"WHAT?" cried Lucia. "A porn star?"
"Sssh!" said Lisa. "Let's talk about it back in the cabin."
After dinner, the two women made their way back to the cabin they shared. Lisa put on the gown she had slung on the bed before, while Lucia produced from her bag a slinky, skintight black number.
"Wow, that's nice," remarked Lisa.
"Yeah, thanks," said Lucia. "I've got a lot like that -- I'm a samba dancer."
"Awesome," said Lisa, rather taken by the dress. She could use one of those.
"So tell me the story," said Lucia, sitting down on her bed.
So Lisa told it. How she had been sexually abused by her father at 8 years of age, dropped out of school at 14, got in trouble with the law with drugs, become a topless model when a deadbeat boyfriend suggested it, then had been headhunted by a Playboy scout to work in one of their nightclubs. A customer there suggested she do a couple of porn movies, then she had decided to get out to work in a strip club. Then she had got bored with the sleazy punters and had taken the Social Hostess job to move up and out.
"The thing is, some creep at the office let on about my background to the ship's crew and now the Captain and the Greek deck officers onboard no longer respect me."
"Hmph." Lucia was still reeling from the story.
"At first they tried to come onto me, thinking I was available. They basically treated me like a hooker and I refused. So now they're bitter that they can't get some action and tell everybody how terrible I am, make gross jokes about me behind my back and -- well, you get the picture."
"Huh." Wow, this was something else, thought Lucia. A worry began in her mind. "Like, is this actually dangerous? Do I need to watch out -- you know, seriously, like, am I looking at rape and stuff?"
Lisa thought about this. From her level of experience, she shook her head. "No. I mean, just avoid the Greek officers. They're just a bunch of married men, cheating on their wives -- just another misogynistic crowd of losers, like any bunch of punters at a strip club who haven't got a chance. They'll harass and try to touch but there are none that are actually violent, scary or dangerous."
Lucia breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to know."
"You need to get ready," remarked Lisa, standing up.
"Yeah, you're right," agreed Lucia. "I'll get in the shower."
It was seven o'clock and the Rendezvous Lounge was on the 4th. floor. A small metallic dancefloor close to the bandstand at the front served as a stage, while rows of seats formed a semicircle around it. The Jazz Band were playing their set as Lisa and Lucia climbed the main staircase one level higher than the Pursers Office. Lisa was wearing her purple evening gown. Crinoline, with puff sleeves, a deep V bra pushing up her breasts into a fitted body, followed by elegant folds flowing out from the waist to end at her ankles. High-heeled strappy shoes, some amethyst earrings and styled, wavy hair completed her look. Lucia's hair was long, black, and swept off her face, behind her ears. Her little black dress featured shoulder straps that graced her beautiful neck and shoulders. The thin material caressed her full, round breasts and deep cleavage, then clung to her toned, tight abdomen, before wrapping around her trained thighs, revealing her tanned, long, dancer's legs, ending at some strappy high heels. She wore silver earrings and her exquisite face was made up with blood-red lipstick, long, mascara-ed eyelashes and just a touch of glitter.
The two of them sashayed into the Rendezvous Lounge and turned abruptly right into the back room that functioned as a dressing room for the talent who would be performing in the evening show.
In the middle of the small room stood Dave Richards, the Cruise Director. Six feet tall, with greying hair, his once-handsome face was somewhat lined with the fifty-something years of life he had seen. Still, he was in reasonably good shape and hadn't developed the embarrassing pot-bellied "dad bod" so many other men of his age had succumbed to. A Vietnam Veteran, he had learned fast back in the jungle that you needed to be fit to survive -- not just the four minutes of combat that other men survived before they took a bullet, but the whole battle, plus the war, too. Standing there in his tuxedo for the evening, he adjusted his black bowtie in the mirror, while two dancing girls in slinky, glittery dresses touched up their make-up in front of him. He looked up when Lisa walked in, with an expectant, show-me raised eyebrow.
"Lisa, you're on in ten minutes -- don't screw it up," he began. He saw Lucia and his eyes widened, his demeanour changed. "Well, who do we have here?" He took in Lucia's tumbling tresses, shimmering olive skin, sinuous body that seemed stuck on the thin, black dress she wore, the fullness of her bust and long, muscled, graceful legs. Wow, he thought. If he was about thirty years younger...
"This is Lucia," explained Lisa. "From Brazil -- she's the new Social Hostess."
Dave stuck out a hand. "Dave Richards -- Cruise Director."
"Otherwise known as -- your boss," interjected Lisa.
Lucia smiled and took his hands, giving him her full, fifty-thousand kilowatt smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Richards," she began.
"Dave -- please! No last names here," replied Dave, smiling.
"Dave," repeated Lucia. He seemed warm, firm, authoritative.
He turned to Lisa. "Lisa -- go to greet the guests at the Rendezvous door as they come in. I'll MC the show at the start like normal, but later I want you to intro the dancers."
"Right," replied Lisa, noncommittally. She turned swiftly around and walked out, glancing over her shoulder at Lucia. "See ya," she remarked.
Lucia turned to her as she left, smiling at Lisa. "Later," she replied.
Dave Richards cleared his throat and Lucia turned to him. "Right, has Lisa filled you in on your job responsibilities?"
"Pretty much. She told me most of it over dinner in the Mess."
"OK," said the Cruise Director. "We're a little understaffed this cruise. We've got these two dancers here -" he jerked his thumb behind him at the two women making up their faces behind him - "but no male dancer 'til next Canaveral day. I heard from shoreside that you have dancing experience."
"Yeah," replied Lucia, brightening up to her favourite topic. "I've won various awards in samba in Rio at local level, plus some regional."
"Great," Richards went on. "The thing is, these girls here are professional."
"Oh, well, so am I. I've been paid money for prizes."
"Really? Any club work or theatre?"
