THE DIARY OF ANNALISE

By

Annmarie Ortega

© copyright May 2007, Annmarie Ortega

Cover art by Eliza Black, © May 2007

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

May10,1870

I hate pirates. I hate them with my entire being, to the very depths of my soul. The irony is that I deal with pirates quite often since I own the tavern at Land’s Beach called the Wicked Wench. Pirates never really bothered me too much, though, and I really didn’t start to hate them until two days ago when a group of them decided to kidnap me. Four of them broke into my rooms over the tavern late at night and carried me away like a sack of flour taking me to the docks. Now, I find myself on a small ship at sea headed to only God knows where.

The night I was taken didn’t start out unusual--same old thing, serving drinks, wiping the bar, and having Tom and Pat kick out patrons as they got too boisterous. I was cleaning up and mopping the already wet floor when the last customer was dragged out the door by Tom and Pat. When Old Jones was done washing the last tankard, the three men left, and I made my way upstairs to my living quarters above the tavern.

I went to my table and recounted the night’s earnings, hoping I’d miscounted downstairs. The night’s earnings were pitiful considering how much hard work we’d all done. I muttered my usual oath to my dead father who’d left me high, dry, and in debt, and peeled off my clothing. I washed the day’s grime off at my basin and put on a fresh, clean nightgown, brushed out my long, brown hair and went to bed.

I was exhausted and thought about how in the morning I’d have to have Tom and Pat bring up new barrels of beer from the cellar, and that I would have to start cooking for dinner tonight by myself since I’d had to let the tavern cook go for lack of funds.

I was so tired of the same thing day after day with no end in sight, and it had only been five weeks since my father had passed on. He had done a fabulous job of hiding the tavern’s debts from me. Since his passing, everything had landed squarely on my shoulders.

I was now down to a bare bone crew, keeping Old Jones since he had been friends with my father for as long as I could remember. Tom and Pat were huge, burly men who sat at the front door of the tavern. They enjoyed throwing patrons out on their asses much more than allowing them access inside the Wench.

It was a challenge every day to pay my last three employees. The past two weeks I didn’t have enough money to pay all that I owed. My only plan was to pay what I could and keep getting by on credit as long as I could. There was certainly no way I could ever retire from the profits from the tavern. There were none. My future was bleak.

I lay in bed and thought about the week before and a blush crept into my cheeks as an intense heat overwhelmed my body. I felt my nipples grow erect under my nightgown. My pussy throbbed and when I moved my thighs I could feel the juices from my own arousal. In a rash move, I’d made love with a man whose name I didn’t even know, but it was the most amazing experience of my life and I thought about it every day, reliving it in my mind over and over. My only regret about that evening was not finding out his name.

I fantasized about letting him touch me everywhere, and make love to me every way possible. I dreamed of him deep inside me, shooting his hot seed in me. I dreamed of his mouth licking my pussy, his tongue flicking my clit until all I could do was scream in pleasure. I pictured myself sucking his cock, taking it deep in my throat until I made him orgasm. He’d come so fiercely he’d growl like a wild, untamed beast. I just wish I knew the name of the man I wanted so badly, the man I was madly in love with.

More later. Someone is unlocking the cabin door.