by Gabi Moore
“Mmm…”
“Was that good?” I said and twirled my hips against her, still deep inside.
“Uh huh,” she said, nibbled her lower lip and then started grinding again.
“You wanna keep going?”
“Uh huh.”
I could feel myself going limp inside her, but I picked up the pace and drove the tip of my cock deep up and into her. I felt the shudder as it travelled down her spine. Perching up on the balls of her feet, she spread her hands wide over my chest and balanced there, lowering just a few inches at a time down onto me again, stroking my cock with each up thrust and sliding slowly back down onto it again. It was hot. She was hot. But it just wasn’t working.
“Baby? You OK?” she said, and glanced down.
I grabbed her and pulled her off. Asking like that, with that particular tone of voice, totally killed the mood, but looking down at me like I was some injured puppy really sealed the deal.
“I’m good, I’m fine, just tired,” I said, and guided her to lay next to me. My hands slipped between her thighs again, hoping at least another orgasm for her would take the attention off of me. She had a concerned little frown on her face, and reached out her hand to stroke my brow. Now that was what I found the most infuriating of all. Not that my cock chose the worst possible times to stop working. Not the agonizing stress of it all. But the pity. I gently pushed her hand away.
“Just tired baby, really,” I said and pushed a smile. She smiled back and tried to act casual.
“What about you though?” I said and tried to glide my fingers back over that now juicy spot between her legs.
She shrugged.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’m good” she said and curled up against me. “That was nice though,” she said. For some reason, those words seemed to burn the most. I said nothing. After a few moments, she sighed loudly and got up, smoothed her hair out and rummaged around for her underwear. She was just going to put it all back on again. Without even taking a shower. The same bra and panties she had just been wearing.
“Shall we head out?” she said with a simple smile. “I’ll just get my shoes.”
I watched as she flitted around the room with this and that. I made a mental note to complain about the size of this room to management later. That the bathroom was no way what the online photos suggested it would be. And that the tiny little round window was actually in the worst possible position, just sitting stupidly right over the bed; why would anybody design a room like that? And then have the nerve to call it ‘luxury’ and charge a fortune to stay in it?
“Ellie, I’m going to hang back a little, OK? I’m kind of beat.”
She turned around and glared at me, one earring still in hand.
“But you said you’d come.”
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling it.”
“And the salsa?”
“Yeah, I’ll join you later, baby. Maybe I just need a quick nap or something…”
She didn’t do much to hide her disappointment. In fact, her face was rapidly losing its glow.
“Oh please, you’re not going to come later,” she said, slumping. And just like that the spell of our brand new vacation probation was over. It always came down to this: she wanted to go this way; I wanted to go that way.
“What? Of course I will. I’ll join you later. You just head out and take a took around and--”
“You’re just stalling. If you don’t want to come, don’t. Nobody’s forcing you,” she said and stabbed in her earring.
“Ellie, please let’s not fight…” I said, and threw my hand over to cover my eyes. At least the damn bed was comfortable; I’d give them that.
“I’m done fighting,” she snapped. “But I don’t want you to come if you don’t want to come. Just forget it. I’ll go alone.”
I groaned. We hadn’t even spent 24 hours on this stupid holiday yet and we were already bickering.
She quickly blustered out the entrance and closed it behind her. It made a soft pffft as the air cylinder on top let the heavy door fall back into place slowly.
I had decided. The room wasn’t romantic or adventuresome. It was cheap. It was tacky. I looked at the mess on the floor with a sigh. Ellie’s things, strewn all over. I knelt down and started to unpack her things for her, and carefully order them in the cupboard, next to mine.
Chapter 2 - Ellie
I stormed up and down the decks for a while. Every time we had an argument like this, things became clearer and clearer to me. It was hard to pin down at first. Hard to even notice. But I was beginning to finally understand.
It’s not that Anthony was super responsible and serious. It’s not just that I was used to high excitement and he was the more sober, more rational, more sane one of us and I just needed to adjust. It wasn’t even because of his anxiety. No. As I stomped up and down those boards outside under the open, fading blue of the sky, the fact was inescapable: it was because Anthony and I didn’t please one another. That and the fact that he was a controlling bully.
I reached the far end of the deck and turned around to do another lap after glancing at the sky. It was easy to see night coming on here, floating far out in the open sea. The long horizon was still packed with bunched clouds, but high overhead it was clear and starting to darken to deep blue. The first year I met Anthony, I didn’t notice how much work it was to simply enjoy his company. All of the second year, I felt like we were waiting for him to finish studying for the bar exam until we were allowed to have fun. The third year, we had learnt to schedule the pleasurable activities in on a shared calendar.
And now we were here. He probably thought that he could just optimize by giving me one good holiday every few years so I’d shut up about our relationship the rest of the time. That it would make me forget about all the other little things. The passive aggressive curfew on week nights. Him helpfully suggesting I give up eating carbs every three months. The hidden camera in our home that he claimed was for my ‘safety’.
I crossed my arms against the growing chill and walked on. In a few hours, the place would be buzzing with parties. I was here on this ‘pleasure cruise’ and my fiancée was taking a nap from the sheer effort of forcing himself to sleep with me.
I tried to ignore the smiling waiters standing outside a freshly laid out buffet on the beck below ours. I tried to claw onto the remnants of the good mood I had boarded with, but the more I walked on, the more my mood soured. I’d just stay out all night, that’s what. I’d stay out until I felt like a living human being again, till I was sure I at least had a pulse again.
I turned around and paced back again and fumed some more.
It wasn’t just about the sex, no matter what he said. He always tried to bring it down to that. To shut down everything because he honestly thought that I cared about him not getting it up once in a while as much as he did. It didn’t matter how many times I’d tell him that none of that bothered me at all, he still sulked. It was all so exhausting. I was exhausted.
And I was bored.
I reached into my handbag and pulled out a secret cigarette. Pleased it hadn’t been crushed on transit, I placed it on my lower lip and thought for a moment. Then I lit it, took a long, easy drag and blew the smoke out into the darkness. The agreement was that he would try to enjoy himself with me, just for once, and that he forget about work for a second, and just be with me. And in return I wouldn’t smoke or embarrass us both or get into one of my ‘moods’. Well, if he wasn’t going to honor his part of the deal, then why should I honor mine?
I took another drag.
Just as I was about to blow another band of smoke, something knocked me hard from behind and sent me staggering forward and bumping clumsy onto the railings. I watched as my cigarette flipped free of my fingers and went floating silently down into the darkness below.
Damn. I spun to see a wincing face peeking off the railings with me.
“What the hell?” I shouted.
“Aw shit, I’
m so sorry!” he said. He was a young guy, maybe just a few years younger than me, and he was standing in front of me, his hands outstretched in apology. He had closely cropped hair and was wearing dark jeans and a tight black shirt rolled up over his biceps. He was so tall I needed to lift my gaze form the center of his chest to look him square in the eye. He immediately went over to the railings and peered over with a look of horror on his face.
“Man overboard, huh?” he said.
He looked kind of rough. A little dangerous. Maybe even drunk. When he lifted his face to mine again, I could see that his eyes were an icy cold blue. Clean looking, even. The only part of him that looked clean, mind you.
“That was my last cigarette, you know,” I said drily, and folded my arms across my chest again. He turned around to look at me apologetically, but with that stupid smile still playing on his lips. He put his hand to his heart.
“Honest mistake ma’am, really, I’m sorry. I feel your loss.” Then he started patting down his pockets but flashed me another sheepish smile. “Seems I’ve left my own back inside. Can I fetch you another? Will you just… OK, you wait here and I’ll go back in and get you another cigarette and then we’ll be even, OK?”
I found it hard to share his excitement. He took one look at my grumpy face, licked his lower lip and smiled as though he had come up with the most amazing plan ever.
“OK, OK, fine, two cigarettes, but that’s my final offer,” he said and grinned.
Yup, definitely drunk.
I waved him off.
“It’s OK, really. I need to quit smoking anyway. It’s a filthy habit.”
His eyes twinkled.
“Well, of course it is, aren’t all the best habits?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He smiled. He was clearly a brute, a big stupid bro, already tipsy so early in the evening …but he was kind of good looking.
“Look, you can quit anytime, right? Quit later. You’re basically owed one cigarette anyway, so quit after one more. Makes sense. In fact, it’ll be my honor to know that the last cigarette you had on this earth was mine.”
He had his hand on his heart again. He was the kind of guy you bump into on the dance floor in a club. The guy wearing too much cologne, talking too loudly, and dancing too close. But he was cute. A little sketchy, but cute.
“Last two, you mean,” I said with a shy smile.
“Two, yeah, absolutely,” he said and returned the smile.
“OK, fine.”
There was something contagious about his smile, which was irritating since I had already decided that Anthony had ruined my whole evening.
“OK! You wait here, don’t go anywhere. Look, I’ll leave my ice bucket with you as a guarantee.”
“Your…?”
“My ice bucket,” he said and suddenly brandished a small steel cup of ice cubes at me. I hadn’t noticed when he set it behind him after he bumped into me. He thrust it into my hands with mock seriousness and I took it.
“But …why …let me just come with you?” I said, and handed the bucket back to him.
He grinned.
“Older ladies are always so forward, I love it,” he said and did that thing with his lips again.
I scoffed.
“Older lady?”
He looked chastised.
“It’s only …aw shit, I said a stupid thing, didn’t I? It’s a party, I don’t think you’d …let’s just say it’s not the place for, uh, for nice women like you,” he said, grin still plastered all over his face.
Though I was trying as hard as I could, it seemed hard to really get mad at him. At worst, he was just some kind of idiot. A hot idiot, but still. I know that I had left my party days behind me. And I know I was about to throw my life away marrying a man who asked me if there was any history of genetic diseases in my family on the second date. But god, was I already in ‘older lady’ territory? He had to be joking. I was 25.
“Well, older ladies like me have seen everything, so don’t worry, I’ll pretend not to be too shocked,” I said, rolled my eyes and turned to walk in the direction he had been running. Would he ever stop smiling? He seemed to hesitate to put his hand on my arm and stop me.
“No, I mean, I’m serious, you can’t come with me,” he said.
I lifted my eyebrows at him. He looked like the naughty, freckled kid at the back of every classroom who pulls on the girls’ pigtails and never does his homework. Except with muscles. And …an ice bucket? So what if I was dead curious about this ‘party’? So what if I was technically here with my fiancée, and that salsa was starting in a few minutes? He was just a guy. And it was just two cigarettes.
He thrust his hand out at me.
“Todd,” he said. “Todd McGregor. Navy SEAL.”
“You’re a Navy SEAL?” I asked, stunned. He was laughing.
“Well …kind of. Almost. I mean, not really. I’m a trainee. We’re actually just on our way to our buds training in Coronado, when we get to California.”
“Buds?”
“Yeah, BUDS. Stands for Basic Underwater Demolition Seal training,” he said, chest puffed.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And a bunch of you are going? You’re having a party?”
He looked coy, but at least we were walking again. I hadn’t semi-flirted with anyone like this in a very, very long time. It felt …strange.
“Yeah, a bunch of us, you could say that. We’re done with the prep school and now it’s the big leagues. Twenty-four weeks of pure hell and if I’m one of the lucky few, I’ll survive and get to do it all over again for my troop training,” he said and smiled warmly.
I had to admit, being a SEAL trainee bumped him up a little in my esteem. Suddenly, the sketchy brush cut hair looked a little less Nazi and a little more clean cut military man.
“So, they’ll be training you to …fight and stuff? Are you going to be running around in combat boots and like, doing obstacle courses?” I said and laughed. I realized too late that I sounded way, way meaner than I intended. He thought for a moment and then smiled easily at me all the same.
“Well honestly, me? Going on my track record? I’ll probably be hiding out and crying in the bathrooms.”
“No way! You look pretty tough to me. I bet you could do all kinds of impressive things.” Here he stopped walking, took a good look at me, gave me a mischievous smile and then carried on.
“Well, the spirit’s willing, but the flesh, you know…” he said and gave me a wink. Butterflies kicked a little in my stomach. Yup. There was absolutely no mistaking that. He was definitely, positively, one hundred percent coming on to me. I could feel blood rush to my face as we approached a large door, behind which some dull, thumping music emanated.
“This is it? Your big secret party?”
The ice cubes rattles in the cup as he held it against his chest and nodded.
“You gonna invite me in or what?”
He looked embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to make eye contact.
“Well …see …hey, I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s Ellie.”
“Just Ellie?”
“Yeah just Ellie. Ellie King.”
“Ok, well, Miss Ellie King, as you can see, notwithstanding the incident with your, uh, your cigarette, you can clearly see that I’m an upstanding civilian and a gentleman, however…” I was giggling at the ridiculous voice he had on, and the way he closed his eyes to enunciate. Oh, he was drunk all right. Maybe even a little more than drunk. “However I can’t claim the same for my comrades who are, shall I say, feeling a little enthusiastic this evening…”
His icy blue eyes glinted in the darkness as the sounds of the cruise ship started to come alive all around us. Night had fallen and the chill in the air had settled.
“Well, fair is fair, buddy. If you make me wait any longer for my two cigarettes, I might just decide to make it three.”
He held his hand over his mouth and pretended to b
e shocked.
“Miss, you do drive a hard bargain.”
“Oh come on, let me in. I’m on vacation, I needed that cigarette, and you owe me a smoke break, fair and square.”
He thought for a while, bit down on his fist and nodded solemnly.
“Can’t argue with that” he said and put his hand on the door handle and paused. All at once, raucous cheers erupted from behind the door followed by peals of male laughter. Intriguing. He waited and tried not to smile as he gave me a stern look, unable to bring himself to open the door.
“I’m warning you …this is not going to be pretty.”
I laughed and reached for the door, and flung it open myself. It didn’t escape my attention that I brushed against him as I walked inside, curious to see just how raucous a party could be that an old hag like myself shouldn’t be allowed to even see it.
It was like those scenes in old Westerns where someone busts open the saloon doors, the honkey tonk stops playing and everyone swivels on their seats to give the newcomer the beady eye. It seemed to be a large, private conference room, done in the same style as all the rooms onboard but roomier, with all the chairs pushed far to the edges of the walls and the lights dimmed. About a dozen tall men, all shirtless, stopped to watch as I entered. The smell of alcohol was thick on the air, and I swear, I could almost smell them, too. I quickly turned to look behind me, and there was Todd, awkward smile still on his face and his hand still on the door.
“Hey, assholes,” he said, and shut the door, sending in a waft of fresh air that cut through the smoke cloud inside. “This is my friend Ellie. Don’t eat her, OK? She just needs some smokes.”
The music was turned back up and I took a few steps toward the crowd, which now parted a little to give me a glimpse of one of them bent over the table, pants pulled down, ass in the air, beer still in his hand. I couldn’t help smiling at the absurdity of the situation.
