“Damn it!” I groan and resign myself to just make it back to my cabin. I alter my pace between fast and slow, not sure which is worse. By the time I reach my cabin, my fingers are shaking from the need to get inside and get to stroking.
When I open the door it’s pitch black. Trying to walk to the bathroom and grab a shower, I trip over something, an end table, I think and end up sprawled on the floor. I figure I’d land on the plushy carpet, but my chin bounces off something hard, and my hand gets tangled in fabric that’s been wadded up on the floor.
“What the hell?” I push myself up onto my knees, feeling the sharp jab of something broken under them. Standing quickly to brush them off, I figure something has broken the skin because my hands come away wet. I grope for the light switch and when I flip it up, the scene before me causes me to gasp.
The room is a mess. Not just a mess in the sense that the tables are overturned, and every bit of linen is on the floor, but a mess in the sense that everything is also smashed and broken. Lamps have been shattered and bits of their ceramic bases and the glass from the light bulbs litter the floor. Every article of clothing on my racks has been ripped from the hangers. Some of the cloth has been ripped down the seams and others wadded and thrown on the floor. The bed has been overturned and feathers from the pillows are floating around everywhere. The foam from the mattress is spilling out where someone sliced into it. The chairs have also been vandalized and ripped open. I walk across the room to the bathroom, where the mirror has been shattered and the toilet tank cover has been thrown against the wall and blasted to a million pieces.
I turn in a circle, looking at the splintered drawers ripped out of the bureau, and I gape in astonishment at the ruins of my ransacked room. If I’d been smarter, I would have run and called for help in case the vandal was still in the room, hiding in the shower or closet. But the curtain had been ripped from the rod in the shower and the door to the closet stood open, leaning helplessly on one hinge.
Gaping in horror at the ruins of the room I begin to shake, wondering what would’ve happened if I’d still been here when the perpetrator broke in and ransacked my room. Would I have even been left alive? Judging by the state of destruction, I think the probability of that is highly unlikely.
12
Alex Keys
The shock of the state of the room has me reeling. Who would’ve done something like this? Surely not Aaron. He was looking for a place to camp out, not to get back at me for years of brotherly bickering.
I turn back around and walk out of the room, walking down the hall, searching open cabin doors until I find who I am looking for.
“Do you have any trash bags, paper towels, and cleaning supplies?” the small, balding man in the ship’s uniform stares at me in shock. It’s as if he can’t believe someone like me, a guest, would even acknowledge that housekeeping exists on the ship.
“On the cart,” he points to the cart which was the clue I’d been looking for in the hall. At this late hour, not many people are prowling the halls, so like with hotels, housekeeping had been tasked with cleaning the empty rooms after the majority of the occupants of the ship had gone to bed. “Do you need something cleaned, sir?”
“No, thank you. I’ll take care of it,” I grab the supplies I need, and the man looks uneasy at the amount I take.
“If you need anything, I’ll be in this hall for the remainder of the night.”
“Thanks so much.”
I turn and walk out the door, sighing at the potential task ahead of me. The damage dealt to the room was extensive. The cruise line company is sure to charge me for the mess. I’m sure with such high-maintenance actors and models, he has insurance on the cruise for that very reason. Celebrities have a tendency to flaunt their bottomless wallets and think they can get away with anything they want. Not being of celebrity status, I can’t claim immunity to amassing fines for damages.
I get back to my room and stand outside the door shaking my head, trying to get the images of David underneath me out of my mind. As erotic as it was, it’s dangerous to dwell on it, not knowing his intentions.
I push open the door and jump, seeing Aaron standing in the middle of the mess.
“Where have you been?” I snap.
His face tightens, and he looks like he is going to snap back. “I went to the back deck for a cigarette.”
“Did anyone see you?” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice.
“No. It’s the middle of the night, Alex. Everyone’s asleep.”
“Apparently not,” I gesture around the room angrily.
Aaron glances around with me and his face tightens.
“Any idea who did it?” I ask. I dump the cleaning supplies on the small table beside the bed and grab a trash bag. Snapping it open I start picking up pieces of broken items from the floor and cram them into the bag. I’m not sure how to get the busted glass out of the carpet. It’s too late to run a vacuum cleaner, and I think the housekeeping guy would throw a fit if one of the guests took it upon themselves.
“No. I was about to ask you the same thing,” Aaron picks up a drawer and examines it, pressing the frame back together. It snaps in place and he returns it to the chest of drawers in the closet. Most of the other ones aren’t so lucky.
“Well, I didn’t trash my own room!” I snarl and shove a tattered pillow into the bag. Downy feathers puff up in my face, and I swipe at them angrily.
“I didn’t ask if you trashed the place, Alex. I asked if you knew who did it.”
I don’t bother to answer him. We both know I wouldn’t have done this. I abandon the trash bag and begin righting the clothing racks with clothes that have been torn down off hangers. If there’s one thing I need to have ready, it’s the items for my job. When the cruise line gets wind of this, I’ll need the income to pay for the damages.
Aaron continues fixing drawers, or trying to, while I hang the set clothes back up. Fortunately, most of them had just been ripped off the hangers, not ripped themselves. The clothes that have been ripped can be repaired and I set them aside to take a look tomorrow. Surely one of my assistants has brought a sewing machine.
We use a small hand broom I’d grabbed from the housekeeping cart to sweep up the glass. An hour later, Aaron is just wiping up the toothpaste smears in the bathroom when I pop my head out the door and see the trolley only a few rooms away. I bring the bag of trash down to the hanging barrel and return all the items to the very confused looking man.
“Someone broke into my room and trashed it,” I explain.
The man’s eyes widen. “Should I inform…”
“No, it’s okay. They didn’t take anything, but they trashed the room. I’ve cleaned up as much of it as I could.”
“But sir!”
“Really, it’s okay. I’m okay. Nothing was taken, and I just want to go to my room and sleep now, okay? I’ll report the break in tomorrow morning and find out what I have to pay in restitution. Can you just have someone vacuum the rug tomorrow though? There was broken glass and I’ve swept it up, but there’s probably shards wedged into the carpet.”
I don’t give him a chance to answer, but instead turn around and walk back to the room shutting the door firmly behind me. I wait a minute, expecting the man to knock. When he doesn’t, I turn the lock and glare at Aaron.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that this wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know damn well what I mean. I’m tired, I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the couch.”
I walk past him and he looks like he’s going to argue, but I hold up my hand. In addition to being exhausted and worried the perp might come back, I’m anxious about David and the way I left things with him. Flopping on the bed, I pull my phone out of my pants, setting an alarm. I close my eyes, feeling the ache in my balls that I’d been trying not to dwell on since I got back. I hear Aaron rustling around behind me, trying to ge
t comfortable on the couch. He seems to know he’s pushed me too far today, although no doubt he’ll be back to being a pain in my ass tomorrow. The problem is, there’s nothing I can do about my current condition below the belt with him less than ten feet away.
Images of David panting and wrapping his legs around my waist pop into my head. I grit my teeth and turn my face into my pillow as the eroticism kicks me below the belt again. My fingers curl into the mattress as I try to block the images of what it felt like having his dick rubbing up against mine, but it’s like trying to tell a kid not to think of candy on Halloween. David’s my sugar rush and I’m jonesing hardcore. I sigh into my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut. There’s nothing to be done about it now. Exhaustion from denial, anxiety, and work all weigh heavily on me, and before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep.
The lights flicker in the hallway as I walk back to David’s room. I have to apologize for the way I acted. Just running out on him like that was not mature. I need to be an adult about this. I keep thinking of all of the things I need to say. I need to make him understand that I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just, so many people have hurt and used me for so long, I don’t know who’s genuine anymore.
When I reach his door, I pause, wondering if he’ll even answer when I knock. I run my fingers through my hair. It’s been a long day and I haven’t showered or changed out of my rumpled clothes. He’s going to think I look like a bum. Maybe he doesn’t care. He was just as disheveled when I left him. I hear a thump on the other side of the door and a muffled cry.
“David?” I pound on the door, not caring if I wake up anyone else in the hallway. “David, are you alright?”
I hear another thump and then a crash. I try to open the door, but it’s locked. Something is very wrong in that room. “David!” I slam my shoulder into the door and the latch busts. I tumble into the room just as I see the tall figure of a man shoving David towards the bathroom.
“Hey!” I shout. The man looks up, but his face is masked. His dark clothing makes him look like part of the shadows of the room. David looks terrified, but the distraction of my entrance is enough to buy him some time. David kicks the perpetrator in the shins and starts running toward me.
“David!” I scream again, but it’s too late. The man in the mask pulls something from behind his waist. The glinting metal in the moonlight streaming through the window is enough for me to know what it is.
“Gun!” I scream, but David is already running toward me. I leap, grabbing for David to tackle him to the floor, just as the blast goes off like thunder in the room.
David lands heavily on top of me on the floor and I stare up into his face.
“David?” His white hat falls off his head and rolls across the floor.
I wake up with a start and a shout, sitting up in bed panting, a cold sweat dripping down my body. Aaron grunts from the couch and rolls over. Looking at the clock on my phone, and then toward the pale morning glow of the dawn light, I feel the weight begin to lessen. It was a dream. Just a dream, right?
13
David Andrews
I lie on my bed, breathing hard, as tears creep into the corner of my eyes. Wiping at them with the back of my hand I try to contain the sob of frustration as my body throbs with arousal. Had I done something wrong? Why did he reject me again? The sting of the rebuff from the hallway is still fresh in my mind. Why was Alex toying with me like this? I’d been prepared to apologize for my part in the whole misunderstanding, but this time it goes beyond anything I think I might have done wrong.
One glance down my body shows the bulge in my pants, straining to get out. I wanted him, desperately needed him to touch me. I wanted to feel the squeeze of his palm when he wrapped his hand around me. I needed to feel the ache, running so deep, ease when he wrapped his mouth around the sensitive flesh like he did at the nightclub. Skin to skin. I’d give anything if he had just let me slip my fingers around him. He couldn’t deny he’d been aroused too. Or would he? I consider getting up and going to look for him to demand an explanation. No one is going to stop me from making my way around the ship. As the chief of productions, they would expect me to go anywhere I want and speak to whomever I need to.
The thing is, I have no desire to get up right now. I slide my palm down my chest, feeling the burn of anticipation the closer I get to my waist. My fingers are trembling as they skim the soft skin just below my belly button, and I close them, trying to squeeze the hesitancy out of my hands, all the while feeling the swell from my dick. This is miserable. There’s no way I can get up and go anywhere or think clearly in this state. I make the dive and pop the button. I’ve masturbated before, but this just feels desperate.
Wrapping my palm around my cock, after pushing my pants and boxers down on my hips, I gasp feeling the pulsing veins under my fingers. My mind is torn between satisfaction and irritation. It feels so good, but at the same time, it isn’t enough. It should have been Alex! The fact that my mind has come back around to him and he isn’t here to help me out angers me. It doesn’t take long to work myself over, but it’s hollow and unsatisfactory despite the need to come.
As I clean myself up I storm around the bedroom, annoyed that Alex keeps stealing moments with me. Making time and then pulling away. Now he’s stolen this from me too. It’s not fair! I work myself into such a state that before I know it, I’m marching down the hall, thinking of all of the things I’m going to say about how he can’t keep leading me on like this.
It doesn’t take long before I pass a very confused looking housekeeper. The older gentlemen looks completely bewildered, like he’s seen too many people out and about. It makes me wonder who else is prowling around at this hour.
I round the corner and stand in front of Alex’s door. I’m about to knock and demand answers and explanations when I hear angry voices inside. What is going on? Is Alex seeing someone else? Had they caught him coming back from my cabin? Straining my ears, I try to make out what they’re saying.
“Where were you?” the reply is muffled, followed by banging around. It’s all I need to hear, really. That accusatory question often posed by a jilted lover. Deciding not to knock on the door, I pause, not wanting to interrupt whatever altercation is going on in there. It’s no use. I don’t need this kind of drama tonight. Bone weary, I make my way back to my cabin and crash once I get into bed.
The next morning, I wake early and shower, still feeling the weight of last night and everything that happened. It’s a long trudge to the dining room, where the bartender who served me the drink with Jake the other night is now acting as the concierge and seating everyone per their requested locations.
“Perhaps you’d like to sit out on the balcony, sir? You look as if you’ve had a rough night.”
I look up into his face and he’s smiling kindly. “That would be really nice, thank you.”
He guides me to the door at the far end of the dining room, and I find a corner table for two just under the awning. I watch the ocean cast glittering white caps across the horizon. The weather has been absolutely stunning since we set sail. If only the clouds hanging over my mood would lift, I’d feel a lot better.
Deciding on a simple breakfast with orange juice, I hope the vitamin C will perk me up. My stomach drops when I look through the glass doors into the dining room and see Alex walk in, looking as exhausted as I feel. He sits in the opposite corner from me and it’s hard to see him, but knowing he’s there is enough to turn my stomach in knots.
When the waitress brings my food, I look at the eggs sitting on the plate. The cheerful yellow yolks cooked sunny side up seem to congeal on my plate, although I know it’s only because I’ve lost my appetite. I force my orange juice down along with a few bites of toast.
The waitress looks puzzled when she comes over. “Was there something wrong with the eggs, sir?”
“No, no, I’m just not feeling well today.”
Gathering my production notes and briefcase and pulling my hat low ove
r my eyes, I enter the dining room and walk to the door, keeping my eyes fixed on it, but I can feel Alex watching me the entire time.
How am I going to work with him for another day? We’ve got the shoots today and then it’s a wrap. Leaving things like this with Alex is not right, but what am I going to say to him? I busy myself with setting up, although the crew has already been on the job for a couple of hours now, and there’s not much to do except wait for the models and actors to arrive.
I can practically feel when Alex walks in the room, sensing his eyes on me while I’m talking to Jake. Jake is pleased with the amount of progress we made on the shoots last night, and if we do well this morning and this afternoon, we might be able to call it a wrap and have an early evening to relax for the rest of the cruise.
“Places, people!” I call.
I see Alex move to the right side of the stage. It seems strange that he’s missing a couple of racks of clothing, and his assistants have been running around with various pieces all morning, but the models turn out in what was agreed on so I turn my attention to the actors who were shooting for the promo yesterday. The stud is a type I’ve worked with before. I know his type and I know that as long as I make him think he’s the one to come up with a brilliant photo idea, then he will go along with whatever I need him to do. He’s clearly hungover, though, and we have to keep stopping so he can run for the bathroom and then have his makeup reapplied. Today’s shoot features more than him, so I opt for getting him out of the way and then begin working with the other talent. The guy from last night who isn’t so full of himself is a promising actor, and I make a mental note to pass his name along my connections when I get off the ship tomorrow.
Cruising For Trouble: A M/M Contemporary Romance Page 8
