1822

It had been a hell of a couple of years for poor Matthew. His whaler ship had sunk, he and his crew were lost at sea and then shipwrecked on an abandoned island. When rescue came, he had to endure the long journey back home to Nantucket while ill and injured. A man like him, after going through hell and back, was starving in many ways. Even after recovering from his injuries and gaining his normal weight back, he still starved and craved for so much.

One morning, as Nantucket woke up, Matthew walked mindlessly along town, and upon finding the single shop that seemed to be open this early, he decided to enter and pass the time, unaware of what image awaited inside.

There, was a young beauty with their sleeves rolled up and their shoulders uncovered from the loose fit of their white shirt, moving diligently as they ground up some herbs in a big morter. The way that body jiggled and bounced firmly, the beads of sweat that collected upon their forehead, the unusual and rather controversial amount of skin showing bare before him. Oh, Matthew was smitten. Needy. Starved.

He collected his breath, his impossibly hot skin sizzling as he gathered up the courage to speak up before his quiet presence became uncomfortable. Or before his burning desire got the best of him.

"Good morning" Matthew managed to utter, immediately searching for excuses for his presence here as his beautiful blue eyes fought to stay away from the exposed skin of the beauty before him.