Day 6: Ship Sneak

Today’s prompt comes from the lovely L, over at Sugar, Spice, and Everything Sue! check out her very entertaining blog about horrible writing in the self-published world.  Here is the prompt she gave me: ‘a man is sneaking onto a ship.’

I went for something a bit more light-hearted after yesterdays weirdness, hope you enjoy! 🙂

 

 

Moonlight reflected off the still surface of the lake, lighting the row of boats docked along the pier. Most of them rocked silently in darkness, but Jared had his eye on one particular yacht. It cast a pale aura of light on an isolated patch of the pier ahead. He clutched a key in his hand and waited, listening to the rhythmic slapping of the waves against the dock beneath his feet.

Jared blinked sleep from his eyes and hugged himself against the cold, staring at the persistently bright yacht. Ellen had said midnight and it was now almost one; much too late for a school night, especially with parents as strict as Ellen’s.  He checked again for any text messages from her, and was considering breaking his promise of not sending her any when the lights finally dimmed. A moment later his cell beeped.

‘I’m ready.’

No winkey faces, no hearts, no ‘hurry’ or ‘can’t wait to see you’. Is she mad at me? Jared fought back a torrent of worried thoughts as he crept down the pier.

The large, white pleasure ship was dark and quiet, and he saw no movement behind the windows after watching for several minutes. With his heart beating hard in his throat, he pulled himself up the ladder onto the deck. He took the hot, sweaty key from his palm and clicked open the door, slipping inside.

Plush, white couches sat on a polished mahogany floor. Jared edged past a table cluttered with empty glasses and playing cards, up to the door leading to the cabins below. He opened it with the same key and tiptoed down the steps, cringing at every creak.

Second door on the left, she’d said.

Ellen had told him about this boat in their History class, about how her father kept her on it with him over the weekends to keep her out of trouble. His stomach fluttered when he thought about the first time she talked to him at the bus stop. He never thought a girl like her–all blond and tall and thin and popular–would want to talk to him, but only a day later they were making out  between classes, and now she’d asked him to sneak into her room.

He padded softly down the short hall and stopped at her door. With a shaking hand, he pushed it open. It was dark and quiet inside.

“El?” he whispered, only silence replied. Her bed was slightly illuminated by the light from the hall. He remembered its position, then shut the door behind him and shuffled forward in the dark, reaching his hands forward.

“El?” he whispered again. His hands touched the soft fabric of a blanket, he patted around, feeling for her.

The lights clicked on, flooding the room and blinding him for a moment.

“Hello Jared,” said a deep voice behind him.

Jared spun around to see a tall, balding man in a white suit-jacket. He held a martini in one hand and Ellen’s cellphone in the other.

“Are you here to have carnal relations with my daughter?” the man asked. He took a sip of his drink and arched an eyebrow at Jared over the glass.

“I… I wasn’t.” Jared tried to step back, but ended up sitting on the bed.

“You know, in my day it was customary to ask a gal’s father before you courted her.” Ellen’s father leaned against the door, blocking Jared’s only escape.

“I would have! I promise, It’s just, I’ve not heard of that stuff, Uh… sir. ” Jared pleaded.

“You can call me Mr. Weston,” he said. “Now, what were you planning on doing once you got in that bed?”

“N-nothing! I, I just wanted to see her, that’s all.”

“Oh?” Weston took another sip and began pressing buttons on Ellen’s phone. “Let’s see, hmm, ooh here’s a good one. ‘I wanna squeeze your tits baby.'” He sighed and shook his head. “Not even a kiss first? Kids these days.”

“That was just- we were just-” Jared fumbled for words under Mr. Weston’s steady gaze.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, downing the rest of his drink and setting it on a nightstand. He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and folded his arms.  “Why don’t you tell me exactly, in your own words, what you want to do to my daughter. And then you can go do it.”

“I… I want to…” Jared wilted under Weston’s calm, confident smile. “I want to tell her goodnight, Mr. Weston.” Jared stared at his feet.

Ellen’s father opened the door and swept an arm at the exit. “Be my guest, young man. She’s across the hall.”

Jared walked past Mr. Weston, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. He crossed the hall and opened the door.

“Hello Jared.” A middle aged woman in a white pantsuit sat, legs crossed, on the bed, holding a martini glass. She batted heavily painted eyes at him. “Are you here to fool around with my daughter?”

Jared slammed the door and ran, fleeing to the safety of the cold night air.

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