See Ya

Mrs. La Morte said "Great! Let's go shopping." As I followed her out of the salon I looked back to see Jake and the captain grinning and high fiving each other.

So that's how I found myself being dragged around to store after store looking for just the right "look," whatever the fuck that is. I fucking hate shopping for my clothes. I will never complain about polishing chrome again. I swear we looked at the same shit in eight different stores. In my mind I am plotting revenge on Jake and the captain.

Mrs. La Morte proceeded to give me etiquette pointers from the start of the trip to the end. I went to my cabin with five new sets of 'outfits' from shoes to the tip of my head including sunglasses. Now, I appreciate that she paid for it all on her credit car, but for just one party it seemed a little excessive.

Evidently I am not as smart as I think I am, I really did not see it coming. Anybody with half a brain could see she was setting me up to be her personal party favor for her friends. Maybe it was because of all the other shit in my life, I just wasn't paying attention.

Constance turned out to be a mature socialite that had the benefit of every medical procedure known to man. She was bright, articulate, well rounded, and turned out to be a joy to be with. As I walked her to her limo she gave me a hug and a kiss and squeezed my butt. She was smiling as she was driven away.

I shook my head and went back up the gangway. These folks sure lived differently than anybody I knew. I headed for my cabin to get out of these clothes and into bed. My mind drifted to my ex-wife. I thought of her as an ex in every thought. I still had a hard time getting my head around what she was going to do to me. I finally put it down to a defective brain on her part. Nobody intentionally maims another person that they supposedly love. That was the key, she did not love me, I had to get over it.

When I awoke we were under way. Shit! I was supposed to be topside. I jumped into my clothes and ran up to the deck. The captain smiled at me and said "Thanks for taking one for the team."

I told him, "You and Jake are on my list and I will get payback. Do you know how many stores she dragged me to? If the stores had not closed at 9PM I would still be there."

He was laughing and said, "Go get something to eat and get back to a real man's job pretty boy."

I could tell that my life was going to be hell from now on. The other crew members got in on the act and added their 2 cents worth at every chance. I took solace in the fact that they were serving me, even if they had smirks on their face.

Nobody flew in at Fiji, so we provisioned and moved on to Australia. I had my job down pat and started to become bored. I asked the chief engineer if I could look at the systems manuals for the yacht. He told for me to knock myself out.

I spent more and more of my off hours in the control room with the manuals. Soon I was accompanying him as he performed preventive maintenance. I would read the manual on a certain system and then watch him perform the task. Then I was doing the maintaining with him watching. Next he was just sending me to do the task and come back and enter it in the log book. I was good on everything except the radar. He said not to worry we would get up to speed on that.

We arrived in Australia and the owners flew in with one other couple. There were a lot of local people that came aboard and they partied hard.

The parties started and I was put to use. The captain would call me and tell me to put my pretty boy clothes on and report to Mrs. La Morte. She would introduce me to the ladies as an engineer in training on their yacht.

One of the main differences I noted in Australia was that all the ladies went topless and wore string thongs. I mean everyone; I wondered why they even bothered with the thong. When they came out of the spa you could see everything. Camel toes abounded, I was conscripted to apply suntan lotion on the older women and one of the younger walking dildos did the same to the younger ones. Ah it was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.

Mrs. La Morte sure got her money's worth on her beauty treatments. She looked like a walking wet dream. I spilt some cum over her when jacking off later that night.

One day as I was waiting to be introduced, one group of people wanted to be shown the yacht. The captain usually did that job or the chief engineer. They were not available so I volunteered to escort the group. One hour later we were back in the salon and they were raving to the owners about the most informative tour they had ever had. I had answered every question they could think of and explained it in words that they could understand.

The next day I was called to the salon and there sat the two guys that I owed payback to. Jake and the captain greeted me and poured me a drink of brandy. As we sat sipping our drinks I was offered a birth on the yacht. Of course I said yes.

Jake said, "Let's be clear on your duties. You are a deckhand, an engineer in training, an escort, a tour guide and a gigolo. Does that sound about right?"

I said "It's all good except the gigolo part I haven't been laid in months." The situation seemed to rectify its self overnight. The smallest state room always seemed to be open and one or two extra females always wanted to help me with my problem.

I was video tutored via Skype for the marine engineering certificate and consistently scored in the 90's on the mock tests. Now I was just marking time to get the required actual sea time part of the requirements satisfied. As soon as that was complete I could take the actual test and get the certificate.

My ex was convicted and sent to prison for 5 years, the nurse friend lost her credentials. The house went into foreclosure and I retained a lawyer to finalize the divorce. It was a shoe-in because of the circumstances surrounding the conviction. The only negative thing was the way my credit report ended up. Time would straighten out the credit report. I did send a letter of explanation to each of the 3 credit reporting agencies to add in my files.

We are off to the Med for six months of fun in the sun. I have been upgraded to a private cabin in the officer's area. The captain informed me that we would be getting a new yacht that would be 100 feet longer and have newer and more systems on it.

Mrs. La Morte still takes me shopping to dress me to get the 'look.' I don't fight it these days, I just consider it part of the job. She has patted my ass a few times but I think it's so she can tell her friends that she has.

I consider myself lucky to still have the 'boys' with me; I came real close to losing them.