Love On A Family Cruise

I was sitting on the deck of the cruise ship, by the pool, soaking in sun while watching the lovely ladies in their sunwear. My kids were both in their kids club, more than content to spend the day with their peers instead of with their boring old dad. Big Mouse runs quite a well-oiled machine, and there were lots of activities for them. As a result, I had plenty of time to sit around and do nothing but watch what sights there were to see.

It had been one year since my wife had been killed in an automobile accident. I had wanted to take the kids somewhere far away when that day came around to make ease the pain its anniversary would bring. Heather was now 13, Anthony 10; the Big Mouse cruise ship gave them the chance to do whatever they wanted, to be more independent than they were in normal life, so it seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

Most of the ladies I was watching were moms with their kids. Some of them were still quite attractive and maintained a nice figure, but wherever there was a mom there pretty much was guaranteed to be a dad. The few exceptions I could see were young, unwed mothers who were being taken on this trip by grandma and grandpa. Sure, many of them looked very, very nice, but I was over 30. In the few sporadic attempts at singles events I had tried in the last few months, I had quickly found that outside of basic lust, they were just not in the same frame of mind that I was. Aside from our both having kids, I had nothing in common with them.

The ladies that weren't moms were either over fifty or else also very young; frequently these ladies were honeymooners, or more rarely simply vacationing with boyfriends. This wasn't a singles cruise—that wasn't the goal of this trip—so I wasn't seeing anyone that I might spend any time with. And frankly, that was exactly what I expected.

There was an adult-only pool, but that was filled with the young lovers and I really didn't want to watch them snogging by the pool in my own state of loneliness. I found that there was actually more to see at the children's pool than the family pool—which made sense, I suppose, in that on average the younger kids who would prefer the children's pool would also have younger mothers. I was pleasantly surprised at how many of the moms wore, and still looked quite good in, bikinis. Course, many of them also hadn't hit 25 yet.

I was being careful not to be too obvious in my observing; the last thing I needed was some dad getting in my grill for staring at his wife too much. About half the dads were floating around the pool area somewhere, the other half were doing other things but sooner or later checked in with the wife, so it was obvious who the couples were.

There were three in particular that I spent a lot of time watching. One was a blonde who had had her hair braided in tropical fashion (done on board, most likely) and whose belly was as flat and skinny as any of the jailbait in the teens club. She only had one child (so far), as I would have expected based on her slimness. Her husband (or baby-daddy) looked like he was 16; for all I know he was. The second was a strawberry blonde had long flowing hair and lots of freckles that caught my attention because her suit was more revealing than most—more like the newlyweds fore than the mothers aft—and had the body to carry it off. I predicted that she would have a diamond the size of a child's fist, which I eventually confirmed. Her husband was a little older but very tan like her and wearing an excessive gold watch; a rich guy and a trophy wife.

The third one, however, I never saw speaking to anyone else—no obvious husband or grandparents. She had brunette hair with auburn accents, from the sun perhaps, long and naturally curly. She wasn't quite as skinny as the other two, but she still looked quite good. Belly, thighs, hips: she wasn't rail-thin, but she had a natural, attractive, feminine shape. But what really attracted attention one's attention to her were the marvelous globes on her chest. Her breast were almost perfectly spherical, D-cups I'm sure, and yet at least in the bikini had almost no sag given their mass. Her bikini was brown with a gold metal ring holding the two cups together—but the supermodel the designer had in mind when he designed her suit was a B-cup at best. Because her chase was much larger, the cups stuck out further than intended. Because they stuck out further, the valley between them was deeper and revealed more of those wonderful melons than had been intended, either. In fact, it was deep enough that you could see two shades of color on their skin. The bottom, nearer her chest, was a darker shade of tan like the rest of her upper torso. Then there was a lighter region above that, a region that had not seen quite as much sun. I spent some time daydreaming as to whether, were you to reach the peaks of her Kilimanjaros, you would find yet a third shade that had not seen sun at all.

The lovely lady was quite busy, however, keeping an eye on two very active kids, both of whom looked under five. As the afternoon wore on, I spent more and more time watching her and her mesmerizing cleavage; she was far too busy to notice a lonely thirtysomething watch her every move.

I wasn't watching the time (I was watching her) but the pool started getting empty, indicating that dinner time was nearing. I went back to my room to discover that both of my kids had left messages saying they were dining with their peers; that was fine, that was part of the whole idea of our being here. But it left me alone for dinner, and I didn't feel like sitting through a formal dinner alone. So instead I headed up to the alternative dining buffet on deck and sat at the bar to eat. During dinner the deck was largely deserted—but I noticed that the woman I had spent all afternoon ogling was also there, sitting at a side table feeding her kids pizza. It looked very much now like she was on this cruise as a single parent like myself, in which case I could see where pizza on deck made a lot more sense than trying to entertain two little ones during a two-hour fancy dinner. It was harder for me to watch her, though, since the bar chairs faced inwards and I would have had to turn noticeably to keep watching her. I stole glances as I could; I considered sending her a drink, but that just didn't seem proper or like it would even be appreciated.

After dinner she took her kids below decks; perhaps she was taking her kids to their club. It didn't matter, I didn't know where she was headed and I was not going to go spying all over the ship trying to find her. I pulled out the daily schedule, decided what I was going to do with myself. An item caught my attention that hadn't before: a singles mixer. It was scheduled for early evening, right after the first dinner seating. Well, I was single; I guess it couldn't hurt to check it out. I would have loved it if the lovely lady from the deck was there, but I had no reason to believe she would—I didn't know for sure she was single, and she had to watch those two little kids.

I changed out of my suit and put on a more evening-appropriate outfit. I ordered a drink at the sports bar and sat there sipping it, waiting for the social to begin—I certainly didn't want to be the first one there, that would make me appear too desperate. I waited until I heard the social director staff talking to people asking if they were single and directing them into the bar before going there myself.

I was given a bolt when I entered; the old nut-and-bolt trick was a pretty tried-and-true starter for a singles night. "First couple to match nut and bolt win a prize," the staff kept announcing. I looked around and there, sitting at the back by herself, was the lovely brunette from upstairs. She hadn't had time to dress up much; I could still see the string of her bikini, but she had put on a dress-like cover-up and a pair of high-heeled wedges. But even with the cover-up, those wonderful round breasts with their two shades of tan peeked out from under her clothes. I didn't even look at who else was there; I didn't care. I made a beeline for her booth.

"Hello," I said, sliding in across from her. "I'm Rick. Does your nut match my bolt?"

"I don't know, let's see," she said gamely in a soft voice. I gave her my nut and she tried to screw them together. Not even close.

"You know, I don't really care about whether your bolt fits or not," I said, "I saw you up on deck this afternoon keeping an eye on your kids, and I'm happy to get the chance to meet you. What's your name?"

I caught her by surprise by the fact that I had seen her earlier, but answered "I'm Kelly. My son Jeremy is five and my daughter Jenny is three."

"Mine are quite a bit older; my daughter Heather is 13, and Anthony is 10," I replied.

"Oh, you have kids too?" she asked, again slightly surprised. I could see why; in the corner of my eye I could see that nine out of ten people at this party were college-age kids; Kelly was probably closing in on 30.

"Yes, although you wouldn't know it—I think I checked them in to their kid clubs yesterday and I don't think I've seen them since," I replied.

"On the other hand, you have time to yourself," she said. "I wish mine were more interested in their club; they just want to be at the pool with mommy."

"I remember those days—it's the age," I answered. "On the plus side, you don't have to find ways to entertain yourself all day. So, how did you end up here in the singles mixer?"

"Well, my husband was killed in Iraq," she replied, "so I guess that mean's I'm single again."

That made my blood boil a little—I had very strong feelings about the war, and now I was meeting someone firsthand whose kids would never know their father on account of massive policy stupidity. But if she was married to a military man, she might not feel the same way about it, so I didn't know what if anything I could say. Fortunately she saved me with a more pressing question. "What about you?" she asked.

"My wife was killed in a car accident a year ago tomorrow; I brought my kids on this cruise to help them make it through the day," I told her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said.

"Likewise," I replied. But it was interesting that we were both widows, not divorcees. That meant neither of us carried the emotional baggage of a failed marriage.

By this time, almost everyone else had met their match and was going through the obligatory matching-nut pleasantries. There was of course one man and one woman that were perplexed by not finding their matches, and they were sharing their perplexity.

"Excuse me a second," I said, and headed toward them. "I think you're looking for this, I said to the girl, who matched the nut perfectly. Turning to the guy, I said "trade you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, secretly happy inside since the girl was pretty hot, but not wanting to appear so on the outside.

I brought my newly traded bolt back to the table and said "now we should match." It fit easily. "See—we were meant to meet," I quipped; she laughed sweetly.

They did a bunch of singles mixer games after that, but Kelly and I didn't take part in any of them; we sat in the back booth intently getting to know each other. The host at first tried to get us to join in, but noticing that we were hitting it off and that, after all, was the point, eventually let us be.

"So where do you live?" I asked. Turned out she lived in Chicago, which was just about 100 miles from where I live—certainly a manageable distance. Since her husband had been killed, she brought her kids down to see their grandparents (her in-laws) who lived in Florida for two or three weeks. She had hit upon the idea of taking the cruise to give the grandparents a rest from the kids—and presumable, give her a break from her in-laws. In the next hour we talked about our jobs, parenting, widowhood, cruises, and as many things as we could in an hour. But when the hour was up she got a page on her beeper to pick up her kids.

"What is your stateroom?" I asked. "I'd like to try to find you tomorrow—maybe we can meet for dinner or something." She was a little hesitant, but we had gotten along very well, so she gave me her room number. I watched the sashay of her hips as she left to pick up her kids; she turned and gave me a little wave as she walked out the door. Impulsively, I blew her a kiss; as soon as I did, I hoped I hadn't just blown it by being presumptuously familiar. I sat in my table for about half of the next activity just on the off-chance she came back, but of course she didn't. I went up to my stateroom and dreamt about her all night.

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Next morning my kids joined me for breakfast—it was our day in Nassau, and Heather in particular had shopping on her mind, so I was needed for a change. I saw Kelly feeding her kids across the room, but I didn't want my kids to know I was looking for someone—certainly not today. At one point she and I made eye contact and smiled briefly, but her kids were jumping out of their skins to get going and they left long before my kids finished scarfing down their donuts.

My kids dragged me through the shops of Nassau for three hours before they were finally appeased and we headed back to the ship. They went to their clubs of course; I changed into swimwear and went to the deck to look for Kelly. As I expected, she was shepherding her kids around the kid's pool. She was sitting on the ledge of the shallow water, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem to sit with her and lend her a hand. As I got close, however, I could see that she had splotches of bright red sunburn already appearing on her back, above and below the knot in her bikini.

"Hey Kelly, how are you doing?" I said.

She turned towards me, saying "Hi Rick, how was Nassau?"

"It was OK...but your back isn't," I said. "You're already beet red—you need to do something about that, like right now."

"Oh, is it really bad?" she asked. "Jeremy was the only person I could ask to put sunscreen on my back. I'm afraid he doesn't really get the idea yet."

"I kind of guessed that—you're covered in some spots and beet red in others. Can I help?" I asked.

"Please, I would appreciate that," she replied, "that's my sunscreen over there."

I went and fetched her sunscreen, poured some onto my fingers, and started gently spreading it on her back and shoulders. In part I was being careful because she was already burned in spots and it might hurt when I touched it. But it was equally true that I was just enjoying touching a woman's soft skin again; I was as much caressing her as spreading sunblock. I think she noticed that I didn't just goop and slobber the stuff, and I think she kind of liked it.

"Thank you," she said.

"Oh, that's quite all right," I said, "anytime." And I meant it.

I now continued with my original plan, sitting on the edge of the kiddie pool and talking to Kelly when I could in-between her attending to and entertaining her kids. They were cute, little Jenny especially; I played with them some myself. Jenny wouldn't stop giggling when I would hold her up and then let her fall into the water before catching her again. Yes, I was doing that in part to make a good impression on Kelly, and we both knew it. But I did know a thing or two about kids, and the fact that playing with them came naturally rather than being contrived DID, in fact, leave an impression. By midafternoon, she felt comfortable enough to ask me to keep an eye on them while she went to the bathroom. Five minutes later she was back, saying "Thank you. You have no idea how traumatic it is to have to drag the kids out of the pool to go with me every time I need to go potty....I mean, go to the bathroom."

She reddened slightly, but I just laughed; "Clearly, you need to spend a little more time with adults."

We both seemed to enjoy each other's company. She liked having an adult to talk to, at least once in a while, and having help with the kids. I could easily see myself getting to know her better—but this was day two of a four-day cruise, so time was not on my side. As a result, I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, but I also didn't want to become a pest and wear out my welcome. When dinner came around, she again elected to feed them from the quick meal options nearby. She could have taken them down to her room to feed them, but instead did it right on the deck, so I asked if she minded if I joined them. She said "if you don't mind boring fast food, you're certainly welcome to join us." So I dined with them, helping her kids with their chicken strips and fries too.

About 7:30—and about the time when I figured she would probably be putting them to bed soon—I got a page from Anthony. I couldn't have asked for a better way to exit. Before I went to see what he needed, I asked her if she was planning to go ashore tomorrow, our day at the private island.

"Oh yes...my kids just love the beach," she replied.

"I would have never guessed," I said facetiously, "would you mind if I looked for you ashore after breakfast."

"If you like," she replied, "we'll be somewhere near where the water hits the sand."

With that I excused myself to attend to Anthony. He didn't need anything important; he had wanted to buy something and I hadn't given his card purchasing rights (for exactly that reason). As I walked to get him, I pondered whether I was being too pushy—although I hadn't asked her for anything other to than to permit me to be in her vicinity. Perhaps I was being too persistent, though, because I was with them most of the day. Well, if I was, then she could just tell me to leave her and her family alone and I'd be no worse off than when I started. And so far, she hadn't asked me to leave her alone.

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Next morning at breakfast Heather was all agog about some way-overpriced trinket jewelry in the gift shop she had seen and couldn't afford. I listened politely, but in reality my mind was thinking only of Kelly. As soon as they were done eating, the kids left to go ashore with their friends in the club. I took my time changing and heading ashore, not wanting to get there before Kelly and her kids.

The private island was very beautiful. It was dominated by a large half-moon shaped bay trimmed with white sand. Parts of the bay were cordoned off for activities like snorkeling; a large section in the middle was the swimming beach. The ship anchored off the far point of the half-moon, so it was a bit of a walk to the swimming beach.

There were hundreds of people on the beach. Lounge chairs were set all across the sand, and most of them were occupied by girls in bikinis, tanning. There were family clusters too, some on the beach, many more in the water. As I walked towards the waves, I saw little Jenny in the distance. She was scooping sand with her hand, trying to make a sand castle, but she had no sand toys. Soon I spotted Danielle and Jeremy; they were playing in the sand, but it appeared that both of the kids were being whiny about not having toys. I decided to make a detour to the island gift shop (surely Big Mouse would never miss a chance to sell us something) and bought a small pre-packaged bag of beach toys. I headed back down to where I had seen Kelly.

Kelly had her back to me and the kids were playing, so they didn't notice me until I was almost on top of them.

"But I wanna dig a hole," Jeremy was whining.

"I know, honey, but we don't have a shovel," she was saying, "this is the best we can do."

"Maybe you can use my shovel, Jeremy," I interjected. Mother and son turned towards the voice as I walked up and handed Jeremy the bag of toys. "I'll be you can find some things to dig with in here."

Jeremy tore the bag open and found a shovel. In no time he was happily digging himself to China.