to the gray.
Captain Homer's wild eyes had followed Carol's approach with undisguised lubricious delight. Carol recognized the look and her reaction was one of immediate disgust. She started to turn around and go back to the marina headquarters. But she stopped herself, realizing that it was a long walk back and that she was already hot and tired. Captain Homer, apparently sensing her disapproval by the change in her gait, changed his leer to an avuncular smile.
'Miss Dawson, I presume?' the captain said, bowing slightly with fake gallantry. 'Welcome to the Ambrosia. Captain Homer Ashford and his crew at your service. 'Carol reluctantly smiled. This buffoon in the outrageous blue Hawaiian shirt at least did not appear to take himself too seriously. Still slightly wary, she took the proffered Coke from his outstretched hand and followed him along the smaller side jetty beside the boat. The two of them then descended onto the yacht. It was huge.
'We understand from Julianne that you are interested in a charter for this afternoon. We would love to take you out to one of our favorite spots, Dolphin Key.' They were standing in front of the wheelhouse and the covered cabin area as they talked. Captain Homer was clearly already into his sales pitch. From somewhere nearby Carol could hear the clang of metal. It sounded like barbells.
'Dolphin Key is a marvelous isolated island,' Captain Homer continued, 'perfect for swimming and even nude sunbathing, if you like that sort of thing. There's also a sunken wreck from the eighteenth century not more than a couple of miles away if you're interested in doing some diving.' Carol took another drink from her Coke and looked at Homer for an instant. She quickly averted her eyes. He was leering again. His peculiar emphasis on the word 'nude' had somehow changed Carol's mental picture of Dolphin Key from a quiet tropical paradise to a gathering place for debauchery and peeping Toms. Carol recoiled from Captain Homer's light touch as he guided her around the side of the yacht. This man is a creep, she thought. I should have followed my first instincts and turned around.
The clang of metal grew louder as they walked past the entrance to the cabin and approached the front of the luxurious boat. Carol's journalistic curiosity was piqued; the sound seemed so out of place. She hardly paid attention as Captain Homer pointed out all the outstanding features of the yacht. When they finally had a clear view of the front deck of the Ambrosia, Carol saw that the sound had indeed been barbells. A blonde woman with her back toward them was working out with weights on the front deck.
The woman's body was magnificent, even breathtaking. As she strained to finish her repetitive presses, she lifted the barbells high over her head Rivulets of sweat cascaded down the muscles that seemed to descend in ripples from her shoulders. She was wearing a low-cut black leotard, almost backless, whose thin straps did not seem capable of holding up the rest of the outfit. Captain Homer had stopped talking about the boat. Carol noticed that he was standing in rapt admiration, apparently transfixed by the sensual beauty of the sweaty woman in the leotard. This place is weird, Carol thought. Maybe that's why the girl asked me if I knew these people.
The woman put the weights back on the small rack and picked up a towel When she turned around Carol could see that she was in her mid to late thirties, pretty in an athletic sort of way . Her breasts were large and taut and clearly visible in the scant leotard. But it was her eyes that were truly remarkable. They were gray-blue in color and they seemed to look right through you. Carol thought that the woman's first piercing glance was hostile, almost threatening.
'Greta,' said Captain Homer, when she looked at him after her first glance at Carol, 'this is Miss Carol Dawson. She may be our charter for this afternoon.'
Greta did not smile or say anything. She wiped the sweat off her brow, took a couple of deep breaths, and put the towel behind her neck and over her shoulders. She squared herself off to face Carol and Captain Homer. Then with her shoulders back and her hands on her hips, she flexed her chest muscles. With each flexure her abundant breasts seemed to stretch up toward her neck. Throughout this routine her incredibly clear eyes evaluated Carol, checking out