Shut Up and Kiss Me

by Julie Cannon

  My heart pounded at the sheer beauty of Faith pleasuring herself. Faster and faster she rocked, pinching her nipples hard. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, a light sheen of sweat covering her. She was glorious, all woman, and she took herself over the edge. Just watching Faith climax was a breathtaking sight I would never forget, and, surprisingly, I came with her.

  As she had settled down from her climax, she leaned forward, her hands on either side of my shoulders. Her hair shrouded out the world, and I wanted to stay that way forever. The realization pulled all the air from my lungs, and I’d pushed it aside until now, sitting at a small table in the bustling tourist shopping area.

  What was I supposed to do now? I’d never been in this position. I’d had some medium-term relationships with women, but none that included seeing my future with them. They were professional and interesting, with complete lives of their own. Maybe they didn’t need me that much, and obviously I hadn’t needed them.

  Faith, however, was different. She was the complete opposite of the women in my past, which was more than a little scary. What would I do with her? What did we have in common? I knew very little about her, her irritating quirks or political views. Not that those would be showstoppers, but they were important. The most important challenge was that I was completely in over my head. Way over.

  Maybe my mother was right, God forbid. This couldn’t go anywhere. I live in Phoenix with a company to run. Faith lives on a ship, for God’s sake. This is where her job is. She wouldn’t leave it behind for me, and I wouldn’t ask her to. Good God, we’ve only known each other for not even three weeks.

  I was going home in a few days. Or at least I was planning to. I had a return flight out of Sydney when we returned. Maybe if I stayed a few more days I’d get her out of my system. Or maybe something would come up that changed my mind. Maybe I’d grow tired of her. I had a better chance of getting hit by lightning in this cloudless sky, I realized. I toyed with the idea of not returning to the ship and catching a flight back to the States but then dumped it just as quickly. It would be ghastly expensive, and I didn’t want to have to deal with my mother for the rest of my life.

  I looked for Faith as I boarded. It was after eleven, and, based on her phone conversation, I knew she was working. I looked in the two restaurants on the main deck and the shops in the corridor on my way to the stairs to my parents’ deck. I wasn’t expecting to see her, but a girl could hope.

  My mother and Victoria were sitting in the living room when I closed the door behind me.

  “Lowe?”

  Shit. I’d tried to be quiet so I didn’t face an inquisition, but my luck was consistent, to say the least.

  “Yes?” I didn’t move any farther into the apartment, hoping I could slip into my suite quietly.

  “Would you come here, please? I refuse to yell across the room.” My mother never raised her voice. I entered the large room and braced for the worst.

  “Are you just getting in?”

  I could not believe that, even at thirty-six years old, I could let my mother still make me feel like a guilty teenager sneaking in after curfew.

  “Do you need something?” I asked instead of answering her question. She knew damn good and well I had. I was certain Victoria had gloated over the fact every hour on the hour when I didn’t show for breakfast.

  “I’d like to know where you were last night. We expected you for dinner.” Her tone was harsh, and Victoria wore a self-satisfied smirk.

  I was keyed up and tired and not in the mood for this. “Do you really want to know where I was, Mother?” Two could play at this game. If she wanted to know, she’d get it.

  “Yes, tell us, Lowe.” My sister joined in. “Where were you all night?”

  I ignored her and waited for my mother to answer my question.

  “A little common courtesy is not too much to ask, Lowe. We had no idea where you were and were worried.”

  Nosey was more like it. “I’m sorry, Mother. I should have called. I guess I’m just used to not having to report in. Do you need anything else?”

  My mother stared at me, her eyes boring into me as they had so effectively when I was a child. I was always able to keep my mouth shut, but Victoria, on the other hand, always sang like the proverbial canary, always pointing at me.

  “Is that all you have to say? I should have called?” Victoria asked. Some things never change.

  “To Mother, yes. If you have something else you want to talk about, Victoria, we don’t need to bother Mother with it.”

  I turned and headed down the hall to my suite, knowing Victoria would follow. I didn’t say anything until we were in my room, the door closed.

  “What is it, Victoria?” I was in no mood for her sanctimonious shit.

  “Where were you? Mother was worried. She—”

  “She was not. I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself. You…” I pointed my finger at her. “You seem to be pretty interested in where I was. You keep telling me I need to share more about my life, so if you really want to know, I was making love with a beautiful woman. We spent the afternoon, evening, all night, and this morning together in a hotel. The only time we got out of bed was to get a glass of water or order room service. Anything else you want to know? I don’t kiss and tell, so don’t expect any details.”

  Victoria paled, then grew red. She’d asked for it.

  “Was it that crew member?” she practically snarled.

  “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no.” No way was I going to bring Faith into this.

  “How do you do that? Sleep with someone you just met?”

  “Let me assure you, Victoria, that very little sleep was involved.”

  “That’s disgusting,” she spat, her face mirroring her words.

  “You may think so, but the lady had absolutely no complaints. Now if you don’t mind, I need a shower and a nap, obviously.”

  “You’re nothing more than—”

  “Than what, Victoria? Honest about who I am?” My sister didn’t know what to say, so I ended the conversation. “You can show yourself out.” I calmly shut the bathroom door behind me.

  From the privacy of my bathroom I stripped and took a good look at myself in the mirror. It had been several hours since I was with Faith, but my body still hummed from recent great sex. My skin glowed, my breasts still full from arousal. My nipples were sore, but in a good way. A very good way.

  I let the water cascade over me, its warmth soothing my tired muscles. I washed my hair and slathered shower gel over my arms and legs. When I reached my woman parts, I couldn’t help but remember the feel of Faith’s skillful hands making me come almost in record time earlier this morning.

  I’d let her shower first, but when I imagined her naked, I couldn’t lie in bed alone. The shower doors were clear, giving me an excellent view of her perfect backside. I watched like a voyeur for as long as I could stand it before I knocked on the door.

  Faith yelped. “Shit, you scared me.” She wiped the water off her face and pushed her hair back.

  “May I join you?” God, please say yes, I prayed. My prayers were answered when she opened the door a crack.

  “I have to get to work.”

  “Okay.”

  “No funny business.”

  There was nothing funny about what I wanted to do to her. “I promise, no funny business.” I crossed my heart, and Faith watched, her eyes focused on my breasts. I saw the vein in her neck pulse faster. I knew that sign, and I stepped inside.

  I closed my eyes and brought myself to orgasm, imagining Faith’s fingers on me. I finished my shower, slipped into boxers and a T-shirt, and fell into bed.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  François made my day a living hell. The schedule had me in the gym for my entire shift, but an hour after I relieved Joanne, he moved me to the kitchen, then to a different post every hour. I wouldn’t have minded the variety, but the positions were the busiest ones on the ship. I was exh
austed both physically and mentally, but I’d be damned if he would know that.

  The third time I showed up in the laundry, the supervisor asked me whose shit list I’d gotten on. I just smiled and made some benign, safe comment and got to work. François was my shadow, and if he wasn’t looking over my shoulder, he was watching me from across the room. I’m surprised I didn’t see his feet in the bathroom stall next to me. Not only did I have him nipping at my heels, but I was also on heightened alert for any sighting of Lowe. That was the last thing I needed today. The only good thing was that François made no reference to his phone call this morning, nor was there any indication he was going to write me up. If he couldn’t get to me that way, he tried the other.

  I punched out at 6:45 and was on my way to my room to collapse when I ran into Raul by the payroll office.

  “Chica, you owe me a story and twelve beers,” he said, much too happily.

  “No. I owe you a story over twelve beers consumed by you and me.” I emphasized the joint-drinking part. “But not tonight, Raul. I’m exhausted, and François ran my ass off today.”

  “He has it in for you, chica.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I said as we walked down the narrow corridor. Whether it was because I was a lesbian, a hard worker, a female, or some other stupid reason, I’d concluded that François had stayed up all night thinking of ways he could make me miserable. He was always just this side of harassment, so I couldn’t do much other than complete my job the best I could. Thankfully, I didn’t have to work with him very often.

  “You do not look well. You need nourishment.”

  Raul could be somebody’s grandmother, the way he dotes on people and is completely convinced that food is the solution to everything that ails anyone.

  “I’m too tired to eat. I’m going to bed and not wake up until my shift tomorrow.”

  “What time are you on?”

  “Two till eleven. I’m scheduled for Remington’s. But who knows? I do know, though, if I don’t lie down and get some sleep, I’ll fall down.”

  “She was that good, huh?” Raul asked, raising and lowering his eyebrows à la Groucho Marx.

  “Better.” I hip-bumped him.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for your señorita.”

  “What?”

  “Lowe Carter. If I see her, I’ll bring her down.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. She is not my señorita, and I do not want you to bring her to my cabin.” I stopped and laid my arm on his, turning him to face me. “I mean it, Raul. Do not do it.” Raul was a romantic and wanted everyone to be in love.

  “Did you not have a good time with her?”

  Several other staff passed us, and I waited until they were out of earshot to answer.

  “I do not want to talk about Lowe Carter, and I do not want her anywhere near my cabin. Understand?”

  “I understand,” he said quietly.

  “I mean it, Raul.” I warned him again. “You know the rules.”

  “Okay. I will let you rest,” he said, clearly dejected. “But tomorrow is another day.”

  For sure it would be, and I hoped it would be better than this one.

  After a hot shower, I crawled under the covers, pulling the sheet up to my chin. I started to think about Lowe, but I forced myself to think of something else. That lasted about three minutes.

  I dreamed about warm skin and soft kisses. A touch that ignited my core and smoldering blue eyes that caught and held mine. Lips that were so close we shared the same air. Sighs of pleasure, moans of ecstasy, and shouts of release filling the space around us. Being blatantly erotic and bashfully shy. Sharing everything and holding nothing back, and completely losing my mind.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Day Eighteen

  At sea

  Great Barrier Reef to Sydney

  I woke horny as hell and not that much more rested than when I lay down. I’d tossed and turned all night, fully expecting Raul to knock on my door with Lowe in hand. My breasts were swollen with desire, my clit pounding for relief, my breath coming in gasps. My hand was already between my legs, the other pinching my nipple. I ignored the ringing of my alarm clock, and it wasn’t long until I climaxed.

  “Holy fuck,” I said after I was finally able to catch my breath. That was the most powerful self-induced orgasm in my life, and I struggled to focus. For a moment I expected Lowe to slide up my body and kiss me, my scent on her lips; the dream was that real.

  I stared at the ceiling, watching the fan cast shadows in the early morning sun. I needed to get up, pull myself together, and get to work. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t lie in bed all day fantasizing about Lowe. I swung my legs over the side and stood.

  A wave of dizziness swam over me, and I grabbed the headboard until it passed. I was probably dehydrated, and I hadn’t eaten much in the last forty-eight hours. Raul was right. I did need to take better care of myself.

  After a long, hot shower and two bottles of water, I closed and locked the door behind me. My head was still a little foggy, but I’d have some coffee and push through the inconvenience.

  I couldn’t help but look for Lowe as I approached The Cuppa. It was busy, several people waiting for their order with another five or six in line. I looked at my watch. I had time, so I stepped behind one of the residents.

  “Monica, you need to get this order to the Carters on fifteen,” a man wearing a white chef hat said from his place behind the counter.

  I knew the order was for Lowe’s parents. A rush of warmth flowed through me at the thought of her. I closed my eyes to banish the image of Lowe lying naked on the large hotel bed, her back arched as she came. I opened them quickly—not a good idea. If I kept this up, I’d probably drop somebody’s meal or hot coffee in their lap.

  I switched topics and thought about my mum and Angelica. My watch had two faces, one set to local time, whatever that was, and the other on Florida time. It was after dinner, and my mum had probably cleaned up the kitchen and was helping Angelica with her homework.

  I stepped out of line and reached for my phone. It had been a week since I’d talked to my mum, and I’d never gone this long without calling. She never called me because she never knew where exactly I was. Ship-to-shore calls were free for the crew but ghastly expensive the other way around. She had the emergency number, but she’d never had to use it.

  At fifty-two, my mum has had a hard life. We immigrated to Florida when I was ten, and my mum found her new country challenging. She fell for the wrong guy, and by the time she met the right one, I was fourteen years old. The man I called Pop had moved us to Tampa but died in a roofing accident shortly thereafter, leaving behind my mother and my unborn baby sister Angelica.

  My mum has psoriatic arthritis, an autoimmune disorder that affects her joints, primarily her wrists, hands, and knees. Getting out of bed in the morning can sometimes be a challenge for Mum, but she pushes through the pain and lethargy to get Angelica to school and herself to work. When Angelica was four, she was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum, which meant they slapped a defining label on her. If not for the diligent work of my mum, Angelica would have languished in elementary school until she aged out. The money I send home every month pays Angelica’s tuition in a special school and for one-on-one specialized therapy.

  The last time I spoke with my mum, I could tell by the tight tone in her voice that she was in a lot of pain. She would never tell me, so I relied on our neighbor, Louise, for updates. I send Louise a monthly stipend to keep an eye on Mum and Angelica and report back anything I need to know. Mum doesn’t know about this arrangement, which I prefer. Louise lets me know when Angelica needs something or Mum’s prescriptions are getting low or her electric bill too high. My mum fusses at me all the time for taking care of things, but I do it anyway. They’re my family, and that says it all.

  “Hello?”

  My mum’s voice greeted me as if she were down the block
, not halfway around the world.

  “Hi, Mum.”

  “Faith, my goodness. It’s so good to hear from you. Shh, in a minute,” she said to someone, most likely my sister.

  “Faith, honey, how are you? Are you okay? Are you eating enough?”

  I laughed. I could have scripted my mother’s questions as if I’d said them myself. She asked the same questions every time I rang her. When we were together, she did the same, except for clucking her tongue and telling me I was too thin.

  After reassuring her I was fit and full, we caught up for a few minutes as I walked down the corridor. I’d skip coffee any day for the chance to talk to my family.

  “Faith, what’s wrong?” my mum asked, catching me off guard.

  “What?”

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.” I hadn’t really, though my mind had drifted to Lowe.

  “Nothing, Mum.” I was never a good liar and certainly not to my mum. When I was younger I’d look above my head, fully expecting to see a flashing neon sign that said LIAR when I did.

  “Do not lie to me, Faith Elisabeth Williams.”

  I knew I was in big trouble when my mum broke out my full name.

  “Are you sick? Did you get fired?”

  “No, Mum.” I shook my head. Jeez. Why did she always jump to the worst conclusion?

  “I just wanted to hear your voice.” The instant after the words passed my lips, I knew that was the wrong thing to say.

  “There is something wrong. Tell me.”

  I wondered if, when I had a child, I would have the same sixth sense as my mum has. Did that come with mum training, the same class that taught all mums to say no.

  “It’s nothing, Mum.” My protest was weak.

  “Do not tell me it’s nothing. If it were, you’d not be ringing me.”