Virgin Islands

Virgin Islands

Virgin Islands by Francis

It had been several years since I quit my job at a leading software firm and began living my lifelong dream. I had used my savings to buy a 30-foot schooner and set sail with my girlfriend, Joan, to tour the world. Things had not worked out as I planned. Living on such a small boat with such a strong-willed woman was not fun. One night we had a big argument and she got off at the next port and flew back to the States. I cannot say that I hadn’t missed Joan, but I soon got used to the lonely nights.

While sailing through the Caribbean Islands I ran into a sudden gale that shredded my mainsail before I had a chance to take it down. After fighting the wind for several hours it died down and I started my little engine and headed to the nearest port, St. Teresa’s. I had visited that island several times in the past and had always found it quite charming. The harbour was too small to support cruise liners and there was no major airport, so the island avoided being too touristy.

After docking my boat, I walked to the shack of Bill, the harbourmaster. When I got there I was in for some bad news, Bill had retired and a new harbourmaster had not been appointed, so I needed to walk to the police station to get my permit. This did not bother me greatly since the station was only about a mile away and it was a typical St. Teresa’s day, sunny with a nice southeasterly breeze.

To get to the police station, which was in town, I had to pass through the market place. ‘Mangos, mangos here,’ cried women with flowing, blue, green, yellow dresses. Other women and men tried to hawk their carvings of birds, cats, and other animals. These were fantastic works of art, but way out of my limited budget. Just as open, other islanders offered me ganja, the native word for marijuana. This, I also politely refused. At one point, I thought I heard my name being called. When I looked around I noticed my good friend, Pauline. I had met her years ago and I always managed to stop to buy some of her mangos.

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‘Hello Francis, I tink it’s been years since you have come to visit us,’ she admonished me in her beautiful, island lilt. I explained that I wasn’t ignoring her, that it had been that long since I had been in the Caribbean. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, when I noticed a young girl of about eighteen standing nearby. ‘This is my daughter, Claire. I don’t think you have met her before.’ I would have never guessed the two were mother and daughter. Pauline was average height, with a large bosom, dark skin, and long dreadlocks that flowed to her waist. Claire was tall, light skin, average weight, and had straight hair that went to her shoulders. ‘Claire’s father sent her to boarding school in England, but she decided she wanted to live here.’ said Pauline.

‘Yes, I love me mum,’ said Claire as she gave her a hug. After talking a little longer I bid them farewell and continued on to the police station.

When I got to the station, the officer at the desk was not very helpful. He told me that the person that handled the docking permits was running an errand and would not be back for at least an hour. I had little else to do, so I sat on the hard bench in the lobby and waited. After a few minutes I heard a big commotion outside the station. A group of about five officers came in dragging two women. I could not believe my eyes – it was Pauline and Claire! Pauline was cussing the policemen out and Claire was sobbing violently. ‘Wait here,’ one officer cried as he handcuffed Claire down to the bench and pulled Pauline into the next room.

‘What happened?’ I asked Claire. She looked up with watery eyes and stared at me without recognition. After I reminded her who I was, she explained that they had been arrested for selling ganja, a charge that was completely fabricated. I believed her on this account. In all the years I had known Pauline, she had never tried to sell ganja. Give it away maybe, but never sell it. I got up to protest but decided to mind my own business because I didn’t want to be arrested too. I sat back down on the bench.

The officer had left the door open to the other room and I could see and hear what was going on. The chief of police was trying to persuade Pauline to sign a confession, saying that they would go easy on her and Claire. When she refused, the chief slapped her and said, ‘Maybe you won’t feel like such a rebel without those dreads.’ He then grabbed a pair of scissors from out of his drawer, and while the other officers held her down, began cutting off Pauline’s dreads, one by one. As each one hit the floor, she cursed them mightily. One officer looked up and noticed I was witnessing the entire event and he slammed the door shut.

As Claire and I sat there we heard several more muffled shouts and a few screams from Pauline and then everything went silent. The door opened and the officers walked out, laughing. ‘Maybe after she wakes back up, we will have some more fun with the bitch and her daughter.’ The policemen sauntered out of the building. Since it was noon, I assumed that they had gone to lunch. As Claire sat there sobbing, I put my arm around her to comfort her, but it did little good.

‘If you were truly my mother’s friend, you would do something,’ she said, looking at me coldly.

She was right. I couldn’t deny it. I went up to the desk officer and took my wallet out and told him that I would give him fifty bucks if he would go into the back room and leave Claire and I alone for a minute. Bribery is common in the islands and it only took twenty more to get the guy to leave. As soon as he was gone I went into the other room were Pauline was. What I saw took me aback. They had handcuffed her face down across the desk and had clumsily cut off her hair. There were parts where the scalp was showing, other parts where the hair was an inch long, and one or two three-foot dreads left attached. That was not the worst. Her dress had been pulled up to her waist and a billy club had been jammed into her butt.

I went over and gently woke her up and then, as she moaned, pulled the billy club out. I then began to look through the desk drawers for some keys. Luckily there was a spare pair and I got them out and undid the cuffs. With Pauline walking with a limp, we both went into the lobby and took Claire out of her cuffs. We ran out of the station into the busy square. People were staring at Pauline’s haircut.

‘This will not do,’ Claire said as she ripped the lower part of her dress off and wrapped it around her mother’s head.

‘We have got to leave the island,’ I exclaimed.

‘Never!’ said Pauline. ‘This is my home.’ I told her that her home would be jail if we did not get out of there and she nodded agreement.

When we got to the harbour I started the engine while Pauline and Claire untied the mooring lines and soon we were off. After we were safely out of St. Teresa’s waters I asked Pauline why she had been arrested. She said she thought that it was because Claire is the daughter of the Green Party candidate for Prime Minister and the current Prime Minister was trying to embarrass his campaign.

We sailed together for several weeks and I must say that I enjoyed every minute of it. Pauline was a lively conversationalist with a broad knowledge of the arts and literature and strong opinions about politics. Claire was quick and eager learner and I had soon taught her all I knew about sailing.

One night, after dinner, we were sitting on deck. Claire and I were watching Pauline wash her little bit of hair when Claire spoke up.

‘You know mum, you really should do something about that mess.’

‘What do you mean?’ Pauline replied.

Claire told her that it looked like a big rat’s nest and she might as well cut the rest of it off and start over. Pauline said she had not cut her hair in twenty years and wouldn’t feel right. She then asked me what I thought. I looked at her and almost burst out laughing. Claire was sitting behind her making cutting motions with her hands where Pauline couldn’t see. But I knew this was serious for Pauline, so I kept a straight face when I told her that she really would do better to start all over.

Pauline knew she was outnumbered and agreed. I went below and got a pair of scissors and came up to deck. While Pauline sat there dejectedly, her daughter took her few remaining dreads and snipped them off. ‘That’s not good enough,’ Claire said as she went below. She came back with my razor and shaving soap. Using salt water in the mug, she whipped up the lather and spread it over her mother’s head. Then she used the razor to carefully scrape the remaining hair from her head. When she finished she gripped a mug of water and poured it over Pauline’s head, rubbing her head to wash the soap off.

Pauline tentatively reached up and touched her freshly shaven head. ‘I like it,’ she exclaimed.

I caressed her scalp too, saying how good it felt. After a few minutes Claire yawned and went to bed. It was excellent timing because I was getting really turned on by Pauline. ‘Come here,’ I said. She scooted over and sat in my lap. I put one hand on her thigh and the other on her smooth head, rubbing both. Soon we both had our clothes off, making love in the moonlight as the gentle waves caressed the schooner.

Since I had only two beds in the cabin, I usually slept on deck. The next morning, when I woke up, Pauline was back below. I heard her and Claire arguing about something, but couldn’t tell what it was about. This was unusual since they always got along well. Claire came storming on deck in a huff.

‘What is wrong?’ I asked.

‘My mother is such a hypocrite. I think it would only be fair that since she cut her hair off, I can too.’

I told her that I agreed and went below to talk to Pauline. I explained to her that an important part of being a parent was allowing your children to make their own decisions. I then went back on deck. After about a half-hour Pauline came up holding a pair of scissors and the shaving mug. Claire jumped up and down excitedly until her mother put her hands on her shoulders and made her sit down. She then took her daughter’s ponytail and whacked it off. She began using the scissors furiously, cutting off large chunks of hair. At first Claire sat there giggling. Soon she got silent. Then as more and more hair came off she told her mother that it was short enough. Pauline was like a woman possessed.

‘You wanted a haircut and now you are going to get one, just like mine!’ Claire just began sobbing as Pauline finished with the scissors and began applying the shaving cream. She made quick work of the rest of Claire’s hair, shaving her head smooth, like her own.

After she wiped the cream off her head, Claire got up and looked at her reflection in a porthole window. ‘It’s all gone,’ she cried as she sat down, bawling.

‘Come here, baby,’ Pauline told. And then the daughter got up and sat in her lap. Pauline then reached up and unbuttoned the front of her own dress, exposing her massive breasts. To my surprise, Claire put her lips to one of her mother’s breasts and began sucking her nipple. I knew then that these two had a bond that would survive this little spat. They really looked like a mother and her baby, with Claire’s shiny, bald head.

Later that evening, as I lay on deck I began thinking about the day’s events and began to get excited. Soon, however, my spirits were dampened as it began to rain. I went below to sleep on the floor between the two bunks like I usually did when it rained. This time, I must have left the cabin door cracked open, because the floor began to get wet. By the time I shut the door the rest of the way, the floor was soaked. Claire and Pauline sat up in their bunks and began laughing at me.

‘I guess it’s going to be a wet dream night for you.’ Pauline cracked.

I told them it wasn’t fair, it was my boat! We soon decided that, since Pauline took up all of her bunk, I had no choice but to sleep with Claire. As I got settled into the teenager’s bunk, I tried to go to sleep, but she smelled so nice and felt so warm. In addition, her glistening, smooth head made it seem like she was nude like no other woman I had seen before. Soon I became excited. Claire must have felt me pressed against her because, as her mother snored in the next bunk, the girl turned over and took me into her hand, rubbing me. I was powerless as she caressed my chest with her tongue, slowly moving her shaved head down my body.


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