rapier he carried from his sash and spent several moments cleaning both before returning the items to their velvet-lined cases under the false bottom of the linen closet. The tools of his trade couldn’t be neglected.
Piece by piece he peeled off his soiled clothes and placed them in a bag to be dealt with later. He sank into the scented water. Oh yeah, that felt good. Sometimes on his forays he returned feeling like he’d never be clean again. Body stench didn’t bother his men, but for him lack of sanitation was the worst part of a life spent at sea. The warm water soothed his tired muscles while he nibbled at the treats and sipped his tea, the likes of which could only be found on the finest plantations of the Caribbean in the time when the Naughty Maid had terrorized its crystal blue waters. So many little things he’d taken for granted, until spending weeks in the past had opened his eyes.
When the bath began to cool he lathered himself with scented soap that his men wouldn’t dare to touch, afraid of anything that might be remotely considered feminine—not that the women of his acquaintance were much better. Ian laughed. If only they knew who they followed every time they boarded the Maid. His lifestyle was a hanging offense in their world, but thankfully, not in his, though attitudes here in Jamaica hadn’t yet caught up to some other countries.
The statue he sought, so old, depicted two male lovers, as did much of the pottery he’d claimed for his prize. How strange that all these centuries after their creation, the world had regressed in its thinking. If ancient Incas accepted same-sex couples, even celebrated them in their art, why couldn’t the modern world be so accepting? And damn, how they’d worshipped penises! Penis medicine jar, penis earrings. Forget gay bars. Want to see dick? Get thee to a museum.
And every addition to a historical display presented new evidence of other cultures’ acceptance and tolerance of diversity. Ian may not wave a rainbow flag, but in his own scholarly way, he fought the good fight for equality whenever the right artifact crossed his path. Oh, he’d saved all manner of art, from many religions, but nothing beat the expression on the faces of a bunch of stuffy old professors when he handed them a foot-long, 2,000 year old phallus.
He loosened his braid and shook out his hair, frowning at the snarls that caught in his fingers. That wouldn’t do. It took three washings and much work with a comb before his locks were clean and tangle free, but his lover was quite particular about his hair, and as he’d been gone longer than usual this trip, a certain amount of appeasing wouldn’t hurt.
His cock rose at the thought of David, somewhere in the house, waiting.
Cup drained and body finally clean, Ian stood and dried himself with a soft cotton towel and turned his attention back to his hair. After working the moisture out as best he could with the towel, he combed the mass so that each strand fell in soft, auburn waves down his back as it dried. Next, he combed his beard and moustache. He couldn’t spare the time to shave them now, but not a louse or a flea to be found.
Finally, with a happy sigh, he properly cleaned his teeth for the first time in weeks, replacing the bitter, lingering taste of stale ale with fresh mint. He’d not get a proper greeting without that detail seen to.
As presentable as he had time and energy to be, he padded quietly into the bedroom. A full moon shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the floor and furniture, and making the white comforter and mosquito netting seem to glow. Ah, but it was good to be back.
If only he could preserve moments in time like he did ancient relics.
The French doors stood open, admitting ocean breezes scented by the passionflowers, blue mahoe, and jasmine hanging heavily over the balcony, and the brilliant moon reflected off the dark waters of the Caribbean: the most beautiful sight in the world. How he’d miss his time at sea, but circumstances beyond his control meant his days of piracy were coming to an end. History could not be changed no matter how much he wanted to. The Maid was about to make her last fateful voyage, and Captain Lewis must disappear without a trace.
“If you have so much as one