Chapter Four Oysters in the Sea
~ Casey ~
I can’t believe it’s our last night already!
With a delicate flick of her wrist, Casey put the last pearl-topped hairpin into place to secure her elaborate up-do. She sat back and allowed herself a moment of self-admiration in the mirror. After nearly three weeks in the Mediterranean sun, her skin had assumed a gentle, glowing tan. This was most unusual as her fair complexion was normally given to burning and flaking, but she thought it suited her. And, if she said so herself, her green eyes sparkled greener than ever, and there were natural highlights in her hair that gave it texture and finesse.
She picked up her necklace and secured it around her neck. A quick lashing of mascara completed her look, and she was finally satisfied. She hoped she would blow Alex away. They would be leaving the yacht in the morning, but tonight, they were booked into an exclusive seafood restaurant in St Tropez, right where their journey had started on their wedding day. They were anchored outside the harbour this time, and a little launch was standing by to take them to shore. This was going to be the rousing finale to an extraordinary cruise — hopefully rousing in every way. Casey frowned at her reflection.
They had really had the most incredible honeymoon. They had swum with dolphins, seen the sights, and eaten the most fabulous paella in a tiny restaurant in old town Barcelona. They had taken an island walk around Mallorca and gone diving in the open sea. They had explored Palermo, Rome, and Monaco. They had eaten more exquisite food and drunk more fabulous wine than she had ever dared dream. They had crammed enjoyment into every minute, every second of this cruise. They had done absolutely everything a newly married couple could ever hope to do, and more. Except for one thing.
They hadn’t made love. Casey frowned more deeply but made an effort to fix a smile on her face instead. Showing her concern simply wouldn’t do. By some kind of unspoken agreement, she and Alex were living in a state of denial. The fact that sex wasn’t happening was not a concern. They were simply too busy during the day and too exhausted at night from all the fresh air, activity, food, and wine. It was no wonder they couldn’t get romantic in any kind of physical sense, and nothing to worry about.
Yeah, right.
Casey rearranged the bottles and pots of makeup on her dressing table to distract herself. Alex was up on deck but would be coming back any second now and off they would go. Out one last time. And one last time the hope of ‘having sex later’ would be colouring their every move. She sighed.
For the first week of the cruise they had tried everything they could think of pretty much morning, noon, and night. They had got terribly excited. They had talked dirty to each other until they were practically frothing at the mouth, then dashed off to their cabin, ripped off their clothes (if they were wearing any to begin with), and got down to it. And the very second they had made physical contact, everything evaporated. Everything. Every single time. Neither of them could go through with it. Something had killed their sexual appetite.
In fact, it was almost like they had been cursed. Damn Liza for putting that idea into her head. Casey had even done an internet search on ‘honeymoon sex curse’ in a quiet moment, but she had drawn a blank and laughed at herself. What a ridiculous notion.
Anyway. There it was. They hadn’t made love as a married couple yet, not once. They nearly had, but not completely.
The last time they had tried, a few days ago, they had laid off the booze, rested most of the day, eaten in moderation, and pulled out all the stops in their mutual repertoire. They had snuggled in bed and gone through the motions, and for a few blissful moments, Casey had been convinced they would have a breakthrough.
‘Oh my God,’ Alex had whispered into her ear. ‘This is so good. I swear the earth is moving.’
Casey had felt the same way. Great waves of excitement had rocked her body, his body, their bed, until she thought she would expire with passion. Her vision had dimmed and flared, and fireworks went off behind her closed eyelids. It had been quite extraordinary, and they had come close, so close, so very close.
Until they both started feeling very poorly indeed. For what Casey had thought were waves of excitement were, quite literally, waves. Huge, enormous, storm waves, in fact. The yacht had been caught in a sudden squall. Casey and Alex had spent the rest of the evening panting heavily for all the wrong reasons while trying their hardest to keep the nausea down.
At least that time they had an excuse, an external reason for the abrupt ending of their sexual endeavours, and the burden of failure lay not with them. Casey had breathed a big sigh of relief, and she suspected Alex had done the same. They hadn’t tried since.
But tonight, expectation was in the air again, and Casey wasn’t sure whether to be excited or terrified.
‘Wow! Casey, you look amazing.’
Alex interrupted her train of thought, and she snapped back as if from a trance. She touched a hand to her up-do and smiled.
‘Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’
That was the understatement of the year. Alex looked simply edible in his dinner jacket, white shirt, and ruby-red tie. Even in full black-tie attire, he was every inch the rock star, and Casey could well imagine the day when he would collect the first of many Brit awards or Grammys for Blue Heart.
Alex grinned. ‘Let’s go and celebrate the end of our honeymoon in style.’ He gave a bow and held out a hand to Casey.
Casey smiled back and resolved to banish her uncertainty and worry. It wouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. They had their whole lives ahead of them. There was plenty of time, and anyway, sex wasn’t everything.
* * *
~ Alex ~
Sex isn’t everything. Sex isn’t everything. Sex isn’t everything.
Alex crossed his legs and tried to ignore the arousal that was sending his heart rate into the stratosphere. He couldn’t be this horny — not here, not now. They were ensconced at a little table in a fancy and very expensive restaurant by the waterside in St Tropez, having just finished the most delicious main course. And Casey had never looked more alluring, more gorgeous, more inviting than this moment. Three weeks of holiday had done her the world of good, and she was positively glowing. He really wanted to ravish her there and then. It had been too long since they had made love — not for want of trying, though — and he felt he would go crazy if he had to wait for later.
With sudden determination, he rose to his feet and swiped the dinnerware off the tablecloth in one smooth motion. He took the candlesticks, all three of them complete with burning candles, and placed them on the table next to theirs, ignoring the stunned looks on the faces of the party of four tucking into their bouillabaisse. Casey giggled, and the sound amplified his arousal.
‘Come here, wench,’ he taunted, and held out a hand to Casey. Casey rose and took his hand across the table.
‘What now?’ she asked, mischief glinting in her eyes.
‘Sit on the table. That’s it. Good. Now up with those legs.’ Alex used his bossy lord-of-the-manor voice, the one he reserved for role-playing in the bedroom, and Casey immediately assumed a role of her own, the genteel ingénue.
‘Why, I don’t know what you’re doing, kind sir, but you’ve certainly got me confused with someone else.’ She simpered and winked.
Alex pretended to ignore her. ‘Spread them.’
Casey did as instructed, and Alex suppressed a gasp when he saw she wasn’t wearing any knickers. Bless her. She was obviously as needy as he was. He positioned himself between her legs and unzipped his trousers. He was hot and hard and instantly sprang forth to escape from his fabric prison.
‘My, that’s a mighty big weapon you’ve got there.’ Casey switched to Bond-girl mode. ‘Will you show me how you use it?’
‘With pleasure . . .’
‘Merci, monsieur. ?a va.’
The unfamiliar male voice cut through Alex’s fantasy like a knife. Alex required several seconds to reacquaint himself with reality. A waiter was beating a hasty backwards retreat from their table, bowing all the while, and Casey was shaking violently behind the napkin she was stuffing into her mouth.
Feeling dizzy, disorientated, and somewhat disappointed, Alex subtly readjusted his trousers and begged Casey for clarification.
‘What happened? What did he want?’
‘He was asking whether we’re still hungry, and whether we’d like to see the menu again.’ Imitating the waiter’s voice, Casey intoned, ‘“Avez-vous encore faim, M’sieur, Dame?”’
Alex shook his head, still confused. ‘And? What’s so funny about that?’
‘You said . . .’ Casey snorted. ‘You said . . .’
‘Go on, woman, spit it out. What did I say?’
‘You said you haven’t had woman yet, or something like that.’
‘I what?’
‘You said,’ Casey repeated carefully in between gulps of laughter, ‘“Je n’ai pas encore femme.”’
Alex shook his head. ‘Never.’
‘You did. Where were you? Mentally, I mean?’ Casey was hiccupping now. ‘You gave the poor man the fright of his life. He looked at you like you were going to take me on the table, right here.’
Alex grinned and confessed. ‘I was having a rather vivid vision of doing precisely that. But I swear I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was trying to say, “I’m not that hungry any more”.’
‘I figured. Damn those nasals.’
‘What’s my nose got to do with it?’
‘Not nose. Nasals. Sounds. The sounds that make the difference between “faim” and “femme”. They’re a killer.’ Casey laughed some more.
‘That’ll teach me not to try.’ Alex felt stupid for a moment, but then he saw the funny side.
‘I haven’t had woman yet,’ he gulped. ‘Gosh, what must he be thinking?’
As if on cue, the waiter reappeared. He set down a large plate of fresh oysters on the table and smiled widely.
‘On the ’ouse. For the ’oneymooners.’ He turned and spoke directly to Alex. ‘So you can ’ave woman tonight.’ He placed air quotation marks around ‘’ave’. Alex gaped at him open-mouthed while Casey snorted into her napkin once more.
Alex felt heat rising from the tips of his toes right up his body and into his head. His ears burned with embarrassment. It took him several seconds before he could speak.
‘Did he . . . Did he think . . . He didn’t think I was asking for an aphrodisiac, did he?’
Casey lifted her shoulders. She reached across the table to squeeze his hand. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Maybe you’ve inadvertently hit on the secret phrase to get free oysters in this place.’
Alex was still in shock. ‘But this is so . . . it’s so . . . it’s rude!’
‘Shh,’ Casey admonished him. ‘Now you’re being rude.’ She gave his hand a final stroke before she released her grip and sat back. Tentatively, she poked at one of the oysters with an index finger. The slimy centre of the mollusc quivered at her touch, and Casey yelped softly. ‘Eurgh! How can people eat these?’
Alex cleared his throat. It was time to reclaim his suave gentleman-of-the-world act, and to heck with what the waiter thought. He had never eaten oysters before, but he had seen it done in the movies, and they were supposed to stimulate sexual activity. Perhaps this was exactly what was needed. He eyed the slippery creatures in what he hoped was a knowledgeable manner and refused to think about whether they were alive or dead. He had a feeling they were raw, but that didn’t really bear too much contemplation.
‘What you do is this,’ he began confidently. ‘First, you make sure the oyster is fully detached from his shell.’ He picked up one of the oysters and bravely jiggled the meat with a tiny fork.
‘See, like so.’ He angled the shell such that Casey could see. The look of horrified admiration on her face spurred him on. ‘You could add lemon juice or some other condiment.’ Alex pointed to the various accoutrements in the centre of the plate before continuing. ‘But purists prefer them au naturel.’
There. The moment of truth. Now he actually had to eat one. He swallowed hard to suppress the nausea rising in his throat. Mind over matter, Alex.
‘Then,’ he continued quickly in case he lost his courage, ‘you use the wider end of the shell, and you slurp. Like so.’ Alex put the shell to his mouth and tipped back his head. The oyster slid into his mouth, and instinctively he chewed on it a couple of times. It was firm and gooey all at the same time. To his great surprise, it was a pleasant experience. An explosion of taste assaulted his senses; there was the sweetness of melon, the briny tang of the sea, and a hint of butter. He chewed once more and swallowed.
‘Wow! That was good.’ He took a deep breath and swallowed some more. Casey regarded him with her mouth wide open.
‘Here, try one.’ Alex prepared another oyster and proffered the shell.
‘Really?’
‘Really. Trust me. They’re delicious.’ Alex grinned. Casey was still doubtful.
‘I didn’t know you were the expert on oysters. In fact, I didn’t think you’d ever eaten any.’
Alex shrugged. ‘I hadn’t. But, hey, who knows . . . If it helps . . .’ he winked at Casey ‘. . . then it’s worth a shot, don’t you think? Besides, they really are delicious.’ He forced the proffered oyster into Casey’s hand, then took another one from the plate and slurped greedily. ‘Yum!’
‘Okay,’ Casey said uncertainly. ‘If you say so. Here goes . . .’
She put the shell to her mouth, tipped back her head, and slurped. She chewed a couple of times, and her face registered a range of emotions. A quiver of her lips suggested revulsion to begin with, but quickly her features softened, her eyes closed, and a tentative smile blossomed as she finally swallowed.
‘And?’ Alex prompted when Casey still hadn’t opened her eyes or commented on the experience after a small eternity. ‘How was it for you?’
At length, Casey responded. ‘It was all right.’
‘Only all right?’
‘Only all right. It’s a bit too salty for me. It’s like I imagine a piece of rock covered in seaweed would taste.’
‘Interesting comparison.’ Alex grinned. ‘Are you quite sure you don’t want to try another?’
Casey nodded. ‘All right then, one more. But the rest is all yours.’
Alex didn’t need an invitation. At the same time, he didn’t want to leave Casey practically eating nothing while he indulged, so he beckoned the waiter and ordered a basket of bread and some hot spicy prawns for Casey, alongside another bottle of champagne.
‘What luxury.’ Casey sighed contentedly as they quaffed the bubbles and polished off the food. ‘I’ll have to diet when we get back.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s tomorrow,’ Alex replied drily. ‘Tonight, we’re celebrating our marriage, in every sense of the word. And that’s a promise.’ He nudged his foot against Casey’s thigh under the table, and she chuckled.
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘Please do.’ Alex rolled his shoulders. He felt great. He felt confident. He was horny beyond belief. Those oysters were working miracles. This was going to be a successful night.
‘It’ll be the most spectacular ending to our honeymoon,’ he vowed.
Casey inclined her head, a familiar gleam in her eye. ‘I look forward to it. What are we waiting for?’
* * *
~ Casey ~
The engine of their little motor launch purred softly, but not loud enough to drown out the gentler sound of the waves. Casey snuggled into Alex’s arms and dangled her right hand over the side of the boat so that her fingertips caressed the surface of the water. She wished she could hold on to this moment forever.
Stars glinted in the clear sky above them, and she could see the fairy lights aboard their yacht twinkling a merry welcome for the last time. She was sad that their honeymoon was coming to an end.
‘Well,’ she mused quietly, ‘if I already feel nostalgic for a moment I’m still living, we must be having a really good time.’ She sighed contentedly and leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. Gently but deliberately, she took her hand out of the water and placed it on Alex’s crotch. A low moan greeted her action.
‘Oh, Casey.’ Alex’s voice was a low, hoarse rasp. He was seriously horny. Casey felt herself grow moist in anticipation. The yacht loomed larger; only a few more minutes, and they would reach their cabin.
Alex half turned to lean in for a kiss. His lips touched hers, and she could feel the insistent flick of his tongue against her teeth. She responded eagerly, removing her hand from his crotch to bury both hands deeply in his hair, pulling him close and closer still. This was good. Oh, this was good!
Casey lost all sense of time and space as their kiss seemed to stretch to an eternity. Eventually, Alex very briefly drew back for breath. He smiled at her with that dreamy look in his eyes and dipped his head towards her again. Lips connecting with lips once more, tongue dancing with tongues and . . .
Casey gulped. Her head swam, but not with pleasure. She swallowed and swallowed harder. Bile rose in her throat and her gag reflex threatened to engage. She tried to pull back, but Alex mistook her struggle for playful resistance and only held her more tightly.
Casey wriggled and squirmed, and Alex half rolled on top of her. Casey couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and she pummelled her husband hard with her hands in an effort to make him stop. Finally, he got the message.
‘Casey, what’s—’
‘Euuurrgh!’
Casey barely managed to hang her head over the side of the boat before heaving copiously, returning her entire dinner and splashing it over the sea. The taste of regurgitated oysters caught at the back of her throat and made her gag all over again. She retched some more.
From far, far away, she heard the captain of the launch talking to Alex.
‘Everything all right, sir? Shall I keep going, or do you want me to turn back to the mainland?’
‘Keep going, please,’ Alex replied softly.
Casey sat up unsteadily and wiped her mouth. Thank goodness. The worst was over. Any minute now, they’d be at the yacht.
‘Honey, are you okay?’ Alex brushed the hair out of her face and patted her back. ‘Was it the oysters? I’m so sorry, that’s my fault.’
‘It’s okay,’ Casey managed. She wanted to say more but was caught short again. ‘Euuuurgh!’
This time, as she leaned over the side, Alex held back her hair and stroked her back, making soothing noises all the while. He really was a man to have about in a crisis, bless him.
But oh, oh! This wasn’t what she’d envisaged for the night. A spectacular ending, she thought semi-coherently between spasms. But not what we expected.
‘Oysters?’ she heard the boatman’s voice pipe up again from the front of the launch.
‘Yes,’ Alex replied wearily. ‘We had some oysters.’
The driver winced sympathetically. ‘First time, eh? With too much alco’ol, per’aps?’
‘Yes, on both counts,’ Alex confirmed.
‘Ah, oui. Better in the morning,’ the driver offered. ‘Et voilà. And ’ere we are.’ He moored the launch against the yacht and deftly jumped aboard.
Casey was woozy with nausea, exhaustion and alcohol. Alex scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the steep steps to the yacht. She wasn’t entirely sure how he managed, but she clung onto him for dear life, resting her head against his shoulder, keeping her eyes closed, and breathing deeply through her nose. Don’t spew again. Don’t spew again.
‘I bring you a bucket to the cabin?’ the driver suggested.
‘Yes, I think that would be a good idea,’ Alex replied. ‘Thank you.’
Alex carried her all the way to their cabin.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered once more when she was finally safely tucked up in bed, a large bucket placed by her head.
‘So am I,’ Casey muttered sleepily. ‘I really thought we’d do it tonight.’
Alex smoothed her damp hair away from her forehead. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said. ‘I take full responsibility.’ He snorted. ‘Oysters, right? Not so much aphrodisiac as up-chuck-o-disiac.’
Casey gave a short, sharp laugh. Her stomach roiled in protest, and she gave an involuntary groan. ‘Please don’t crack any more terrible jokes, you’ll start me off again.’
‘Sorry.’ Alex looked contrite. ‘I’m only glad I didn’t make you eat more of the slimy fellows. Here, have a sip of water.’ He proffered a bottle of mineral water. ‘You don’t want to get dehydrated on top of everything else. We’ve got to get home tomorrow.’
Casey obediently sipped at her drink. ‘I really am sorry about all this. This wasn’t the ending to our honeymoon I’d envisaged.’
‘Hey, don’t sweat it.’ Alex grinned. ‘It was a great meal, and we had a lovely time. Tonight, and for the past three weeks. It was a fantastic honeymoon. Never mind the—’ He coughed and swallowed the rest of his sentence. But then he appeared to change his mind and carried on.
‘Never mind the little kinks and hiccups, the total lack of action — we’ll laugh about that when you’re in labour with our first child. In fact,’ he touched a forefinger to Casey’s nose, ‘at that point, you’ll probably wish we’d stuck with the inaction. You’ll see. Now get some rest, sweetheart.’
Casey closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. ‘You really are the best, Alex.’
‘And you’re my star, Casey.’