Caribbean Passion Ch. 04

"WHAT?" cried Lucia. "A porn star?"

"Sssh!" said Lisa. "Let's talk about it back in the cabin."

After dinner, the two women made their way back to the cabin they shared. Lisa put on the gown she had slung on the bed before, while Lucia produced from her bag a slinky, skintight black number.

"Wow, that's nice," remarked Lisa.

"Yeah, thanks," said Lucia. "I've got a lot like that -- I'm a samba dancer."

"Awesome," said Lisa, rather taken by the dress. She could use one of those.

"So tell me the story," said Lucia, sitting down on her bed.

So Lisa told it. How she had been sexually abused by her father at 8 years of age, dropped out of school at 14, got in trouble with the law with drugs, become a topless model when a deadbeat boyfriend suggested it, then had been headhunted by a Playboy scout to work in one of their nightclubs. A customer there suggested she do a couple of porn movies, then she had decided to get out to work in a strip club. Then she had got bored with the sleazy punters and had taken the Social Hostess job to move up and out.

"The thing is, some creep at the office let on about my background to the ship's crew and now the Captain and the Greek deck officers onboard no longer respect me."

"Hmph." Lucia was still reeling from the story.

"At first they tried to come onto me, thinking I was available. They basically treated me like a hooker and I refused. So now they're bitter that they can't get some action and tell everybody how terrible I am, make gross jokes about me behind my back and -- well, you get the picture."

"Huh." Wow, this was something else, thought Lucia. A worry began in her mind. "Like, is this actually dangerous? Do I need to watch out -- you know, seriously, like, am I looking at rape and stuff?"

Lisa thought about this. From her level of experience, she shook her head. "No. I mean, just avoid the Greek officers. They're just a bunch of married men, cheating on their wives -- just another misogynistic crowd of losers, like any bunch of punters at a strip club who haven't got a chance. They'll harass and try to touch but there are none that are actually violent, scary or dangerous."

Lucia breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to know."

"You need to get ready," remarked Lisa, standing up.

"Yeah, you're right," agreed Lucia. "I'll get in the shower."

It was seven o'clock and the Rendezvous Lounge was on the 4th. floor. A small metallic dancefloor close to the bandstand at the front served as a stage, while rows of seats formed a semicircle around it. The Jazz Band were playing their set as Lisa and Lucia climbed the main staircase one level higher than the Pursers Office. Lisa was wearing her purple evening gown. Crinoline, with puff sleeves, a deep V bra pushing up her breasts into a fitted body, followed by elegant folds flowing out from the waist to end at her ankles. High-heeled strappy shoes, some amethyst earrings and styled, wavy hair completed her look. Lucia's hair was long, black, and swept off her face, behind her ears. Her little black dress featured shoulder straps that graced her beautiful neck and shoulders. The thin material caressed her full, round breasts and deep cleavage, then clung to her toned, tight abdomen, before wrapping around her trained thighs, revealing her tanned, long, dancer's legs, ending at some strappy high heels. She wore silver earrings and her exquisite face was made up with blood-red lipstick, long, mascara-ed eyelashes and just a touch of glitter.

The two of them sashayed into the Rendezvous Lounge and turned abruptly right into the back room that functioned as a dressing room for the talent who would be performing in the evening show.

In the middle of the small room stood Dave Richards, the Cruise Director. Six feet tall, with greying hair, his once-handsome face was somewhat lined with the fifty-something years of life he had seen. Still, he was in reasonably good shape and hadn't developed the embarrassing pot-bellied "dad bod" so many other men of his age had succumbed to. A Vietnam Veteran, he had learned fast back in the jungle that you needed to be fit to survive -- not just the four minutes of combat that other men survived before they took a bullet, but the whole battle, plus the war, too. Standing there in his tuxedo for the evening, he adjusted his black bowtie in the mirror, while two dancing girls in slinky, glittery dresses touched up their make-up in front of him. He looked up when Lisa walked in, with an expectant, show-me raised eyebrow.

"Lisa, you're on in ten minutes -- don't screw it up," he began. He saw Lucia and his eyes widened, his demeanour changed. "Well, who do we have here?" He took in Lucia's tumbling tresses, shimmering olive skin, sinuous body that seemed stuck on the thin, black dress she wore, the fullness of her bust and long, muscled, graceful legs. Wow, he thought. If he was about thirty years younger...

"This is Lucia," explained Lisa. "From Brazil -- she's the new Social Hostess."

Dave stuck out a hand. "Dave Richards -- Cruise Director."

"Otherwise known as -- your boss," interjected Lisa.

Lucia smiled and took his hands, giving him her full, fifty-thousand kilowatt smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Richards," she began.

"Dave -- please! No last names here," replied Dave, smiling.

"Dave," repeated Lucia. He seemed warm, firm, authoritative.

He turned to Lisa. "Lisa -- go to greet the guests at the Rendezvous door as they come in. I'll MC the show at the start like normal, but later I want you to intro the dancers."

"Right," replied Lisa, noncommittally. She turned swiftly around and walked out, glancing over her shoulder at Lucia. "See ya," she remarked.

Lucia turned to her as she left, smiling at Lisa. "Later," she replied.

Dave Richards cleared his throat and Lucia turned to him. "Right, has Lisa filled you in on your job responsibilities?"

"Pretty much. She told me most of it over dinner in the Mess."

"OK," said the Cruise Director. "We're a little understaffed this cruise. We've got these two dancers here -" he jerked his thumb behind him at the two women making up their faces behind him - "but no male dancer 'til next Canaveral day. I heard from shoreside that you have dancing experience."

"Yeah," replied Lucia, brightening up to her favourite topic. "I've won various awards in samba in Rio at local level, plus some regional."

"Great," Richards went on. "The thing is, these girls here are professional."

"Oh, well, so am I. I've been paid money for prizes."

"Really? Any club work or theatre?"

"Er, no."

"Uh-huh," said Richards. "I thought as much. Oh, hey - just a thought -- maybe I shouldn't ask this but -- have you done any kind of strip club stuff?"

Lucia was taken aback. "Oh! Not at all -- I mean -"

"No, it's OK," said Richards. He shrugged his shoulders and jerked his thumb in the direction of the entrance. "It's just that our current Hostess..."

Lucia straightened up. "Don't worry," she said. "I haven't."

Dave Richards looked Lucia in the eye and saw the honesty. Immediately, he felt bad for asking the question. "Sorry," he said, looking down. "It's just that my department's trying to live down an image right now on the ship, thanks to you-know-who."

Lucia felt some irritation at this. "OK. I get it." She wasn't going to put up with people badmouthing Lisa. She guessed he knew about the sex work, too - bet he didn't know about the child sex abuse and deadbeat boyfriend that caused it, though.

Dave sighed awkwardly. "Yeah, well, anyway - the situation is that we don't have a professional male dancer this cruise. Our ship DJ's from Colombia and a reasonable Latin dancer -- quite energetic, but an amateur. The girls aren't happy dancing with him for this reason. I know you've been paid for your dancing in the past but, importantly, the company's not paying you to be a dancer - but a Social Hostess. So in this gig, you're regarded as an amateur because you're paid to be a Hostess."

"So..."

"In the Cruise Department, we all work together to entertain the passengers and provide a set roster of talent. We've got a Jazz Band in here, Calypso Band out on the back deck, DJ down below on First Deck, professional nightclub talent, like the Comedian and Singer, plus a Shorex Manager, my deputy and general Cruise Staff who do activities, plus Lisa as Hostess -- quite a big team."

"Hmmm, I can see that."

"So roles have to be fulfilled even when we're understaffed. We muck in and make do. 'The show must go on', as they say in showbiz!"

"Right!"

"So the deal is -- can you help us out with the warm-up dance routine tonight? Usually we have a male dancer who dances Latin with one of the girls as a warm-up, then have the other girl on during the intermission."

"Sure!" cried Lucia, excited. "That would be great!"

"Awesome!" replied Dave, pleased. "This time we'll have you and Ramon -- that's the DJ -- on first, then the girls will do a two-girl number in the break."

"Fine!" said Lucia. "When do I start?"

"In about fifteen minutes," remarked Dave.

"What!" said Lucia, concerned. "I haven't practised or anything!"

"Don't worry. Just get out there with Ramon, follow his lead and do whatever takes your fancy. Make it up as you go along! It's under ten minutes and it doesn't have to be anything amazing -- just good enough to entertain the passengers and give them something to look at as a warm-up."

Lucia hesitated, then agreed. "OK!"

"Good girl," smiled Dave. "I'll get Ramon." He turned to the other women. "You two, hurry up." Then he suddenly stood up straight and walked out.

The three women looked at each other.

After a pause, Lucia interjected and said, "Hi! Lucia - from Brazil."

On her left was a shorter Hispanic woman, about twenty-four, it seemed, with passionate eyes, blood-red lips, jet-black hair, va-va-voom breasts that seemed bigger than Lucia's own, a deep, deep cleavage and seemingly poured into a sultry red dress that revealed black-stockinged long legs and killer red high heels. She looked at Lisa with fiery eyes, as if to challenge her, and didn't seem too happy to see her. "Carmen," she replied. "From Venezuela." She delivered the words in what seemed like a Betty Boop voice with a Latin tinge.

The other woman was taller than Carmen, slender and svelte, almost unhealthily so, it seemed, until Lucia saw her trained, muscled, long legs, that told her this woman had serious dancing experience. Her thin, elegant arms were revealed by a white, sleeveless evening gown, long to the floor but slit high to the upper thigh, revealing her shapely legs. The dress fit well over her long torso and did a good job emphasizing her more modest B-cup breasts. Her hair was long and straight, dyed peroxide blond, presumably from a bottle, a slightly disappointing feature, to Lucia's mind, to an otherwise elegant, young woman. "I'm Estella -- I'm from Chile. I dance ballroom. She -", said Estella, gesturing towards Carmen, "dances Latin."

"Merengue, to be exact," remarked Carmen, sauntering over to Lucia. "Club Latin's my forte -- Ramon can dance it, too."

"So can I," countered Lucia, not wanting to compete but not wanting to look like the amateur she was having to be. "I prefer samba, though."

"Typical Braziliano," smiled Carmen.

"It's sexier," responded Lucia, looking up and down at Carmen. With any luck, Carmen would get the message.

"HOLA!" yelled a voice. The women turned to look as a smiling, Hispanic guy suddenly appeared in the doorway. He was short, with jet-black hair, with a round, baby face and impish smile. He wore a satin, black waistcoat, with a deep V at the front, showing off trained pecs and creamy skin. From his sides, two well-muscled arms, bare to his developed shoulders, then a tight waist led to black, satin trousers and shiny black shoes. He looked like a Hispanic Tom Cruise. "Eh, I'm dancing tonight -- there's a new girl!" He looked around at Carmen and Estella, then caught sight of Lucia. He looked her up and down approvingly. "Wow, ciao bella! Truly bellissima! I love hot, sexy women!"

"Hey, you're Ramon -" Lucia began.

"Yeah, baby, that's me! Come on, let's dance tonight!"

"What the -"

"Hahaha!" laughed Ramon. "I'm the DJ, too! Dance for me, baby!"

"Well, I'm not dancing with this guy -" began Lucia.

"Oh, baby, why not?"

"RAMON!" yelled Carmen.

"Ramon, quit that junk. This is Lucia. She's from Brazil!"

Ramon stopped moving around but kept smiling, offering an outstretched hand. "Lucia! I'm Ramon, from Argentina. We're dancing tonight?"

Estella answered. "I guess so. Dave said the new guy's not coming this cruise. He'll be on the next one. You're dancing amateur with Lucia."

"Huh!" said Lucia. "I'm not so sure about this now. There's just no way -"

Carmen interrupted. "Don't worry -- he's better than he looks. I've watched him dance before." She eyed Ramon. "He's actually quite good, if you can put up with his garbage."

"Well, I -" started Lucia.

"He doesn't look bad, either," continued Carmen.

Ramon turned to Carmen, smiled and winked.

Lucia felt annoyed. She took a step forward. "Listen, smart guy -- I'm a champion dancer in samba in Brazil -- I know what I'm doing. I just hope you do." With that, she pushed his shoulder, turned on her heel and walked out.

Dave Richards suddenly blocked her path. "Lucia! The show starts in five!"

"Fine," stated Lucia, walking past him. She found a chair by the back wall of the Rendezvous Lounge and sat down on it. Huh! What was this she had got herself into? Who was this nut she had to dance with? Why was Carmen being unfriendly? What's with the fake blonde? What about the porn star? What kind of job was this anyway, and why had she signed up to join this ship?

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER AND WELCOME YOUR CRUISE DIRECTOR, DAVE RICHARDS!" The booming voice was followed by an enthusiastic round of applause from the passengers seated in the semicircular rows surrounding the metallic stage dancefloor in the middle of the Rendezvous Lounge. Dave Richards walked out in his tuxedo, carrying a microphone. Addressing the crowd, he blinked in the spotlight as he began his usual opening spiel -- how delighted he was that the passengers had shown up, how great he felt tonight's show would be, how he was sure they would have a sensational time. He then segued into his 10-minute stand-up comedy routine.

It was a slick performance, Lucia thought, although there was a slight tone in Richards' voice that suggested he had done this routine a few too many times. Lucia's thought was correct, since this was a two-day cruise, so Richards performed this routine literally every other night. His jokes were more or less the same each time -- the same wry observations on life, occasional asides about passengers in the front row, and then a riff on how dumb people from the Midwest were, delivered in a mix of deadpan humour mixed with folksiness that allowed him to make such remarks without offending anyone.

Lucia was just getting into it when Lisa suddenly tapped her shoulder and hissed, "Get up, Lucia! You're on next!"

Lucia jumped up. "OK!" she cried, making for the dressing room.

"I'll introduce you and then you come on with Ramon!"

"Right!" Lucia had just got to the dressing room door when Ramon suddenly appeared, blocking it. Lucia impatiently waved him through, then went inside to look in the mirror and check her make-up and outfit. Just then, she heard Dave Richards' voice.

"Well, now, that's enough from me. Let's get on with the show -- and here to welcome our first act is Lisa, our lovely Social Hostess for the cruise!"

Wow, thought Lucia -- it's time. She bolted out of the door to join Ramon at the edge of the stage.

Standing next to him, she suddenly realised how much shorter he was -- she was tall and curvy, while he was short, with a stockiness that came from his muscles and working out. There was at least a six-inch difference in height. Ramon smiled at her in his impish way. Lucia sighed and looked elsewhere. It's only ten minutes, she reminded herself.

Lisa was onstage and introducing them. "Tonight, as a warm-up act for our main performance, we have our resident ship DJ and our new Social Hostess, in their hot Latin amateur dance number! Please welcome, Ramon and Lucia!" With a flourish, Lisa Johnson swept off the stage in her evening gown, the music started, the audience applauded, and they were on!

Ramon waited until the intro was complete and the first bar of the main refrain began.

At least he knows that, thought Lucia.

Then suddenly, he grabbed Lucia's hands and moved onto the stage. It was a merengue number, so Ramon began energetically, moving Lucia backwards across the floor. Lucia moved her hips and began the steps, looking down at times to see where Ramon's hips were so she could compliment that with her own movements.

The music filled the air around her and Lucia was surprised. Ramon was better than she thought. She could see that he didn't have the practised moves of a professional -- not like Jorge at home, who would seamlessly move in tandem with her, so that they would flow like a river across the floor. That came with hours of practice and as the result of the opprobrium of judges, who would assess everything; no, Ramon was different.

His was the unpractised enthusiasm of the street performer, the impromptu energy of the young boy from the slums who just danced to escape the relentless misery of life in the favelas.

The song went on, and Ramon's body began to glisten as they moved around the dancefloor. The pumping beat added to the rising cheer of the audience, whose interest had begun to rise into excitement. Lucia could feel the rhythm permeate her soul, the lights and sound dazzling her senses and she felt that familiar rising river-like feeling moving slowly up her chest and into her heart as she began to lose control.

She glanced at Ramon. She was taken by surprise at his dazzling, Tom Cruise smile, his happy laugh and infectious enthusiasm. Despite herself, she smiled as her body responded with a sudden, greater burst of flair. The audience noticed and a cheer went up.

Lucia's eyes moved lower. For what seemed like the first time, she noticed his muscled chest, with prominent pecs, now shiny and damp and on display in the V of his black waistcoat, then his strong arms, where she could just make out in the spotlight the gleam from trained biceps as they flashed by. His V-shaped torso bucked and undulated, crackling with energy and seething with strength.

This sight caused a sudden rawness of desire in her heart that rocketed down lower, sending a white-hot bolt of molten desire into her pussy. Surprised, there was a newness to the feeling that took her breath away and forced a growl through her gritted teeth as she looked up at the ceiling.

With a sudden vigour, she lost control as Ramon spun her around. He could feel that she had responded to his energy and laughed with abandon as the song neared its end. Finally, Lucia finished with a dramatic sway of hips and a flurry of long, dark hair as Ramon's hand moved her to centre stage. The music ended and the crowd roared as they stood in the middle of the stage. They made a bow, then walked off, hand-in-hand.

Lisa walked back on, microphone in hand, wide-eyed. "Wow!" she yelled into the microphone, turning to face the audience. "That was incredible! Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it again for Ramon and Lucia!"

The two dancers turned back to the stage and, standing at the edge, smiled and gave another bow. Walking off again, Lisa then commenced speaking again, beginning to introduce the next segment.

Walking towards the exit, Dave Richards approached. "Wow, that was great, guys! Incredible!"