by Julie Cannon
“That president of ours,” he said, breaking the silence and pointing to our forty-fifth president. “He is exactly what this country needs. Someone who’s not afraid to fire the first shot if it’s warranted.”
My father and I don’t see eye to eye on politics, or much else for that matter. He is a staunch Republican and donates extensively to the Grand Old Party. I describe myself as a fiscal conservative and a social liberal. As a business owner who hopes to retire comfortably in twenty or so years, I am tight with my money and expect my elected officials to be the same. I believe in drug testing for welfare, Planned Parenthood, lower taxes, and smaller government. If I have to manage my business and personal finances according to a budget, the US government should be held to the same standards.
“What did he do now?” I asked, tired of trying to keep up with the obnoxious big mouth. Surprisingly, my father spent the next fifteen minutes giving me the blow-by-blow details of every tweet, email, press conference, and offhand comment our most senior elected official had produced that week.
I didn’t agree with my father, but I was trying not to nod off. The hot shower and orgasm had definitely relaxed me. I jumped on an opening and said good night and left the room before he could engage me any further. My father doesn’t say much, but then again, it’s almost impossible to cut into any conversation around my mother, so when he gets a forum, he makes the most of it. I drank two glasses of water and crawled under the covers.
Chapter Eight
Day Two
At sea
Sydney to Hobart
The sun was blistering bright where it came through the window. I’d forgotten to close the drapes when I came to bed and winced at the sharp pain that shot through my eyes. I was on my back, my knees up, my hand between my legs. I must have assumed this position along with one of the hottest dreams I’d had in a long, long time.
I rolled onto my side, pulling up the covers, as the air-conditioning was cooling my bare skin. If my mother had walked in during my dream, she probably would have fainted. It wouldn’t have mattered that I was a grown woman and she’d walked in on me. I sleep naked at home but never when I’m traveling. I didn’t remember taking off my jammies, but that too must’ve been a part of my dream. It was unsettling to think I might have actually made as much noise as I had in my head.
My back to the sun, I relaxed, my thoughts immediately returning to Faith. My goodness, she was young. I’m not normally attracted to women that much younger than me. They were usually flighty and clueless about anything other than themselves. However good in bed they were, the sex wasn’t worth the vacancy in their eyes. I know not all young women are like that, but the ones I’ve come in contact with have been.
Faith had a mature worldliness about her that probably came from her travels, and that type of exposure gave you a different perspective on life. Granted, I doubted the tours from the Escape went to places like Calcutta or Haiti or other impoverished countries. She was interesting, and I enjoyed talking to her. I didn’t have to find a topic or pretend I was interested in what she was saying. We weren’t engaging in verbal foreplay or verbal sparring, but were simply two people having a stimulating conversation.
I glanced at the clock, surprised it was after nine. I’m normally up by six, including when I’m here. Nothing like a good dream about sex to knock you out. I got up, put on a robe, and made a cup of coffee, using the small Keurig on the table. Then I opened my laptop to check my email. When you own a business, you’re never really away. You just work somewhere else.
Ninety minutes later, showered, dressed, and a full cup of coffee in hand, I was ready to undertake my daughterly duties. Today began with brunch on the patio catered by the bistro where I had met Faith the day before. I didn’t believe in karma or kismet or mystical connections. We didn’t need to engage a wedding planner and pick out a china pattern. The Escape simply offered a limited number of choices, and my parents always used The Cuppa for brunch.
I paid more attention to the conversation than I had during dinner and didn’t have to suffer through another volley of Victoria’s harsh sideways glances. However, my thoughts did keep drifting to Faith.
She was beautiful when her eyes lit up. She used her hands when she talked to make a point. She was engaging, amusing, optimistic, smart, sensitive, and just downright interesting. I couldn’t remember anyone holding my attention or piquing my curiosity in a long time.
“Lowe, are you seeing anyone?” my mother asked, shocking the hell out of me. We never, and I mean never, discuss my social life.
“No one serious,” I replied carefully. I wasn’t sure where this question came from, and I was equally unsure if I wanted this topic to continue.
“I do hope you’re looking for an appropriate life partner,” my mother said, and I had to keep myself from falling off my chair.
Life partner? That label went out with the turn of the century.
“Meaning?” I asked, even though I suspected I knew her definition.
“Someone respectable,” Victoria added helpfully. “From a good family. Someone who shares our interests, that will fit in. We wouldn’t want them to feel uncomfortable around us.” Translation: rich, white, and preferably male.
“I appreciate your concern about the woman who, someday, will want me to share the rest of her life,” I said, clearly setting the expectation of any future wife I may or may not have.
“It’s just that you’re so busy with your job. How are you going to meet someone? Do you get out much?” my mother asked, calmly lifting her coffee cup to her perfectly applied lipstick mouth.
Get out much? What did that mean, and what in the hell was she fishing for? Victoria was most likely eager for my answer. However, in her designer vacation clothes and perfectly coiffed big hair, she looked only politely interested. I knew better. She was completely interested. Oh, and I hated the way my mother referred to my company, the company I built from the ground up with no help from them, as “my job.” Like I worked on an assembly line.
“I am busy, but I do get out.” Sometimes for the sole purpose of going back in, I thought, but didn’t say for obvious reasons. Maybe someday I will. “I have a few good friends that I see on a regular basis.” Friends with benefits was more accurate. “I meet people all the time.”
“Why don’t we ever meet them?” Victoria asked, sounding a bit snarky.
“Well,” I said, “for starters, you live in Philadelphia, and our parents live here.” I extended my arms toward the ocean. “None of you ever come to my house, and they can’t come here.” Nor would they want to, I thought, except one, and that was Charlotte. She’d come just to watch the fireworks.
“We just don’t know much about what’s going on in your life,” Victoria said. “You are a member of the family.”
“What do you want to know?” I probably should have asked, what do you want to know the answer to.
“You know, things,” Victoria said, as if that was specific enough.
“Okay.” I thought a minute. “I have season tickets to the Phoenix Symphony and an annual pass to the Phoenix Art Museum. This year I went to the Bolshoi ballet when it came to town, Cirque du Soleil, and the Broadway play Hamilton.” My mother and sister showed their approval, but I knew they would soon rescind it.
“I also have season tickets to the Arizona Cardinals, Phoenix Mercury, and our new soccer team, the Phoenix Rising. I’m not much of a hockey fan, I’m afraid.” As expected, their approving smiles diminished as I recited the names of our professional sports teams. “On the first Saturday of the month, I kayak with a bunch of women. Oh, and I have a library card,” I added, just for the hell of it. My mother swallowed her distaste of my extracurricular activities.
“Do you sit on any boards?” Victoria asked.
“No. I prefer to contribute in a more meaningful way, with my checkbook.” That was a not-so-subtle jab at her.
“When are you planning to quit?” my mother asked.
Victoria answered the question for her. “Your job.”
That was a stupid question, and I almost told her so. “I own a business. You don’t just quit. “I love what I do. Until I don’t, I’ll keep doing it.”
“What are your expansion plans?” My father finally added to the conversation. I was thankful for the change in subject, but I looked at him carefully. He’d asked me that yesterday. Was he getting forgetful or just grabbing at something to say? I repeated my answer from the day before and added, “I’m at a comfortable size right now. I’ll see how it plays out.”
I reached for the other half of my bagel and saw my mother and Victoria exchange a knowing glance. To hell with them, I thought, taking a bite.
“We dock in Hobart tomorrow,” my mother said. “Have you arranged to take any of the excursions? I’m told there is fabulous shopping.”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided,” I fibbed. I’d been thumbing through the excursion book when I ran into Faith. Was it only yesterday?
“You’re welcome to join Victoria and me.”
My mother’s view of shopping and mine are completely opposite. I’d rather have a tooth pulled with no anesthesia than go with them. I had thought about browsing the local outdoor market, where I could get a better idea and feel of the country than I could at a well-dressed, upscale mall.
“Like I said, I haven’t decided. Don’t wait for me.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw a look of relief pass between them.
“I’m going to go hit some balls,” my father said, getting up from the table.
“I’ll walk with you.” I grabbed the opportunity to get away from this conversation. “I need a little exercise to shake off this jet lag. Would either of you care to join me?” It was a rhetorical question. Neither of them would.
***
Our first day at sea after leaving Sydney I was assigned to work in one of the coffee shops in the morning, then moved to the patio bar.
The pool on the Escape was much smaller than the ones on a traditional cruise ship, but it did have the requisite lounge chairs and tables with umbrellas for shade from the harsh sun. The chairs were still in the same neat little rows the deck stewards put them in last night, like little toy soldiers waiting for their assignment. Several kids were playing in the water, their parents and grandparents watching nearby. Mr. Locklear from deck eight approached.
“Hi, Faith. Can I get three diets and a glass of ice water?” Karl Locklear was a large, rotund man with jet-black hair dyed for too many years. He had to be in his seventies, yet he didn’t have one gray hair on his head. His bare chest, on the other hand, looked like a pad of steel wool had exploded on it.
I filled the large plastic cups with ice as he pointed out who was who in and around the pool. But I lost track of what he was saying when Lowe strolled into the area and grabbed a towel from the stack from the table by the Jacuzzi. I didn’t hear a word after she dropped her towel on the chair and shucked her shirt. I almost dropped the cup when she stepped out of her shorts. Mr. Locklear was still talking, and I just wanted him to go away so I could ogle Lowe in private.
Lowe was wearing a one-piece suit that accentuated every womanly part on her body. When she dove into the pool with barely a ripple, I knew she spent a lot of time in the water. I waited eagerly for her to resurface, and when she did, my heart started beating again.
Luckily, other than the Locklear family, no one else was in the area, and I had an unobstructed view of Lowe as she swam lap after short lap. Her strong arms cut through the water, and I felt like a voyeur just standing there watching her. We’d met little more than twenty-four hours ago, but I was completely enthralled.
One of the Locklear grandkids interrupted my leering and asked for another glass of water. I filled up his cup and quickly shooed him off to continue my new favorite pastime.
Lowe swam nonstop for at least twenty minutes before effortlessly lifting herself out of the pool. Water slid off her body, leaving a trail to the chair. She toweled off her hair, then her arms and legs, before lying down and stretching out.
From my vantage point, I watched the rapid rise and fall of her perfect breasts as she cooled down from her workout.
Not long after, other residents joined the Locklears, and I had to do my job instead of stare at Lowe. I had my back to the pool replacing a bottle of gin when I heard a voice that make a tickle skip down my spine.
“May I have a refill?”
Lowe stood behind me as I took a deep breath before turning around. Instead of forty feet away, she was four, and I could see a hint of an old tan line on her shoulder.
“Sure.”
Lowe handed me her thermal mug. “Water, please.”
“Enjoy your swim?” I asked, then immediately regretted my question. It let her know I was aware of what she’d been doing.
“Yes, I did. Thanks. I’ve been so busy getting ready for this trip I haven’t been to the gym in a couple of weeks.”
“Do you swim regularly?” I handed her back her mug, reminding myself not to look at her exceptional cleavage.
“I have a pool in my backyard, and I try to get in it every day.”
“How long have you been swimming,” I asked out of politeness to a guest of a resident. Yeah, right. However much I wanted to watch her walk away, I wanted her to stay more.
“Five or six years.”
“Enjoying your trip so far?” God, Faith, that was stupid. We were barely eighteen hours out of port.
Lowe looked at me for a long time, and when her hot eyes traced down my body and back up again, I forgot what I’d asked.
“I’m definitely enjoying myself, thank you.”
Another resident needed my attention at the other end of the bar, so I excused myself. I was only able to catch a glimpse of Lowe’s backside as she walked back to the chair. I was so distracted, I overfilled the man’s glass and had to start over. When Lowe gathered up her towel and bag and left, I was disappointed yet grateful to be able to focus on my job.
I somehow managed to get through the rest of my shift and back to my cabin without seeing her again.
Chapter Nine
I could see lights off the starboard bow and knew we’d be docking in the morning. I’d signed up to be a concierge for one of the tours and couldn’t wait to get off the ship. I’d been feeling edgy the last few days, which meant I needed a change of scenery. I needed to feel solid ground beneath my feet and smell clean, salt-free air. Normally we had to shell out cash if we were going on one of the tours, but because I agreed to work, the Escape paid my expenses. I looked at my watch. I had eight minutes to get to the auditorium where the briefing was being held. Like I said earlier, the Escape brought in local experts to provide residents with information about the country we were about to visit. We weren’t required to attend, but I wanted to be as prepared as I could be.
The room was crowded, and an African-American man in white pants and a red button-down shirt under a blue blazer stood in front of the room. He adjusted the microphone on his lapel.
After the requisite “Check, check, check, can you hear me?” the man greeted us. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” The crowd settled down, the noisy chatter dissipating. I grabbed an empty seat in the last row.
As he talked I took a few notes on the brochures I’d picked up from the table in the lobby. The man explained the various packages and timelines. There were several to choose from, ranging from those that were wheelchair accessible to those more strenuous. Busses would depart from the dock at eight and drop passengers off at an exclusive mall, the beach, hiking trails, the farmers’ market, and a few other places. They would make a return run in the opposite direction later that evening. If residents missed the appointed time, they were on their own, the man warned them several times. He, of course, was much more eloquent, but the message was the same.
I was reading the map on the island when someone sat down beside me.
�
�Do you come here often?”
I laughed at the lame pick-up line. “You’re not serious?” I asked Lowe.
“Absolutely. Does the Escape stop here often?” she asked, trying hard to look innocent.
“We’ve been here before. You?”
“First time.”
Something about those two words made me think about how it would be our first time together. I had to get that image out of my head.
“Hey,” Lowe said, snapping her fingers. “Since you’ve been here and I haven’t, why don’t you show me around?”
And I must have looked like I was going to say no because she quickly said, “It’s more fun that way. And if we get lost, two heads can think better than one. Besides, I suck at map reading.”
Lowe looked so innocent and devilishly handsome, she almost took my breath away.
“I imagine you can find your way around anything.” My voice was more seductive than teasing, and Lowe obviously picked up on the difference. “I don’t think we’d be interested in the same things,” I added quickly.
Lowe’s eyes darkened, and she was looking at my lips when she said, “I kind of hoped we could be.” This time her voice was soft and whispery.
“Ms. Carter,” I said, dragging my eyes from hers and my mind out from between the sheets.
“I thought I asked you to call me Lowe.”
“All right, Lowe.”
“Let’s just take the same tour and go to the same places at the same time,” she said quickly. “I’m going on the B tour. We start at the Airwalk, then do some hang-gliding, a little shopping at Salamanca Place, and finish up with dinner at Franklin’s. What are your plans?” she asked, looking at my notes.
I caught the scent of her cologne. It wasn’t perfume but had a more textured scent, if I could explain it that way. She smelled good. My nipples instinctively hardened due to the proximity of her mouth to my breasts. I prayed she wouldn’t notice, but how could she not?
