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Jason had done his obligatory workout in the gym. The crew had moved about him as he strolled about his yacht cooling down, wiping the droplets of perspiration from his face with a sweat towel. He’d said nothing in greeting. Most of the crew were new to him although he’d known Esteban and McKenzie since his first cruise on Sublime . They’d kept their mouths shut over many voyages, having signed the required non-disclosure agreement, an obligation required of all of the crew.
    Esteban, the medic, had been briefed on Jason’s lifestyle preferences on the first voyage many years previously. He had raised his eyebrows at the scant description and shrugged his shoulders with indifference. The girls Jason had brought with him on those earlier cruises had been friendly, pretty, and, for the most part, invisible. What Esteban couldn’t see, he couldn’t judge.
    As the ultimate authority at sea, the captain had also been informed. McKenzie, an ex-Royal Navy officer, had seen a great deal of the world on his travels, including some of the more unsavoury ports. His career in the Navy had ended abruptly when it became apparent he could no longer keep his love life secret. He’d missed his boyfriend, who was a Spaniard he’d met while stationed at Gibraltar.
    Having left the Navy, McKenzie had earned a commission to work on chartered yachts and had been able to see his lover regularly. When Jason requested McKenzie as his captain, the Scot had jumped at the chance. McKenzie, upon their first meeting, had told Jason he wasn’t going to deny any man his sexual desires. Mark McKenzie had been a victim of misunderstandings before, according to the security briefing he had commissioned before hiring the officer.
    Returning to the stateroom after his spell in the gym, Jason found Gemma waiting for him on the sundeck, fresh from her shower, her damp hair glistening in the sunlight. Between them, they said little. The frosty coating on their relationship remained intact. A suitable point in time would arise when he would bring her to heel and test her submission again.
    Ted, the boson, delivered the obligatory safety talk. The evacuation drill, the location of life vests and lifeboats. The contents of the survival kit explained, then how to use a flare and what happened if any unfortunate person happened to fall overboard.
    Leaving the marina, the yacht slowly manoeuvred between other boats and the jetties. Gemma, leaning forward, watched the propeller churn the water into a foam. The crowd waved at the crew, and Gemma, caught up in the moment, waved back. Jason stood unmoved, his hands resting on the rails, eyes shaded with reflective sunglasses. A baseball hat covered his face from the sun and kept his features tucked away out of public view. Unlike Jason, his wife lapped up the attention of the crowds and the excitement of harbour life.
     
    ***
     
    A surprisingly short space of time passed before they hit the open waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The waves lapped at the sides as the yacht moved steadily through the sea. Gemma practised walking up and down the deck, holding the rails, feeling the vibrations as they ploughed through the water.
    “The captain will be taking it slowly for the first couple of days, let us find our sea legs. If you feel seasick, you must say. You can wear a patch if it gets bad,” Jason told her over breakfast.
    “I rarely get travel sickness, in cars, at least.” She hoped she wouldn’t need medication. There were bound to be side effects. “How long will it take to arrive in Ceuta?”
    “By tomorrow, we’re going to track the coast. Take a long route there. Get your sea legs settled.” Jason smeared syrup over his crepe.
    As he requested, she sunbathed naked on the deck under her own smearing of high factor sun cream. Gemma made the most of the good weather. Sea weather, she had been told, was changeable, especially the winds. A breeze blew, but nothing that could whip the page of her book