Free The Brothel Creeper: Stories of Sexual and Spiritual Tension by Rhys Hughes

bunghole in its side, moaning sickly. With powerful strokes Jason reached it, wrenched off the lid, caught a figure that tumbled out, fixed his mouth to hers in a kiss imparting both life and passion.
    “So it didn’t contain rum,” sneered Henrietta.
    “I lied about that,” confessed Jason, after he had finished resuscitating the new arrival, who recovered rapidly and now floated next to her rescuer with a wide smile, holding his hand.
    “ Your secret lover, I take it?” snapped Henrietta.
    “That’s correct,” said Jason.
    “You miserable little hypocrite!”
    Jason chuckled. “Clearly you’re not the only one who knows how to play the game of deceit. I told you I like to take risks but that hint was too obtuse for you. Allow me to introduce you to Isabel. All the time you assumed I was busy with my navigational aids, I was actually enjoying fleshy delights with this young beautiful damsel.”
    Isabel seemed on the verge of apologising.
    But Carlos forestalled her. “Good afternoon,” he said politely. He even bowed, his head dipping under.
    Isabel acknowledged his courtesy. Then she said frantically, “You won’t believe what I saw down there…”
    “A ghost ship?” prompted Jason.
    “No, a ruined city on the seabed far below!”
    Henrietta narrowed her eyes. “How could you possibly discern anything at such a depth, especially from the inside of a sealed barrel? I think you are trying to engineer a distraction.”
    “She sometimes tells white lies,” admitted Jason.
    “Perhaps she hallucinated from lack of oxygen. That’s a more plausible explanation, I think,” said Carlos.
    “How gallant,” mocked Jason.
    “Don’t forget whose secret lover you are!” warned Henrietta.
    “Are you talking to me or him?”
    “That’s your choice, you fickle beast…”
    Jason was at a loss for words.
    But Isabel announced, “I like your dress!”
    “Thank you,” replied Henrietta warily. The opposing couples floated now like two knots in a rope made of words, a rope that would never haul them to the safety of any shore. So they drifted hopelessly, almost as far apart as the bow and stern of the original vessel.
    To communicate they didn’t need to shout. The afternoon air was still too serene. Not a single cloud existed anywhere, no stormy seas were promised. They were destined to drown gently.
    “I love satin too,” declared Carlos.
    Jason nodded. “She bought it while I was negotiating for my yacht. If we go shopping together we argue, so I always let her wander off while I focus on my own business. The São Tomé markets sell anything now, a far cry from the days under the Da Costa government. The boat was a bargain, but I don’t know how much the dress cost.”
    “I didn’t buy it there,” retorted Henrietta.
    Jason was about to question her on this discrepancy when Isabel shrieked. A large suitcase had bobbed to the surface near her and it was emitting faint cries for help. Carlos disengaged himself from Henrietta, reached the item of luggage and deftly opened it. A slim dark girl leapt safely into the sea while the suitcase sank back down.
    “Like an elevator service,” muttered Jason.
    The dark girl smiled sweetly.
    “Who on earth are you?” blurted Henrietta.
    “This is Luana, my mistress. I smuggled her aboard because I can’t live without her,” replied Carlos bravely.
    “But you love my wife, don’t you?” asked Jason.
    Carlos nodded. “Of course. But as she was so unfaithful to you, I worried whether I could trust her. I didn’t want to get hurt and I decided to betray her before she could betray me.”
    Faced with this twisted logic, Henrietta trembled.
    And Jason roared with laughter.
    But his triumph was short lived. A new object was rising rapidly beneath him, an outline too elongated to be anything other than a mythic sea serpent or severed elephant’s trunk. But in fact it was the rolled-up carpet that he had found under the bed in his cabin. During the short