1. I'm sorry if this is more story than erotica. I never intended for this to be super hot from the beginning, unlike my other stories on here. Unlike my SaviorSamurai account's stories too.
2. Since there won't be a lot of chapters, this story will be pretty fast-paced.
3. I assure you, each character will get their times to shine.
4. Lots of crazy unbelievable events may happen in this, but please cooperate with me and suspend your disbelief as much as Family Guy's love for cutaways.
*****
Irene Bianchi lied in a bunk bed, a sheet shrouding her body, Tucker's snores above her meeting her ears.
An empty bed was above Tucker's, unoccupied, like Irene's love life.
Carlos had decided to make the group sleep for two hours before hunting the ship's rumored gold.
But Carlos was a leader whose command went heard by Irene, but not accepted.
Irene longed to explore the ship by herself, find the gold before Carlos did. Take some for herself, with Carlos being unaware.
It was as risky as masturbating in the bathroom with the lights off, door unlocked, relatives chattering inside the home.
But eighteen-year old Irene had a Italian mafia man as her dad.
A Italian mobster's daughter wasn't meant to be a personified pussy.
She had to take risks.
After peeking through a gap she made between her bed sheet and bed, Irene stared through her large-framed glasses at Jenna, who slept in the bed above the brown-haired Stacie's.
There had been moments involving Stacie holding onto Jenna more times than Stacie held her own boyfriend, who was no longer Jenna's lover.
Irene shook her head. She longed to say, "Don't fall in love with her, darling."
The glasses-donning, Italian-American shifted her focus to Devon, the eighteen-year old Black boy who slept with a silver revolver in his pocket.
Devon had been the person walking closest to Carlos, the two gun-toting minority males the greatest protectors the group had.
Regardless, Irene would use Devon's revolver to send a bullet penetrating into each person's skull on the ship without hesitation, if it meant insuring her own survival.
She had to check on Carlos, determine if he was awake or asleep.
The adult in the group made his younger companions sleep in one of the body bag gray-walled, body bag gray-floored bunk rooms, while he enjoyed the supposed lavish environment the captain's quarters gave him.
Irene filled her mind with this fact as she took quick steps, gray walls not far from either side of her.
The door leading into a main corridor was open, ruptured with piercing grooves Irene didn't avert her attention to, since she was intent on reaching the captain's quarters as quick as possible.
Goosebumps resuming their eruptions against her skin, Irene was aware she needed her coat off if she had to make the moment involving grabbing Carlos's cock happen sooner.
At an hall's end, stood a closed brown door. Two blue vases were against the wall the door was installed in. The phrase "Captain's Quarters" was designed onto a metal rectangle secured against the door.
"Perfect." Irene said in Italian, speaking low.
The girl took quicker steps.
