"Do you travel on boats a lot, then?" she said.
"Not really," I admitted. "I've been on a ferry a few times. And on some smaller boats. Once up the Thames, and then on one of those party disco boats at the end of school."
I paused, before continuing with, "oh... and I've got one of those One Star Canoe certificates. I did that with Woodcraft."
"So would you want to go on a boat ride with me?"
I licked my lips. "Only if we can have sex on the boat."
I waited for her response. It was difficult to gauge what her reaction would be, seeing as how she wasn't actually there and, with no facial response, I had no visual clue. Still, if I knew her as well as I thought I did, she'd take what I said in good humour.
The little window flashed orange. "Hee, okay," she said. "But you're bringing protection."
At which I took a little glance, unseen, towards the little blue drawer unit on my bedroom windowsill. The free condoms I'd gotten from the university doctor were probably still in there. It wasn't until years later that I realised they'd expired and threw them away, replacing them with more condoms from a different doctor at a different university.
There was another pause.
"Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase rocking the boat."
I had no idea where this was going until I checked her LJ the following day. A fairly standard entry for her, full of fandom and bizarre shipping crossovers that I never believed anyone had, albeit ending with:
I didn't sleep well last night. Someone made me dream about boatsex.
"Whoops," I murmured softly to myself, with a rather large grin.
We're still friends now. We never did have sex on a boat. I've never actually had sex on a boat. I'm sure it happens, if Titanic is anything to go by, but it's never happened to me. As for her, well, she moved on to Oodsex.
For two very obvious reasons, apparently.
They'll do anything you want. And they have tentacles.