Sailing to Hell

The captain offered me and my two courtesans his cabin while Alicia and Min Mei would share the first mate's cabin. Watching this rig progress through the waves thanks to the sailors' efforts was exhilarating.

I played my role as a distant and slightly contemptuous marquise, but inwardly exhilarated, with my two courtesans chatting with me, laughing at the virility of some of the sailors, while Min Mei brought us fruit and drinks at will.

While Alicia had decided to help the sailors, who appreciated such a presence in their ranks.

The frigate creaked gently as it cut through the waves, the salty wind tugging playfully at my loose auburn curls. I chuckled behind my fan, my dark gaze falling on a particularly muscular sailor who was winding ropes nearby, his tanned arms twitching with each movement. Lyta leaned closer, her blond hair brushing my shoulder, as she whispered something scandalous about the first mate's piercing gaze, which regularly glanced at her Marilyn-esque beauty, enhanced by the mischief dancing in his eyes.

Alicia's laughter echoed across the deck, dry and uninhibited, as she adjusted a line beside the grinning crew, her hips swaying to the ship's rhythm.

The muscular sailor glanced over when he caught my eye, a slow smirk playing beneath his sun-bleached beard. My fan whipped faster, the delicate lace trembling beneath my fingers, but I refused to look away—what was a marquise but brazen without her poise?

Alicia's voice rang out again, tinged with a playful command, as she pulled on a rope beside the men, her hair wrapped in a scarf sliding over one shoulder. "Tighten this rope, my dear, unless you want the mainsail to kiss the waves!" The crew burst into laughter, one young sailor blushing as he hastened to obey.

Sunset fell too quickly on this first day of sailing. The captain invited us to eat. Min Mei accompanied us to serve us, while I saw Alicia curled up against the sailor at the helm, who was having trouble remaining stoic with such a creature openly flirting with him.

When we entered the captain's cabin, the table was set, it was decidedly Byzantine; the officers were eating truly opulently.

The captain's cabin was bathed in the golden glow of swaying lanterns, their light dancing on silver cutlery and polished pewter goblets. The scent of roast pheasant and spiced wine hung in the air as Min Mei moved silently between us, her delicate hands filling each glass with expert grace. I raised an eyebrow, observing the way the ship's surgeon—a man with high cheekbones and ink-stained fingers—tracked her every move, his gaze lingering on the curve of her neck where a single dark curl had escaped her braid.

It was a magical evening, but the captain had to rise early, so we went to bed early. The sea air made me fall into the arms of Morpheus after I slipped into a finely embroidered linen nightgown that hinted at my curves but was dignified, befitting my status and the era.