part 3 of 4
***********

Lakeshore Marina
New Orleans, LA
Tuesday, Feb. 12
Mardi Gras morning


The faint but distinct scent of old fish with a subtle undertone 
of sewage and petrol greeted us as we arrived at the marina.  
Roxanne lay at anchor in her slip as promised.  She was long and 
sleek, and even with her sails furled and fettered, at 60 feet she 
was an impressive ship, an extravagant luxury after the primitive 
shack I'd called home for the past half a year.

We clambered aboard and I keyed in the code that I'd just acquired 
to disarm the security system on a keypad attached next to the 
door of the wheelhouse and quarterdeck.   The little room 
contained the helm and also housed a generator, which I started, 
causing the ship to hum to life.  It also gave access to the main 
hatch that led below.  

A short flight of steps descended into the finely appointed yacht 
that featured two large staterooms, a spacious salon with its 
prominent bar and a fully stocked galley all finished out in 
shades of cream and beige with lots of highly-polished, teakwood 
paneling gleaming expensively.  The two staterooms were fore and 
aft and the salon and galley were port and starboard respectively 
and took up all the rest of the surprisingly open space amidships.  
I gasped at its beauty and austerity.    

I headed aft to the master stateroom with my meager belongings and 
Alex in tow.  The room featured a queen size bed on a raised dais 
of polished teakwood that stood in the center of the room.  There 
was enough space to walk comfortably beside the bed and built into 
the bulkheads on either side was a pair of large teakwood 
wardrobes.  

I toed off my boots, unzipped the canvas tote out of which I'd 
been living and began to "unpack".  My entire wardrobe consisted 
of the inevitable "all-purpose" black mini-dress that could be 
pulled from the bag, shaken and donned with a minimum of 
maintenance, my Powerpuff Girls t-shirt and denim mini-skirt, a 
light, gauzy cotton shift, and the clothes I wore, black jeans and 
soft cashmere sweater over which I wore my own short-cropped 
leather jacket.  I had given Alex's back to him as I no longer 
planned on having to sleep with it in his stead.  Besides, he 
looked so much better in it than I did.  The remaining contents of 
the bag, a well-worn pair of sandals, some underwear and a few 
other personal items, I pulled out and stowed in the drawer and 
cubbies that were built into the wardrobe.  

The day was warmer than I'd expected and I decided that the 
sweater and leather had to go.  I stripped off the jacket while 
Alex lay across the bed and watched, wolf whistling 
appreciatively.  I hung it neatly in the wardrobe and had just 
pulled the sweater over my head when I sensed him in motion.  

I felt his heat before he ever touched me.  He came up behind me 
and encircled me in his arms, pressing his full length against my 
back.  His hands slid up and around to cup my breasts, his 
fingertips brushing over my turgid nipples as they strained 
against the soft black cotton bra that covered them.  I moaned 
softly and lifted my arms, reaching backwards to rest my hands on 
his shoulders as I massaged his trapezius muscles.  My fingers 
moved as if possessed of their own will.  They danced up his neck 
and fisted in his hair as he bent to kiss and nibble the side of 
my neck and down my shoulder. 

My head fell limply sideways in silent surrender to his will, to 
his lips.  With a flick of his wrist he had loosened my jeans and 
slid them down over my hips to pool at my feet, leaving me nearly 
naked and vulnerable to his whims. His hands glided over my body, 
my flesh thrilling to his touch, tingling beneath his fingers.  
The contact seemed almost electrically charged as he dragged his 
hands up the insides of my thighs, parting them easily as I 
stepped out of the pants.  

One hand slid inside my panties, his touch lingering in the damp 
nest of curls, middle finger dipping between the swollen lips and 
sliding wetly over my clit.  Inexorable desire pooled like 
quicksilver low in my belly and between my legs.  I thrust and 
rotated my hips against the heat of his hand trying to relieve the 
slow ache that had set up there.  I felt undeniable evidence of 
his own arousal on my backside and I nudged against him, 
maximizing our contact.

He turned me gently until I faced him and held me at arms' length 
to look into my eyes.  "Marley," he began softly, "we have to 
talk."

Dear God, I thought to myself, now?!  I captured his face between 
my hands and pulled his lips down to mine.  "It will just have to 
wait," I said between nips at his bottom lip, "I'm busy.  Think 
you'd like to join me?"

His lips curled in a feral looking grin.  "It'll keep," he said 
turning his full attention to the task at hand.  He pressed his 
lips to mine in a hard, open-mouthed kiss and placing his hands 
under my buttocks, lifted me until I had to wrap my arms and legs 
around him to keep my balance.  He carried me the few steps to the 
raised bed and climbed up on it still holding me wrapped tightly 
against him.  

He lay me back onto the soft pillows and coverlet, deepening the 
kiss, his weight pressing me into the bed. I felt his hardness 
pressing against my thigh through the 501 Levis he still wore.  I 
grasped at the hem of his white t-shirt and pulled it up and over 
his head, baring his smooth, tanned and muscular chest.

He sat up on his knees until he knelt between my thighs and popped 
the buttons of his fly in rapid succession, divesting himself of 
the jeans as he shimmied them down and over his hips.  His cock 
sprang from the denim, a proud Priapus ready for action and 
bobbing slightly with each beat of his heart.  He pulled his legs 
free and knelt again, this time naked, between my brazenly spread 
legs.

He slipped his thumbs in the band of the black cotton French-cut 
bikinis that, coupled with the matching bra, were all I had left 
on and dragged them over my butt.  He lifted my legs, bringing 
them together in front of him so he could slide the panties down 
my thighs and off, over my pointed toes.  He now held a foot in 
each of his hands.  He parted them, splitting me wide as my legs 
rested on the bed to either side of me.  He leaned over me, and 
slid his arms under me, one around my middle and one snaking up 
between my shoulder blades to cup the back of my head and he 
pressed his lips to mine.  His tongue plunged into my eager mouth 
to gently suck and wrestle mine.  His indurate member pressed hard 
into my thigh.  I tried to shift my position underneath him, to 
point his unyielding flesh to my aching core, but he shifted his 
hips and his weight to prevent me from doing so.  I let out a 
piteous moan, and he released my lips.  His abs and thighs flexed 
and with his arms wrapped firmly around my torso, mine about his 
neck, he lifted until he sat up on his heels and I straddled his 
lap.  

Now free to move, his hands joined each other in the middle of my 
upper back and made quick work of the hook and eye fasting of the 
bra.  He pulled the material away and grasping me by my upper 
arms, brought my chest level with his mouth.  His tongue lapped 
out and bathed the underside of one breast, then the other.  He 
continued his ministrations sucking my left nipple into his mouth. 

The position of his hands freed my hips and I took full advantage 
of the maneuverability.  Lifting with my thighs, I shifted my 
pelvis until I felt the head of his cock nudging against my inner 
lips.  "I want you inside me," I whispered and he pulled me down, 
plunging into me to the hilt.  Even as wet as I was, he stretched 
me to my limit and I gasped, although not quite in pain.  

The dance began, thrust and riposte.  

Point.  

Counterpoint.  

We clung to one another as I rode him hard and wild. Our embrace 
tightened in direct proportion to the intensity of the sensations 
that flooded our perceptions.  My inner muscles clutched at him, 
pulsing around him as his thrusts became more erratic and we both 
toppled over the edge together.  My orgasm expanded in concentric 
ripples as with a stone dropped into a still pond. He cried out 
and his entire body went rigid as his cock twitched and he spilled 
into me and my inner muscles still convulsed around him.  

As the climax subsided and we had regained control of our limbs, 
we uncoupled and fell to the bed, panting.  We lay face to face 
and he reached his free hand up to cup my cheek.  His thumb 
stroked across my upper lip, wiping the sheen of sweat from it.  
He gazed deeply into my eyes, an indelible sadness imbedded in his 
expression and I was sure that he wanted to say something.  
Instead, he remained silent, only kissing my forehead softly and 
pulling me close to him.  He enfolded me within his arms and we 
fell asleep wrapped in the comfort of each other's secure embrace.


~%*~%*~%*


Decommissioned Prison 
Boron, California
Mardi Gras Night
the present 


I heard the key turning in the lock and I knew that my respite was 
over.  The faint, deep rumbling sound of masculine humming pricked 
my ears, only it wasn't J-Dog who came through the door.  It was 
Green.  

"Well, well, well," he said, his deeply southern and sullen drawl 
ringing against the tile, "if my timin' ain't just perfect."  A 
huge smile cracked his face, showing all his perfect teeth.  His 
aspect, however, was one of ferocity rather than friendliness.

I clutched the tiny towel to me, trying hard not to look as if I 
was attempting to cover myself.  He leaned in the door jamb, 
taking up most of the space with his massive bulk.  He watched me 
as if I were a porno just starting. 

"Touch your tits for me, Marley," he said in a growl that I hated 
myself for finding sexy.  

"Fuck you, Green," I said flippantly as I finished toweling off, 
briskly and clinically as I could possibly manage.  I reached for 
the pile of clean clothes that J-Dog had lain out and out of the 
blue, the right side of my head met with Green's open, but 
prodigious, left palm. I suddenly found myself on hands and knees, 
with much-cliched stars dancing before my eyes while some 
disconnected part of my brain wondered why it's called "blacking 
out" when things actually go red.  

"I said to play with your tits, damn it," he said, restating his 
directive.

I stood up quickly, wiping the blood from my split bottom lip with 
the back of my knuckles.  Without further resistance, I raised my 
hands and caressed my breasts.  I disconnected myself from the 
flood of emotions from rage to shame that threatened to overcome 
me, to break down the finely honed defenses I'd spent a lifetime 
developing and leave me irreparably shattered.  

"Good girl," he chuckled, patting me on the head.  "Now get 
dressed, and don't give me any more shit.  If you make me miss 
Will & Grace, I'll make you regret it.  Got me?"

I nodded my assent and once again reached for the pile of clothes, 
although this time not taking my eyes off Green.  I dug through 
the pile, but found no panties.  Leave it to J-Dog to "forget" to 
provide a clean pair.  There was nothing to be done about it,  
he'd taken away the clothes that I'd stripped so I'd just have to 
slip on the scrubs au natural.  I felt naked and vulnerable 
beneath the thin cotton, but I figured that was pretty much what 
J-Dog had in mind when he neglected to supply the underclothes.

I dressed quickly and with no sense of showmanship.  Green seemed 
to have lost interest anyway, which suited me just fine and he had 
expressed a desire to be somewhere else, which also met with my 
wholehearted approval.  He led me back into the infirmary.  "On 
the bed," he barked, and picked up the restraints.  

"Come on leave them off, Green, please," I said, "I'll be good.  I 
swear."

"Now, Marley.  Tick-tock," he said, looking pointedly at the 
imaginary watch on his wrist.

I was too tired to fight.  I climbed on the bed and he secured the 
four arm and leg restraints but left off the chest strap so I 
could at least shift my hips and roll over somewhat.

"See you soon, baby," he leered, and ran his hand up the inside of 
my right thigh, groping my crotch through the thin cotton scrubs.  
Suddenly, the reason for the restraints became apparent.  Turning 
on his heel, he left, closing the door heavily behind him and I 
heard the bolt slide into the lock.  

His voice echoed in my ears, 'see you soon...' Dread filled my 
belly and a cold sickness crawled up my throat.  "And I thought I 
had nothing to look forward to," I muttered sardonically to 
myself.  


~%*~%*~%*


Lakeshore Marina
New Orleans, LA
one year ago
Mardi Gras evening


We slept a long time, naked in a comfortable tangle of arms and 
legs.  His embrace, coupled with the gentle rocking of the boat, 
brought about a warm sense of security that was intrinsically 
reminiscent of the womb that I couldn't remember feeling since. I 
woke slowly to the sound of the waves slapping rhythmically 
against the fiberglass hull.  Alex stretched languidly and yawned, 
reminding me of a large and graceful cat.  He rose from the bed, 
bussing me lazily but thoroughly before temporarily abandoning me 
amid the tousled bedclothes, and crossed to the head.

Upon his return, we made love again.  Desperately.  His every 
caress seemed tinged with quiet urgency, as if he was certain that 
any one of them could be the last.  After sating ourselves once 
again in each other's bodies and a quick shower, we dressed, 
grabbed a few cold Molson's from the fully stocked galley and took 
them topside in a silver ice bucket. We spread out thick blankets, 
and reclined on the main forward deck to relax, sip the brews and 
soak in the local color.  

A slight breeze had kicked up, but the evening was still 
unseasonably warm and sultry.  It had been one of those bright, 
beautiful days that strongly hinted at the oppressive summer heat 
to come, but was still a welcome relief from the cold, gray 
drabness that, even in this subtropical setting, had settled over 
everything during the winter months.  

Boats of every economic class, adorned in lights of purple, gold 
and green and occupied by revelers in varying stages of 
intoxication, formed a sort of parade as they sailed in and out of 
the marina.  The very air seemed steeped in celebration, with 
zydeco music wafting on the still evening breeze.  The mood was 
catching, and before long, the beer and the beat had insinuated 
themselves into my hips bringing the irresistible urge to dance.  

We had passed a little bar about half a block from the marina and 
it was from there that the music emanated.  I begged him to take 
me there.  "Come on, Alexei," I cajoled, "how many times do you 
get to be in New Orleans for Mardi Gras?"  I rose on my knees and 
began to sway my hips seductively before him as he leaned on one 
elbow sipping his beer with an amused smirk playing about his 
lips.

"Marley," he began, the sadness creeping back into his eyes, "we 
still need to talk."  

"Later!" I teased, choosing to ignore the melancholy, mistaking it 
for masculine brooding, and knocked his elbow playfully out from 
under him.  With a motion that was fairly swift, given the level 
of my growing intoxication, I rolled him onto his back, straddled 
his hips, and began to tickle.  

The sadness fled and an evil glint replaced it as he quickly and 
easily flipped me off him and reversed our positions.  I knew that 
I was playing with fire when I started it, I was hyper-ticklish 
and knew he would exact his revenge posthaste.  His fingers sought 
the sensitive spaces between my ribs and the edges of my hip bones 
and unerringly connected with those nerve endings that had me 
twitching in uncontrollable mirth.  I was soon in tears of 
laughter, begging for his mercy, for him to let me up before I 
lost my battle with the beer and literally wet myself.  My pleas 
were apparently pitiful enough to move him, for he relented and 
let me climb less than gracefully to my feet and rush quickly 
below to the head.  

When I emerged a few minutes later, he had yielded to the party 
atmosphere and stood waiting at the main hatch with both our 
leather jackets in hand.  He held mine out for me as I shrugged 
into it and then pushed into his own.  I lifted my arms and draped 
them gracefully over his shoulders.  I raised up on my tiptoes and 
whispered breathily in his ear, "Spasibo, Alexei."

"I'll exact payment for my cooperation later," he said with a 
grin, the hint of gloom still flickering behind his gaze.  

We set out for the little club we'd passed on the way in that 
morning.  Amberjack's was a squat building much wider than it was 
tall.  Set back a fair distance from the roadway, it was the lone 
building on that side of the street for half a block.  Loud zydeco 
music poured out of the open front doors along with a half-dozen 
rednecks in full party mode.  One of them staggered as they passed 
with a loud, "Happy Mardi Gras, baby, show me your tits!"  

Alex bristled immediately, but I popped off, "You don't have 
anything to throw that I want!"  And they climbed into a large 
crew cab pickup, laughing at their shot-down comrade without 
further incident.

The volume of the music was daunting at first and the sea of 
humanity that filled the place was impressive.  I found myself 
wondering how on earth they managed to squeeze that many people in 
such a small area.  The Fire Marshall would have had kittens if 
he'd seen the crowd that filled the building well beyond its 
maximum capacity.  Neither of us took any notice of the two men in 
black suits that followed us inside and took up position at the 
end of the bar.

Cajun fiddles and accordions accompanied dancers that jammed the 
tiny dance floor and the Dixie beer, a vigorously toxic local 
brew, flowed copiously.  Alex spun me around, and teasing me with 
a sardonic "aaieee," pulled me into an effortless two-step, 
leading us in a great arc around the floor.  The zydeco was 
interspersed with classic 70s rock and blues and we danced with 
the complete abandon of the very young and the very drunk.  

It was impossible not to get swept up in the celebration.  We both 
drank way too much, totally immersed in the Mardi Gras spirit, and 
were completely festooned with colorful beads by the time the 
place shut down at midnight on the dot.  Somewhere along the way, 
I had even acquired a much coveted Zulu crew coconut.  "You don't 
have to go home," the bartender shouted across the thinning crowd, 
"but you can't stay here.  Mardi Gras is over folks, time to move 
it along!"

We decided that riding the bike, even the scant few blocks to the 
marina, was a bad idea, so we left it in the parking lot and set 
out on foot back toward the boat.  In retrospect, I should have 
noticed the two spooks who shadowed us to the marina.  Every alarm 
in my head should have been sounding furiously, but I allowed 
myself to be distracted by the alcohol and Alex's fine ass that I 
couldn't seem to keep my hands off.

We clambered back on board the Roxanne and made our way below to 
the spacious and luxurious salon where we grabbed another couple 
of Molson's and sprawled on the roomy sofa.  There was a 
television connected to a satellite receiver which we turned to a 
music channel and promptly ignored.  Soon, we were making out like 
a couple of high school kids, groping and panting, consumed with 
passion.

Without enough room to properly maneuver, we soon became 
frustrated with the setting.  Alex clamped his arms around me and 
stood, sweeping me literally off my feet.  I wrapped my legs 
around his hips to help support my weight and to give myself 
enough leverage to lean back slightly.  I pulled my shirt over my 
head, baring my breasts.  He bathed each nipple with his tongue as 
he carried me to the master stateroom.  

Once there, we both finished undressing impatiently, throwing 
clothes here and there in our haste to be rid of them, and fell as 
one onto the large bed.  His bare skin felt warm and soft against 
mine, his muscles hard and straining.  I sought his mouth, sucking 
at his tongue greedily as his hands explored every inch of me.  He 
rolled me over onto my back forcefully with a snarl of pure 
animalistic lust that curled his lip and induced in me a state of 
unadulterated arousal.

His fingers interlaced with mine and then pinned my hands above my 
head as I undulated beneath him, fully enjoying his dominance.  I 
demonstrated my willing submission and spread my legs wide to give 
him entrance between them.  He pushed at my entrance and found me 
ready and eager.  He plunged hard and we were joined with a 
moaning sigh.  I met him thrust for thrust, keeping pace with one 
another as we were swept along a river of sensation.  Waves of 
pleasure crested and ebbed, washing us inexorably toward the final 
confluence.  

His fingers tensed as his strokes became erratic, almost violent, 
while my own hips lifted and fell of their own accord in response.  
His cock twitched and he covered my mouth in a rough kiss that 
plunged me into the same orgasmic abyss.  "Marry me," he growled 
as he buried his face in my neck covering my throat in gentle 
kisses as our breathing slowly returned to normal and the throes 
of our passion subsided.  

"You should be careful, Alexei," I said puckishly, "one day I 
might think you're serious and hold you to it."  His reaction 
startled me.

"Goddamn it, Marley, I *am* serious," he frowned.  

I gaped at him for a moment, looking rather like a codfish.  Then 
suspicion and pleasure wrestled with each other for control of my 
lips quirking them into a guarded grin.  "I'll be damned," I 
whispered half to myself, "you *are* serious, aren't you?"

His eyes bored into mine, probing them, seeking the connection 
that we had built over time.  He nodded almost imperceptibly in 
answer to my rhetorical question and took a deep breath. "For the 
past six months the thing that got me through each day was this 
image of you that I kept in my mind.  You were the focus that 
enabled me to survive.  

"Even though we both know that all this," he said, pointing 
ambiguously at the world at large, "might be gone tomorrow, I 
don't want to have to face any part of it without you."

I was completely dumbstruck for a moment.  I knew that I should 
leave at once, that I should pack up my meager belongings and get 
the hell out, but I couldn't.  I was completely and incurably in 
love with him, but I knew in my heart that it would be the death 
of us both.  

"Alexei," I began, my eyes filled with the same sadness that had 
been haunting his for a week, "I don't know what to say.  You know 
that I am your willing slave - that I would die for you.  My heart 
has been yours since the first time I saw you, but nothing more 
can ever come of this.  As long as we are under their yoke," my 
hand lifted involuntarily to the back of my neck, "the liability 
of my love would be the death of you and I won't have that."  A 
tear trickled forward, betraying the thousands behind it.

"Leave with me," he said simply.

"How?" I demanded.  "Are you so tired of the life they allow us?" 

"They won't come after us, if we're dead..." 

"They'd never give up the search without our bodies to autopsy.  
Our DNA is *more* than on file," I said refusing to look in his 
eyes as several more tears came spilling onto my cheeks.  

"Then yes, I'm tired of the life they allow us."  He turned away 
from me and my heart broke.

"I will run away with you, Alexei," I told him, my tears now 
flowing freely, "No matter how long we have, how much time they 
leave us, I want to spend it with you.  You do realize they will 
deactivate the chips and the cancer will come?"  

He nodded grimly.  "I don't care," he growled and pulled me in 
close to his face so that he could again kiss me deeply.

"Si l'etre, mon cheri," I whispered against his lips.  He 
feathered my brow with soft kisses and I fell asleep in his arms.

Several hours later, I woke with a restless need to pace.  I 
gently disengaged myself from Alex's embrace and grabbed a robe 
that the boat's owner had left hanging just inside the head.  I 
kissed the man for whom I'd just decided to die, gently on his 
closed, sleeping eyelids and gently brushed my lips over his.  He 
stirred faintly, but didn't wake as I padded silently, barefoot to 
the salon.  

The clock read just shy of 5am, so I made myself a pot of coffee.  
My brain whirred through last night's events and tried to come to 
some sort of understanding why love should override one's sense of 
survival.  I poured a dollop of cream into my mug, filled it the 
rest of the way with coffee and carried it aloft to the wheelhouse 
to watch the sun come up and to think in the early morning quiet.

The sky was turning a beautiful shade of fuchsia and a thick fog 
lay atop the water.  The wheelhouse was stuffy, so I disarmed the 
security system and stepped out onto the foredeck.  My mug steamed 
invitingly and I raised it to my lips.  Sipping carefully, I 
inhaled the rich coffee smell deeply.  Somewhere beneath the 
coffee was the faint odor of a burning cigarette.  I turned to 
seek its source and felt the sting in my hip even as my heart 
leapt into my throat at the sudden appearance of a man in a dark 
suit.

The world swam sickeningly and I felt hot coffee scalding my bare 
foot somewhere in the distance of my consciousness as my mug 
dropped heavily to the deck.  My legs crumpled and I felt myself 
being lifted off my feet.  Through a swimming haze of images, I 
saw one of the spooks from the bar open the door to the wheelhouse 
and lob something inside.

They were supporting me between them, running down the dock toward 
the marina entrance.  I felt the concussion from the blast as my 
abductors ducked behind a boathouse.

"Alexei!!!" I cried out in anguish and then everything went black.


~%*~%*~%*

End Part 3/4