Loading...“Well,” Tom sighed, “what other romantic songs do we have for Valentine’s Day? More Dean Martin?” The little piano bar was more crowded than on some nights. It had been a shore day, St. Martin. No big production show tonight, just one of those juggling comedians that seem to find their way on to cruise ships. Washed up, like him, flotsam bobbing against the shoreline, but not quite, not quite stranded yet.
He had a few more years, a few more years until his voice gave out completely, until he could not stand to sing My Way one more time, until his laptop fried in the middle of cruise and left him without the thousands of songs it could bring up at a moment’s notice.
“How about Fly Me To the Moon?” one of the guys in the little group that had established themselves as regulars piped up. He ignored them. They had just chosen the last two songs. The same old, literally old, crowd. It was in between winter break and spring break, no college kids to liven things up a little. Not than anyone under fifty ever wandered in to sit down. The wall behind him was open, people were passing by all the time, but that’s all they did, pass by, pausing for a few seconds perhaps to admire how elegant he looked, in his tuxedo, seated at his lovely baby grand.
“How about someone else? How about over in the corner there?” It was then that he saw her, sitting alone, almost out of sight. He almost didn’t recognize her, her figure hidden in a loose grey sweatshirt. But that face, that blonde hair in a little half ponytail, was unmistakable. It was the new singer for the production company. Three days out at sea, or was it four? What must she be thinking? She looked very, very lonely. Of course, he knew all about loneliness. Why had he ever taken this job? He had thought that it would be an adventure. He had dreamed, that one night, there would be a beautiful woman looking at him like that. But he could not change himself. Until now.
He was surprised that she was in here. The drinks were a lot cheaper in the crew bar. Of course, there was not much atmosphere there, no dark wood panelling, no thick carpet. It occurred to him, fleetingly, that she might actually be sitting there enjoying his music, but he pushed that thought aside. Well, he thought wildly, this is the moment, if there ever was one.
“Diana,” he said, trying to be very much in control, a teacher tracking down a wayward pupil, “I see you back there, hiding.” She blushed at that, she actually trembled, and he was sure that she was going to run away. Where was the woman who exuded sexual confidence and exuberance on stage? It was comical how shy she was in private. “Diana,” he soothed her, as if he were coaxing his own child, “won’t you come sing something for us?”
The rest of his little audience — it would be presumptuous to call it a crowd — had recognized her now. There were little murmurs of encouragement, urging her to the microphone that was set up next to his piano. He put it there, every night, and no one ever used it. But now, here she was, impossibly beautiful, impossibly young, smiling at him uncertainly. My God, he thought to himself, a woman like that! When he was her age, someone like her would have looked right past him. And now, she was actually abashed by his confidence and power. She had no idea how terrified he was, how difficult it was for him to face her gaze without letting his teeth chatter.
“What would you like to sing?” he asked, very gently. She was so much like his daughter, and he used that, he used that to have the confidence to talk to her.
“How about Over the Rainbow? Do you have that?”
“I have every song ever written. I even know that one.”
“Can you do it in e flat?”
“You’ve got it.” Oh God, he thought, as she began to sing, what a glorious, glorious voice. So young, so pretty, and with a voice like that … she deserved better than a cruise ship. And maybe, maybe she would get there some day. Maybe she would be one of the lucky ones.
The song ended, and there was silence. It took everyone a moment to get their breath back. Then came applause, as much as the little crowd could make, and she blushed again, and fled back to her table. He went back to growling out Perry Como. His voice wasn’t bad, but it didn’t sound so great after what she had just done.
Against all odds, she didn’t leave. She was still sitting at that little table, staring at him, staring out into space, closing her eyes, dabbing at them once in a while with one of the little napkin that had come along with her drink. There was quite a pile of little napkins there to choose from, it seemed. He cut his set short a little, and left the piano to start up the canned music. He was sure that when he turned back around, she would be gone. But she was still there.
“Do you mind if I join you?” He tried to make his voice confident, casual, even though he felt like every part of his body was shaking. Bond, James Bond. He tried to hide behind the tuxedo. Dashing, handsome, experienced, sophisticated, that was him. That was who she thought he was. But it was no good pretending. Forty five years old, and he felt like he was back at a junior high school dance. What was the matter with him? Didn’t women like confidence, assurance? Surely he could snow this little girl.
She smiled at his shyness, his diffidence. “I really would like that,” she said. “I am really lonely tonight.” She said it so frankly, so trustingly, it caught him off guard. There was, he sighed, no way that he was going to bring himself to seduce this girl. A father figure, that was what she wanted from him. He found himself falling into the old, familiar patterns. He could treat her like his daughter, that let him approach her, talk to her. But to go any further than that — it would be such a breach of trust. Why was she sitting here talking to him, and not David or Brian, one of those brash young dancers with huge muscles and egos to match? She just wanted someone she could have a conversation with, someone who wasn’t going to hit on her — someone old and respectable and safe. That was why she was here. There was no sense fooling himself.
“I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much, asking you to sing.”
“Oh, not at all.” When she sang, her vowels were broad, almost American, but now her speech was more clipped. England, her bio had said, she came from somewhere outside of London. What kind of English girl, he wondered, wound up as a singer on a cruise ship? Not upper class, certainly, maybe not even middle class. Bur her accent sounded educated. Didn’t make the cut to go to university, or had she chosen a different path?
“This is your first time on a cruise ship?” he ventured. He already knew that, of course, from the biography in the playbill.
“Yes. And you?”
“Oh,” he smiled wanly, “I’ve lost count. It’s been a couple of years. I’m beginning to feel like the Flying Dutchman. You’re just out of school?”
“Three year performance program. Yep, this is my first real job. My first time away from home. First time away from …” She stopped, and started to dab at her eyes again.
“Your family?” he suggested. “You miss your family?”
“My boyfriend,” she had to make it explicit. “I called him,” she said, “while we were on the island. It cost me a bloody fortune, but I thought, what the hell, it’s Valentines Day, it will be a nice surprise.”
“He should have enjoyed that.”
“Yes,” she answered quite dryly, “he should have.”
“It’s difficult. You’re away for a long time.”
“Six months.”
“And he’s back in England?”
“Yes. Yes, God knows he was upset when I took the job. But I thought, maybe he could join me sometimes, maybe he could fly over to New York occasionally.”
“It doesn’t work,” he sighed. “It never works.”
“You’re married?” She was staring at his fingers.
“Guilty as charged.”
“Your wife is with you?”
“Not this trip. Not,” he sighed, “for a few trips now. Quite a few.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Everything was perfect, perfect. Nice job, nice house, nice family. But then I got laid off, she put on a lot of weight, we started to fight about money, and … I don’t know. It all fell apart. I always wanted to do something with music. When I was out on the road, I always used to find a piano and spend the evening playing and singing.”
“So now you’re here. You’re very good. Don’t most people start out as entertainers and then find something respectable?”
“I’m just living life in reverse. What can I tell you?”
The waiter came, and deposited two more drinks. “A toast,” she said, bitterly, “to St. Valentine.”
“A toast,” he replied, “to strangers in the night.”
His break was over, and he went back to play for another half hour. Surely, she would leave. Surely, one of the other dancers or singers, some other beautiful young body, male or female, would claim her, whisk her away. But she was still there. And, at the end, she came up to sing again, Strangers in the Night. She didn’t know the words very well, and she had to lean over his back to read them off the computer screen. She pressed against him, hands on his shoulders, breasts vibrating against his neck, her hot breath cascading down his forehead. It was all he could do to concentrate on the chords, to keep his fingers from trembling as he broke them up into little riffs beneath the glory of her voice. By the end of the song, he had fallen in love with her, so hopelessly, so completely, that it was almost impossible to concentrate on what needed to be done to close up for the evening.
“Well,” he said, struggling for some composure, “that’s all for this Valentine’s Day. I wish you all a very romantic rest of the evening, on this beautiful ship. Don’t forget the special Valentine’s Day Chocolate Lovers Buffet, which should be starting just about now, right next door in the Sea Shell Dining Room.” In fact, the line for that buffet was backed up behind them. They had been part of the applause that had greeted Diana’s second song.
“Do you want to get some chocolate?”
“No.” She retreated back to her table, and he trailed after her. “Not now, not in that crowd. Maybe later. I don’t know,” she scowled. “I’m already eating too much. You know, they weigh us every morning?”
“What happens if you’ve gained weight?”
“They whip us.” She said it with such deadpan seriousness that he actually believed her.
“Whip you?”
She laughed at his shock. “No, they don’t whip us. Whipping would leave visible marks. We can’t afford that, we have to work naked.”
“Naked? I wish.”
“Might as well be. Those costumes don’t cover much, and each one covers a different bit.”
“Does that bother you?”
“When I’m on stage, no. But the other night they had us hanging around after the performance. I was in this skirt that was slit up to the waist. And I couldn’t wear anything under it. Well, I suppose I could have, but it would have spoiled the effect, you know? I was so embarrassed, just standing there like that. And it makes it tricky, getting a tan.”
“Orient Beach is good for that.”
“Yeah, isn’t it?” she drawled. “The girls dragged me over there, this afternoon. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into until I saw this big sign in French. Plage nue.” She drawled out a pretty good French accent, plawhje nooh. “And then there were all these old people walking around naked. It was so embarrassing. I mean, sometimes I would look around the church, and wonder what those people would looked like without clothes on. But I never really wanted to know. Now I do.” She gave a little shudder.
“I saw you over there,” she added, “running.” That was enough to make him blush. Of course, he had seen her too, bunched up with all the other girls from the show, in a little island of beauty in a desert of flab. But he had hoped that he had gone unnoticed as he ran by. “You keep in pretty good shape,” she added. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m running all the time,” he said. “When I’m not playing the piano, I’m running around the jogging track.”
“Good for you.” They sat for a few minutes without talking. “Did you call your wife today? For Valentine’s Day?”
“No,” he admitted. “I guess there isn’t too much romance left.”
“I should nae have called my boy friend. You know what he did? He fooking broke up with me. Four days out, on fooking Valentine’s day. The fooking arse hole broke up with me.”
“Fooking?” He was almost shocked at her casual obscenity.
“Fucking.” She said it this time with an American accent.
“I’m sorry,” he said, without too much conviction. “It was probably going to happen, sooner or later.”
“Yeah, sooner or later. The fooking bastard couldna wait to get rid o’ me.” She stopped. “I’m sorry, when I get upset I forget to enunciate properly.”
“It’s lovely. I love the way you talk. What do you want to do?” It was not even eleven yet, too early for bed. At least, too early for sleep. “Do you want to go dancing?”
“Gawd no, I spend half the day fooking dancing.” Her accent was devolving with each drink. “How about a walk? I need some air.” She seemed to be having a bit of trouble organizing her limbs to get up from the table.
“Sure.” Just across the hallway was a door out onto the promenade deck, which on this ship also served as the jogging track.
“How many times have you been around this walk?”
“Oh, God,” he said, “I don’t know, twenty laps every day, for how many days? Thousands, tens of thousands. I’m like a squirrel in a cage.” He took off his jacket.
“Oh,” she sighed, “I wish I could do that. It’s hot out here. I wish I was wearing something under this sweatsuit. They only give us one bag of laundry a week for free, so I’m trying to save clothes.”
“We could up to the observation deck. There’s more breeze up there.”
“Look, Mr. Waters …”
“Tom,” he winced.
“Tom,” she said, “you’re being very nice, and I appreciate it, but I’m really not feeling very romantic tonight. Even though it’s fooking Valentine’s Day.” She deliberately drawled it that time.
The disappointment in his face must have been too evident. “Wait,” she said, as he turned to leave, “I didn’t say I wasn’t horny.” That was enough to make stop. “I’m horny as all hell and pissed as all hell.”
It had probably been twenty years, but some of the old reflexes started to kick in. Just like riding a bicycle, he thought, you never forget how to do it. At least, he hoped that was true. “Well,” he said, “why don’t we just go downstairs and spend the rest of the evening fooking?”
She cupped one hand around his balls, then stroked upward, testing for an erection through the thick fabric of his tuxedo. “Are you any good?”
It was time to be the masterful, experienced older man. It was time to assure her that he was gonna rock her world, baby. But all he could come out with was a feeble “What?” The question, posed so calmly, was enough to completely unsettle him.
“Are you any good,” she whispered it this time, into his ear, “at fooking?” Her tongue was brushing his earlobe at the end. He had a sudden premonition that he was in way over his head.
“I’m okay,” he sighed. “I know what I’m doing. Actually, I’m out of practice. I haven’t tried it for a while. How about you?”
She burst out laughing. “I stink. I suck so bad. No, I even stink at sucking. I am the world’s worst. The worst! I just lie there like a dead fish waiting for it to be over soon.”
She broke away from him and leaned over the railing, staring out pensively at the passing foam. He came up behind her and slid his hands up under her sweatshirt. She really was wearing nothing under it. Her breasts were larger than he had realized, smooth and firm, and her nipples were tiny but very hard. She sighed a little as he ran his fingers over them.
“I think,” he whispered back, into the nape of her neck “that you are incredibly sexy.” Her hair was very soft, subtly scented, and he parted it to kiss her smooth, golden skin. Beauty is only skin deep, perhaps, but her skin was so soft, so creamy — a little salty as he licked it.
“Oh, I am, until I actually get into bed. Then it all goes away. I just freeze up. Look, if we go down and have sex now, we’re just going to go through the motions. At least I am. I don’t want that, not tonight.”
“You’re ready to cut loose.”
“Well, why not? Why the fook not? Look,” she broke away, turned around, gave him a appraising stare, her deep blue eyes only inches from his, so close their eyelashes were almost touching, “isn’t there something you have always wanted to do, but you could never convince your wife to do it? No, don’t tell me what it is.” She didn’t look so shy now. She looked more like that girl who was so explosive on stage. “As long as it doesn’t leave any visible marks, I’ll do it. But,” she smiled, and the smile did not seem so innocent, “you have to do whatever I want, first.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not going to tell you. Are you willing?”
“No visible marks?”
“You wear a suit. A fooking tuxedo.”
Well, he thought to himself, why the fook not. How many times had he dreamed of a moment like this? How many nights had he waited for something like this to happen, and there had never been anything, not even the hint of anything.
“Good for you. Come, let’s get going.” He had never actually said yes, but he followed her meekly. She walked very quickly; he was almost running to keep up with her. “You don’t share a cabin, do you?”
“No. Do you?”
“With three other girls. It. Is. The. Pits.”
“You never lived in a dorm?”
“Never. I lived at home when I was in college.”
“Four in a room? Bunk beds?”
“Sort of. The girls on the bottom have moved theirs together.”
“That must be interesting.” The implications seemed obvious, but he didn’t push it.
“It sucks, it sucks so bad. The beds are supposed to be on the edges of the room, and you’re supposed to be able to walk around the in middle — but no, they have their beds together in the middle so you have to walk around on the side, except the upper bunks are in the way, you keep hitting your head all the time.”
“My cabin is down this way.” He tried to make it sound routine, as if he invited beautiful young women to share his bed every evening.
“Got to get some stuff first.” She was heading for the theatre. “Wait here.” She used her key card to enter the ladies’ changing room.
“Not allowed in?” He poked his nose through the door. The walls were plastered with huge posters of naked hunks, all improbably hung. Intimidating. And, in truth, some of the dancers were probably built exactly like that. It made his poor attempts at fitness seem pretty pitiful.
“Damn!” She seemed very upset. “It’s not here!”
“What’s not here?”
“None of your business.” She gave him a smirk like a mother hiding a birthday present. There was a house phone on the wall. “Hello, who is this? Yes it’s Dini, to whom am speaking? Chrissie? Chrissie, remember the props you were showing me? I need them. Why? Remember what you said you did to Brian? No, not Brian, Tom. Tom, the piano player? Wears a tuxedo? Yeah, that one. No, I saw him over at the beach today, he’s not flabby at all. No, I don’t know yet. I need help? Yes, I know I could use a psychiatric evaluation. The fact that I’m even on this ship sharing a room with you is evidence of that. Oh, that kind of help. Yes, I’m sure he’d like that. What cabin?” She turned to Tom.
“Four four oh two.”
“Oh,, you know where it is? Do you now? How interesting. Ten minutes? Okay. We won’t dare start without you.”
“What was that?”
“Chrissie is coming over to help.”
“Help with what?”
“You’ll see. Do you know Chrissie?”
“I know who she is,” Tom replied, choosing his words carefully. “She’s the black girl. The one with the big…” he stopped, abruptly.
“She seems to know who you are, too.” Diana gave him a look of appraisal.
“It’s a small ship. A small world. After a while, we all get to know each other.”
“I imagine so,” she drawled.
“We run together, sometimes. Fairly often. You know, it gets a little boring, running around the same ship all the time.”
“I would imagine so.”
“It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Sometimes we have a drink together.”
“Oh, I’m surprised.”
“At what?”
“She said you were old and flabby.”
“She said what? That bitch! She’s just jealous because I’m faster. She knows I can whip her sorry fat black ass any time I want to.”
For some reason, that was enough to make Diana choke in the attempt to suppress her giggles.
They were heading down the stairwell now, three flights down, then the long narrow corridor to his cabin. Thankfully, it was empty.
“Have you ever had sex with her?” She asked the question as if it were the most casual thing in the world. But he could sense it was not a casual question at all.
“I wish. I’m afraid I’m not her type” He tried to make it a joke, then, out of the blue, remembering those two beds pulled together, added, “have you?”
“Yes.” She blurted it out.
“What?” He stopped dead in his tracks, grabbed her to stop her also. “Chrissie has seduced you already? Three days out? That is really, really sick.”
She seemed abashed at his reaction. “It’s not a big deal. It was sort of like, a rite of passage. The first night in the room.”
“The first night in the room?”
“First night at sea. It was sort of like, an initiation.”
“An initiation.”
“Yes.” She started to blush, then drew herself up, regaining her composure. “I had to make it with the other three girls.”
“They made you do that? That’s awful, taking advantage of you like that.” And just what was he doing? He should be ashamed of himself. He was ashamed of himself. But, a deal was a deal. He wasn’t going to back out now. At least, he would keep his half of the bargain.
“Well, they didn’t exactly make me do it. They sort of strongly suggested that it was a ship tradition. At least, a tradition in their cabin. You know, if we’re going to live in such close quarters, it’s easier if we’re all intimate. It’s easier to get that settled right away, instead of letting it drag on. That makes sense, doesn’t it? It was no big deal.”
“No big deal,” he repeated, dazed by her revelation. She had seemed so shy, so innocent. “It would be with me, if I moved in with a bunch of guys and they said I had to blow them. It would be a huge fucking deal.”
“Well, it wasn’t.” She seemed defiant now. “And it wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t as if they got me there under false pretences. I knew it was coming.”
“You knew?”
“Well, I sort of knew. Look,” she sighed, “these cruises are very long. You’re going to be living with the same people in very close quarters, for a very long time. It’s not going to work if you’re not compatible.”
“That seems,” he said after a moment, “like it’s taking things a bit too far. They made you perform cunnilingus on all three of them?”
“I believe,” she said dryly, “that’s the technical terminology.” She broke away and started walking again, and he trailed after her, trying to keep up.
“And you had to make them all come?” He couldn’t let it go. She was going to turn around, and slap him, and storm away, and that would be the end of it. They were going to spend the next six months glaring at each other any time they happened to meet.
But instead, she just giggled. “Oh yes, I had no problem doing that. I’m really good with my tongue. I’m terrible at blow jobs, according to dear Alex, but I’ve always been good with girls.”
Always? “And they made you come?”
“No.” She paused. “Not that they didn’t give it a try. I’m telling you, I’m a fucking dead fish. I just got chafed. That’s one the reasons I haven’t been wearing panties all week.”
“Oh.”
“Look,” she snapped, “I could have taken a different job. I could have moved into a different cabin. I made a choice. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No, nothing at all.”
“Good,” she said, then added, “Chrissie’s ass is not a bit fat. She’s all muscle.”
He was, by now, in such a state of arousal that he was sure that the brush of his pants against the tip of his erection was going to make him explode. He was sure that he was going to have to send the tuxedo to the cleaners with a very embarrassing stain. Nothing on this ship was anonymous. Some little Phillipina would see the stain, she would know whose tuxedo it was, and there would be little titters of gossip hanging around him like an invisible cloud. Each step towards the cabin was an exercise in self control.
Chrissie was waiting for them when they got there. Skin like café au lait, black, curly hair — she could not have been more of a contrast to Diana’s pale gold. But they were both big girls, as tall as he was. And strong, too. He had one holding each arm as they ushered him into the room.
“So,” Diana laughed, “this is how the other half lives. Look at all this wood.” He was lucky enough to have one of the passenger style cabins. An inside one, but at least it had proper furniture instead of the bare metal and grey vinyl featured in the crew quarters. “Look at all those mirrors. You’ve got yourself a little cathouse here, Tommy Boy!”
Yeah, he thought to himself, I get to watch myself jacking off all the time.
“Oh!” Diana sighed, “this sweatshirt has been killing me!” She gave a groan as she shrugged it over her head. It stuck there, for a moment, and her breasts wiggled enchantingly as she struggled to free herself. “Oof! That’s better!” She pulled off her pants absentmindedly, leaving them on a heap at her feet. No panties. As he had noticed on the beach, she was shaved to complete smoothness — not surprising considering some of the costumes she had to wear. She was, literally, statuesque, her nipples small and pink, with barely any aureole, her vagina so tight lipped, that it was barely an indentation in her groin. He could understand how she could get away with wearing nothing, or almost nothing, underneath her costumes. There was hardly anything to hide.
Chrissie had pulled off her sundress. She also was wearing nothing underneath. It seemed that both of them were trying to save on their laundry bills. Her body was just the opposite — her breasts were all aureole, with huge black nipples. She also had shaved off most of her pubic hair, just a little line of black curls exactly like the ones that covered her head, but there was no masking her sex, huge, heavy, thick black lips hanging down almost as prominently as his balls, a clitoris jutting out that was half the size of his penis. She never wore skimpy costumes, and he could see why now.
“Take off your clothes.” Chrissie prodded him back out of his trance. He did it systematically, carefully hanging up the pants and jacket, putting the studs and cufflinks, the bowtie and cummerbund in their spots, folding the shirt into the dirty laundry drawer. He was standing there in just his under shorts and socks.
“Come on!” Chrissie pulled down the shorts. “Oh, my, Tommy boy! You’ve been holding out on us!”
“I told you he was built,” Diana giggled.
“I thought you meant muscles. My, oh my, some night we’ll have to try that out.” She gave his penis a little pat, bobbed it up and down a couple of times.
“Maybe later,” Diana said. She gave him an absentminded, friendly little kiss, right on the tip, and he almost lost it, then and there. “You’ve got the thing?”
“Oh yeah.” Chrissie rummaged into the bag she was carrying, and produced a bright blue dildo. “Nice little one. Beginner size. Tommy boy, do you have any idea what we’re going to do to you?”
“I think so.” He’d come across videos. In fact, he’d even tracked down videos. He’d always wondered what it would be like. He had never imagined that he would find out.
“This is your chance to back out.”
“What do you mean, back out?” Diana broke in, upset. “He promised.”
“Look dear, I’m not taking your word for it. Do you understand, Tommy Boy, that Diane is going to put this little blue cock on and fuck you up the ass with it?”
“You don’t have to be so explicit. It was supposed to be a surprise,” Diane fumed.
“A surprise? How much more of a surprise can it be? He’s seen the thing. What the fuck else are we going to do with it? Well, Tommy Boy, what about it?”
He nodded. He was afraid to try to speak.
“You scared?” He nodded again. “Good. You got any medical conditions?”
“What?” Diana broke in again.
“Look, sweetheart, I used to be a cop. It’s habit.”
“You were a cop?” Tom could not resist asking.
“Yeah, a cop. They fired me for moonlighting. You taking any medications?” He shook his head. “Any problems with rectal bleeding?” She gave him a hard stare.
“No,” he muttered.
“I hope to God you’re telling the truth. What’s your safe word?”
“Safe word?” The other two said it at the same time.
“You two don’t even know what a safe word is? You are really lucky I came along. You’d be winding up in the hospital, or the brig, trying to do this shit on your own. Lollipop.”
“Lollipop?”
“That’s your safe word. You say lollipop, everything stops dead. You understand?”
He nodded.
“How about you?” She turned to Diana. “You got that into your little blonde brain? He says lollipop, and you stop whatever the fuck you are doing. You need a trip to the bathroom?” That question was directed at Tom.
“That might be a good idea.”
“A very good idea, for all of us.
But when he got there, all he could do was pee a little.
“That,” he could hear Diana fuming out in the cabin, “was about the least sexy thing I have ever heard. It sounded like my last gyno exam.”
“It’ll get better, sweetie, trust me. You’ve got to get some of these details worked out. Better now, than once you get going. Come on, let’s start setting up. You see those lights on either side of the bed? You can run the cords right around them, and then back in.”
“I never would have figured that out.”
“That’s why I’m here, honey.” Chrissie gave a long, throaty chuckle.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, it was dark. He had an inside cabin, no porthole for light. He had left the bathroom light on, but one of them extinguished it behind him. Before his eyes could adjust to the sliver of illumination coming in beneath to door to the hallway, they had wrestled him onto the bed, on to his back. Something snapped around his wrists. Handcuffs, he thought, in disbelief, where would they get handcuffs on a cruise ship? Then his legs were being pulled back, one of them on each side.
“This isn’t working,” Chrissie was muttering. “We need more light.”
“Okay,” Diana sighed. “So much for romance.”
One of the little lights next to his bed came on. He realized that they had wrapped bungee cords around each of those lights, and, sure enough, they were attached to handcuffs, which were now attached to his wrists.
“How the hell did you get those in the ship?”
“Oh, they’ve been here for a long time. Before my time, that’s for sure. We sort of pass them around. When we’re changing rooms, they’re up in the cast lockers.”
“Oh.” That had been what Diana was looking for.
“Now,” Chrissie said, “this will be a lot easier on all of us if you just cooperate. Understand?” She gave him a sharp slap on his belly. “Pull your legs up.”
“Like this?”
“No, higher, over your head. Is that the best you can do? Men!” She pushed his right leg up and out, so that his knee was touching his elbow. “Does that hurt?”
“A little.”
“Good. Where is the fucking tape?”
“Right here.” Diana was handing her a roll of surgical tape.
“No, don’t give it to me. Tape him while I hold him in position. That’s it, lock the elbow and knee together. Okay, let’s do the other leg. Tommy Boy, you are shaking like a leaf. You aren’t going to mess up the bed, are you?” He shook his head. “Better get a towel, just in case. Better safe than sorry.”
When she came back out of the bathroom she opened that door and the closet door that was across from it. Both of them were mirrored, and the room was so small that they were almost touching the bottom of the bed. He had a perfect view of himself — a view of parts that he had never really seen before.
“How’s that, Tommy Boy? You like what you see? You have such a cute little asshole, doesn’t he, Dini? Wait.” She put a towel on top of one of the pillows, “come on girl, let’s get him up on top of this, it’ll give a better angle. Okay.” She had brought out a wet washcloth with the towel. “Let’s make sure you’re nice and clean.” She wet a finger and he watched in horrid fascination as it vanished within him. “Good,” she said, examining it, “clean as a whistle.”
“I’m astonished,” Diana grumbled, “that you didn’t use surgical gloves.”
“You want some?” Chrissie took her seriously. “I’ve got a few pairs of the ones that the food handlers use. We can even slap a rubber on poor Tommy Boy here if you think we need to.”
“God no,” Diana groaned. “I already feel like I’m doing a fucking medical exam.”
“Slap him a few times.”
“What?”
“Slap him. No, not on the face. It’ll show. Slap him on the ass. Give him a good spanking.”
Tom braced himself, but what came was hardly more than a little pat on the butt.
“Come on girl! You can do better than that!”
The next slap was stinging, and the next one even harder.
“I need to be able to sit down to work,” he pointed out.
“Is that a lollipop? Already?” Chrissie was sardonic.
“Slap somewhere else, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Diana said, and she slapped his balls. He saw the where the hand was headed, he heard the sharp retort of flesh hitting flesh. The burst of sensation that came next was more than pain. He felt as if everything was glowing, exploding, for just a tiny instant.
“Oh!” he gasped, when he got his breath back.
“Tom! I’m so sorry! We’ll stop, right now.”
“He didn’t say lollipop,” Chrissie pointed out.
“What?”
“He didn’t say lollipop. Did you, Tommy Boy?” Tom shook his head. “You keep going, until he tells you to stop.”
“Slap him again?”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Enjoying what?”
“Slapping him?”
“Of course I’m not enjoying it.”
“Maybe not then, not right now. You’re not ready yet.”
“I’m not enjoying any of this,” Diana sighed. “I thought it would be fun, but it is not turning me on, at all. I’m sorry.”
“Use your mouth,” Chrissie suggested. “Maybe that will get things going.”
“Give him a blow job? I hate fucking blow jobs.”
“No, stick your tongue up his ass.”
“That is NOT part of my fantasy.”
“That’s why I’m here, baby, to give your little blonde brain a boost. Trust me.”
“Trust you? Why the fuck should I trust you. Tommy, I’m sorry, this has been such a fucking disaster.”
“It’s okay,” he somehow had the composure to soothe her. “I’m enjoying it.”
“You’re enjoying it?” That made Diana laugh. “You enjoy being trussed up like a Christmas goose? You enjoy having me slap your pathetic little balls?” That one made him wince. The slap she gave him made him wince again, but he liked it.
“Did you like that, Tommy Boy?” Another slap. He nodded. “You want me to slap a little more. You want me to slap until those little balls empty out?”
“That’s it!” Chrissie was gleeful. “Now you’re getting into it!” She whispered something into Diana’s ear.
“Oh, Tommy Boy,” Diana said, with mock seriousness. “Bad news. We’re not going to let you come yet. You’re just going to have to lie there and wish you could get your hands on your dick. Isn’t that too bad.? Tell me, Tommy, do you want me to stick my tongue into your pretty little asshole?”
“Yes,” he stammered.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, please.”
“Yes, please, what?”
“Yes, please,” he paused. “Mistress?”
“Yes!” Chrissie crowed, “yes! You go, girl! I knew you had in you. Whip his sissy little ass!”
But Diana was staring uncertainly at the little pucker of flesh beneath Tom’s red and swollen testicles. “Oh, God, I don’t know if I can go through with this.”
“There’s nothing to it. Put in a little jelly first, it makes it easier.”
“Okay.”
He could see her hand, in the mirror, reaching to touch him, he could feel the soft cold of the jelly. The finger started to probe, and he winced at the pain.
“Don’t use your finger,” Chrissie was saying, “your nails are too long.”
What happened next was hidden by her long blonde hair, cascading along his inner thighs as she knelt down to caress him. She was good with her tongue, she had said, but there was no secret button to find here, just unyielding muscle. She licked around that outer barrier a few times, and that was nice, very nice. Then, frustratingly, she stopped. That was enough to make him moan in protest.
“Come on girl.” Chrissie was behind Diana now, licking down her spine. “It’s,” lick, “not,” lick, “that,” lick “hard. You do it just like,” a lick down the tailbone, “this.”
“Oh, my God!” Diana gasped, as she felt Chrissie’s tongue slide into her bowels. “There!” Chrissie said triumphantly, “see how much she liked that? Come on, Tommy Boy, open up for her.”
“I’m trying,” he said.
He felt Diana’s tongue again, probing harder now, and he tried to relax. She got in, just a little. But he could not get the inner ring to yield.
“Shit into her mouth,” Chrissie suggested.
“What?” That was enough to make Diana back off completely.
“What?” Tom echoed.
“You won’t actually do it,” Chrissie tried to explain. “But thinking about it will open you up.”
“I could never do that,” Tom sighed. “I can’t even come in a mouth. I could never even think of shitting into one.”
“Tommy Boy, you are just not getting into the spirit of things.” Chrissie rummaged in her bag, and produced what looked like a bright red thong, with little pink hearts. “Here, Dini, put this on.”.
It was the harness for a strapon, and once that little blue dildo was in place on it, it didn’t look so little after all.
“Okay,” Chrissie answered, “we’ll do it the hard way.” She started to slather the dildo with lube. “Tommy Boy, this will be a lot easier on you if you just let it happen. Here, Dini, push when I tell you to. I’ll aim. Are you scared?” That question was directed at Tom.
“Wait.” Diana pushed Chrissie away. She slapped Tom hard, on the stomach. “You’re going to behave.” The next slap was a little lower.
“Get in first,” Chrissie said. “Then you can slap his balls all you want. You need help?”
“No, I do not want fucking help! This is my fucking fantasy! You’ve been screwing it up for me! Just shut the fuck up and let me fucking fuck his fucking ass! Do you want that, Tommy. Do you want me to fuck your little sissy asshole?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have to do something first,” she said. She got up on the bed, on hands and knees, and turned around. From that angle, that position, she was not closed in at all. Her cunt was hanging wide open. She backed up even more, until she was pressing against his face, and he plunged his tongue into that smooth warmth. She was very aroused, heavy with the taste of desire. From that angle, his nose was poking right into her asshole, and she was actually grinding around the tip.
“Not there,” she said. She squatted down a little. “Come on!” She gave his balls a little slap.
He took a deep breath and poked his tongue in as hard as he could. There was so resistance. Now what? He wiggled around a little, and she broke away.
“That tickles,” she complained.
“It’s not supposed to fucking tickle,” Chrissie sighed.
“Well, it does. He’s got little whiskers on his lips, and they tickle. I’m telling you, I’m not normal. Nothing works the way it should for me. Okay Tommy, you’ve been a good boy. Let’s get on with it.” She turned around and knelt down before him. “How the hell am I supposed to do this?” She squatted down, almost in a split, and got the tip of the dildo to the point where it was touching his anus. But when she put any pressure on it, it just slipped away. “The fucking angle is completely wrong. Are you sure you really did this with Brian? You haven’t just been bullshitting me?”
“We used his couch,” Chrissie sounded very defensive. “I was kneeling on the floor.”
“Well, there is no fucking couch in this fucking cabin, and you’ve got him up at the head of the bed.”
“I thought the pillow would get him high enough.”
“Well, it didn’t. Jesus, this is such a fucking disaster!” Diana was crying now.
“Dini,” Tom said, “please.”
“Please, please what?”
“Let’s move him over to the edge of the bed,” Chrissie suggested. “We’ll have to take the handcuffs off.” They uncuffed him, and dragged him forward. He was still taped, elbows to knees, and he just rolled over on his back when he lost contact with the wall. All he could see was the ceiling.
“How’s that?” Chrissie was saying.
“Might work. Might work. Sweet Jesus, is that what it looks like?”
She’s inside me, he thought. Well, not her, exactly, but that bright blue appendage she had donned. It had happened so easily, so quickly, he hadn’t had time to react. She was just standing there, her thighs pressed against his buttocks, in all the way, and he could barely feel the dildo. There was a sense of fullness, and that was about it. Was that all there was to it? What a disappointment.
“Come on,” Chrissie was saying, “don’t just stand there. Slap his balls. Fuck the shit out him. Wait. Tommy Boy, you’re going to have to help her find the sweet spot. Understand? You ever try this on yourself?”
“No.”
“Too bad. Okay, Dini, take it slow until he figures out where he wants to be fucked. Just ease in and out.”
She came all the way out, and there was a little explosion of sensation as she hit the inner ring again. Not pain, just intense sensation, like an itch that needed to be scratched. An itch that he had always had, and never realized it. Then she probed deeper, and it hurt a little, but he liked the way it hurt. He wanted more of that. He squirmed a little, trying to find where that ache needed to be rubbed.
“That’s it,” he said. Chrissie whispered something, and Diana began to move a bit faster. He was struggling to keep up with the way that she was prodding him, to keep paying attention to how that little itch was building, deep within him. Then, out of the blue, she slapped his balls again, hard this time. The shock made everything tense for a moment, and then it was all glowing, as if an electric current was flowing through his nerves.
“Not too fast,” Chrissie was saying. “Let it build.”
“Please,” Tom said.
“Please what?”
“Please slap me some more. Mistress.”
She gave him a whack that nearly tore his balls off, and he let out a yelp. “Sorry,” she sighed. “You want me to stop?” He shook his head.
She started to push a little harder. He could feel that sensation building, down underneath his balls. How could he come, down there? He couldn’t feel his penis at all. He wished that his hands were free.
“Come on Tommy Boy,” Chrissie was saying, “work for it. Now you know what we go through.”
Work for it, he thought, but how? Then, suddenly, he was starting to tremble. He was coming, somehow, inside his asshole.
“That’s it!” Chrissie was crowing triumphantly.
“How can he be coming? He’s completely limp.” Diana grabbed his penis, and he realized that it was true. “He’s peeing,” she added. “No, it’s not pee.”
“Are you coming?” Chrissie asked him.
“I think so.” It was strange. It had been several seconds now, almost half a minute, and it was not stopping. If anything, it was getting more intense. “Push harder,” he said.
“He’s ready,” Chrissie added. “Fuck the living shit out him.”
“Finally!” Diana snarled, and she began to do just that. She was a big girl, she knew how to use her hips. And it was building, building, it was more than he could bear, but still not enough.
“Slap me!” he said, “more!” But the slaps were not doing it.
“Give him a little help,” Chrissie suggested, “with your hand.”
“Jerk him off?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She started to do that, on top of everything else, and he realized that he was spouting like a fountain, trembling, shuddering, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. “Damn you!” She gave one, last, violent shove, and he ejaculated, so hard that he splattered her breasts. Somewhere, far away, Chrissie was collapsing in laughter.
“That’s enough,” he said, as if it were not obvious, then added, “lollipop.”
“Tommy, I’m so sorry.” And Diana kissed him. If she remembered where his tongue had been, she didn’t care. It was the first time they had actually kissed, and it was better than anything else that they had done together. He wanted that kiss to last forever.
“Very romantic,” Chrissie broke in. “Come on, we’ve got to get this tape off.” She started to pull it away, and Tom gave out a little yelp.
“That hurts?”
“Worse than anything so far.”
“You’re just too hairy.” She gave another tug and he yelped again. “You’re just a hairy sissy.” Finally, he was free, and he sat up, trying to rub some circulation back into his limbs. He’d been fighting a nagging hamstring injury for a few weeks now, and having his legs pulled back for so long had not done it a bit of good.
“Okay,” Diana said, “it’s your turn now.”
“My turn?”
“Your turn for your fantasy. That was the deal.”
“I need the bathroom first.” It hadn’t bothered him while he was getting fucked, but now he felt like he was about to explode. And, when he did sit down on the toilet, that was more or less what happened. He had to keep flushing to keep it from clogging, leaning up away from the suction of the vacuum line. Four flushes later, he was ready to return.
They were lying on his bed, naked, waiting for him. And he wasn’t ready. He was completely, totally, drained. He had never really had a fantasy, or if he had, he had forgotten it.
“You look,” Chrissie drawled, “like you need a rain check. It’s not even midnight yet. Why don’t we get some of that chocolate?”
“Wait,” Tom said. He had been lusting after Chrissie for a long time. He’d been too busy to relish the fact that she was spread out like this before him. He touched her, wonderingly, he kissed a nipple, then slowly kissed down that brown belly, hard as any man’s, stippled with muscle. “You don’t know,” he added, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
He came closer to the bottom of that stomach, and he realized how musky she was, sour almost, exotic. He had never had sex with a black girl. One brush of his tongue against that huge clitoris, and she began to come. He shoved a finger up her asshole. Not needed, really, but she started to heave against it, her flesh pulsating around it. It lasted for a while, forever, it seemed, before she finally pushed him away. God, he wanted to fuck her, he needed to fuck her, he had been waiting for this moment for a year now. But he was limp, numb beyond redemption. He’d probably just used up a week’s worth of orgasms.
“Damn it!” Diana was fuming. “It is just not fair! How is it that everyone else in the world can come like that?”
“Wait,” Tom said. How could he have forgotten her? She was the one he wanted, the one he loved. “Wait.” He turned her on her side, crawled behind her.
“What are you doing?” But he couldn’t answer. His tongue was back up inside her, sheathed in the hot, smooth, muscular tube of her rectum.
Chrissie understood what he had in mind, and she started to lick on the other side. It wasn’t easy to find Diana’s clitoris, it was tiny, deeply shrouded. Tom reached forward to help, prying it out of its hiding place, pushing it into Chrissie’s waiting lips.
“Oh. Shit! I can’t believe it!” Diana began to shudder. Years of frustration were swept away, it seemed, in one gigantic tide. She wrapped her legs around Chrissie’s shoulders. Her bowels were in spasm around Tom. It was all he could do to keep his tongue in place. He was aware, dimly, that Chrissie was lying very close to him, that her huge soft breasts were touching him, that one of her hands was grabbing at his groin. He was too busy with Diana to pay much attention. But them Chrissie started moaning also, and he realized that somehow she had teased him to enough arousal to get him inside of her. She had been so wet, so relaxed, he hadn’t even felt himself slip in, but now she tensed. The two of them had him trapped in their flesh. Five minutes, it must have lasted at least five minutes. By the time it was over, he was worn raw at both ends.
“Enough!” Chrissie said at last. “We’re not going to be able to dance tomorrow, if we keep this up”
“All right,” Diana answered meekly. She sighed, and added, “I think maybe I came.”
“What about you, Tommy Boy. You make it?”
“No,” he sighed. He was giving Diana little licks and kisses. The sight of her, spread out like that, the taste of her. He started to move again, relishing Chrissie’s body, the hardness of her belly, the soft cushions of her breasts.
“Well, let’s do it,” Chrissie said. “I am getting a little sore.”
“No,” he sighed, “forget it.”
“Wait,” Diana said, “don’t move.” She rolled away from him, then scrambled back behind him. “I owe you one.” She started to lick the base of his balls. “How is that?”
“Nice.”
“Just nice? How about this.” She licked a little further back, then. This time there was no resistance. His inner ring was still relaxed and open. He felt her tongue enter him, and that was enough to push him over the edge. It wasn’t much, a fraction of what he had done before, maybe only a tiny dribble, but it was enough.
“There,” Diana said triumphantly, “I did it!”
“Girl, you have definitely gone over to the dark side,” Chrissie said. “You too, Tommy Boy, you sissy little anal whore.”
“Well,” Diana said, as she retrieved her sweatsuit, “was that it? Was that your fantasy?”
“No,” Tom sighed, “that wasn’t it at all. I wanted you to dance.”
“To dance?” She dropped her clothes back on the floor and started to do one of her production numbers. “I’m a genie in a bottle ..” she started to sing.
“Well,” Chrissie laughed, “I guess we found where to rub.”
“Finally,” Diana sighed. “Is that what you wanted?”
“No,” Tom sighed. He got up and put his hands on her shoulders. “I wanted you to dance with me. A nice slow dance.”
“Like this, naked?”
“No, I want you to be wearing a beautiful white gown. With a veil. I want to be wearing my best tuxedo. But naked is okay.”
“Okay,” she said, settling into his arms, “let’s dance.” She began to hum, Strangers in the Night.
Oh God, he thought, this is impossible, so impossible. I’ll have her for tonight, maybe for a week. No more than a month. She’ll find some beautiful young body, someone her age, someone with the world ahead of them, not a washed up drifter. Six months at most, and she’ll move on to another job. And I’ll be stranded, really stranded, ready to rot in the sun. He was crying, he couldn’t help it, but she didn’t see it. Her head was resting on his shoulder.
“Was there anything else,” she stopped humming to ask, and he wanted to tell her, yes, I want you to love me, I want you to love me forever, but he couldn’t, because his mouth was full of her tongue. It still tasted faintly of strawberries. God, he thought, how can life be so pitiless? He had been lifted so high, he could see the rocks below, waiting to dash him.
Chrissie had taken up the tune, singing the words aloud — lovers at first sight, in love forever. “Yes,” Diana sighed, “oh, yes.” And she kissed him again.
“Oh,” Chrissie drawled, “that is so fucking romantic.”