Faking It(2)

Banks said nothing, his face locked in a pain-filled rictus of forced acquiescence. I walked down the table to Mr. Hobbs, who slowly and carefully stood. We shook hands. “As the majority shareholder of HHC, I have the power to green light any major decisions all by my lonesome,” I smiled, “and I say we are going to be working together, Mr. Hobbs, sir. What say you?”

The old man’s voice was deep and rough, “I’d say you gotta deal, Mr. Harcourt.”

Hobbs Jr. piped up a protest, which his father quickly but kindly silenced, and there was some grumbling from the board. I ignored them. “Outstanding. Now, we’ve been trying to arrange this deal for six months, I think we all need a break,” I smiled over at Henry. “Do you think we ought to learn something about the superyacht business, old buddy?” He nodded back at me, enthusiastically. “I believe I have a 150ft boat moored off the coast of somewhere, don’t I?”

“You do,” replied Henry, “but I’m afraid she’s in dry-dock, being refitted.”

“Well then,” I turned to my latest business partner, “Mr. Hobbs, with your connections, I was hoping you could steer us toward a good charter...”

Mr. Hobbs smiled back, “I know just the captain to take care of you.”





Misty

The alarm beeped annoyingly, right by my pillow. I reached out and hit snooze, praying for just five more minutes of sleep. It was not to be, however, even though it was only five in the morning. This was the life we’d signed up for.

The light in our tiny cabin came on and Tanya instantly slid down from her top bunk. I tried to turn my head in time but it was too late. Tanya insisted on sleeping naked which never bothered me, except first thing every morning when I was presented with a daily, eye-level and in-your-face view of her hairless and exposed vagina, or a pair of smooth, bare buttocks, before she would disappear into our little shower room. It was certainly not my ideal way of waking up, regardless of how firm, tanned and sexy that ass was.

I could hear tooth-brushing and off-key humming noises coming from the small head that served our cabin, so I hauled myself out of my bunk. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I stared at myself in the mirror on the bathroom door. Jeez, I looked awful. My shoulder-length blonde hair was all tousled and frizzy, my blue eyes bloodshot and puffy, and the close proximity of the mirror was showing me every single open pore and blemish. I let out a long sigh and groped about on the shelves for my Lycra running shorts.

I found them and pulled them on, then stood and turned away from the cabin door. This was a habit I developed after the second-time Brett burst in uninvited, and we ended up nipple-to-nipple. The cabin really was that small. It always amazed how he always seemed to know exactly when one or both of us was half-naked but, of course, never knocked. Sure enough, as I pulled my nightshirt up over my head, I heard the door open and an excited ‘wow-ee’ come from the doorway. I quickly wrapped my arms around my bare breasts and shot Brett an evil, yet playful, look over my shoulder. It was hard to be mad at him. He didn’t mean any harm, he was just being silly and flirty. Our boat’s third deckhand stood there, shirtless, and gorgeous, a solid slab of muscle, all tanned skin and cheeky smiles, with long, wet, brown hair framing his sharp, stubbly face.

“Get the fuck out, Brett!” I snapped at him, as he stared at my bare back, hoping for a glimpse of side-boob. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat as Tanya stepped serenely out of the head, still totally naked and completely unashamed. She gave me the diversion I needed to grab my sports bra and tug it over my tits.

“Morning, handsome,” sang Tanya, as she squeezed her long, lithe body around me. She smiled as she walked slowly, yet threateningly, toward the open-mouthed Brett. She reached him, placed a hand on his firm chest, and effortlessly shoved him out the door, closing it behind her. She turned to me and giggled as the outside corridor was quickly filled with loud complaints and protests.

I smiled back at her. “Will you put some damn clothes on?” I insisted.

“Only if you give me a big kiss first, beautiful!” she teased, playfully caressing her proud and prominent breasts seductively.

“Oh, you bitch,” I laughed. While it seemed to me that Tanya was a tri-sexual – meaning she’d try pretty much anything – she knew I was only into guys. She’d still mess with me every chance she got, though. “Shut up and let’s go, shall we?”

“Just waiting on you!” she called behind me as I stepped into the head and locked the door. As I brushed my teeth, my mind wondered over the two months I’d spent so far crewing this yacht. Part of me wished I could be as outgoing and confident in my body as Tanya, the second steward to my third. There was, after all, not a lot of room for privacy or modesty among the crew, below-deck of Aphrodite, the 161-foot, $20 million luxury motor yacht we all worked charters on. The cramped, claustrophobic crew quarters meant everyone was bound to see your junk or your tits at some point, so why should I worry?

Plus, every night we weren’t on charter usually involved vast amounts of drinking and dancing, as you’d expected from a crew of mostly early-twenty-something beautiful people, working hard in the Caribbean and earning a ton of money. Of course, there was more than a fair share of making out and hooking up going on too, although the latter was not quite as common as you’d think, though. Especially since the morning after would leave both parties trapped on a boat with no way of escape.