water licking against the side of the hull. Tench potters in the galley and emerges with a bottle of champagne in a handled wine bucket. He’s still smiling as he grabs the picnic basket and places the champagne on top of it. He then leans down at a side cupboard in the main saloon and pulls out a soft blue and white checked picnic rug. I grab my handbag and follow Tench to the back deck,
“Oh, I almost forgot the towels.” He stops and turns to me,
“Can you head down the stairs and the first cupboard directly in front is full of towels. Thanks gorgeous.” He says with appreciation.
I head down to the stairs on the port side of the saloon, to the lower level. It too is beautifully crafted in the same dark wood as the saloon area above. There are a series of doors that lead off the corridor. From what I can see, there are four bedrooms and a bathroom in my immediate view. Whoa! This has to be the most luxurious boat I have ever seen! I quickly grab two large black and white striped beach towels from the cupboard and head back up the stairs to where Tench is patiently waiting for me. He leans in and gives me a quick but enthusiastic kiss, before turning and heading for the stairs. I follow him onto the lower pontoon and watch him skip effortlessly onto the wharf. I hop onto the wharf with ease also and follow Tench onto the grassy island shaded by native trees. A short walk leads us over to the northern tip of the island where a group of wide palm trees swell out of the grass. Walking beyond the palms we throw our blanket and ourselves beside the small strip of sand by the waters edge. The island has a gorgeous unobstructed view over the city and the harbour bridge. In all my time in Sydney, I have neither been to, nor even taken any notice of this secluded little island. Tench places the picnic basket and wine bucket down, and lays out the rug on the grass. He unbuttons his shirt, exposing a glimpse of the inked dragon on his magnificent chest. He sits, and reclines back onto the rug. I roll the towels up and put them at the top of the rug to create two cushions, and I too lean back down next to Tench.
“Drink gorgeous?” He asks as he reaches over to the basket and pulls out two champagne glasses.
“Yes please.”
I lean on my elbows and watch the various water craft pass by the island. I’m not quite sure of why Tench has brought me here, or what his motives are yet again. I attempt to gain some information from him, in order to aid my overactive mind a little.
“So do you do this kind of thing for all the girls?” I ask in a playful way, hoping to lessen the recognition of an interrogation.
“I haven’t, no. You know me Miranda. I’ve never really had to impress women. Specially not a specific individual.” Tench responds without raising his eyes from the champagne he’s pouring.
Did he just say he’s trying to impress me? I guess that’s fairly obvious given the past forty odd hours, but why? Why me? I try and find some clever words to respond to that statement, but my wit deserts me. I take the glass of champagne from Tench’s outstretched hand and take a sip. Staring blankly out into the harbour, I try to seem untroubled by his confession but I can feel Tench staring at me. I daren’t look back at him and maintain my ignorance towards the subject. I just don’t want to know more therefore, I don’t want to ask any further questions. I just have to let my energetic mind make up its own theory and go along with the Joe Tench ride for now.
“Let’s see what Mrs Oktar has packed for us.” Tench says while looking through the picnic basket. He pulls out a round, flat container and takes the lid off to reveal a delicious looking assortment of antipasto. He takes out two small forks made of bamboo and two small matching plates, and places them down on the rug. He also takes out a container of baguettes with lettuce and prawns spilling out of the middle of them, and yet another tray of
“Oh, I almost forgot the towels.” He stops and turns to me,
“Can you head down the stairs and the first cupboard directly in front is full of towels. Thanks gorgeous.” He says with appreciation.
I head down to the stairs on the port side of the saloon, to the lower level. It too is beautifully crafted in the same dark wood as the saloon area above. There are a series of doors that lead off the corridor. From what I can see, there are four bedrooms and a bathroom in my immediate view. Whoa! This has to be the most luxurious boat I have ever seen! I quickly grab two large black and white striped beach towels from the cupboard and head back up the stairs to where Tench is patiently waiting for me. He leans in and gives me a quick but enthusiastic kiss, before turning and heading for the stairs. I follow him onto the lower pontoon and watch him skip effortlessly onto the wharf. I hop onto the wharf with ease also and follow Tench onto the grassy island shaded by native trees. A short walk leads us over to the northern tip of the island where a group of wide palm trees swell out of the grass. Walking beyond the palms we throw our blanket and ourselves beside the small strip of sand by the waters edge. The island has a gorgeous unobstructed view over the city and the harbour bridge. In all my time in Sydney, I have neither been to, nor even taken any notice of this secluded little island. Tench places the picnic basket and wine bucket down, and lays out the rug on the grass. He unbuttons his shirt, exposing a glimpse of the inked dragon on his magnificent chest. He sits, and reclines back onto the rug. I roll the towels up and put them at the top of the rug to create two cushions, and I too lean back down next to Tench.
“Drink gorgeous?” He asks as he reaches over to the basket and pulls out two champagne glasses.
“Yes please.”
I lean on my elbows and watch the various water craft pass by the island. I’m not quite sure of why Tench has brought me here, or what his motives are yet again. I attempt to gain some information from him, in order to aid my overactive mind a little.
“So do you do this kind of thing for all the girls?” I ask in a playful way, hoping to lessen the recognition of an interrogation.
“I haven’t, no. You know me Miranda. I’ve never really had to impress women. Specially not a specific individual.” Tench responds without raising his eyes from the champagne he’s pouring.
Did he just say he’s trying to impress me? I guess that’s fairly obvious given the past forty odd hours, but why? Why me? I try and find some clever words to respond to that statement, but my wit deserts me. I take the glass of champagne from Tench’s outstretched hand and take a sip. Staring blankly out into the harbour, I try to seem untroubled by his confession but I can feel Tench staring at me. I daren’t look back at him and maintain my ignorance towards the subject. I just don’t want to know more therefore, I don’t want to ask any further questions. I just have to let my energetic mind make up its own theory and go along with the Joe Tench ride for now.
“Let’s see what Mrs Oktar has packed for us.” Tench says while looking through the picnic basket. He pulls out a round, flat container and takes the lid off to reveal a delicious looking assortment of antipasto. He takes out two small forks made of bamboo and two small matching plates, and places them down on the rug. He also takes out a container of baguettes with lettuce and prawns spilling out of the middle of them, and yet another tray of
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