Dreamboat (18 page)

“Oh, my God,” he moaned, gently pulling down on her panty hose.

Crissy mewled with pleasure when she felt his bare hand against her nakedness, and gasped aloud when she felt his finger enter her. “Oh, Luca,” she whispered. “You feel so wonderful . . . so wonderful.”

He was panting, almost as if in pain. Crissy began to stroke him through the white trousers of his uniform. He jerked at her touch, then with a moan that seemed to come from deep down inside him, he yielded to her touch, grinding himself against her, all the while continuing to delve inside her most secret place.

Suddenly they heard laughter and voices and loud off-key singing behind them, and they quickly silenced their desire, yet remained entwined with each other.

He looked down into her eyes and smiled. “Maybe they'll pass on by,” he whispered.

Crissy returned his smile, then let her head fall against his chest. “I hope so,” she said.

They stayed immobile, waiting, but the revelers, very drunk by the sound of their laughter and talk and singing, grew in number and volume as the door to the deck swung open again and again. It finally became apparent that they were part of a conga line that had formed in the disco and was now working its way out onto the deck.

Crissy and Luca, frustrated as they were, finally laughed, realizing that they were to have no privacy, at least not for quite some time. They discreetly straightened their clothes and resumed looking out to sea, his arm around her shoulder, holding her close, but the raucous crowd made
conversation impossible, so they left the railing and went back inside, smiling at the revelers but refusing their demands to join the conga line.

“We can go to the pool deck,” Luca said, gently squeezing her hand. “It's probably deserted at this hour.”

When they reached it, they were surprised to find several people in lounges stargazing, chatting, and drinking. “Damn,” Luca swore. “This ship never sleeps.” He laughed. “I wish we could go to my quarters, but I don't think that's a good idea. All the crew would know tomorrow.” They leaned against a railing to talk, away from the other passengers on the deck.

“We could go to mine,” Crissy said. “At least I think we could. I'm never sure what Jenny's up to. She could be there with someone or bring somebody in. You never know.”

“Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea then,” Luca said.

“I heard you're not really supposed to mix quite so closely with passengers,” Crissy said.

“It happens, of course,” Luca said, “but I don't want you to be the object of gossip and possibly ridicule.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The crew will talk,” he said, “and some of them will talk to passengers they are familiar with, too. And in the most pejorative terms. Just like they talk about the American I've seen you with who's stayed over with Manolo, one of the officers. It's a tightly knit little community on board.”

“Jenny,” Crissy said. “That's who I was taking about. She's my friend, and we're cabinmates.”

“I didn't mean to disparage your friend,” Luca said, “but I don't like the idea of you being the subject of nasty jokes and gossip like she is.”

“Oh, so they're talking about Jenny, huh?” she said.

He nodded. “Yes. It's silly, of course, but all the guys are going to be hitting on her now. I don't think that's what you want.”

“No,” she said. “Definitely not.”

“I didn't think so, and I wouldn't want it for you,” Luca said, taking her hand in his. “It would make me crazy.” He sighed. “Let's go out on the deck just fore of here,” he said. “Maybe there won't be anyone out there. There almost never is.”

“Yes,” Crissy said, getting up. “Let's give it a try.”

He led her around the bar area to a door that led out onto a small stretch of deck that was fortunately deserted. Luca took a lounge from
a stack and placed it near the bulkhead. “Here,” he said, “you can spread out.”

Crissy sat down and took off her heels, then spread out on the chaise. When she saw that Luca was joining her, she scooted over as much as possible. He sat down at her side and gazed at her. “You are so beautiful,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

“And so are you,” Crissy replied, putting a hand on his head, running her fingers through his thick black hair.

They kissed for a long time, Luca's lips and tongue tracing a path to her ears and neck as before. He began fondling her breasts, and Crissy found herself once again responding to him with complete abandon. She wanted to give herself to him, and she wanted him. When his hand slid under her dress and up her thigh, she parted her legs, anxious to feel him inside her again. She lifted herself off the lounge, and Luca pulled her panty hose down, then his lips pressed against hers as he slipped a finger inside. Crissy moaned and pushed herself against him, and then his one finger was joined by another. She gasped and felt for his crotch. He shifted on the lounge accommodatingly, and Crissy felt the hardness as before.

Maddened by desire, she felt she would gladly pay any price to have him—all of him.

Luca was panting, his desire reaching a point of no return as he probed the recesses of her sweet wetness, but he abruptly withdrew and sat back. “Come with me,” he said, standing up and offering her a hand.

Crissy quickly got up and grabbed her shoes. He was already leading her toward a metal staircase that led up to the area around the ship's funnel. There was a chain across the entry, and he unhooked it, let her through, then followed her after he'd hooked the chain back in place.

“Up,” he said. At the top of the stairs, he took her hand again and led her around to the back of the funnel to a small, almost flat area. “No one will come up here,” he said.

He embraced her, kissing her passionately before slowly unzipping the back of her dress, brushing his lips against her naked back as he did so. When he was finished, he helped her sit, then sat down beside her. He put his arms around her again and gently eased the top of her dress off her shoulders. Staring at her creamy breasts in the moonlight, he sucked in his breath. “You are so perfect,” he whispered as he began fondling her, then kissing and licking her nipples.

Crissy felt a shiver of pleasure run up her spine, and she undid his belt,
then unbuttoned his trousers. He was fully engorged, and when she touched him he groaned aloud. “Oh, my God,” he rasped.

Crissy felt him throbbing for release in her hand as she stroked him, and when he began pulling down her panty hose, she could hardly wait for him to enter her. He buried his face in her breasts, licking and kissing her passionately as she pulled her dress up out of the way and he maneuvered himself next to her. She felt the head of his cock hard against her mound and thought she would have an orgasm before he entered her, and when he did, she let out a cry of ecstasy. “Oh, Luca,” she whispered. “Oh, you feel so good. So wonderful.”

He moved farther inside her, then gently rolled her onto her back, holding himself above her without putting all of his weight on her, so as not to make her any more uncomfortable against the hard deck. He slowly began pushing himself inside her, then in one thrust, entered as far as he could go.

Crissy felt as if she couldn't possibly accommodate him, but she wanted all of him and nothing less. She pushed against him, her desire overcoming any other concerns, and he began moving slowly in and out, in and out, until she suddenly felt contractions and was engulfed in waves of ecstacy.

Luca, spurred on by her orgasm, let out a lusty growl as he came, his body tensing momentarily as he flooded her with his desire. “Oh, my God,” he rasped. “Oh, my God.” He rolled her onto her side again and lay against her, panting, his lips brushing against her lips, her nose and eyes, her cheeks, and forehead.

Crissy lay catching her breath, bathing in the afterglow of their intimacy. She felt fulfilled as never before, and knew without a doubt that no one in the past had ever aroused her like this. Her thoughts drifted to Tom Gentry and the way she had felt after their one night of lovemaking, but something deep down inside told her that this was different. Luca's behavior had been anything but calculating or manipulative. He had a purity, an innocence, that seemed to her unspoiled.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispered as he kissed her ear.

“Oh, just how wonderful you make me feel,” she replied.

He hugged her to him. “Isn't it a dream come true? It is for me, Crissy.”

“Oh, yes, for me, too,” she said. “A dream come true.”

He smothered her in kisses again, and Crissy returned them, wanting to trust her feelings for him, to believe in the magic of the night.

At last she drew back reluctantly. “We're liable to be found here at dawn if this keeps up.”

He grinned. “I know, but I can't help it.”

“Maybe we should start getting back to our cabins,” she said, running a finger down the side of his face. She didn't want the night to end, but she knew that it must soon. “Will you help me with my dress?”

“Of course. Just a second.” He carefully zipped up his pants, buttoned them, and redid his belt. They both got to their knees, and he helped her into the sleeves of her dress, then zipped up the back.

They descended the metal stairs to the empty deck below. She slipped into her heels, and they walked hand in hand back to the pool deck. A few people were still chatting in lounges or stargazing. He led her to her cabin, where he took her into his arms and kissed her with passion.

“Have fun tomorrow,” he said, “and I'll see you after you board the ship in Nice.”

She nodded. “I can hardly wait,” she said.

He reluctantly released her. “ 'Night,” he said, brushing her lips with his fingertips.

“ 'Night, Luca.”

He went back down the corridor, then turned toward the stairwell. Crissy got the key card out and let herself into the cabin. Jenny wasn't there, for which she was grateful. She would love to share the excitement she felt about the evening, but had mixed feelings about sharing the experience with Jenny, who would probably dismiss it as nothing more than a sexual tryst. As she undressed and got ready for bed, Crissy realized that she'd never heard Jenny actually talk about being in love with any of the men she'd gone out with. Not even her ex-husband, for that matter. Men were toys for Jenny, she thought, nothing more.

After she got into bed and turned out the light, her head was still spinning. She had never dreamed that one night could change her so completely. She'd always feared that fate had dealt her a hand so humdrum, so ordinary, that she would spend the rest of her days feeling as if she'd never lived. Now she knew that her fears had been groundless. She had a date with destiny, and its name was Luca.

Georgios Vilos paced the marble floor of his luxurious library in the exclusive Athenian suburb of Kifissia. Stopping for a moment, he dabbed at the sweat that beaded his face and neck.
Goddamn it!
he thought, irritated by his body's response to his extreme state of nervous agitation. The sweat simply wouldn't stop pouring, and he was beginning to feel too exhausted to deal with it.

He went to the chair behind his desk and sat down, fumbling for one of the cell phones that were aligned in a neat row to the right of the desk's leather surface.
Oh, dear God,
he thought with a sense of growing horror.
It's come to this. I've got to get hold of Mark and get him off that damned ship.

There was a slight tremor in his hand as he picked up the cell phone, irritating him even further.
There's time,
he thought.
Plenty of time. Mark will be okay. Mark will be fine.
He took a deep breath and flipped the cell phone open, then pressed the buttons for the telephone number, his thick fingers hitting the correct buttons, despite their minute size and the tremor in his hand.

The phone rang and rang. Three rings. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
Goddamn it!
Ten rings. Twelve.
Nothing!

Nothing! Mark wasn't answering his cell phone as he'd promised he would. Now what? Georgios Vilos waited for his son's voice mail to pick up, and when the disembodied computer-generated voice finally responded, he almost shouted his message.

“Mark. Mark! You promised to answer your cell phone,” he cried. “Call me immediately! Immediately!”

He slammed the cell phone shut and banged it against the desktop in a fury.
What is he doing? Why is the little shit doing this to me
now?
Why? Why?

Georgios Vilos abruptly stood up and began pacing the marble floor again.
Goddamn him,
he thought.
Goddamn him! Why is he doing this to me?
He would give anything to get his hands on his son, to beat some sense into him. He was just like his mother. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Ungrateful.

Georgios Vilos quit pacing and went to the drinks table, where he poured himself a glass of ouzo. Dispensing with ice, he tossed back a long swallow of the fiery, anise-flavored drink, then threw the glass to the floor, where it shattered, shards flying across the room.

The plastic explosives were in Mark's suite. Under his very nose. The
madman who would be using them had no regard for human life.
Any
human life, Mark's included.

He retraced his steps to his desk and picked up the cell phone again, then dialed the number. It rang and rang, as before. Georgios Vilos felt as if he would explode with fury.

Why?
he asked himself again.
Why is he doing this to me? My own son!

Chapter Ten

“O
h, my God! My feet! I can hardly walk!”

The loud wail awoke Crissy, but she was so groggy that she hardly registered what she'd heard. She only knew that for some reason Jenny must be in great distress. She slowly sat up, propping herself on her elbows, and looked at the other bed. Jenny was sitting on its edge, still dressed in the revealing outfit she'd worn the night before. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and her makeup was badly in need of repair. She sat with one leg propped atop her knee, foot in hand. She was studying the foot as if it were a rare biological specimen. Crissy watched as she carefully touched the bottom of her foot with a finger and saw her jerk.

“Je-sus!” she wailed again.

“What is it, Jen?” Crissy asked sleepily. “What's wrong?”

“Oh, damn!” Jenny cried. “I don't believe this.”

“What don't you believe?” Crissy asked, sitting up fully. She glanced at her wristwatch on the bedside cabinet and saw that it was seven o'clock.

“My feet,” Jenny moaned. “My goddamn feet.” She gingerly placed the one she'd been looking at on the floor and placed the other one on her knee, examining it as she had the other one. “I started a conga line last night,” she said. “I danced a lot on the carpeted area in the disco,” she replied, “then on some of that fucking Astroturf out on deck.” She looked down at her foot again. “The fucking stuff burned my feet! I mean,
burned
them. I can hardly walk.”

“They're that bad, huh?” Crissy threw back the covers on her bed and
got up and went over to look. Peering down closely, she could see nothing out of the ordinary, except that maybe the bottoms of Jenny's feet were a little more red than pink.

“This hurts like hell,” Jenny said.

“I'm sorry, sweetie,” Crissy sympathized. “Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe if you soaked them in cold water and put some lotion on them. What do you think?”

Jenny glanced at her as if she were mad. “What is that? Some kind of ancient Vietnamese folk medicine?”

Crissy was miffed by the remark, but in a neutral voice she replied, “I really don't know the first thing about Vietnamese folk medicine. I just thought that since they feel burned, the cold water might help, and a little moisturizing lotion never hurt anything. I don't know if it'll actually help.”

“That's ridiculous,” Jenny said. “I'm going to have to go to the doctor.”

“The hospital opens at eight o'clock,” Crissy said. “Do you want me to take you down there?”

“No,” Jenny said impatiently. “I'm quite capable of taking care of this myself, thank you very much.”

Jenny was always so carefree and happy-go-lucky that her unpleasantness came as a surprise to Crissy, but she told herself that it was because she was in pain. “I know you're capable,” she said. “I just wanted to see if I could do anything to help.”

Jenny put her foot on the floor and sighed. “I look a mess, and I've got the world's worst hangover,” she said, ignoring Crissy's remark. “Plus I didn't get any sleep.”

“None at all?”

“No,” Jenny replied. “I partied with some people from Montreal and just came in a few minutes ago.” She gave Crissy a penetrating look. “Some of us aren't early birds like you.”

“I wanted to get some sleep before today's excursion. It's a long one. More than ten hours.”

Jenny flapped a hand in the air as if what Crissy had said was of no consequence. “I'm not going,” she said. “I'm staying on the boat.”

“That's too bad,” Crissy said. “I'll miss you, but maybe you should stay off your feet.”

For lunch, Crissy loaded a tray at the cafeteria-style dining room and went outside to find a place to eat on deck. Thankfully, she found an empty
table next to the port side. No one joined her, but she enjoyed looking out to sea, the cool morning air, the sun, and sky. Birds wheeled about in the air near the ship, and she saw several boats in the distance. Suddenly she realized that the ship was slowing considerably. Seeing land, she got up and stood at the railing.

The hills of the Ligurian coast of Italy were just ahead, and she could see that they were dotted with houses and apartment buildings. Along the shore were large hotels and behind them what looked like the business center of San Remo. The town looked beautiful, tumbling down the hills to the sea, and she took several pictures while they were heading in to the pier. When the ship was finally docked, she followed the crowd toward Deck Two, where they would disembark.

Once she had finally gone through security and was on the dock, she walked to the waiting buses, looking for her friends. Monika's wild silver hair was not visible anywhere, but she soon saw Mina, who was waving to her.

“Rudy has saved seats as usual,” Mina said.

“Thanks,” Crissy said.

“Did you have a good time last night?” Mina asked, smiling mischievously.

Crissy nodded. “I did,” she said, unable to keep her lips from forming a smile.

Mina laughed merrily. “I'm so glad,” she said. “He's a terribly handsome man. Sooo sexy.”

“He's very nice, too,” Crissy said.

“Oh, how convenient,” Mina replied. “I often find that very good-looking men aren't necessarily pleasant to be with. Rudy's an exception, of course.”

“He certainly is,” Crissy said, “and that's convenient for you.”

“Touché,” Mina said with a laugh, then her attention was drawn to the crowd still getting off the ship. “Good. Here comes Dr. Von Meckling. Everyone else is on the bus. I'll wait for him, and you can go on and take a seat if you want.”

She boarded the bus and saw Monika and Rudy. “Here,” Monika called from several rows back. “Have a seat next to me, darling.”

Crissy joined her, saying hello to Rudy across the aisle.

Monika patted her arm. “We missed you last evening,” she said, “going off with that young man the way you did.”

“I'm sorry,” Crissy said, “but I needed to get away from all the noise and smoke and get some air.”

“He's Italian, you know,” Monika said unnecessarily. “That could mean a lot of trouble for you.”

“Why's that?” Crissy asked, perplexed by her comment.

Mina and Dr. Von Meckling said hello as they took the seats Rudy had saved for them, then Crissy repeated her question. “Why's that?”

“Oh, surely you know about Italian men,” she said. “Mistresses. All of them have mistresses, my darling. All of them arrogant and concerned with appearance.” She paused, then added in a whisper, “And Roman Catholic, but not like us Austrians. Primitives. The worst sort of primitives as far as the church goes.”

Crissy almost laughed aloud. Wasn't this similar to what Monika said about Valentin and Bulgarians? Was there not a man worthy of attention who was not Austrian or German? She wondered whether or not Monika really believed what she said or was simply trying to keep her away from men so she had her all to herself.

“Monika,” she finally said, “Luca is a very nice man. A civilized man. He's a doctor, for God's sake.”

“Doctor!” Monika practically spat. “That means nothing anymore. And a ship's doctor to boot! I ask you, if you were a decent medical man, would you deign to practice on a ship? I don't think so.”

“Well, I enjoyed spending time with him,” Crissy said, “and I think he's very intelligent. His father is a doctor in Florence, and his mother is American. An art restorer. And, he's not planning on practicing on the ship forever. This was a place for him to start and to see some of the world before settling down.”

“
Gott in Himmel,
” Monika said. “You know an awful lot about him.” She grabbed Crissy's arm. “Be careful. I've heard rumors about him.”

“What kind of rumors?” Crissy asked.

“Oh, all sorts of things,” Monika said. “He's a terrible womanizer.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And he has very . . . exotic, shall we say . . . tastes.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Crissy asked.

“I'm speaking of sexual proclivities,” Monika whispered. “Very peculiar.”

Crissy couldn't help but wonder what Monika was talking about. Luca had seemed to have anything but exotic tastes, as Monika had put
it, but she reminded herself that she really knew very little about him. Perhaps he had restrained himself last night, for their first time together. A wave of despair came over her. Could what Monika was saying really be true?

Jenny was glad she had been to a spa before leaving for the trip. She'd had a pedicure among many other treatments, and she had refreshed the pinkish pearl polish on her toenails only yesterday. She couldn't help but laugh, thinking that she wanted to put her best foot forward for the doctor. When she'd seen him with Crissy, she'd made up her mind, then and there, that she had to have him, despite whatever feelings Crissy might have for him. Crissy could have him back after she was through, so what difference did it make? Manolo had become a bore, actually getting serious about her. And this doctor, from what she'd seen of him at the disco, was one hot stud. Just her type for a few days of sexual acrobatics.

When she reached the reception area, she was disappointed to see that several people were waiting to see the doctor. She picked up one magazine after another, leafing through them for something interesting. The receptionist came in and asked Jenny to fill out a form. Jenny took it from her, thinking what a hideous and unpleasant woman she was.

The wait went on and on. She began to wonder if her mission would ever be accomplished and was about to abandon it when the doctor helped one of the patients to the door.
Oh, no,
she told herself.
I'm sticking this out. He is one hot number, and I'm going to have a shot at him.
He was even better-looking in daylight than he had been in the disco last night.

Finally the monster, whose name was Voula, called her to the back. Jenny noticed that she watched her closely, looking at her as if she were some sort of specimen that she found particularly distasteful. She was slightly unnerving, but Jenny got up and stretched, making certain that her breasts strained against the front of the lightweight T-shirt she'd worn. She wasn't wearing a bra, and knew that the impression her nipples made on the fabric was clearly visible for all to see. At the same time, her T-shirt, which hung just short of her belly button, rose up to fully expose the gold ring with which it was pierced. She hoped the diamond stud on the ring blinked in the light.

Voula watched Jenny's show, then led her to the back, where she introduced her to Dr. Santo.

He shook Jenny's hand and asked her what had brought her to the hospital.

“I was dancing last night for a long time,” Jenny replied, “and this morning my feet were burning. They still are, and it's all I can do to walk.”

“Maybe those stiletto-heeled mules aren't the best shoes to wear under the circumstances,” Luca observed. “They put a strain on your feet, besides which, they slap against them every time you take a step.”

Jenny shrugged. “What's a girl to do? I didn't come prepared for something like this.”

“Well,” he said, “have a seat on the examination table and let me have a look.”

Jenny slid up onto the paper-covered, padded table and put her hands down on it, thrusting her breasts forward at the same time. If he noticed anything, he didn't let on. She spread her legs as far apart as she could in the micro-miniskirt she was wearing. Since she had no underwear on, he should have a very good view, she thought, if he looked in that direction.

“Take off your shoes for me, please,” he said, sliding a chair over toward her and sitting down.

Jenny leaned down and slipped off first one stiletto, then the other. She wiggled her toes. “Oh, they're so sore,” she complained. “What am I going to do tonight? I mean, if you can't dance on this ship, what the hell are you supposed to do?”

“I don't want to tickle you,” he said, carefully taking one foot in a latex-gloved hand.

“Ooooh,” Jenny cooed. “Is that a proposition?”

Luca ignored her comment and examined first one foot, then the other. He kept his eyes averted from the view up her thighs. When he was finished, he announced, “You have a classic case of rug burn, Ms. . . . Ms. . . . ?”

“Jenny,” she said. She wriggled her ass on the paper, then stretched her arms, pulling her T-shirt tight again and exposing her belly button ring with its diamond.

“The best thing for you to do,” he said, “is soak them in cool or cold water a few times a day, and I'm going to give you some ointment to use on them. They'll just be a source of discomfort for another couple of days, then be good as new.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jenny asked.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Of course, if they should start bothering you more or become especially painful, don't hesitate to come back, but I don't think you'll have any problems with them. Also, you might try to give them a couple of days of rest.” He smiled. “Maybe you shouldn't do too much barefoot dancing on the rugs for awhile.”