Cruising for Trouble

by Alexander, Romeo

  “You aren’t from around here, are you?” the man asks, casually leaning his hip against the bar.

  I look down the length of him and wonder if he’s just as aroused as I am. I figure I can’t continue to not answer the guy, that would be rude. I glance away quickly in hopes that he hasn’t caught me checking him out. It seems wrong, somehow, to do that.

  “Fort Lauderdale,” I croak. I clear my throat and take a sip of my drink. I try to think of anything else besides the man standing next to me. I swish the liquid around in my glass.

  “It’s nice to see someone who’s a little more old school on the threads,” the stranger comments.

  I frown, realizing he is talking about me. I hadn’t given much thought to my own suit and tie, but I’ve always felt first impressions meant a lot.

  “Thanks. They go with my hat,” this must have been the stupidest thing to ever come out of my mouth. I touch the brim gently and the man’s smile deepens.

  “I like the hat too. It distinguishes you.”

  I smile, unable to help myself. The next instant, someone bumps into my left side, sending me toppling off my bar stool, and my drink spills all across the top of the bar.

  “Hey, watch it!” I turn to the two men who are fooling around.

  “Let’s get you another drink and find somewhere a little less crowded to sit. I think there’s a table up on the balcony in the back. It’s dark and offers more privacy. You might be a little more comfortable there.”

  I nod in agreement and the bartender, already wiping up the drink and nodding to the bouncers to haul the two men out, is quick to pour me another one. I watch the back of the man as we walk towards the chrome and glass stairs, through and around gyrating bodies. The scent of musk and cologne hangs in the air like a curtain, and I’m pleased the table we find in the back is dark and within direct shot of the air conditioner. It offers a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere. I sit on the bench and face the crowd below us. The benches are partitioned off by heavy curtains, offering privacy, but with a view of the dance floor. The man sits next to me and he’s so close I can feel the press of his arm on my shoulder.

  I reach over and place my drink on the table at the end of the cushioned bench, and when I sit back up straight and turn, I meet the soft lips of the man. I gasp in surprise and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in my mouth. I can feel my body, rigid with tension, begin to shake, as I have no idea what to do with myself.

  This man is kissing me. He’s actually…oh, God! His tongue starts to glide in and out, in and out, massaging my own, and my only thought is that he’s mimicking the act of sex with his mouth. I can feel my dick harden until I’m fully erect. Where it was throbbing before, there is an ache now that’s not going to go away unless it’s taken care of, and I moan in frustration. I’ve never kissed a man before. I’ve never reacted like this to a real man, not just some porn star on a screen. I feel my cheeks flush. Can he tell I’ve watched gay porn? I delete it from my computer, if anyone found out…

  All thoughts flee my mind when I feel the weight of his palm on my thigh. I pull my head back and he presses his forehead to mine, causing my hat to tip back on my head. Can anyone see us up here? The floor is solid, but the banister across the way is glass and chrome. What if they look up? I whimper, unable to help myself because I’m so torn. I should get up and go wait at the bar, but he tastes so good, like peppermint. I feel his hand kneading my thigh and it’s doing nothing to ebb the lust wracking my body.

  “Is this okay?” he whispers.

  I try to tell him something, anything. But what? Should I tell him to stop? Should I tell him, unless he plans to do something about the issue in my pants that it most certainly won’t be okay? Should I tell him I’m gay, straight, bi…or what? I don’t know. I groan and drop my head to his shoulder, trying to hide my face. What if he can read my reactions and knows how conflicted I am?

  When his fingers brush up against the underside of my dick, I feel my balls tighten and I shiver, lifting my hips from the bench. He seems to take that as some sort of sign, because before I know it, he’s on the floor in front of me, his face level with my cock. He looks up once into my shocked face and asks again if it’s okay, and before I have a chance to properly think about a response, he’s unbuttoned my slacks and freed my cock from my pants. His warm grip finds the base of my cock and instinctively, I reach out and grip his shoulders. I look around, dazed and unfocused, but aware we could be caught at any moment. No one from the dance floor seems to be looking at us, and I turn my attention back to him because the feeling of his hot breath on the tip of my dick is enough to drive me crazy. I can’t remember the last time…I jerk as his wet mouth engulfs me and I let go of one of his shoulders to bite my knuckles in an attempt to keep from making any noise.

  I feel his mouth slide up and down. The pressure becomes so intense when he stops to lick around the rim of my dick, I want to scream and beg him not to stop. He continues to tease me for another moment, and then my eyes roll back in my head when he sucks me into his mouth again. I watch as his head bobs up and down and I feel his fingers brush up against my balls.

  I try to widen my legs further, but my pants are restricting my movements and I can feel him smile with his mouth full of my dick. He’s enjoying feeling and watching me squirm and I can’t take the pressure of his palm at the base of me anymore.

  It’s been so long, I’m afraid he’ll be upset, but I just can’t hold on any longer. I grab the back of his head, pushing his head down as I start to come. He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact it makes him suck harder, with longer pulls, and I can’t hold back the shout I’ve been containing. It’s drowned out by the din of the music and the club, but I empty myself into his mouth, and he laps it up eagerly. My head is swimming and I begin to twitch. When he’s done sucking me dry, he hastily tucks me back into my pants and zips me up.

  He sits down next to me again and finishes his drink, and I’m just beginning to wonder if he expects me to reciprocate when I spot Jake walk into the club below. I stand and wobble a little as the euphoric feeling and alcohol rush to my head. I make an excuse. “My business partner just arrived,” then turn and make a hasty retreat down to the lower level.

  I have no idea if the man follows me, but when I reach Jake, I tell him I want to go to a different club. I give him the excuse of the two rowdy guys from earlier having upset me. He takes me down the street to the next club, where we have drinks and talk about the cruise, and for the rest of the night I can’t get the image of the stranger with his lips wrapped around my cock out of my head. Jake asks what’s wrong, but I shrug him off and tell him I had too much to drink.

  The next morning, I wake up late and have to rush down the pier to get to the boat where I find an anxious Jake waiting for me in Conference Room Two.

  “Are you okay?” his eyes are full of concern and I nod.

  “So sorry I’m late, I shouldn’t have stayed out so late in the party scene last night. I don’t usually go out and drink.”

  “Maybe you should let loose every once in a while. Might do you some good, David, and you never know who you might meet.”

  Does he know? Could he tell what I’d done last night? I blush but nod, not revealing anything from the night before. “Speaking of meetings, is the crew here so I can introduce myself? Will you be giving an introduction to the project?”

  Jake looks at me for a moment, but then nods. “Yes, here they are now,” he points to two people walking in the door. One is a black woman in her mid-twenties, dressed to the nines. She must be the makeup and hair artist, judging by the cases she’s carrying. The other is the clothing stylist, and my stomach begins churning as I realize, when I look into his vivid green eyes, that he’s the same man who blew me in the club last night. I feel like I’m going to be sick as the realization dawns on his face and he recognizes me too.

  3

  Alex Keys

  “David, I’d like you to meet, Alayah Collin
s, our hair and makeup stylist. She’ll be on hand for any of the guests to utilize her services on the cruise. She will also personally be styling the couples who are being spotlight recorded for the promo vid.”

  I watch as the man I seduced in the club shakes Alayah’s hand. He tips his white hat to her and she smiles, a vision of perfection as she says hello. When the two men turn to me, the man in the white hate doesn’t even look at me.

  “Hello, I am Jake Victor, the entrepreneur of this business venture. This is my long-time friend, David Andrews, who will be producing the promotional video. David, this is our clothing stylist, Alex Keys.”

  “Hello,” I stick out my hand and David just looks at it. The tension in the room is palpable and Alayah and Jake look at each another as David shakes my hand for less than a second, then turns away. This has got to be one of the most awkward introductions I have ever been through. It means having to work for this man for the next three days, trapped on a cruise ship with no escape, is going to be a nightmare at best. At worst, it’s going to mar my reputation in the industry if David decides to blow the whistle on our little tryst. I can feel my skin break into a sweat and I clench my jaw as David smiles at Alayah again.

  “Right. Well, why don’t the two of you go ahead and find your cabins, and take half an hour to settle in, then we’ll meet deck side to hold a meeting with the rest of the crew and the wait staff,” Jake smiles although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s looking between David and me, clearly picking up on the tension there.

  I nod without saying another word before picking up Alayah’s bag and walking out the door. I can feel the lump in my throat. I don’t cry often, but this mess could potentially be a disaster if word gets around, and Jake already senses the tension in the air. He’s going to want a smooth sailing cruise and as a personal friend of the producer, my money is on him siding with David if it comes down to a battle of reputations. Of course he’ll side with the man doing the promo vid. There are plenty of other stylists in the industry. They could fly out to the helipad if things with me and David go south.

  But what really bothers me is that I thought David had been okay with what happened last night. He’d certainly seemed to enjoy himself. I figured when he took off in a hurry he was a little scared, and that was fine. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. It’s tough coming out and even tougher accepting yourself, never mind the rest of the world. If David is still in the closet, I totally get it. There’s just one thing I don’t handle well and that’s being publicly shunned and shamed. By snubbing me, he’s done just that, and it hurts.

  I bang through the corridors in a mood. I can’t help it. When my temper gets going, I don’t want to be around anyone.

  We finally make it below deck. I find my cabin and Alayah’s is right next to mine. She’d been following me silently, but I have the feeling I’m about to get the third degree, so I gesture for her to enter her room and follow in after. It’s a simple cabin, beige and tan, with navy blue accents, the nicer ones having been reserved for the guests. I figure mine is a mirror image. There’s a private bathroom and a sizeable bed with a desk and chair tucked into the corner. Second class cabin, I’d wager.

  I set Alayah’s bag on the floor and exit while she’s checking out her bathroom to open my room. My assumption was right, it’s the mirror image of her cabin, only my color scheme is brown and green. I set my bag down on the chair and flop onto my back on the bed. I throw an arm over my eyes and try to erase the image of David on that bench last night, thrusting his hips up toward my mouth, and it only causes my dick to go semi hard. It’s going to be a long three days if I can’t get that encounter out of my head. I groan and hear the door creak open.

  I peek out from under my arm and then let it fall back into place. “Now is not a good time, Alayah.”

  “No, I imagine it isn’t. You and the producer have history, which means it isn’t going to be a good time this whole cruise,” she’s so perceptive.

  I sigh and sit up. “You can’t let it get around. The entrepreneur already suspects. I could see it in his eyes. He’s been in the scene for a while. Probably knows David is gay, even if David doesn’t. We hooked up at a club last night.”

  “Damn it, Alex!”

  I stand and begin pacing. “How the hell was I supposed to know, Alayah? I mean we hooked up, no strings attached, and it wasn’t even a full hook up. I went down town, and he freaked and bolted.”

  “This is going to be a train wreck,” she flips her hair, crosses one leg over the other, and drums her fingers on my desk. The sound is deafening, and the bright, cheery color of her nails is irritating me.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “So what are you going to do?” she asks.

  “My job. I’m a professional. I’ve been in this business over ten years and I am not going to let one little tryst ruin it. But you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

  I look at her solemnly and she looks affronted. “Alex Keys, there has never been a time where you’ve had to call my loyalty into question, so boy let me tell you that you better not start doing it now!” she stands, pointing one of those bright fingernails at me, and I gulp and nod. They aren’t so cheery anymore.

  “I’m sorry, Alayah. I’m just…”

  “You’re hurt.”

  I glance away. She’s so close to being like a sister to me, she can read my emotions even if I don’t want her to.

  “Yeah. I get it. I was in his place once. I’m out and proud now, and I understand how he might be hesitant to come out, given our profession, but there’s a difference between freaking and running away like last night, and then shunning someone who’s gay because you’re uncomfortable with yourself.”

  “Aww, honey. I get it. But remember, he’s new to this. He might not know how to act appropriately, and maybe that’s not him trying to be rude, maybe he really just doesn’t know any better.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I sigh and sit back down, kicking off my shoes. “I don’t mean to be rude myself, but I think I’m going to take a shower, clear my head,” I peel my socks off and she crinkles her nose.

  “Mhmm. I’m sure it’s just the one head you need to be clearing,” she stands and walks to the door before I can respond. “It’ll all work out, Alex. Just remember to be respectful and professional.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I stand, gather my socks and open the cloth hamper bag from my own luggage. I toss the socks inside as the door clicks shut, then I step into my bathroom. I turn the shower head on and look in the mirror at my reflection. I do look a bit peaked, as Alayah had said earlier, then I realize what I need to do. I step under the spray and turn the water as cold as I can stand it, let it wake me up and refresh me, then I turn it as hot as I can stand it to wash and rinse off.

  The semi I’m sporting gets agitated with thoughts of David and I reach between my legs, letting the soap and my grip work their magic. It doesn’t take me long to come. The images of David from last night, how innocent he looked, are fresh in my mind. Then when he ran off on me, I got a serious case of blue balls, which left my teeth on edge, and I sat in the corner bench behind the curtain drinking until I couldn’t feel them or the sting of rejection.

  My lust is quickly replaced with anger, which turns cool on the inside. I climb out of the shower, body still quivering, but towel off and wipe at the condensation on the mirror. My skin is red and swollen, but by opening it up with the steam, I look a little better. I reach into my bathroom bag and grab a small pouch, pulling out some essentials Alayah taught me to use to slay in the looks department. I style my hair, a look she advised because if I look too put together, it might make me look stuck up, and then I return to my room, where I pull something off one of the racks that had been delivered.

  I decide to go with fitted jeans and a button-down, sculpted shirt which not only shows off my ass and my abs, but with a tie that I pull on and loosen the look screams I-don’t-care casual, even with the dressy accents. Before I l
eave my room, my cool interior assesses the effect of the look, and I smile when I see the accessories on the rack. Two can play David’s game.

  I walk over and grab the black fedora off the rack and pull it low over my eyes. Where he is white, pure and innocent, I add a touch of darkness and mystique. I’m still hurt and I never condone pressuring someone into doing something they don’t want to. But I have an issue with someone who gives the go ahead, then comes back to say the other person was in the wrong. Even if he hasn’t said it, David has sent that message loud and clear.

  I make my way topside, where the rest of the crew is assembling. Alayah is already there and she’s toned down her attire to be more relaxed and cruise ready. She’s sporting a bright sun dress and sandals, high heels of course. Her hair’s tied back in a low ponytail off her neck and she’s wearing a large, wide-brimmed sunhat and sunglasses. Sunglasses. That was the thing I forgot. I shrug and pull the fedora a little lower.

  “Someone’s conflicted,” she murmurs, looking me up and down.

  I can’t help it. As much as I don’t want to look for him, I find myself scanning the crowd until I find David, who’s at the head of the meeting, talking with Jake. He hasn’t changed and he looks uncomfortable in the heat of the day in his suit. Even Jake had thrown on a polo shirt and some khaki shorts.

  We all wait patiently and then, when the last few stragglers of the crew make their way to the back, Jake clears his throat and begins to address the crowd.