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The Only Rules That Matter: Exploration (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Paul's Harbor was beautiful in a bleak sort of way. Jenny knew her husband didn't think much of it, and neither did she if she were honest, but they'd been on the ship for months and she needed to feel solid ground beneath her feet again. The sea wasn't in her blood like it was his; she sailed because he was her home. Before dinner she'd insisted on seeing the Orthodox chapel and had spent the better part of half an hour admiring the artful architecture or sitting in silent prayer. She'd been struggling for a long time to reconcile her thoughts, her desires, with her faith and the longer she lived, the more she saw, the more difficult it became to reconcile Catholicism as she knew it with the world as she'd seen it. She'd been praying on this for weeks now, but even as Jack took her hand she still wasn't certain she was ready to bring it up.

"Jack...John..." She never knew what to call him anymore! "Love...we've been married for a hundred and fifty years, and I wouldn't take back a single second of it. We had those rocky five or so years, but five out of a century and a half is nothing to sneer at." Jenny lowered her eyes to the table for a moment. Those years out pirating in parts unknown, followed by Anne... She swallowed hard. Those 'rocky' years had nearly destroyed them. Biting her lip in an effort to bolster her courage she looked up again. She'd practiced this in her head over and over and now she was getting it all jumbled.

"The Word was written for...well, for mortals." It sounded like an excuse even as it left her lips and she nearly cringed. "A man should cleave to his wife, immorality shouldn't be tolerated...but that's basing everything on the average human lifespan, and that's just something we don't have." Jenny cleared her throat and squeezed his hand. "Last year in Boston I was talking to that Emmerson fellow and he told me about this place in Vermont called Oneida. He says that there they believe that all men in the community are married to all women in their souls. I don't think that's true but from what he tells it never got...ah...monotonous." Oh God could he please just understand what she was getting at so she didn't have to say it?? "What I mean is...I mean there are men who...and I mean I've seen you looking at..." Jenny flushed, took a deep breath, and decided to just blurt out all at once what she meant to say.

"I think we should sleep with more people."
 
John listened, curious, as Jenny hemmed and hawed and beat around the bush, wondering where all of this was going. Usually, the only time she did this was when she was embarrased. And so he sipped at his beer and waited until she finally blurted out the point of what she was hinring at: "i think we should sleep with more people."

He blinked in surprise at that, nonplussed. Then he downed his mug at one go, and signalled for a refill. "I am not drunk enough for this conversation," he muttered, "and not sober enough either."

The new mug arrived, and the waiter withdrew. John drank a few swallows. "I... that is..." Emotions flickered across his face - confusion and hurt and betrayal, mostly. "Are you..." He sipped at his beer, flustered, and tried again. "I don't want anyone else, Jenny! A century and a half, and I'm still still the happiest man on earth. Or any of the realms! And I've never..!"

He stopped, cutting off his words with another swallow of beer. Thatvwasn't true, was it? He still loved her, more each day than the day before. Still lusted after her as well. But... well, he'd begun fantasizing, hadn't he? Imagining other women as they made love. Because, pleasurable as it was, their love life - their physical love life, was growing a bit... stale? Or... monotonous, perhaps. As if, after a century and a half, it had all become routine.

"I..." Was Jenny feeling the same? The thought wounded his pride, even as he realized it was coming from his own guilty conscience. "I don't say that I'm agreeing, Jenny. Not by a long shot. But - for the sake of idle curiousity - how would this even work? Are you proposing multiple wives, like Solomon? Or... no, that's not right. Us each marrying again?" He downed his beer. "Because I love you, Jennifer Sparrow."
 
Jenny listened as he tried to work it out, the look of betrayal in his face making her feel knee-high to a butterfly. Then he started insisting that he didn't want to sleep with anyone else and she gave him a sad sort of smile.

"I'm trying to figure out whether you're lying to me or to yourself," she said gently before giving him more time. He was sharp, her Jack, but of all the things he'd seen and heard this seemed to be the thing he was having the most trouble wrapping his head around. When he asked whether she thought they ought to remarry she looked horrified.

"No! No not at all!" Jenny squeezed her husband's hand again and brought his fingers to her lips. "And I love you, John Sparrow, now more than ever. I never, ever want to leave you. I've been telling you for the better part of a hundred and fifty years that I'm yours body and soul, forever, and I mean that today just as much as I did at the turn of the last century. Moreso, even, considering "forever's" turned out to be much longer than I expected. You are and will be my one and only husband until the end of time and nothing will ever change that; nothing will ever happen to make me want it to change." Jenny paused to look into his eyes, to make sure he understood that she wasn't leaving him and she didn't want to remarry.

"But... Well... Any prostitute can tell you that sex is just sex. It has very little to do with love, at least when it comes to someone other than your soulmate." She squeezed his hands again. "I saw the way you ogled that brunette in Brussels, John. The one with the tits." She raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. "I won't deny my eyes have wandered too, and it's had nothing to do with my heart. It's just... Well... after being together for so long we've tried almost everything there is, haven't we? We know each other's moves; nothing's a surprise anymore. It's gotten a little...stale." She was trying to avoid the word 'boring' as best she could, though that was exactly what she'd meant.

"Think about it love. We won't catch diseases; I can't remember the last time I so much as sneezed. There was that entire year we tried for a baby just to see if we could and we can't because we're... Well, I dunno if we count as dead but the point is our bits are broken so there would be no worry of bastards. We could explore a variety of people who have had different experiences than us. Ralph was saying in Oneida the married couples were brought closer together and it makes sense. If you were to have other women but at the end of the day I was still the only one in your bed, I would always know that I'm your wife because you choose me, not out of obligation or habit or because of whatever we are now. And the brunette in Brussels was really pretty." Jenny's fingers ached from holding his hand so tightly but she didn't let go. She needed him to understand her.

"I've even heard...I mean there are some couples who... We could..." she looked around and leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper, "watch each other. And there are even other couples who share. I um... When you were out to sea all those years there were times... I'd touch myself... I'd imagine you and Ion sharing me..." Jenny flushed so deeply her face clashed with her hair. It was the first time she'd ever admitted to her husband any attraction to the gypsy who had been her friend for so many years. She has no doubts now that if John had stayed dead the first time she absolutely would have left Dover with Ion. She cleared her throat and moved on.

"I don't want to have more than one husband and I don't want you to have more than one wife. The bond of marriage is a sacred bond of love. But sex doesn't have anything to do with love usually. I want you to be happy and if that happiness means making love to more than just me then I'm okay with that. But...I want to be happy too." She looked down at the table. "I know that's selfish, but I had to at least bring it up and try. I think we've both been wandering for a while now."
 
"I..." John started to say, before something registered. "Ion and I? Together?"

He tried to work up a feeling of jealousy, and discovered to his surorise that he couldn't manage it. He'd griwn to like the gypsy, and he'd remained a strong family friend until the end of his days - Steven had even marrued one of his daughters. The man had been family, really. "You know... if you'd told me that when he was still alive, I'd probably have murdered him. But..."

He scratched his head. "You're... not the only one. Remember Scarlet and Giselle?" His voice was an embarrased whisper. "They tried to talk me into, well, both of them. More than once. I never did, mind," he added hastily, the image of waking up to Scarlet's mouth on his cock suddenly quite vivid. "But, well, I can't say I didn't cum to the thought. More than once."

Damnit. The longer she explained, the more sense she was making. And the thought of watching Jenny fuck another man, was turning him on. Sighing, he shifted in his seat and adjusted himself. "So, you're saying that - so long as we come home to each other, we can cum with someone else?" He drummed his fingers on the table, then sighed again.

"Part of me hates it - the part that's afraid of losing you. And part of me - a hirny 12-year-old part, I'm sure - really likes it." He sipped at the new beer that had been brought. "So... let's try it. As an experiment. Each of us, once, and then talk about it again. And if eaither of us is opposed, afterwards, then it never happens again."

Another swallow, as he thought hard. "Also, we have to be honest abiut it. I have to tell you if I'm on the pull. You have to tell me if you're with the same person, mire than once. Because Jealousy could ruin this - and us - quickly."
 
Jenny smiled a little when John mentioned trying to murder Ion. "That's why I didn't tell you til he's been dead a hundred years," she said with a shrug. "And...well...I've felt guilty, even after so long. If you'd died--stayed dead I mean--I could have seen a life with him because he reminded me so much of you before you went off pirating. Jack would never have spoken to me again, of course, but each time he kissed me you were the only reason I ever made him stop." Her face burned but it felt good to finally get that off of her chest. When he mentioned Scarlet and Giselle though, her lips pursed.

"I remember punching you in the face because I thought you'd slept with them," she reminded him. When John admitted to getting off to the idea of being with both of them Jenny's mouth dropped open and she made a noise not of jealousy but if indignity. "Them?" The word came out a little louder than intended and she lowered her voice again. "I mean honestly Jack, at least someone pretty! Anna Maria or what's-her-face...that nun. Not that you should've slept with her either; Jack was adamant I didn't like her because I wanted him to stay my baby boy forever, which I mean I did but that's not the point. I didn't like her because she didn't seem to care whether she got the son or the father. And then a bastard--!" Jenny snorted and shook her head, still not impressed with her daughter-in-law long after she had departed the mortal coil though she continued to love her son and grandsons with all her heart. "Anyway, my point is that at least I picked someone attractive. Giselle and Scarlet you could barely tell what they looked like under all that muck on their faces!"

Finally John shifted in his seat and Jenny raised her eyebrow, smirking a little. She knew that subtle adjustment all too well and knew she was winning. "So you're saying that so long as we come home to each other, we can cum with someone else?"

She nodded. "Just...no sneaking around." Her smirk returned when he admitted that though one part of him hated that, the other part liked it. "Agreed. Because you're not going to lose me John, I promise. If listening to you mumble in your sleep for a hundred and fifty years hasn't driven me away, nothing will." Jenny squeezed her husband's hand and nodded as he laid out the rules. "And vice-versa. I have to tell you if I'm looking and you have to tell me if you're with the same person more than once. Though I don't think we should rule it out if they're an interesting person, or a particularly good lover, but we each definitely need to tell one another. No hiding any liaisons from one another either, especially if they're unplanned. Communication is key in this."

Jenny glanced over Jack's shoulder, as she had been doing periodically since he had relaxed into the idea, then returned her eyes to his and leaned in. "And I'm communicating to you right now that there's a sailor who's been eyeing me since we came in," she murmured to him, "though I don't know whether he'd sleep with a woman who's spoken-for. If that's alright with you." And she meant it. The blond sitting a few tables behind them and looking like a Norse god was attractive, broad-shouldered, well-muscled, and when he'd stood up he looked to clear John's head by at least half a foot, and Jenny had every intention of climbing that tree only if her husband agreed to it. If he would rather wait, there were plenty of other men in plenty of other places.
 
"They were my friends, Jenny!" John said, sounding offended. "I liked them, quite a lot. It never mattered to me that they were whores, because I knew them as people!" Damn. He was actually a little pissed off, at Jenny's off-handed dismissal of them. "Maybe they weren't the prettiest of women, but... well, that isn't always the most important thing, is it?"

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to take a drink and relax. "I'm... sorry, Jenny. It's just... you never got the chance to get to know them, the way I did. And I've always stood up for my family, and they were that close. But... Anne Mria? Oh! Angelica!" He shook his head. "Oh, sure, she was attractive. But she, well, even if I'd been in the market it would have been awkward to go after someone our son went after."

He scratched his head. "That's something to think about, actually. If... if we go through with this, well, we could find ourselves related to some of our lovers."

From there he went into his explanation of what he saw as the necessaries. Honesty. Openness. Telling each other about their affairs. Jenny nodded, agreement, and expanded on them. "And vice-versa. I have to tell you if I'm looking and you have to tell me if you're with the same person more than once."

A nod. "Of course, yes. They were examples, not a division of responsibilities. And..."

"Though I don't think we should rule it out if they're an interesting person, or a particularly good lover, but we each definitely need to tell one another. No hiding any liaisons from one another either, especially if they're unplanned. Communication is key in this."

John raised his mug, and clinked it against Jenny's. "Communication," he agreed, in a sort of toast. Downing his beer, he looked a little thoughtful. "Of course, now that we've agreed to this, how do we actually go about doing it? I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a trifle rusty at this courting business."

Jenny glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in conspiratorially. "And I'm communicating to you right now that there's a sailor who's been eyeing me since we came in," she murmured to him, "though I don't know whether he'd sleep with a woman who's spoken-for. If that's alright with you."

Jack turned and looked. The man was tall and fair-haired, with a touch of stubble. And even in his heavy, warm clothing, he looked like a slab of muscle. He felt butterflies leap and dance in his stomach, and tried to take a sip to quell them. Sadly, the beer was gone. "Why," he breathed, "is the beer gone?" Then he looked at Jenny, watching the fire in her eyes as she eyed the man - not the sort of hunger he was accustomed to seeing when he made love to her. That he hadn't seen in decades, at least. A thrill of jealousy danced along his nerves, but it was compounded with the mad idea to take her here and now. To fuck her wildly in front of the whole tavern.

He leaned forward. "And I'm communicating," he murmured for her ears alone, "that it's all right with me."
 
Jenny set her jaw in that sort of way when John claimed the two whores as "that close" as family. It didn't bother her that they were whores, but that he'd had a family when he was out gallivanting with their ilk and had seemingly refused to come home. He'd refused to just accept it, to accept Anne's condition as God's will and to just spend as much time with her as he could. No...she couldn't think that way anymore. She'd prayed for the strength to forgive him for that and after fifty years she finally had; she wasn't going to drag it up again.

"That's something to think about, actually. If...if we go through with this, well, we could find ourselves related to some of our lovers."

Jenny shrugged. "I've got all those pictures tacked up in the hold," she offered. "Whenever we get news of a new one, or that one of them's moved or something, I'll tack up a piece of parchment with it and we can check at every port just to make sure."

Ground rules were laid down and they toasted to it, though Jenny was certain they'd probably forgotten something. Well, they would make up rules as they went, she supposed. Her eyes widened when Jack turned and she pulled at his shirt collar to make him turn back around.

"No don't look!" she hissed. "He'll know!" The sailor hadn't seen Jack turn around but again turned his sharp eyes to Jenny. He raised his mug to her with a mischievous sort of smile and she looked away with a blush though she only averted her gaze for a few seconds. There was a dark sort of fire in her husband's eyes as she watched him watching her, of the sort she hadn't seen in years. He looked for a moment as though he were going to say no, then leaned forward to tell her that it was alright.

"Well then in that case," she murmured back, "I'm going to slap you and bugger off to the bar. I don't think he'll approach if I'm with you. I'll try to find a place in town so it'll be easier for you to sneak in and watch if you want." Jenny took a deep breath and held it for a moment before slowly releasing it. "I love you John Sparrow. With all the madness in my soul."

She gave him a quick grin before forcing it into a scowl and slapping him, tossing the rest of her beer in his face before stalking off to the bar. There were butterflies in her stomach as she glanced over at the blond sailor again then turned away, trying to look upset. Jenny hadn't courted in centuries; the last time she'd picked up a man in a pub that man had become her husband, and she had been the server. Her breast heaved as she took several deep, calming breaths and tried to remind herself that she wasn't getting a soul mate this time; it was just a bit of fun. The idea of sex as "just a bit of fun" was alien and terrifying but at the same time thrilling. Even so, Jenny wasn't really the type to make a first move. She waited for the sailor.
 
"And I love you, Jennifer Sparrow. Bidy and soul. ForeverOW!" Jenny's hand cracked across his cheek, and beer was in his face, and generally speaking he had a miserabke few minutes. Much to the amusement of the other patrons. Letting their laughter roll off him, he rubbed his cheek. "I may have deserved that," he remarked aloud, to more laughter. Then he signaled for another round and shifted his chair, giving him a giid view of the reflected action.


He'd been watching her all evening, and she knew it. More than knew it, really. She'd been watching him, appraising him, every time she could manage a glance without her man observing. The idea wasn't new to him, of course. He'd been looked in with favor by many women in his life, after all. And the way she looked at him, inviting him with those dark green eyes, he'd considered approaching her and to hell with her man!

Except that her man was a killer. He'd seen men like thst before, men who could kill without hesitation. Foppish in mannerism, yes. But dangerous. He had no desire to court death for a piece of ass.

But then they quarreled! They must have, because she slapped him and threw her drink in his face, then stalked off to the bar. He watched her stalk, appreciating the sway of her generius hips and the fire in her proud stance. She woukd be a wildcat in bed, he knew. Fierce and demanding and insaitable. A woman who could be exhausted but never conquered.

God, but he wanted her. Wanted to explore the lush body beneath thise warm clothes, to use her and be used by her until they could no longer move. The thought swelled and hardened his loins and he rose as she stopped at the bar. He could see her face in the mirror, dark green eyes glittering with rag and ripe bosom swelling with passion. "Dobryj vecher, prekrasnaja ledi,," he purred in a deep, rich baritone. "On mazhet kupit' varn vypit?"

Her expression was puzzled, and he smiled. "Ah, my apologies. You are... Amerikan, da? In English, then: good evening, beautiful lady. May I be buying you a drink?"
 
Here he came. Oh God he was actually coming over. Jenny glanced at him one last time before turning to the mirror in the bar. She looked like she was going to be sick...she felt like she was going to be sick! This wasn't right. She shouldn't be doing this. But oh God how he could pin her against the wall and take her...how good it would feel to push him on his back and ride him. John had even in his old age always been muscled and tall, but also always lean. This man was broad, a mountain, and Jenny focused on how it might feel to be held in arms that didn't feel like she could break them if she took a hammer to them, in holding a man with a chest so broad and muscled she couldn't wrap her arms all the way around him. She took yet another deep breath to steel her resolve.

"Huh?" Great. She hadn't been paying attention and now her first impression was that she was an idiot. He'd said something about buying her a drink, she knew, but she hadn't been even so far east as Poland in years.

"Ah, my apologies. You are...Amerikan, da? In English, then: good evening, beautiful lady. May I be buying you a drink?"

"Oh." She smiled. "Moy russkiy rzhavyy," she finally answered, "no pozvonit' mne Amerika yeshche raz , i vy budete s napitkom v litso slishkom." Jenny smirked in what she hoped was a sultry way, though she knew she likely still looked a little nauseated. "But yes, you may buy me a drink, Gospodin...?" She waited for him to fill in his name, then recovered her usual smile and shook his hand. "My name's Jenny."
 
The man took Jenny's hand in a gentle grip, but there was no mistaking the power in them. He shook once, then raised her fingers to his lips. "Anton," he murmured. "My name is Anton, Jenny."

She was not a small woman, he knew, but he towered above her. At nerely seven feet tall, her lips were about even with the botgom of his ribcage, a thought that he found appealing. She would be light in his arms, he new, for all the lushness of her body. He looked her over, frankly admiring her creamy, freckle-dusted fac the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Light, yes, he decided. Light enough that he could hold her with one hand, standing upright as he took her.

"I see you are having beer. I am having you, too." He let that hang for a moment. "My apologies," he then added, his gaze in her face and breasts making it clear that he wasn't apologizing, "my English is also, as you say, rusty. I am, like you, having beer as well."

His massive hand clapped on the bar. "Two beers!" he called. Then he glanced over at Jack. "But... I intrude. Your man, I should not interfere."
 
By now she would have told him to get knotted. It took all Jenny had not to inform him that she was married, as she usually did, and instead she fiddled with her wedding ring. It helped to imagine him pinning her against the wall and she shifted as the thought aroused her. Then he began openly staring at her breasts and the idea of tying his hands to the bedpost as punishment for being obscene in public became appealing.

Unlike John, Anton didn't know that she had a penchant for restraints; a short woman like her, not particularly strong-looking, might be expected to be bound but not to bind. The question became whether to lull him into a false sense of security with the former, or to allow his domination as reward for good behavior during the latter.

Anton's English "slipped" and the blush at the implication wasn't entirely forced. He ordered two beers and she smiled. "Thank you, Anton. Though, I do generally enjoy something a little harder..." She let that innuendo hang between them for a few moments. When Anton looked away she subtly pulled her blouse down just a little, giving him just a little bit more temptation. Then she followed his gaze and winked at her husband behind Anton's back. She could only imagine what Jack would do to her in a fit of jealousy once they'd left the Russian sailor behind. Already her thighs quivered at the thought.

"But... I intrude. Your man, I should not interfere."

"Stay..." Her small hand rested on his thick wrist and Jenny batted her eyelashes at the enormous Russian. She wondered whether all of him were so proportionally huge as her fingers curled around that wrist. "He's got no problem interfering. Besides, he's already seen me talking to you; I can't imagine what he'll do."

Pull back, pull back! a little voice warned her. If she made Jack out to be horribly abusive then Anton might feel obligated to go pick a fight, or even try to kill him. That would be disastrous. She cleared get throat and tried again.

"What I mean is he's very... Strict." Oh God now he sounded like her pimp! "He expects me to follow rules he doesn't even follow himself, I mean. Doesn't like me talking other men. But I'm feeling a might rebellious." She smiled in what she hoped was a charming manner. "So... Are you a sailor then? That must be such an exciting life!"
 
"A sailor, da. But it is not such an exciting life, fishing and hauling. But it is a hard life, and it makes men hard." His icy eyes traced the exposed curve of her breasts as he said it, and he imagined how they would feel beneath his hands. "Hard men, who must stay up for hours as the ship rolls and moves beneath them. She is willful, the ship. Willful, and demanding. And yet, these hard men come down to her and bring her home day after day."

His eyes strayed to the lean, dark killer that she acknowledged as her man, and he snorted with contempt. "Strict. Does not wish you to talk to other men, and yet will talk with other women all the night while his woman languishes, alone and unloved. Yes, I know his type Jenny - do I take liberties, calling you by name? No? I am glad."

He took a pull from his mug. "I do not fear him, this strict man of yours. He is a killer, yes, but I fear him not. Let him see us talk, Jenny. You need not fea, not when Anton is with you. For I am a hard man, da? And if you desire it, I will see you home."
 
The corners of Jenny's lips curved into a smirk as he insisted that sailing and fishing made men hard. Oh she knew that well enough. He described how he was able to go for hours, to bring her home and contend with her will. She wasn't sure he really realized just what he was getting himself into. As he spoke her hand slid up his arm to his enormous bicep where she could feel the muscle even beneath his layers of warm clothing. She glanced over to Jack again and smiled before returning her attention to the Russian.

"Well, you certainly seem strong enough to handle such a willful, demanding ship," she said. With her free hand she took a long pull from her mug. "But I wonder if you could handle her skillfully enough to bring her into port all on your own every time?" She squeezed his arm gently as Anton's eyes strayed over to Jack, shaking her head 'no' when he asked whether he took liberties calling her by her first name. She hadn't given a surname; what else was he supposed to call her?

"You'd do that for me?" Jenny's eyes grew wide. "Oh Anton you're so sweet. You know what? To hell with it!" She tossed back the rest of her drink and slammed down her mug. "Let him see us talk. Let him watch you see me home! Well I mean, not home exactly. We ah, we're just staying here for a few days. But y'know, home-for-now." She was starting to babble again. In an effort to stop herself she wrapped her small fingers around the edge of his enormous hand before looking up into his sharp eyes with an air of feigned innocence as she asked, "Will you take me home, Anton?"
 
"Da!" Anton exclaimed, downing his drink. "To hell with him!" A low chuckle escaped him as she began to babble, and he reached out and took her hand. "And let him see me take you home," he murmured, pulling her close with a deceptively gentle gesture. Her body leaned against his, supple through her warm clothes, and his lips brushed hers. His breath was hot on her face, and he tasted of the beer he'd been drinking. "I will take you home, Jenny. If it takes hours, I will take you home."

There was a hunger in his gaze as he stared into her moss-green eyes, a hunger that was matched by her own. It may take all night, you understand? To see you properly home? And there are many ways to see you there." He glanced towards her man then kissed her far more brazenly, his hard callused hands cupping her face as his tongue explored her mouth. "You are feeling rebellious, da? Shall I take you? Or would you prefer to remain here, with your strict man"



Jack shifted awkwardly, watching the huge Russian kiss Jenny. Emotions seethed through him, mostly a mingled cocktail of jealousy and arousal. Right now, he could cheerfully murder the man. But at the same time, he was rock hard at the mere thought of seeing them together. At the anticipation of watching Jenny fuck another man, of wondering how it would look. Wondering how they would do it?

"God," he muttered, "I need another drink."
 
Jenny blushed deeply as his lips brushed hers and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. She suddenly felt very hot all over and needed to take off a few layers. This was really happening, she was really going to sleep with another man. Only the second man in all her life to see her naked, to touch her intimately with her express permission. The very thought made her chest feel like an iron band had been wrapped around it and she struggled to keep her mask of composure even through her arousal at the same idea.

"It may take all night, you understand? To see you properly home? And there are many ways to see you there." Jenny nodded that she understood. Anton cupped her face and kissed her deeply, but while she kissed him back her hands couldn't quite find purchase on her shoulders and had to reach far up even with him leaning down to reach his neck. "You are feeling rebellious, da? Shall I take you? Or would you prefer to remain here, with your strict man?"

Jenny glanced over at her husband, not so certain anymore about her proposal. There was rage in his eyes, but by the way he was sitting she knew he'd have a hard time concealing his arousal when he stood. She looked back to Anton and there was a thrill of mystery in knowing that he was hard only by the way he held her, no bulge visible through his thick winter pants. Her heart skipped a few beats and her stomach fluttered as she bought time by brushing a lock of hair out of Anton's eyes then resting a hand against his cheek.

"I'd like to see you try to take me," she finally challenged with a mischievous smirk. She leaned in as though to kiss him, but their lips brushed with only the ghost of a kiss before she backed away with a playful grin and took his hand. Jenny exchanged a significant look with her husband as they passed him on their way into the cold, still night.

"Jaysus," Jenny murmured, her face instantly numb despite how hot it had been only moments ago. The biting cold was alleviated somewhat when she pulled up her fur-lined hood then took Anton's hand. "Hadn't found a place to stay yet," she informed him, refusing to bring him aboard the Pearl for several reasons, not the least of which that it was their home and regardless of how loose her morals had become she wouldn't defile their marriage bed. "Think there's an inn up this way though--Ooof!"

In the dark the icy patches in the cobblestone streets were difficult to see and Jenny landed on her rear on an ice slick. She laughed and took Anton's hand to help her clamber to her feet, but seemed skilled in finding the hidden patches of black ice. Though she didn't fall again the fourth time she nearly lost her balance Anton picked her up with one hand as easily as if she were a ragdoll, making her laugh harder.

"Anton! Put me down!" Jenny put up a token struggle, but didn't wriggle too hard in his grasp; only enough to make him want more. "You don't know the way! Do you?" Let Jack see this, she supposed, and work to make her laugh again the way he had when they were kids.
 
Anton caught Jenny easily as she slipped, stooping to curl one arm around her waist to steady her. Then he lifted, swinging her legs up so that she was cradled in his arms. "Of course I know the way," he laughed, powerful arms firm about her as she writhed and 'struggled' against him. "An... inn, you say? I know of a hotel, not far from here. Come, I take you there."


Tossing a handful of rubles on the table, John slipped out into the bitterly cold night. It was only half-past six by his watch, but December this far north stayed dark most of the day. He shivered, drawing the hood of his parka up, then trailed after Jenny and... Anton? Yes, he was sure that was his name.

She slipped, more than once, and fresh jealousy coursed through his veins as the big man caught and lifted her. But then, he heard her laughter. Wild and free, like silver bells in the darkness, and it gave him pause. She loved him, he knew that. Even without her assurances in the bar. But... when was the last time she'd laughed like that?

The jealousy faded, a little. He'd still have to get used to this, he reflected as he followed them. But her joy was certainly making it feel easier.


Despite the struggles that made her writhe so pleasantly against him, Anton didn't put her down until they had entered the hotel. It was a two-story structure of brick, warmed by a coal stove and lit with whale-oil lamps. Anton kissed her as he set her down, hands wandering a little, then approached the attendant. "A room."

The man looked from Anton to the slightly disheveled Jenny and back. "Name?"

Anton looked to Jenny, a sly smile on his face. "Smith. Mistercand Missus Smith."

"Sign here, Mr... Smith." It was clear from his tone of voice that he didn't believe the name. "You'll be in room 6, top of the stairs and end of the hall on the left."

"Da," Anton acknowledged cheerfully, taking the key. Then he scooped Jenny up again. "Coming, Missus Smith?" he asked as he headed for the stairs.


"A room, please," John called, swaying a little with the rolling gait he'd never managed to lose.

"Name?" the attendant pulled his attention from the stairs to ask the question.

"Why, mate, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." There was no response, and Jack sighed a little. Fame and glory were fleeting.

"Room four. Up the stairs, on the left."



The room was dark when he carried her in. Reluctantly he set her down, and light flared with the rasping sound of a lit match. As he lit the room's oil lamp, the yellow glow revealed a small space, with a double bed and a dresser and a nightstand, and a door to the adjoining room that - most likely - could be locked from either side.

Anton scooped her up again, hands hard on her rear as he ravaged her mouth with his. Her feet landed on the ground again as his strong fingers worked at the buttons of her parka, and then one hard hand was cupping her breast as his tongue thrust into her mouth once more. "God," he growled, tossing her parka to the floir and tugging at her blouse. "I want you, Jenny. I want you now!"
 
Hotels. They were hotels now. It was little things like this which worried Jenny that people would realize they didn't belong in this time or place, that they should have been dead more than a hundred years by now. Still, determined to enjoy herself she pushed the thought aside for now; there would be time for brooding later, now was the time for making merry with a complete stranger. Her laughter echoed through the mostly empty streets as Anton carried her to the hotel. It had been a long time since she'd laughed like this.

The hotel was warm and inviting, but when Anton gave their name as Mr. and Mrs. Smith it gave Jenny pause. When they'd first started this office and had need to give their name, Jack had always told them they were Mr. a Mrs. Smith. They'd used Smith until Captain Jack Sparrow had faded into legend. But then Anton beamed down at her and she grinned back, willing to be Mrs. Smith again for a time. She laughed again as he scooped her up.

"It doesn't look like you're giving me much choice, Mister Smith," she giggled as he carried her bridal style up the stairs. "A girl could get used to being carried everywhere though."

The room was comfortable enough, though a bit chilly, and Jenny managed to stealthily unlock a door that appeared to lead to an adjoining room before Anton lifted her again--he seemed to be fond of picking her up--this time to kiss her. She groaned against his lips, sliding her arms around his neck as she thrust her tongue into his mouth. He tasted so different from her husband... But tonight different was what she craved. Her feet found the ground again and Anton only released get body from his just far enough to unbutton her parks as she shed her gloves and boots. She grinned and chuckled against his lips as she began tugging off his outer layers.

"And you think I'll just give it to you like a common whore?" she teased. "Apparently they don't have foreplay in Russia." Jenny pushed his parka off of his broad shoulders, kissing across his chest and stomach at eye level through his shirt while she unbuttoned his pants. "You expected fucking me would be just as effortless as taking me home, da?" She grinned up at him cheekily while slipping her hand into his undone pants. Her eyes widened a little and her mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise when she curled her fingers around his shaft.

"Ooh..." She licked her lips absently, performing as much for John as for Anton as her cool, strong, confident hand moved up and down his length. "Enough to spear me to the wall, I dare say..."
 
"Oh, we have foreplay in Russia, krasivaya devushka," Anton assured her, moving his arms to allow her to remove his coat and unbutton his flannel shirt. His eyes closed for a moment as her fingers closed around his shaft. Enjoying her reaction, he pushed his hips forward into her hand. "Spear you to the wall, Jennyasha? What of this foreplay you demand?" He tugged at the lacings of her vest and worked the buttons of her blouse, allowing his callused hands to caress the soft flesh of her bare breasts. Hard thumbs circled the stiffened peaks, and he licked his lips approvingly. Then he gripped her hips and lifted her, seating her on the dresser.

"In Russia," he laughed, digging into his parka, "the word for foreplay is vodka!" He flourished a bottle in his hand, unstoppering it and taking a swig. Rather than swallow, though, he stepped forward and kissed her. The mouthful of vodka was sharp on his lips as it filled her mouth and trickled down her chin to drip onto her breasts. "Oh, my!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I've spilled it!" His tongue traced her lips and then he kissed down her chin and throat, sucking gently to remove the vodka.


Carefully, Jack opened the door just a crack. There was Jenny and Anton, he naked to the waist and her shirt open as she sat on the dresser. Her breasts glistened, and as he watched Anton kissed his way down her throat and caressed her chest with his tongue, tracing her lips with the pad of his thumb. Then he rose, holding a bottle to her lips and encouraging her to drink. All in all, it should have felt wrong. Standing in the dark, watching through a cracked door as another man explored his wife. But Jenny glanced his way, meeting his eyes for a moment, and all he could think of was just how fucking erotic she looked. Wanton and abandoned, transforming foreplay into performance art.

Watching, his hand stroked his hard shaft through his pants.



"Your turn," Anton rumbled, holding the bottle to Jenny's lips. Just before she could take a sip, he twisted his wrist. The vodka, cold from the bottle, splashed over her chest again. "How clumsy I am!" he gasped, watching her reaction. "Allow me." Stooping a little, he set the bottle aside and cupped her slick flesh with his hard hands, lifting her breasts to his mouth. His lips were hot on her skin as he sucked and nipped, and he squeezed gently as he lapped and drank the alcohol from her body.
 
His torso was every bit the slab of muscle it had appeared to be beneath the flannel and fur. Her free hand splayed out over his stomach, sliding up his chest. John had always been toned and well-defined but Anton was built, muscles moving under skin like a powerful stallion. God she couldn't wait to have him! But she did demand foreplay.

"Oh I didn't say I'd let you spear me, moy krasivyy Antosha," she teased back with a grin. Jenny bit her lip as he pushed his hips into her hand and pressed her chest out into his hand as he circled her hard nipples with his thumbs. She whooped in surprise and laughed when he lifted her and set her on top of the dresser. Her feet dangled and she kicked them a little while he stepped away to dig in his parka. "Vodka hm? I'll have to remember that word."

But when he took a swig he kissed her and she accepted the mouthful of alcohol, swallowing what she could and letting the rest spill over her throat and breasts. Jenny laughed along with her new lover, biting his lower lip gently then running her fingers through his hair as he sucked the vodka from her flesh. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the door open a crack and looked over the top of Anton's head. There was her husband, watching her through a crack in the door like some perverted peeping Tom and it was fucking sexy. Her eyes met his and the corners of her lips quirked up into a coquettish smile before she pressed her breasts more firmly against Anton's lips and groaned as she ran her fingers through her hair again.

"Your turn."

Jenny tried to take a sip from the bottle but he twisted his wrist and spilled more chilly booze over her skin. Her nipples hardened more from the cold and she gasped, laughing. She groaned as his lips left burning trails down her skin, drinking the vodka from her skin. She bit her lip and moaned, taking a deep breath and letting her head loll.

"Mmmm Antosha..." she moaned, wrapping her legs loosely around his ribcage, which was about level with the top of the dresser. "Your personal stopka, hm?" She pulled her face up to look at her. "Drink from me Antosha." Jenny pulled him forward to kiss him deeply, thrusting her tongue into his mouth hungrily.
 
Now it was Anton's turn to groan, the basso sound rumbling against her lips as her tongue explored his mouth. He sucked greedily, tasting the traces of hard liquor blended with her own exotic spice, grabbing fistfulls of curly copper hair to demand more. She tightened her legs, heels pressing into her back as her long skirts rode up, grinding herself into the hard plains if his belly. "Stopka?," he murmured. "Perhaps, igrushka. But I will drink from you, Jennyasha. My own chasha ljubvi."

His lios found hers again, pushing her back against the wall with his passion. He kissed her lips, her chin, her throat, and the skin between her ample breasts. Drawing back he trickled vodka into that valley and folliwed the rivulets of liquor with his tongue, kneeling to circle her navel with his tongue and kiss the taut flesh of her stomach.

As he kissed her, staring uowards at her from his knees, his rough hands followed the curve of her thighs upwards, bunching her skirts around her hips and leaving her legs bare. He grinned wolfishly as his fingers curled into the waist if her panties. Waiting a scant few seconds to see if she'd object, his biceps bulged. There was a sound if rending cloth, and he tossed the torn, damp cloth aside.

"Drink from you, Jennyasha?" he purred, breath hot on her bared, glistening sex. "As you wish." Rough hands slid up her belly to cup her breasts as he leaned forward, dragging his tongue up the length of her slit. "Finer than the finest wines," he murmured, squeezing her breasts and roughly caressing her nipples with his thumb. His tongue stroked her again, circling the tender flesh if her clit before sucking gently at her. "A man could grow drunk on such a draught. But, I am being greedy!"

His tongue caressed her lips again, spreading them and exploring the secrets within. One hand abandoned her breast, nails scraping lightly over skin, and then a finger sank into her folds. It wot,rked in and out, stroking her inner walls as his lips and tongue toyed with her clit, and then a second joined in. Then he withdrew the fingers, breathing deeply of her scent befire bringing his glustening hand to her lips. "I do not think of myself as greedy, Jennyasha." The wolfish grin returned. "Taste for yourself."
 
The wall was colder than the vodka when he pushed her across the top of the dresser and pressed her against the wall. Jenny made a noise of surprise then gripped fistfuls of his hair and ground herself against him. He was just so...massive! Her breath hitched when more vodka was trickled across her skin and he followed it down, down, down...

Jenny wasn't surprised to find his face between her thighs. He gripped the waist of her panties and she smiled down at him, lifting her rear a little so he could easily pull them off. She yelped in surprise, then laughed when Anton decided instead to literally tear them off of her body. She giggled like she hadn't in years, tugging lightly at his hair.

"Drink from you, Jennyasha? As you wish."

"Glupyy Antosha," she giggled. "Sil'nyy Antosha...moy Antosha-aaah!"

Jenny gasped and arched her back when Anton's tongue slid along her crease. He said something but she couldn't quite focus on what since his lips brushed her sex whenever they moved. One hand slid down her body and when Anton slid his fingers in and out of her she gasped and pulled his hair, pressing his face more insistently to her pussy. Jenny let her head loll to the side and found her husband's gaze again, biting her lip and moaning even as she looked at him while he watched her being pleasured by another man. There was something so inexplicably erotic about the entire thing.

But then she had to bring her attention back to Anton, who was pressing two thick, calloused fingers to her lips. Jenny moaned as she sucked on them both suggestively, running her tongue between the two digits. They tasted tangy, but somehow different than when John had done the same thing. She hadn't realized how differently someone else could taste.

"God I can't wait to take you," she murmured against his fingertips, the idea of riding such a stallion making her ache. Jenny fisted her hands in his hair again and pulled him to her, kissing him hard and aggressively pressing her tongue into his mouth, grinding suggestively against him. She'd almost had enough foreplay with this seductive giant.
 
John watched wide-eyed as Jenny sucked at Anton's fingers, staring right at him as she did. There was a little smile on herlios as her head moved on those large fingers, and she continued to meet his gaze. She was clearly enjoying herself, enjoying using Anton to put on a show as much as she was enjoying the big man's carnal attentions.

He was past jealousy now, too turned on to do anything but watch Jenny use the huge Russian to pleasure herself. Holding her gaze, he slowly undid his fly and gripped his engorged erection, giving her a glimpse of just hiw much he appreciated her performancen.



Anton let Jenny drag him up, his tongue playfully dueling with hers as she drank her flavor from his lips. His hands were everywhere, fisting in her skirts, caressing her sides, roughly cupping her breasts, cradling her face. "Almost ready " he panted as they gasped for air. "Then Jennyasha, you need more foreplay..." He gripped the bottle amd took a mouthfull of the vodka before kissing her once more. The icy burn of the liquor contrasted with the heat of his tongue as it flowed from his mouth to hers. Then he offered the bottle to her, trailing the chill glass over the skin of her neck and between her breasts after she swalliwed.

"How should I take you, Jennyasha?" he purred, gently pressing her breasts around the unyielding glass of the bottleneck. "Like this, perhaps? Allowing you to drink from me, as I drank from you?"

Then he laughed, setting the bottle aside and lifting her. His hands were rough on her bare ass as he pressed her against the wall, the blouse she still wore her only protection from the chill of the wall. He shifted her, his thick cock sliding over her soaking pussy as he rubbed himself against her. "Speared against the wall, da?" His length slid over her, dragging sensually against her clit as he moved. "Is thatvwhat you want, Jennyasha? To be fucked against a wall by a stranger, knowing your man waits for you? To return to him, your cup filled to overflowing with vodka and cream?"

He kissed her roughly, then pulked her rear away from the wall and bit at her nipples as her back arched. The muscles of his arms and back flexed and bunched as he moved her lips against his shaft. "Will you fuck him, I wonder. Fuck him, while filled with another man's seed? Tell me!" He slammed foreward, pressing her against the wall once more. "Tell me you want me, want me spearing you into the wall as you cum on my thick cock!"
 
Jenny's mouth fell open a little as she watched John stroke his cock. She wasn't sure she'd wanted him so badly in the past three decades as she did just at that moment. The experiment, it seemed, was a raging success. In response she pulled Anton up to her to kiss him fiercely, wanting to sate her burning loins now. When he came up to talk she gasped for air, breasts heaving with the effort. The vodka she swallowed had as little effect on her as the booze from his last kiss; it now took significantly more for the Sparrows to get drunk that it had in life. Although Anton didn't have her immortal constitution, he was Russian and she therefore trusted him to be able to take it without getting sloppy.

"You wish," Jenny smirked as Anton simulated fucking her breasts with the bottle.

She leaned down and closed her lips over the bottleneck, sliding her breasts down it and making Anton laugh. He set aside the bottle and picked her up again. She didn't want him to stop picking her up. Anton easily pinned her to the wall and Jenny moaned when he slid his throbbing shaft over her slick cunt. She bit her lip when he suggested that she'd go back to John with his seed still inside her. He slammed her against the wall again and demanded an answer, but the only answer she could summon immediately was a gasp then a long moan. Her nails pressed gently into his shoulders as he easily held her up, threatening to spear her with his thick cock at any moment.

"Mmmmm...You have such good ideas, moy Antosha," she moaned. "Tomorrow I'll go to him, still filled with your seed, and show him how a real man ought to please his woman." She opened her eyes and lifted her head off the wall, however, to grin at him. "I want you to spear me against the wall, Antosha. I want you to make me scream, to make me cum on your cock over and over...I want you, Antosha. But..." She leaned forward and kissed him. "You still don't get it so easily." Wriggling out of his grasp, Jenny put a hand on Anton's chest and pushed. Of course, she could push the mountain of a man over about as easily as she might be able to push an actual mountain, but with Anton's cooperation she pushed him back onto his back on the bed. Jenny shed herself of her remaining clothes and Anton of his pants.

"I want you, Antosha," she moaned as she mounted the enormous Russian. "I want you spearing me into the wall as I cum on your thick cock...And I don't want that to be the first time you make me cum." Jenny slowly lowered herself onto his shaft, moaning and letting her head loll back. John had always more than satisfied her but the Russian was so different and so...so...right! She splayed her hands out across his chest and moaned more loudly as she began to ride him slowly. "Make me cum on your thick cock, Antosha," she groaned, "then spear me to the wall til you fill me with your seed."
 
Anton could have easily resisted her, and she knew it as well as he did. But he put up just enough of a struggle to give her the feeling of overpowering him as she pushed him away and back onto the bed. The flash of arousal in her eyes as she stripped his pants away, and the haste in which her own clothing joined them, was sufficient reason. And then she was astride him, wringing a moan from his lips as her dripping cunt swallowed his cock and she began to ride him. She leaned forward, profanely demanding he fuck her again and again as her hands caressed his chest.

"You want Anton to fuck you?" he purred, his callused hands scraping her skin as he ran them over her back and ass. "You want to cum on my thick cock, Jennyasha?" His hips rose and fell, slapping into her pelvis as she thrust down onto him and exposing nearly half his glistening length as she rose up again. "You think Anton is your toy, to fuck you as you demand? Hm?"

He dragged her face down to his, driving his cock up into her depths as his tongue filled her mouth. Then he pushed her upright, burying himself to the hilt in hrr body. "Then show me, Jennyasha. Show me how a woman takes her pleaxure from a stranger's cock." His hands slid up her body, cupping her breasts as he rose and fell within her. "Use me to cum, Jennyasha, and I promise you I will use you for mine in return!"


John's hand stroked his length, the flesh rigid and burning hot in his grip. His eyes were glued to Jenny, and he felt drunk on the lust in her eyes and the gasped vulgarities escaping her lips. On the way each of Anton's thrusts made her flesh quiver and her breasts move, and the view of her pussy stretched and dripping around his thick manhood. It was like the times they'd fucked before a mirror, only even more erotic.

"I'd imagine you and Ion sharing me..." she'd said, not long ago. Now that image returned. He imagined joining them, imagined pushing Jenny forward across the big Russian. Imagined her cry of erotic delight as his cock entered her ass and the both of them fucked her, and he had to release his aching shaft to stave off his orgasm.

He met her eyes, half-closed with her pleasure. "I want you," he said silently, exaggerating the movements of his lips so she could see. "Desperatly."
 
"You want Anton to fuck you? You want to cum on my thick cock, Jennyasha?" Anton rumbled, sliding his rough, callused hands down her back to grip her ass.

"Mmm fuck yes..." Jenny moaned, steadying herself on his shoulders as he bucked beneath her. His cock filled her completely and it somehow felt different than the way her husband felt inside of her. It was a feeling of satisfied completeness and as soon as she rose off of his shaft she longed for him to be buried inside her again. One hand slid from his shoulder back up to his hair.

"You think Anton is your toy, to fuck as you demand? Hm?"

Jenny laughed then stilled suddenly, fingers clenching his hair near the scalp as she looked down at him with a firey passion in her eyes. "Baby, I know you are. It's just a matter of how long until you realize it."

In response Anton dragged her down, driving himself into her and making her cry out in pleasure as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Suddenly she was upright again and he demanded that he show her, to use him. Her walls twitched around him just at that, at how easily he begged to be used. She shifted her hips to grind her clit against his shaft as she rode him, slow and hard at first. Her eyes fell on John in the corner, watching them and stroking himself...then he stopped. Jenny almost frowned but then she recognized that look; he was close.

I want you. Desperately.

Jenny smiled and moaned loudly, driving Anton's throbbing cock harder into her cunt as she gripped his hair with both hands. His hands were already there but she pulled his face into her breasts, biting her lip and moaning her pleasure at the way he worshiped them so obediently. I want you inside me, she mouthed back with Anton's face buried in her breasts. She almost wished she hadn't led Anton to believe that she had left her husband behind; she could only imagine what it must feel like, two men moving inside her at once. But this had been experimental, after all, and little-by-little was the way to start.

"Tell me how much you love my cunt, moy zherebets," she demanded. "Tell me all the things you'd do to me in front of my man." The way her clit moved against his shaft was almost too perfect; already she was close, but she didn't want it to be over so quickly.
 
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