Unknown - The ape girl

The smell of that coal mingled with the sweat of their fine, rippling bodies. The atmosphere was heady inside here. It was going to her head, and elsewhere. She stood with her legs a bit apart and felt a trickle of clear cunt honey escape out the curtain of her cunt lips.

She watched in growing excitation as the men continued their rhythmic shoveling motion. Blair would rather have watched those muscular, sweating bodies work than a corps de ballet go through Swan Lake.

What was it about the dark, shiny faces of those men. The faces so thick and gleaming with a sheen of coal dust and sweat? They were beautiful to her. And the smells their bodies produced were better than any ambrosia. The steamy interior took on a warming glow as the fire in the furnace increased and then subsided again.

"The men work in shifts," Captain Rigby continued, steering Blair around toward another section of the ship's interior. She didn't want to leave that section, but in order to be nice to the man who was showing her around, she conceded to his guidance.

He put a firm hand around her waist and addressed the men… "Keep up the good work, men," he said, barely audible above the grind of the machinery and the blast of the fiery furnace.

Blair looked in their faces once more and shuddered. They were so beautiful, heartbreakingly beautiful. She didn't want to go. Then, just as she turned to leave, one of them caught her eye.

He was a bit shorter and smaller than the rest. But, in proportion, he was enormous. With thick, powerful shoulders and long, massive arms. It looked like he had two bowling balls under his shirt.

His face was thick and fierce-looking with a protruding forehead and deeply-set dark eyes.

His legs were like stubby tree trunks. And she could see by the way his shirt was rolled up to his forearm, that he was covered with a layer of thick, dark curly hair.

That hair sent another set of shudders rushing along her spine and swirling in and out of her cunt crevice. What was it about that kind of primitive-looking man?

The associations of him to the earth, to nature were very strong, but she wasn't quite sure where she had gotten them. Cave men didn't turn her on! She had no wish to be dragged along the rocky ground by her hair and be hauled off to a cave and beaten with a club into sexual submission.

Still, the idea of a hairy, primitive-looking man, a man of the earth and soil, a man unafraid to get his hands dirty or his brow sweaty, a man of iron and grit, that kind of thing truly fascinated her. Fascinated her and turned her on to a boiling rage.

Her mind leaped madly ahead as the captain steered her around the huge, hot furnace and under the heavy, intertwining maze of pipes, tubes, and wires.

"There's much more below deck," the man said, "if you care to see it."

Blair wondered if he had picked up her fading interest the moment they left the furnace room. She didn't want to be unkind, but she wanted to explore it more. Especially those dark, gleaming faces and bodies. And especially that one face.

"Powerful men doing that sort of work," she said to the man guiding her along the narrow footpath between instruments and lighted panels of dials and digits.

"Yes," the captain said, "a good gang this trip."

"How young are those men, usually," she asked, trying to sound disinterested. She wondered how effective it was. She had never been much of an actress.

"Oh, all ages, really," the captain said, nonchalantly walking along, "Anywhere from twenty-one to close to retirement. Once a man builds up body strength and keeps to the work the job demands, it's not hard to stay in physical shape to do it."

"One of them seemed much younger than the rest," she said, feigning academic curiosity, "Is he?"

"You mean Potter," he said, "Yes, you must mean Potter. The short fellow with the long arms."

"I guess so," Blair said, hearing her unconvincing voice echo in the tight ship compartment.

"Potter's a good worker, but a sad case, actually."

"Oh?" she said, unable to stop the flow of questions from coming out her lips. "How so?"

"Abandoned at birth, beaten and abused in public schools, came to us from England, actually," the captain said, shuffling along.

"But he works well here?"

"Oh, yes, devoted to his job. Something of a social outcast though. Perhaps you noticed all that hair on his hands and arms. And elsewhere. Apparently he's covered with it. Parents took it rather hard. As though he were some kind of freak or something, so I understand."

"That's very cruel of them," Blair said, noting the defensive tone of her voice.

She gripped the captain's arm as he steered her through another maze of multicolored wires and dials. The whole place was starting to look like an endless sea of machinery.

"Well, at least the men below accept him," Captain Rigby said, "He's not judged down there for how he looks anyway."

"That's good," Blair said, feeling a little relieved.

The thought of that young man being mistreated because of the way he looked, because he was coated with a covering of natural, beautiful hair, really made her angry.

And thinking about him made her hot, too. Hot and jittery. She couldn't calm down. The man continued his guided tour of the underbelly of the ocean vessel, and in less than fifteen minutes, they were above deck again.

"Enjoy your visit below?" Dr. Fortner asked his daughter over dinner.

The two of them had been asked to join Captain Rigby at the captain's table in the dining room. It was a sumptuous dinner. Beautifully prepared and impeccably served. The company wasn't bad either. Blair had even gotten into a dress for the occasion. A longish blue chiffon thing with a rather low neckline. More than a plunge, and less than a deep sea dive. But she had felt like getting dressed up. Something. Anything to distract her mind from that haunting dark face of the young man shoveling coal below.

As the other guests at the table spoke, she found herself wondering if he was even now below shoveling coal into the furnace that kept the ship going. Working so diligently down there, so quiet and smooth, that nobody even thought about what was making this huge tub speed along as it was.

"Yes," Blair said, nodding to her father, "I enjoyed it. I thought it was quite interesting. There is an awfully lot of equipment down there nobody even has the chance to find out about. I was one of the lucky passengers today."

"Thank you, my dear," Captain Rigby said, "Your daughter seemed especially interested in the boiler room. That's one spot most people don't find entertaining."

"I don't understand why anyone would even want to go down there," a stuffy, high-born type said, nodding her head in the captain's direction.

Her name was June Balfours and Blair had only been introduced to her ten minutes ago and she couldn't stand the sight of her already. She was a gossipy nuisance.

"Not everybody likes riding along unaware of what's going on below," Blair snapped back. She hoped her voice didn't sound too harsh, but the woman was giving her a pain.

She moved her mashed potatoes around with her fork and thought of that sweet, dark haunting face below. She had to see him again. At least before the ship docked.

Later that night, Blair tossed and turned on her bed. There must have been some high waves outside, she could hear them knocking against the bow.

She thought of the engine room. That face. She wanted to be there… she drifted off into a sweet dream that had her and that Potter fellow paired up. But every time he tried to undress her, he would shove her against the hot furnace and she would damned near ignite her fanny.

She sat up with a start and looked out the porthole. The waves were high out there. She couldn't sleep. After trying another dozen positions, she grabbed her trench coat and wrapped it tightly around her naked body.