed. The heavy thud it produced as it landed shot Maren crawling backwards until her back connected with the headboard. There she froze, burying her self against the wall.
"Not that I do'n appreciate the rough stuff," Jack's voice honed like a beacon through Maren's foggy shock, "But that bloomin' hurt!" Perturbed, Maren stretched her neck to gaze over the side of the bed where the skeleton was swaying to its booted feet. Hands on hips, the corpse spoke with Jack's slurring drawl, clear as day, "Ye do'n happen to suffer from one o' more o' them seriously debilitatin' mental disorders, do ye? Cause, ye be runnin' hot and cold."
Maren didn't respond, she couldn't, all she could do was watch with sick curiosity at the dangling skin swinging to and fro on Jack's chin while he talked. 'Oh God,' the thought retched in her mind, 'I kiss'd it!' Repulsed, she broke out in a cold sweat as she scrubbed her mouth and tongue with the back of her hand, sputtering deep coughs.
Jack stood in a perplexed stupor. Everything had been going so smoothly. He was pretty positive Maren intended to board the Black Pearl willingly this time and was pleasantly sure Maren was a hop, skip, and jump away from spreading those delicious thighs for him, but now this? A shout, a slap, and now spitting? It wasn't often Jack encountered someone madder then he was, really what were the odds? But here was Maren, plainly the clock for his cuckoo and it fascinated him beyond measure! "I've been slapp'd and I have been shriek'd at. I've been threaten'd, shov'd, and chas'd by offend'd husbands," here Jack's flared his eyes and flashed his gold teeth like fangs, but to Maren his features remained the same fleshless bone, "But I've never seen such fear, such disgust from any woman I ever kiss'd, ever! And Mother of God, it turns me on!"
Crawling up the bed to Maren, like a fantastic nightmare, Jack crept catlike, "The fear I understand. Why ye scar'd o' me Maren?" He paused and pleased that his seduction was leaving her apparently gaping and speechless, continued, "I be tellin' ye! Ye want me, gel, ye want so bad it scares ye. Aint that right? Do'n be frighten'd Maren, pleasures o' the flesh be perfectly natural desires. We be sexual creatures after all," propped up on hands and knees, Jack lowered himself to Maren's ankles, pressing a feather light kiss against her shivering skin. Mistaking her terrified squeak as a vainly virginal resistance to her lust, Jack hungrily nipped at her other ankle, whispering against the flesh when he was finished, "And the disgust I understand too."
'Not bloody likely,' somewhere, through the maze of comatose panic in Maren's brain, the smartarse in Maren, who sounded suspiciously like Kristy, thought to herself.
"Cause I am, Maren," Jack had resumed his hypnotic climb on all fours, hovering over Maren's hips, "I am a disgusting' fiend and ye know what I think? I think that gets ye off!" Chuckling, deep and smoky in his throat, Jack half talked, half moaned, "Aye, I be a filthy, dirty scoundrel and ye love it, do'n ye?" lewdly Jack lapped his red tongue up Maren's quivering stomach, wetting the linen fabric of her shift. Unfortunately, to the eyes of the medium, a decomposing corpse was licking her. It was a miracle she stayed conscious. "And I'm going to be doin' the most disgustin', vile, naughty things to ye Maren and by Davey Jones, ye'll be beggin' me for more," raising himself over her pale face, Jack straddled her hips with his thighs, "Give us a kiss."
Maren's power of speech finally returned to her, inspired by the descending skull, though she spoke in a hoarse whisper, high-pitched and shaky, but very slow, "I'm goin' to vomit."
This gave Jack a moment's hesitation, a little flabbergasted, a little unsure, "I'm not into that sort o' thing," he said warily.
"Listen to me very carefully," Maren's voice was becoming stronger, "At this instant, I not be seein' the Cap'n Sparrow I know," she hurried and raised her speech to cut his question off, "Insteady, I be seein' a fuckin' rottin' skeleton drap'd over me body!" The panic was seeping through and Maren was getting louder and more forceful by the moment, "Apparently, this is what ye look'd like when ye was undead and if ye do'n get yer lousy, bony arse off me right now," she shouted and finished in a scream, "I will go insane and I be TAKIN' YE WITH ME!"
Jack leapt off…
