Fisherman's Widow Stories

"A Pirate's Party"

By Dryad

She didn’t know why she did it.

Sure they were on vacation, a lovely, warm vacation. Somewhere where the sand was soft as baby powder and far away from the heaps of snow she knew were waiting at home.

But that still didn’t explain her momentary insanity.

Her husband was off on an all day excursion fishing for Jack Cravals and Bone Fish and maybe some Redfish. Marlin was too much work in his opinion. After all, it’s how she had convinced him that the Keys would be the ideal vacation. Nice scenery for her, plenty of play for the kids, and fishing for him.

But the night before, when they’d gone down to the docks to find a fishing charter, the boys spied it.

A pirate ship. Yes, a pirate ship in the 21st century. A Brig to judge, two-masted, but the humming on board made her realize it was motorized as well as sail driven. Instead of cannons were huge water cannons. It was garishly painted black and red and gold. The boys were jumping up and down, “Can we, can we, can we???” as only excited 8 and 10 year olds can do.

“Of course! Mom will take you on it tomorrow, while I go fishing.” Her husband rashly promised. So much for her nice, quiet sunbath out on the beach. She gave him a dirty look over the boys’ heads. He mouthed, “I’ll make it up to you.” But she wasn’t sure how; it had to be a cruise for children and the inebriated. Just what she was trying to get away from. So after arranging for his fishing trip the next day, they went to the pirate ship and arranged to join the 9 am.

Her husband woke her by accident, trying to slide out of the bed in the predawn glow. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but found it impossible. She rolled out of bed, and pulled the light yellow sundress she had bought for the trip. It wasn’t anything fancy, just cool, even if the straps didn’t allow for a bra. Her assets were still saluting the sun, so she figured she was okay with that. And anyway, it was her vacation, wasn’t it?

By 6 am, the boys were up and excited, playing “pirate” and yelling out things like, “Aaaarrr, matey!” and “Yo, ho ho and a bottle of Rum!”. She felt bad for telling them to keep quiet but she didn’t need them waking up the neighbors at this ungodly hour. To while away the time she took them down to the beach, where they could be as loud as they wanted. They picked up driftwood sticks and began having swordfights. After some time, she figured one of the restaurants should be open and took them down for breakfast.

She ordered a fruit salad and a bagel while the boys chowed down on pancakes dripping in maple syrup. She had to keep reminding them not to talk with their mouths full. It didn’t sink in until Cameron started coughing, choking on a bit of bacon. After that, and an extra glass of juice, the boys settled down albeit temporarily.

By the time they finished eating it was just about time to head down the pier. The boys ran ahead, scared seagulls flying off the pilings. The sea breeze that picked up blew her long hair in front of her eyes. Near the end of the dock the boat bobbed in the water. Already, there were a few other people, along with the crew.

She stopped dead in her tracks. The male crewmembers were dressed in pirate costumes, a la Errol Flynn. Tight black leotards and flowing cream poet shirts belted with thick leather belts low on their hips. They were a horny woman’s dream. Her sons’ calls of “Hurry up, Mom!” shook her out of her reverie. At least there would be something for her to do on the cruise.

As they boarded the ship, one of the crewmen held her hand to assist her down the step to the deck. Her boys were already being handed water guns by a female pirate dressed in what could only be described as wench wear. She could feel the engines thrum below as they moved out into the bay. She watched idly as the boys ran around the deck, playing on the ratlines and ship’s wheel set up for their play, making fast friends with other children on the ship as only children can do. She noticed the lack of other parents and realized most of the crew must’ve been hired as child wranglers. Oh well.

It was then that the captain, for he couldn’t have been anything else, came off the forecastle deck. Her breath stuck in her throat. Pure male perfection in a uniform that left nothing to the imagination. She gulped. He caught her gaze and gave a sheepish grin.

“Hi there! You must be Mrs. Aubrey, the lone parent brave enough!”

She nodded in answer.

“Garish, isn’t it? And I’m Evan.” he flashed a winsome smile.

“I don’t know. I imagine you get hit on a lot because of it,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Please call me Ann. ‘Mrs. Aubrey’ makes me sound like my mother-in-law.”

Her own buccaneers were chasing each other around the deck soaking everything in their path with the Supersoaker 3000’s they carried. She couldn’t follow what it was they were playing, but there were plenty of kids getting soaked.

“Seems like a nice set-up,” she said changing the subject.

“It is, during the tourist season, and during the Conch Republic Independence celebrations.” He replied, leaning against the ships’ rail. “Let me guess, the husband is fishing.”

She blushed. “You must see us fisherman’s widows a lot.”

He grinned. “Why do you think we have the costumes? Drums up business.” He chuckled. She would’ve nudged him but stopped herself; she didn’t know him well enough to be that familiar. She settled for replying, “That’s terrible!” but grinning with him through it. She looked out over the deck as the boys chased each other with their water guns.

She heard the blast of water before she felt it. Her nipples reacted quickly to the cold water, pushing out against the wet cloth, as though they hoped to escape into the warmer air. The cloth itself became nearly transparent so that even her areolas were visible.

“BOYS!” She yelled. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, berating the boys for not being more careful. She blushed dreadfully; she was talking with one of the sexiest men she’d seen in a while, and here she was acting like a gauche schoolgirl.

“Shit.” She muttered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey, this happens all the time. Come with me to the Captain’s quarters. We have some extra uniforms there.” He waggled his eyebrows. She gave it serious consideration. She knew he was flirting with her, but then, he himself had mentioned the myriad fisherman’s widows they had. It could be just as much an act as the rest. But hell, she was giving everyone a show now…she needed to get something over her. She followed him across the deck, circumspectly sighing over the perfection of his ass.

He led her beneath the forecastle deck into a shadowy room. It was furnished just as you would expect a pirate captain’s quarters to be furnished; a large wooden desk, old maps, swords and muskets hung on the walls. When she looked about, he noticed and explained.

“Sometimes we have to hold our festivities below decks, like when we hit a rain shower; so we use this room. She nodded as he pulled an extra poet’s shirt out of a chest then continued to shift stuff around looking for what she could only assume were the bottoms.

He pulled out a deep green pair of leggings that seemed to be short enough for her small frame.

“Thanks.” She said as he handed them over. She waited a moment then noticed he wasn’t leaving only turning his back to her. Taking a deep mental sigh (and another gawk at his perfect backside) she pulled the wet dress over her head. She let it drop to the floor after she used it to dry her still soaked breasts. Taking a quick peek to make sure his back was still to her, she pulled over the creamy poet’s shirt which did little to hide her attributes. She pulled the lacings tight but her skin could still be seen through the webbing. She sighed as she reached for the leggings.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he heard her sigh.

“Yeah, but this shows a bit more than I’m used to.” She shrugged as she pulled the leggings up her firm calves. They fit like a second skin; but then that is why the shirt flowed down to mid thigh. She could almost wear it as a dress. She called out, “You can turn around now.” Just as she was slipping her sandals back on her feet, he did so going to the door and opening it for her. She picked up the dress and straightened up. That is when she noticed beyond where he had been standing, an old fashioned mirror. The lech! An evil thought came into her head, and she brightened immensely. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off but she was willing to try.

She flounced out the door ahead of him, reaching for her severely tied lacings, loosening them considerably. Hell, he’d already seen them so who cared? Christian ran up to her.

“Oh, cool, Mom! Can I change too??” she smiled at his excitement. “ ‘fraid not. Only have adult sizes and this was because you weren’t being careful, young man.” Evan broke in.

“Aw, man.” He whined before chasing someone else who hit him with a blast of water.

She crept to the nearest ratline, climbing high up to the top of the foresail to hang her dress to dry. She could see Evan and a number of other crew members watching her from below. It took a moment for her to realize she didn’t have the complete outfit on; the belt was missing so the shirt flowed away from her body, giving all a nice show up her shirt to her unencumbered breasts. Curling her leg around a spar, she tucked in a tail of the shirt. She could see Evan smirk while the others turned back to their work.

She snaked her way back down before jumping onto the deck.

“Nice climbing.” Evan strode toward her.

“Yeah, I saw you noticing.” She laughed.

“Well, I have to earn my keep so I better head off. If you want you can go to the forecastle deck; some lounge chairs should be out. The crew will keep the boys occupied. I think they’re going to have a mock battle with one of our other ships in a bit.” He dismissed her as he turned on his heel. Shrugging she took one last look at the view before heading toward the ladder to the forecastle. Catching sight of the boys she called to them, pointing where she’d be.

She settled into a chair and pulled a book out of her bag. She read it as she looked out over the edge to the deck. The kids were singing the theme to “Gilligan’s Island” but she guessed any sea song would do. The breeze was snapping the sails and the sun was warm. Perhaps this wasn’t a bad idea after all. She laid back in the chase, her book forgotten, as she snoozed in the sun.

It was the shadow that startled her awake. The sun’s intensity had gotten stronger, leaving a corona around the man standing over her.

“You know, you’ll burn if you sleep long in this sun.” His rich baritone murmured. Evan – she should have known.

“Well then, why don’t you stand right there since you’re blocking the sun so nicely right now.” Being facetious, she grinned as she shook herself awake. “How long have I been napping?”

“Long enough for us to turn back toward the harbor. We have another run to make at 12:30.” She nodded in response.

“So how much longer?” His eyes searched hers looking to see if there was a message between the lines. “We have about 45 minutes back.”

“Ah, I guess I should go up and get my dress down then.” She smiled.

She scanned the deck and saw her own ne’er do wells were scarfing down some sort of snacks. She climbed down to the main deck then grasped the rigging. Hand over hand, she pulled herself up to the foresail. Feeling the dress, she found it was indeed dry. A bit stiff from the sea salt breeze, but dry. She scurried down the lines to find that Evan had been staring up. She’d forgotten about the little show he’d had the first time she went up. Ah well no big deal at this point, it wasn’t something he hadn’t already seen. She flashed a cheeky grin as she walked past him. He nimbly followed her into the cabin.

She had her back turned when she heard the quiet click of the door. She chose to ignore it as she bent over to remove her shoes. She straightened up and then peeled the tights down over her hips shimmying from side to side. She could see Evan squirm a bit in her peripheral vision. She hopped on one foot then the other as she slid the tights off. Grasping the hem of the long flowing shirt, she pulled it up over her head, letting it flutter to the ground. She turned around to meet his eyes in the mirror. She murmured, “Do you like what you see?” somewhat sardonically.

Evan nodded in shock, embarrassed at being caught and put at a temporary loss for words. Heartened, she grabbed her dress, and slipped it over her head, to let it drape lusciously over her frame. She shimmied, coaxing it to fall over her hips, still bestowing him an angelic smile. She bent down and picked the clothing back up, handing it over to Evan.

“Thanks for the use of the clothes.” She grinned. He took them from her hand, and for a moment she thought he might try to kiss her. The thought must have shown in her eyes, for he suddenly awoke from his stupor, his fingers gripping the cloth. “No problem.”

She left him in the room giggling to herself as she stepped back onto the deck. She climbed back up to her chair and pulled out her book. Now she had a very good idea how her husband could make it up to her.

She just hoped he could keep up.

Copyright 2003 (

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