Salvation in the Sargasso Sea Ch. 04

"I hope the beer is cheaper here than on the Princess," Jon commented.

"Try the Bloody Mary."

"Now that sounds good," Marla agreed. "Are you cruising, too?"

"No, I live here," the woman responded, closing her book. "I'm on my lunch break."

"I don't see any menus," Jon said, looking around the bar.

The woman tapped her Bloody Mary with a spoon.

"This is my lunch," she said, chomping on the celery stalk. "Where y'all from?"

"Oregon," Marla said. "Do you know where Corvallis is?"

"Nope."

"It's south of Salem," Jon added. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Ya think? Mister, nobody here is from around here. We're all refugees or escapees; trying to hide from something, trying to make a fresh start."

Marla sipped her Bloody Mary. The woman's recommendation was spot-on, the drink was excellent.

"And what gulag did you escape from?" Marla asked.

"Now there's a question!" she replied, slapping her hand on her book. "I escaped from Atlanta, a two-timing husband, and an ugly dog. Two years ago, I decided to get my ass the hell out of Dodge. I ended up here with my suitcase and a teaching certificate. I ain't going back."

Marla glanced at her well-worn book: 'The Bell Jar'. Shannon had told her about this book, but she never read it.

"I don't think I've heard of Victoria Lucas. Is that a good book?"

"Well, I expect not," she replied. "That's the pen name Sylvia Plath used for her one and only novel. I wouldn't call it a good book, unless you want to study depression and suicide. I'm reading it so I know where I don't want to go. Y'all got names?"

"I'm Marla and this is Jon. I guess we might be refugees, too. We decided to take a break and try to relax, and forget."

"We're going back, though," Jon added. "Unless the ship sails without us."

"Well, Miss Marla and Mister Jon, y'all seem like nice folk. I don't know what it is you're trying to forget, but I do hope you succeed. Just don't forget about each other. I can tell you got something special going on, I can see it in your faces. Y'all can call me Stella, 'cause that's my name."

"Thank you, Stella," Marla said. "I hope they don't extradite you back to Atlanta. Maybe the fishing is better up here, anyway."

"Honey, the fishing up here is just fine. A single woman in this town never gets no sleep. Problem is, while the odds are pretty good, the goods are pretty odd. Sorry to run, but I gotta get back to Hoochie's and get set for dinner. Y'all take care now, bye-bye."

~~~~~

After finishing their drinks, they left the bar and strolled through town. Marla was thinking about the last six months, and the events she was trying to forget.

"You know, I never asked you about the trial," she said as they walked. "What did you think about the outcome?"

"That they found her not guilty?" Jon shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose it was fair, she had that brain tumor. Putting her in prison wouldn't have helped anyone. Her illness nearly killed us all."

"But you're not bitter? You've got a hole in your shoulder and reconstructive surgery next month. I'm feeling down and I only got scratches."

"I've been feeling down, too. The doctor called it posttraumatic stress. I suppose we both need some counseling."

Their walk took them to the other end of town, by the fishing marina. As the sun began to swing back to the northwest, the seagulls reported the fishing boats return to port.

"Would you ever consider moving to a place like this?" Marla asked.

"To start fresh? Maybe, but I don't feel like I have to run away. Besides, this place is kind of desolate. I like being around more people."

"Me too. I think I would go crazy up here. Sure is beautiful, though."

"Well, we can always come back to visit," Jon commented. "So, have you given any more thought to how you're going to spend your million dollars?"

"You're being silly again. I don't need a million dollars. You need the money more than I do, for medical expenses."

"Those expenses are covered by insurance," he reminded her. "I'm serious this time, babe. Life seems precarious and the money won't do me any good after I'm gone. I want to make some changes."

Marla walked silently, considering his offer.

"Well, I've never told you this, but I do owe some money to my family. When I divorced Mikhail, my father was very upset. Later, when I moved in with Angel, he was furious. He effectively disowned me, told me that I wasn't part of the family anymore. He said some pretty awful things; hurtful things."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Jon held her hand.

"Later, when Angel started drinking and abusing me, I felt trapped. I had signed a lease and couldn't just bolt, I was on the hook for another year. But I couldn't stay with her, either. I didn't know what to do, where to go, so I called his brother, Gabriel."

"Instead of your father?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "He told me Aram was being unreasonable, but there wasn't much he could do. He gave me some money so I could pay off Angel and move out here. But there were strings attached."

"What kind of strings?"

"He asked that before I pay him back, that I make peace with my father."

"How much money did he loan you?"

"Forty-thousand. I've saved up five so far."

"Oh boy," he exhaled.

As they walked back to the Sapphire Princess, Marla considered her situation. Jon could easily retire her debt and would do so in a heartbeat, if she asked. It wasn't that simple, however; this was a family matter. If he swooped in and paid off the loan, it would certainly be viewed as an engagement. She had already moved into his house, ostensibly as a care giver during his recovery, but it was more than that. Even Schizo was part of the family. He had suggested that she terminate the lease on her apartment, something she was seriously considering.

*

~ Sterling Steakhouse ~

Ghostly figures breezed by, like silky veils on a summer day. Into one car and out of the next, they flowed in well-ordered chaotic patterns. Floating higher above the deck, he perceived the sheer expanse of the terminal: the trains stretching towards infinity. In the distance, standing firm against the river of souls, a lone figure dwelled, gazing up at him.

Jon's eyes darted rapidly beneath his eyelids. His catnap had quickly descended into dreamland, enabled by a hot shower and a close shave. Recently, his dreams had been dark and vague, but this vision etched into his subconscious.

Her image zoomed into view, dressed in white, holding a schedule in her hand. Her face glowed, bathed in the warm light that seemed to come from nowhere, and everywhere. A smile of recognition graced her countenance.

"Lisa," Jon mumbled, unintelligibly.

Her presence overwhelmed him, touching his very soul, filling him with rapture. As her essence evaporated, he sensed her moving towards the Pullman car. Pausing to grasp the handle, she smiled again and said, "Farewell, my love."

Jon bolted upright on the bed, gasping for air, his face pale with fright.

"Are you OK?" Marla asked. She was standing at the foot of the bed.

"I don't know," he replied, breathing heavily. "I was dreaming."

"Dreaming? You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, walking over to kiss his cheek. "You should get dressed soon. I don't want to be late for dinner."

Marla was wearing the lacy black corset and matching panties he had bought for her, on a whim, for Valentines Day. It had become somewhat of a joke between them; she was just not that into pretty things. This was the first time he had seen her in the lingerie. The garment fit her fairly well: a little loose on top, but the bottom was a sight to behold. As she worked to pull up the black stockings, dark wisps of hair jutted from her armpit, pointing towards her breasts.

Jon dressed in his rented tuxedo, observing her step into her evening dress. Marla presented a wholly different image from Lisa. Lisa had been as tall as him, a statuesque strawberry blonde. She was obsessive about grooming; he had never seen a stray hair anywhere on her body. Marla, on the other hand, was half a head shorter, hairy, and more lax about grooming. She was not especially hirsute; it was just that her dark hair was so noticeable. Jon found her body hair strangely attractive and sexy. She was earthy and seductive, even though she considered herself homely.

"It's time to go," she said, walking up behind him.

"The Sterling Steakhouse is on deck fourteen," he replied, straightening his bowtie.

"Here, you get to drive tonight," she said, handing him a small object.

"What's this?"

"That's the wireless controller for the vibrator I'm wearing. Remember that remote controlled Oyster we found online? Well, I bought one to try out tonight."

"You put a vibrator in your panties?" he asked, shaking his head. "And we're going out in public? You are twisted, aren't you?"

"It's up to you make it discrete. You know how noisy I can get."

Jon smiled roguishly and put the controller in his pocket. Leaving their stateroom, they walked single file through the ship's narrow passageway. As she walked in front of him, he wondered where she had hidden the battery pack. He let her get a few steps ahead before pressing the on switch. Marla froze and gasped, leaning against the corridor wall for support. After a few seconds, he released her. Composing herself, she proceeded on, giving no acknowledgement of his dastardly deed.

~~~~~

The wireless controller stayed in his pocket during dinner. Neither of them had eaten since their liquid lunch with Stella. A few times he was tempted to tease her, but the Porterhouse steak kept calling out his name.

Dessert was quite another matter. The waiter stood next to their table preparing the Cherries Jubilee. When he flambéed the Kirsch, Jon reached into his pocket and activated the Oyster. Marla jumped slightly and closed her eyes as the strong vibrations grabbed her attention.

She didn't notice the Jubilee and vanilla ice cream in front of her until Jon turned the vibrator off. Groaning softly, she opened her eyes and gave him that look. Her expression begged for mercy, but he wasn't done with her, not yet. He waited until the second spoonful touched her lips before turning her back on.

The reactive twitch caused the cherry juice to spill and run down her chin. With her jaw clenched on the spoon and her fist tightened around the napkin, Marla was paralyzed in her chair. The vibrator mercilessly buzzed against her clitoris, pureeing her plum and torching her own liqueur. A whimpering cry escaped from her larynx.

Finally, he released her and reached over to take the spoon. Before she could open her eyes, he stood and leaned over the table. Starting in the cleft of her chin, his tongue traced upward towards her mouth. The cherry juice mixed on their tongues as he kissed her and bit her bottom lip.

Marla's deep breathing betrayed her arousal. Peering at him through narrow slits and long lashes, her expression foretold of future retribution. Jon smiled smugly; his hastily conceived plan was working. Tonight's experiment would determine how long she could teeter on the edge of an orgasm.

Excusing himself, Jon left Marla to finish her dessert in peace. Searching for the head had led him out into the commons. The urinals were occupied, so he ducked into a stall to relieve himself. The two other men were drunk and gossiping about someone.

"Did you see that FUB in the restaurant?" the little guy asked.

"Oh yeah," the big guy answered. "That bitch sure is fugly."

"A double-bagger, for sure. That geezer in the tux must be blind."

Jon felt the flush of anger overtake him when he realized they were talking about Marla. Zipping up his pants, he spun around to confront the drunken bastards. Fortunately, logic arrested his machismo before he could get into trouble. He was in no physical condition to confront one asshole, let alone two. Lingering in the stall, he waited until the drunkards left the restroom.

Returning to the dining room, he paused behind a large fern. From this vantage point, he secretly observed Marla finishing her dessert. She was licking the last traces of cherry juice from the spoon, her flattened tongue scouring the bowl of the utensil. Jon tried to be objective about her appearance. There was a kind of 'Amy Ray' quality about her. Calling her a fugly bitch, however, was unfair and just plain cruel. She was no Vogue cover model, to be sure, but then he was no GQ hunk, either.

"Not Vogue, but maybe Rolling Stone," he whispered and pressed the remote control in his pocket.

Jerking in her chair, she dropped the spoon and steadied herself. Her mouth was now agape, and her face contorted with one of those guitar solo expressions. She audibly gasped for air as Jon approached her from behind. An elderly couple at the next table looked over with concern.

"Let's go get a drink," Jon whispered in her ear. He could hear the Oyster purring against the chair cushion.

"She's fine," he reassured them. "Just a bit too much wine."

Supporting her elbow, he helped her stand and guided her towards the Horizon Terrace. Marla dug her fingers into his arm as she struggled to walk. As they approached the Outrigger Bar, he turned the vibrator off. He didn't want the bartender to refuse to serve them.

"Two Macallans straight up, please," Jon requested. Marla stood nearby, smiling demurely.

The Sapphire Princess had turned south giving them a spectacular view of the glacier in the waning sunlight. Incredibly, the sun still showed low in the horizon at ten o'clock. Sitting on the port side, they sipped their scotch and smoked Marla's cigar. The pungent odor of tobacco gave them some privacy.

"Are you going to finish me off?" she asked, leaning back into him.

"Not quite yet," Jon replied, turning the vibrator on its lowest setting. "Let's see how close you can get."

"I'm really close," she panted. "I can't take much more."

Marla bit her lower lip and pulled his hand to her chest. Her own hand drifted down to feel the vibrations on her clitoris. She began to groan out loud as Jon fondled her breast and turned up the speed.

Nearby, someone on the terrace shouted, "Get a room you guys!"

*

~ Stateroom B232 ~

Jon knew there would be hell to pay for teasing Marla. The ankle and wrist restraints limited his ability to move, but he wasn't completely immobile. Mercifully, she had tied his left arm to his side rather than over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"This a cock ring," she said, fishing his penis and testicles through the silicone donut. "I've got big plans for you."

"Ow! Easy, they're still attached, you know. That thing feels pretty tight, are you sure about this?"

"Oh, quit whining. You tortured me and now it's my turn. The ring is just for enhancement. It's harmless, mostly."

"Mostly?"

With his genitals stuffed through the ring, Marla bent down and slurped his half-hard cock into her mouth. Blood rushed through the dilated artery and filled the spongy tissue, but the silicone band blocked the exit. By now, she had become quite adept at stimulating him; her tongue, lips, and fingers working in delicious concert. Almost like a tubular balloon, Jon's penis engorged to a degree he had yet to experience.

"Now that's impressive," she said, standing back to admire her handiwork.

"Oh my God," he exclaimed. "It's going to pop."

Standing at the foot of the bed, Marla stepped out of her evening dress and threw it over the chair. Peeling away her soaking panties revealed the Oyster, still latched onto her vulva. She gently removed the vibrator, pulling the battery cord from the crack of her ass.

"Look at what you've done," she said, combing her fingers through her pubic hair and over her erect clitoris. "I'm all wet and hard."

Still wearing the lacey corset, Marla approached the bedside holding a butt plug and a bottle of lubricant. Jon appeared concerned about her intentions.

"Is that for me or for you?" he asked.

"You'll find out," she answered, climbing onto the bed and straddling his abdomen.

Easing back into a sixty-nine position, she hovered over his face, just out of reach. With her head resting on his tummy, she watched her clitoris inch towards his straining tongue. The contact sent a jolt through her body, like an electric shock. Closing her eyes, she pressed down into his puckered lips and swirling tongue.

"Oh God," she groaned. "That's it, suck on it. Don't stop."

Jon, of course, had no option. With his wrists and ankles bound, he could only lift his head high enough to tickle her labia and perineum. Marla was intent on fucking his face, so he offered his folded tongue to her engorged clit.

"Yeah," she whispered, increasing the pace of her thrusts. "Jesus, that feels good."

With her pubic bone pressing on his chin and his nose buried in her pussy, Jon could only gurgle in response. Above his head, the restraint on his wrist was starting to loosen. A couple of twists were enough to free his right hand. Marla discovered the escape when he plunged two fingers deep into her steaming vaginal canal.

"You bastard. Finger fuck me. Oh God." Marla growled her approval.

Rocking back and forth, her anus soon came within range of his probing tongue. She expelled a gasp of air when he plunged through her sphincter.

"Shit. Oh fuck," she shouted, helping him spread her ass cheeks.

Nearly delirious, Marla pushed herself down onto his face. Giving into the wicked sensation, she opened her asshole and engulfed his rigid muscle. After only a minute of anal stimulation, she suddenly pulled away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong. I just don't want to come yet. Here, why don't you lube me up?"

Leaning forward, her marvelous ass presented itself as she took his cock into her mouth. In the process, she had removed the restraint on his left hand. Pouring lubricant into her crack, he began massaging her anus and working his slippery fingers inside. His left hand snuck its way inside her corset, finding an erect nipple to pull.

"Plug me," she begged.

Jon held the base of the butt plug in his teeth and poured some lubricant over the tip; his left hand was not available to help. Tracing circles around her ass, he gradually spiraled in, working the tip inside. The sight of her stretching around the cone-shaped plug made his cock twitch against her lips. Teasing her, he repeatedly removed, twisted, and reinserted the plug into her beckoning ass. Soon, her hips were bucking in unison with his deepening insertions.

"All the way. Push it all the way in," Marla cried out.

With one steady thrust, he watched the fattest part of the plug disappear and her anus close around the neck. Not satisfied with that single event, he pulled on the plug, forcing her back open. Jon added more lubricant and repeated the reaming until he felt no more resistance.

"There we go," he said, sliding his fingers back into her vagina. "Why don't you take a ride?"

"Hmm, that sounds nice," she replied, rolling a condom down his rigid shaft.

Guiding her hips down towards his constricted cock, his anticipation grew. He had never been harder, or more ready for some serious fucking. She rose up onto her feet, squatting just inches above him, poised to impale herself on his deadly weapon. With one long agonizing descent, she sat down on him, completely engulfing his inflated ego.

"Oh my God." Jon's voice quavered with unparalleled pleasure.

"Oo, that's nice. Let's do that again."

Lifting herself back up, she released his cock from her silky grip. The next squat was a little quicker. By the fifth iteration, she was slamming herself down on him, crashing against her cervix.

"Jesus," he gasped. "Don't stop."

Marla's ride continued, eventually morphing into a deep grind against his propped up testicles. Jon raised his knees after the ankle bonds failed, providing a bit of support for her body. With his hands on her ass, he guided her frenzied ride, twisting and tugging on the butt plug. Her increasingly erratic movements and squealing betrayed her approaching orgasm.