The Pleasure Cruise

This is the first chapter in a planned four-part series. As always, I thank my editor Ravenna933, whose eye for detail, imagination, and insight into the female psyche made this story significantly stronger and more cohesive.

*****

Of all the people and all the doorsteps in the world, the last person I expected to see drunk and heartbroken on mine one autumn evening was Lauren Kovalenko. Perhaps I should explain. Lauren has been my best friend for years. The idea she'd lean on a friend in a time of need probably sounds normal, except for two things.

One of those things is Lauren - she's the archetypal tough girl. She's always dealt with her emotions on her own. She's walled-off at the best of times, and while she's told me many times that she's let me in deeper than anyone else she's ever known, and while I believe her, there are still parts of her personality that I don't think anyone has ever been allowed to see.

The second thing is the doorstep. It's attached to my modest house in a leafy Toronto suburb, and Lauren being there unexpectedly and unannounced as I got home from work one day was a big surprise, given that she lives in Vancouver, a good 4,500 km away. I hadn't seen her in person in over a year, and then, all of a sudden, here she was.

"Lauren? Fucking hell, are you okay?" She was sitting in one of my porch chairs, a nearly-empty bottle of whisky on my table, and a large suitcase stashed neatly in the corner near my front door. She looked tired and defeated, slouching as she eyed the remaining whisky in the bottle. Her black leather jacket was unzipped, revealing a red t-shirt and jeans, and sad, bloodshot eyes that met mine as she registered my presence. She smiled weakly.

"Hey, Sean. I thought I'd drop in on you."

"You know you're always welcome, but... what the fuck?"

"Can we go inside?" Lauren sat up with some effort. "I've been sitting out here drinking for two hours and I really need to pee." She gestured at the nearly-empty bottle.

I quickly unlocked the door and Lauren made a beeline for the bathroom, appearing slightly wobbly on her feet as I moved her suitcase inside. The thing must have weighed 50 pounds.

Shortly she reappeared, her face less splotchy. She appeared to have tried to clean herself up a little. "So, do you want to hear a story? It's a shitty story, but it's a story."

"Let me hug you first." I gathered her in my arms, smelling the liquor emanating from her body as she squeezed me hard. She held the hug for several moments and I felt her breathing, slowly, her blonde and pink hair filling my field of vision.

At last she pulled back and wandered over to the couch. "Rolf and I broke up."

"I'm sorry. He seemed like he meant something to you."

"He did, in spite of myself." She groaned.

"Is that why you're here?" I asked. "Did you fly all this way just to talk to me?"

"I love you, but don't flatter yourself." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Did I ever tell you that I thought he was the one?"

"No," I answered honestly.

"Good, because I don't think I ever really believed it myself," she said, thinking. "But I was trying to convince myself. I mean, have you ever known me to wait through six months of long distance for someone? To be

monogamous

and wait for someone for six months?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised, a little," I answered.

"God, I'm such an idiot." She grabbed the bottle and took a swig, leaving only a little bit left, then handed it to me. "Finish it so I stop," she ordered. I took it from her and poured it down my throat, feeling the delicious burning warmth.

"I don't remember what I've already told you, so I'll start at the beginning." She took a breath. "Rolf and I met nine months ago, at a punk show at the Commodore Ballroom. He was in Vancouver recording an album with his band. He was a good guy. Outgoing, charming, had the air of danger but was kind and caring underneath the bad boy exterior. He knew how to talk to women. He knew how to listen. He was hot. He was a good fuck.

"After three months, the band had finished recording, and I was totally prepared to go our separate ways. We'd been casually dating, but, I mean, I've never settled down with anyone before and I was prepared to let it go. But the last night he was in town, right before leaving to mix the album and the leave on tour, he took me out for an incredible dinner at Vij's, the best Indian restaurant in Canada, and told me he really liked me and wanted to be together. He was looking at getting a place in Vancouver and if I'd wait for him, we could be together when the tour ended. He said his bandmates wouldn't have been okay with having a girlfriend on tour, which, fair enough, right? I don't want to be Yoko Ono anyway. But we were going to meet up in Toronto tonight, which is the last night of the tour. They're playing at the Danforth Music Hall tonight. So, I got into town this afternoon and went straight to the venue to see him, and guess what?"

"What?"

"He'd been cheating on me the entire time he was on tour. Sleeping around with bitches in every city, plus he actually had a tour girlfriend that was travelling with the band. She was supposed to go home last night, but she whined and put up such a stink that apparently, he somehow thought he was going to figure out how to keep us both separate at the same show tonight.

"The worst part about this isn't even the cheating. You know me, you know I generally don't do monogamy well anyway. I'd have been fine with him fucking every groupie he could get his hands on, as long as he wasn't lying to me. But

he

wanted this. He wanted a monogamous relationship. He wanted me to wait for him. I liked him enough to give it a try, even though it wasn't what I wanted. Six months, I've been faithful to him. I haven't been celibate this long since I was a teenager. I was supposed to get laid tonight, and then we were supposed to leave on vacation tomorrow." Lauren groaned in frustration.

"That explains the big suitcase," I observed. "Where were you going on holiday?"

"A cruise. We were going to sail tomorrow out of Fort Lauderdale and hit a few Eastern Caribbean ports. I don't even remember which ones, and it's not like it mattered anyway, we were just going for the relaxation, the warm weather, and the party. That's part of why I'm here on your doorstep. I didn't tell you I was coming in advance because I wasn't supposed to have had time to see you before we left tomorrow, and then I'm flying back straight to Vancouver."

"Are you still going to go?"

"Well," she said smiling broadly for the first time since she'd seen me. "I booked the whole thing, and I took out cancellation insurance, so I can make changes to the reservation. When I found out he was cheating, I called the airline and the cruise line and changed it to your name. Do you want to come with me, so that I don't have to go on a holiday for two by myself? My treat. It's all sunk cost at this point anyway."

"Uhhhh..." I was speechless. "I'm supposed to work tomorrow?"

"Oh, come on, you run your own division now," she said, pleadingly. "You've told me your staff are so well-trained now they practically run the place without you. When was the last time you went on vacation?"

I thought, trying to remember.

"That's what I thought. You're coming with me. I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Okay." I frantically ran through my schedule for the week ahead, checking dates of appointments in my phone, and realized there was nothing happening I couldn't miss or re-book. I called my secretary and let her know I wouldn't be in for a week, and I got her assurance she'd take care of rebooking everything. "Done. Okay, let's go on a cruise. I've never been on one before."

"Yay!" Lauren hugged me. "It's been over a year since we've seen each other. I've missed you, Sean. I love the idea of spending a week away with you."

She released me and took her jacket off, revealing she was wearing a band t-shirt with Rolf's band name on it. "Before we start packing, we need to have an exorcism."

She quickly peeled off the shirt, revealing a dangerously sexy sheer black bra underneath.

"Nice bra. Very hot."

"Thanks, it's got matching panties and it's my favourite. I was supposed to get laid tonight." She sighed again, then noticed me staring at the outlines of her nipples through the fabric. "Come on, Sean, how many times have you seen my tits before?" She playfully punched my arm.

"That's not the point. "You've got nice tits, and I haven't been laid in over six months either."

"Yeah, but I at least have an excuse." She gathered up the shirt, walking over to my fireplace and tossing it in. Lauren skillfully heaped some kindling and a fire log into a mound and lit it with a Zippo lighter out of her purse, then stood back, watching the flames grow and gradually consume the shirt. I put my arm around her, and she snuggled in, silently rapt as the fire grew.

"Goodbye, Rolf, you motherfucker," she said quietly.

Lauren then changed into pyjamas, and she spent the rest of the evening helping me unexpectedly pack my suitcase for a cruise. When I went to bed, Lauren stayed up, her mind and body still three hours behind on Pacific time. When I last saw her, she was staring sadly at her phone as I disappeared up the stairs to my bedroom.

***

Our mid-morning flight the next day was uneventful, apart from the hassle of ferrying a hungover Lauren to the airport at what felt like far too early of an hour to her. Lauren had booked everything in advance, so we went seamlessly from Toronto to Fort Lauderdale to a bus to the seaport to the ship. I'd never been on a cruise before, but Lauren had been on several, and so I let her lead once she'd finally woken for the day on final approach to Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport.

Our ship was the

Carnival Liberty,

100,000 tons of gaudy excess floating at the Fort Lauderdale pier among six other ships belonging to various cruise lines. We were late checking in, and the arrival hall was nearly deserted as we dropped off our suitcases, cleared passport control, then went up several escalators to a gangway and boarded the ship.

Our cabin was midship on the seventh deck. Lauren had explained that midship was best for minimizing the pitch and roll motion of the ship if the sea grew rough, and a middle deck was better than one directly above or below a public space to minimize the ambient noise. We finally found our room in a long hallway, starboard side, and entered to find ample cupboard space, a TV, a large window with a door overlooking an ocean-view balcony, a small cubicle-sized bathroom with shower stall, and a double bed bearing a small plate of strawberries and chocolate.

I caught Lauren's eye and she blushed, walking over and reading the card.

"It's from my friend Tanya, and it basically says congrats on the sex." She grunted in frustration. "I can't fucking believe the dry spell is going to continue."

"It doesn't have to," I pointed out. "There's gotta be lots of men on board looking for a hookup."

"Sure," she answered, "but we'd have to go back to their room, not ours, since I'm not making you wait out in the hall with a sock on the door, not when I've invited you along. If all I had wanted was to fuck a different man every night, I'd have come alone. If sex happens, great. But it's not why I'm here. So, we'll see what happens."

We relaxed in the room and took turns in the shower getting clean, went through the mandatory muster drill on deck, then the ship slowly left port and steamed out into the Atlantic. Lauren and I watched the shore recede as we passed through the mouth of the harbour, then she announced she was going down to the cabin for a nap.

"I'm not tired. I think I'd like to explore the ship," I said.

"OK, just make sure you sign into the shipboard messaging system so I can reach you if I need to. There's no cell signal at sea, but if you connect to the onboard wi-fi, you can message anyone on board as long as you have their name and cabin number." She messaged me from her phone, and I saw the notification pop up. "It's a good way to keep track of each other, and we'll make new friends on board easily enough."

Lauren disappeared into the stairwell, and I went out to see what the

Carnival Liberty

had to offer. Most of the action was concentrated on the top of the ship and on decks 3-5, with the top deck, or Lido, hosting the ship's cafeteria, two pools, hot tubs, spa, a basketball court and a gym. Decks 3-5 were where most of the indoor bars were, along with being where the ship's casino, shopping, theatre and restaurant were located. I stayed outside for a while, enjoying the hot sunshine, people-watching, and seeing the Florida shoreline gradually receding behind us. The crowd on board the ship seemed to be right in our demographic, mostly couples ranging from their 20's to their 60's. There were also quite a few groups of young men and women, but precious few children, which suited me fine - we'd seen a Disney Cruise Line ship in port earlier and I assumed that the young families were all aboard that ship. Which, fine by me, I was thrilled by how few children were on board.

Lauren had booked an unlimited drinks package for her and Rolf, so I was already a few cocktails in by the time I made it back to our room. She was sitting out on the balcony in a bikini, nose buried in a book. She looked beautiful, the sunshine reflecting in her Ray-Bans and her nose stud. Her skin was flawless apart from tattoos on each ankle and her shoulder. Her blonde and pink hair practically glowed in the early evening sun. Her figure easily filled out her green and yellow bikini - while we'd both gained a few pounds since our college days, she had put it on evenly and flatteringly. The girl I'd known at nineteen was almost too skinny, with boobs that disproportionately jutted out of her chest and made finding clothes that fit nearly impossible, but she now had a more balanced figure, with full hips and a pleasant curve to her stomach. An empty fruity tropical drink sat on the table beside her, cocktail umbrella laying sadly to the side.

"How was exploring?" she asked as I came out onto the balcony. She moved her feet off the second chair and motioned for me to sit.

"Interesting. The ship seems pretty cool."

"All Carnival ships are pretty much the same," she said. "But yeah, it's good to be here. I love feeling the ship's movement, smelling the sea air, feeling the sunshine. I was thinking of going and sitting in the hot tub for a bit. Do you want to come?"

"Sure." We moved inside together, and I noticed for the first time that my suitcase was sitting on the bed. "The porters must have delivered it. Did you get yours?"

"I already unpacked," she responded. "The bags get stored under the bed. I saved you half the closet and drawer space."

I spent the next few minutes unpacking and stowing my clothes wherever I could find space for them. Once that was done, I grabbed my favourite of the two bathing suits I'd packed, a red one with blue and gold, and quickly started stripping down as Lauren watched with undisguised interest.

"Typical, first dick I've seen in six months and it's

yours

," she scoffed, playfully, as I dropped my trousers.

"You've seen the best, now see the rest?" I kept moving, quickly pulling on my suit.

"Something like that." She licked her lips as she grabbed a bottle of sunscreen and started applying it, and we did each other's backs before heading up on deck.

A few hours later, the sun had set, and we were due for a late dinner in the restaurant, our seating being 8:15 nightly. We dressed and presented ourselves to the maître d' for our table, and we wound up being seated at a six-top table where we introduced ourselves to our tablemates.

Emily and Danielle were recent college graduates from Ohio, both in their early twenties, pretty, perky, intelligent, and energetic. They'd been best friends since high school, and they had that mental connection and understanding common to two long-time female friends, where they both understood each other intimately and could somehow communicate without speaking to each other. Emily was the more outgoing of the two; skinny, petite, olive complexion befitting a heritage I guessed was Italian-American. She was dark-haired with auburn highlights, wore glasses, and had a chipper, charismatic air about her that made me like her immediately. Even on an informal cruise night she was still impeccably-dressed and made up. She talked a great deal about her boyfriend, Milos, whose name she pronounced in the Czech way, as Mee-loash.

Danielle was quieter, and seemed to hang on her friend's conversation, chipping in when she had something to say. She was baby-faced, with brown eyes and shoulder-length light brown hair she'd pulled up into a loose ponytail, a small, upturned nose, and a dimple in the middle of her chin. She had a mole on her upper lip that reminded me a little bit of Cindy Crawford, and I resolved not to mention this to her as a means of avoiding making myself seem unbearably old to a girl fifteen years my junior. She was very pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, and she had a slightly raspy voice I found sexy. Her eyes betrayed some inner melancholy I didn't quite understand, and my initial impression of her was that she was dealing with some major life event or crisis, perhaps a recent death in the family or something, though she didn't share any details at the table. I felt overwhelmingly like giving her a hug, though I obviously held back.

Miguel and Alejandra were a couple from Texas, Hispanic, roughly in their mid-30's like Lauren and I. Both first-generation Americans born in Colombia, he had a heavier accent and was seemingly content to let his wife do most of the talking in English. His quiet nature made it hard to get a read on his personality, but I picked up that he was a surveyor, and had a bit of a rough-around-the-edges air about him. He was built like a tank, squat and muscular, and I noticed Emily in particular eying him when he wasn't looking.

Alejandra was an optician, and she was an embodiment of many Colombian female stereotypes - gorgeous, highly-strung, opinionated, and friendly. She did more talking than anyone else at our table in barely-accented English, and flaunted the designer labels on her clothes, purse, and sunglasses. She seemed to have something of a 'tell it like it is' attitude, and over the course of dinner I learned more than I needed to about her daughter, her family, and her marriage. Alejandra mentioned several times that they were trying to have more children, though judging by her wine consumption at dinner there was no chance she was pregnant.

As dinner was served, the conversation moved on to us.

"So how long have you two been together?" asked Danielle.

Lauren and I exchanged a glance. "We're not together," she responded.

"Friends?"

"We're friends, yeah. If you'd like to hear how we met, we can tell you," I offered.

"Yeah!" Emily and Danielle cheered us on.

I took a breath. "We met during the summer between the second and third year of university. Lauren had been booked together with Michelle, my girlfriend at the time, on a package tour, one of those 'drink your way across Europe with a bunch of other college kids' summer tour groups. All three of us were students at University of Toronto at the time."

"I did one of those last summer," Emily shared. "We went to Spain, France, Italy... I think we went to Germany too? I was pretty drunk most of the time."

"Sounds about like my trip," Lauren admitted. "Sean wasn't on it, but when we got home from Europe, I wanted to meet Michelle's boyfriend, since she talked about you a lot on that trip. That's when I met you for the first time."