walk away unscathed, maybe with just a slap on the wrist. She’d lose the respect of her team, coworkers, and management.
Just a few weeks in, and I was already a wreck and in a constant state of arousal. I could always transfer. Maybe go back home? Being home grounded me. The new ship sailing the Mediterranean would be a great fit. Maybe that cruise director would do a swap? Of course, he’d do a swap. I was running the most coveted ship in the industry.
Fanculo ! I really had some serious thinking to do.
Once I got back to my stateroom, I tossed and turned, getting no sleep. A dull, throbbing ache had settled into my cock, and not even masturbating had lessened it in any way. Giving up, I decided to start my day early and hopefully come up with a game plan.
The moment I got into my office, I loaded up the corporate website on my computer in search of a solution. The only cruise director position available was on a ship out of Brazil, which didn’t sound appealing at all. It was an older ship and a huge step backward in my career. I’d have to work on a proposition to swap ships with another CD and come up with a believable reason why I was giving up The Horizon .
“Why the long face?” Ricky asked from the doorway.
“Rough night.” He carried in my double espresso and placed it on my desk. “ Grazie .”
“You’re welcome.” He sat with his clipboard, waiting for me to start our morning routine. I listened as he recapped today’s agenda, asked my normal questions, and made notes when needed.
“Okay, boss. All set. Anything you need me to get done?”
“ Sì .”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I want you to help me work up a proposal.”
His expression instantly hardened. “What for?”
“A transfer.”
“Nope. Not happening.” He shook his head, fury all over his face. Yes, it will , I thought to myself. “Knock this shit off, Marco. You aren’t going to throw away all you’ve worked for because you’re scared of some feelings.”
It looked like I needed to handle this on my own.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rebecca
It was Sunday, sea day, and my favorite day. The ship bustled with activity. The decks filled with sunbathers; the pools teemed with children. Wherever you went, there were happy, smiling people. The itinerary was jammed with tons of fun activities for the passengers to choose from. We always saved our best events for sea days.
On today’s agenda, the belly flop contest. I often found it hard to contain my laughter. Watching those men in all of their glory proudly propel their bodies off the side of the pool to land with a gigantic smack on the surface of the water was just hilarious. My favorite part, Marco was the emcee for this activity, and I assisted.
The first few times that we orchestrated the contest, things were awkward between us. Since we made our pact to be friends, we were a bit more relaxed around each other. He still avoided me, but when he did see me, at least he was pleasant. I often caught him staring. I’d tried to analyze if he stared at others as intently, or if it was just me who received his smoldering gaze.
To be fair, I often stared at him too. I watched as he moved around the pool with authority, yet with a sexiness that came naturally. The grip on my clipboard tightened every time I heard his laugh or saw his smile. I was pretty sure the moisture that dampened my skin had nothing to do with the air temperature.
He assembled a panel of judges for the contest, all under the age of ten. He adorably conferred with them after each flop, giving them full rein in deciding who the winner would be. After each contestant performed their perfect flop, Marco would huddle with his judges, listening to their comments. It was endearing to watch how even the children responded to his charms.
The females were a bit more obvious with their admiration of our cruise director. Women both old and young sat gawking as he obliviously went about his business. The way he spoke, the timbre
Just a few weeks in, and I was already a wreck and in a constant state of arousal. I could always transfer. Maybe go back home? Being home grounded me. The new ship sailing the Mediterranean would be a great fit. Maybe that cruise director would do a swap? Of course, he’d do a swap. I was running the most coveted ship in the industry.
Fanculo ! I really had some serious thinking to do.
Once I got back to my stateroom, I tossed and turned, getting no sleep. A dull, throbbing ache had settled into my cock, and not even masturbating had lessened it in any way. Giving up, I decided to start my day early and hopefully come up with a game plan.
The moment I got into my office, I loaded up the corporate website on my computer in search of a solution. The only cruise director position available was on a ship out of Brazil, which didn’t sound appealing at all. It was an older ship and a huge step backward in my career. I’d have to work on a proposition to swap ships with another CD and come up with a believable reason why I was giving up The Horizon .
“Why the long face?” Ricky asked from the doorway.
“Rough night.” He carried in my double espresso and placed it on my desk. “ Grazie .”
“You’re welcome.” He sat with his clipboard, waiting for me to start our morning routine. I listened as he recapped today’s agenda, asked my normal questions, and made notes when needed.
“Okay, boss. All set. Anything you need me to get done?”
“ Sì .”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I want you to help me work up a proposal.”
His expression instantly hardened. “What for?”
“A transfer.”
“Nope. Not happening.” He shook his head, fury all over his face. Yes, it will , I thought to myself. “Knock this shit off, Marco. You aren’t going to throw away all you’ve worked for because you’re scared of some feelings.”
It looked like I needed to handle this on my own.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rebecca
It was Sunday, sea day, and my favorite day. The ship bustled with activity. The decks filled with sunbathers; the pools teemed with children. Wherever you went, there were happy, smiling people. The itinerary was jammed with tons of fun activities for the passengers to choose from. We always saved our best events for sea days.
On today’s agenda, the belly flop contest. I often found it hard to contain my laughter. Watching those men in all of their glory proudly propel their bodies off the side of the pool to land with a gigantic smack on the surface of the water was just hilarious. My favorite part, Marco was the emcee for this activity, and I assisted.
The first few times that we orchestrated the contest, things were awkward between us. Since we made our pact to be friends, we were a bit more relaxed around each other. He still avoided me, but when he did see me, at least he was pleasant. I often caught him staring. I’d tried to analyze if he stared at others as intently, or if it was just me who received his smoldering gaze.
To be fair, I often stared at him too. I watched as he moved around the pool with authority, yet with a sexiness that came naturally. The grip on my clipboard tightened every time I heard his laugh or saw his smile. I was pretty sure the moisture that dampened my skin had nothing to do with the air temperature.
He assembled a panel of judges for the contest, all under the age of ten. He adorably conferred with them after each flop, giving them full rein in deciding who the winner would be. After each contestant performed their perfect flop, Marco would huddle with his judges, listening to their comments. It was endearing to watch how even the children responded to his charms.
The females were a bit more obvious with their admiration of our cruise director. Women both old and young sat gawking as he obliviously went about his business. The way he spoke, the timbre
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