Jean let go of the wheel, letting the autonav take them to the island which awaited them.  He had to focus on his beautiful Calista as she settled herself onto his lap.  He had drawn over two dozen pictures of her both in color and charcoal.  He felt sometimes he would be fascinated with this woman until the day he died.  She kept moving... writhing on his lap... drawing his attention to thier still clothed connection.  The way she leaned up against him and played with his hair.  Calista had him wrapped around her delicate fingertip.<br/><br/>He had to try and keep his cool.  He was the captain.  "<em>I thought... Id bring you out here to paradise.  Get you to relax a little... maybe lose some inhibitions.  I dont know... maybe we could go native for awhile.</em>"  He said all of this with some detached logic.  He was trying to be a captain.  Though his body was screaming for him to rip sweet Calista's clothing off her body.  Reaching up with his free hand to pull of his 'captain's hat', leaving on only his sunglasses, he glanced around on either side and then straight up above them.  "<em>There is nothing out here for miles... just you and me.  And maybe an American spy satalite.  Damn Americans... they love sex so much.</em>"  This was a private joke Jean and other Parisians shared sometimes.  Calista seemed well traveled enough to get what he was saying, though.<br/><br/>Reaching up one arm, up her bared back, he touched her neak as he leaned in closer to her.  The sweet little lap dance Calista was giving him was inspiring him to say more.  "<em>Maybe we could... give them a bit of a show.</em>"  He wanted so much more... right then.  His hand on her neak gently played to one side, sliding off the speghetti strap off of Calista's lovely porsaline shoulder.