Harold Lowe has managed to claw his way up the career ladder of the British merchant marines, rising from a ship's boy to a master mariner with one of the world's elite passenger lines. Along the way, he's learned to master not only his craft, but...
Okay, so for this one we're back on Titanic, and Harry does a Very Naughty Thing. M rating. Warning: somewhat disturbing content. For those that don't want to read the icky: skip halfway down the chapter and assume something gross happened. The second half is PG - and contains an interaction that's a long time in coming.
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"I've never done this with an officer before," she said breathlessly.
"And you won't, if you don't keep quiet," Harold rasped, covering her noisy mouth with his again.
The lights of Cherbourg weren't far behind them. Still, he knew that he was running out of time. It was now or never.
He removed his tongue from her throat long enough to give her a measured look. "Well, then?"
In response, she turned around and bent over the work table he had her pressed against, lifting her skirts provocatively.
Grinning, he unbuttoned his trousers and got down to work.
He had been stationed at the first-class gangway, waiting for the Nomadic to discharge its passengers. When they had finally begun boarding Titanic, he had dutifully checked tickets and greeted the toffs politely, with the respect and deference that was expected by the White Star Line. And that's when he saw her. She was crossing the swaying gangway imperiously, almost strutting in her fashionable kimono-like gown, the latest style from Paris - or so he had been told this spring by previous lovers. She had locked eyes with him - and then deliberately, slowly, pretended to trip, arms splayed out and an expression of almost comical mock-terror on her face.
Of course he had rushed to stop her fall... and of course, she was very, very grateful, near-swooning in his arms. Her mother flew over to her side, helping her up... but she only had eyes for him as she righted herself and continued to sashay through the gangway doors.
He wasn't surprised when, a few minutes later, after all the passengers had boarded, she had asked him to escort her to the ship's hospital to be 'checked out'.
When he found out later that she was an actress, he was not surprised by that, either.
She was attractive in a way, if you looked past the snooty expression. Luckily, positioned as she was, he didn't have to see that expression at all.
"I already have a husband, and a lover," she said coyly. "I know what I'm doing."
He grunted in agreement as he pushed up inside her. She did indeed seem to know just how to position her white arse to provide the most pleasurable angle. But he wished she would stop talking. First, he didn't care what she had to say... and second, her brash American accent was beginning to annoy him.
But he was relieved he had found a willing participant in his debauchery, and that he didn't have to wait until New York to satisfy his urges. Shagging a first-class passenger in the knives storeroom on D deck wasn't the smartest move he'd ever made, though - indeed, given White Star's regulations on officer-passenger fraternization, it was an outright transgression, and one that he had adamantly refused to indulge in previously.
