by Piper Denna
Vic shrugged and swallowed a bite. “He’s probably used to his entourage, and since they’re not here…I don’t know. Maybe he’s just not good at entertaining himself? So he expected us to keep him company. He probably never considered the possibility we wouldn’t.”
“So, is he, like, a prick? You know, spoiled?”
“A little. He wasn’t demanding about his accommodations–”
“Well, you said he got the other executive suite.” David laughed. “How much could he complain?”
“Yeah. It’s not quite as, uh, luxurious as this one. Britt made sure of that.” And he had. She glanced over at the pool and shrugged. “But anyway. No, it was more like he didn’t want to do anything on his own. God knows if he’ll actually go through with any fantasy sex. But either way, Britt and I are officially sick today. So he won’t get our help.”
“Don’t look too sick, the way you’re tearing into that French toast,” David teased.
“Bite me.” Vic turned red, and shrugged her shoulder toward her ear.
David paused eating long enough to rub his fingers over his forehead. Of course the guy felt bad, though not knowing Vic well enough, he’d have no way of understanding it’d probably revved her motor because she’d made him lose control enough to bite that hard.
“It can’t be an easy life for him,” David said, in a lower voice. “The prince. His family has houses everywhere, but he travels from one to another with that entourage, and none of them is really home. Besides that, everywhere he goes, he gets mobbed by the crowd, and yet…no matter how many people he meets, he never really knows them.”
Vic lifted her head and stopped chewing, gazing at him. Uh-oh. David was about to be analyzed. “A little like you, maybe?”
He shook his head. “That wasn’t what–”
She leaned forward. “Where is your home?”
“I’ve still got the apartment with Daniel in Oklahoma, that we leased when we went to college. There’s a studio in San Antonio, where I train. And a room at Mom and Dad’s house in Boise.”
Vic did her active listening trick and waited.
David finally shook his head. “Probably the apartment with Daniel comes closest. I’d rather go hang with him during my off time than go home. The ’rents still have it in for me, for quitting school.”
“They didn’t want you to swim?”
He threw his hands up. “Oh yeah. They always wanted me to swim. But they wanted me to stay in school, too. There was just no way I could do both–not if I wanted a shot at the Olympics. They were less than pleased when I chose swimming.”
“You can always go back to school later in life, but the swimming career had to happen now, while you’re young.”
“My mother would hate you.” David laughed. For more than one reason, and her perverted husband too. “But that’s exactly what I thought about it. Which is why I put school on the back burner.”
“What was your major?”
“Pre-law.”
Vic laughed. Probably thought it quite funny that she was sleeping with a lawyer and a would-be.
“Although, if I went back now, it’d probably be pre-med, maybe specializing in sports medicine. I can always go into coaching, if I don’t go back to school. But I’m not sure.”
“And your brother? Daniel? Is he still in school?” Vic resumed eating.
“Yep. Pre-med. Gonna be a plastic surgeon in Hollywood, he says.”
“So you two are still close?”
David nodded. “How about you and your sister?”
Ouch. Vic hated talking about her family. Would she answer? For a long time, she ate silently. After a swig of juice, she sat back in her chair. “She meets me once in a while on my way through Salt Lake. But only if she’s sure nobody else in the family will find out.”
“That’s pretty shitty.” Good, David sounded pissed–rightfully so. “Why?”
If Brett had his way, they’d cut Tami off and not send her any more money until she was willing to stand up for Vic. But that wasn’t the way Vic saw it.
“When I fell in love and married Luke, the family disowned me because he wasn’t from the Church. Which to them, means I’ll never get into heaven. But I didn’t care, ya know? I loved him.”
Brett bit the inside of his cheek. He hated hearing Vic talk about Luke. Sure, the bloke was gone, but losing him had almost cost her will to live. That was a load to compete with.
“And then when he died…” She managed to say it without choking up, which was good progress in his opinion. “They sent Tami to me with an offer. I could go back to the family, if I repented. She begged me to go home with her. How could I do that? By repenting, and saying what I’d done was wrong, I’d be negating everything we had together. I couldn’t trash his memory that way. So I stayed in LA alone. And ended up doing something he’d love, but they hate most of all–building Fantasy Mountain.”
“So in a way, she’s risking a lot just by meeting up with you.”
“Exactly.” Vic heaved a great sigh of relief. Fabulous. David got her plight the first time she explained it to him, whereas her husband had been hammering her about it for a year now, and hadn’t been able to get it through his thick skull.
And since Tami was the only one in her family who paid her any respect at all, of course Vic would feel like she owed her something. That part he’d got, dolt that he was.
“Britt, are you ever gonna come and eat, or are you planning to eavesdrop all day?” Vic asked.
Busted. Might as well join them, then. Lord knew he was starved. He brushed the hair from her forehead and grazed her with a quick kiss. “’Morning, love. ’Morning, David. Have you left me anything to eat?”
“Your crepes are under there, along with a pound or so of bacon,” David answered. “Health food, huh? Maybe after we eat, I can kick your ass in the pool again.”
Brett loaded up his plate with bacon. “Right, now we find out the real reason for your abrupt departure early yesterday. Pure unadulterated fear, that I’d challenge you to a rematch.”
David hooked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, grinning. He seemed to be paying a lot of attention to Vic’s feet in the chair next to him.
“Vic, are you cold? Why are you wearing that blasted robe?” Brett asked.
“She reminds me of Pretty Woman in it.” David looked up from her feet to her face. “Smaller lips, of course.”
Ah, the breakfast scene. How he’d like it if she sat on the table near them, as the character in the movie had sat on the table near Gere, giving him those glimpses. “Nothing at all wrong with what she’s got on under the robe, either.” The gown she’d worn to bed was short enough, and bared enough cleavage, to make breakfast a truly pleasurable experience.
“I had to put on the robe when I opened the door to the servers,” Vic replied. “And no, I’m not sitting on the table.” Damnation. “Pervert.”
“I’m gonna hit the shower,” David announced. “Back in a few.” He swiped a slice of bacon from Brett’s plate on the way past. Health food, indeed.
Once David had gone, Vic shifted in her chair to face him, and put her feet in his lap, spreading her knees just enough for him to glimpse what he wanted. Special treatment. He liked it.
“That was an enlightening conversation,” he said.
“Poor guy is so alone.”
“As you were, at nearly the same age.”
“I wasn’t alone, though. At least not while I had Luke.”
“And now you’ll never be alone again.” He put his hand over hers. “I promise it.”
“Hello?” Carmyn called from inside. “Tori? Brett?”
“Shit.” Vic pulled her feet from his lap. “Carmyn. I called her earlier to tell her we were sick…”
“Oh. Here you are.” Carmyn stopped, hands on her hips, looking at the room service cart and the table. “Stomach flu? Isn’t that what you said on the phone?”
“Right, feed the flu, isn’t that wh
at they always say?” he offered.
Carmyn’s eyes narrowed.
“Carmyn, you should go. You’re gonna get sick too, and then you’ll miss your other role-playing fantasy.” Vic shooed with her hands.
“What in hell are you doing here?” he blurted.
“I came over here to check on you two, and see if you needed anything.”
Vic pasted on a weak smile. “We’re good. Thanks. Honestly, we just needed some down time.”
“Uh-huh.” Carmyn eyed the table again, and then turned. “Okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”
“How did she get in?” he whispered after Carmyn had disappeared inside.
“I gave her the code when she needed to borrow a lipstick.”
Christ.
“One more thing?” Carmyn stepped out on the patio again. “Who’s in the shower?”
Vic held her head in her hands. “It’s David.”
Time for some damage control. “We invited him to stay here,” he added.
Carmyn grinned. “How hospitable of you. Why would you do that?” She was certainly enjoying this.
“Plumbing problems,” he said, at the same time Vic claimed, “Nosy neighbors.”
“Wow. Both nosy neighbors and plumbing problems?” Carmyn laughed. “What are the odds? So is he really hairless all over?”
“Carmyn, God! Leave it to you, to automatically assume…” Vic could deny all she wanted, but she was a poor liar. Not to mention a beet-red one.
“Okay, then. You two have fun. You three, I mean. Give my regards to David, and call me when you’re feeling better.”
When the front door had banged shut, Vic met his eyes. “What an annoying woman.”
“Mm. And on that note, shall we see what our mysterious blogger has said about yesterday?”
“I hate reading this first thing every day,” she muttered as he powered up the laptop. “But I’d go buggy wondering what trouble she’d caused if we didn’t.”
He had to agree, even as he read:
Gritty gossip just got royally juicy!
Like a god among men, so is a certain member of British royalty among the FCS crew and passengers. Yes, you read right. His Royal Hotness has graced us with his bedhopping, playboy presence, arriving via private helicopter.
Sir Rafe Wyndham now has some competition for women, both old and young. Incidentally, his performance out by the Lido pool yesterday was the stuff dreams are made of. Just sayin’…
Day 3 in 1 line? Check your sex, before your wreck your sex. Trying to find anyone aboard, passenger or temporary crew, who isn’t missing skin on their junk or ladyparts is like trying to find a car without body damage at a salvage yard. Note–this doesn’t include permanent crew members–temp crew have the Lay-Techs symbol on their name badges, and I have to give Victoria credit. Her professional crew is just that–professional. No deviation for that lot. They are not being paid to have sex, and it seems most of them are not having sex on this cruise. Period. Kinda makes a girl want to lead someone into temptation.
Here’s your “interesting fact” for the day: Aphrodite has an entire galley, stocked with food and utensils, just for fantasy fulfillment. Whether the passenger has a food fetish, or lusts for love in a toque–that’s a chef hat, for the semi-illiterate–this galley is the place to be. And it’s booked solid for the entire cruise.
Now on to the Gritty Gossip: Our Mr. Grant–that’s Victoria’s little mister, for the culturally-retarded and those who’ve been on another planet until today–spent the evening sucking up to the prince. Do we dare take this as a sign he’s ready to go home to Jolly Ole England? Maybe we should deport him there. After all, I’ve spied no less than 2 members of Congress on these decks, and he’s shown them zero respect. I won’t go so far as to use the term “terrorist,” but geez. A foreigner in our midst, who refuses to acknowledge the sovereignty of our own government?
I report, you decide.
G-G-Girl
“Shit.” Vic pushed the laptop away. “I was afraid she’d mention the prince. Using Rafe’s name was bad enough–”
“That bugger went on late night TV the day before we left port and announced he was coming.”
“Still. The name-dropping. She could ruin us.”
It all came back to confidentiality. “The prince could hardly expect once we returned to San Diego, none of the passengers would mention him being here.” Of course he’d known. In his own backward way, the kid was as publicity-hungry as Rafe. Besides, having the world know the prince was aboard could only bring more popularity.
“And God. What is this chick’s problem with you? Who have you pissed off?”
Damned if he knew. “First a philanderer, possibly with herpes, now a terrorist.” Oil off his back, but clearly Vic felt more strongly. “At this rate, I’ll be a serial killer by cruise end.”
“She’s clearly not concerned with reporting truth,” Vic mused. “We have no members of Congress on this cruise.” Government officials in the States knew better–they visited Fantasy Mountain, where anonymity could be guaranteed. “And you know what else? She didn’t report on the cougar dirty dance-off.” Her hands began waving about. “Which means she wasn’t there. We could get security footage, make a list of who all was there–”
“Except we’re closeted in our suite with the flu.” Whoa, Nellie. Time to stop the manhunt. “And Vic.” He took her hands, held them still in his own. “I plan to make you feel much better.”
Chapter 17
“Hmm. Not much happening on the Lido deck this morning,” Victoria mused, remote in hand. Onscreen, one lone couple in the pool, who might or might not be engaged in intercourse. “Still early, though.” The couple was probably a little shy, though a few stragglers had wandered over to the water’s edge for a better view.
“How’s the casino doing?” Britt asked as he scraped up the last fruit from his crepes.
She switched channels, and got a four-way split screen of different angles in the casino. “A little early there too. I hear the money pit has been a big hit, though.” God, talk about dirty sex–she still couldn’t believe how many people wanted to get laid in a pile of money. “And the blackjack dealers are all leaving their shifts happy.”
“I’ll bet,” Britt answered. “Pun intended.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “I think the blokes who work that table where they can’t see who’s giving them head–what do you call it?”
“Glory hole roulette.”
“Yes, those chaps. Brave souls. Although they do seem to get off on the anonymity. I’ve heard reports it’s hard to tell whether a male or female is doing the sucking.” He shook his head and grimaced. “Takes all types though, I suspect.”
All types, indeed. Maybe she should remind him that he’d once told her about the “bit of experimenting” he’d done while in theater group at university. Nah. She’d find a better way to remind him before the cruise was over.
“Kinda gives literal meaning to the term boob tube, doesn’t it?” David had returned, wearing only his swim trunks.
“Whoa. You shaved!”
He grinned. “Looks like those two did too.” He pointed at the TV, where two girls with enormous chests had put it all on sixty-nine, on the roulette table.
“Christ, their knockers are bound to break the table if the pit master doesn’t get them off there,” Britt muttered.
“Yeah.” David didn’t sound too worried about the table. “You think those are real?”
Please. “Probably. Not!” She couldn’t help laughing at him.
David stuck his tongue out at her. Man, he looked good without the facial hair. Cute with it, but gorgeous-hot without.
“So, why?” She rubbed her fingers along her own face. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be discovered?”
He shrugged. “We’ll be in here all day, and by tomorrow I’ll have shadow again. Besides, everybody believes my surfer story so far.”
Which still didn’t answer her question. M
aybe it had itched? No complaints from her, though. Sometimes that stubble got a little rough. Was that why?
He hadn’t looked back at the TV. She gazed into those blue eyes. Was he also thinking all the places he could put that smooth face? Crazy how extended eye contact with him could make her wet. She looked people in the eye every day for interviews, and they didn’t turn her on like David did.
“I suppose you’re ready to have your arse handed to you in the pool again?” Britt placed his palms on the table and stood.
God. Did it bother him for her to stare at David like that? As Britt walked past, she grabbed his arm. “Hey.”
He turned back to her. “Mm?”
She tugged his hand and reached up to him as he bent down, pulled his head toward hers for a long, deep kiss. Damn. Hot. His cock was hard too. She gave him a good grope before ending the kiss.
“Right.” His dimple came out as he saluted, turned on his heel, walked to the pool edge and pretended to fall over dead into the water.
David winked, then did a cannonball into the pool.
* * * *
Victoria woke slouched between the guys on the couch, drowsy and content. What a day. She’d sunbathed while they played whatever they called that game in the pool, then they’d ordered lunch and lounged around outside. When a little rainstorm came up, they’d retreated inside. They both beat her at golf on the video game, but she’d slayed them at hangman. Then came dinner. More food, and champagne. Now they were watching…something on TV. Some guy show about shooting.
No sex, all day long. A little petting and teasing, just enough to keep her very aware.
Mm. Still sleepy, and the guys were really into their show. Going to bed alone sounded sucky and antisocial. She put her head in Britt’s lap, her back to the TV, and curled her feet up to her butt, next to David’s leg. Britt’s hands immediately went to her head, his fingers playing with her hair. He’d be hard as a rock before long.
Oh, David had taken her feet, and they were now in his lap. Nice foot rub. How could that possibly feel sexual? Damn. It must be, though, because she could feel his cock through his shorts, and he was into it. Well, she had caught him staring at her feet a few times. And his fingers did seem to be going in and out between her toes, in a rather phallic fashion…