WBDP - Caribbean Cruise

Chantelle must have been sensing my distress at the continuing fraud and she stood up and pulled me to my feet. "Come with me, Sam, and I'll show you the room I grew up in."

I followed her to her room, now Li-Li's. Most of the things in the room were now hers, the posters, pictures, and the like, but Chantelle told me the bed was previously hers and there were still pictures of her, some with her sisters, one with her Mom, one on the boat with her father and a couple taken at Tae Kwan Do tournaments. I looked around at the things still bearing her imprint, checked carefully outside the room and closed the door.

"I feel so guilty at lying to your father," I whispered. "He's a good man and I feel terrible. If it weren't for how much I care for you, I couldn't do it."

"I know, Sam. I feel the same way."

There was a brief knock on the door and the handle started to turn and Chantelle started kissing me, putting a lip lock on me to throw off whoever was coming in.

"Sorry," Marcelle said. "The band is here. Thought you might like to know."

"Merci, mon frère. We'll be right there."

"Don't let Papa or Maman catch you making love to your boyfriend in here."

"No, of course not. Just a couple kisses in private; nothing more."

He left but didn't pull the door closed behind him. Apparently he wanted to make sure nothing more serious happened.

"Let's go. We'll get no more privacy in here," Chantelle said.

Downstairs, the band was setting up; guitar, drums, organ and bass. The guitarist was a former boyfriend of Chantelle's and she went over to greet him. He pulled her in for a quick kiss, but she placed her hand against his chest and apparently told him of my status. He glanced in my direction and gave a quick scowl. If he only knew he should scowl at Brianna instead of me. After about 45 minutes, they were ready and started playing, a combination of American and French pop music and some island flavored stuff. Chantelle came back and said some of those things were songs her boyfriend had written. They all were talented and did a good job of getting the party started. I grabbed another beer and sat down to listen. We couldn't dance yet as there was a large table and lots of chairs in the middle of what would become the dance floor. After we ate, they would clear everything away and we could really dance. Marcia was still holding on Bill's arm, talking to him and giving him the occasional brief kiss to continue the facade that they were together.

Simone was as good as her word and the food magically began appearing on the table just before 1:00, a mountain of it. Three different kinds of fish, cooked three different ways, a seafood stew, five kinds of vegetables, lamb chops and three desserts. I filled my plate with small portions of everything, and it was fantastic. If I spent any time around here, I'd be fighting weight problems again. That woman could cook. It reminded me of a five star restaurant with down home ambience. I switched from beer to wine because this is a meal you drank with a fine vintage.

"You're a fantastic cook, Simone. This food is amazing," I said. "Thank you for inviting us into your home."

Several others also spoke up about the quality of the food and the hospitality. The band was taking a break and eating too. They ate it up as much as we were. It was a good thing to see, a billionaire entrepreneur; a black fisherman and his family; several musicians; a millionaire sex jewelry maker and dominatrix; a young, middle class couple; a sailing ship captain; several sex slaves, although only a few knew their full status; and me; all sitting around, talking, eating, drinking, laughing. Just like ordinary folks.

I finally pushed away from the table, rubbing my stomach, totally stuffed.

"Henri," I said, "I don't know how all of you are not fat as pigs. That was the best meal I've ever had. If I had another bite, I'd pop."

"We do not eat like this always. Simone likes to go overboard for guests. Plus lots of hard work keeps a man fit, hey, boys?"

"Oui, Papa. We don't sit around on Papa's boats too much. There's no time for relaxing," Marcelle replied.

"That is one of the reasons for the band, right children, to dance some of your Maman's cooking off. So let us dance. Clear the dance floor."

In a twinkling, the table was cleared and moved to another part of the house, the chairs set up around the outside of the room and the band played again, livelier, toe-tapping songs that made your feet move. Henri pulled Simone to the dance floor and flew across the room and the house rang with her laughter. The sons danced, the two older ones with their wives or girlfriends, the younger two with their sisters. Chantelle dragged me out on the dance floor despite my protests that I was no dancer.

"Let your feet and heart feel the rhythm, Sam," she whispered in my ear. "Dancing is like fucking to music. You find the rhythm in the music to make you cum and move with it."

Okay. Put that way, maybe I could dance. I was a terrific fucker, or so I'd been told. She swayed with the beat and put her hands on my hips to move them as she moved, although her swaying was much sexier than mine. Marcia and Bill also got up to dance, as did Grant and Sandy. George and Dina danced as well, though George was as stiff as me on the dance floor, Dina was flowing around as smoothly as the slave dancer she was. The music went from fast to slow to fast again and we moved to the differing beats as one.

The afternoon heat was a heavy presence, even though the house was wide open. First Chantelle and her sisters, then the band, then the rest of the men shed their shirts, and finally all of the women, even Simone, lost their tops and the dancing continued unabated. William danced exquisitely and moved Marcia around the floor in extravagant and dramatic steps and flourishes. Marcia's breasts would crush against him during the slow dances although his hands never wandered. She would kiss him occasionally as they danced, enhancing the illusion they were together. Chantelle was a wonderful dancer as well and I found myself dancing with her easier than expected. Her breasts were soft and lovely and I enjoyed their pressure against me when we slow danced, nor did I mind the kisses she shared.

During a break in the music, George, Dina, Bill, Marcia, Brianna, Monique and I found ourselves cooling off in the garden behind the house. Chantelle was dancing with one of her brothers.

"I wish Evelyn came here," William said. "She might have enjoyed this, despite herself. I've had a wonderful time."

"I hate to say something, Bill, and I know it's hard to hear. It's certainly harder to say; but Evelyn is fucking Jimmy," I said.

"You knew," he said. "I was hoping I was the only one. She could at least be more discrete."

"If you know, why are you putting up with it? She have you over a barrel or something? Don't you have a prenup?" I asked.

"Hell, yes. My lawyers don't let me make a move without checking everything first. I've got a great prenup. Hell, she gets almost nothing for adultery."

"Then why, Bill? Why do you let her do this to you?" Marcia asked.

"You're going to think it's stupid."

"Tell us, man. Maybe we can help somehow," I said.

"I love her. That's it. I still love her. My security team has thoroughly documented her infidelity, but I just can't do anything about it. I keep hoping somehow things will change. That's the reason I came on this trip. I wanted to rekindle the romance between us. Maybe it would stop. Instead of sleeping with me, she's sleeping with someone else."

"What's wrong with her?" Marcia asked. "You're fabulously rich, handsome, famous; Sam said you're a celebrity on Wall Street. What the fuck does she want?"

"I don't know, but if she's not even discrete anymore, I'm probably forced to get a divorce. I can't let myself be a laughingstock. It's bad for business if people think you can't even control your wife."

Marcia hugged his arm and I put a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, I remembered what Brianna had suggested about my first wife and her infidelity.

"Brianna! You don't think that Evelyn wants a Master do you? That she wants to be dominated and this is her way of trying to get Bill to turn her into his slave? Remember, you suggested it could be the reason my first wife was unfaithful."

"Maybe, but how the hell can we know. She may just need counseling."

"Was Evelyn ever this indiscrete before?" I asked Bill. "Did she ever do it so openly that she was caught in the act by several other people?"

"No, never. I knew and I've confronted her about it, but she just laughs it off as her 'little flings' that don't mean anything and what's the big deal."

"But on our ship, she sees living, breathing examples of submissives being made to suck and fuck their Masters. Maybe this put pressure on her to openly cheat so you're finally driven to do something about it," I opined.

"What am I supposed to do? I can't throw her down, rape her, and tell her she's my fucking slave. I'd get arrested."

"Yes, you could. Even if that's what she really wants. She may not realize why she's behaving the way she is and have you arrested because it's the way she's been programmed. I don't know what to tell you, but I'm starting to wonder because I can't think of any rational reason why she would behave that way. Jimmy has no special qualities that make him more desirable as a partner than you, other than youth, and you're not that old," Marcia said.

"You don't have to worry about any of us revealing your secrets, Bill," I said. "If you need more time to decide what you want to do; if there's more you think you can do to rescue your marriage, your secrets are safe with us. You won't have to make a move based upon our knowing."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

He went back in the house and was captured by Chantelle for a dance. The rest of us looked at one another.

"You're the criminal expert of all of us, Marcia. He's right. He can't throw her down and rape her. That's not what this is all about. What would have to happen to allow him to make her his sex slave?"

"Well laws differ all over. In our state, there's a lot of things that go into criminal sexual assault. Whether there's consent involved, whether the parties could give legal consent, like their age, their mental functioning, their level of inebriation or consciousness. Our state laws are still kind of archaic where sex is concerned. Generally almost any sex that isn't 'normal' sex that isn't between husband and wife is illegal. Cohabitation, anal sex, and oral sex are all illegal still, although the state chooses to ignore those statutes because everyone would be in jail."

"Why not repeal the laws then," Brianna asked.

"Because none of the legislators gain anything by it. They don't want to be seen promoting abnormal or perverted sex by repealing an old law that's still on the books. Might look bad for them with at least some of their constituents; and since the laws are ignored anyway, there's no necessity to go on record as promoting perverts and perversion. Which it's not, but some religious groups may think so. Relationships such as yours, Brianna, would have been totally illegal. You weren't allowed to get married until recently and all sex between non-married partners is a misdemeanor no matter the consent, never mind sex between women. Of course, Sam and I engage in oral and anal sex, so we're committing a crime. As long as we don't do it publicly, it can't be prosecuted, because the Supreme Court has long upheld a couple's right to privacy in their own home."

"So what about Bill and Evelyn? What would it take for him not to be charged with a crime if he wanted to make Evelyn his sex slave?" I asked.

"She can't be drunk or on drugs, she can't be mentally incapacitated or mentally ill, she can't be unconscious and she has to grant consent. Preferably on paper properly witnessed, or on tape. If it's just verbal consent, she can always claim later that it was done under coercion or that she didn't give verbal consent. Then, it's your word against hers. Not a good place for someone famous to be. Any kind of publicity could be bad for Bill even if he's not convicted of a crime. That would conform with the laws of most jurisdictions."

"So, essentially, she has to ask to be made into a sex slave."

"Pretty much, yes."

"And given she may not want to be submissive, or is unaware she wants to be submissive, it's unlikely that she will ask?"

"That's pretty much the way I see it," Marcia agreed. "I think it's hopeless. In the long run, I don't see Bill's marriage lasting no matter how much he loves her. They're operating at cross purposes now and no way to fix it I can see."

"So not only is Bill miserable because his wife is sleeping around; the rest of us are miserable because she's acting like a total shit with a fucking stick up her ass," Brianna said.

"I'm sorry about that," George said. "Most of these cruises are a joy to be on. People go on them because they want to cut loose a little. Go naked, play a bit with each other. Every once in while, we get someone like Evelyn who treats everyone like crap for no reason, and they never loosen up."

"Not your fault, George. You're not responsible for her behavior any more than Bill is. It is what it is and we have to deal with it," I said.

We wandered back into the house and since Bill was still dancing with Chantelle, I danced with Marcia.

"How do you like playing the significant other of Bill so far?" I quietly asked.

"He's fun. I like him. He's a great dancer. I enjoy his company and I feel sorry for him due to Evelyn. I know how damaged you were when I found you. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, and especially a nice person like Bill. For a wealthy person, he's generally grounded and down to earth. He's had no problem talking to Henri about his business, or the kids, the band members; he seems genuinely interested in them and their activities and problems."

"He's handsome too, isn't he?" I teased her.

"Yes he is. Very handsome. It's one of the reasons I don't understand Evelyn. It would seem he has everything going for him, yet she wants to fuck around with Jimmy. There's no comparison to me."

"How does he kiss?" I asked.

"Very good kisser. And he smells so good. I don't know what kind of after shave or cologne he uses, but I would love you to try it."

The song ended and Chantelle tapped on Marcia's shoulder asking, "Can I dance with my boyfriend now?"

Marcia said, "If you're done dancing with mine."

They gave each other a quick hug and I was left with Chantelle again. She tipped her face up for a kiss and I gave her a nice friendly one, one befitting a girlfriend. Bill took a seat and Marcia sat in his lap. I could see them talking and Marcia would present her lips for kisses similar to the one I'd given Chantelle.

When the dance was over, Simone came over and interrupted us.

"Can I grab a dance with your boyfriend, Chantelle? I'd like to know him better."

"Oui, Maman." Chantelle looked at me and gave me a non-verbal warning to be careful by glancing at her mother.

We danced and I stepped on her toe and apologized to her. "I'm sorry that I'm not a better dancer, Simone. Your family all dances beautifully."

"It helps if you keep your mind on what you are doing," she said, catching another glance of mine at Marcia and Bill as Marcia kissed him again.

"You're right. I should pay more attention to my partner."

"I think you are paying attention to your partner. You are not paying attention to your dancing."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She is very beautiful, is she not?"

"Chantelle is very lovely. I'm lucky to have her."

"Chantelle is lovely, but that is not who I am referring to. I'm talking about Marcia."

"Marcia is beautiful," I said. "Bill's a lucky guy."

"I do not think Bill is the lucky guy. I think that you are. The question is; what is Marcia to you?"

"I'm not sure what you're referring to," I said.

"You know. Every time you see her kissing him, you grab me a little tighter and move so that you can keep an eye on her. I did not raise eight children with their father gone much of the time without growing eyes in the back of my head and a sixth sense about what went on in their little heads. So what is your relationship with her and how is my daughter involved in all this."

I looked down at her and her piercing gaze and realized I was busted. This woman was no dummy and she'd clearly seen something was amiss.

"She's my wife," I said. "Chantelle didn't want to argue with her father about her lack of a boyfriend. I agreed to act as her boyfriend, while Marcia pretended to be Bill's girlfriend. It was so that she could have a good time and enjoy your company without battling with him. She thought her time with you would be spoiled."

"And you surrendered your lovely wife to the arms of another man so that you could pretend to be with Chantelle?"

"Yes, I did. I trust my wife, but I'm not immune to a few pangs of jealousy when I see them kissing or dancing close."

"How long have you known Chantelle?"

"About a week now. I'm very close to Brianna and Monique now, and through them, to your daughter."

"Why are you close to Brianna?" She asked.

"Brianna is going to have my child," I replied.

"This story is getting more interesting, and perhaps finally, more honest," she said. "Does Marcia know?"

"She encouraged it. She can't have children. When Brianna wanted to have a child, Marcia agreed that I could father it so I could have the child she can't give me."

"Your life is very complicated, Monsieur Sam. How does Chantelle fit into all of this?"

"She's in love with Brianna and Monique. They have a relationship together. She knows her father would not approve and hoped to keep it quiet from him while here so she could enjoy his company. All three of them are looking forward to a child in their household. I'm sorry we tried to fool you."

"Her Papa is very set in his ways. He wants nothing more than to see her married and having grandchildren for him to bounce on his knee."

"And you?" I asked.

"I am perhaps more wise to the ways of the world," she said. "Everyone must find their own path in life. I would not choose this for my daughter; a mother would try to protect all of her children from any and all heartache. The life that she's choosing is harder than I would wish for her, but she's strong and there is no accounting for love. Her father must eventually realize that what he wants is not going to happen and accept our daughter for who she is. It does not need to happen this visit. I will allow your little fraud to continue. I don't think he will notice on his own. He is happy that she has a boyfriend. He can be happy a little longer."

"You're very wise, Simone. Chantelle is lucky to have you as a mother."

"Am I wise? I like to think so, but only time will tell if all the things I do will turn out for the best. I thank you for your friendship with my daughter. It is a good friend that would do what you have done for her."

After the dance ended, Chantelle came back and asked to dance with me again.

Simone took Chantelle in her arms and hugged her, drew back, looked her in the eyes and said, "I love you. Be happy, daughter." She kissed her and hugged her again and went to join her husband.

"What was that all about?" Chantelle asked, dancing close again.

"We were so busted. Your mother knew something was going on. She got it out of me, all of it. I couldn't lie to her."

"I could never lie to her either. Is she going to tell Papa?"

"No. We only have to pretend for him. Your mother won't tell him this visit, but she said he will eventually have to know what you've chosen for yourself, so he can quit dreaming of different things for you. She's a remarkable woman, your mother, very strong, very smart. You would do well to be as much like her as possible."