Live Long and Prosper          by: Brandy Dewinter             © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 4 - "Reduced Skin Friction"

When Lainey came on deck in the morning, it was to find us anchored in the lee of a smallish island. Unfortunately, it looked too small to have any fresh water, unless there was a hidden spring or something.

"Oh, where are we?" she asked immediately.

"A couple of hundred miles south of Taiohae, in the Marquises group," I explained.

"Good. Maybe we should head up there and see a doctor."

Now it was my turn to be worried about her. "Are you okay?"

"Sure," she said easily. "It’s you I’m worried about."

"I feel fine."

"You look good, too. But there is that minor matter of all your hair falling out."

"Not all my hair," I protested, pulling at a sleek lock that still streamed over my shoulders.

"No, not all of it," she agreed, looking more closely at it.

She had a funny look in her eyes for a moment, but she didn’t say anything as she went below to make breakfast. When she came back, she noticed I was idly scratching at my chest.

"Still itch?"

"Yeah, but it’s not too bad," I said, stopping. For some reason, it made me feel guilty. I mean, considering just where I was scratching and all. Definitely not a thing to do in polite company.

She just nodded again, a thoughtful frown on her face. I was about to prod her for her thoughts, when she revealed at least some of them.

Sitting by me, Lainey ran her hand over my smooth arm. "It’s just strange. I mean, except for all your hair falling out, you look fine. You’re full of energy. You tell me you don’t ache as much as you often do. The itching, if it’s the same as what I feel, is minor and not getting any worse. Sometimes I feel like I’m worrying about nothing, and other times, well, just why did your hair fall out?"

"I don’t know, of course," I mused. "Look, how about this? We’ll spend the day here. We can rest up a little and see what happens. If either of us shows any other symptoms, we can sail for Taiohae and be there in another day or so. But we’ll at least know that any problems are real and not something that will pass in a couple of days."

My beautiful blonde nodded her agreement and stretched, looking around. "Are you still feeling all energetic?"

At first I thought it was an invitation for a particularly interesting dalliance, but when I quickly nodded I was as quickly dissuaded.

"Then let’s go for a swim. A long one, say over to that far point of the beach and back."

"Um, sure," I said, though I knew she picked up on my disappointment.

"Look, dear, we might just have a little fun later, too," she promised. Well, almost a promise. "But I feel that sort of nervous energy too and just need a way to work it off."

"Oh, that reminds me," she said abruptly, standing and heading below. Her call floated up through the open hatch, "I thought of something last night."

When she came back on deck, she had this silly pair of racing swim trunks she had picked up for me somewhere. I felt they were stupid, barely legal and shouldn’t have been. But, well, she looked just great in a skimpy bathing suit and I had bought her one that was even worse. Or better, as the case may be. Anyway, she had found one for me that was the same color as the one I had found for her, a bright royal blue. Then she had made me promise to wear the thing if we were reasonably private, offering as inducement that she would wear her skimpy suit as well - topless. If she felt she could go topless, then I figured no one would be calling the cops on me even if I wore that thing.

As she so often does, her sense of humor touched mine and we were laughing together even as I stood to change into that tiny scrap of electric blue spandex. Believe me, all the jokes about a fat man in a Speedo are right, and I know I looked terrible. But Lainey didn’t. When she put on her own suit, the matching bright blue caught the color of her eyes and put the sky itself to shame for dullness.

Her laughter hung in the air behind her as she made a fast dive into the little cove that sheltered us. We were about 50 yards off the beach, tied with two good anchors, and there wasn’t any real reason I couldn’t follow after her. Other than the fact I didn’t have a chance of catching her in the water, of course.

Though actually, this time I almost did. Have a chance that is. It seemed the bottom to her suit hadn’t made the transition to the water as gracefully as she did. When I came up from my own dive, I found her struggling to get it back on her hips. My own suit had barely slipped and I had it in place in time to build a little bit of a lead on her. It didn’t last, but when we did reach the little point of sand, not quite two hundred yards from the boat, we were at least close enough that I could catch her before she started back.

"I’ll have to wear this suit more often, if it’ll make you wear that one," I said, panting for breath. "It gives me a much-needed advantage."

"Dream on, buster," she said, laughing herself. "I should smack you anyway, for getting me one that was too large. How big of a whale do you think I am, anyway?"

"Big? You? Don’t be silly. I deliberately bought that suit a size smaller than you told me you wear."

I was going to have to remember that as a handy compliment for the future. She had a terrific smile when she said, "Well, it’s almost too large for my hips. So there."

"Good for you. I guess this trip agrees with you."

"Maybe it’s just the company," she said, winking. And then she took off for the boat again.

Actually, that should have been a problem. I swim fairly well, but a couple of hundred yards of maximum effort usually does me in for a while. This time, though, I already had my breath back and was swimming after her at my not-so-great maximum speed. She made it to the boat first, of course, but not by as much of a margin as I had frankly expected. When I caught her ankle just as she rose on the ladder, she squealed in surprise.

"Gotcha!" I yelled, laughing.

"I guess so," she said, smiling once her mind caught up with her surprise. As I rose from the water she looked at me and said, "Must be the swim trunks. They look good on you."

"They look obscene on me," I said, snorting. "But I guess I have a little less skin friction now that my body is smoother."

"Lots smoother," she said, purring as she snuggled into my arms. "If I’d have known how good you look without that fur, I’d have made you shave a long time ago."

"You’d have tried," I countered.

"Oh, you’d have done it. I’d have found an incentive that would work."

"I’ll just bet," I agreed, then started to fumble with the strings holding her suit together.

This time, she didn’t make any excuses.

I wasn’t really thinking about my symptoms for a while, but I did nonetheless confirm that my itching nipples offered as much opportunity as problem, maybe more. We ended up hugging and kissing, giggling like teenagers as we found a comfortable position on the cockpit seat cushions. Every time Lainey brushed my nipples, I felt a surge that was almost electric, but very, very pleasant. Then she bumped one with her elbow, not deliberately but . .

"Ow!"

"What’s wrong?"

"My damn nipple. It hurts!"

"Oh, I’m sorry."

"So am I. Damn. It felt like you hit me with a baseball bat, but I know you just bumped it."

"Wow, they are sensitive then," Lainey said sympathetically. Then she snickered and made an offer I couldn’t refuse. "How about if I kiss it to make it better?"

"Holy sh . . Wow! That felt good."

"Am I forgiven?" she asked, grinning.

"There’s nothing to . . um . . no. Not at all. I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that."

She did. Lots better. I returned the favor, of course. I’m not sure that I gave as good as I got this time, though. I was pretty distracted. But it seemed to me that her little pleasure buttons didn’t enjoy my ministrations as much as they usually do.

I always try to be careful of her pleasure when we make love, and at least make sure that she’s ready for me - well-lubricated that is. It’s a pretty good sign that she’s ready in more than just mechanical ways, too, usually. So, I, um, checked her fluid level, and realized she just wasn’t quite there yet. Which wasn’t really a problem, more of an opportunity.

We squirmed for a bit into a new configuration and I had a chance to guarantee her moisture level would be adequate. It was surprisingly challenging, though. And the taste was different, more me than her. The strangest thing about it was that she seemed really excited in other ways. Her little nubbin was as swollen and protruding as I have ever, um, seen it. And she certainly seemed excited. After a few minutes, she gave a sort of groan and just launched herself at me, surrounding my shaft with her sheath in one quick, demanding motion. It was great to have her show her arousal by taking charge a bit. I guess that’s as clear a demonstration that I had done my so-pleasant job of getting her ready as I could ever want.

Still, overall our pleasurable interlude was a bit . . . disappointing. I was aroused all right. I felt, as she had said earlier, quite frisky. But I’m afraid even my excited state left a little to be desired. Lainey didn’t say anything, but I didn’t feel that sense of, I don’t know, fullness maybe. I wasn’t taking measurements, but I had the feeling my equipment wasn’t as big as usual. I’m honest enough to admit I’ve never been a giant, but this time seemed even, well, less. And less intense, or maybe less . . . complete? I don’t know what the problem was, but Lainey reached a point where she seemed to just take off, and I felt like I was left behind. At the last second I managed to join her, and it felt good, in a sort of comfortable way, but I almost felt like I wanted something more. I don’t know what.

At least Lainey was satisfied. Afterwards, she almost collapsed right there in the cockpit, barely managing to lay across the cushions before taking a nap. The breeze was nice, soft and cool, and I didn’t blame her, but I didn’t feel like a nap myself. Instead, I got the brush and started running it through my own hair. In part, I was checking to see if it would fall out. But in part I just wanted a bit more . . . sensuality? I suppose.

Lainey rose from her nap an hour later and stretched quite deliciously. Picking up her discarded swim suit, she gave me a saucy wink and disappeared below. In a couple of minutes, I heard the shower. I guess she had decided to draw down on our fresh water reserve instead of pedaling first. If that was the price to be paid for an afternoon of such delights, she was welcome to it.

Since I wasn’t sleepy, I decided I might as well pedal for a while myself. I still felt good, really good, and I decided to take advantage of it. Besides, the breeze was from just the right angle, as we swung at anchor, to lift my hair lightly away from my face, almost like someone was running her fingers through it.

"My, don’t you look happy," Lainey said, surprising me. I hadn’t heard her over the squeak of the seat and the gears.

"Ah, well, yeah, I guess I am."

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really, except the breeze feels so nice. Any particular reason you think I look happy?"

She laughed, and shook her head. "Not really, except, I don’t know, your face looked, um, softer or something. As though you were more relaxed than you usually get. You’re pretty good lookin’ for an old man."

"I know a special exercise that keeps me young, and I have a gorgeous personal trainer."

She giggled like a school girl herself, pleased as always at the thought she was at least aging gracefully. Then she asked, "How about letting me brush your hair now?"

"Let me take my own shower first," I countered, and smiled as I went below.

Fifteen minutes later, when I came back on deck, I was tugging at my shirt and frowning.

"What’s wrong," Lainey asked.

"Well, this is about the softest shirt I have, but it feels sort of rough or tight where my chest itches. Maybe it’s shrunk or something. Or I’ve gained weight."

"Gained weight?" she said, looking at my shorts. "Not at the waist.

If anything, you’ve lost weight lately."

"Hmmm, you’re right," I agreed. "There’s at least an extra inch at the button. But they’re still snug where my fanny is. I must be spending too much time sitting at the helm."

"Maybe," Lainey said, but there was something less than full agreement in her tone.

I shrugged and moved to where she could reach my hair. While she was pulling the brush in long, slow strokes, she said, "My own shorts fit a little funny, too. I thought they shrunk or something, because I had trouble getting them buttoned. I guess whatever weight you lost, I found."

"It doesn’t show," I said. "If anything, you’re looking really lean.

Your legs and arms are clearly showing muscle, not just fat."

"Maybe I’m just a little bloated or something," mused Lainey. "Or maybe all the hauling on lines had finally given me some stomach muscles."

"Or maybe it’s that special form of exercise," I leered politely.

She laughed and tugged at a bit of a tangle in my hair.

"Hey," I complained. "Careful. Remember, I can get even if you get too rough."

"Sorry," she said. "I didn’t think I was pulling that hard. You’ve been letting it loose a little more often lately, and while I like the way it looks when you do that, it does tend to tangle a bit more."

"It sure does. I just, I don’t know, got bored with the same look all the time. Don’t you?"

"Sure. But when I get bored, I just braid it, or put in barrettes or something. I’m sure you’ve noticed."

I laughed and nodded, earning myself another tug. "I could always tell when it was time to find a real port, by how involved your hairdo was getting."

Lainey gave my hair a stronger yank, but she laughed as she said, "Just for that, I think I’ll do something different with YOUR hair."

"Don’t cut it!"

"No way," she promised. "I think I’ll just braid it up for you a bit. Lots of men do that."

A part of me wanted to argue, but the idea of having my hair look different was sort of interesting, so I nodded (which resulted in another tug, but some reflexes just won’t die). It only took her a couple of minutes, and I had a foot or so of thick braid running down my back. It felt strange, sort of tight, and stiff when I turned my head. But I couldn’t wait to see what it looked like.

The first ‘use’ my new hairstyle got was as a leash, though. Lainey stood and said, "Come with me." She pulled my braid as she went below, then held it as she rooted around in her stuff for a rubber band. She couldn’t find one so she got a little bit of dark blue ribbon instead and tied it around the end of my braid.

"There," she said. "That should keep it from coming unraveled."

"A ribbon?" I said, looking at it in the mirror.

"I could have used the pink one, if you prefer?" she offered, grinning.

"No thanks. This will be fine."

"It does look good," she agreed. "Do you want to do mine like that?"

"Sure," I agreed, grabbing the pink ribbon for her. Back on deck, she gave me a quick lesson in hair braiding once I finished the basic brushing for sleekness, and I was soon tying a pretty little bow in her hair.

She looked at the end of her braid, and then at me. "Do you want a bow, too?"

"No thanks. I just thought it would look good on you."

Lainey nodded and announced she was going below to fix supper. While she was busy with that, I spent the time conducting a routine inspection of the Breeze, which turned out to be good news and bad news.

The good news was that my braid stayed out of my way better than the ponytail had. The bad news was that my shorts got really dirty when I was crawling through the bilges.

"Get cleaned up before supper," Lainey ordered, and I was only too happy to comply. I didn’t take another shower, but I did wash up and change my clothes.

"How do those fit?" Lainey asked as we filled our plates.

"About the same," I reported. "If anything, these are looser all over. I may need to wear some with a belt I can tighten. These are going to slip down."

"We may have to get you some new ones. I suppose it’s about time to hit a real port."

We discussed options for our itinerary as we ate. There hadn’t been any other symptoms of whatever had been bothering us, though Lainey still itched a bit all over, and I was still itching on my chest and in my crotch. If my body hair hadn’t fallen out, we wouldn’t really be worried about much of anything. But like a lot of decisions, several minor points added up to enough to warrant a specific course of action. In this case, getting ourselves checked out by a real doctor and maybe getting some new clothes, and the idea of a long shower with real hot water, and a meal with fresh meat all made the decision to go to Taiohae pretty obvious.

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Log of the Twilight Breeze
20 October 2004
Long 140.05 deg. W
Lat 9.60 deg. S

(Anchored in an unnamed cove)

 

Adam seems to be better today, or at least, no worse. The rest of his body hair has fallen out, but the hair on his head is fine. I tugged on it pretty well, even braiding it as a way to see how well it was anchored, and everything seems just as it should.

And the converse issue is that, despite being almost 57 years old, Adam has more energy than a man half his age. He swam harder and longer than I’ve seen him do on this entire voyage, and was still full of energy afterwards. I’m worried that it’s like a lightbulb before it burns out, though - very bright but not sustainable.

I noticed something else, too. Something I haven’t mentioned to him, yet. It may be just the way the sun affects his hair as it grows, but as I was brushing it tonight I swear his roots looked black, not gray. Not even the brown he had when he was younger, but a dark, glossy black. Actually, that makes me worry less in some ways. Those dark roots couldn’t be connected to Tirce’s Island, because there’s almost half an inch of darker hair and in just a couple of days it wouldn’t have grown that far. So I must have missed it for the last few weeks, at least.

I wish I knew what was causing the rest of our symptoms. Nothing in our

reference books makes any sense. I fed his symptoms into the medical

application in our computer, and nothing comes out at all. I even tried combinations where I eliminated one specific symptom and looked for a match with the others. The only thing I got was, well, not reasonable.

I don’t even know if I should be worried at all. Or grateful somehow. Overall, he just seems more energetic, happier, more cheerful. That’s such good news, and if I knew the only downside was the loss of his body hair, then I’d be ecstatic.

But I do know the only downside is not the loss of his body hair. There is at least one other problem. His penis is smaller. It still filled me up quite well, but I know it’s not as big as it was. It was as hard, but definitely smaller. I don’t know what that means, either. That particular tool, according to the medical database, does sometimes reduce in size as men age. I’ve never noticed it before, though, yet it’s quite definite now and it adds another mystery to whatever is going on. I haven’t mentioned anything to Adam, of course. God knows he doesn’t need to worry about his manhood, too.

I’m glad we’re going to see a real doctor. It should only be a couple of days.

End log entry
Elaine Bridger

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(continued in Part 5)

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Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.