Deep Blue Ch. 03

Trish ate the rest of her ice cream with her eyes downcast and her face intent on thinking. I raised an eyebrow at Gretchen, but she shook her head and smiled reassuringly at me.

We let Trish consider and eat in silence for a few minutes. When she finished the ice cream, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. I may never have realized it before but this is what I want. So yes, I agree to everything you've laid out."

Gretchen smiled at her and took Trish's hands back into her own. "We'll get a contract written up when the cruise is done, but we'll start now. The first thing we do is shop and then we get you moved out of that disaster with Niccio."

We made our way back out and I smirked at Gretchen. "Does that make you Obi-Wan Werner and Trish your Padawan apprentice?"

"Don't make me show you The Force," she mock threatened me. "I brought my paddle along on this cruise."

"Ooooo," I smiled. "Keven would like the idea of that. I may have to borrow it."

"We'll talk," she said with a smirk of her own. Why did that simple phrase make my spine tingle?

Gretchen led the way to the far end of the Promenade and into the fashion boutique. I was surprised to see such a good selection of dresses and other fashion items. This ship was full of surprises.

A young woman named Angie came over to take care of us, and shortly Gretchen had her calling for backup as she put the shop's staff through their paces. She was selecting and rejecting dresses, shoes, handbags and everything under and in between. She kept the stunned Trish busy running in and out of the changing room. Every time she came out, Gretchen gave her a good look, made comments to Angie and either rejected the dress or let the seamstress pin it and collect it for adjustment this evening. A seamstress on a ship! I couldn't believe it.

As I saw Trish in dress after dress, I decided that Trish's figure was even more devastating than I'd suspected. She had all the curves I'd always wished I had and some I hadn't even known to wish for when I was younger. Her innocence, mixed with the raw sex appeal of some of the dresses, combined to make an intoxicating package that few men would be able to resist. In particular, several low-cut affairs were deep enough to let me know what it felt like to stand below a dam that was threatening to give way to the overpowering pressure of a flood. Whew!

One enticing combination was a black dress with a deep plunge neckline in lacy fabric that flared and came to about mid thigh. On Trish, with her coloring, it looked wonderful.

"You'll need a choker or necklace with that one," commented another customer, a slender Nordic blonde. "It'll give the men an excuse to look at your cleavage without appearing gauche about it." She grinned. "Just be ready to accept a lot of compliments about whatever you have on around your neck!"

Gretchen laughed and agreed with the woman.

Another superb dress was a white number with similar lines but the fabric was almost feathery in cut and texture.

-----

Gretchen also made a number of selections from various catalogs of items that they had aboard, but not in the shop. The one glance I took at the book let me know, at the very least, that Gretchen was talking of intimate apparel. There would have to be miracle bras to support Trish's breasts and not show in those dresses. The prices also made me wonder just how much money an escort could make. If Trish could afford to repay Gretchen in just two years, and on just 80% of her income, escorts obviously made enough money to rival many reconstructive docs!

I shook my head and forced myself to look around the shop. I managed to find a few dresses that made me drool, so I picked them up, tried them on, and at Gretchen's nod of approval, decided to take them all. What was the use of making a lot of money if I couldn't spend some of it on a dress that made Keven's teeth fall out? My middle class upbringing was screaming about the cost, but I well knew that my savings account would never notice the difference. For the first time, I had to admit to myself that Sandy wasn't really middle class any more. I wasn't "comfortable" the way my clients defined it, but I was definitely not a member of the middle class, either.

In an hour, we were done, with that store, at least. The staff was running all over trying to get things sorted out after we left. I didn't think I'd ever seen anyone leave such chaos in her wake. Trish was in shock and I didn't blame her a bit. Gretchen was a force of nature.

Gretchen told them to deliver the purchases to the Presidential Suite. Angie nodded and tasked someone else with it while she trailed behind Gretchen like the little dog following the big dog in the cartoon. As Gretchen headed into the promenade, Angie followed right along behind her. Obviously, she thought that if someone in the Presidential Suite was on a shopping spree, that she should be there to smooth the way. When I asked, Angie explained that all the store employees worked for Imperial Lines, on salary, so there wouldn't be some weird conflict between her and other employees fighting for a commission.

The next stop was the jewelry store back by the ice cream shop. "It's right next door to where we started. Why didn't we go here first?" I asked.

"Because I didn't know what kind of clothes I would be accentuating," Gretchen said reasonably. "You have to start with the foundation and build from there."

The only other customer was a well-built gentleman that was buying a set of wedding rings. He gave us an approving look and completed his purchase, leaving the salesman free for us.

At a word from Angie, the salesman, a good-looking young man named Paul, sent for more jewelry before even sitting down with Gretchen and Trish. Gretchen was doing all the talking, describing what she was looking for and rejecting most of what was in the displays as being inadequate for her needs. Trish was starting to look a little wild-eyed.

Gretchen did find some teardrop earrings that she was pleased with, and while Trish was trying them on, half a dozen crewmen carried in three large trunks under the guard of two ship's officers. I wasn't sure, but it looked like the officers had guns under their uniform jackets. They sent the crewmen out and stood unobtrusively by the entrance.

The items Paul brought out of the trunk made my eyes almost pop out of my head and convinced me that the two officers did indeed have guns on them. We had just moved into a price range starting at tens of thousands per piece and ranging up to what I would guess was hundreds of thousand per item. I thought Trish was going to faint.

When it got to the point that Gretchen thought Trish might swallow her tongue, she said softly, "Don't panic, Trish. You'll make enough to buy all of this, or you can just give it back to me and that'll cover it. Relax." I reevaluated the earnings potential of an escort several notches higher and wondered if being a doctor had been the wisest course, after all.

Gretchen picked out several high-end pieces and had Trish model each one before settling for a dazzling diamond and tanzanite choker, an exquisite petal necklace, and half a dozen lesser pieces. Gretchen set those aside, as well, for Paul to have delivered to the Presidential Suite. I felt a bit in awe myself.

The next stop was the perfume shop. It was back across the promenade from the fashion boutique, of course. Perfume, at least, was something I thought I knew a lot about. I was wrong. In the next half hour, I learned that I was in fact a rank amateur compared to Gretchen. Not being an idiot, I let Gretchen select one for me as well. The feel of her nose and lips hovering just over my wrist did things inside me that I didn't expect, and I knew Keven was going to get dragged into the bedroom as soon as we got back to the room.

Gretchen was finalizing the purchase when concealed speakers announced that the ship was now under way. The cruise had begun.

As we made our way back into the Promenade, Trish took Gretchen's hand and stopped her. "Gretchen, how much did I just go into debt for?" She sounded a bit frightened.

Gretchen took Trish into her arms, giving her a gentle hug of reassurance. "Not one penny, Honey. I promise that you'll make it back easily or I'll be satisfied with the return of the stuff."

"I know you said that," Trish said stubbornly, pushing herself back until she looked Gretchen in the eyes, "but how much did you just spend on me?"

"Give or take?" Gretchen asked. "I'll get the exact amount later, but call it somewhere in the neighborhood of hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"Ohmigod!" Trish moaned. "That is so much money! That's like a house!"

Gretchen laughed merrily. "Honey, that depends on the house. Remind me to show you my car. Don't freak out. You'll make that, and much more, before too long."

"Trish! Dear God, Woman, can't you understand simple instructions?"

The screeching voice sounded like Erkel with pretensions. I saw the body attached to the voice walking through the crowd like a feudal lord with intent. Hell, "intent" was coming out of his ears like steam. Not that he looked more like a lord. He looked like the guy at Comp-u-geek that had fixed my computer, except that guy looked more handsome and wasn't dressed like an idiot. Simple deduction told me this must be Skip Niccio.

Trish froze in place like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming diesel rig. Gretchen put her hand on Trish's shoulder and stood beside her waiting for the angry writer to stop in front of them.

He stalked up and took up what I guessed was supposed to be a regal pose, though having to look up his nose at Trish ruined the effect. "Not only did you fail to unpack my clothes as I clearly told you to do, you failed to bring me my key. I had to get one from the help," he sniffed. "Now I find you shopping and cavorting as if you don't have any responsibilities! This simply will not do! Come along! "

"Actually, Mister Niccio," Gretchen said in a voice a little louder than normal conversational tone, "she's decided to allow me to act on her behalf in this matter, and I regret to inform you that she's withdrawing from her agreement with you."

Niccio immediately puffed up and turned red. "This is outrageous! We have an agreement and there is no clause for such an event! She simply must abide by it!" He thrust his skinny, pimply chin out in defiance.

Gretchen smiled. "If you'll allow me to examine the contract, then, we'll get this cleared up."

"This is a verbal agreement," he blustered. "All fully legal."

"Be that as it may," Gretchen said, holding firm to Trish to keep her from sliding behind her protector, "without a written contract, it becomes difficult to prove your point with any certainty. In view of the lateness of her withdrawal, we will of course pay a fifty percent penalty to the costs incurred by you. That will include the cost of her cruise and her airfare. In addition, she will be moving out of the cabin you reserved for her so that if you can find a replacement, it will be available."

"You little tramp," he hissed at Trish, advancing until Gretchen stepped between them. "I'll see that you regret this. I'll take you to court and ruin you, as well."

"I'm not afraid of you," Trish said, trying hard not to look afraid. "Go away!"

"Yes, Mister Niccio," Gretchen added, pulling her checkbook from her purse, "I think it's time for you to move along. If you feel the need to take this matter to court, feel free to have your attorney contact me at the address on the check. The amount I've made the check out for should be close to the amount you're owed. If not, please submit an invoice with receipts. Please, keep any overage with my compliments."

"I'll see you torn to shreds on the tip of my pen," he said in what I'm sure was supposed to be a menacing whisper. "I don't forget those who cross me, and better women than you have fallen, their reputations ruined by my writing and my vast fan base."

"Just what do you write?" I asked. "I can't recall ever hearing your name or seeing it on a bookshelf."

"I," he said drawing himself up haughtily, "am an erotic author with hundreds of thousands of fans around the world. I publish in something larger than the dinosaur of a bookstore. In a flash, my words come to all without the need to dirty my hands with money grubbing publishers."

"You're going to ruin our reputations with the people that read smut online?" Gretchen asked incredulously. "Who the hell even reads that crap anyway? A bunch of little boys that are too busy typing with one hand to go out and get a real woman and who are too poor to pay for one?"

Skip looked like he wanted to respond, but he couldn't seem to form words and his eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of his head.

I simply couldn't resist staying quiet any longer. "If it means getting skewered by someone that probably couldn't sell a real book if his life depended on it," I sneered, "then I'll take that risk. Take the check and get lost before I actually laugh in your face."

Stung, he sneered back at me. "My fame is already well known, and Philistines like you are irrelevant. I'll have you know my work has earned me a number of Golden Clits as well and three times that many Silver Clits!"

That actually elicited laughter from all three of us.

"That's probably the only clit you'll ever see for free," Gretchen said. "Those who can, do, and those who can't, write. By your own words, Skip, you write some hot sex. See the pattern? Come on, Trish, we're done here. We'll send someone to get your things." Gretchen took Skip's key from Trish and dropped both it and the check in front of the angry writer. "Good day," she said as she set sail through the circle of onlookers, towing Trish in her wake.

Trish turned while Gretchen dragged her away and stuck her tongue out at Skip. I grinned at the apoplectic Skip and followed them closely.

After we had gone several stores down, he shouted after us. "You'll all pay! No one snubs Skip Niccio like that and escapes retribution. I'll denounce you in front of my loyal fans during the awards ceremony tonight in the conference room! You'll regret you ever crossed me!" His voice broke several times during his tirade and it sounded like he was almost ready for puberty. No, I made a mental note to find out when the ceremony was because it promised to be the best entertainment on the cruise so far.