On Charter in the Med

"All crew, lay to the pier to greet arriving guests," squawked the captain's voice on the handheld radio. I finished tucking my white shirt into black dress pants, clipped the radio to my belt, and headed for the gangway connecting the Motor Yacht Horizon to the concrete pier.

The boat was moored stern to the dock in the middle of a row of similarly large yachts in a sun-drenched Greek harbor. I shuffled to my place in the receiving line next to the captain. As his first mate, I was his second-in-command and responsible for most of the daily running of the yacht. As was my job, I cast an eye over our team decked out in their white uniforms with gold-striped epaulets. I found nothing out of place.

I took stock of the guests as they came down the pier. The primary charter guest was a wealthy American business owner from California. He was a fit man in his sixties with short-cropped graying hair, reflective sunglasses, and an expensive-looking sport coat worn over slacks. The slightly younger and still beautiful woman at his side was his wife. Their son looked like he spent a lot of time in the gym and on the tanning bed. His teeth glowed an unnaturally bleached and perfect white. He was close to my age and dressed in a coat like his father.

Next came the two daughters, who were both stunning. The oldest wore too much makeup and hair product for my taste, but there was beauty to be sure. In my opinion, her younger sister was by far the more beautiful. Unlike the rest of the family, she affected a natural style, though she was fit. Her perfect body showed in her clingy sundress.

The guests made their way down the line of crew. We introduced ourselves and received fake smiles from our new charges. Only the youngest girl greeted us with genuine friendliness. She was the last down the line and took the longest. The rest of the family found themselves waiting awkwardly by the gangway for her to finish her small talk. I gathered from the way the mother and older daughter rolled their eyes at each other that this was a common occurrence.

After the pleasantries were wrapped up, the stewardesses took the guests on a tour of the boat and gave them a safety brief. I had a word with the bosun, and the deck team prepared to handle the yacht's lines and fenders. After that, I jumped up to the pilot house to assist the captain as we pulled out of the crowded harbor. As always, I marveled at the sparkling water, the white rocks, and the town's whitewashed houses under a clear blue sky. On the end of the stone jetty as we cleared the harbor into the open azure water of the Mediterranean, a blue and white Greek flag flapped crisply in the warm breeze.

Out of the restricted waters of the harbor, the captain left me to navigate the large vessel toward the next destination. By the afternoon, we would anchor off another stunning island so the guests could make use of the jet skis and other water toys we carried on board for their amusement.

After a few hours of watch, the captain came back up to the bridge and told me I could go below to get a break. Grateful for a rest from staring at the shimmering horizon, I went below.

On the way to my stateroom, I did a quick round of Horizon to make sure everything was in order. Passing through the main saloon, I saw the younger daughter of the guest family standing near the bar as if she was waiting for something. Seeing no one else around, I wondered if I could help. I took notice of the form-fitting athletic shorts and sports bra she was wearing now, as well as her skin glistening with sweat. Even in an industry where we frequently hosted the rich and attractive onboard, she stood out as a beauty. She turned as she noticed me coming over and lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

"Hi," she said with a winning smile, "do you think I could have a beer?"

"Of course," I said. Even though service wasn't my job, I wasn't about to leave a guest waiting around for a simple request. I walked behind the bar and found cold beer in the fridge. The girl received it gratefully. To my surprise, instead of walking back to rejoin the other guests with her drink, she sat down on one of the bar stools. She looked like she wanted to keep chatting. A little intrigued, I hesitated before leaving.

"How long have you been in yachting?" she asked before taking a causal swig of cold beer.

"Almost ten years, ma'am. Before that, I was in the Navy.

"Please, call me Claire. You're an American?"

"That's right. Doesn't the accent give me away?"

"Well, yes, but you never know. I've met continental Europeans who speak English exactly like a Brit or an American depending on where they learned it. "

"True," I agreed.

"Do you like it? I guess it's like serving drinks anywhere, except the bar floats around the world, right?"

For a moment I was confused, but then I realized her mistake. "Well actually, I am one of the navigation officers. I'm the first mate, second in charge next to the captain. Usually, one of the stewardesses-- the nice girls that showed you around before -- would take care of refreshments. Although there is a lot more that goes into their job as well."

"I'm so sorry," she said, mortified that she might have made a faux pas. "And here I am asking you to fetch drinks."

"Not at all," I quickly assured her. "It's my pleasure. It's the job of everyone in the crew to make sure you have anything at all that you need. You should have the time of your life while you are with us."

"You all wear the same uniforms, so I wasn't aware of who did what. I'm still learning everyone's name."

"It's okay. I'm Rob." I pointed to the striped epaulets on my shoulder. "If you want to know how to tell the crew apart, the captain wears four stripes with an anchor, I wear three stripes with an anchor. The deckhands and the bosun, who work outside on the deck, also wear anchors but with fewer stripes. The engineering staff wears little propellers on their epaulets. They work on the machinery. The stewardesses wear little moons and the chef wears a fork and knife."

"Oh, cool," she said, with interest. "It's always so interesting to learn the little details of a new world. Isn't stewardess an outdated term, though?"

I shook my head. "Not in this context. It's still the usual term in yachting."

"How did you get into this?"

"Well, in the Navy, I learned a little bit about ships, which I liked, but I didn't like the people in my unit. Maybe I would have stayed in if I had ended up working on a different ship, but I decided to get out. Looking around for my next opportunity, I discovered yachting as a way to keep sailing but with better pay and a more enjoyable backdrop. I started on deck, became a bosun, and then got hired onto Horizon as first mate."

"That's a really impressive story."

I shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "It's a story. We all come from somewhere."

"No, really. It seems like you made your own way to where you are."

I shrugged. "It's nothing compared to building a business like your father," I said, deflecting the conversation away from myself. "He's not only made his own way but employs other people, too."

Now it was her turn to shrug. "Daddy comes from money, though. Not to say that he hasn't worked hard, but my grandfather gave him the money to get started and sent him through business school."

I nodded noncommittally. I'd never agree with anything critical of a guest. Maybe I should change the topic completely.

"Where is the rest of the family?"

"Up on deck," she said pointing up with her thumb. "We did a workout together. They are all pretty militant about fitness. Daddy worries a lot about health and wellness. He's not a doctor, but his company makes medical equipment, so he works with a lot of docs. My sister's a doctor. I quit working out when I felt like it was enough, but they all wanted to do more. I didn't fly to Greece just to work out."

"Well, fitness is important, I suppose."

She shrugged again. "Sure, I like to stay fit. But I think it's more about image and looks than health for them. Otherwise, they wouldn't spend all the time they do in the sun and tanning beds."

I had noticed that the rest of the family was considerably tanner than Claire, who had healthier-looking natural skin. Her sister looked very tan indeed, which contrasted too sharply with her bleach-bottle blonde hair. Once again, I caught myself admiring Claire's more genuine looks. She noticed my gaze and smiled. I looked away, picked up the towel on the bar, and wiped away some drops of water. She was still smiling as she watched me.

"Well, then, what did you want to do in Greece?" I asked, once again changing the subject away from any criticism of the other guests.

Claire gestured at the beer and the view from the windows of the saloon. "This, I guess. Take in the sights, enjoy myself, and hopefully eat some good food. What I would really like is to get off the boat and explore the islands."

"That can probably be arranged. Most of the time we'll be among islands."

"I'd have to go myself. I think the rest of the family wants to just relax on board."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"Not really. It doesn't bother me to spend my time away from them. I don't think they mind either. Don't get me wrong, we all love each other very much, but I don't fit in as much anymore." She finished her beer and I opened her another without needing to be asked.

"Why not?" I asked. I immediately wished I hadn't said that. I should not be prying further into the family's business. In fact, I should probably be moving on in general, but her smile was so inviting. I was enjoying her company. I told myself I was just being attentive to her needs.

Claire sat back comfortably on the high-backed bar stool and took another drink. "I don't want to follow the family plan. Lance is going to inherit the company, as a first-born son should." She rolled her eyes. "My sister is a hot-shot plastic surgeon and I am supposed to do something like that as well. Maybe med school, maybe law school, I don't know. But I have to do some great thing and also marry some other rich kid, and have rich babies of my own." She sighed deeply.

"That sounds like a lot of pressure."

"Maybe, but really, I just want to live a normal life. I had a realization in college that my family lived very differently than most people. I was quiet about the kind of family I came from and I made friends who weren't like that."

"You just want to make your own way." It suddenly made sense to me why she had focused on my story.

"Yeah." She nodded. "I think that's it. I just graduated and I don't have plans for what's next. That's been a source of friction." She set her bottle down and leaned forward in her chair. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm naïve. I know I've had every opportunity. And it's not that I'm ungrateful either, I just want to follow a different path than them. I haven't really enjoyed the society that they keep either. Like I said, in college, I made friends that were very different."

"No, I think that makes sense." Claire smiled at my recognition of her desire for independence.

"Would you like to join me in a drink? This is nice."

"I'd love to, but I am afraid I am not allowed while we are on charter."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I don't want to get you in trouble." Judging by her smile, Claire had no problem finding trouble.

"No worry," I said with a smile. "It's been nice chatting." I saw one of the stews coming into the saloon from the deck carrying a tray. She made a curious face at me standing behind the bar. I felt my face flush a little bit. "Well," I said, "I see that Melanie is here if you need anything. I actually have to head below." Claire gave me another friendly smile as we said goodbye.

I was chiding myself as I made my way to my cabin. It was one thing to interact with a guest, it was another to have such a personal conversation about her family. It was incredibly inappropriate if anyone thought I was flirting. It was beyond unprofessional. I had thought I detected a bit of a smirk in Melanie's expression, as well. I would need to be more careful if I wanted to continue in this line of work, I told myself.

Less than an hour later, I was summoned to the bridge by my radio squawking again. I got up from my bunk where I had been taking a cat nap, splashed some water on my face, and straightened my uniform. In the back of my head was a worry that Melanie had said something to the captain about my over-familiarity with Claire, but I could honestly say that nothing had happened. I probably wouldn't have thought about it for a second if I wasn't feeling guilty. I knew I had let the conversation take a personal turn because I was attracted to her.

When I walked up the ladder into the bridge, the captain was standing there with Claire's father. Their expressions betrayed nothing.

"Yes, sir," I said, "how can I be of service?"

It was the captain who answered. "Mr. Davis's daughter, Claire, has expressed a desire to go ashore for some local culture this afternoon."

"Of course, Captain, I can have a tender bring her to one of the islands. I believe there are some good options in the area."

"Mr. Davis would like someone to accompany her as well," said the captain gesturing to Mr. Davis.

"Of course, sir," I said with a nod to the charter guest, "I can detail a deckhand or a stewardess to go with her as a guide."

"Yes, that's what your captain suggested," Mr. Davis interrupted, "but that's not what I had in mind."

"Oh?"

"Mr. Davis is concerned that most of the crew is close in age to his daughter. He thinks that one of her peers might not be much of a chaperone," said the captain.

Yikes, I thought. A chaperone? Claire was an adult who had been to college on her own. This seemed a bit much.

"I've assured him that our crew is entirely professional, but he would like someone a little older to accompany her for safety."

"That's where you come in, I think," said Mr. Davis pointing at me.

"Me?"

The captain nodded. "While I hate to have you away from the boat, I've agreed to spare you to accompany Claire on an outing in the town. You're just a few years older than the rest of the hands." The captain gestured with his thumb toward the nearest island. "I believe you know this place?"

"Uh, yes, I do."

"Great," said Mr. Davis, "then you can show her around. Thanks."

Having gotten what he came for, and being a man accustomed to always getting what he wanted, he turned and left the bridge without further comment.

The captain shrugged. "This seems a little silly, but it shouldn't be too much hassle. If it makes the client happy, I'm happy."

"Of course, sir."

"Thanks, Rob." The captain patted my back and turned back to his paperwork. I went down to change into a uniform polo, shorts, and shoes that would be comfortable for a day of walking.

As I made my way aft to the tender, I smiled at the realization that I was going to spend the day with Claire. I was going to need to be careful, or I might get myself into trouble.

Claire met me at the swim platform at the back of the vessel. One of the deck crew had the tender ready for us and we climbed aboard. The deckhand helped Claire make the tricky step onto the little boat and tossed the painter line over. I took my place at the helm and backed the little craft away from the yacht. Claire sat on one of the comfortable benches and stretched her legs out in the sun as I throttled up the tender and steered toward the shore.

The craft bounced over the small blue waves as we zipped toward the island. Claire yelped and laughed when spray sprinkled over us as we took a larger swell. The saltwater shower was cooling against the heat of the bright Mediterranean sun.

As we pulled through the jetties of the old harbor, Claire sat up in her seat to take in the sight of the town. In ancient times, the little harbor would have been this small community's gateway to the wider world. A tiny square packed with outdoor tables abutted the seawall and a warren of narrow streets crowded around. Down each street, a mix of tourist shops and local stores were open for business. The crowd was a blend of sunburned holidaymakers and locals going about their day.

I tied up the boat, helped Claire step ashore, and made arrangements with the harbor master. With the tender secure, Claire and I strolled up the dock and dived into the narrow streets of the town. Claire was keen to check out the shops and meet the people. She had a good eye for which stores were tourist traps and which were truly interesting. She spent time chatting with all of the shopkeepers that could speak English and, through smiles and gestures, still managed to effortlessly charm any of the staff that only spoke local Greek.

Having explored the alleys near the dock, we made our way over to where a beach flanked the harbor. Down on the sand, there was a beach bar and a DJ played party tunes for the tourists who downed cocktails and Greek beer.

"Oh, let's go dance!" Claire said and pulled on my arm in the direction of the partiers.

I held back. "Um, I don't think that I can. You can dance if you want, obviously, but I probably shouldn't."

"I don't want to dance by myself."

I gestured at the uniform polo I wore. "It wouldn't be appropriate. I might know people from the yachtie community here. I could get in trouble dancing with a guest if someone found out."

"So, take it off," she said with a wicked smile. I shook my head and laughed in reply. "Go on," she said, "you could buy a shirt if you'd rather change."

I let out a long sigh. "All right, I saw a shirt in that last shop I liked," I said with resignation. Claire pumped a fist in mock celebration.

Five minutes later, I was sporting a nice new shirt and allowing Claire to lead me to the spot on the beach that passed for a dancefloor. It wasn't crowded. The people here were all sunburned tourists in various stages of inebriation. More revelers clustered around the beach bar.

Claire was an excellent dancer. I started a little tentatively, but her infectious sense of fun won me over. Soon, I pushed aside my anxiety at being recognized with a charter guest. I told myself I was just humoring a client, but as Claire rocked her body against mine to the rhythm of the music, I was being carried away in the moment. As we became more comfortable, I found my hands were holding Claire at her waist and she had her arms around my neck. I was grinning and her face was flushed with exertion and happiness as we danced.

Without thinking about it, I leaned in to kiss her. Claire returned the kiss as we pressed our bodies closer together. As the other partygoers danced around us without paying us any attention, we stood kissing for a long moment. I tasted the salt of the sea spray on her lips and I squeezed her a little tighter.

We broke off the kiss as the song ended and the crowd around us picked up the beat of the next tune. Claire and I took up the dance as well. The next song did not lend itself to close dancing, so the moment passed.

"I didn't think that kind of thing was allowed," Claire teased with a smile.

"Definitely not."

"So do you regret it then?" she probed playfully.

"Definitely not." She laughed in response as we carried on dancing.

"I'm starting to need a break," Claire said. "Do you want a drink?"

"You can get one, but I can't on duty."

"Oh, that's right. But I bet you're not supposed to make out with guests on duty either," she said with a grin.

"True, but this is different. It's a safety thing. I have to run the tender and go on watch later."

"Well, when you put it like that." She feigned annoyance, but she respected the point. I had water while she had both water and a Greek beer.