Dreamboat (22 page)

“I want to stand out on the balcony,” he finally said, pushing back from the table. “Join me?”

“Yes,” she said, glad for the invitation. The sea air would be bracing after a good meal, she thought.

The wind was powerful and the spray high, but they leaned back against the glass balcony doors, where they were protected by the panels
that separated them from the adjoining balconies. Without being able to help it, she shivered.

“You're cold,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Crissy almost jerked away but restrained herself, letting him keep his arm around her but hoping he didn't go any further. She didn't want to disappoint him, nor did she want to encourage him. They stood together in silence, content to gaze out at the rough seas and the dark sky. The vast expanse was beautiful to her, even with the less than pleasant weather, and she was reminded of nature's power and beauty as she never was driving the streets of Albany.

“Have you enjoyed yourself?” Mark asked after awhile.

“Yes,” Crissy said. “It's been lovely.”

“Would you join me in the disco?”

Crissy hesitated.

“Only for a few dances,” he added.

“Okay,” she said. “I'd like that.”

They went back inside and left for the disco after Mark called to have the dining table cleaned up. In the disco, he led her to a small table at the back, away from the dance floor, its ever-changing lights, and the throng of people that surrounded it.
Just like Luca did,
she thought. They were hardly seated before a solicitous waitress appeared, her eyes bright as they focused on Mark.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, her lips, heavily painted in red, spreading in a smile. She shifted her weight, thrusting a long leg toward him.

Mark turned to Crissy. “What would you like?” he asked.

“A mineral water with lime,” Crissy replied.

“Make that two,” he told the waitress, who smiled and curtseyed, then left.

“I think she likes you,” Crissy said.

“She knows who I am,” Mark replied with disgust. “It's a nuisance, the way they throw themselves at you like whores.”

Crissy was surprised by his vehemence, even if she could imagine the come-ons he had to endure. “She's probably a little starstruck,” she said, hoping he would lighten up.

“Let's dance,” he said, abruptly getting to his feet.

This was less an invitation than a demand, she thought, but she rose to her feet. “Will my purse be okay?”

“Of course,” he said. “The help wouldn't dare touch it, and they wouldn't let anyone else either.”

She let him lead her to the dance floor, where he took her into his arms for a slow number. Valentin, who was partnering an attractive middle-aged lady, almost imperceptibly nodded to her, then immediately turned his attention back to the woman he was dancing with.

“So you know Valentin, I see,” Mark said, the familiar smirk on his face.

He doesn't miss a thing,
Crissy thought. “I've danced with him a few times,” she said. “I don't really know him.”

“He dances with all the ladies,” Mark said. “That's what he's here for.”

“What do you mean?” Crissy asked, looking up at him.

“Just what I said,” Mark retorted. “He gets a small salary, a free trip, and a drink discount for keeping the women happy. Especially women who are traveling alone or don't have husbands.”

“He's
paid
to dance with passengers?” Crissy said in astonishment.

“Of course,” Mark replied. “You didn't know that?”

“No,” she said. She didn't tell him that she had assumed Valentin was interested in her.

“He's like a gigolo,” Mark said with amusement. “There are usually a couple of real ones operating on any trip, preying on older women, lonely women, looking for money in exchange for sex or just attention, but we make certain that there's always someone like Valentin. He poses no risk to the women and is always available to dance.”

“How weird,” Crissy said. “Dancing your way around the world for a living.”

“Oh, no,” Mark said. “It's not like that. We hire a different man for every trip, and never use the same one twice.”

“Why?”

“We have many repeat customers,” he said. “Especially women who travel a lot. Widows, whatever. We don't want them to know that the man asking them to dance is paid to do it. It would insult some of them. So we use a service that provides presentable men for the job.”

“So it's not a problem to find men to do it?” she asked.

“Never,” he said. “There's a long waiting list, especially of Eastern European men who want to get out of Romania or Bulgaria. Some of them are Albanian, Serbs. You get the picture.”

Crissy was still somewhat shocked by this revelation. Valentin was
very good at his job, she thought, because he certainly made her feel as if he was more than a little interested in her.

Another slow dance was played, and they didn't leave the floor. Mina and Rudy came into view, and she waved to them. Rudy saw her and gave her a thumbs-up.

Mark observed the interchange, then looked down at Crissy. “Peasants,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Those people. One foot still on the farm,” he said. “Have you noticed that Monika likes to surround herself with people who are, shall we say, less exposed to the world than she?”

Crissy felt as if she'd been burned, his remark was so insulting, and she blushed with embarrassment.

“I didn't mean you, of course,” Mark said. “You're different.”

“How?” Crissy asked, not certain she wanted to hear the answer.

“You're beautiful, for one thing,” Mark said. “You're also very intelligent. A quick study, as you say in English. You are also very sensitive, I think.”

“I don't have one foot still on the farm?” she said tartly.

“No,” he replied, “but I don't think you ever did. Not like that Austrian couple.”

Crissy had a vision of extricating herself from his arms and walking off the dance floor, leaving him behind, so angry had his remarks made her. Mina and Rudy had been very nice to her since they'd met, and she didn't like hearing them talked about in such a derogatory way. Maybe they were peasants, as he'd put it, but they had become her friends.

The dance ended, and they went back to their table. Their drinks were waiting, and they both sipped the mineral water. Crissy noticed that a large bottle had been brought, without Mark asking for it. One of the privileges of being the owner's son, she thought. She glanced around the disco, wondering if Luca and the captain's party had arrived, but she didn't see him or any of the others.

“You're very quiet,” Mark said.

“I was just thinking,” she said.

“About what?” he asked.

“It's getting late,” she replied, “and I think I should get back to my cabin soon.”

“I've upset you, haven't I?” he said, reaching over and placing a hand on her arm.

“Actually, you have,” Crissy replied. “I-I don't like to hear my friends trashed. They've been really nice to me.”

“I'm sorry,” Mark said in a voice that sounded sincere. “I didn't mean anything by it, really.”

Crissy didn't respond but took another sip of water.

“You're not European,” Mark said, “so you couldn't really understand, I suppose. But I wasn't being nasty.”

“You could have fooled me,” Crissy said flatly.

“Please,” he said, almost pleading, “don't be upset. I apologize if I insulted you or your friends. Do you want me to ask them over for a drink?”

“No,” Crissy said, shaking her head. “I think I really should get going in a minute.” She forced a smile. “I think it's all the wonderful food I had with you tonight. It's made me sleepy.”

Mark smiled ruefully. “At least you enjoyed that.”

“Oh, I've enjoyed the evening very much,” Crissy said. Without thinking, she reached over and put a hand on his arm. “I hope you don't think otherwise.”

“I'm glad,” he said. “Maybe we can have a nightcap in my cabin.”

She shook her head. “I can't have anything else,” she said, begging off, “and I really am exhausted.”

“That's too bad,” Mark said. “I'll walk you back to your cabin. Maybe we can have dinner again soon.”

“That would be great,” Crissy said.

Mark got up and slid her chair back from the table. Crissy picked up her purse, then took the hand he extended to her. He led her toward the exit, and Crissy noticed Jenny and Dr. Von Meckling on the edge of the dance floor. It was a fast dance, and the elderly doctor was making a valiant effort to appear to be dancing by moving his arms about and shuffling his feet. He was a good sport, Crissy thought, but she still had trouble imagining Jenny, of all people, devoting time to him rather than the younger men who would gladly rush to her side if she gave them the slightest sign of interest.

Once inside, she slumped against the door for a moment. Having dinner with a rich man was exhausting. What did Mark see in her, when he looked down on everyone else? His attraction to her, she decided, was a result of his loneliness on the trip; that and the fact that she was different from the types of women who usually pursued him. They came from such
different worlds that she didn't think the gap could ever be bridged. He made her feel as if she were a bonbon, a treat he would indulge in.

She had begun to undress when the telephone bleeped. Answering it, she was thrilled to hear Luca's voice.

“I-I wondered if I could see you,” he said haltingly.

Crissy felt her heart soar. “I would love to,” she replied. Any fatigue she'd felt evaporated immediately.

“You would?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course I would,” she said. “What would make you think anything else? I've tried to get hold of you, and I've really been worried that I didn't hear from you.”

“Oh, my God,” Luca said. “I see that I've been completely wrong.”

“About what?” Crissy asked.

“I saw you in the disco with Mark Vilos,” he said, “and I thought . . . Well, I thought that—”

“Oh, Luca!” she exclaimed. “If you only knew. I'd been waiting to hear from you. I looked for you, but didn't see you. I thought maybe you weren't really interested in me.”

“Oh, my God,” he repeated. “Meet me right now. This minute.”

“Where?” she asked without hesitation.

“On the pool deck,” he said. “Do you know where we went the last time?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I'm on my way.” Without giving it any further thought, she rushed out the door and up to the pool deck.

The music in the background was an electronic dance mix on low volume, the perfect accompaniment, she thought. Not too slow, not too fast. Jenny kicked off her heels and slipped out of the glittery, revealing top she was wearing. Her ample breasts sprang free, her darkish nipples already hard. She swung her head, throwing her hair back out of her eyes, then unzipped the top's matching miniskirt, letting it fall to the floor. She wore no underwear, and she heard the moan of pleasure from the bed at the sight of the shaved mound between her thighs. Sliding a finger in her mouth, she laved it with her tongue, then placed it on her mound, thrusting her hips forward lasciviously, rubbing her finger up and down, before inserting it and moving her hips slowly around it, a look of wanton desire etched on her features. She moved closer and closer to the bed, puckering her lips provocatively, gyrating on her
finger, watching him watch her, taking delight in his arousal, in teasing him mercilessly.

He rose slowly from the bed, his erection swinging out in front of him, his eyes never leaving the sight of her in her naked glory. When he reached her, he put a hand on each of her shoulders and pushed her to her knees. She was prepared for this, for they had done it last night, and she willingly, gladly took him in her mouth and began licking him with her tongue, letting him slowly push himself farther in, then pull nearly out, before pushing in again. Over and over until he couldn't bear the sensation any longer. Moaning again, he slowly pulled all the way out, and her tongue slid to his balls, flicking them lightly, then licking them in earnest before he helped her to her feet, a hand under each arm.

His mouth closed over hers, and he kissed her with passionate desire, his tongue engulfing her while his hands found her breasts and kneaded them, then thrummed her nipples between his fingers. A lustful sigh escaped Jenny's lips, and she reached down and stroked his engorged shaft. She could hardly wait to have it inside her.

As if reading her mind, he led her to the bed, where she lay back, spreading her legs wide. He got onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. He put a hand on her shaved mound, slipping his thumb inside her, feeling her wet readiness, before removing it and sliding it in his mouth, tasting it, his eyes burning into hers. He lowered his body atop hers, and he entered her, pushing himself in as far as he could.

Jenny almost levitated with ecstasy. “Oh, my God,” she cried. Swept up in a tidal wave of desire, she began to move against him, grinding her pelvis against his. He groaned, then began thrusting himself in and out, in and out, his body seemingly possessed by hers. Unable to control his desire, he thrust with abandon, and Jenny, engulfed by his manhood, flung her legs out and clawed his back as she came, flooding him as she contracted over and over, her head twisting from side to side. He let out a loud grunt as he exploded inside her, his body stiffening momentarily before he collapsed atop her, panting from the effort.

“Ahhhh,” she rasped, reveling in the feel of his sweaty body against hers, “that . . . that was the best yet. The best . . . ever.”

He didn't reply but continued to pant, catching his breath, enjoying the sensation of his cock inside her. He lay motionless for awhile, still silent except for the sound of his labored breathing, in his own world and thinking his own thoughts, Jenny presumed. Finally, as his breathing
returned to normal and he began to shrink inside her, he pulled out and rolled off her in one fluid motion.