Jen stood under the shower, the pressure of the steaming water beating down on her head. As she looked down at the soap suds rinsing down her cleavage she pondered the recent situation. Bob was obviously a bastard, he'd set her up. Whilst she had confidently cast herself as the bait to win the cash her grandfather needed, Bob was in turn setting a greater trap. You don't end up with a multi-million dollar lifestyle without playing some pretty major games, way beyond her reckoning. But grandpa, he'd enjoyed the blowjob far too much by her reckoning. Then again, she had really gone to town on him, not many guys of any age could have resisted her ministrations.
As she dried herself she shrugged off the worries she felt stirring in her mind. Bob had really left them both with no choice but to go through the ordeal... and to be honest, it hadn't been all that bad, she reflected with a wry smile.
In the lounge, Bert was sat, determinedly looking away from Jen as she returned from the bathroom. He was determined to take his lead from her attitude. If she was pissed at him, he'd know how to handle things, if not, well his attitude would be different.
Jen came into the room, wearing shorts (and man, were they short!) and a halter top. Beneath the two items of clothing Bert could see the outline of a tiny bikini, not that it really hid much. He looked away, determined not to be accused of lechery.
Jen sat down on the end of the sofa, also determined not to make eye contact. In the end, the tension grew too much and both of them went to speak at once.
"Grandpa..."
" Jen...."
The silence oozed back into the gap where they both wanted to speak. Bert cleared his throat, Jen checked her nails.
"Jen... about what happened earlier.... erm, I'm sorry." Bert stumbled through his apology. After all, it had been the best blowjob he could ever remember.
"OK, grandpa. I'll accept your apology. But I don't want to find myself in that kind of position again, you understand?" Jen still couldn't look him in the face. Her cheeks still burned with embarrassment as she thought back to the scene outside. Despite everything it had felt kind of good, very naughty, but good.
"Let's go down and have a look at this boat then, shall we?" Jen hung a Chanel bag over her shoulder, picked up her shades and swept from the room. Bert followed behind, admiring the roll of her hips under the tiny shorts she was wearing. If all I get was that one blowjob, he thought, I can die happy!
Downstairs Bob met them at the door, escorting Jen through the door with his hand suspiciously low on the small of her back as they made their way to the waiting people carrier. The air con was again running flat out and the leather seats were chilly on Jen's legs as she sat down. The effect on her body was not wasted on either Bob or the chauffeur who helped her with her seatbelt. A quick glance from behind his sunglasses swept the length of her slender body in appreciation. Jen simply ignored him.
The MPV made its way through the winding streets of the town, passing small shops on either side. Bob waved to a couple of people as they swept by. They acknowledged him with friendly waves and smiles; Bob was obviously accepted by the locals.
Arriving at the quayside, Jen looked out at a forest of masts where the local flotilla of yachts lay at anchor. She had never been on a sail boat before and was quite excited at the prospect. Their chauffeur led them to the side of the dock, where a small launch sat, engine ticking over gently as it waited for them. Stood at the controls was a dark haired young man, tanned to the colour of mahogany, dressed in immaculate white trousers and shirt. Bob led the way down to the gangplank and helped his guests aboard. The chauffeur untied the rope, passed the end to the crewman and stepped back as he opened the throttle and the launch headed out through the floating pontoons, yachts and launches, seagulls screaming as they circled overhead.
As the chaos of the moorings close to the dockside dropped away behind them the average value of the boats increased. Out towards the harbour wall were moored the real big vessels, the kind of vessels that only really the really well-heeled can afford.
It was towards one of these that the launch was now headed. As they approached, Jen could read the name painted on the bow: "Nothing Ventured..." and the port of registration, "Cannes" below.
Bert knew a little about boats, but even he was taken aback by the size of this gleaming white beauty.
"What size is she?" he asked Bob as they drew up at the stern where a pair of jet skis and the hoist for the launch were located. Bob helped them step across from one boat to the other and swept his arm around the deck.
"Welcome aboard Nothing Ventured. She's an Overmarine Mangusta, and she's 108' long, top speed of 46 knots. Not bad eh?"
Jen and Bert made their way down the steps into the main state room, where a different member of crew greeted them. Again dressed in perfect white uniform, he welcomed them all aboard again, explaining their schedule for the day ahead in a slight Scandinavian accent.
"We will be leaving in just a few minutes, once my colleagues have stowed the launch and taken up their stations for the trip. We will cruise out into the bay, and then head east to a quieter bay where we will stop for a swim and lunch on the beach. I am Captain Tomas, and will be in command throughout your day's journey. If there are any queries throughout the day, please feel free to speak to me or any other member of the crew. There are six of us aboard, so you should be able to find someone fairly easily, even on a boat as large as this." As he spoke, a gentle beep came from the control panel upstairs.
"Excuse me, please, I must make ready for our departure." Bert followed him up to the flying bridge, taking in the perfect interior of the boat on the way. Forward of the bridge was a large sun deck, big enough for a dozen people to lounge in the Mediterranean sunshine in comfort.