Free Ivory by Tony Park

ship, even in the roughest conditions.
    She’d finished all the books she’d brought with her and caught up on all her outstanding work. The ship’s satellite email link washer connection to the outside world, but it was painfully slow. She wiped her brow and checked her watch. George was due to call in ten minutes, along with Penfold’s chief financial officer, about the South African deal.
    Jane jogged downstairs again and entered the superstructure via a watertight door. In the companionway inside she turned side on to allow Ferdinand, the Filipino steward, to pass her. He smiled a greeting.
    Jane breathed deep and slow so she wouldn’t sound out of breath on the phone to George – not after the way he’d left her after his last, very pervy, conversation the previous night. She’d never had phone sex before, and the thought of him sitting in his plush office while talking to her that way still provoked a reaction. George, she had come to learn in a very short time, was very adventurous in bed and even more so on the telephone. Some things he’d suggested she had baulked at, telling him she’d be more open to experimentation as they got to know each other better. Much of what they had done, in the company flat in Soho and a luxury hotel suite over the course of three lunch hours, was new to her. She had enjoyed, for example, being tied to a four-poster bed with silken rope that George just happened to have stashed away in a locked cupboard in the flat. That was a first and she’d liked surrendering control to him, briefly. However, she had no desire to be spanked and he seemed to take her firm but polite ‘no thank you’ with good humour, so she didn’t feel she was in any danger with him as a lover. She felt her cheeks redden and concentrated on her breathing.
    She barely noticed the smells and noises of the freighter now: the vague but ever-present odour of engine oil, which had initially made her queasy; the smell of food frying in the galley; the dull throb of the diesels far down below; music coming from an off-duty crewman’s cabin somewhere nearby.
    Inside her cabin was as drearily familiar as the rest of the ship. The endless expanse of ocean out through the portholes had ceased to be calming or awe-inspiring. It was just plain monotonous.
    Jane pulled the band from her ponytail and teased out her hair, enjoying the cool of the airconditioning. The satphone was on the bedsidetable and she took it to the small desk in the sitting room and opened and switched on her laptop in case she needed to make notes during the conversation. The phone rang, and she recognised George’s private line on the caller-ID.
    â€˜Hiya,’ she said.
    â€˜Tell me you’re naked.’
    â€˜Me naked, you George. Hello, Robert, if you’re there. Are you nude too?’
    George laughed. ‘Bench is dialling in in a couple of minutes.’
    â€˜I noticed you came early. I hope you’re not going to be like that in South Africa.’
    â€˜Who are you, and what have you done with the real Jane Humphries? The prim, straitlaced corporate lawyer I know wouldn’t say such things.’
    â€˜Don’t tease, George. Do you really think I’m straitlaced?’
    â€˜Are you really naked?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Then I fear I’m right.’
    â€˜Don’t be so rude. I’m wearing my workout gear, actually. All hot and sweaty.’
    â€˜Be still my beating –’
    They cut short the banter as a recorded voice, followed by Robert Bench saying his name, told them the chief financial officer had joined their call. ‘How’s life at sea, Jane?’
    â€˜You should try it some time, Rob,’ she said.
    â€˜That bad, eh? No, thanks. I get seasick in a bath. The South Africans have upped their price, George.’
    The CFO was all business, as usual, Jane noted. She was disappointed George had spent their brief time