This ride had been rocky. She arrived at the terminal late and had been turned away, but one quick call to the island took care of that. She had a singing gig that night at one of the few restaurants that offered live music and it was a crowded week-end, so they escorted her on board quickly and the boat took off. She felt a warm, happy buzz from two small cups of chardonnay as she disembarked. It was the end of spring, and Catalina Island was in full swing.

She grabbed her duffle bag and began walking toward town. Cabbie vans and golf carts struggled for tenure, and several of the drivers waved to her as she passed. She stopped at El Galleon en route to quickly say hello to a few friends, then continued on. It took exactly eight minutes to arrive at the hotel by foot. Shanel stood behind the desk of the old Hotel Avalon, taking a reservation over the phone. She tossed her a room key and within an hour she was bathed, dressed and ready to fly.

It was dark as she walked the narrow and windy downhill street leading to the Parrot Club. It took all of three minutes to get there, and the ocean breeze and twinkling lights enhanced the magic of this small island. The enchanting houses and cottages en route filled her with a sense of not only contentment, but excitement as well. She absolutely loved the tranquility and beauty of this place.

She sang her tan little ass off at the Parrot Club that night. The restaurant and lounge overflowed, and she was definately on. She mingled during her breaks, but the jazz quartet insisted on promptness, so fifteen minute pauses were exactly that. During the last set a long stemmed red rose and a pricey bottle of red wine were delivered to the stage and placed on the piano. The note was signed by someone named Mac, and she knew exactly who he was.

She had been introduced to him earlier in the evening, and he watched her sing all night. He was the captain of a yacht, and quite charming. He was tall, not handsome in the classical sense, but had the authority and confidence she liked in a man. He wasn't really her type, but she found him interesting. Didn't really matter, though... he had departed before she finished the set, accompanied by what she assumed were member's of his crew. The evening wound down, and at 1:00 am. they said goodnight to the audience and began to break down the equipment.

She was never afraid to walk alone this late on the quaint streets of Avalon. There was very little crime, if any, and all the trees and restaurants in the town proper had thousands of little white lights on display. It was enchanting and seductively romantic. She sat on a bench listening to ocean sounds and staring at clusters of lighted yachts in the small harbor. She wondered how many had lovers on board, and whether or not they were appreciative enough to take advantage of this romantic island. The hum of an approacing golf cart disrupted her mood. It pulled up next to her and parked. A muscular and handsome young man appeared before her and wicked thoughts ran through her head. She silently laughed at herself and put them out of her mind. He was too young and she was too wise. He introduced himself as Rick, first mate on The Journey, the 140 foot yacht owned by none other than the good captain himself, Mac. She had to smile. Red rose, designer wine and a first mate stud. What more could a girl ask for.

He extended an invitation from the captain to join them for a nightcap. She was still filled with adrenalin from the excitement of the evening, so she climbed into the cart and within minutes had arrived at the Catalina Yacht Club. It was closed, of course, but Mac apparently had some clout. The darkened club was illuminated by a view of the most spectacular lighted yachts docked outside the large, ocean view window, and a dozen white candles burned on oak and brass inlaid tables. A fireplace roared in the center of the room and gigantic overstuffed pillows surrounded the brick pit. She heard music flow throughout the posh private club and, savoring the atmosphere, she tossed her shoes off and got comfortable.

He sat at the bar drinking Courvoisier and warmly thanked her for coming as she slid onto a the soft leather barchair next to him. Rick filled two more brandy snifters, and sat down to her left. They remained seated for ninety minutes, drinking brandy as they shared stories, and the laughter was never better. The air was suddenly filled with raggae, so she stood up and began to dance before the fireplace. They watched her as she gyrated and sang along with the music, eyes closed. She looked like a gypsy dancing before that fire, Mac thought to himself, as he sipped his drink and stared. Possessed by the music and aroused from the drink, she sensuously lost herself within the rhythm of the music and heat of the flames. She felt a presence close by and, looking up, saw that it was Rick. Mac sat at the bar and watched them intently. They were carried away by the music and the moment, and he began to rub against her as they danced. He slowly began to undress her and removed his own clothing as well as she continued to sway to the beat. Mac took another sip of brandy as they danced half naked before the raging fire, laughing and teasing each other. Another song had begun, some Kenny G thing, and the horn overwhelmed her. She walked over to the bar and held her hand out to the captain. He stood tall, and sweeping her up in a heartbeat, carried her to the cushions surrounding the burning firepit. Rick joined them and watched as Mac first removed her leggings, then her silky thong panties. Her naked body shimmered and glowed next to the flames, and within seconds three naked bodies melted into one.

Rick held her legs apart and buried his face there as Mac straddled her, sliding his cock into her warm mouth. She moaned as they licked and fingered her, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm. The warmth of their naked bodies and the things they whispered to her during the seduction made her burn, and the ensuing ecstasy was something she had never before experienced. Mac slid his tongue into her mouth, sensuously kissing her, as Rick aggressively mounted and entered her. Within moments she was maneuvered sideways, her left leg draped over the first mates waist as he slowly continued to grind in and out of her. It was then she felt the captain plunge into her from behind in one smooth thrust. She moaned loudly and came within seconds. Their rhythm was perfectly in sync and stayed that way for an hour as they moved her with ease into varius erotic positions. Occasionally one would take a break and watch as the other continued to fuck her. She instinctively knew they had done this before, probably many times, but it didn't bother her. In fact, she was grateful for their learned expertise.

Her loud moans echoed as she was taken over, and then over again. And in the end, they exploded simultaneously, she on top of Mac with Rick taking her from behind. She had always heard about this type of sandwich, but had never been brave enough to taste one. She was filled with them, and she knew that once she left the island, she would recall this night many times and crave the sheer decadence of it.

They fell into an exhausted slumber on the big cushions that surrounded the fireplace, keeping each other warm as the flames died down. When she awoke, she was nestled between the captain and his first mate in what she assumed were the captains quarters. She couldn't recall how they arrived there, nor did she care. They were wrapped around her and sleeping peacefully when they felt her stir. And as the vessel began to rock softly with the morning tide, they satiated her silent craving by serving her a breakfast in bed she would be hard pressed to ever forget.