The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Twenty-Five :.

My name is Elliot Parker. And I am back.

I am still known as “the stowaway girl”.

I remember the last time I was in this world, the brush of the Captains lips. I shake the memory away from my mind. We are climbing further up into the forest. The Captain turns back every so often to see that I am still there, still walking behind. The crew follow behind. The jeers have quietened down since the Captain branded me his “property” in their eyes.

“So what’s the plan?” The words escape me and I can’t catch them and pull them back. The Captain’s head turned, the crew fell silent, expectation seeping through every sweating pore of skin.

The Captain smiled, but it was hidden from the crew. He was good at masking. Something he had promised to teach me. A mask that reveals the truth of an expression to one person not a crowd. It was a great skill, one that comes with practice. It takes control, however once you learn to see beyond the mask, that’s when things get very interesting. No one can fool you with the sight. I’ve always had a base of sight, but the Captain always seems to want to test it and make it grow. The mask the Captain wore was disdain in this very moment.

He turned and carried on walking. But I had unleashed a ticking time bomb, something simple, an idea, a question. One that he would need to answer.

I could hear the whispering behind me, in the humidity the sweat just clung to our skin like the words going through the men.

“You still want to know the plan, girl?” The Captain called behind him, throwing his question at me. I stopped in my tracks the man behind banging into me causing me to stumble and move a little faster. I trot up towards the Captain. “Yes Captain.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think the plan is? You’ve been watching me, weighing my movements. What is my plan?”

“High ground, following the stream.”

“Good, continue.”

“Find out what is around us, where we are and if there are ships.”


“A good secure spot for a camp for the night. A guardable area.”

“Why?” He turns to me now, his eyes locked into mine, drawing himself closer, I can feel his hand at my elbow, beginning to rise up my arm.

“It was too dangerous to stay on the beach, in… in case of fleet surviving the fire or the attention it would draw.” My breath catches as his hand rests at the side of my neck, his thumb stroking under my chin.

“Good” he whispers; I can feel his breath on my skin. He feels me swallow by the twitches in my neck, his eyes are still locked onto mine his smile flickers, brighter for a second. “You’re learning.” He is right, his mask has shown intimidation towards the crew but that is not the face I saw when I looked less with my eyes more with something more instinctual. I have tried to hold my own mask, a timid, scared mask. But that really isn’t what the Captain can see. “You’re a quick study.” His other hand is now resting just behind my elbow, the hand on my neck slides round the back of my neck under my hair. To the crew they would have seen me flinch, to him I am resisting what he knows I want, what it is I am seeping into the air through my charm. He can feel my own resistance in wanting his lips on mine. On accepting what I want instinctively in this moment.

I lower my gaze for a moment, just to his lips, his face is so close to mine we are sharing breath, again. This time the crew hears a command, I hear a request when the Captain speaks again. “You want to kiss me? So do it.” I stutter, “I… I…”

“Need to stop resisting.” His expression softened. But the hand behind my neck drew me a fraction closer, just a small amount. I can feel the temptation; the charm he is exuding. It’s intoxicating, he is testing me, not backing down but not making that last move. “Do it” he whispers, his breath and mine spinning between us. Part of me wants to defy him, to pull away and break the charm; not to play this game of power in front of his men. It is not the game the same game that we are interpreting, this is a game of my own inhibitions and the Captain is testing them.

I let go of my resistance, the practicality of it, the practically of being in control of myself for a few moments. I lean that small distance and let our lips meet.

My breath catches in my throat, the tension in my body lessons as he kisses back. His hand abandons being behind my elbow and pins me in the small of my back drawing my body to his. Where our arms cross and touch, where our bodies meet in that contact between us, the heat is less of a humidity issue and more of a sparking issue.

His lips leave mine, the air slows between us for that second before I pull his lips back to mine, this time my hand is wrapped around the back of his neck while I’ve pulled him closer to me. Snaking my fingers into his hair and holding him closer. This time when he kisses me the air seems hotter and balmier, the air is fire inside my lungs. This time I pull away, a fraction, just a little. He is hungry for more and his lips meet mine, chasing me as I lean back a tiny bit, trying to add a little distance between our bodies.

He pauses and reads me, this is enough, right now this is my limit.

He is warm with his smile now. Still hungry, but now with a hint of affection.

Then I feel that familiar lurch and I am pulled back from this world.

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