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potc_dogwatch and everyone should join because the more the merrier. Here's the scoop...
Go join immediately! It'll be a blast!
And now, a little more Dark of the Moon, which seems to suit this week's drabble theme at Black Pearl Sails...
[28 - Slip]
Jack liked women. All of them, highborn and low—who generally knew the game—and even those drab, middling ladies–who often did not know it, and tended to be more trouble than they were worth. Mrs. Lettice Granger definitely belonged to the latter group. Jack had known quite well what he was doing when he’d gone merrily off with Esmarelda del Amador, leaving Letty gaping in his wake. That there would henceforth be considerable awkwardness between Jack and his “captive” was a given, and it was a price he’d been willing to pay. Letty was attracted to him, as most women were, and Bootstrap had the truth of it: no good could come of it were she to yield to her baser instincts. Jack had to be wise for both of them.
All very right and reasonable.
The difficulty was, there was something about Letty that he found oddly appealing, even when she was at her worst, which she surely had been, at times, in their first days together. Somehow, amid their trials and tribulations, and the intimacies of close proximity, the seemingly ordinary Mrs. Granger had insinuated herself into Jack’s thoughts more completely than he would have imagined possible even a sennight previous.
The result of this constant awareness was that Jack had rarely felt the prick of desire (ha!) so strongly, yet was unable (or rather, unwilling) to remedy the matter in the way he’d prefer. Not if he wanted to be wise. Or honorable.
It was putting him in a temper.
One would have thought the sport he’d enjoyed with the eager and experienced Esmarelda would have dulled the edge of his lust for the querulous widow, but that had not proven to be the case. He often tried to remind himself of Letty’s many faults, the numerous incidents that had sorely tested his patience. But her initial dramatics seemed almost justifiable at a few days remove, and his annoyance was further eased by his burgeoning appreciation of her person. Really, she was a pretty thing. Particularly when stripped of clothing.
Now that thought was hardly calculated to curb his appetite. And his glimpse had been on that first night, when she’d been sick with tea and fear.
So she’d be even prettier in more auspicious circumstances.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered aloud.
“What’s toward, lad?” demanded the Captain.
Jack looked up, angry and sheepish. “It’s naught.”
“The lass, eh?” Tobias’ eyes sparked with laughter. “Only two more days and you can kiss ‘er goodbye. Not in front of Huff, of course.”
Jack smiled, but humorlessly.
But just then, a call from the lookout far above sounded. “Ship ahoy!”
“Where away?” roared Tobias.
The lookout called the heading as Jack groped for his glass, to no avail. “Damnation, I’ve left me glass in the cabin. What is she, d’you think?” he demanded of his mentor.
“Damnation indeed. She’s big – might be a treasure ship, might be Royal Navy. Run and get your glass, lad: I want you up on the maintop quick, watchin’ ‘er.”
Jack ran, quick as he could, any thought of the widow Granger vanishing in the excitement of prospective action. He pounded across the deck and down the steps, then raced down the passage to his cabin door. It stuck, slightly, then gave way to his impatient jerk.
If the previous minute had sped as fast as his feet, the next fraction of one came to a dead stop. Letty. Slim, damp curves of pale pink. Flaxen hair, loosely pinned up off white shoulders. Bare feet, a towel spread on the sole beneath them, a bucket of fresh water near them. Wet cloth in hand. Bathing. Naked. Blue eyes widening. Breasts (perfect and coral-tipped: his hands, his fingers itched) heaving on a gasp. Her unoccupied hand moving to cover that other scant flaxen hair.
He slammed the door shut, closing her in, him out, gasping himself, waiting for the shriek.
It didn’t come.
“Letty!” he called, his voice hoarse. “I need my glass! In the chest! Can you get it?”
“Y-yes,” came the answer.
He stood with his back against the door, eyes closed, teeth set, the pounding of his heart an echo of the pounding feet above them. Another long, long minute.
Then, “Come in, then.” Her voice tight, but not tearful.
He swallowed hard, turned and jerked the door open. She was standing behind it, a blanket about her, clutched close, her hand white-knuckled against her chest. She held out his glass, chin lifted, her lips set in a not-quite-firm line.
She was not hysterical, by any means, and his relief was such that good humor returned in a rush. Grinning crookedly, appreciatively, he took the glass, and at the same time slipped his other hand behind her head and swiftly kissed her on her surprised lips. “Don’t worry. It’s all right,” he told her.
As he closed the door and ran topside he wondered what he’d meant by that. And if it was true.
*
TBC
fabu has established potc_dogwatch and everyone should join because the more the merrier. Here's the scoop...This is the place to celebrate the PotC fandom, everything we love about the original movie, and the upcoming sequel, Dead Man's Chest. All PotC fans are welcome.
Starting June 7th, there will be a daily activity/challenge that everyone is encouraged to participate in. For now, read the welcome post and please contribute your ideas.
Go join immediately! It'll be a blast!
And now, a little more Dark of the Moon, which seems to suit this week's drabble theme at Black Pearl Sails...
[28 - Slip]
Jack liked women. All of them, highborn and low—who generally knew the game—and even those drab, middling ladies–who often did not know it, and tended to be more trouble than they were worth. Mrs. Lettice Granger definitely belonged to the latter group. Jack had known quite well what he was doing when he’d gone merrily off with Esmarelda del Amador, leaving Letty gaping in his wake. That there would henceforth be considerable awkwardness between Jack and his “captive” was a given, and it was a price he’d been willing to pay. Letty was attracted to him, as most women were, and Bootstrap had the truth of it: no good could come of it were she to yield to her baser instincts. Jack had to be wise for both of them.
All very right and reasonable.
The difficulty was, there was something about Letty that he found oddly appealing, even when she was at her worst, which she surely had been, at times, in their first days together. Somehow, amid their trials and tribulations, and the intimacies of close proximity, the seemingly ordinary Mrs. Granger had insinuated herself into Jack’s thoughts more completely than he would have imagined possible even a sennight previous.
The result of this constant awareness was that Jack had rarely felt the prick of desire (ha!) so strongly, yet was unable (or rather, unwilling) to remedy the matter in the way he’d prefer. Not if he wanted to be wise. Or honorable.
It was putting him in a temper.
One would have thought the sport he’d enjoyed with the eager and experienced Esmarelda would have dulled the edge of his lust for the querulous widow, but that had not proven to be the case. He often tried to remind himself of Letty’s many faults, the numerous incidents that had sorely tested his patience. But her initial dramatics seemed almost justifiable at a few days remove, and his annoyance was further eased by his burgeoning appreciation of her person. Really, she was a pretty thing. Particularly when stripped of clothing.
Now that thought was hardly calculated to curb his appetite. And his glimpse had been on that first night, when she’d been sick with tea and fear.
So she’d be even prettier in more auspicious circumstances.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered aloud.
“What’s toward, lad?” demanded the Captain.
Jack looked up, angry and sheepish. “It’s naught.”
“The lass, eh?” Tobias’ eyes sparked with laughter. “Only two more days and you can kiss ‘er goodbye. Not in front of Huff, of course.”
Jack smiled, but humorlessly.
But just then, a call from the lookout far above sounded. “Ship ahoy!”
“Where away?” roared Tobias.
The lookout called the heading as Jack groped for his glass, to no avail. “Damnation, I’ve left me glass in the cabin. What is she, d’you think?” he demanded of his mentor.
“Damnation indeed. She’s big – might be a treasure ship, might be Royal Navy. Run and get your glass, lad: I want you up on the maintop quick, watchin’ ‘er.”
Jack ran, quick as he could, any thought of the widow Granger vanishing in the excitement of prospective action. He pounded across the deck and down the steps, then raced down the passage to his cabin door. It stuck, slightly, then gave way to his impatient jerk.
If the previous minute had sped as fast as his feet, the next fraction of one came to a dead stop. Letty. Slim, damp curves of pale pink. Flaxen hair, loosely pinned up off white shoulders. Bare feet, a towel spread on the sole beneath them, a bucket of fresh water near them. Wet cloth in hand. Bathing. Naked. Blue eyes widening. Breasts (perfect and coral-tipped: his hands, his fingers itched) heaving on a gasp. Her unoccupied hand moving to cover that other scant flaxen hair.
He slammed the door shut, closing her in, him out, gasping himself, waiting for the shriek.
It didn’t come.
“Letty!” he called, his voice hoarse. “I need my glass! In the chest! Can you get it?”
“Y-yes,” came the answer.
He stood with his back against the door, eyes closed, teeth set, the pounding of his heart an echo of the pounding feet above them. Another long, long minute.
Then, “Come in, then.” Her voice tight, but not tearful.
He swallowed hard, turned and jerked the door open. She was standing behind it, a blanket about her, clutched close, her hand white-knuckled against her chest. She held out his glass, chin lifted, her lips set in a not-quite-firm line.
She was not hysterical, by any means, and his relief was such that good humor returned in a rush. Grinning crookedly, appreciatively, he took the glass, and at the same time slipped his other hand behind her head and swiftly kissed her on her surprised lips. “Don’t worry. It’s all right,” he told her.
As he closed the door and ran topside he wondered what he’d meant by that. And if it was true.
*
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-14 10:04 pm (UTC)But that ship on the horizon...trouble I suspect.
matter in the way he’d prefer. Not if he wanted to be wise. Or honorable.
It was putting him in a temper.
At least the ship will give him something else to think about.
Felaine
no subject
Date: 2006-05-15 09:00 pm (UTC)