Read Online ( 2011) Cry For Justice by Ralph Zeta - Free Book Online Page A

this being the longest relationship I had ever had but if, for some reason, we ended up going our separate ways, I knew it would hurt. Perhaps more than I cared to admit. But would I miss her enough to put it all on the line? Was it enough to warrant a trip to Tiffany followed by uttering the “M” word? I didn’t need to wonder too much. I’ve always known the answer, and it didn’t matter how many ways I batted the idea around: it is not for me.
    I padded quietly on bare feet into the main salon. Nora turned up one hand, palm out, stopping me dead, then lifted her index finger, indicating she needed another moment. I stopped all movement. I felt a raindrop sliding down from my hair to my eyebrow, where it found some sort of invisible groove that took it down the side of my nose. It tickled like hell, but I didn’t dare move.
    After a moment, she finally opened her eyes and said, “Hello, sailor.” She rocked up onto her feet and faced me. “You’re dripping!” She strode off to one of the storage cabinets and plucked up a pair of beach towels.
    She began to towel me dry. “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
    “What?” I asked, feigning confusion.
    “My hands all over you.”
    “Yeah, but it’s not quite right,” I replied. “I don’t remember clothes in my version. And your hands were elsewhere.”
    I pushed off the towel and embraced her... and forgot all about nautical charts, tides, Gulf Stream currents, gale-force winds, channel markers, everything. Reality just seemed to meld into a torrent of excitement. I felt her kiss my cheek between giggles. God, she felt good. I was glad she was back, and I expressed it quite predictably.
    “Oh, no, you don’t!” she said as she playfully pushed me away. Somehow, though I had nine inches and nearly ninety pounds on her, she was still strong enough to shove me around a bit.
    I moved in on her, my hands fast and nimble, seeking. She pushed me away, saying, “No way, mister. I’m sweaty...”
    “Then let’s get sweatier,” I replied, moving in again.
    “There’s no way, Jason!”
    “Hey, you’ve been gone five days,” I retorted. “A man has needs.”
    She countered my advances, informing me she had just returned from her yoga class and had spent the hour before that at the gym. A hard workout. She was filthy, she claimed, but she had completed her assigned share of the predeparture tasks. The liquor cabinet, refrigerator, and galley were fully stocked.
    “Yes, well,” she said, her hands still on my chest in a futile attempt to keep me at bay, “those manly needs will simply have to wait. We have more important things to worry about.”
    As I dropped my head in mock dejection, Nora brought up the weather forecast. She had been listening to the official NOAA reports on the radio. The weather was expected to remain unfavorable for all small craft for at least a couple of days. Worse, it was expected to worsen in the next twenty-four hours. Even on a boat of this size, crossing the Gulf Stream under such conditions was a bad idea.
    I gazed out the long rectangular windows framing three sides of the main salon and saw nothing outside to contradict NOAA. The rain-darkened skies made it seem as though night had fallen.
    “I’m sorry.” Nora leaned in and kissed my cheek. “But hey, look at it this way, sailor: maybe we won’t have to cancel the entire vacation. Maybe we just lose a day or two.”
    I sighed and sank into one of the deep-padded chairs. The blare from the radio startled both of us. From the small navigation station tucked neatly into starboard wall of the salon, a disembodied voice delivered another official weather advisory:
    “Small-craft advisory is in effect. Weather is worsening. Waters east of the coast and especially in the Gulf Stream are experiencing unusually high seas and waves. Expected to continue like this for at least forty-eight hours ...”
    Great. Sammy had been right after all. This whole vacation