It was interesting listening to them joking and having one another on, and I noted that Max bore the brunt of much of their humour and ribbing. And with some pleasure, I noticed they treated him as more of an irritation than a friend.
I learned that Max lived next door to Aaron until Aaron left for University. Aaron was six years older, and they’d never hung out together that much. Ryker and Aaron, however, had met at secondary school, and when Ryker’s parents were killed, he had moved in with Aaron for a year before they went flatting together. They told a story about setting Max up to blow up a teacher’s letterbox one Guy Fawkes. So I knew Max had hung around with them when he was younger, but it sounded like he had not seen much of either of them for the last eight years.
When I finished my second beer, I felt a little tipsy and was busting to go to the toilet. I whispered into Ryker’s ear that I needed to go.
He pointed at the transom and said, “You know where to go. The others won’t watch, but I will, seeing as you watched me.”
Then seeing the panic that crossed my face, he laughed. “Aaron, you had better show Veronique how to use the head. She’s a bit nervous about dropping her shorts before us.”
They all thought this was very funny. But Aaron quickly hopped up and guided me down below. At the toilet, called a ‘head’ – god knows why – Aaron showed me the valve that needed opening to get rid of the business and the other valve that needed to be opened so I could pump it out.
I squeezed past Aaron and tried to open the bottom valve; it would not budge. Aaron placed a hand on my hip, and his other hand brushed my breast as he leaned to help. A surge of arousal flooded my body; I blushed red, sure that he could sense my excitement at his touch.
“You don’t try to open it with your wrist. Instead, keep this arm straight and use the weight of your body.”
He pressed my arm down on the valve; it moved easily now I had the correct technique. He made me repeat the whole procedure before he was satisfied enough to leave me alone. I sat on the head, feeling very hot and flushed, my mind going overboard with thoughts of his bending me over and taking me hard. What the hell was happening to me; these thoughts were very uncomfortable. It must be the sea air; that seemed to get the blame for many things.
When I stepped back on deck, I nodded to Ryker. “I understand why you guys pee off the end of the boat now. It is a bit of a hassle.”
“As I said, by the end of the trip, you will not give a toss about us and will happily go off the back as well,” he replied, laughing. “And we will actually not look. We will be gentlemen and give you your privacy.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, albeit a little less sure now.
At about 2:00 pm, we slowed around Channel Island, and Ryker started the motor. He pointed to Great Barrier Island, only an hour away in this breeze, he estimated. I watched as Aaron ordered Max around, getting out the fishing rods and setting them up for trawling.
We did two circuits off the island and caught two kahawai, which they told me were not that great to eat when fried, etc. But when you smoked them, they were very tasty.
They then changed the lures to longer silver ones while Ryker took the yacht out a little and let it drift. Aaron gave me a rod and instructed me to let the lure sink until it touched the bottom, then had me wind it up slowly.
Suddenly, the rod was almost whipped out of my hand. Aaron grabbed my hand holding the rod, then ordered me to wind like hell. There was nothing there, but he said to keep winding. Then I saw a huge fish following the lure up to the boat. It was so exhilarating, such a beautiful fish. He got me to drop the lure to the bottom again.
“This time, when it hits, jerk the rod high in the air and wind like hell. The fish are kingies and will chase your lure all day,” he told me. “The trick is to hook one.”
Max was hooting and hollering; he had one hooked. But halfway up, it jerked free and took the lure with it. Then another hit, I jerked the rod up as Aaron had shown me, and it felt like I had a truck attached to the line. The line screamed out. Ryker shouted at me to wind on more brake and not to let it get in the rocks. Max was yelling for me not to lose the bloody thing. Aaron realised I had no idea what the brake was and leaned in and wound something on the front of the winder thingy.
Pandemonium. It went under the boat, everyone yelling different instructions. Aaron whispered in my ear, “Don’t listen to them. Just keep winding. If you get tired, hand the line to me, and I will bring it in. I think you have a real whopper there.”
That was like a red rag to a bull. No way was I going to give in. It took at least fifteen minutes to get it up to the boat. I was amazed the rod didn’t break. The tip bent almost straight into the water at times. Once I finally got it alongside, they gaffed it and hauled it aboard.
“Bloody beauty!” yelled Ryker, “Good girl, we’ll keep you on.”
My chest almost burst; I was so proud. It was well over a meter long.
“Has to be a thirty-pounder at least. You did bloody great,” gloated Aaron. Then he proceeded to give Max shit about his girlfriend out-fishing him. Minutes later, Aaron also caught one, and I was secretly proud to see it was smaller than mine.
Gear stowed and fish in the bin, and we set sail again. I was offered another beer but quickly declined, wanting to avoid getting sozzled and falling overboard and not too keen on tackling the ‘head’ more often than I needed to.
An hour and a half later, about 5:00 pm, we pulled into Tryphena Harbour on Great Barrier Island. Ryker asked me to take the helm and keep the yacht pointed into the wind while they set the anchor. Then the guys all got busy, Max tying a blue and white flag to one of the runners and helping the other two bring dive gear up on deck.
When I queried the flag, I was informed it was to tell other boats to keep clear of us, as divers were in the water. I was learning more by the minute.
Soon it was just Max and me on the boat, and as Ryker and Aaron disappeared under the water to catch some scallops, Max and I talked. He didn’t know the people we would have dinner with. I learned more about the other guys and how he met Aaron when he went home to see his mom the previous week. He said he had been offered a place on this trip and had asked if he could bring me. He was full of bravado and bragging to me about the guys now that they were underwater.
It only seemed like ten minutes, and the guys were back, yelling for Max to reach over and grab their catch bags. They had forty scallops between them, evidently, as many as they could take.
Then they cleaned up and launched the rubber ducky to get us and our gear ashore. A tall, bronzed hunk of a guy was waiting for us in a Department of Conservation van when we reached the beach. He was introduced to me as Tony. It took two trips to get us and the seafood ashore, and then we all piled into Tony’s van and set out on a bumpy, rough gravel road to his home.
His house was around to the left from where we had come ashore. It was reasonably new, perched above Tryphena, with a great view over the whole bay.
When Tony pulled to a stop, an attractive woman of around twenty-eight walked out, hugged Aaron, and shook hands with Max. She was introduced to me as Valerie, Tony’s wife. She enveloped me in a huge hug, which had my head pressed into her ample cleavage, as she was a good six inches taller than I was.
Last of all, Valerie moved over to Ryker. She didn’t just peck him on the cheek but threw her arms around him and openly kissed him passionately. I was more than a little shocked to see Ryker respond just as passionately and grab her butt cheeks, lifting her off the ground. I snapped my head around to look at Tony but found him getting the fish, etc., from the van. He had to have seen them embrace and fondle but seemed totally unfazed by Ryker’s actions.
And then I was even more confused when a seven-year-old boy ran out from the house, calling excitedly, “Dad, Dad, what have you brought me?” and wrapped his arms around Ryker.
Over the evening, I learned that Valerie had been Ryker’s first girlfriend; they had known one another most of their life and had been an item for about three years after high school. She had gotten pregnant, but they had not married, and a couple of years later, she and Tony married. I wanted to ask questions and understand more but sat quietly, not wanting to appear nosey.
Once inside the house, Valerie dropped a twenty-month-old girl in my arms; it was her and Tony’s daughter. She was a real cutie, not fazed in the slightest about being plopped into a stranger’s arms. She reached out and grabbed a handful of hair, then tried to suck on my nose.
Ryker stood nearby watching me and called out, “Just like her mother, trying to suck on everything that sticks out.”
Valerie replied, “You never complained, you bastard!” Which had everyone laughing and none louder than Tony.
I was amazed that Ryker and Valerie did not hide their past or passion for each other and that Tony was perfectly okay with it. I was to find out that the three of them had grown up very close friends.
This trip certainly opened my eyes to how sheltered my upbringing had been. Wait till I get home and tell my girlfriends; they’ll never believe half of what I have to say about my first day on a yacht.
Ryker and Valerie took over the kitchen while I played with the baby. And soon, some pretty appetising smells were filling the house. Tony opened a bottle of wine and poured us all a glass. Max declined the wine, though, saying he didn’t like it and would stick to beer.
Ryker had brought them all presents: a dozen bottles of wine for Tony, perfume and oils for Valerie, and a model yacht for his boy Nicholas to build. They also showed us much appreciation for the kingies, scallops and kahawai we had delivered. I noticed Tony had disappeared, and when I asked where he had gone, Aaron took me outside to watch him smoking the kahawai. They were going to keep one and the other he was smoking for us to take with us the next day.
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