The Boat-unfinished

The boat

         Simone felt the lucent warmth of the sun beating upon her shoulders and down her back as she worked the rag through the tiny creases left by screw holes in the chrome railing. The tips of her fingers were sore from the strain of pushing the rag around the base of the rail, so as not to leave the slightest hint of polish on either the brilliant fiberglass of the hull or the gleaming rail itself. She wore, as she always did when on deck cleaning, a very plain black bikini that was the definition of small. She was, but for the barest coving of black nylon over her nipples and vulva and a thin strap of leather around her neck, nude. The sun had burned itself so deeply into her fair skin that she appeared nearly Latin, despite her dark blond hair and ice-water blue eyes.
         This was her morning ritual, the cleaning of the deck, and the polishing of the “bright” work as the chrome and brass was known. Every detail was given loving attention. The deck would be just as near to perfect as it could possibly be when she was finished. She rose early, just as the sun came up, in order to be able to do this before the hot sun drew sweat from her, soiling the sterile surface. Early, the heat would only slicken her body during the most strenuous scrubbing, leaving her glistening, but not dripping.
         The decks and railing were the most demanding, and were done first, in the cool early hours, the woodwork would follow. As Simone finished the last of the railing, she stood and pulled her long form to its full height, releasing the strain from the hours of hunching. She then opened the small locker outside the cabin door and stowed the polish and its rag, and withdrew a bottle of teak oil and a fragrantly stained rag. The thick odor of the oil gave her a quiet thrill as she remembered some of its past uses, and it was with a quick breath that she poured a small amount onto the rag. With the care of a lover she stroked the wood of the cabin door frame, the door itself, and the large wheel. The Captain’s wheel took the most care. Every joint was attacked with a corner of the rag, pushing oil into both the wood and her straining fingers. Sweat was flowing, and oil had spread itself well up her arms when finally she was finished with the Wheel. The golden wood of the wheel had the shine of pride in the now burning sun as Simone returned the oil and rag to the locker.
         With care due a relic Simone opened the cabin door and let herself into the comforting dimness of the interior. Before stepping from the last step, with only the very tips of her fingers so as not to damage the fabric, she removed her top and bottom, placing them on a hook on the wall. With a natural nudity she strode to the galley and made herself clean, carefully scrubbing the oil and polish from her hands and arms. Once her hands were clean, she went toward the head to begin her daily internal cleaning.
         This was no expansive luxury bath as one might find on shore, but was still roomy by yacht standards. Simone went first to the small cleaning locker near the door, and withdrew a small brush and cleaner and knelt before the toilet. First she sprayed the cleaner on the heavy chrome piping leading to the bowl itself, following each spray with a circular twist of the brush. She moved down, covering the lid and flush handle with the cleaner, feeling the chemical burn in her nostrils as the cleanser began to take effect. The outside of the lid covered, she lifted it, repeating the process. And again on the inside of the bowl, scrubbing every inch to sanitary perfection. Once scrubbed, she retrieved a clean rag from the locker and wiped down every surface. With equal care Simone cleansed every surface in small head, saving the small shower for last.
         Once the shower had been thoroughly scrubbed, Simone turned on the shower and stepped inside. The chill water of the boat washed over her as she began to rinse away the sweat and dirt of her morning duties. That cool water stiffened her nipples, and caused a blood rush to her crotch as she lathered herself with soap and thought of the reason behind her effort and the life that she lived. As her fingers traced over her now sudsy body, searching for the forbidden stubble or a trace of oil, she could not help but linger over the soft folds of her cunt, the tight rigid buttons of her nipples, or the tantalizingly sensitive spot just below her armpit and down her side. Her breath caught as she slid her fingers down her side, a spasm of joy causing her to grasp the rail of the shower to keep upright. Of course, she knew, this was simple torture, she was not permitted release without permission, and though there would be no evidence, she would know, and the guilt would force her to confess. The thought of the punishment that would result from such a confession nearly pushed her over the edge, and she had to pull her hands quickly from her body and brace them against the wall, pulling air deep in, willing herself back from the edge. With an odd mix of frustration and satisfaction Simone stepped from the shower and began carefully drying herself.
         Dry, and thrumming with the delightful agony of her restraint, Simone entered the cabin as naked as she was clean. A soft cloth was withdrawn from the small cleaning box, and she began to polish the wealthy leather of the couch that ran along the hull, pulling a viscous gleam from the supple brown, and shining the dark hardwood outlining the armrests. Her bare hand on the leather felt as though it was stroking a living thing, so often had it been conditioned. Moving from the couch she came to the many brass cleats attached to the dark paneling of the cabin as both decoration and functional restraint points. She polished these with the same attention to detail that she had given to the brass and chrome on deck, drawing a gleam from the ancient castings and a shiver down her spine at the memories of their use.  The cleats shining, and the entire interior as spotless as the exterior, Simone curled herself into the small bed area of the cabin and allowed herself to slip into sleep.
         The snap of the cabin hatch opening drew her from sleep to go and present herself. She stood and left the small room, and with head bowed and eyes upon her toes made her way to the center of the main cabin, and knelt, placed her hands behind her back and lowered her forehead to the floor as she waited for him to inspect the condition of the room and her body.