by Piper Denna
“Maybe.” Serena tilted her head. “Still, you seem to have recovered and found happiness. Yes?”
“Yes. Definitely. It’s just now…every month that goes by, if I don’t conceive, I have to wonder if it’s some sort of punishment. And then I know that doesn’t make sense, but I also know I’ve got to prove to myself and to Britt that I can have a baby. I can be a mother, despite what most of the world thinks of my career. And so I put this pressure on myself. I eat all the right things, and take all the right supplements. Exercise in a healthful, nurturing way…”
Serena rubbed her glossy lips together and waited.
“Nothing. And I know stressing about it is what’s causing the problem. But I can’t seem to stop stressing. I think being so high-strung and stressed is what’s stopping us from conceiving. Which stresses me out even more. So that’s why it’s my fault.”
“And your husband wants me to tell you the stress isn’t the problem?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t do that. While it’s entirely possible there’s a physical problem–”
“There’s not. We’ve both been checked.”
“And I’m pretty sure you’re provided plenty of pregnancy-ops up there at Fantasy Mountain.” Serena fanned herself again. “My God, my poor husband would be in heaven if we lived there, because I’d be horny all the time. But back to the topic. Stress has been known to be a factor in fertility, or the lack thereof.” Great. Not what she’d wanted to hear, although not exactly breaking news, either. “Not that you can blame yourself for being stressed. Has your gynecologist suggested taking a break?”
Victoria nodded. “He did suggest taking a vacation. It’s just not possible right now. Our cruise liner, Fantasies, Inc. Aphrodite, has its maiden voyage the fifth of next month. So we’ve been off-the-charts busy getting everything organized and launched. I’ve been interviewing about twenty people a day, besides setting up the usual fantasies at the mountain, flying back and forth to the ship at port in San Diego to check on progress...”
Serena leaned forward and took Victoria’s hands in her own. “Whoa. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Look, I’m not a fertility specialist. But I do know when my cousin was trying to conceive, her doctor had her go back on The Pill for six months. And then when she went off, bammo! She was knocked up the first month.”
“Oh. Wow.”
Serena nodded. “Something about the hormones putting the cycles all back in sync. Like I said, I’m not an expert. But maybe you should ask your doctor about it.”
Back on The Pill. No pressure to get pregnant… “Thanks. I’ll definitely call right away. Britt was so right about seeing you.”
“If I might make one other suggestion?”
“Mmm?” Her mind was already on that phone call and which pharmacy to get her pills from.
“While you’re on this break, give yourself a hall pass. Do some wild, sexy stuff. Nothing can kill the fun of sex like making it a means to a baby. Besides, one day you’ll be prego, and then a mom. And let me tell ya, that living-in-the-moment business doesn’t happen much for us mommies.”
Wild, sexy stuff. Like what? Britt’s idea of sharing her with another man on the cruise? Now she was probably the one blushing. “Um. Yeah. Even though I arrange all those fantasies, I’m pretty straightlaced.”
“Something tells me there’s a vixen inside you, just waiting to get out. Give her a spin. Trust me, your man will love it.”
* * * *
Gil set the helicopter down and killed the engines. When he turned to look at the back seat, Victoria was already gathering her bags. He’d better hurry and get the door or she’d open it herself. The sun reflected in a blinding shimmer off the snow, and even with his dark glasses, he shielded his eyes as he ran around the side of the chopper to let her out. He swung the door open and gave her a hand out, pulling her just close enough to feel her against him, warm and soft–a little more soft than he’d like, in fact. He pushed his shades up so they could make eye contact.
She gave him a cool smile and cleared her throat. “Thanks, Gil. I think Senator Reynolds and his wife are leaving later this afternoon.” No mistaking her signal when she pulled her hand away from his.
She’d become a pro at hiding her attraction to him, obviously. Ever since she’d hooked up and married that cocksucker lawyer of hers. In fact, the prick was on his way across the helipad toward them now.
“No prob. I’ll get FM 2 fired up. This one’s due for a big inspection. Have a good one.” He watched her ass as she hugged her husband and then walked off. He was a patient man, but he’d waited long enough for her. Time to put the plan into action and remove Brett Grant from the picture for good.
Inside his office, he sent a text message.
Did you have your interview?
A few seconds passed, and then:
Yes. Video call with Victoria earlier.
How did it go?
I’m approved as a crew member on the maiden voyage!
He breathed a sigh of relief. At least something was going right.
Good. You know the deal. If you come through for me, $5k after the cruise. I’ll set up a drop-off for the device so you can share all the deets of the trip with the world.
Right. “Deets,”true and fictional. Good and ugly.
And if you get caught, we never met. This conversation never happened. TTYL with more instructions.
He pocketed his cell, then rubbed his hands together. In a few weeks, he’d have his Victoria back. Using Brett’s trampy ex-fiancee last year to try and break them up hadn’t worked. The blackmail had backfired, and the stupid little slut had gone slinking back to the hole she’d come from. But this time he was smarter, and using a smarter co-operative. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Victoria again, get her to work out like she used to, so she’d have that hard, boyish body again. She remembered what he could do for her. He knew she did.
And once he was back in her bed, then he’d claim his share of her empire, like he so deserved.
Fuck, yeah. Maybe he needed a private moment in the bathroom before that next flight...
Chapter 3
“That’s it, then?” Brett zipped a suitcase shut, while holding the top down with all his weight. “Sure you don’t need another six bags or so, love? After all, it is one bloody huge ocean liner.”
Vic rolled her eyes, phone to her ear. “He’s bitching about my three suitcases.” She nodded her head at the phone, then turned to him. “Carmyn says she’s bringing five.”
“Give Mark my deepest sympathies.” He tugged the great case off the bed and rolled it to the door. Thank Christ it had wheels. Vic was lucky she didn’t have to check the thing on a commercial airline, or they’d be paying out the nose for the extra weight. Mark should be grateful as well, for the chopper ride to the ship. Movie star wife or not, his bank would be broke if he had to pay for the mass of luggage glamorous Carmyn convinced him to cart around.
Vic’s voice carried from the other room. “No problem. As soon as Gil drops us off on the ship, I’ll send him up to LA to get you guys. No sense in you coming earlier than that anyway. We’ll be overseeing the crew meet-n-greet. And getting that reporter settled.”
He re-entered the bedroom, and she reached out to smooth his collar. “Okay. See you then!” She dropped her phone into her purse and licked her lower lip. “Now, let’s see. We’ve got ninety minutes ’til take off. What should we do with the time?”
His cock pulsed when she ran her hands inside his shirt and tweaked his nipples.
“Feeling a bit naughty, Vic?”
“Mm.” She stretched up for an openmouthed, toothpaste-fresh kiss.
His old Vic was back, spunky, horny, and no longer intent on pregnancy. “What’s that old saying? You be six, I’ll be nine?”
“I married a mind reader.”
He’d best not loose her hair this time; she’d play hell wrangling
it back into submission before they left. Damnation.
They were nude on the bed in moments, he flat on his back with his cock like a mast, she atop him with her loveliness spread wide above his face. He inhaled, savoring every sight, every smell. She’d gone for a wax yesterday, and all that remained was a cursory frontal patch of red curls–which he’d insisted she keep. “It’s another Kodak moment, Vic. Hand me my phone, please?”
She handed it over, and while he attempted to take a great photo, she captured his cock with her mouth. Despite being pulled up, the ends of her hair tickled along both his thighs. Ah, that hair. Ah, that mouth. He managed one picture, then cast the phone aside and delved into her folds.
Fuck, she tasted fine. And what was she up to down there? She sucked like there was no tomorrow, deeper than ever, hot and so firmly. If she kept it up, she might make take all of him. Tonsils, throat, an almighty good job she was up to. Her fingers were everywhere, loving his nuts, gripping his shaft. Her nails rasped down and back, and though his mind told his legs to stay together, they spread. She wasn’t up to that again? He moaned against her and shoved his tongue inside her as far as he could. His breath caught when her finger found its target. So smooth, as if she did it every day, she slid inside. He’d told her he didn’t like–ah, but he fucking did. His mouth clamped her clit while other parts clamped her finger, and he came. A feral moan–was it his?–and then she came too, in tight, rolling, dripping spasms against his face. He heard her gulp once, twice, and then she laid her head down, warm fingers still clasping his cock.
He cleared his throat. “Now. If we could only get that on tape…”
“Not a chance, old chap.”
* * * *
Vic snoozed against him most of the flight to the ship, her head on his shoulder. He spent the time watching the American landscape below him–as he’d done plenty of times in the past few months. All the work would be worth it, though. To take Vic away from their tiny apartment on the mountain in Wyoming, sail her around the world to exotic locales, lounge with her in their posh-to-the-ridiculous executive suite onboard…definitely worth it. She’d balked at the luxurious accommodations he’d insisted on for their private suite atop the ship, but he’d won that round. Told her eventually they could rent it out for an insane price on any of the monthly cruises they didn’t attend.
She had no inkling that would not be happening. He fully intended to cruise with her every damn month forever. She needed the week away, and they had Morty to help run Fantasy Mountain, along with her assistant Jeff. Now that the rehab on the cruise liner was complete, it’d be their home away from home. Vic might intend to work herself to death, but he had no intention of letting her do so. They were both richer than God, and could damn well afford to enjoy themselves.
True, they enjoyed themselves nearly everywhere they went. His cock pulsed, remembering what she’d done to him this morning. Christ, she had a way of knowing things. Perhaps that was why she’d been so successful at fulfilling fantasies.
Now he’d return the favor.
* * * *
Brett waited for the chopper blades to slow, then opened the door and stepped out, giving Vic a hand down. In stark contrast to the early-March bluster they’d left behind at the Mountain, a balmy San Diego afternoon greeted them on the helipad atop the Aphrodite.
Vic’s tagline blazed along the ship’s cabin in bold red letters. Fulfillment is on your horizon.
It certainly was.
“We did it, didn’t we?” Vic looked positively euphoric, her beaming smile a mile wide.
He bent down and kissed her while Gil unloaded their luggage. Funny thing about that chap, he sure liked watching them kiss. Wasn’t the first time Brett had caught him staring.
Vic glanced over at Gil. “Oh. Carmyn and Mark should be waiting at LAX when you get there.”
“Sure. I’ve just got to make a quick pit stop.” Gil headed off to a restroom, a satchel in hand.
“What’s he need his manbag for?” Brett muttered.
“Who knows. Probably preflight checklists or something. Let’s go. Crew orientation in ten minutes.”
* * * *
Temporary crew members crowded the Lido deck, dressed in navy twill shorts and fitted white tees. The “real” crew was hard at work making final preparations, or hopefully ticking off items on their preboarding checklists.
“Hell. They’ve already started,” Vic hissed.
They’d spent a few minutes in their suite with some celebratory Dom Perignon. Apparently the personnel manager was punctual.
“So just a few words about who you are, and why you’re here,” Miss Punctual Shawna said. “If you feel comfortable saying it. Let’s start here and work our way in this direction. Captain, would you like to break the ice and get us started?”
Swarthy and big as ever, the captain took a deep bow. “I’m Robert Bekyros, your ship’s captain. I’ve been navigating and running crews for fifteen years. My pop and his pop did it their whole lives before me.” He shrugged and resumed a military-straight pose.
“Still a man of few words,” Vic whispered.
Next, a weathered-looking man with an obvious hat ring in his dark blond hair stepped forward. “Howdy. I’m Jess, a forty-year-old cowboy. I’ve rodeo’d and ranched, and done my share of branding and working horseback.”
Someone in the crowd shouted, “Bareback?” which was met with a wave of chuckles.
“Funny.” Jess tilted his head in the direction of the heckler. “For the record, this uniform is missing some real important things–a hat and boots.” More chuckles. “I’m signed on as a waiter. Guess I’ll be doing some room service.” He raised his brows and grinned. “Anyhow, some of the folks at home asked me why I wanted to come on this cruise. I’ll tell ya. Because it sounds like a damn good time.”
Applause and whistling. Jess obviously knew how to work a crowd.
A younger-looking guy with dark hair spoke next. “I’m Griffin. I’ll be bartending for work here, but at home I’m a fireman and a certified EMT. I’m running from a real shitty breakup with my fiancee. Hope to enjoy some sun and sex aboard this ship.”
An older–though smoking hot–woman was up. “Hi. I’m Laurel. Nobody at home knows I’m on this cruise.” A few murmurs of agreement from the crowd. “But, hell. I figured if my husband of twenty-five years can decide to ditch me for a younger piece of ass, I could hit the gym and hit some young thang too.”
“To cougars!” a female called out. More whistling and laughter.
A very young, busty blonde stepped forward.
“Shit, Vic, is she even twenty-one?” Brett murmured.
“Yes. Just.”
“–student at BYU, majoring in journalism. I’m, um…a cabana girl for the cruise.” She blushed a little, but inhaled and stuck her bust out still more.
“She’ll be seeing some action,” he predicted. “What was her name?”
“Peyton,” Vic answered.
The next person in the circle, a thirtyish Hispanic male, stepped back and waved toward the person after him. “Oh, I’m not crew.”
Vic stepped forward, all stiff professionalism. “Hi, you all know me. Victoria–and this is my husband Brett Grant. And this person trying to avoid introductions is Mick. He’s actually a reporter, who has total access throughout the ship. Mick is a freelance writer, whose articles about this cruise will probably appear in travel magazines, adult publications, and perhaps even some Sunday papers. He’ll be reporting accurately”–she cast him her most winning smile– “though we hope favorably, on every aspect of the cruise. And he wanted me to make it clear that he’s abstaining for the duration of the cruise. Something about losing his objectivity.” Her brows rose, as if to say she didn’t buy it for minute.
Vic’s crowd laughed, and several women eyed Mick, clearly opposed to his celibacy.
“In light of all the anonymity we’ve enforced, by making everyone hand over all cellphones and communication devices, it
might seem odd to have invited a reporter. However, I trust Mick implicitly, and you can be assured none of his writing will be released until approved by my legal department, after the cruise ends. So please, if you see Mick around–and he’ll be posing as just another passenger–go about your business just like you would if you didn’t know his identity. I’ve got to duck out now, but I hope you all enjoy the launch! Bon voyage!”
Amidst resounding applause, he and Vic left the pool area and headed toward the Aloha Deck.
“Victoria!” Mick the reporter rushed up behind them. “I wonder if I might get a quick precruise interview? And I’d like to shoot some photos of your suite. I got a photo record of the rest of the ship before the temp crew arrived, but as you know, your quarters were off limits.”
“Photos of our suite?” Brett didn’t like that idea one bit. “Isn’t that a tad invasive?”
Vic shook her head. “You know if we don’t let him, somebody down the road is going to find a way to get in and take pictures. I doubt anything in there will be of much interest to travelers who can’t access it. How about some shots of the outside deck? The infinity pool and hot tub?”
Mick shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your deal. Can we do the interview there, though? I see the actual crew coming, and they’re supposed to start intensive training on these temps in a few minutes.”
Dear Vic put on her happy face. “Sure. Let’s go. I could use a drink, anyway.”
Inside their suite, thick carpeting and upholstery muted any sounds of the outdoor world. Brett mixed drinks and handed them around, while Mick proceeded to ogle his wife and plead with her to let him write her biography.
“I really don’t think I’m biography material,” Vic protested. “At this point, I try to keep a low profile.” Her gaze met Brett’s, begging for rescue.
“The ship, and shipboard activities,” Brett said firmly. “Our personal life will remain just that–personal. As stated in your contract, you’ll include nothing private in your assessments.”