Seven Days Aboard

It was the wrong strategy if I wanted to hurry Dale, who burst out laughing. He didn't pull his head away, but he was laughing far too hard for a bit to really continue, much less hurry up. I guessed he still was feeling plenty of nerves himself to get so borderline hysterical at what I had said. Even his clever fingers stopped their work.

"For fuck's sake, I'm serious," I wailed loudly, pulling his head down again. "Eat me, for crying out loud!"

I had never been with a man that was so... assertively compliant? He made me work to pull his face back against me, not because he was reluctant, or still seeking oxygen, but because he knew it was driving me even more nuts.

"Dale!"

"I'm not leaving," he mumbled firmly, "until I'm done."

"Fuck!" I gasped, collapsing backward onto the sand. There was no way I was going to stop him. It was better to enjoy it.

Yeah, that was the smart play. Enjoy the fuck out of it. If the driver came looking for us on a nude beach, he'd get the view he deserved...

I opened my eyes. Yes, we were lying out in the open on a beach. But it was the most glorious setting I had ever imagined. It was a literal fucking tropical paradise, and I was getting the best oral that I had ever conceived of, much less actually experienced.

I lay back and reveled in being eaten alive by this amazing man.

The sun struck my chest, my face, my legs. My nethers were covered, of course.

Para. Dise.

But he was not reckless, deep down I sensed that and relished it too. He picked up the pace.

His fingers, which had long ago found my G, now began to saw in and out of me, stroking it with each penetration. And his tongue stroked my clit eagerly, though only on the left-hand side for some strange reason. It was an odd, tiny, and irrelevant detail, but I focused on it. It helped me hold off coming the second time, helped me extend this heavenly moment. The moment that a minute ago I had been demanding to hurry up and arrive.

Yeah, yeah, sure. Taxi's coming. Submarine captains jacking off with their eyes glued to their periscope offshore. Yada, yada, yada. I wasn't ready for this to end.

But my body was.

With a rush that seemed instantaneous and yet minutes long, but which probably only lasted seconds, I felt my insides bunch up like a sprinter in the blocks and then suddenly release. I yelled at the top of my lungs every profanity I could manage to apply to either thanks or congratulations as my body exploded.

The blue I saw this time was the blue of the sky as my eyes shot open along with my mouth. My voice wanted to keep screaming, but I fell silent, either from lack of air or some strange desire to leave this tableau suddenly unsullied by cries of, "Holy Fuck, Dale! You are wrecking me!"

This time, I did shove him away. Hard. He lifted away from me without complaint, and sat back on his haunches as I curled up and gasped for air.

"Jesus, you're good," I finally managed to utter, flopping back onto my back.

"Not as good as you," he replied firmly. "And," he added, looking at his own watch, "we still have twenty minutes. We have time to jump in the water and get the smell of awesomeness off of us."

We both laughed, then as one, we rose and dashed into the water.

Which was fucking cold.

But it did the trick, and after a moment's immersion, and some token splashing, we were racing back to the beach and the warm sun.

I looked at my bag. "Suits," I said firmly. "I'll bet our friendly cab driver is a perv and sent us to a nude beach, just so he could get back here early and spy on us."

"Fuck, you think so?" Dale asked, suddenly freaked himself. We slid into our suits as fast as we could. "He wouldn't, would he?" He looked at me, standing beside him in my bikini. "He probably would. At least, I would have."

"Let's go run up the path and see if his car is here already," I said. We shared a look, and sprinted as fast as we could manage through the soft sand back to the path. When we reached the parking lot, there was no cab. There was no dust in the air, and only some light traffic on the road. I think we were both almost disappointed that our driver was not a peeping tom.

Five minutes later, his beat-up minivan rolled around the bend in the road. He pulled up to us, his window rolled down.

"You are out here already? We have much time before your ship blows its horn," he said, his black face crinkled in concern. "Did you not have fun?"

"You might have told us it was a nude beach," I said as we climbed in the back.

"Oh..." he said, clearing his throat. "I thought that you would... Were there others on the beach, embarrassing you with their nakedness?"

"Oh, there were naked people all right," Dale chuckled. I elbowed him discretely.

"And this embarrassed you? It is clothing optional, not nude," our driver said swiftly.

"We managed," I said, and Dale elbowed me back.

"But it could not have been crowded," our driver probed, concern still in his voice.

"Oh no, it was quite sparsely populated," Dale replied.

"Good, then I got that right for you," the driver said, brightening.

I was pretty sure he had not been spying on us. He was too concerned about his tip... which was going to be gigantic.

The drive back was long, and Dale and I were understandably a little wrung out. Our driver kept us awake, barely, with questions about our ship, and about America, where he had never visited. The guy had travelled to Switzerland, France, and Morocco, but not the United States. Go figure.

We pulled up to the cruise port later than I would have liked, and we hustled along the long concrete pier towards the ship. The first whistle blew, and we moved faster. We did not want to be those people we had each seen in the past, running for the the ship while the gangway pulled up.

"It has been a hot day, in so many ways," Dale panted as we half ran.

"Sure beats being back in Buffalo, doesn't it?" I laughed.

"Buffalo sucks in the winter," he agreed. "That's why I moved away as soon as I could. I live in down in Arlington, Texas now. It's a glorious city where people think forty degrees is cold."

...!

Arlington?

Arlington?!?

Fuck.

Fuck.

Oh God, fuck!

We dashed up to security, my mind reeling. We were through in a flash, and I stared at Dale in confusion. "Uh, my buddies will be worried that I might have missed departure," I practically gleeped. "See you!"

And I fled up the forward stairwell as fast as I could run.

Kimmie's and my apartment in the Dallas suburb of Irving is less than twenty minutes from old Cowboys Stadium... in the heart of Arlington. Dale and I were practically neighbors.

DAY SIX

I woke early, after a terrible night's sleep. I had found the worst place to eat on board the prior night for dinner, unable to deal with sitting near Dale at that moment. Also, my friends had all had dates, with whom I did not know, so I did not want to go to the dining room to eat with the swingers by myself. I supposed I could have handled them, but this way, I did not have to look at Dale, strengthening afresh the panic he was instilling in me.

I had been intending to stay aloof, and not fucking slut it up on this cruise, because I wanted to find a guy to last for a while, if not longer, back in Texas. Then I broke down like a tramp, and sucked a random dude's cock on a goddamned public beach on a Caribbean island. And then the guy turns out to live a half hour from my apartment?

A great guy.

I could not have screwed up this once in a lifetime opportunity harder if I had meant to.

All I had to have done is keep my mouth closed and and my tits covered, and I'd have eventually figured out that he lived in Texas, right? But now, to him I had become this crazy beach slut. A vacation fling.

You can see why I didn't get any sleep. Between berating myself, and then reliving the best oral sex of my goddamned life, I got no rest.

Kimmie, who had no agenda such as mine, got back the cabin at four in the morning. I greeted her and she apologized profusely for waking me. I tried to tell her that I was already awake, but she was intent on a toothbrush and a pillow.

My buddies had plans for the morning of our last day ashore, this time in Curaçao, and I joined them, hungover as they all were. We shopped the island hard, buying nothing of any value, except for Sophia, who bought several bottles of very high end booze. There were other souvenirs bought, but I wasn't paying attention. My friends were having a great time, trying to milk every last moment of fun from our vacation, and I did my best to support them. At least they could be happy. My life had been presented with a chance, and I'd slutted it away.

To distract myself from my own stupidity, after our morning shot (Kamikazes again), I decided to interrogate Kimmie about her own obvious adventure the night before. Unlike me, she knew how to be free. If you are going to slut it up, stay out until four, don't hide in your room.

"I got back to the ship early and eventually went to trivia again," Kimmie told me, "which you all missed yesterday. So I joined another group of players and, um, met Angus, who has the cutest Scottish accent. I can't understand half of what he says, and I don't care."

Sophia was listening too. "I got a look at this Angus guy last night. She's leaving out the wild shock of jet black hair, the crazy-elaborate beard, and the body that would be a little large for a Cowboys tight end."

"He's got a tight end, all right," Kimmie sniggered. "And he's getting a second round this evening," the bitch added smugly.

"Oooh! Two nights in a row," Sophia chimed in, teasingly. "Monogamy suddenly your thing, Kimmers?"

"And just who did you have dinner with last night, Sophia?" Kimmie shot back at her, but looking at me. Kimmie clearly already knew the answer. Sophia's blush in response actually sparked my interest a little. I added my stare to Kimmie's.

"Ah... Etienne and his wife," Sophia said quietly.

Oh ho! I needed a distraction. And I had some mind-focusingly serious questions to distract myself with suddenly. "And after dinner, Sophia?" I asked smoothly. "Did you?"

Her blush got deeper. "Yeah..."

"Knew it!" crowed Kimmie. "So how is Etienne in bed?"

Sophia looked at us. We only sometimes grilled each other for details that weren't freely offered, but there would be grilling today. Hr situation was just too out there.

"Good," she said quietly, but matter of factly. "Insatiable, maybe."

"Nice," Kimmie grinned.

"Yes, yes," I added impatiently. I leaned close, "What we really want to know is... How is his wife?"

Bingo! On target. Her face was crimson now.

"No!" Kimmie gasped. "I was betting that she might let her hubby have a little taste of American girl. Did she stick around to watch?" Sophia just looked at her, like an unexploded bomb. Her mouth opened and closed as we walked down the street.

Remembering what I had been observing the prior nights, I observed, "I don't think that woman is the sort to be content as a spectator."

Sophia stopped and buried her face in her hands. "I couldn't believe myself," she whispered through her fingers. She looked up at all of us, with a slightly wild-eyed grin. "We were in bed for hours. I told you he was insatiable. She is too."

Kimmie was in awe. "Ohmigod. No way! You had some kind of sapphic awakening, girlfriend?"

Sophia looked at her interrogator. "I... I mean, I don't think so? Like, I am not going to start dating girls. But..." she trailed off. She clearly had a whole lot of possibly scary emotions to process, but shame and regret were not among them.

We all giggled as we entered another shop, one that had all sorts of hats in the window. Adrian had bought this amazing, life-sized UFO of a wide-brimmed hat back in Barbados, and Sophia had been jealous of it for days. She tried on every hat in the store and was satisfied with none of them. As we, mission not accomplished, left the store I realized that Adrian had said not word one since we had gotten on the subject of the prior evening.

"How about you Adrian?" I asked, half curiously. I still just wanted to keep my mind off my own disastrous situation. "What were you up to last night?"

"Yeah," asked Sophia, "you didn't say this morning."

Adrian suddenly looked like a trapped animal. My once again flagging spirits perked back up.

"You've been pretty quiet, haven't you," Kimmie added, her own suspicions flaring. "What are you hiding? Sophia's got you beat no matter what, unless you bagged the Captain, or something."

Adrians eyes widened at that. "I wouldn't say, 'bagged', exactly," she rasped.

*

That tale had me buoyant and distracted through the beginning of lunch and Margaritas at a place that was unreasonably good for a tourist bar. But by the time the entrees arrived my mood had soured again, possibly worse than before. The honestly great food tasted like crap to me. My friends were letting it all hang out the right way, with anonymous dudes they'd never see again. And an anonymous hot Frenchwoman, of course. I had to go crazy and suck the dick of a guy who could have been a worthwhile man over the longer term. Now he knew I was still apparently as big a slut as my buddies, despite my best intentions for this trip.

After we got the check, they wanted to go visit the Cato Caves. I claimed a stomach ache, which wasn't entirely untrue. The girls clearly knew there was something wrong, but they let me take the pass without argument, God bless them. We will all tease each other mercilessly when one of us is embarrassed. And Adrian had already been renamed The Big Game Hunter, a nick that was going to stick for quite a while. But if one of us was down, we knew how to respect boundaries. When we all got home, I'd call a pity party at Duane's Dive and pour it all out over cheap rosé, but for now, I wanted to wallow, and they understood.

As they headed off to the tour site, I shambled back toward the ship.

I needed to find Dale. I didn't even know his cabin number. My mind whirled and I figured my best chances were the Eagle's Nest or the Jazz Club. I would go back and forth between them that evening and hope he would be there.

I could apologize, right? But for what? Sucking his dick? I might try to explain that he could mean more to me than... Fuck, this was going to be a disaster.

I knew this was not going to work, but I needed to find him anyway. It dawned on me that in addition to all the other ways I'd fucked this up, I'd outright ditched him yesterday, after such an amazing episode.

I sucked, didn't I?

It is hard to just sit around and contemplate your own shittiness, so I walked the ship. My feet moving ever onward in an odd attempt at escaping my own stupidity. Just stick with your plans, Daisy. Pull on your big girl pants and apologize when and if you find him. He deserved that, at the least.

Maybe I had learned something, and next time I wouldn't fuck things up.

Ha.

I found myself on the plaza deck, and the Porthole Pub was there to my left. There was trivia there in five minutes. I knew I would not play, but the charming cruise entertainment staff that ran the contests were great. I could use a smile.

I found a small booth off to the edge of the pub, and plopped down. The bartender, who knew me well by now was surprised when I asked for scotch on the rocks, but produced it in short order.

I intended to really hammer my premium drink package for the rest of this awful ride.

The trivia game was 90s action movie tropes. I would have won all by myself, if I had played. Some of the answers people gave were so pathetic, they were hilarious. I just sat in my booth, and drank brown liquor.

"Is this seat taken?"

I looked up and saw Dale, hovering like a terrified bunny, ready to bolt.

I almost leapt on him, restraining myself at the last moment.

"Please," I whispered pathetically.

"Are... you okay?" he asked. The bastard looked ashamed. How could he be feeling remorse? My heart creaked in pain.

"No," I said. And like an asshole, I shut up.

"Daisy, I'm... I'm sorry about how crazy things got yesterday," he said softly. "I... I am so glad I found you. It was all my fault."

I looked at him silently. How could he be falling on his...? the idiot.

I turned and looked into my purse, which I was carrying for the first time since we set foot on the boat. I reached in, grabbed, and threw my drivers' license on the table between me and where Dale had perched tentatively.

He stared at it and picked it up, looking at it.

"I live ten miles from Arlington," I said quietly. His eyes shot up to me in surprise.

"I have been trying for four months to finally find a guy worth hanging on to back home in Texas. I came on this cruise to relax and recharge, and I end up slutting it up. And worse, I slut it up with a great guy who lives near me. I'm so sorry, Dale. I'm not like that..."

"What the fuck?" Dale said, a hint of anger in his voice.

I knew it, he hated me.

"What are you freaking out about?" Dale demanded. "We... we connected. We had a moment I'll never forget. I hope you won't either. I hope we won't want to."

"That's not the point!" I quietly sobbed.

"Look, Daisy," Dale said, keeping his voice low as well. "I... I can see how knowing I live nearby could be scary. But I promise I'll stay away from you if you need me too. You don't have to worry about some crazed stalker. I can... I can let it go, if you need that!" His voice hurt, but he meant it.

Idiot.

"But you don't want to let it go?" I asked quietly.

Dale stared at me, eyes bright with moisture. "No, Daisy. I don't. But I understand..."

"No, you don't," I said, urgently cutting him off. "I don't want to be left alone. I especially don't want to be left alone by you!"

We stared at each other for an eternity, saying nothing.

Dale at last heaved a deep sigh. "I have a bottle of champagne the cruise line put in my cabin that is still chilled and unopened. Can I offer you a glass?"

My heart leapt. I shivered, but replied calmly, "That sounds delicious."

He led me towards the elevators, but I shook my head. "I swore before this cruise that I would not use the elevators the whole trip. That vow, at least, I'm going to keep."

He laughed. "A commitment to keeping those legs looking like that is something I can support. I should have made the same promise myself."

He lead me up the aft stairs, and I was surprised when we reached my deck and he kept going up to the suite deck. We walked down the corridor all the way aft, and he keyed us into his cabin. His suite.

"What the fuck is this?" I said in amazement, before I could intercept my mouth.

His accommodations did not belong in a cruise ship. They belonged in a Vegas Casino, one of the big ones on The Strip.

Dale's room was huge, with interior double doors on the right side side of the room we were entering. There was a fucking no shit, gleaming, grand piano in the middle, which was bolted to the white marble floor. There were mirrors everywhere, and a huge glass wall with sliding doors that led out to an insanely wide balcony that overlooked the stern of the boat. There was a wet bar and a dining table with six fucking chairs in the cavernous space.

"This is how you cruise?" I almost shrieked.

"Uh, no. This is how my parents cruise," Dale said, almost shamefacedly. "They are retired and they cruise several times a year." He paused. "They have points. Lots of points. All the fucking points. The cruise line could not rebook this suite at the last moment, so they put me in here as a goodwill gesture for having to leave my parents behind, even though their plane had gotten into the air already when we cast off."