Lucia smiled as she walked through the door of the Rope Deck back into the corridor on the Third Deck. Her dancing with Edward had been deliberate. Not that she was interested in him but, for personal safety reasons, she had chosen him over any of the Latinos who crowded around her. She wasn’t stupid. She knew better than to trust Latin men who lived and worked below decks and who hadn’t touched a woman in six months. Way too scary for a woman, especially one as hot as her. It was better to choose Edward, a skinny guy who was basically friendly and harmless, to keep the Latinos at bay. Then they wouldn’t be jealous that no man could have her. At least Edward had “had” her, even though he had had no chance of doing anything else with her. Plus Edward could at least dance a little. Tap-dancing was basically the opposite of Latin American dancing. Latin American was all hips and the steps followed the hips. Edward was obviously used to tap, where it was all feet and practically no hip movement at all, unless they followed the feet. It had been difficult for him to “get” Latin American, so Lucia had had to touch hips with him to show him how. As she walked down the corridor, she felt grateful that he hadn’t tried to get fresh. He was a good guy.
Reaching the front staircase, she heard a voice.
“Lucia!” Hurrying down the stairs in an evening gown was Marcia. “Are you going to the Crew Party?”
“I’ve already been,” explained Lucia.
“What! It’s only eight fifteen!”
“Yeah, there are a lot of drunk guys, so…”
“Oh, really? Who was there?”
“Nobody too exciting yet.”
“Well, what did you do?”
“I danced to some samba music.”
“What — on your own?”
“No! I danced with Edward.”
“Edward — who’s he?”
“You know – El Flaco.”
Marcia’s eyes widened. “HIM? The skinny Purser? What did you dance with him for?”
“To keep away from the drunk guys. If I dance with him, it’s safe.”
“Well, what do you know? Was he any good?”
“Not at first,” smiled Lucia. “He got into it, though — so it was OK.”
“Oh, cool.” Marcia looked at Lucia suddenly, remembering something. “Hey, guess what — he’s good at massage, too.”
“What?”
“Massage.”
“Is he the therapist?”
“No, not officially. I’ve heard good things, though, from the girls in the Pursers Office. One girl thinks his massages are better than the therapist’s.”
“Wow,” said Lucia. “Actually, I could use one. How much is the therapist?”
“Thirty-five dollars an hour. She’s Canadian and quite strong. I’ve had one before.”
“Hmmm. How much is Edward?”
“Oh, nothing. He’s free — he’s not qualified or anything, I don’t think. I’ve heard good things, though, from at least three of the female Pursers.”
“Well, huh. What does the therapist think about that?”
Marcia laughed. “Ha! I think she ignores him. She thinks he’s an amateur.”
“Well, after dancing with him tonight, I reckon I can trust him. Plus, why pay thirty-five bucks when there’s a free one available?”
“Totally! Why not?”
“I’ll see if I can set it up.”
Marcia paused. “Where are you going now?”
Lucia hesitated. “I’m not sure. I’m at a bit of a loose end. I figured I might head down to the Disco to see what’s going on.”
“OK!” cried Marcia. “Sounds like a plan! Catch you later!”
“Yeah, you, too,” replied Lucia.
The Disco was way down on the First Floor, below sea level, right at the back of the ship. There was a reason why, of course — noise. It was important not to disturb sleeping passengers in the cabins around the ship.
Lucia stepped carefully down the rather steep staircase and entered a large, darkened area. The walls were padded with felt, with dark blue carpet all around. In the middle was a slightly lower dancefloor, reached by walking down three or four steps. The dancefloor was the same metallic surface Lucia had seen in the Cafe Miramar and the Rendezvous Lounge. It was oval-shaped and around it were some chrome bars to hold onto. Around the walls were a series of red and black sofas, plus similarly upholstered low stools and round, black wooden tables. In the corner, was a small bar with a bartender, while at the end was the DJ booth. Glitterballs revolved as they hung from the ceiling. A younger crowd of twentysomething passengers were already there. About fifteen or twenty were dotted around the walls, while four were on the dancefloor strutting their stuff. The music was loud and the beat pumped through Lucia’s body, awakening her excitement and giving her the sudden urge to dance again.
Just then she realised that one of the dancers was that new guy, Pablo. He was jiving on the small dancefloor, wearing a waistcoat with no shirt, that revealed his trained biceps and muscled chest. He wore a pair of tight jeans with a black, leather belt, and Lucia glanced briefly at his butt as he turned on the dancefloor. Some nondescript sneakers completed the package.
Lucia decided to join the dancers. Stepping forward with confidence, her long legs made short work of the distance between the entrance and the steps leading to the dancefloor. She held onto the handrail lightly as she stepped down.
She began dancing. The music was club, electronic dance music — typical nightclub stuff, and not the Latin American style she was used to. She loved dancing but this was different. She was off-duty, so didn’t care too much about creating a performance to wow the crowd. She ran her fingers through her hair and let loose.
Pablo was limbering up. He hadn’t performed on stage in the Rendezvous yet, since Dave Richards had wanted to see what he could put together with the female dancers before letting him out in front of the punters. So he had decided to visit the Disco to get a feel of the vibe, check out the kind of passengers he would be dealing with and give himself time to acclimatize to this new situation.
Just then, Lucia appeared in front of him. Lucia swayed her hips, moving to the pounding beat, raising her hands in the air, waving them in time. Pablo’s eyes roved over her form, gazing at her exposed midriff, then looking back up at her beautiful face, full lips and what he could make out of her olive skin in the dim light.
Lucia continued dancing, taking a step forward towards Pablo. She remembered the feeling he had given her on the staircase earlier and was curious. She gazed briefly at his muscled torso, gyrating to the beat. She smiled at him. Pablo smirked back. As the music went on, she reached out her hands and placed them on his hips.
Pablo felt her hands on him, so reached out to hold her waist. She didn’t flinch, but instead pulled his hips nearer. Lucia smiled as she realized she had just done this with Edward not even an hour earlier. Pablo knew better what he was doing, though, and held Lucia as he began to lead her. Putting one hand on her lower back and lowering the other to her hip, he bucked his hips and gyrated his torso, inviting her to follow.
She did so, stepping forward again to close the distance between them. She moved her hand up his muscled back, feeling the firm flesh through the black waistcoat. She liked trained muscles and guys who looked like they knew the inside of a gym. She didn’t like huge dudes, but rather the kind of guy who had obviously worked out to achieve some mass yet still had good definition — just like Pablo. Finally, she closed the gap between them. The skin of her midriff could feel his firm abdomen. She looked up into his face, at the tousled black hair, the steely gaze, the angled jaw.
Pablo smiled down at her as the music reached a crescendo. As she turned around and began to grind her butt against him, he felt desire rise in him. She was teasing but that was OK. He was playing with her. She was hot, sexy, desirable and he could imagine her in his bed; and yet…
The music ended. Pablo took her hand and led her up the steps and over to one of the tables. Flopping down on the sofa, Pablo took up a place just behind the table. Lucia sat down next to him, scooting up nearer to be next to him.
Raising his voice slightly over the sound level, he remarked, “I didn’t expect you here.”
“Why not?” demanded Lucia, smiling.
“Not quite your scene, this music,” he said, looking at her.
“No problem!” cried Lucia over the noise. “I wanna chill! Hey, did you check out the Crew Party?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t. Was there one?”
“Sure, over on the back deck where the ropes are.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“Neither did I! My friend Marcia told me and I found it!”
“Cool.” Pablo looked over at the dancefloor. “You’re a pretty good dancer.”
“YEAH! I’m a samba champion!”
“Wow, really! I’m impressed!” Pablo turned to her, giving her some approval. He didn’t usually do that with women so early but this was a legitimate achievement.
“I’ve won prizes in Rio!”
“I see.”
“You dance pretty well!”
“Ha!” replied Pablo. “It’s my job. I get paid to do this.”
“Oh, yeah? Where did you learn?”
“In Medellin.”
“What made you start?”
Hmmm, now there was a question! Pablo looked away from Lucia, off into the middle distance for a few seconds. He remembered the shanty-town, brick-built housing of the favela, the sewage water running down the middle of the alleyway, the electric lighting his dad managed to siphon off from someone else’s mains, the little boys and girls dressed in rags — and the music. Poor people danced to forget their troubles. It was escapism. He had been good at it. While other guys had squandered their lives away in drugs or drink, he had gone to the gym, worked to create the muscles and body he now had, then been “discovered” and begun working in the strip clubs. He had sent some of the money back to support his family but he hadn’t told them what he was doing. He had been stripping for three years and it had become difficult to answer his parents’ questions as to what work he did, so he had grabbed this job as a way out. He turned back to Lucia. “I liked the music and I found out I was good at it. I figured I would make a living out of it.”
“Right!”
“How about you?”
“No, I’ve never done it for money. I’ve won lots of prizes, though.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Huh?” Lucia’s eyes widened at his sudden, serious tone.
“I meant — what made you start?”
“Oh,” replied Lucia, suddenly aware that this conversation had moved to a different level. “Well, I love the passion. When I dance, I feel alive. The rhythm — it speaks to me. I can feel it building up — you know, moving through my body, taking me to places I’ve never been, making me feel things I’ve never felt before, or that I can only feel then and at no other time. I love the feeling of – passion.”
Pablo watched her as she described this. She was animated and excited, gesticulating with her hands, moving her hands up her body as she spoke. Pablo smiled in spite of himself. He knew the feeling she was talking about. He felt it too when he danced — it was why he made more money than any other dancer at the club. “That’s great,” he remarked. Was that all he could think of to say? “Me, too.”
Lucia smiled at him, placing one hand on his lower torso. “So…how about we meet up to dance sometime? We seem to have something in common.” She knew she was coming onto him. She had to admit to herself that she was turned on by this guy. She liked his body, she liked his dancing. His intensity and sudden seriousness just a moment ago intrigued her. She wanted to know more. Plus she really wanted to dance with him. “I want to see if you can feel…what I can feel.” What on earth was she saying?
Pablo could feel her desire. She wanted him, and wanted him badly. So she wanted to see his passion? Sure, he could dance with her. If it was sex she wanted, he’d gladly give it. He remembered the willing women he had met before at the club — how his dancing had turned them on. Then they had begged to be his lover, just for one night. He had had his choice of women and choose he had done, spending the night giving them the sex fantasy they had always dreamed of, enjoying the feel of their bodies, the softness of their skin, the damp wetness down below.
Now Lucia wanted the same. A sudden feeling of shame rose up within him; BUT THIS ISN’T A STRIP CLUB! This was his new life, plus Lucia was not like the women he had bedded before, crazy girls wanting hot sex and an exciting night out. Those women never talked about passion or what they were interested in — they were usually drunk, horny and just wanted him to pound their brains out to forget about their boring day job at the office — a girls’ night out, a hen party, whatever. Then they had left, their fantasies fulfilled, their pussies filled full of pleasure and that had been that. He began to feel uncomfortable, not wanting to do with Lucia what he had done with them. Then there had been Lisa’s warning.
“Yeah, well,” he said suddenly, taking her hand off his chest and standing up. “Maybe we’ll get together in a day or so. I’m sure we’ll be great together. Nice talking to you — catch you later.” Then he walked off.
“Hey! What!” yelled Lucia, after him. “What happened?” Huh! What just happened? What had got into him? Lucia watched as Pablo walked purposefully across the carpeted floor of the Disco and through the exit. Lucia sat there on the sofa bolt upright, surprised and astonished. This wasn’t a feeling she experienced very often.
Just then, another figure approached through the darkness towards her. It was the DJ.
“Hey, baby, got turned down by your hotboy?”
“Hi, Ramon,” said Lucia. “Huh, well, he’s not MY hotboy. I guess he might be someone else’s.”
“Well, hey, I’m always available. I’ll be your hotboy!”
Lucia laughed. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, well, I already have been — once.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Ramon beckoned towards her. “Come and see.”
Lucia stood up. “See what?”
“The DJ Booth,” he replied.
“Oh, cool,” replied Lucia. She followed Ramon to the back of the disco, where a door led to a small, side room. Inside, there was a counter covered with two turntables, a mixing desk and lots of wires, while the back wall had shelves covered with hundreds of compact discs. “I didn’t know anybody used CD’s or vinyl these days,” said Lucia.
“CD’s have the best sound quality,” remarked Ramon. “Sit down. I’ll show you how to do it.”
Ramon pulled out a chair behind the mixing desk and Lucia sat down on it. For the next half-hour, Ramon showed her how to use the equipment while, outside, the punters continued dancing to the music he played. He was excited, and Lucia watched him as he danced up and down, clicking switches, pressing buttons and basically pumping himself up on the high of the music and the atmosphere.
Lucia had been coming down from the dance she had had with Pablo but now, watching Ramon dancing in the DJ Booth and in his element, she felt exhilarated. This was fun! Maybe tonight was going to be a “let-your-hair-down” experience after all. She eyed him as he worked. She admired men with energy and passion, and while Ramon could be crazy at times, he was certainly fun to be around.
She remembered Pablo. What was wrong with him? She frowned and then tossed him out of her mind. Stuff him — his loss.
For the next two hours, Ramon continued playing music. Lucia kind of liked club music. It was different to the Latin she had grown up with, but it was energetic, rhythmic and got her going. Towards the end of the night, as she sat there next to Ramon, she could feel the energy. The trained chest muscles and smooth arms of Ramon were flecked with fresh sweat and, together with the rhythm of the music and the pounding beat vibrating through her body, she reached out to him.
Ramon turned to look at her. “Feeling it, babe?”
Lucia put a finger to his lips. “Don’t speak.” She took her finger away and replaced it with her lips. Her hands buried themselves in his hair as she kissed him. Ramon responded, his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. Her desire for passion rose within her. She held his head in her hands, broke the kiss, then rained kisses down on his mouth and cheeks. Ramon kissed back. His tongue ventured between her lips, licking the top lip, making it tingle.
Then Ramon rose with his arms around her waist. Not wanting any passengers to see and hoping they were too drunk by now to notice, They sat down on the floor in the lotus position, kissing passionately. Lucia grabbed his armless T-shirt and pulled it up his torso. Ramon grabbed it and pulled it off. His damp, slick chest and six pack abs gleamed in the blue light of the Disco. Lucia’s hands roved over his masculine chest, suddenly hungry for touch. She grasped at his flesh, a raw and hungry arousal suddenly rising up for her loins and into her heart. She scraped her nails down his back, while Ramon roughly pulled her top. Her full, gorgeous breasts bounced out, exposed, firm, her nipples hardened. Ramon’s hands cupped them desperately, his cock hard and urgent against his jeans. His mouth lunged forward, sucking on the nipple. Lucia gasped, her breaths ragged as his warm mouth devoured the pert nipple. She groaned as his hand covered her other breast, kneading it, feeling its fullness. Ramon began to lose control, succumbing to his roaring desire, as his hands grabbed at the belt loops of her trousers. She hastily undid the button. There was the sound of a zipper as her panties became exposed. Ramon pushed his hand beneath the elastic, down to her wetness. Lucia groaned again as his fingers encircled her clitoris. His finger briefly entered her, feeling her wetness, then rising up to tease the wetness against the nub. She rose up on her haunches, now in a kneeling position, to give him greater access. His fingers teased, sliding, gliding across her engorged labia. Then suddenly, his finger was inside her, pushing between the folds. “Yes,” cried Lucia, as she felt her desire rising, getting higher and higher, making her lose control. Suddenly she felt a raw hunger for his cock. Her pussy demanded satisfaction, her juices aching.
Ramon undid the button of his jeans and, in one motion, ripped down both them and his underwear. His hard, veiny cock sprang out, urgent, ready, waiting for her, needing her.
Lucia pulled her trousers and panties down, off her legs, then, her hands grabbing his torso, she straddled him. Kneeling above him, she paused, her wet, engorged pussy inches above the throbbing head of his cock. She looked down at Ramon, loving the power she had over him.
“Please,” begged Ramon.
Lucia gave a small smile, then suddenly lowered her pussy straight onto his cock. The hard head slid straight in and Lucia cried out as he pierced her secret place. Her sit bones now flush with his hips, she then rose her hips back up to the head, paused again and looked him in the eye.
Ramon was in ecstasy. He couldn’t believe how good her hot, wet pussy felt.
Lucia once again lowered, then came up. Another pause, then down again, up, then one final look at his handsome face, before then completely losing control. She pumped up and down, growling at the feel of his cock sliding in and out, her pussy wanting more. She needed friction. Faster and faster, she rode him with abandon, as her pussy clenched, the wave building, her desire rising like a wall of liquid fire, her need pulling her on, the release near, her mind lost in passion. She let out a roar as she climaxed, her orgasm ripping through her body, her torso slick with sweat, her full breasts flushed red, her hair wet, her skin slick. She rode him on and on until, the waves subsiding, she collapsed on his chest, her breath heaving, her body satisfied.
Lucia and Ramon lie motionless for a few moments, savouring the bliss.
In the darkness, they didn’t see the female face gazing at them through the window of the DJ Booth. She turned and walked away.