by Hazel Keys
True, I had been doing my best to get him to fall for me since he came aboard. Catching his eye with shy smiles; listening to his troubles over drinks late at night; pretending to fall overboard so he would save me. Okay, so that last one was a bit extreme, but the way he didn’t hesitate to dive in after me... it felt good to have someone risk their life for me.
He was supposed to be a carefree billionaire playboy, a corporate monster that made needlessly huge amounts of money acquiring ailing companies and breaking them up, with no regard for the people who rely on those jobs, as his father had done to my father. Yet he leaped straight into the ocean to drag me out. This didn’t add up with the way I’d imagined he’d be.
It's not fair, either, I found myself thinking, that he’s so damned good looking. Despite my confusion and surging emotions, the image of him after he’d pulled me out of the water, his thick, wet hair slicked back off his face, his thin, white cotton shirt gone see-through and clinging to his sculptured chest and hard, defined abs. I even felt a tingle in my most intimate parts. Thankfully, a snore from Suzy in the bunk above broke me from my reverie.
You still know what you have to do, I reminded herself. Maybe the kiss was a good thing. If no one saw, which I was almost sure about, and if Seth didn’t report me, I wouldn’t be fired and, almost certainly, I’d have him where I wanted him. I just needed to string him along for the day and then I could drop my bomb on him in the evening. It may end up being a private revenge, but if I could see just one glimmer of remorse, regret, or pain in his eyes over the way he’s lived his life and the people he’s hurt, it would all be worthwhile.
Chapter 9:Seth
I lifted the tantalizingly sheer, gossamer fabric up over her head. Her honey-blonde hair cascaded in curls over her delicate shoulders and down her smooth, slender back. She giggled coyly as I spun her around to face me, her arms crossed playfully over her bare chest and a shining smile of pure delight dancing over her enticing lips. She shyly dropped her slim arms and I marveled at the perfection before me. The glittering sunlight played across her naked form as I reached out and gently caressed her soft, rounded breasts. Her eyes closed, that bright smile still enchanting me. My cock felt fully engorged. She reached down and delicately placed her small hand on it.
“God, you’re so beautiful, Tara,” I heard myself whisper. “I’m dying to be inside you…”
“What did you say, baby?” Mia breathed by my ear. She caressed my cheek with one hand, lying on her side against me. Her other hand was gripping my rock-hard shaft.
“Uh… what was what?” I answered, still groggy.
“You’re dying to be inside who?” she teased me, squeezing the base of my upstanding dick enough to cause a slight pain.
“Uhm, all you, baby, you know that,” I managed to smile at her, gasping lightly as she dug her nails in.
“Well, maybe,” she purred, “it’s time for fantasies to become reality.” I felt her hot nipples brush against my skin, gliding down the side of my body as she slid under the covers. I felt her warm tongue touch the tip of me, then her soft lips envelop the swollen head of my cock. Still half asleep, I closed my eyes as the blissful sensation of her mouth on me flowed up through my body, only my vision of Tara, smiling, naked, and still glowing golden, drifted back into my mind. I suddenly sat bolt upright, throwing the covers off us both.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Sorry, darling,” I stammered, “gotta pee. You know how it is.” I jumped up and rushed to the bathroom, leaving her naked and kneeling in the middle of the huge, round bed. What is wrong with you? I asked myself, Have you not heard of Blue Balls? They can be fatal, you know?
My heart was racing and I was finding it hard to breathe. Mia was the heir to an enormous Japanese corporation, young, intelligent, and constantly voted by Harper’s, GQ, and Vogue as one of the ten most beautiful women on the planet. Yet I was hiding from her in the bathroom because she was sucking me off. How fucked up was that?
Why couldn’t I get Tara out of my head? Why did it feel wrong to be with Mia, when she was almost begging me to fuck her? It was crazy, I hardly knew the girl, yet I’d dived straight into the sea to save her, spent the whole night talking to her, and felt like the luckiest man in the world when she kissed me. She kissed me. I was too taken aback to do much about it at the time. All I remembered was her, suddenly pressing those soft lips against my own, her intoxicating scent filling my senses, the warmth of her skin brushing mine, and me, sitting there like a jerk, thinking all my Christmas wishes had come at once.
Whatever it was, no matter how physically turned on Mia got me, I just didn’t want to be with her. I guess that meant I wanted to be with Tara? Like I felt that letting Mia get me off would be like cheating? Whatever. I needed to think. I was just beginning to wonder how Tara was feeling, she seemed just as thrown off by the kiss as I was, when there was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Darling? Are you okay?” came Mia’s voice.
“Yeah,” I called back, turning on the shower. “I’ll be right out.”
“Well, hurry up. Breakfast is being served.”
I sat on the toilet until I heard her using her hairdryer. I figured there would be less chance of her trying to jump me if she was started on her beauty regimen. With any luck, she’d have quickly got herself off while she thought I was in the shower, so I should be able to get dressed and slip out without too much hassle.
I needed to talk with her. It wasn’t fair to keep Mia hanging on. I’m sure sex with her would be amazing and, for fuck’s sake, I was horny enough. But, whether there was ever going to be anything between Tara and I or not, I couldn’t sleep with Mia and be wishing I was with someone else. The truth was I didn’t want to be with Mia. I wanted to be with Tara. And, regardless of if she felt the same way, I had to be honest about that, no matter what.
Only, it was a bad idea to break up with someone as strong-willed and as used to getting what she wants as Mia, while we were both trapped on a boat in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. I’d have to fend her off until we were put into port.
Chapter 10:Tara
Having been the final steward on duty last night, I was excused the usual early morning rush to get breakfast prepared. Not that there was ever that much urgency on charter mornings. Often guests wouldn’t appear before ten, usually with a hangover, which left the cabin crew plenty of time to clean up from the night before, re-stock the bars, take care of any produce orders that Chef Tristan needed, while he was on standby with eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, and so on, which he would prepare to order.
Although I wasn’t strictly on duty, I was in the galley anyway. I couldn’t relax. I felt like I’d been awake all night, trying to decide if I’d kissed Seth to drag him further into my web, or because I'd wanted to. I guess I must have drifted off eventually, because I awoke and got up to run with Suzy and Troy as usual. But I knew that lying in my bunk right now was just going to give me more time to think, which was something I was really trying to avoid at the moment. So I washed, ironed, and folded all the laundry, as Suzy and Michelle got ready for the guests to appear, and I sat, keeping out of the way, sipping on a delicious fruit smoothie Tristan had made for me. The clock just ticked past nine-fifteen when Michelle descended the galley steps.
“Mick and Antonia are up!” she announced, “Apparently, Mick was awake to see you guys running at dawn.”
“Typical sporty-type,” groaned Tristan. “Horribly disciplined and annoyingly fit. It’s enough to make one physically ill.”
I giggled. Tristan’s posh London accent only served to highlight his overtly homosexual mannerisms, but he was one of the main reasons all the girls felt so happy and cared for when they spent time in the galley. He was our confidant, our critic, and our gay best friend whenever we needed him to be. Even Sofia, the small, quiet second deckhand, spent more time in the galley than the crew lounge. That place was much more of a haven for testosterone and was almost always either popu
lated by deckhands Troy and Mike, Alex the engineer, bosun Sam, or all four of them, shouting, high-fiving, and playing Xbox in their downtime.
“They want egg-white omelets with steamed mushrooms and spinach, plus fruit smoothies. Chef’s choice of ingredients.”
“I get to choose what goes in their smoothies? Oh, joy!” Tristan clapped his hands together in mock delight. “Hmm, is spaghetti a fruit, I wonder…?”
He made me laugh again. “I think we could have guessed they would have ordered that,” I smiled.
“Wow, check out Miss Third Stew over here,” teased Tristan as he dropped some fresh blueberries into his blender. “What makes you think you know so much?”
“Mick is a professional motorcycle racer, Antonia’s a catwalk model,” I pointed out. “They’re both going to avoid fat and refined sugar as much as possible. Plus, they would be up earlier because they are both used to partying all night and still making early starts. It’s the nature of their businesses.”
“Never knew you had such a deductive and analytical mind,” said Michelle, without a hint of cattiness. “Go on, then, who will we see next?”
I thought for a moment. This was an odd skill I’d picked up over the years. It was pretty useless but I liked it when I was right. “Seth, I reckon,” I predicted, “and soon.”
“Your hero boyfriend, you mean,” Tristan tried to torment me, adding some mangos to his mix.
“Oh, will you shut up?” I squealed at him. He wouldn’t let Seth’s courageous actions go so, in Tristan’s mind, we were now some sort of prince charming and damsel in distress.
“Oh, you know you love it! Anyway, go on.”
“Seth will be out soon, by himself. Mia will make an entrance later and it’ll be a proper entrance. She loves to command a room’s attention. Seth will order coffee but nothing to eat until George joins him, which won’t be long after. Guaranteed those two have breakfast at least six days a week together.” I was sounding confident and the other two were more than impressed with my predictions. “George’s girlfriend…”
“Valentina,” reminded Michelle over the noise of Tristan blending up the smoothies.
“Right. We won’t see her after the fight they had last night. She’s too young and spoilt. George will order her banana pancakes but she won’t show up to eat them. He’ll send them to her room but she’ll send them back.”
“So, I still have to make them?” asked Tristan.
“Afraid so,” I nodded.
“Bollocks.”
“At the same time, Seth will have ham, sausage and scrambled eggs, George will have waffles. Both will have orange juice,” I continued.
Tristan shook his head at Suzy, pouring the blended fruit cocktail into two tall glasses. “And what of our hip-hop loving guests? Jay Money Monarch and his two porn-star playmates?”
“Coco and Jessica? We won’t see any of them until lunch is ready.”
Alex strolled into the galley just as Tristan handed Michelle the tray with the glasses on it. “Here you are, darling, tell them their omelets will be up in a trice.”
As Michelle headed back up, Alex leaned in closer to me. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since our light flirtation the night before the charter. “And how have you been?” he whispered to me with a winning smile.
“Apart from falling overboard and being hopelessly embarrassed? Just fine, thanks.” I smiled back. Alex was really nice. He was good-looking, honest, and capable of hilarious moments of self-deprecating humor, but I just couldn’t let myself get involved with anyone right now.
“I heard about that. You know I would have dived right in after you, clothes and all, right?” he said.
“I know you would.” I smiled back. I gave his firm bicep a loving squeeze. I so wanted him to think of me as more of a friend than a romantic possibility.
“Tara,” Alex spoke nervously, “after this charter, do you want to, maybe, go for dinner…”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I could say either "yes" or "no", but neither really did me any favors. "Yes" would be leading him on and "no" would just cause friction that I didn’t have the patience for right now. Luckily, before I could answer, in walked Captain Samson.
“Alex,” he said, “come up to the wheelhouse, please. Tell Sam I need him too. Are you the only steward around at the moment, Tara?”
I nodded. “The others are busy with breakfast.”
“Then you had better come too,” he added, before turning on his heel and marching out. Alex followed him, so I hopped down from the counter to follow Alex, only for Tristan to call me back.
“Wait, darling,” he whispered to me. “What was all that hush-hush with Alex?”
“None of your business, Luv,” I said, trying to mimic his British accent.
“But, did he finally say those three little words to you?” hissed Tristan.
“Which three little words?” I grinned.
“Me want sucky…?”
*****
In his dimly lit, yet elegantly presented wooden-paneled wheelhouse, Captain Samson stared out of his wide forward windows at the horizon. Alex and Sam were there, as was Mr. Harper, the first mate. I didn’t get into this room very often. Stewards and deckhands had no business up here unless we were invited. And we were only invited to be praised for an exceptional job, or fired for misconduct. The captain smiled a welcome to me and motioned for me to sit on the chair next to Alex. I felt nervous, a knot forming in my stomach.
Since I joined this crew, two months ago, abandoning my position as chief stew on a Mediterranean yacht and flying down here, lying about my years of experience so I wouldn’t be overqualified for the third steward position that was available on Venus, I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is the jig finally up? I wondered, have I been found out and am about to be fired? If I was, I was pretty sure Alex and especially Sam wouldn’t need to be in the room. I allowed myself to breathe a small sigh of relief at that thought.
I quickly decided I may have reacted too soon, because I then noticed a looming darkness in the distance, off the port bow. I could see that the normally clear blue skies of the Caribbean were being smothered by black, foreboding clouds that hadn’t been there at dawn.
“It’s bad news, I’m afraid,” frowned Samson, his English accent making every word seem slightly more ominous than it needed to be, “a storm, of which we had no idea was headed this way, switched its trajectory in from the Atlantic and is now aimed right at us. Whatever we decide to do, Tara, the guests are going to be having an indoor day today, and it might even be a rough ride. Can you brief the other stewards?”
I nodded to him.
“Aruba is sixty miles southeast of us, through the storm, Cap’n,” said Alex, looking at the satellite map on the monitor.
“He’s right,” agreed Harper. “We’ll never make it if we try to head home.”
“And even if we did make it to port and try to ride it out,” pointed out Sam, “that’s exactly where the weather will be at its worst.”
“So, we don’t head back to port,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. The assembled men turned toward me.
“Go on,” said Samson.
“There’s an atoll, five miles west, it has a bay facing away from the storm. It’ll give us some shelter,” I told him, pointing it out on the map.
“She’s right,” smiled Samson. “We might get some thunder, lightning, and rain, but we’ll be out of the worst of the wind and waves. Good thinking, Tara.”
“How did you know about the island?” asked Alex.
“We passed it two charters ago. I thought it was pretty.” I giggled. He didn’t need to know that you pick up certain things after seven years as cabin crew.
“Well, it falls to me to deliver the bad news to the primary charter. Let the rest of the crew know what to expect, will you,” instructed the captain. “Everyone else, to your stations. I think we have about two hours.”
I headed b
ack below to give Michelle and Suzy our orders, and together we started trying to work out how we were going to keep nine wealthy clients, none of them used to being told they can’t do anything, entertained while we all waited out a hurricane.
“Toga party!” suggested Suzy. That was pretty much her go-to plan for any eventuality but, for once, Michelle and I thought it might not be the worst idea for this group. “Seriously?” Suzy looked stunned that we’d listened to her. “I was joking! You realize a toga party with this group is likely to turn into an orgy, based on yesterday’s sundeck action.”
“That’s their business,” said Michelle in her usual "seen-it-all-before" fashion. “The deckhands will be nearby in case things get out of hand. Together I’m sure they could even handle Jay Money if we needed them to.”
“I was more worried about Tara, TBH,” Suzy smirked. “How do we know she’s going to be able to control herself once her hero starts dancing around naked? Just remember, sexy, all it takes is one quick face-ride to earn you your ticket home!”
“Bitch!” I snapped, slapping her playfully on the arm. “Like you wouldn’t bend over for Jay Money if he handed you a diamond necklace!”
“Hey, I may be a slut but I do have standards,” cried Suzy, defensively, “I’d need matching earrings!”
“Okay,” appealed Michelle. “Can we focus, please?” Suzy and I tried to pull ourselves together. “However, Tara, you were wrong about the breakfasts.”
“No way!” I was shocked.
“Yes way,” Michelle continued. “Seth had bacon, not ham.”
Chapter 11:Seth
When the captain came by with his unfortunate announcement, I can’t say I was too annoyed. Most of the ladies were upset, no doubt looking forward to another day of baking in the glorious sunshine, and a couple of the younger ones, the sultry Latino Valentina and Jay’s slim blonde Jessica especially, seemed to be acting like the captain was deliberately being no fun, perhaps creating this bad weather just to upset their plans.