Crude

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Butch ran his eyes along Mickey’s body. “Not many secrets on an offshore oil rig sweetie and, well let’s face it– you do a very nice job of filling out the front of that jumpsuit.”

“You should know. You just helped yourself to a fast handful of it.”

Butch laughed again. A dirty sound that had Mickey looking around for Jocko. “Hey. You should be proud,”Butch said. “Not many women look as good as you in one of those monkey suits.”

Well, Mickey had to admit, Butch had that part right. The jumpsuits provided to the women could not be considered any kind of elegant attire. They were made of heavy orange canvas, orange being the Pentoxx corporate color, and buttoned up the front from waist to neck. The overalls were far from sexy but at least an attempt had been made to match the cut to the shape a woman’s body. Some of the women tried to soften the look by adding a silk scarf or a bit of jewelry about the neck. Some of the younger girls even dared to leave the jumpsuits unbuttoned, displaying a colorful blouse or tank top underneath. Other’s favored what the men wore: orange bib-style overalls with a work-shirt.

“I’m sure you haven’t missed Jill,”Mickey shot back. “I don’t notice any wrinkles spoiling the cut at the front of her jumpsuit.”

“The dive tech?”Butch frowned to consider. “She’s a friggin’ c**k teaser.”

The venom in his voice told Mickey right away it was his c**k that had been teased and when Butch had made his move, Jill had rejected him. And probably not in kind way.

“Wonder what happened to Jocko?”Mickey tried to ease the conversation to less volatile ground. It didn’t work.

“Jill probably followed him into the electrical closet. Dangled her t**s in his face and asked him to show off his muscle. So how about it?”

Mickey turned her eyes up. “How about what?”

“You. Dangling your t**s in my face. A little show of appreciation for all the work I’m doin’ behind this wheel.”

Mickey’s jaw dropped slack. “You’re not serious...”

“Sure I am. You got a nice rack and I bet you like to show ‘em off. Jocko says you f**k, so what’s the big deal?”

“But...”

“Sorry I can’t spare the time right now, to give you the decent f*****g you deserve but you could pull your t**s out and lay a hand-job on me. When we get off this roller coaster, I’ll make it up to you. Really, I’d be happy to.”

Mickey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I better leave.”And she struggled to get out of the seat. She was reaching for the door handle when he pressed in from behind. He had dared to flip the switch to the auto-helm and with the boat steering itself, he made a grab for her shoulders.

“Don’t,”Mickey cried as he spun her around and backed her into the wheelhouse bulkhead. Abruptly his hands were everywhere– on her breasts, cupping her ass and up between her legs. He was popping her buttons when the crew-boat veered off the top of a wave and began to tumble.

Butch pulled his hands out from the front of her jumpsuit and made a grab for the ship’s wheel. “Holy fuck...”

Mickey used the moment to jam her breasts back into her bra and without looking toward the boat’s helm station, she twisted out the wheelhouse door.

“f**k,”Tyson commented as Mickey stormed by, “she didn’t even bother to button up.”

Jocko looked up from his magazine, his eyes wide. Mickey raced past and gave him an icy stare that would have frozen hell solid. She found a seat in the back and angrily did up her jumpsuit. Maybe she should take Alison’s lead, she thought. Get the hell out. Quit the rigs. She had the money.

She was thirty-eight years old, the product of two failed marriages– hers and her parents, childless, lived in a dumpy apartment she hardly ever got to use and she was subjected to the s****l whims of the men with whom she worked. Mickey had made good money in the oil business and through judicial saving and a modest inheritance, she had accumulated close to a million dollars, all of it invested in dependable mutual funds. Did she really need this job? Did she really need to put up with Jocko and his buddies?

Mickey leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. No, she decided. No she didn’t.

When Mickey roused herself from sleep she instantly sensed the seas had moderated. She looked out her porthole, saw stars, and the moonlight was reflecting off the backs of dark brooding waves. Her watch told her it was four-fifteen in the morning and she inhaled the aroma of rich coffee.

God– coffee!

Mickey struggled to her feet. She was unsteady; stiff and sore from sleeping in the boat-seat. Mickey first checked on the light snoring-sound which came from Alison, then made her way forward to the tiny galley compartment, following the fragrance of the freshly-ground brew.

“Morning, skip, take a load off.”Babbs, the ship’s engineer, pointed to a seat before reaching for a styrofoam cup. “Coffee’s hot and strong. Black, or with a shot of black-strap?”

Mickey smiled gratefully. “Black. Save the rum for my second cup.”And she watched Babbs pour.

Babbs was a compact woman, a little on the stocky side with unruly reddish blond hair which she wore tucked behind the ears and hacked off short above the collar. She and Mickey had spent years with Pentoxx; had worked together many times on many rigs and Mickey counted Babbs as a good friend and a first-class mate.

Babbs passed steaming coffee into Mickey’s hands. “Sandwiches are in the cooler if you’re up for it.”She slid the Igloo across the floor with a toe. Mickey’s stomach squeezed. She’d had a slice of dry toast for breakfast the day before and was suddenly feeling ravenous. Mickey lifted the lid and rooted among the pile of untouched sandwiches. She found a ham and cheese on white and peeled back the cellophane. The lettuce had wilted but she didn’t give a damn. She munched.

“The best sandwich ever,”Mickey exclaimed between bites.

“I’ll remind you of Jake’s Nawleans po’ boy, with dipping sauce.”

“Okay, but this is a close second. You eat?”

Babbs grinned sheepishly. “Already had two. No one else was interested. More coffee?”

Mickey had sucked off half the cup and held it up for a refill. “Rum will go good this time.”

Babbs nodded her approval and twisted off the cap from a bottle of dark Jamaican. Mickey took a sip. The smokey flavor the rum added to her brew was the best and the fumes opened her sinuses. “Where’d you get this stuff?”

Babbs topped off her own cup. “My brother works for JamPro. When they send the tanker over from Jamaica to Texas, he always stores a few cases on board. The stuff is made from burnt sugar cane and aged fifteen years. It’s so mellow, it’s gotta be my favorite.”

Mickey lifted her cup. “Here’s to your brother.”

“The boys in the wheelhouse have been at it for eighteen hours straight.”Babbs reached for the coffee pot. “I’ll make up a couple of cups. You wanna take ‘em forward along with some sandwiches?”

Mickey stopped chewing and studied her friend. “You couldn’t force me into that wheelhouse with a fuckin’ gun.”

A look of disbelief came up in Babbs’ eyes. “You and Jocko?”

“Let’s just say I’ve cashed in my chips. I’m so-o-o done.”

Babbs sat back and swirled rummy coffee in the bottom of her cup. “Yeah, I know. He’s a piece of work, that boy. It’s just he’s so damned good looking, with the great hair and I swear, he can blister paint with that smile of his.”

Mickey felt a stab of uncertainty. “You interested in Jocko? He ever try to get into your pants?”

Babbs shrugged. “Yeah. Once I guess– it was a while back.”

Mickey wasn’t sure how she should react. “You let him? C’mon, spill.”

Babbs tucked a strand of unruly hair behind an ear. “It was back when Katrina hit the Gulf. The hurricane that smashed New Orleans. It was nighttime and Jocko and I were at the terminal in Galveston, huddled over the single side-band radio listening while a Navy cutter tried to rescue our boys off one of the platforms. The sea was too rough to dock the boat so they turned back; told our guys to put on life jackets and ride out the storm. Well Jocko went friggin’ nuts– called the Navy boys candy-assed. Right out loud. Over the fuckin’ radio.”

Mickey sighed. “Yeah. I can imagine. Get on with it.”

Babbs added rum to her cup and sipped at it, straight up. “Jocko untied one of the crew-boats. Well I couldn’t let him go by himself so I hopped onboard and we headed out into that god-awful storm. When we got to the rig we could see by the work lights what had sent the Navy boys scurrying. The staging was underwater, being swept by forty-foot seas. Jocko didn’t even hesitate. He ran the boat straight at the staging under full power. The nose hit and came up outta the water. And using the engines, he kept the boat in position while the men climbed down to us.”

“Jocko did that?”

“Yeah. It was pretty friggin’ amazing. We got the men off the rig and Jocko eased back on the engines figuring a wave would lift us off. One did. A f*****g big one. The boat came up and the wheelhouse smashed into the underside of the steel gantry. It took out a section of the windscreen and the water was pouring in. The wheelhouse was flooded waist deep and we lost all the electrics. No lights, no radio, no nav system. Nothing.”

“Christ. How did you find your way back to Galveston?”

“A couple of the guys stemmed the flow of water with a seat cushion and some wood they hacked from a bulkhead. I had a flashlight and held it against the ship’s compass so Jocko could set a rough course for home. Two hours later we saw the loom of the city lights.”

“Fuckin’ Jocko...”Mickey’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah... Anyway, when we hit the dock, we were so happy to still be alive, we set off to giggling like a couple of kids in an ice cream factory. Jocko came up with a bottle and we passed it back and forth, sucking straight from the neck. We ran hand-in-hand into an empty office and Jocko locked the door. He got me outta my wet clothes and threw me across a cot. He f****d me.”

“Holy. Just like that. And you let him...”

“I was half drunk, outta my head with relief, feeling insane and couldn’t stop laughing. I lay back with a foot on the floor either side of that stupid cot and hoped it wouldn’t collapse when Jocko crawled up on top of me. He f****d me hard. I haven’t had many one-nighters, but the memory of what Jocko did to me will follow me to the grave. I swear– I must have c*m a dozen times before he finally dropped the hammer. I didn’t figure I’d be walking ‘til the middle of next week.”

“Christ, that good, huh? How long did it go on for?”

Babbs chuckled at the memory. “It didn’t get to square one, hun.”

“What? How come?”

“Well he tried, a couple of days later. He came sniffing around while I was changing out the injectors in one of the boats. But I knew it could never be the same. The night we did it, with that storm raging all around us, our planets must have been perfectly aligned or something. That could never happen twice and I didn’t want to be disappointed. And besides, I got a husband, remember? Anyway, you entered the picture and I was happy for you.”

“You never told me– we shared Jocko.”

Babbs hunched a shoulder. “Like they say: Some things best left unsaid. He’s a jerk, but an amazing one.”

“Yeah. Christ, every time I work up the courage to turn him loose, something comes up to change my mind. I’m fuckin’ hopeless. Pour the coffee and let’s go forward and see how Mr Atlantis is holding up.”