Sex, Lies, and Cruising

by Cathryn Chapman

  “Of course,” I said. “No problem.” At least I felt confident about that. I was a vault when it came to others’ secrets. Certainly when they were really important ones, anyway.

  When I returned to the cabin, Caitlin was nowhere to be found. Jacoline poked her head in to see if I wanted to go into town for cocktails, but I declined; I’d promised Jock I’d go to the beach with him and a few of his mates. Glancing at the time, I realised it was later than I’d thought, and dashed around the cabin, throwing things into my beach bag. Jock was waiting for me when I reached the bartenders’ corridor, bag on shoulders, sunnies and swimming trunks on.

  “Oh, sorry, Ellie, the other guys can’t make it,” he said. “They’ve all bailed on me at the last minute. Are you okay to go along anyway?”

  Quite honestly, I wasn’t at all disappointed the others couldn’t join us. It would be nice to spend some time with Jock.

  We went through the disembarkation security check, jumped in a taxi, and drove the fifteen minutes to Coki Beach in record time. A tiny beach, it was famous for snorkelling and for the nearby Coral World Ocean Park.

  We found a spot on the umbrella-sprinkled beach among a throng of sun worshippers. Not really in the mood for water sports, we decided against snorkelling and rented reclining beach chairs and a huge umbrella. We bought ice cold coconut drinks from a little green caravan and sat in the little patch of shade the brolly created.

  Having placed our bags between us, we accidentally grazed hands as we both reached for our sunscreen. “I need to make sure I go home looking like a Greek God, not a spotted lobster,” Jock said, and I laughed in agreement. It was nice to meet a guy with the same concerns. Slathering on a generous layer of sunscreen, he said, “I still haven’t met the new photog you mentioned.”

  “Oh, Cooper?” I said.

  “Aye, that’s him.” Jock settled back and closed his eyes. “Had some fancy background taking bullets for the Queen.”

  I’d never heard him sound so cynical and cutting.

  “He was in the Canadian Protective Policing Service,” I corrected. “Protecting the Governor General, not the Queen. Although he would have looked after the Queen while she was visiting Canada.”

  “Mhmm,” Jock said, doubt dripping from the word. “Of course he did.”

  “Why are you being weird?” I asked, frustrated. “You haven’t even met him yet.”

  I barely even knew Cooper, while I’d got to know Jock fairly well over the last few weeks; I wasn’t really sure why I was defending our new photog. Jock had proven to be both a good guy and a good judge of character, but I was reluctant to hear anything negative said about Cooper, especially after hearing about his fiancée. Maybe Jock was jealous…

  “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he said, opening his eyes and looking over at me. “I’m just jokin’ with you. You got your goat up though, didn’t you, lass? Might you fancy the fella a wee bit?”

  “Pfffft,” I huffed in response. I always seemed to end up trying to avoid talking about my romantic entanglements—or lack thereof—with Jock. I shook my head and changed the topic. “So, what do you want to do with your life? Is bartending a short-term or long-term plan?”

  Unperturbed by the abrupt change of subject, Jock said, “Well, I’d really like to open my own bar. Maybe back at home in Edinburgh, or London. It depends how much I can save during the next few contracts, actually. I love bar work. I love the people you meet…but I don’t love ships. Too transient for me—I like to put down roots, you know what I mean?”

  I did know what he meant. I’d felt like that when I’d moved in with Dan years before. And look how well that had turned out. One minute I was on the verge of marriage and babies, or at least I thought I was, and the next, I was packing my bags and moving in with my parents until I worked out my next move. Not exactly what you expect to happen when you’re twenty-eight, engaged, and in a four-year relationship.

  “And what about you?” he asked, peering at me over his sunglasses. “Any big dreams?”

  “Well, the ultimate dream is to open my own gallery,” I said. “Probably in London. Although truth be told, I’d be happy with just getting an exhibition somewhere, so that people could see my work. I’d love a career with National Geographic. They do the most amazing stuff.” I looked over at him sheepishly. Sometimes when you said your dreams out loud, they sounded foolish, and even though I’d told Cooper, Jock’s opinion seemed much more important.

  Happily, Jock looked genuinely interested. “That sounds fantastic, lass. You should really go for it. I bet you’ve loads of talent.”

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. My cheeks burned at the compliment. Dan used to say every wannabe photographer and his dog wanted to work for National Geographic. I wondered whether to mention that Cooper had said he might be able to hook me up with a friend who worked for the magazine, but decided against it. I didn’t want to make Jock grumpy again.

  “Maybe we should open a gallery with a bar,” Jock said, interrupting my thought. He grinned. “Join our talents together.” He was joking, but I turned the idea over in my head anyway. It was a nice thing to think about. And Jock sounded supportive. More and more I was beginning to think that my dreams might actually be possible.

  I glanced at Jock, wondering if I should throw out another topic of conversation, but he’d settled back, his eyes closed, and I didn’t want to disturb him. Instead, I smiled; I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so still, and he looked somehow different. Younger, maybe. Stiller. More peaceful.

  Realising I’d been staring at him, even if he hadn’t noticed, I dug into my bag for my sunhat. I lay back and put it over my face, letting out my tension with a long breath. The warmth of the sun felt welcome on my skin, and although I was wary about sunburn, I did want to keep working on my gradual tan.

  I could feel my breath slowing down; my eyes were comfortably heavy. I was happily drowning in a sea of relaxation, breathing steadily, listening to the sounds of the people nearby. The still, flat water produced tiny waves as it kissed the sand, making a gentle, lapping sound.

  With my eyes shrouded in darkness under the cover of my hat, I relaxed further, and my ears started to tune out the finer details of their conversations. Soon, their loud, clear chatter blended into a muted drone.

  Floating on a cloud of nonsensical thoughts, I drifted into a comfortable snooze. Did I really get paid to do this every day? I smiled again. I was never going home.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was sorry when the time came to go back to the ship; it was so peaceful lying on the beach with Jock, both chatting and sharing companionable silences. I wasn’t looking forward to manning the shop, but luckily for me the afternoon and evening flew by in a ritual of work, customers, and endless questions.

  As soon as I’d locked up, I bolted for the bar. Jock had a glass of white wine waiting for me by the time I reached him, and I’d just settled in when Caitlin arrived, accompanied by the infamous Gabriel.

  Despite hearing all the sordid details of their sex life, it was my first time meeting him, and I was surprised to see how handsome he was. Tall, broad, dark brown hair, green eyes¸ a long, straight nose…he reeked of masculinity and oozed across the floor like syrup. More than one woman sent an admiring glance his way.

  Caitlin was grinning, leaning into Gabriel and pawing him like a kitten playing with a ball of wool. They’d quite obviously patched things up.

  “Roomie, this is my boyfriend, Gabriel,” Caitlin said, stumbling over her words a bit. Looked like they were already a few drinks into the evening. “Gabriel, this is the bestest and most beautiful cabin-mate in the world, Ellie.”

  “Hi Ellie,” he said, leaning over to kiss my cheek. I thought he was going for a hug and leaned in with my arms open. We bumped cheek to shoulder and ended up with a cross between a back pat and air kiss. Ugh. Gabriel just smiled and added, “I’ve heard so much about you.” He almost sounded American, but not quite, and I couldn’t place the accent.
/>   “Pleased to meet you,” I said. “Where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”

  “Croatia, although we moved to the States when I was twelve,” he replied, his hand still on my upper arm.

  “Great, great,” said Caitlin, pushing her way in between us. She stroked Gabriel’s arm and leaned in to nibble his ear. “Babe, can you go and get me a drink, please? I’m so thirsty.” She grabbed his bum and squeezed it as he walked away.

  Gabriel disappeared into the crowd at the bar, and Caitlin dragged me over to one of the booths. “Oh, roomie, we have had the most awesome day,” she said, with her mouth about an inch from my ear. The music hadn’t been turned up yet, so the volume of Caitlin’s voice made me flinch. She was definitely a little trolleyed.

  Obviously feeling affectionate, she draped her arms around me and put her head on my shoulder.

  “I see you’ve made up,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “Dude, we did more than just make up,” she said. “We bumped into this Aussie chick, Jane, from the casino. She’s having a fling with another casino guy, Jacob, who Gabriel knows from a previous contract. Jane is so nice, you know, really pretty, black hair, big boobs.” She gestured to indicate the size of Jane’s bust. “I mean, you know me, no boobs whatsoever.” She looked down at her chest, which was, in fact, more or less as flat as an ironing board, and pouted. Then she laughed and shoved me hard with her shoulder.

  “Ouch!” I exclaimed, rubbing my arm.

  “Haha, sorry, dude, I can kiss it better,” she said, leaning in with her lips pursed.

  “No, thanks,” I replied, swatting her away playfully. I nudged her back. “Continue with the story, woman!”

  A quick glance told us that Gabriel was deep in conversation with Jock and showed no signs of imminent return, so Caitlin launched into the story at breakneck feed, unable to get the juicy details out fast enough. “Anyway, I clicked with her straight away. I heard on the grapevine that she likes a bit of girl action sometimes. So she’s with Jacob, right, and he is totally hot, too. I mean, together, they’re like fucking Ken and Barbie. So we saw her up on deck, and Gabriel invited her to bring Jacob to his cabin for brunch drinks. We started playing this crazy drinking game, and got totally hosed in like an hour.”

  Caitlin’s voice kept getting louder; as she was completely blotto, she completely didn’t notice, and just laughed off my attempts to shush her.

  “Anyway, so Jane was flirting with Gabriel big time,” she continued. “Well, actually, she was flirting with both of us. Then Jacob started paying me compliments, and, well…” She giggled and cast me a sideways glance. “Just me and Jane got it on at first. Fuck, she’s hot. She just leant in and kissed me—just like that. Her lips were so soft, and her tongue kept darting in and out, like she was tasting an ice cream… Fuuuuck.” Caitlin shuddered.

  “I almost felt like I was in a dream, you know? I mean, I’ve been with girls before, but this felt so much damn better. It was also way dirtier though…” She smiled wickedly before continuing. “The boys had been playing with themselves, watching us, and they were definitely up and ready. They practically pushed us onto the bottom bunk…so we both knelt down, and they were standing behind us…then we’d swap, then they’d swap…it was so bad, but in a good way.” Caitlin couldn’t stop giggling, her shoulders shaking; she was obviously still high from the experience.

  I was completely hooked in, and could feel a familiar little tug of excitement between my upper thighs. I was suddenly finding it hard to remember why I’d sworn off men a few weeks earlier. And actually, if I was honest with myself, I was surprised at my reaction—I’d never had any interest whatsoever in girl-on-girl action, much less group sex, and here I was practically drooling as Caitlin described all of the intimate details. I’d always thought that it would be so peculiar; sex on its own could be embarrassing enough, so imagine the potential embarrassment when you started pulling in more people! But the way Caitlin talked about it, it didn’t really seem all that weird at all—just a different way of having fun—more fun than was possible with one partner.

  I’d arrived on board keen to experiment, but I’d not expected to find myself wondering what it would be like to tangle limbs with another girl or to experience group sex. Now I was tentatively wondering if maybe I’d been missing out…

  As Caitlin continued her blow-by-blow account, I realised I was getting even more turned on. I was pretty sure that if someone had tried to tell me about their sexual experiences—multiple positions (most of which I’d never heard of, much less considered), multiple partners (at the same time!), chair straddling, neck devouring—even six months ago that I’d have been so embarrassed I probably would have fled the room and avoided ever seeing the person again. Now, though… Okay, so I was still shocked by quite a lot of what Caitlin described, but I wasn’t feeling any desire to flee. No, the desire I felt was of a very different kind…

  It took me ages to find my voice again. “Wow,” I managed at last. I licked my lips, hesitated, and then added, “I might go for a threesome, but I’d feel weird swapping juices.”

  Caitlin looked shocked for a moment, probably at the fact I said I’d be open to a threesome. I was surprised myself; it wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d consider, much less admit to someone else. But Caitlin’s story had really turned me on, and now I couldn’t help but wonder.

  Caitlin’s mouth opened and closed, making her look a bit like a fish, and then she took a deep breath and shrugged. “Thinking about it, yeah, I guess it seems pretty wild, but once you’re in there, doing it, it doesn’t even cross your mind,” she said, completely unperturbed. I’d have to take her word for it, as I didn’t think I was really quite ready to jump into the deep end just yet. Caitlin smiled happily and added, “Yep, it was a great fucking day.”

  A great fucking day indeed.

  At that moment, Gabriel tapped Caitlin on the shoulder and handed her a tall drink with two straws, an umbrella, and a strawberry on a swizzle stick hanging out the top. Caitlin grabbed the drink, threw the decoration onto the floor, and slammed down the brown liquid. “Ahhhhhhh,” she exclaimed, smacking her lips. “What was that?”

  “A Long Island Iced Tea, beautiful,” he said. “You’re supposed to drink them slowly.”

  Caitlin shrugged, grabbed his hand, and pulled him onto the dance floor. Within moments they were locked in their own little world, oblivious to onlookers; Caitlin twined herself around Gabriel sinuously, reminding me of a cat. He watched her hungrily, his hands roaming over her body, and then, leaving one hand drifting down her back, he captured her face with the other and lowered his mouth to hers. The longer I watched the more intimate they got, until really, my face should have been absolutely flaming in embarrassment.

  “Get a room!” someone shouted.

  They were like a car accident: you didn’t want to see, but couldn’t tear your eyes away. In the past, I’d always been so careful to avoid watching people engaging in PDA; Dan had always found it disgusting and I’d picked up the habit of being embarrassed by others’ actions from him. Then again, he hadn’t even liked to hold my hand in public. He’d have died of horror at the show Caitlin and Gabriel were putting on; I found it exhilarating. I wasn’t sure when I’d become such a voyeur, but I mentally filed it away as an interest to pursue later.

  I had been so engrossed in Caitlin and Gabriel I hadn’t noticed the bar filling up with all the usual suspects. Waitresses flirted with personal trainers and youth staff, while lots of short, skinny Filipino guys sat huddled close together, downing beers and playing cards. Nobody seemed the least bit interested in the show Caitlin and Gabriel were putting on.

  Except Maria.

  She was standing against the opposite wall, staring at the two figures passionately entwined in the centre of the room. Her expression was a mixture of sad and stormy, and her hand was frozen in mid-air, clutching a Mexican beer so tightly her knuckles were white. There was something else, though,
beneath the sadness and anger—a hint of vulnerability, maybe, though the Brazilian Bitch was the last person I’d have ever expected to feel vulnerable.

  Obviously unable to bear watching them anymore, Maria spun around and practically ran to the bar. I stared after her, wondering what she could be thinking. If I were honest, I was hoping Caitlin had managed to spoil Maria’s designs on Gabriel, and that now she was jealous and hurt and about to go into a decline. I’d love Caitlin to give Maria her comeuppance. But that look on her face bothered me. It had shown me a side of Maria that I’d have preferred to continue thinking didn’t exist.

  Somebody tapped me on the shoulder. “Howdy. How’re you doing?” a familiar voice said.

  I turned to find Cooper standing over me, a big smile on his face, and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed before that he had a really lovely smile. “Hey, you,” I said.

  He looked past me and let out a long whistle. “Wow, that’s quite a show they’re putting on, hey?”

  I followed his gaze. “Yeah,” I said. I felt my heart skip a little beat and a smile cross my face, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if it had been caused by Caitlin and Gabriel, or by Cooper. It was nice to smile, for any reason; my face had felt like it had been frozen in a dumbfounded expression for the past half an hour. It was surprisingly good to see Cooper, in any case.

  “Want a drink?”

  I declined, and pretended I wasn’t that interested in watching the floor show anymore as he sauntered over to the bar. When he hadn’t returned a few minutes later, I glanced at the bar to see that Cooper and Jock were both standing rather stiffly, their jaws set and annoyed looks on their faces. I walked up just in time to hear Jock’s question.

  “So, they let you into the RMP with those thick glasses, mate?” he asked, polishing a glass with great force.

  “Yeah, of course,” said Cooper, shrugging.

  “Hmmm,” Jock said noncommittally. “That’s really interesting, mate. My old cabin mate was Canadian. Thing is, he was rejected from the police force because he wore thick glasses similar to yours.” He mirrored Cooper’s shrug and added, “Something about a minimum vision requirement…?”