Written
by Doug Kuhlman
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
Rated NC-17 for Content
Giggling with the exhilaration of their run
past the startled stokers in the boiler room, Jack and Rose pushed through a
thick metal door, which squeaked its protest. The air on the other side was
cool, which felt bitterly cold after the heat of the fires.
Rose rubbed her arms to ward off goose
pimples as they explored the newest thrill of the ship--a simple cargo hold.
Massive netting covered piles of crates, suitcases, and other things being
transported across the mighty Atlantic. The imposing piles of cargo formed
walls and corridors, lending shape to the mammoth hold.
Through a gap between piles, a beautiful, new
Renault caught Jack's eye. He steered Rose toward it, commenting, "Look.
What have we here, huh?" The car was exquisite. It had obviously never
been driven, as even the tires were completely fresh and spotless. The pair
walked up to it jauntily, still flush with the success of their escape and the
stimulation of being together--which made even the most mundane magical.
As they neared the car, Rose cleared her
throat meaningfully. All communication barriers between the two were down, so
he instantly knew exactly what she wanted. Opening the door carefully, he held
out his hand to assist her into the vehicle. She took his proffered hand and
with a curt "Thank you" stepped daintily into the enclosed portion of
the automobile.
He quietly and quickly close the door behind
her and stepped smartly forward to clamber into the front seat. He pretended to
drive the car, while Rose pushed down the glass separating them.
"Honk-honk." The sound of the horn
echoed through the cavernous room. Jack reclined in the luxurious leather of
the new car. Continuing the game they'd started, he asked in a poor imitation
of a British chauffeur. "Where to, miss?"
The return tone was certainly not one of
child-like play. "To the stars." As he looked back at her, trying to
assimilate this response, Rose leaned forward to half-haul his
more-than-willing body into the back seat to join her. He giggled slightly, but
the expression of Rose and his own feelings were not a laughing matter.
As he settled onto the seat beside his love,
their eyes met--only briefly, barely a fraction of a second, but the glance
communicated more than words ever could. No longer could either of them doubt
what was going to happen.
Jack felt a strange feeling of exultation,
love, hope, and fear. He asked Rose very seriously, "Nervous?"
Also solemnly, she shook her head.
"No."
Well, he was nervous. He was certain she
expected him to know what to do. He had seen rather graphic illustrations of
intercourse before and knew quite a lot about it from conversations with other
people, but he was a complete stranger to doing it himself. He felt his heart
rate accelerate even higher and his breath was short. He was afraid of hurting
her, of squelching the love that was exploding inside them both. It was also a
monstrous step that left no room out--which was uncomfortable for a wanderer
like him. However, he was ready to take that step, as long as it was with Rose.
She seemed to sense his disconcertment and
took a small initiative. After kissing his fingers individually, she spoke.
"Put your hands on me, Jack." Suiting action to words, she took his
hand and guided him to her left breast. As he leaned in to kiss her soft,
moist, yielding lips, his nervousness was washed away like it had never even
existed.
For long minutes, words were unnecessary.
Indeed, the only sound coming from the car was the gentle whisper of meeting
lips and the imperceptible sloshing of tongues locked together.
Jack was caught up in the momentum of the
kiss and their love. Rose's hands stopped caressing his back and tousling his
hair to attack the buttons of his shirt. Their mouths, though, stayed locked
together like the seams of a ship. Jack's hands were occupied stroking her face
and exploring her body through the diaphanous outfit she was now wearing.
Moments later, his shirt succumbed to Rose's
fury and slipped off his thin, lithe frame. Jack hesitated to return the favor.
He was still vaguely aware of the social differences between them and the
seeming impossibility of anything permanent and lasting occurring. But, in the
fog of their activities, that part was rapidly getting lost. It barely
whimpered as his hands moved to return the favor.
However, Rose's simple-seeming outfit did not
succumb as readily as his had. He explored the various seams, seeking buttons
or snaps or any simple device that would allow him to loosen it enough to
remove it. He fretted away unsuccessfully for several moments, losing
concentration on the kiss.
Rose pulled back momentarily, breaking their
kiss for the first time in minutes. She gasped huskily, "Let me,"
before pressing her mouth firmly back against his.
Jack was happy to oblige. He closed his eyes
to Rose's slight squirming, letting her do what he could not. As the kiss
resumed, Jack could taste the slight saltiness of Rose's mouth, feel the
roughness of her teeth, and the smoothness of her lips. Being forced to breathe
through his nose opened him to the experience of her soapy, sultry smell,
shadowed slight by sweat caused by their run through the fiery furnace room.
Underneath him, his bare chest felt her buxom form still gyrating gently.
Nearly every part of him was in contact with some part of her, and the other
parts seemed to be completely unresponsive.
He thought of how much he loved her and how
astounding their relationship was. Something so miraculous and perfect had to
be the work of something more than mere chance--which seemed to have been the
guiding force for most of his life. Jack knew that he would give anything and
everything he had, money, fame, talent, even his life, for the woman he loved
and who was so intimately close.
At that moment, she started to push against
him, sitting up. Surprised, his eyes opened to watch lavender slip away to
reveal peach brilliance, dotted with spots of plum. As Jack watched
dry-mouthed, she gave a small shrug, magnified fantastically by the body parts
holding his complete attention, and the entire garment fell to the car floor,
leaving Rose only her small panties to guard the remaining husk of her virtue.
A quick, questioning look received an even
briefer nod of acquiescence. In less time than it takes to tell, both divested
themselves of their remaining clothing, and pressed their naked forms closely
against each other.
The warmth of Rose's body partially trapped
by the large overcoat Jack had been wearing combined with the luxuriance of her
skin to overwhelm all the sensors in his brain. He felt like passion
personified, love embodied, and lust in human form.
Their lips found each other again, this time
with more urgency. Their hands could not be stilled, caressing the other's
hair, face, back, legs, and everything else they could reach. Jack moved his
kiss down from Rose's lips to graze her throat. He nuzzled his way to her ear
to whisper throatily, "Oh, Rose." Then he moved again, to run his
mouth sensuously all over her fantastic bosom, hardening her nipples to
adamantine and forcing a low groan past her lips.
The intensity of Jack's throbbing grew to be
nearly unbearable. He returned to her lips, probing deep and hard with his
tongue. As one, their hands moved to guide his manhood toward her eager
opening.
Just before contact, he asked "Are you
sure?" For an answer, his amour pulled him close and thrust with her hips.
He plunged back, through her body's thin wall of resistance before realizing it
was even there. Rose stiffened and gasped a little, easing the fury of Jack's
desire slightly.
Their pause, however, was brief. A reassuring
squeeze encouraged both that all was well. A few gentle thrusts from Jack's
loins cleared the remaining obstruction, allowing him to marvel in the tight,
moist feeling of actually being inside a woman.
Forgotten at the moment, their mouths
remained firmly pressed together, but lips and tongue were quiescent, lost in
the tide of what was happening. Slowly but with building confidence, they found
a pleasant rhythm that built in speed and intensity. An unbearable pressure was
building inside Jack.
A few strokes later, a simultaneous low moan
escaped their lips. Jack's toes popped as he unconsciously curled them. Of its
own volition, Rose's hand was flung away, to smack against the hard glass of
the rear window. Their moans peaked as their bodies erupted.
For Jack, it was an impossibly large
explosion--unmatchable by anything, except possibly the one in Rose's body. His
entire awareness was trapped in a powerful, glorious grip. Mere words are
completely inadequate to describe his feelings at that time.
An eternity later, it ended. Tenuously, Jack
opened his eyes to behold Rose's similar action. In awe, they just looked at
each other for a moment. Then, slowly, gingerly, they reached out to touch the
other's face to make certain the other was real, though the notion that it
could have been merely imagination was preposterous. Nevertheless, the touch
reassured and comforted them both.
As they lay there recovering their breath and
their senses, Rose spoke in a startled, yet lovingly mild voice. "You're
trembling." As the import of her words sunk in, Jack realized she was
correct. Part of it was the challenge of breathing normally; part the stress of
the physical act just completed; very little had to do with the cold.
Drawing a breath, he reassured her as
lovingly as possible. "Don't worry. I'll be all right." In fact, he
was more than all right, but his mind wasn't exactly working at full capacity
at that point. He wanted to tell her how much their love-making meant to him,
how it made him feel, but he knew any attempt to do so would only sound
foolish.
Looking at her, though, he could sense that
she already knew. It had obviously meant as much to her. They kissed again, a
short, gentle kiss of love and support. Unwilling to sunder their bodies, Jack
eased his head down onto her soft chest and closed his eyes.
They lay there unspeaking, luxuriating in the
after-glow warmth of the other's body. They remained pressed tightly together,
neither willing to let the momentous moment pass.
Jack could hear the pounding of her heart as
he rested on her breast. He felt the inconsistent flutter of Rose's exhalation
against his neck. He smelt a new odor, one that could only be the spicy scent
of sex itself. Every nerve in his body seemed to be responding to the strong
stimuli.
No one had ever told him about this part of
lovemaking before. Most men he knew joked about how quickly they left after an
affair. For his part, he dreamed of staying forever, locked in Rose's strong
embrace. He knew it was unrealistic, but he was determined to stretch time to
its limits to allow them to stay as they were.
Suddenly, though, a thought struck him. He
bolted upright cursing. "Shit!" Responding to Rose's startled glance,
he elaborated, "What if you get pregnant?" He knew it could happen.
He'd known people that it had happened to.
She just looked at him calmly. "Does it
really matter?" Her eyes held his for a moment, before releasing him to
his thoughts.
A brief internal struggle ensued, but the
outcome was never in doubt. Amazed, Jack shook his head. "No. I guess it
doesn't really." He could scarcely believe, though, that she was so
willing to throw away her money, power, and status. Being pregnant with him as
a father would certainly destroy her social standing. He shook his head in
astonishment. He knew they would do anything for each other. Nothing could stop
that, or so he thought.
Still, the possibility of separation nagged
at him. As he concentrated, which he was able to do now that other, more
interesting activities were over, he realized that Lovejoy would certainly be
looking for them--maybe with help from the stewards. The stokers surely knew
where they had gone. A glance at the fogged windows and the print of a human
hand eliminated any chance of remaining unseen where they were.
"Rose." He got her attention.
"We probably need to get out of here. They'll be looking for us."
She sighed languidly, still an impressive
sight even with his ardor so recently sated. "I suppose you're
right." She smiled lazily. "I guess I'll have to get dressed
again."
At that moment, they heard a door open and
the sound of the furnaces echoed through the hold. The caught the barest
snippets of a distant conversation. "They ran...there."
Jack and Rose stared at each other mutely for
a second before either could speak. He found his voice first. "Come on.
Let's get out of here and find a more hidden place to put our clothes back
on."
As they hastily gathered their clothes, he
noticed a large red spot on Rose's garment. He knew instantly what it was and
could only hope that it wouldn't show too obviously once she put it back on.
She, however, seemed to be almost in a trance, barely remembering to grab her
undergarments.
They quickly and quietly slipped out the door
and padded their way behind a stack of crates, which had blocked the view of
the base of a staircase leading to another door. Filing that information away
for later, Jack began to get dressed.
Rose did so, too. To the relief of both, the
bloodstain was completely hidden by the layers of her outfit and was completely
invisible. She started up the stairs, but Jack stayed her partway. They heard a
snap of fingers and looked to see two stewards moving around to open the door
to the Renault.
The steward's cry of "Got you!" was
shouted at the bare back seat of an empty vehicle. Suppressing the laughter at
the facial expressions of the two men, the lovers climbed the last few stairs
and slipped out into the cool night air.
The End.