Selim's homecoming

Selim packed his traveling sack, making sure the gifts he had brought home were handy near the top. He bared his mahogany limbs and scrubbed himself clean, combed out his hair, and scented himself with sandalwood. The first mate gave him leave to go, and he found himself once again on the bustling quay of his home, Port Ruby.

Other sailors were taking leave from the ship. He saw tall Thor leading a little group toward the sailors' quarter, no doubt with loose women and rum on their minds. He grinned at them as they left. To each his own.

He saw the Captain up on deck, her hair tied back with a no-nonsense bow. Emily Flint was not loose at all, but hard like her name. Still, Selim had found her a steady and fair captain despite her youth, and he would be content to sail with her again. No doubt Thor and his companions would be prepared to defend the Captain's honor with their fists if any wharf rat breathed an insult in their hearing. He smiled at the memory of one night at anchor, when he had gone over the side to inspect the rudder. Through the seaward window, he saw the Captain's buttocks heaving as she vigorously pleasured herself riding an exquisitely carved ivory olisbos. He had been impressed by her obvious good taste and pleased to discover that she had a heart of strong desires under her ship-shape manner. And now that he knew what to look for, he could tell she often had a ride before the change of night watches.

Young sailor Nils left the ship and stood on the quay, looking a little bewildered. Selim thought he finally looked like a man, rather than the underfed foundling that he seemed to be at the start of the voyage. Perhaps at this port call, he would have a chance to come more into his own. But just as likely, he'd end up sick drunk and the butt of fun from older, tougher sailors.

"Ho Selim," he called. "Do you know which way Thor went?"

Selim considered inviting him to his own house. His women would make him welcome, and might be tickled to have a chance to teach a green young man the arts of love. And it would be a novel pleasure to see them wriggling under a handsome, eager young man. He rubbed his chin and pondered.