by Melinda Minx
I decide that I want her to realize what she did, and I want her to see how hard she got me, but I don’t want her to know that I know.
I close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping, then I let out an annoying, and overly loud cough.
I keep my eyes closed, and I let my mouth hang slack. The trick to fake sleeping is to let your mouth hang wide open, because no one wants to be seen with drool dripping down their face.
I feel her stir, and just to mess with her, I twitch my dick. It moves against her thigh, and I feel her whole body stiffen.
Her left hand, which is grasping my abs, digs in deeper. I feel her thigh move, like she’s going to move it off my cock, but she presses it a bit tighter against me, and the warmth envelopes me. My cock begs me to let it loose, and to take her right now.
But no. I’ve gotta be more patient. She’s almost ready. She’s almost ready to give in to that burning passion in her heart, I’ve just gotta stoke those flames a little bit longer. Then she’ll be on fire for me.
She stays pressed against me for a long moment, maybe a minute or two, and I hear her breathing turn heavy.
She pulls her leg away, and as it slides against my cock through my thin boxers, it’s almost too much to bear, but I stay quiet and still.
She rolls back away from me, and then I hear her getting off the bed.
I continue to fake that I’m sleeping as she goes into the bathroom. I decide to “accidentally” pull the blankets off me, and I sprawl out across the bed with my mouth still hanging wide open.
I’m still hard as a fucking iceberg—specifically the one that sank the Titanic—and when Rita comes out of the bathroom, I hear her footsteps stop cold.
She can see how hard I am, plain as day. How’s she going to react?
I hear light footsteps, and then the bathroom door slams shut.
I laugh. That’s supposed to wake me up. Then I’m supposed to realize that my dick was almost popping out for her to see, and I’m supposed to feel embarrassed. As if.
I decide to play along anyway. I jump out of bed and pull on a fresh pair of swim trunks. The swim trunks don’t really hide anything. If anything, I need to go rub one out in the bathroom, but I don’t want to waste anything. I feel like Rita is going to be ready for me to take her tonight, and I want to be fully cocked and loaded for her.
I focus on my breathing, counting back from ten. I look out the window into the deep blue sea. The Bahamas are visible on the horizon. We’ll be in port at Nassau soon.
After a minute or so, I look down and notice my cock isn’t noticeable anymore. It’s still a bit stubby, but it’s not popping out at least.
I hear the door open behind me, and I turn around.
“You’re up,” she says.
That’s one way of putting it. I smirk. “Yeah. I’m up.”
I look her over. She’s wearing a new pair of shorts and a slightly skimpier halter top than yesterday. I’m guessing she’s got her bikini on underneath. It’s gonna be a fun day.
The ship docks, and they announce we’ll be in Nassau until after dinner.
Rita and I go down the ramp and head into the gated-off section of beach that is set up exclusively for cruise passengers.
“A bit tame, huh?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I say, “we’re in a brand new country we’ve never seen before, but we’re all walled off from the people who live here.”
“Look at this beach, though,” Rita says. “It’s amazing. The water is so clear.”
“We’ll beach it up for a bit,” I say. “But I want to check out Nassau while I’m here.”
She nods, and we head down to the beach. We stake out a spot on the sand, and I throw off my shirt. I stretch out, flexing my muscles in the sun as I do. I catch Rita looking at me, but she looks away when I notice.
“You wanna take off those clothes?” I ask, looking at her and smiling.
“I don’t want to get sunburned.”
“I got sunscreen,” I say, pulling the bottle out of my bag.
“Oh,” she says, reaching out her hand.
“Lie down,” I say. “And take off your top.”
She obeys, lying flat on her stomach.
I get on my knees next to her on our towel, and I put a thick dollop of sunscreen into my hands. I start to rub it onto her back, slowly and gently. Getting the sunscreen on her is only my secondary goal, I mostly just want to touch her and rub her body down.
I press a bit harder once she’s loosened up some, and I spread the sunscreen all over her back. Her skin feels so good in the sun, and I realize—for once—that a woman’s back completely empty of tattoos actually has a real charm to it. I used to see a back like this as an unused canvas, begging for me to ink it up, but Rita’s back and skin is more like a completed work of art. It would be wrong to defile it.
I pull up the string on her bikini and slather the sunscreen underneath it. I hear her moan lightly as I do.
I bite my lip. I’m glad I’ve drawn things out with her. It’s so much more fun than rushing into something.
“I think you’re good,” I say. “Unless you want me to get your legs, too.”
“Mhmm,” she says.
I’ll take that as a yes. Her shorts are still on, but I start at her ankles and work my way up. I rub her calves, kneading them good as I massage the sunscreen into her skin. When I reach the sensitive skin behind her knees, she trembles a bit, and I squeeze her thigh to calm her down.
I rub the sunscreen into her thighs, and I decide to play it a bit risky and work my hands up beneath her shorts. I stop just short of her ass cheeks, and I feel her tense up.
“You don’t want your ass to get burned,” I say, acting like it’s no big deal.
She forces a laugh.
“Other side?” I ask.
She grabs the bottle out of my hand. “I’ve got it,” she says.
She squirts some into her hands, and she hastily spreads it all over her stomach and chest.
“You gotta rub it in better than that,” I say.
Her face turns red—not from sunburn—and she says, “You don’t have to watch me rub it in, Deacon.”
I grab the bottle out of her hand and squirt some more into my hands, I start to rub the sunscreen onto my chest, arms, and stomach. I reach to my back, and I feel Rita’s hands touch me.
“You can’t reach your whole back,” she says.
She rubs the thick cream against the small of my back, and I smile wide as she kneads and massages. I feel her breasts pressing into my back a little bit, and then she says, “Done.”
We both lay down on the towel together, not quite touching. Occasionally her leg grazes against me, and I touch her arm as I talk to her, not really thinking about it, just letting it happen.
“I’m gonna call Elsie before we head into Nassau,” I say.
“Good idea,” she says. “Calling Elsie, I mean, not going to Nassau.”
I slap her thigh. “You really so worried about it? It’s the Bahamas, not Syria.”
“I just heard some bad things,” she says. “The pamphlets recommended not leaving the resort area unless you’re with a cruise excursion.”
“Boring,” I say.
I use a phone card to call up Anna. It’s Saturday, so Elsie doesn’t have school.
I put it on speaker so Rita can hear, too.
“Dad!” Elsie’s voice crackles on. “Aunt Anna is letting me break all you rules!”
“That’s great,” I say, shaking my head at Rita. “Rita and I are on a beach! We’re looking at the ocean.”
“Sounds like you’re having fun,” she says. “You can stay there as long as you want so I can play with Aunt Anna longer.”
“I’m so glad you miss me, you little gremlin.”
Elsie laughs. “I’m not a gremlin!”
“Say you miss me then.”
“I miss you.”
“Rita, too?” I ask.
“Hey, Elsie,” Rita says, smiling.
“Hi, Rita. I kind of miss you guys. Maybe you can stay an extra day, then I’ll start missing you.”
“We’ll be back as scheduled,” I say. “So enjoy your rebellious rule breaking while you can, gremlin.”
“Why aren’t I ‘sweetie,’ anymore?” Elsie asks.
“Gremlins break rules, sweeties follow them.”
“Oh,” Elsie says. “Well, we’re going to go play a game now. Bye!”
“Bye, love you, sweetie.”
“Love you, too!”
The phone disconnects, and Rita laughs.
“Ungrateful kids,” I say, laying back down and looking up at the sky. “They can’t stand to be away from you, and then—before you even know it—they don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Wait until she’s a teenager,” Rita says.
“I try not to think about it,” I say, grinning.
We rest for a while longer, then I jump up and grab Rita by the hand. “Time to hit the town.”
She scrunches up her face at me.
“Come on,” I say. “It will be an adventure.”
“If you say so.”
The resort staff give us a bit of a hard time about leaving.
“You want to hold us hostage with $20 margaritas?” I ask, elbowing him.
He gives me a nervous look, then says, “The margaritas are only $16, sir.”
“Only $16?” I say, sarcastically. “You hear that, Rita?”
Rita avoids looking at me. I’m making her uncomfortable.
“I tip generously,” I say. “So that $16 margarita costs me twenty bucks. Let us go!”
He steps out of the way and opens the gate to let us through.
We’re immediately assailed by hawkers, all trying to sell us their overpriced trinkets.
“Fun stuff,” Rita says, as we elbow our way through the people, doing our best not to make eye contact and get suckered into buying something.
“We just gotta get further from the resort, then it will be chill.”
After twenty minutes or so, my prediction holds true.
We’re soon surrounded by tall, wooden houses and buildings painted in pastel pinks, tans, and teals.
“You see?” I say. “Wasn’t this worth the trip, Ms. Art History?”
“I studied European art,” she says.
I point to a tall, thin spire. It has little palisades on each corner, and it looks almost like a cathedral. “That thing doesn’t look European to you?”
“It is pretty,” she says.
“A bunch of British fled here after the Revolutionary War,” I say. “And they brought all their...Europeanness here.”
Rita laughs. “Did you read about that to impress me?”
“Nah,” I lie. “I was just curious about the city’s history, so I did some research for my own enrichment.”
“Right,” she says, taking hold of my hand and linking our fingers together. It feels nice.
We walk hand in hand, and I notice a bar that has music playing with a lot of people hanging out outside. “Let’s check out this place.”
I drag Rita in before she can protest. The place looks pretty packed.
I grab a menu and show her that here margaritas are only $3. Her face lights up. I can tell she likes good deals, even though I’m not hard up for money.
We order some drinks and find a seat to sit down, and then I spot Earl out of the corner of my eye. He’s not with Ximena.
He’s sitting in a corner booth with a number of locals. Having tattooed various types of criminals for the past decade, I can immediately tell these dudes are not on the up-and-up.
I see that Earl has a big suitcase, and one of the shady-looking guys—a big thick-muscled dude —opens up the suitcase and peers inside. He nods, then slides a smaller briefcase over to Earl.
Earl goes to open it up, but the muscle-head puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head.
Earl looks as if he’s going to protest for a moment, but then deflates and nods in understanding.
The shady guys all get up at once and start walking out of the bar, but Earl stays seated.
“What are you looking at—?” Rita starts to ask, then she spots Earl.
Before I can stop her, she jumps off her stool and waves, running over to greet him. Damn it.
“Earl!” she says. “Hey! It’s Rita, from last night.”
Earl’s eyes widen, and he clutches his briefcase, sliding it back beside his chair, trying to keep it out of sight.
Earl, you fucking idiot, what are you getting yourself into?
I follow Rita. It’s not like I can pretend I didn’t see him at this point.
“Hey,” he says, his eyes darting side to side. “Deacon...Rita, good to see you.”
“Where’s Ximena?” Rita asks.
“Uh,” he says. “She wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed in our cabin.”
“Shouldn’t you be there taking care of her?” Rita asks.
I nudge Rita gently on the shin.
“I mean,” Rita says, “hopefully she feels better soon.”
“She told me to go out and have fun,” Earl says. “Says we paid for it, no need for us both to miss out.”
I shrug. “Sounds logical to me. Well, we’ll get out of your hair—”
“Are you going back to the ship now?” Rita asks. “It’s almost time, and we don’t want to be late. We can go back together.”
Earl eyes his briefcase, then he looks up at me. I give him a look that tells him I know what’s up. His face twitches, and then he shrugs.
“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s head back together.”
I’m tempted to pull Rita aside and let Earl go ahead on his own. I don’t want to get mixed up in whatever the hell he’s got going on, but the shady dudes are gone, and it looks like Earl is already finished with his business transaction. It appears he’s getting away without suspicion from anyone, so we might as well walk back to the ship with him.
We finish our drinks, pay our tab, and head back out to the street.
“Why’d you bring a suitcase with you?” Rita asks.
I elbow her.
She laughs. “Ah, uh, none of my business, really.”
“You guys might not want to walk with me,” he says, suddenly.
“Huh, why?” Rita asks.
“Look, I’ll be straight with you, Rita—Deacon already knows something is going on. I’ve got a briefcase full of money, and I’m going to have to smuggle it back onto the ship. You probably don’t want to be around me when we go through security boarding the ship.”
“Money?” Rita asks. Then her eyes widen. “Oh, crap! Earl, why did you—?”
“Shh,” he says in a soothing tone, “Just get lost, alright? You two shouldn’t risk ruining your honeymoon on account of me.”
I pat Earl on the shoulder. “Sorry, man, if it was just us dudes, I’d stick with you, but I don’t want Rita getting in trouble or hurt.”
“I get you,” he says. “That’s why I fessed up. You two hang back here a little ways, and I’ll go on ahead. Pretend like you never saw me.”
I nod, and he starts walking ahead of us.
Rita and I hang back.
“You knew?” she asks, shoving at me.
“I was going to stop you from saying hi, but you just jumped right up!”
“You should have told me the second you noticed, Deacon!”
“It’s cool,” I say. “He’s an alright guy. He might be smuggling drugs or whatever, but he made sure we didn’t get tangled up in his mess.”
She sighs. “Speaking of mess…”
She points over my shoulder, and I see three guys blocking Earl’s path. It’s not the same guys from before, but they look just as—if not more—shady than the dudes from the bar.
“Shit,” I hiss.
“Should we call the police?” she asks, voice dripping with worry.
“No,” I say. “Earl would get arrested.”
“He might get killed if we don’t,” Rita says, reaching for her phone.
I snatch it from her. “Trust me, Rita, if he goes to jail here, he’ll be killed in jail.”
“But—”
“They’re going to steal the money from him, and if he’s smart, he’ll give it up and cut his losses.”
“Are you sure…?”
“I’m sure. Watch,” I say, pointing in his direction.
Earl is clutching the suitcase, and the whole street has cleared out around them. The locals know who these three are, and they know to disappear when they show up.
One of the big burly guys steps toward Earl. I hold my breath, hoping he’ll just hand over the suitcase.
Instead, I see him try to run.
Fuck.
One of the guys tackles him, and another rips the briefcase out of his grasp. Two of them run toward a moped, jump on it, and race away with the money.
The other guy stays behind. He’s on top of Earl, and he’s beating the shit out of him.
“Damn it,” I hiss. “Stay here, Rita.”
“Deacon! No!” I hear her shout behind me, but I’m already running.
When I’m ten or so feet away, the guy looks up from punching Earl in the face and spots me. His eyes widen when he realizes I’m coming straight fucking for him.
I slam into him, tucking my shoulders for a head-butt. My head connects clean into his gut, and I scrape him right off Earl.
He gasps for breath, and I stand up above him and kick him hard in the ribs. “Fuck off,” I yell. “Keep the money and fuck off!”
I kick him again, and he tries to roll away from me. I let him put distance between himself, Earl, and me.
When he gets to his feet, he looks at me briefly, and I point and shout, “Go! You got your money! Now get out of here!”
He starts to run off, disappearing into an alley.
I grab Earl by the hand and help him to his feet once he catches his breath.
“I lost everything,” Earl says in dismay. His face is red with traces of blood, but beneath, it’s ghostly white.
“At least you don’t have to smuggle the cash onto the ship now… and you’re still alive.”
I take off my shirt and give it to him, and he uses it to wipe the blood off his face.
Earl hands the shirt back to me, but I back up, not touching it.