After the End of the World

I slowly unbutton my blouse, looking into the captain's eyes the whole time. I can see the anticipation in his body language, but he's got impeccable self-control. He must, to have become a ship's captain at such a young age. And he really is a handsome man. He's got a trim, athletic body, a face with expressive eyes, and a striking aquiline nose. Not at all objectionable.

I slip out of my blouse, folding it neatly and laying it over the arm of the chair. Then, with our eyes still locked, I undo my jeans and slip them over my hips, sliding them down and off of me one leg at a time. They join my blouse.

The captain's got a slight smile on his face now. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, holding it to my sides with my arms as I slip the straps off my shoulders. Then I lower it slowly, at last showing him my nipples. I pointedly look down at his crotch and see that he is rising to the occasion, visible even in his uniform pants. I look back up into his eyes and smile in appreciation.

I begin to lower my panties, and his eyes go to my last garment. I consider turning and bending over as I remove them, like they do in porn videos, but then reconsider. He is a man of refinement, and that seems a bit crude for this situation.

I've kept myself neatly trimmed for Caiden, and it seems to please the captain as well. At last, I place my panties onto my stack of clothing. The only thing I'm wearing now is Greg's class ring around my neck.

Ramirez steps forward and I think he's going to touch me, but instead he gently lifts the ring and examines it.

"It belonged to my husband," I say. "If I ever stop wearing it, you will know that I am open to further proposals."

He nods, and I can tell that he's taking that as a challenge. I hope it works in my favor. He lowers the ring back down between my breasts, the back of his finger lightly brushing my skin. I reach my face up and kiss his cheek, in the process rubbing my nipples across his starched, white uniform shirt, then giggle and scurry to the bathroom.

I shower quickly, reveling in the marvelous scents of the fancy shampoo, conditioner and bodywash, but refusing to give in to the temptation to luxuriate under the wonderfully warm water. After drying off with a thick, thirsty towel, I use the provided combs, brushes and blow dryer to style my hair. A full set of high-end cosmetics have been laid out on the long vanity top, and I wonder about them. Has the captain done this before? This set hasn't been used, but he must have had these onboard before he ever laid eyes on me.

I'm no makeup devotee, but my mom grew up in Italy and knew European methods of using cosmetics to their greatest benefit. She taught me what looks best on me and how to apply the bare minimum to get that effect. I do it exactly as she taught me.

I consider leaving the bathroom wearing just what I wore on the way in, but then see that the long robe hanging on the dark bronze hook is of the feminine variety. It fits me perfectly. I take a deep breath and look at my transformed visage in the mirror. "You can do this, Lana," I murmur to her.

When I open the door, I'm glad I'm wearing the robe, because the crewman who brought me here is back in the room, setting plates of food down on the dining table from a cart. I had thought that such service had been completely eliminated when the Héctor Cámpora had become a refugee transport, but evidently not. It must be good to be the captain. Or his mistress.

I'm ashamed to admit that it takes me nearly a full second to notice that my children are gone.

I employ every little scrap of self-control I can muster to not panic. Instead, I throw a calm, but questioning look to the captain, glancing at the empty spots where my most precious possessions had been sitting twenty minutes before.

"The children are with Señor Michaels," he says. "I understand what it is to be a father, so I wanted him to have the opportunity to say goodbye that I did not have. We can send for them later this evening."

His expression says he means it as a warm (if convenient) gesture, and I can see just how badly this man wants to win my heart. "Thank you," I say.

He indicates the table with his eyes. "I was informed that you did not have a chance to eat your dinner earlier, so I took the liberty of having the chef prepare something for us. He begs your pardon for sending us such simple fare, but in his defense, I gave him almost no notice."

The small table has been covered with a crisp, white linen cloth and set with a simple floral arrangement in a wide-based crystal vase. (Flowers? How did they do that? Are they real? They certainly look and smell real.) Our royal blue linen napkins are folded to look like Chinese fans, and there's a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket with two crystal coupes.

Our plates each contain a beautifully prepared steak, steamed asparagus, and a delicate-looking pasta in white sauce. Good God, what would the chef do with sufficient notice? And when the ship's not dancing the lambada? Soft music is playing through unseen speakers and the lights are low. I could get used to eating like this.

The crewman seats me first, then spreads my napkin onto my lap with a practiced flourish. He's obviously trained in the art of being a steward. The captain seats himself, then waves off the crewman's attempt to repeat the performance. "Thank you, Miguel," he says. "That will be all." Miguel bows and slips out the door almost noiselessly.

I look at the captain. "Thank you, Fernando. This is amazing."

He beams. "It pleases me that you like it. It is my intention to treat you very well." He carefully pours two glasses of champagne without spilling a drop. The man is obviously used to dealing with a pitching ship. "A toast," he says, "to our new life together."

"Hear hear," I say, and we gently clink glasses. The champagne is dry and delicious.

The meal is as tasty as it looks, easily the best thing I've eaten since the start of the war, but I decide that I will consume only half. Considering what's coming next, I need to be at the top of my game.

"Fernando," I say, after swallowing the first bite of my steak, "I'm assuming that you will be using some personal capital to keep Caiden out of the camps?"

He nods. "Yes, I will be calling in some favors, and my actions will likely be noted by my superiors."

"And two couples will not be receiving the blue-eyed American infants they would have otherwise?"

"Yes. A count was made of the children that were brought onboard. Adjustments will have to be made."

"People will certainly know that you've taken a mistress who would otherwise have been given to an official of your government, right?"

He nods. "They will know."

"That's what I assumed. So you've gone out on a limb to help me and the people I care most about. While I was getting ready, I had time to think about that. I appreciate what you've done for me. I really, truly do. So here is what I pledge to do for you in return. I intend to treat you as the man I would have picked out of all the men in the world. I will give you not just my body, but my affection, consideration, and maybe someday, my love." My face tells him that I am in complete earnest.

He smiles gratefully. "I can ask no more of you. Thank you, Alana."

We discuss the itinerary of the ship's next voyage. This will be its first trip to Europe in this capacity, but the captain says he has been to all of these ports before and would like to escort me to some of the more beautiful and historic sites there. I can't help thinking that by now the refugee situation in these cities must be horrendous and might make such outings difficult, so I change the subject.

"Fernando, passengers aren't allowed up here on the top level. What is it that you use it for?" I have a pretty good idea, but I'd like to hear what he says about it.

He smiles. "It is a matter of weight distribution. Because we must carry many times more foodstuffs than the ship was designed for, and because these are very heavy, we have placed them in what are usually the crew quarters, very low in the ship. And because we have less than a third of our designed crew complement, there is room for all of them on this upper deck. Since the crew spend less than a third of their time in their quarters, the weight up here, where it most effects the ship, is kept to a minimum."

"How many crew are there?"

"Twenty-eight. Plus me, of course."

"It's amazing how well you handle the ship with so few men," I say, noting in my head that I haven't seen any female crewmembers.

"Thank you. We do work very hard."

"You know, Fernando, I was impressed that you knew the author of the quote on Caiden's tattoo. Where were you educated?"

He smiles broadly, not quite disguising his pride. "I received a degree in International Studies from Columbia University in New York City. Most of the leaders of our revolution in fact received their degrees from Ivy League universities in the United States. It was from those institutions that we acquired our appreciation of class struggles and the superiority of Marxist systems of government."

I nod earnestly. "Very impressive."

He chuckles. "It is quite ironic that I did not actually learn of Patrick Henry from my college studies. Western Civilization was not a required course of study by then and was, in fact, rather frowned upon. I learned of America's founding fathers through my own reading."

"Well done. I'm self-educated myself. I believe that people should strive to continue to learn throughout their lives."

"Agreed," he says. He lifts his glass and we toast to that.

At last, we're done, and honest-to-God, he actually looks a little nervous about what comes next. If I'm going to treat him well by being considerate, I can ease his way into making that first move.

"Do you dance?" I ask. "I feel like dancing."

"Of course," he says, getting to his feet and handing me to mine. I come into his proffered arms and we begin to move together, swaying to the music and the motions of the ship.

I'm waiting for him, and it doesn't take long. He leans his face down slightly to mine. I meet his lips and we begin to kiss. I know how important it is to impress him, so I hold nothing back, kissing him with all I've got. Soon our tongues are dueling, and I feel his hands at the tie of my robe. I move my body away just far enough for him to undo the bow, and now I can press my bare skin against him.

I feel his hands at the collar of my garment, but I whisper in his ear. "Let's leave it on for now. Trust me, it'll be even better this way."

He nods, and his hands slide underneath, gliding up and down my body knowingly. The way he touches me says that, indeed, he's a skilled and experienced lover.

I reach down between us and unzip his pants, lightly rubbing his stiffness through the layers of fabric. He moans and thrusts a little against my hand. I begin to lower myself, moving my cheek down his chest as I unbutton his shirt. His chest is covered with a thick matte of hair and his belly is flat and hard. He shivers a little as I reach the top of his pants.

I move more urgently now, unbuckling his belt and releasing the button on his pants. The captain is wearing European-style micro briefs, and they do absolutely nothing to hide his full erection from me. He gasps as I press my open mouth to the head, right through the tight fabric. His hands begin to gently comb through my thick brunette hair, urging me to continue. I tease him a little, kissing up and down his length, still through the fabric.

When his hand flinches toward his briefs, then is willed back into place, I know it's time. I don't make him wait now, lowering the silly little garment until his stiff erection pops free. I take it into my mouth and get to work in earnest.

I hold the captain's cock at a comfortable angle and move up and down on it. From my time with Caiden, I now know how to best deal with a foreskin, and as I pull nearly off of him, I run my tongue around and around inside it, bathing his head. His enjoyment is blazingly obvious, but now it's time to get to the little surprise I have for him.

I take the captain to the back of my throat, then straight down it. He nearly jumps from the surprise, and now I know that no woman has ever deepthroated him before. I wrap my hands around his ass cheeks through his pants and pull him fully into me, then wiggle my head back and forth. He gasps, and for a moment I think he's going to lose his balance. But when he gets ahold of himself, I go for it.

I start throat fucking the captain with abandon, holding his hips and moving on him, sliding up and down on his cock. When I can hold my breath no longer, I come back up off him and just start to bathe his head again. Whatever happens, I don't want him to come just yet, so I monitor him closely.

When he's calmed down a little, I dive deep again, this time encouraging him to hold my head in his hands and fuck my throat. I'm impressed that even while experiencing something new and amazing like this, he's still as gentle as can be. Again, he's out before he gets too close to the edge.

After I've recovered, I take control of the deepthroating again, just sliding all the way down and wiggling for as long as I can force myself to hold my breath.

As I finish my fifth dive, I can feel that he's getting close, so I stand up and kiss his lips. He crushes me to him, and I feel his hard, needy cock press hard between my bare pussy lips. I can tell he's disappointed that I didn't actually bring him off with my mouth, but I want him to be needy for this next part.

"Fernando," I murmur, "would you do the same for me?" I can feel him stiffen a little. As I'd guessed, it's not in his wheelhouse to get on his knees to service a woman. I really need him to do this for me, though, and this is why I've pulled out all the stops to please him up to this point. I want him to feel obligated.

It works. "Of course, my dear Alana," he says magnanimously.

"We need to move to where I can put my leg up, mi amor," I murmur. He nods, and I step away from him, moving over next to the chair under the mantle. I prop my foot up, exposing myself fully to him. He smiles eagerly and walks up to me.

I've got to hand it to him. Once he's agreed to it, he does it up right. I moan as he kisses down my neck, runs his warm tongue across my clavicles, then begins to nuzzle my breasts. I gasp as he takes a nipple into his mouth. He looks up at me. "May I?"

Caiden tasted me on a couple of occasions, but was polite about keeping it to a minimum. I am feeding two growing children. This is for the cause, though, so I nod. He smiles and begins to suckle.

I wouldn't have pegged the captain as the kind of man who would get off on this, but it seems to really turn him on. He takes a few long pulls from my right breast, and then my left as his hand cups the other, feeling its weight, which is a lot more than normal these days.

Thankfully, he leaves my breasts before robbing too much nourishment from my children and drops to his knees before me, nuzzling my bush.

"Oh God, yes, Fernando," I moan wantonly. "I need you to eat me." He presses in and I feel his mouth on me. I wrap my robe around his head and shoulders, giving him a warm and intimate cavern in which to work.

He just kisses my outer lips at first, lipping my labia. "Oh yes, that's so good," I sigh. Then the critical moment comes.

The captain moves his tongue to my entrance. I'm ready for him now.

"What is wrong?" he asks, suddenly concerned. "You are completely-"

His words are cut off midsentence as I bring the heavy stone clock from the mantle down on his head with both hands, as hard as I can. He drops limply to the carpet.

"That's right, you fucking bastard," I snarl. "I'm bone dry. I don't lube for sexual predators." I'm so angry with him that, despite the fact that I've never tried to injure anyone before, I hope I've killed him.

I take a deep breath and try to calm some of my rage. I need to have a clear head for what comes next. I check on the captain. Jesus, did I really call him 'mi amor?' He's breathing, but doesn't respond at all when I slap his face hard a few times. Still, to be safe, I quickly pull out his shoelaces and hog tie him. I stuff one of his socks into his mouth for good measure.

Happily, his keys are in his pocket. There's a peculiarly shaped one on the ring that looks just like the one the crewman used on the elevator. I turn to grab my clothes, but they're gone. Crap, this isn't getting any easier.

A twenty second search of the suite doesn't reveal any clothes or shoes that would fit me, so the rest of this impossible rescue is going to have to happen in a bath robe and with bare feet.

Thankfully, there's no one in the hallway when I step out of the suite, so I go straight to the elevator, using the key to call the car. It seems to take forever, but eventually it opens and I press the button for Level 4, the "Marco Polo" deck, home to both the dining room and my stateroom. I need to gather reinforcements before heading down to the lowest level.

So far, my plan has gone swimmingly, but that all changes when the doors open. Miguel is waiting to get on.

His eyes widen. "You are not supposed to be here," he says, stepping in and taking my arm. He's not nearly as solicitous now.

I know the odds are long, but I have no choice. I pull free of his arm and take a swing. He's so unprepared that I actually connect with his jaw. To no apparent effect.

He's slender and a good four inches shorter than I am, even with his shoes on, but he has a man's upper body strength. I'm no match for him when he grabs me and throws me against the back of the elevator, face first. He takes my wrist and forces it up behind me. The pain is immobilizing, and I stop struggling. My robe has come open and my bare breasts press hard against cold stainless steel.

"I'm going to take you back to the captain now," he growls angrily. I think my punch may have hurt his ego, if nothing else. "I'm sure he will beat some sense into you, just like he did with his last mistress."

Well, there's that question answered. And I'm guessing that with what I've done, it's going to go very hard on me, on Caiden, and maybe even our kids. I feel like a fool for throwing away our best opportunity to improve our lots, but dammit, I had to try.

The crewman turns to the elevator's controls, but then there's the sound of a blow and he lets go of me, staggering against the far wall. Ty walks in and casually puts the crewman in the same hold he'd been using on me. "Was this guy bothering you?" he asks.

I step up and give him a big hug. "Oh my God. Thank you, Ty. We're in so much trouble right now. And by we, I do mean all of us."

Just then, Haley comes around the corner, lugging James in his carrier. "Hey, what's going on?" she asks, looking at the immobilized crewman, and at me, pretty much naked and hugging her husband. I let go of Ty and reach for the car's control panel.

"There's very little time," I say. "Do you guys trust me?"

"Of course," they say in almost perfect unison.

"Great." I push the button for level one. "Hop in, Haley."

On the ride down, I pull the Stop button and briefly tell them about the bargain the captain tried to make with me. (I don't mention just how far I had to go to get myself into a position where I could disable him, but from the way I'm dressed I'm sure they can draw some conclusions.) They look distinctly unhappy when they hear what's really going to happen to everyone when we arrive tomorrow.