"Do you really hate me so much?" Emile asked as he slid his shirt onto his body.
Jewel huffed, her body covered in a soft sheen of sweat. This man never seemed to grow tired. He was insatiable. She turned her body on the bed, rolling herself around. "Do you want the truth or would you like me to lie to you?"
He laughed. His deep voice vibrating off the walls and seeming to slap her. She frowned up at him, her face contorting into a scowl. For if looks could kill Emile would be lying dead on his cabin floor. After he slid his feet into his boots he reached for her, it had become somewhat of a routine, he would kiss her before he departed. Leaving her alone in his lonesome cabin.
She avoided his kiss this time, turning her face, his lips grazed her cheek. He chuckled a bit before turning her around, he sat on the bed and pulled her into his lap. There he wrapped his arms around her naked frame, squeezing her in his arms. She groaned, rage slowly creeping through her as she struggled in his hold. He grabbed the back of her head, his hand in her hair, before kissing her long and hard. She would let him have his kiss. The sooner he had it the quicker he would leave her be. At least that's what she told herself as she kissed him back.
His tongue grazed her bottom lip and she turned away, this was quickly getting out of hand. He would soon be wanting more than a kiss if this continued. "Enough! Take your kiss and go!"
He kissed her once more before standing and pulling her from his lap. She stared up at him breathlessly as he walked across the room and out of the door.
She grunted in frustration, her pent up anger getting the best of her. She grabbed a pillow and tossed it onto the floor. She ran both hands through her hair and stood, her legs felt weak and strained as if she had been running for miles on end. She moved toward the vanity mirror to examine herself once again. Another frown spread across her face as she saw the same familiar red patches across her skin. She had small round red love marks all across her collar bone from Emile's constant suckling.
The man was insatiable. She looked down at her red dress and nightie, lying in a pile, torn. Her anger seemed to catch fire in that moment. She kicked the dresser but immediately regretted it, her bare foot crying out in pain.
"Bloody....hell! Ugh!" She hopped around for a moment until she realized that she had knocked a drawer open. Her eyes widened curiously as she looked inside it. Inside it lay a journal. She pulled it out and flipped through it, stopping on one page and scanning its contents.
One thing in particular stuck out to her.
Jacques.
Her curiosity spiked and she continued to read through the pages.
There were maps and towns and cities and even islands all written with the purpose of finding this Jacques.
She furrowed her eyebrows as she closed the journal, hugging it close to her.
Emile, being the lusty pirate that he was, was probably trying to rob this man. She placed the journal back into the drawer and closed it. She pulled open another and a smile across her lips.
In this drawer was Emile's clothing. She pulled out one of his large white ruffled shorts and a pair of brown trousers.
She pulled the shirt on and couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. It was huge on her, her breasts visible through the white material. Next she pulled the trousers on and frowned.
The material rubbed against her skin in an uncomfortable way, it fit snug around her thighs but hung loose around her waist.
She examined herself in the mirror before laughing. She looked like a cabin boy. All expect for her breasts and her feminine features and her long hair.
Suddenly an idea hit her. She turned toward the door before walking toward it. It dawned on her that she had never actually seen or heard him lock the door. She grabbed the knob and twisted it, adrenaline suddenly running through her veins. The door click open and she almost jumped for joy! She had been on this horrid ship for a week! And her way out had been right within her reach for all this time.
She ran toward the dresser and gave herself a once over in the mirror. She really did look like a cabin boy...but her hair. Her hair would give her away.
She bit her lip before pulling the rest of the drawers open, hoping to find something to cut her hair with. Her eyes widened with triumph as she found a pair of sewing scissors. The scissors were small and she knew it would take her a while. She stood in front of the mirror and began to saw at her hair with the tiny scissors, her hair silently hitting the floor around her.
Her black curly locks fell from her head and her heart was pounding as she watched her hair length shrink. She stopped once her hair framed her face.
Her hair was now a short curly bob.
She ran toward the door, bare feet and all. She pulled the door open slowly and stepped out. Her heart was thudding against her chest as made her way, as calmly as she could, up the stairs and onto the deck. The deck was nearly empty. A few men swabbed the deck, others were climbing up the mass.
She lowered her head, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She walked along the rails, moving behind deck supplies. As she stood there for a moment she froze. The ship wasn't moving. Her head shot up and she stared down at the back of the ship. The ship was docked.
Excitement coursed through her veins and before she thought it through she climbed over the rail, took a deep breath and jumped.
She hit the water with a loud splash, not really caring if she had been noticed, she began to swim toward wooden bridge if the dock. Her father had taught her and her brothers how to swim years ago and she was suddenly grateful.
She reached the bridge and pulled herself up. Her hair clung to her wet cheeks. The shirt she wore showcase her large breast as it hugged her wet chest. Her trousers stuck to her like glue.
She ran through the crowded dock, her wet hair flapping in the wind behind her. She was free! She had escaped that barbarians clutches!
A wide smile spread across her face as she sprinted past large groups of men.
All she needed now was to find a way home. She reached the streets and stopped to catch her breath. She She looked around hoping to find an officer.
When she spotted none she began to run up the street, the wind blowing past her wet clothing. She shivered before stopping. She heard a horse whine and she looked up. Two fairly tall men were ridding her way.
"Excuse me!" She yelled, catching there attention.
They sent curious looks her way before coming toward her.
One them, a grey haired man with wrinkles and an almost evil presence smirked down at her.
"I-I-I just wanted to know....," she stuttered under the man's gaze, "Where...Is this England?"
The man lifted a brow. "You are in England."
His voice was scratchy and it reminded her of nails being rubbed against a blackboard. She took a hesitant step back, not really sure what is was, but she was suddenly unsure of this old man.
"I see...thank you. Could you point me to the nearest police station?" Her voice was shaky.
He raised a brow at her.
"Why the rush? There aren't many women around her who match your beauty."
Her cheeks paled.
The second man smiled, "How much do you charge?"
She turned and ran, ignoring their questions. As she sprinted down the street, back toward the port, she hurt laughter behind her.
A gasped escaped her lips as she felt her hair being pulled. Her feet lifted off the ground and she screamed. She grabbed at her hair and the man's wrist, trying to escape his grip.
"I'll let you have this one, dear boy." The older man said as he turned his horse around.
The man holding onto her hair laughed, a lecherous smile on his face. "Thank you, Jacques. I'll gladly accept."
The old man galloped away on his horse and her eyes widened. Jacques.
She knew that name.
The man holding her hair pulled harder and her thoughts left her completely, she yelped as she struggled in his hold.
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