The Titanic steamed into the sunset in the dusk light, as if it was lit by the embers of a great fire. Shades of purple, yellow, and orange were painted across the sky. Jack was there, right at the apex of the bow railing, his favorite place to be on the entire ship. The cool evening wind danced across his face, and he closed his eyes, allowing the cool air to clear his mind.
“Hello, Jack.”
A voice came and he whipped his head around, and she was there. Rose.
“I changed my mind.”
A smile came across his face and his eyes were drinking her in. Her cheeks were red from the chill and her eyes sparkled. Her hair flew about her wildly.
“Fabrizio said you might be up—“
“Shh.” Jack placed his finger to his lips and shushed her. She glanced at him. “Give me your hand.”
He held out his hand to her and she took it, smiling. The moment her hand slipped into his, she felt as though this was all a dream. He came closer to her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.
“Now, close your eyes,” he told her softly, and she hesitantly did so.
She didn't know if he was going to kiss her or not, and would have to prepare herself. She could feel her heart beating wildly. He turned her body to face forward, the way the ship was going. He pressed her gently to the rail, standing right behind her.
“Now, step up onto the rail. Keep your eyes closed and don't peek.”
He held her two hands and she stepped up onto the rail, trusting Jack completely.
“I'm not.”
Jack stood behind her on the rail and then slowly took her hands and outstretched them on each side. Rose went along with him, trusting him with her life. Jack lowered his own hands and placed them on her waist, leaving her arms stretched outwards like wings.
“All right. Open your eyes,” he whispered into her ear.
As she saw the beauty before her, she gasped. There was nothing in her field of vision but water. It was like there was no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. The Atlantic unrolled toward her, a hammered copper shield under a dusk sky. There was only the wind, and the hiss of the water fifty feet below.
“I'm flying! Jack!” she gasped, and leaned forward, arching her back.
Jack put his arms further around her waist to steady her. He placed his chin on her shoulder and softly began to sing a song—their song, which they had sang together the night before after the third class party.
“Come Josephine, in my flying machine…”
Rose closed her eyes, feeling herself floating weightless, far above the sea. She smiled dreamily, then leaned back, gently pressing her back against his chest. He pushed forward slightly against her. Slowly, he raised his hands, arms outstretched, and they met hers, entwining their fingers and moving slowly as they caressed each other through and around each other like the bodies of two lovers.
Jack tipped his face forward into her flowing hair, letting the scent of her wash over him, until his cheek was against her ear. Rose turned her head slightly until her lips were near his. She lowered her arms, turning further until her lips found his. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and looked into her eyes before closing them.
They finally surrendered to each other, to the emotion, to the inevitable. They kissed slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion. Jack and the ship seemed to merge into one force of power and optimism, lifting her, buoying her forward on a magical journey, soaring onward into a night without fear. He never wanted to stop kissing her.
The whole event felt like a dream from which neither of them wanted to wake up. Moments later, Rose opened her eyes slowly, as did Jack, and they did nothing but look at each other. They felt the passion and love between them, even though it was unspoken. She found that, just by looking into his gorgeous blue eyes, she trusted him with her entire life.
Stepping backward, Jack stepped down from the rail, holding Rose's hand to help her step down, too. No words were needed as they simply held each other’s hands.
The soft breeze blew her curls around her and her skin was bathed in the soft light of the sunset. Her beauty almost took Jack's breath away. Not being able to resist anymore, he took her face in his artist’s hands and softly caressed her cheeks before leaning forward to kiss her once more. He never wanted the night to end.
Rose moved her mouth in motion with his and felt her stomach churn with excitement and nerves. If a single kiss with this man made her feel like this, then what would their lovemaking be like? Jack made her feel like she was the only woman in the world, like she was a fragile bird caged up, which needed to be freed, and he was slowly freeing her from the confines of her world.
He parted from her a moment later. She licked her lips softly, feeling his tender lips still on hers. His eyes spoke the words he longed to tell her—how much he wanted her.
The wind picked up slightly and Rose shivered. Jack pulled her closer to him. She wanted to stay in his embrace forever, and now that he had shown her she could soar, she never wanted to stop.
An idea entered Rose's mind, one she never thought would cross it at all. “Jack, would you come back to my stateroom? There's something I wish to show you.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Jack was intrigued. Hand in hand, she led him to her stateroom. They laughed like young lovers should, fingers entwined. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Taking in the opulence of the corridors of first class, Jack felt almost intimidated, but he remembered why he was here—for Rose. “Is it all right for me to be here?” he asked, somewhat nervous.
“It’s quite proper, I assure you.” Rose laughed at his discomfort. “This is the sitting room.”
Rose placed her key on the table as Jack took in his surroundings. It was like being in a dream. Jack was overwhelmed by the opulence of the room. He set his sketchbook and drawing materials on the marble table.
“Will this light do? Don't artists need good light?”
Jack turned to Rose and spoke in a very bad French accent. “Zat is true. I am not used to working in such 'orrible conditions.”
Rose giggled as she removed her wrap and set it on the couch.
“Hey, Monet!” A Monet painting caught his attention and he quickly moved towards it, touching the bumps of the painting in a dreamlike state.
“Do you know his work?” Rose asked as she moved into the adjoining walk-in wardrobe closet.
“Of course. Look at his use of color here. Isn't it great?” Jack touched the painting, drinking it in, realizing just how much money Rose must have to own several paintings.
Jack watched Rose go to a small green safe and start working the combination. He watched, fascinated.
“Cal insists on carting this hideous thing everywhere.” Rose laughed and rummaged inside the safe before finding what she was looking for.
“Should I be expecting him anytime soon?” Jack asked, somewhat nervously.
“Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out.”
Glancing up, she met his eyes in the mirror behind the safe. She removed the necklace and held it out to Jack, who held it nervously.
“What is it? A sapphire?”
“No, a diamond. A very rare diamond.”
Jack gazed at the stone, wealth beyond his comprehension. He became almost transfixed by the stone’s dazzling blue.
“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this.”
Rose smiled at him as he still gazed at the necklace. “All right,” he muttered, but Rose knew he didn't comprehend what she meant.
“Wearing only this…”
Jack turned his head to her and didn't speak at all. Her smile went to her eyes and they sparkled. Jack saw the fire within her and knew she meant her words. He didn't ask her if she was sure, because he already knew she was. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her lips just once, his own heart beating rapidly inside his chest.
*****
Jack laid out his pencils like surgical tools. His sketchbook was open and ready. He began to sharpen the pencil with a small knife, making a scratching noise.
Rose's bedroom door opened and he glanced upwards to see her wearing nothing but a black kimono and a smile on her face. She began to come towards him and he dropped his pencil, transfixed by her beauty, before picking it up again.
“The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.”
She handed him a dime before stepping backwards and parting her kimono. The blue stone lay on her creamy breast and her heart pounded as she parted the robe. Jack looked stricken. He dropped his pencil a second time and Rose stifled a small laugh.
She walked to the Divan couch and slowly positioned herself, feeling her heart beating wildly. She could feel Jack's eyes on her naked body, and she had never felt so exposed to anyone in her entire life, but she felt so free.
“Tell me when that looks right.”
Jack let the artist in him take over the situation. “Uh...just bend your left leg a little and...lower your head. Eyes to me, keep them on me, and try to stay still.” Jack sighed, feeling his heart beating heavily inside his chest.
He began to sketch, line after line, and he glanced at Rose's body every few seconds, his face deadly serious. Rose felt his eyes on her body and a small smile appeared on her face. She took note of how serious his face appeared when he sketched.
“So serious,” she teased, and he smirked before his face turned serious once more.
His artist's eyes looked over her body and she shivered, feeling goose bumps appear on her body. The effect he had on her from just one look was immense.
The sketch had begun to take form. As he sketched her breasts and smudged the charcoal on the paper, he glanced upwards once more to her breasts and felt his cheeks redden slightly, but still he continued to sketch.
“I believe you are blushing, Monsieur Big Artiste,” she teased. “I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing.”
Jack paused for a moment, sweating. “He does landscapes.” Rose smiled at him. “Just relax your face. No laughing.”
Taking a deep breath, Rose relaxed her face, feeling her heartbeat and the butterflies in her stomach. She couldn't concentrate on anything besides Jack, his boyish face, his gorgeous blue eyes which saw right through her soul. The image of his eyes was something she would carry with her forever.
Despite his nervousness, he drew with pure strokes and from it emerged the best thing he had ever done. Her pose was languid, her hands were beautiful, and her eyes radiated energy.
The night would be one neither of them would ever forget. All the boundaries which were preventing such an event from happening had been torn down and discarded forever.
Rose knew where she wanted to be from the moment she had laid eyes on him, the man who had rescued her in so many ways. She had found the strength to leave the upper class and all of its confines. She knew she wanted to be with Jack, to get off the ship with him and never look back.
As the sketch was finished, Jack glanced at her naked body one last time and then at her eyes. The two shared a moment with their eyes interlocked, a moment which would never leave them for as long as they both lived.
The End.