'I've got the solution to that.'
'What?'
'I won't eat. You'll eat and I'll suck you off and swallow it. You'll fuck me without coming and I'll get off, and then I'll suck you off. Those nutrients you're so worried about won't be wasted. Great ecological breakthrough. Perfect recycling. May be the answer to the world's food problems.'
'For Shitsake!' Sean laughed in spite of himself. Andrea was sampling the onion dip and rolling a bunch of joints.
'The way I figure it' she said, 'Johnny Popper's just goofing on us. Trying to teach us some kind of lesson. If he'd wanted to do us in he could've tied a couple of those Cordon Rouge cases to our feet and dropped us overboard instead of putting them on ice and throwing them in a lifeboat with us.' She lit up a joint, took a hit, and passed it to him.
Sean started to take a hit, suddenly became furious and threw the joint overboard. 'I suppose you think we're bound to be spotted by a fishing boat or a plane or something? Well for your information we're not in anybody's fishing grounds, we're nowhere near commercial shipping or air lanes, and even if we were we'd have no way to attract anybody's attention. Except with this.' He picked up the cap gun and fired three shots into the air. He looked all around the vacant horizon. 'Where are they? Why aren't they coming? Do you think maybe they didn't hear that?'
Andrea lit another joint. 'Throw these damned things overboard if you want to throw something. We've got these to burn.' She handed it to him. He took a hit and obliged. 'The way I figure it,' she said, 'the Guru's gonna come back and pick us up again after a little while. He's got to. I mean, John and Joanna and Joe Lee are on that boat, and they're going to start asking questions.'
'Not for a while. After all, we did tell them not to wait up for us. The ship'll be docking in Martinique today and maybe Baloney can get away with telling them that we suddenly decided to go back to New York, had a plane to catch, and didn't get a chance to say goodbye.'
'Hardly likely they'll believe it.'
'Maybe he'll tell them we asked to borrow one of his lifeboats for a little cruise of our own.'
They continued in this vein for some time, with Andrea rolling joints, lighting them, and passing them to Sean, who took one hit from each and threw them overboard. 'We ought to be writing notes on these damned things,' he said. Andrea sampled half a dozen kinds of hors d'ouvres. 'Why don't you open bottle of champagne? These things are making me thirsty.'
Sean pulled a bottle out of the ice. 'There's no corkscrew, and these bottles aren't the kind you can open with your thumbs. He found a knife, chopped the cork up trying to pry it out, and finally extracted it with his teeth, nearly blowing his head off in the process. 'And incidentally,' he said, swaying a little bit under the influence of the marijuana as he passed the bottle to her, 'even if the Guru wants to come back and pick us up, how the hell's he going to find us? The ocean's a big place, you know.'
'Maybe he'll home in on the vibrations of our fucking.' Andrea was getting horny and Sean was getting drunk as well as stoned. 'So as I said before, let's fuck.'
'Will you forget that, please? I told you, I refuse to fuck.'
Andrea smiled sweetly at him and pulled down her jeans. She spread out on the floor with her legs wide open. 'Okay. Have it your way. You resist just as long as you can.'
He eyed her with obvious temptation. She fluffed up her cunt-hair and wiggled a finger casually back and forth on her clit. 'By the way, Johnny Popper may be a gold-plated bastard, but he's one hell of a fucker. Before I realized what he'd been saying last night he took me for the ride of my life. Incredible. If you won't fuck me I guess I'll have to get myself off remembering that.'
'If you think I'm going to ball you to prove I can shoot a better stick than Phony Baloney, you've got another think coming. Get off however you want, if that's what you want to do.'
'Okay, schmuck. I'll wait till we polish off the champagne and get off on the bottle.' She rubbed the mouth of the bottle against her pussy. 'Or maybe I won't even wait.' She kicked her legs up, shoved the bottle in, fingered her clit, and started moaning. The bottle shook and fizzed a column of bubbling champagne up into her hole. 'Oh, if Lawrence Welk could see me now… '
'If you could turn that snap-dragon of yours into an opener my teeth would be a hell of a lot better off.' Sean was staring at her frothing snap-dragon, much to the detriment of his celibate resolve. 'You got me stoned because you knew it would be harder for me to resist!'
Andrea saw she had him going. 'Look,' she pointed out, 'there's no law that says you have to come. Hold onto your silly nutrients, for all I care. Just stick it in here and wiggle it around.' She pulled the bottle out of her hole and pointed. 'That's all I need. Look-it's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the waves are waving, the fish are flying… and I'm horny.'
'Oh, all right,' Sean agreed. 'But this is completely ridiculous. I want you to appreciate that. Here we are stranded out in the middle of the ocean… ' He pulled off his pants and stuck out his tongue when Andrea pointed triumphantly to his hard-on.
They balled for about fifteen minutes. Halfway through, as they changed position, Andrea said, 'Dig it-maybe a plane!! go over, and there's nothing that attracts attention like two people fucking in a lifeboat.' She grabbed the KY. 'Give me a little of this, will you? That champagne doesn't seem to be getting changed into useful bodily fluids, and I sure as hell don't want to get sore.'
Sean shook his head ruefully as he applied the dark green jelly. 'I must say that makes you look ludicrous.' He dabbed some on his dork. 'Me too.'
In the end Sean came in spite of himself. He was a little bit upset afterward, but not too much, because as usual it was really mind-blowing to fuck with Andrea, and it made him forget their troubles. Besides, he resolved not to let it happen again.
'All right,' Andrea thought to herself when they were done. 'One down, ninety-nine to go.' She didn't really believe they could fuck their way home, but she'd decided she'd rather go out fucking than moping, and besides, there was always the chance.
For the rest of the day Sean went crazy trying to rig up sails with their clothing, beating the water with the toy paddles, and indulging in sardonic soliloquies about the poetic justice of their situation, mostly centered around their having mixed mercenary greed with altruism, which according to him had created a massive portion of pure stupidity. By dint of much ingenuity and not a little promiscuity Andrea got him to ball her four more times, although he managed to keep from coming each time.
By nightfall Andrea was a good deal more worried than she'd been in the morning. They hadn't seen a sign of life all day-except for an occasional shark's fin cutting the water, which scared the hell out of her. But as the sun went down and the moon came up she took out her guitar and started singing Rock of Ages. Despite the fact that she had a green cunt and a troubled mind, that made her remember back to the beginning of it all and she got excited thinking about her first night with Sean. He really was quite a guy. If they ever got out of this…
She and Sean started reminiscing, wondering about Joe and John and Joanna, dredging up memories of past orgies, and ended up fucking one more time. Sean just had to come because, as he later remarked, if he hadn't he would have ended up with the most humungous case of lovers' nuts in history, and his balls would have been likely to crowd them out of the boat. Still, he was determined to fuck as little as possible-if at all-and requested Andrea to please try to control herself.
After he was asleep Andrea snuck back toward the stern, moved aside a case of smoked octopus, and cut half a dozen notches in the gunwhale with a knife. She figured she might as well keep track.
For the next eleven days Sean and Andrea drifted helplessly out to sea. The currents, carrying them at an average of a little over a mile an hour at first, gradually slackened to nothing, so that they were merely being pushed back and forth by the tides and not going anywhere. Sean figured they were 312 miles from Martinique, still the closest land, at 8:30 in the morning on the twelfth day.
For the first few days their spirits remained good. It turned out that actually their hors d'ouvres were more nutritious than Sean had thought, although he was sure they were eventually going to be hurting for some essential vitamins. But that was hardly his main worry. Twelve cases of champagne weren't going to last forever, which he suspected might be how long they'd be drifting around before anyone found them, and liquids would be their most vital need. And then there was the possibility of storms. The weather was good, with only a few relatively calm rains to drench them down and give them the unpleasant task of bailing out the bilge with sardine cans. But the
