“THE LADY OF LIGHT PONDERS HIS OFFERING,” the narrator explained over the swooshing, cosmic mood music. I stood there, panting and humiliated, yet also terrified of what might come next.
“HAS HE EARNED THE PRIZE... OR WILL HE BE REBUFFED?”
Suddenly Tina spun in a long series of cartwheels. The blue strobe and her glittering bodysuit gave her graceful movements an entrancing, shimmering quality as she whirled across the stage like a shooting star. She stopped directly before me and, with barely a pause, grabbed me bodily. With an amazing display of her supple yet powerful physique, Tina forcefully dipped me and planted a deep, long kiss right on the lips. The music swelled in celebration as I lay back, completely at her mercy. My vision swam and the crowd applauded, but I swear I heard an annoyed plunk from a bass guitar.
I was then wrenched back up to my feet, stunned and dizzy. Tina twirled about me, trailing a finger across my chest, and whispered in my ear before she spun off into the dark once more. I blinked and stood there like a deer in headlights, when the stage lights rose and the singers, Carrie and Carlo, escorted me back to my seat with shaky legs.
“What did she say to you?” Bill asked when I got back.
Numbed from the entire experience, I stammered, “She said ‘I won.’”
5
After the show, Bill and I went to the crew bar to meet Tina, Carrie, and any other pretties who wanted to share a laugh at my expense. I was a good sport. As a conciliatory gesture, Tina bought me a drink. Then another, and another, and before we knew it the lights came on, signaling the close of the crew bar. At a quarter to three in the morning, we decided to raid the crew mess.
I followed the stream of sweaty, slender dancers through the corridors, wondering if I would be able to find anything to eat other than bread and ketchup. Tina tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I need to get something from my cabin. Come with me real quick?”
“Sure,” I replied, following her down a narrow side corridor. Being the dance captain provided Tina with her own cabin, small as it was. I sat at a makeup table bristling with bottles and containers and tubes and brushes and lipsticks and glitter and all-around secret babe-stuff.
“Good God,” I commented, picking up a new tube filled with an arcane recipe for controlling men. “Did you have to go to school to learn how to use all these?”
She snatched the tube out of my hand with mock severity, but I was already exploring the other mysterious potions and alchemical concoctions on the table.
“Body Butter?” I asked. “What’s Body Butter? If anything here involves bacon, I’m yours forever.”
Tina gave me a sour look and using a red-tipped fingernail, pointed for me to return the item. I complied with a shrug, which was a mistake. The alcohol was getting to me and I accidentally knocked over a box of Q-tips. The little swabs shot out of the box to rain down everywhere, scattering over her bunk, floor, and into every fold of every article in her laundry basket.
“Brian!” she criticized sharply.
I mumbled an apology and dropped down to pick up my mess from her laundry basket. Laughing, we dug through her clothing, gathering up Q-tips by the dozen. I was about to comment on a particularly seductive pair of panties, when it happened. We kissed. The moment was too perfect to pass up.
We rolled across the floor, kissing and panting and grabbing. It was not passion, but aggression. Our kisses were lip-crushing violent, and our bodies pressed into each other and smashed into furniture. Tina was a powerful woman and she fought savagely for dominance. It was hot and primal, and I battled with a head dizzy from the scent of her sweat and the taste of her salt—not to mention all the booze. I don’t even remember what I was doing, but could only focus on her fingernails tearing my flesh and ripping my clothing.
Yet suddenly I was overcome by a moment of calm, serene clarity. The ferocity and immediacy of our sexuality faded, and I realized what I was doing. I pulled back from her, dodging clutching hands but unable to unlock myself from between her powerful dancer’s thighs.
“What’s wrong?” Tina panted.
“I can’t do this,” I answered, pulling away. “It was a mistake.”
“Are you kidding me?” she snarled.
“I have a girlfriend,” I explained. “I should never have gotten going. I’m sorry.”
Tina regarded me skeptically for a long moment. Our hearts thumped in our chests, but slowly eased back to sanity. Finally she said, “I see.”
We rose shakily to our feet and silently re-buttoned buttons and re-zipped zippers. Numerous parts of my anatomy burned from her scratching, particularly below my navel and the nape of my neck. Blood actually trickled from lacerations crisscrossing my shoulders and neck.
“Let’s get to the crew mess, then,” Tina said simply.
Our friends had long since retired, leaving Tina and I to scrounge alone. We cobbled together some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sat tiredly across from each other. Our actions had been so fierce that we could not have been more exhausted even had we fully consummated the act. More than just moving like zombies, our skin had a death-like pallor from the light bouncing off the empty white tables. Our love-wounds glowed red.
My mind raged. Why had I begun? Why had I stopped? Would I carry guilt from this?
Strangely, what began to dominate my mind was a shoe commercial. I kept seeing a solitary man running an empty stretch of road, oblivious to the storm that raged around him. Go Nike, Brian: just do it. How on Earth was it even possible to stop so close to having sex with Tina? But I had merely been going through the motions. If I had been younger, or less experienced, I surely would have gone all the way. But after the passion and chemicals of Bianca, simply nothing else was worth the effort. I categorically did not want Tina. I wanted Bianca.
I don’t know if Tina won, but I knew I lost. We chewed in silence.
Chapter 16. Fire Walk With Me
1
The next night I reluctantly sat at our table in the crew bar. I had to deal with the Tina situation sooner or later, and had chosen the former. Carrie was the first to arrive, and was quietly sipping a beer. She gave me a huge grin.
“Tina’s very angry with you,” she said.
“You think?”
“Did you really not go all the way last night?”
“It was a mistake,” I replied. “I have a girlfriend, you know.”
“Several, it seems.”
I was getting used to my protestations being dismissed out of hand. Yet, barring last night’s near miss, all I had done was flirted with a few women. People could bitch and moan all they wanted, but I simply refused to believe that public flirtation equals penetration.
Tina arrived with Joshua Tree in tow. Wary of the dance captain, I tried to focus on Carrie as if this were just another night and we were all hanging out, but Tina would have none of it. Suddenly I understood how a woman feels when a guy won’t leave her alone. She babbled unceasingly about all sorts of inane things, gossip, and fart jokes. She was trying to lure me into conversation, but was about as intelligent as an ice cube. No wonder she liked me!
But I was here to bury the hatchet, so we shared some beers and kept things light. Actually, Tina was in a grand mood, beaming and bouncing as if she had won the lottery. She kept the pedal to the metal on the fun, and her stories bubbled with enthusiasm. And tricks. I caught her secretly switching my half-empty beers with full bottles. Obviously she was trying to get me drunk. The time flew so pleasantly that I let her. When the ladies left together for the powder room, Josh gave me a satisfied smile.
“Tina is happier than I have ever seen her,” he said approvingly. No doubt he knew nothing of my final, ignominious retreat.
“Josh...” I began, but he cut me off.
“Take care of her and treat her right,” he warned with tremendous gravity. He cracked his massive, scarred, and tattooed knuckles for emphasis.
The ladies returned, with Tina toting a square blue box marked with a ci
rcle cut into multi-colored wedges. I groaned, recognizing it immediately. A world of hurt awaited me.
Tina slammed the box on the table and cried, “Let’s play Trivial Pursuit! They have the Genius Edition!”
I cringed, thinking of the years in my youth spent playing the original Genus Edition.
“What’s the point?” I squeaked faintly.
“To prove you aren’t as smart as you think you are,” she replied brightly.
“Well then,” I boomed with intentional smugness. “Good luck with that!”
Carrie and Josh were game, however, so of course I joined them. This was my favorite game in the world, after all. While Josh set up the pieces, Tina snatched up the box of question cards and randomly selected one.
“A sample question to get our brain juices flowing,” she said, scanning the questions. “Ha! How ‘bout this: What was the name of Sir Isaac Newton’s dog?”
Carrie snorted, and Josh hesitantly warned Tina, “I don’t think this is going to be much fun.”
“How about you, Mr. Brain?” Tina challenged, dripping mockery. “Think you’re so smart now?”
“Diamond,” I answered. This time I tried desperately not to sound smug. All three of them stared at me, open-mouthed.
“Now I know this isn’t going to be much fun,” Josh quietly whined.
“How the hell did you know that?” Carrie marveled.
“I used to play this game with my brother,” I explained. “That was the very first question we read, and we got scared that everything would be that hard. They’re not, so don’t worry. But I will always remember that one.”
Tina frowned and muttered, “Maybe I should have given you shots all night instead of beer.”
The game ready, we began. Tina went first, and Carrie read aloud her question.
“What is in popcorn that makes it pop?”
Tina giggled and blurted, “Sperm!”
I waited, but with no other takers, I answered, “The answer is water.”
Glares ensued, and Tina stuck her tongue out at me. We moved on to Josh’s turn. Tina read out, “Who was Minihaha’s husband?”
Josh cleverly asked, “Mini-hoho?”
I laughed, and Josh beamed at his successful joke. Tina, however, was bent on proving her point. “Mr. Brain?”
I sighed and said, “Hiawatha.”
“Oh, come on!” Tina cried, throwing up her hands. “How could you know that?”
“I grew up in a town called Hiawatha,” I explained.
“See Tina?” Carrie chided. “There’ll be no living with him now.”
Yet the game proved to be a lot of fun for us all, once the three of them teamed up against me. After drinks and laughs, the night drew to a close. Apparently having heard about my encounter with Tina last night, Josh had abandoned his usual, lustful focus on the dancer and focused on the singer. As we left, Josh and Carrie skipped arm-in-arm, playing and joking closely as they had all night. As the two continued ahead, Tina pulled me to a stop before the side hall to her cabin. She trailed a fingertip teasingly across my chest.
“Will you come with me tonight?”
I paused, searching for an appropriate answer to her loaded question. She just grabbed my hand and led me to her cabin. While she fished through her purse for the key, I struggled to dash any shoe commercials from my mind. I resolved through my alcoholic haze to just have a good time and go with the flow. I’d just have to deal with the fallout later.
Tina finally unlocked the door, just as her neighbor happened by. He was a painfully skinny, big-eared British chap from the gift shop. Tina latched onto him with both hands and said, “I need to talk to you.”
Two seconds later she had hauled him bodily into her cabin and slammed the door shut in my face. I blinked at it for a blurry moment, then roared with laughter.
2
A few days later, after a long auction, I was relaxing in the blessedly Bill-free lounge on the Promenade deck when Carrie happened by. It was formal night, so she wore a beautiful, flowing green dress that looked smashing with her flowing, coppery tresses. She invited me to join her in an hour for the late comedy show, being performed by a guest comedian. I freshened up and put on my khaki suit over a black silk shirt. I was looking and feeling good. Why, just a month ago I was sweating and stressing over my career and money, but now life was in every way rich and leisurely. Despite the booty calls, I really was living the good life. Now that’s a phrase I never expected to say!
I was surprised Carrie met me for the show alone, figuring a host of entertainers would join us. We had a grand time, laughing until our sides hurt, and afterwards decided to keep the fun going at the crew bar. Our usual table was overflowing with the dance troupe, and we ‘paced ourselves’ with the drinking. For entertainers, that meant drinking at a fast pace, of course.
Suddenly Carrie’s male singing partner, Carlo, rose to his feet and ripped off his wig with enthusiasm. Though wearing a handsome men’s suit, his face was made up as a woman’s: lipstick, eyeliner and all. His dark skin contrasted strikingly with his favorite Marilyn Monroe wig.
“It is time for the disco!” he cried, to much applause.
I had never been in a cruise ship disco with guests before, and was excited to experience it. I followed the flashy line of glittering dresses and sharp suits towards the Promenade deck, but suddenly everyone piled up like traffic around an accident. There was enough commotion at the front of the line that I could not see what caused it, but I had a good guess.
“You’re going to the disco?” I heard Tina holler over the drunken buzz of our group. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Yeah, come on,” Carrie replied cheerily. “Let’s go!”
“But I didn’t dress up!” Tina cried. “I haven’t done my makeup, nothing! Why do you always do this to me? Why don’t you want me there?”
“You said you needed a nap,” Carrie answered. “So I went to the comedy show. What, you wanted me to leave in the middle to call you?”
“Who’d you go with?”
The line rippled, indicating that Tina was bringing the drama to the back. I was not particularly thrilled about that. Neither was anybody else, for dancers melted away to find their own path to the Promenade. As soon as Tina saw me, she marched right up and waggled a finger under my nose.
“You went with Carrie to the show, didn’t you?”
I leaned back, surprised at the ferocity of her onslaught. I shouldn’t have been surprised, however. The lacerations all over my body from before still ached.
“Why wouldn’t I?,” I replied innocently. “I assumed you’d be there, too.”
“Well I would assume so, too!” she snapped. “Thanks for checking, dear.”
Tina’s words dripped with tremendous venom. I received the full brunt of Tina’s displeasure, and kept waiting for Carrie to step in front of me protectively, in the manner so pleasantly demonstrated by Rebecca de Mornay in Pittsburgh. But it was not meant to be, and there was nothing really more to say. Tina stormed off in a huff, and Carrie and I went to the disco.
The disco was a great time, a whirlwind of pumping music and erotic dancing. I had nothing to do with that last part, of course, but was thoroughly entranced by the dancers cutting loose beneath the disco ball. Male, female, heterosexual, homosexual, transvestite, or otherwise, they were a pulsing mob of gorgeous limbs and torsos working each other over. The guests in the club were in as much awe as I.
Because the disco was smoke free, there were many cigarette breaks at the aft bar of the Promenade. A smoky corner of the Society Bar was taken over and whenever the dancers needed to catch their breath they would ironically come here for a smoke. Entertainers rotated in and out constantly, though usually the musicians lingered because of the many Steiners present.
I smoked a long, leisurely cigar and joined many a conversation before they turned private and a newly formed couple would wander off for a dirty dance in the disco or, more likely, in the cabin. Car
rie spent a lot of time drinking and chatting with me. At first I thought she simply felt obligated to be a good host, or remorse for the drama I was sure to get from Tina. But as time flowed, and the shots, too, we found ourselves specifically enjoying each other’s company.
Eventually the disco closed for the night, and our smoking corner swelled with bodies. To my great amusement Leonora, the spa manager, wedged herself between Carrie and I. Without ceremony she downed my drink and leaned drunkenly into me.
“Hi Brian!” she blurted drunkenly. Then she fell face-first into my lap.
I leaned back and held my arms up, surprised.
But it was Carrie who spoke first. “A little premature for that, don’t you think, Leonora?”
Leonora pulled herself up awkwardly, pawing me roughly in the process, then blearily glanced at Carrie. These women were a study in opposites. Carrie sat regally and composed in her emerald gown, despite having downed more shots of tequila than even Joshua. Leonora, on the other hand, had long-since unlaced her disheveled blouse from sweaty dances with who-knows-who. A long tear in her fishnet stockings traced her thigh.
Leonora guffawed at her own behavior, and stated the obvious. “I’m so drunk!”
“Why of course you are, dear,” I said to her sweetly.
“Not as drunk as last night, though,” she boasted. “Last night I was so drunk that I started kissing Carlo!”
Carrie laughed. “Carlo? With or without his Marilyn Monroe wig?”
“He was in a suit,” Leonora defended with a sway in her seat that nearly dropped her to the floor. “I think.”
“That’s the second gay guy you’ve been macking on this week,” Carrie chided. “But I don’t think you’ll find any luck with Brian, either.”
“Who’s Brian?” she asked, blinking heavily as she looked around.
“Finally my reputation does not precede me,” I deadpanned. But Leonora was a handful and I had to endure several minutes of come-ons and groping before I could excuse myself. By that time, Carrie had disappeared.
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