by Hawke, Jessa
Mici (it read)
And below,
Romania.
“Have you always wanted to be a pianist, Mici from Romania?” she asked.
“No. I hated piano when I was little, but my parents, God bless them, made me practice anyway. You can imagine that now—“here he gestured around him at the middy lights of the lounge, “I am quite glad they did. I came here with a degree from the conservatory, and now I get to see the warmest places in the world.”
“Cold in Romania?” Though the remark may have been the hallmark of small talk everywhere, the way they were looking at each other was the hallmark of unmistakable attraction. He was a largely built man, square in body and heavily muscled in the upper body. He had the looks best associated with the roguish characters in smutty historical romance novels, the kind of brute power about him that made women swoon and try desperately to reform him.
“Yes,” he answered, eyes snagging on her mouth. “But I find it’s always much warmer whenever there’s a beautiful woman around.”
Mackie blushed. She actually blushed. Damn the man. Her naughty working vacation had just been kicked up a notch.
“Why Mici,” she answered, running a hand along the smooth top of the baby Grand, “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” Was this truly coming out of her mouth? Where had she worked up the gumbos?
Mici, however, did not think there was anything that was strange about her words at all. In fact, the smile lurking about the corners of his mouth deepened, and he looked her directly in the eyes. “No,” he told her, the syllable licking her from tip to toe, “Just the ones who appreciate the classical mixed with the badass.”
She had to chuckle at that one, but Mici wasn’t done. “When can I see you again, ballerina girl?”
Mackie did not know what compelled her to suggest the first place her sick, twisted little mind conjured, but apparently, all the filters were off tonight.
“Tomorrow night at nine,” she told him, scooping up her purse and turning around to leave. “The Jacuzzi. We’ll go for a midnight swim.”
Mici’s eyes widened just a touch, just enough to be barely perceptible. “You’ve got it, ballerina,” he said to her retreating back as she waltzed out of the lounge.
* * *
“You’ve been dancing since you were six? That’s insane. I didn’t even get into juggling before I was ten, and that’s only because I was the laziest lay about you ever met in your entire life.”
After dinner, Adam had suggested a stroll around the Lido Deck. She had just finished telling him about the strict discipline of ballet.
“All those rules and you didn’t go insane?”
“If you asked anyone at the American Ballet Company, they’d tell you I’m pretty insane for taking this cruise job.”
“Why’s that?”
“Let’s say I’ll be walking into the company with a… reputation.”
“Oh, I see.” Adam was thoughtful for a moment. The wild wind picked up his sandy hair and mussed it, whipping it against the sides of his face, rumpling it in a most appealing manner. Tomorrow, they would be in the Caribbean, and the winds would be tamer, sultrier. Mackie shivered slightly, and whether it was because of the wind or the promise of tomorrow, she could not tell. Having noticed this, Adam took a step until he was directly at her side, and wrapped an arm around her bare shoulders. One of his fingers brushed against the delicate strapping of her dress, and Mackie smiled.
“What would they say at the company,” Adam said slowly, pressing her to his side, feeling the length of her body against his, turning her just a little so that he could nuzzle the sensitive area between her collarbone and chin, “If they saw you with me right now?”
Mackie shuddered a tiny bit at the feeling of his lips and face against the contours of her neck. “Ohhh, I’d be a bad girl. So very bad.”
“Well, you know what they say.” Adam turned her slowly so that they were facing one another.
Mackie tilted her chin up to him, feeling the flat of his abdomen against her palms where she was touching him. “What’s that?”
“Go hard or go home.” And then he kissed her.
They pressed their bodies against each other, relishing the sensations rushing through them. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, pressing her chest onto his until she tasted his groan against her lips. He was long and beautifully sculpted, just like she had imagined, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his palms into the small of her back, she felt herself being transformed. She was no longer Mackie, with her curvier friends jealously counting their calories and commenting on the thinness of her body. She was Mackenzie, nipples alive against this gorgeous man’s chest, athletic, strong, and downright sexy. She kissed his lips, ran her tongue, long and smooth against his, and traced his fantastic jaw with her mouth. She nudged one leg in between his and was just feeling the stiffness of his erection behind his pants when—
“No.” Adam’s voice was hoarse as he untangled her arms from his neck.
“What? Why not?” she asked, feeling rejection shoot through her like an arrow.
“Well, for one thing, we’re standing in the middle of a cruise ship,” he laughed, trying to draw her closer. “For another, we’ve got the rest of this cruise to enjoy this. Why give away all our secrets in one night?”
And although she let Adam Santino, the best juggler in the world, and a terrific kisser, draw her close to him, Mackenzie found herself wishing that they had taken the plunge through the metaphorical rabbit hole and landed on the other side.
* * *
Hot water bubbled gently against the dark line of her toned abdomen. Mackie stretched her legs out in front of her, watching them float up, the triangle of her thighs shrouded beneath a strip of green fabric. The Jacuzzi swirled frothy waves towards the puckered outlines of her breasts, and the sun was burning a dark orange against the horizon.
The top deck of the cruise ship had emptied out two hours ago. There was nobody around except Mackie, and she was awaiting Mici with ever-increasing impatience.
At last, his broad form appeared by the Jacuzzi’s edge. He slipped the white button down he was wearing over his head, revealing a chest smattered with the dark speckle of hair. Mackie drew in a breath. He was solidly built everywhere, and there was something about his body that brought her back to the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, where Jane Russell has her pick of all the 60s athletic male hunks of the time. A throwback to another era, and with a rebellious scar on the left side of his stomach.
They relaxed together for a few minutes in the tub, letting the evening-cooled breeze play along whatever skin was exposed from the water, the contrast in temperatures delicious. Mici swam-walked over to her until their shoulders were just touching.
“Where did you get this scar?” Mackie asked, reaching in the water to run her hand along it.
Mici followed her fingers with his eyes briefly, and then said, “I fell off my motorcycle when I was seventeen.”
Mackie winced. “Ouch.”
He shook his head ruefully. “My father, he was always such a careful man. Scared of his own shadow. He was always telling me, ‘Mici, don’t do this, don’t do that.’ And I always laughed. And then one day—BAM. I’m on the side of the railroad tracks, a spoke through my belly.”
“Holy cow.” Her palm stilled against the scar.
“Yes. But I was, then, and still now, my own man. I couldn’t be any other way if I even dared to dream it.”
Mackie watched his face, the profile sharp and jarring against the orange burst of the dying sun. He looked like he was on an island of his own, somewhere out where Minotaurs still managed to roam the Earth. Abruptly, he turned to look at her, and she melted into his eyes, burning dark against whatever light was left.
“What else do men do?” she asked, scarcely knowing what she was saying.
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he fiercely ground his mouth against hers
, and then softened. He gathered her up in his arms, weightless in the water, and she was on his groin, suddenly, wrapped in warm flesh and submitting her tongue and mouth to his onslaught, fever zipping through her like wildfire.
“Mackie?”
A familiar voice cut through her daze. When she broke away from Mici, she found Adam standing by the side of the hot tub. For a moment, she was horrified, but a glance at Adam’s face told her that he was not upset.
“Well, you’re quite the naughty girl, after all, aren’t you?” the juggler asked, face breaking out into a smile.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Before her eyes, Adam was stripping off his black T-shirt to reveal a smooth, sculpted chest that trailed down to a stomach that would not have been out of place on a Hollywood hunk. “This is not mine and Mici’s first cruise together.” And, pants following suit, he got into the tub with them, slapping the pianist a high five.
Mackie was momentarily dumbfounded. Mici and Adam knew each other? What’s more, they were friends? And then Adam had swum up behind her, and she was sandwiched between the two men. As both of them began to stroke her body, Mackie, the prim and proper ballerina, suddenly found that she didn’t care about those details very much at all.
In fact, she thought all she cared for was, quite possibly, Adam’s hands massaging her shoulders. Mici’s lips on her neck. Adam was kneading her flesh for all it was worth, unkinking every single kink in every single muscle, until she was loose and lolling against his chest. She felt the press of his penis, getting harder with every passing minute, against the crack between her buttocks, and she decided, consciously and unconsciously, that that was exactly where it belonged.
Mackie wished she knew, or cared, who it was out of the two men who untied her bikini top. She wished she cared who it was who was sliding their hands up from the heated water to smooth them over the dark brown nipples standing like miniscule versions of children’s sucker candies off her chest. She felt warm fingers grasp them, shielding them from the chill of the night air, and gasped aloud at the sensation. Without thinking, she moved her hips, pleased to find that Mici was growing ready for her between her thighs.
She could not say when it happened, or how, but suddenly, her bare chest and back were sandwiched snugly between Adam and Mici, and the two men’s tongues were lapping at each other, sucking on each other’s mouths for all they were worth. Well. That was an interesting development, but one that Mackie found she didn’t mind. When they broke away, Mici rotated her slowly in the water, and Adam dived briefly under; Mackie found herself soon divested of her bikini bottoms, naked in the water.
What a strange feeling, and how free, to be skin to water. How luxurious to have hands sliding down your bottom, parting you, splaying you open to ravaging eyes and fingers. To be probed, deeply and wetly, and shamelessly, to be kissed everywhere, to be turned and stroked and petted to the point of panting, to the point where the only words that hang on the air are, “Now. Now, now, now.”
Mackie felt Adam slide in first, split the clean pink of her with the head of his cock and push in deeper. She should have known Mici would take the back door, but in seconds, she found that logic was failing her utterly. The two men were taking her at the same time—when one drew back, the other entered, and she was sure they could feel each other pressed so intimately inside of her body. A fullness filled her, and she was being stretched in ways that she could have never imagined before. Adam was sliding against a particularly sensitive spot inside of her, and things were very compact down there, tension building inside of her, gathering until her moans clung to the naked skin of the men around her, until her vision was narrowed down to the chiaroscuro of their limbs, until her mind’s eye could only see two pink and purple-tipped cocks inside of her, the entire area between her legs and up her belly to her nipples alive with the kind of building that precedes only the most luxurious of releases.
Mackie came first, the delight of being so wantonly displayed, of fucking in a public place on a forbidden mission mingling with the pleasure of being penetrated twice. Her nipples reached for the sky and positively throbbed as her groan climbed the night sky, long, and loud, and as satisfying as the ripples of orgasm that shot through her. So far gone was she that it took her a full minute to realize that she had floated away from them. And that Mici was now turning Adam around. And entering him from behind.
Adam’s face contorted in what looked like pain, but could have only been enjoyment. Because he had grasped himself by the shaft and was working himself up and down as Mici placed a hand on his shoulder and hip and speared him repeatedly. Mackie watched, almost lazily, as the two beautiful men engaged in what could only be described as the most absolutely correct joining she had ever seen.
And when they came, Mici’s carved face wrenching in pleasure with a sharp outcry, and Adam shuddering his release, Mackie felt a sense of wonder and peace settle over her.
It was going to be quite the adventure.
THE END
Unspoken Desires
Jen was excited for the ten year reunion of her high school class. Whenever she heard other people talk about hating high school she always wondered why; Jen had had the time of her life during high school. She'd managed somehow to get all As on her report cards and to her parents that was all that mattered. So instead of trying to keep her on a tight leash her parents were all right with Jen staying out late, drinking, and partying. It wasn't like with how she heard it was with her peers. She'd hear stories about how other parents were really strict and didn't let their kids do anything without trying to keep an eye on them, even when the kids weren't doing anything that needed to be kept track of.
Along with all the memories, or blurred memories of nights barely remembered, there were two figures that had kept a constant in her high school experience—Ben and Blake. Both of the boys were alike in many ways, but completely different in others. Physically they were near opposites, Ben having blonde hair and blue eyes with a stocky figure and Blake having thick, curly black hair that sometimes hung down in front of his face with a slim figure. Ben was an outgoing sporty guy who played on the football team and was voted prom king while Blake was considered the school poet, brooding and distant, often in trouble. Jen had been different from both of them by being a nerd who didn't fit in with the cheer leader or their hang arounds. But somehow the three of them had formed a tightly knit group, hanging out after school when their schedules allowed, and sometimes going to parties together.
The school hadn't caught on at first that the three of them were going to form a trio that would only be separated by their interests. They didn't always hang out together, in fact it was a rarity because of how busy they were with after school activities and keeping up with their studies. But when they were together as a group Jen had so much fun. All of her favorite moments of high school involved the three of them doing something fun or just hanging out and watching movies together. Jen thought they were lucky to have the kind of chemistry between the three of them that allowed for a kind of synergy to be built up during the school hours that needed released when they were free to do whatever they wanted and be as loud as they pleased. She'd been lucky to have friends like that, able to help her have fun and adjust to the upcoming rigors of college and work and a love life that she would only barely be able to understand, much less control.
Those times seemed like forever ago now, while at the same time feeling like they had just been yesterday. As Jen tried to think back on those memories they seemed to slip away like sand between her fingers—the more she tried to hold onto them and bring them forward in her mind the more she lost of them. But now, with the reunion coming up, she was going to be able to bring those memories fresh to the front of her mind with the help of Ben and Blake. She was excited to see them after decade of them building their own lives and character.
Neither of them had slacked off when it came to making something of themselves. Ben had become a high level
manager at a mortgage company very involved in philanthropy, and Blake was a now teaching poetry at a prestigious college. Both had gone onto college after high school, and Blake had even gone further to get his masters so he could teach. It would be interesting to see what they thought of her now. Her red hair was as red as ever, her breasts weren't as perky as they used to be, not that either boy had ever brought them up in the past. Not that she hadn't wanted them to.
Jen had had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she had a crush on both of the boys during high school. It put her in a hard spot because she didn't want to bring up her feelings to either of the boys and be shot down because she didn't know if she could handle the rejection. She also didn't know if such a traumatic event would tear the trio apart or not. It wasn't that they hadn't gone through hard times together as well as good ones, it was just that she didn't want to fool herself into thinking that sort of thing couldn't really fuck everything up between all of them. If she told Ben or Blake about her feelings and they took it badly it could mean ending the friendship between the two boys as well. Or that's what it could have meant. Sometimes when she thought about it it was still like something that was just about to happen, something right around the corner looming large, waiting to hammer her if she didn't do the right thing.
Jen wondered if the ten year high school reunion would be the time and place to tell both of them about the feelings she'd had so long ago. She knew that chances were both of them would rather not dig up old feelings from so long ago, because even though they were things that happened in high school that was still a four year period of their lives where they were growing and exploring the world and themselves. And it wasn't like the two boys hadn't had girl friends and flings during their high school tenure. Both of them had had several very serious girlfriends and many not so serious girl friends. But she had never been anything but a friend to them, and them to her. Looking back it was sweet the way the three of them had been able to keep things so innocent—it was probably what was making thinking about it now seem like such a trip down memory lane instead of a journey back into a past filled with uncertainty, doubt, and pain with a brief flaring of love and pleasure.