The Best Good Deed Ever

The first time I saw her, I was sitting at my assigned table in the ship's dining room. As she walked in the door, it struck me that she was perfect airline stewardess material. A small, slim body with heart-shaped hips, built to saunter down the aisle in a tight, blue Pan-Am skirt while she asked, "Would you like a drink, sir?" And breasts just large enough to rest your eyes comfortably upon, but without getting in the way as she bent down to delicately place a martini in front of you.

"Now I want you all to get to know your tablemates," the captain said from the stage as the girl sat down next to me. "You'll be eating with them every day for the next week as we cruise the Caribbean. Many good friendships have been forged around these tables. In fact, a few of our passengers have even fallen in love."

"Aww, that's sweet," said the girl. "Of course, I've already fallen in love." She leaned over to the boy sitting next to her (whom I had not noticed walking in with her, such was the splendor of her entrance) and gave him a big kiss on the lips. The expression on the boy's face looked like he had just won the lottery.

"I guess I'll start!" said the girl, standing up. "I'm Faye. And Ted and I just got married!"

Everyone at the table smiled and clapped.

"And I mean JUST GOT MARRIED!" she squealed. "How long's it been, Teddy?"

Ted looked at his watch. "Two hours and thirty-seven minutes."

My eyebrows went up. They looked so young. Did people really marry so early these days? I mean, it's the 1950s. There's so much more to do in life. But here they were, stamped and approved by the state.

Then another thought crossed my mind. If they'd only been married two hours, and they had managed to get from the city to the ship and then to this table, they had in all likelihood not consummated their union yet. Unless, of course, they had jumped the matrimonial gun. I looked them over. No, they didn't seem like the type. Both looked as if they came from small-town America--she in her cotton dress and he in his white shirt and black slacks, like he was heading for a job as a soda jerk. The girl looked as innocent as the morning, and, as I have already pointed out, delicious. I wondered how much of one of those perfect tits Ted would suck into his mouth that night as his hard cock slid--

"Ted! You want to go next?"

I jolted out of my reverie to see Faye beaming down at her new husband. I was startled at the thoughts I'd been having about her. I mean, at many points in my life, I have certainly thought as a man and... acted as a man. But not for the past few years. I had been so focused on my studies. Perhaps this cruise was already starting to affect me.

I looked at Ted and squelched a laugh. His thoughts must have been going along the same track mine had been because there was a pole in his pants. He slid a napkin off the table and pressed it to his lap. Then he grabbed a glass of water and chugged it until some went down the wrong pipe. Coughing, he waved his hand and pointed at me. Smooth, Ted.

So, I stood up. "My name is actually... Ted." I said. "Ted Argus." I saw Faye's face turn up at me with a look of astonishment. She kept staring at me as I spoke. "I'm on this cruise as a celebration for finishing my doctorate." Everyone clapped politely and I bowed. I really was pleased. I had devoted so many years to it, and here I was, finally graduated.

"So, you're a doctor?" Faye asked.

"Of psychiatry," I clarified.

"Wow!" she breathed. "Lucky us!"

I sat down, and the next person stood up and began to talk. Faye leaned over to me. As I turned to face her, I caught my breath. She had such lovely features, such an open, trusting face. Her eyes invited me in as if we had known each other for years, and her lips were a perfect cupid's bow. I'll bet every boy in her high school wanted to kiss them.

"Since you're a doctor. I should tell you about my weird condition, just in case," she whispered. "When I fall asleep, it's impossible for someone to wake me up. I just wake up whenever I wake up. And," she continued, "I sleepwalk. So, if you see me roaming the ship at night, I'll trust you to get me back to where I'm supposed to be." She giggled, but I could see that she was half serious.

"And you know what else?" she said. "Listen to Teddy when he talks. He sounds just like you!"

Soon, Ted stood up. I closed my eyes, and, sure enough, he sounded familiar, though he talked more quickly and used slang that wasn't in my personal vocabulary. How odd, to share both a name and voice with this fellow.

That afternoon, just an hour or so after the opening lunch, I was sunning myself on the deck, feeling slightly self-conscious about my pasty white, hospital-tanned body, but loving the way the sun felt on my skin. It had been too long. I opened my eyes, and there was Faye, carrying a bottle of suntan oil and walking toward me in--my heart leapt--a bikini. It was obviously new, and she looked as if she didn't quite know how to wear it, as if she had put it on using a swimsuit ad in Vanity Fair for reference. But it nonetheless displayed her charms. Dark sunglasses hiding my eyes, I drank her in. Those strong, lean legs. Those girlish, swaying hips. That small space, like the round top of a keyhole, between her thighs where they reached her vulva. And yes, those young breasts, so unaware of the ecstasy they caused just by existing. What would happen if you could touch them? Hold them? Lick them? For just a moment, I allowed myself to imagine she was mine. That she was walking to me. That I could sit up and take her hand. That I could reach out and--

Ted trotted up behind her and grabbed her around the waist.

"Hey, Baby," he said, nuzzling her neck. "We're just hitting the first island now. Wanna come walk around with me?"

I could see her eyes and realized that she actually didn't want to go with him. After a small hesitation, she spoke. "Oh, Baby," she said. "You go on without me. I wanna..." she turned around and looked deeply into his eyes, "you know, rest... for later." A shy smile flitted across her face. I could see Ted's lightbulb turn on. In fact, it exploded. Just like Ted's cock wanted to. Inside that girl.

"OK, Babe," he said. "See you in a few hours." He backed away, stumbling a little, amazed at the grand prize the universe had bestowed upon him, and then turned and walked toward the gangplank, adjusting his pants as he went.

Then, to my astonishment, Faye turned, walked up, and sat down on the cabana chair next to mine. She looked at me for a moment, tilting her head as if she were trying to figure something out. Finally, she said, "Um. Dr. Argus?" I turned to her, and she jumped a little. "Oh, you ARE awake.... Hi!"

"How are you?" I asked, a little bewildered.

"Oh, you know," she said, stretching and giving me a nice view of her smooth midriff as it tapered down to her hips. "Happiest day of my life."

"Indeed," I replied. "May you have a long and satisfying marriage."

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

She leaned back on her chair and seemed to be thinking. She kept taking in breaths as if about to speak, but never quite got any words out. I used the time to take a leisurely look at the profile of her breasts. I realized how long it had been since I had noticed such a thing.

"Got something on your chest?" I finally asked. I mentally kicked myself for committing such a blatant Freudian slip, but she didn't seem to notice.

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Can you... look at something for me?"

"Well, I'm not--"

"I know. You're just a new doctor. But I really... really..."

I suddenly realized that she was holding back tears. I sat up and turned toward her. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"Can we go somewhere private? Like to my cabin? -- Oh, wait. It's like a cupboard in there. How big is your cabin?"

As it happened, I had splurged. My cabin had a double bed, a desk and chair, and even a private bathroom.

"Can we use that instead?" she asked.

I blinked a few times. Going into my cabin with this beautiful young thing seemed like a breach of social etiquette. Ted, at least, would frown on it.

She saw my hesitation. "Please?" she said. "This is really important."

"Alright," I said, standing up. "But keep this just between us." She nodded her head vigorously as we got up and walked to my cabin.

I closed the door after we entered, and we stood there awkwardly as our eyes adjusted to the dimness. I won't lie, it was quite erotic to have such a lovely creature standing in a state of semi-undress next to my bed. I was standing a few feet away from her, and, still with my sunglasses on, I let my eyes drift down to her breasts. I imagined reaching out and slipping a shoulder strap off. But the sunglasses did make things awfully dark, and, being so close, I wanted to see details. So I removed them.

"I know you're new," she said, "but you're still a doctor. And I..." She looked up into my eyes, searching. "I trust you."

She put the bottle of suntan oil on the nightstand and then hesitantly grabbed her bikini bottom with both hands. "You're a doctor," she repeated, seemingly to herself. Then she pulled down and let the bit of clothing drop to the floor.

The bikini is one of God's greatest gifts to men. It meets the minimum cultural requirement for coverage but allows the eye to travel languorously up the leg until it meets the tie. But as I found out in that moment, the bikini's removal is an even greater gift. For the eye suddenly knows the glory of traversing the swell of a woman's hips uninterrupted. That gorgeous curve of flesh that surrounds the valley of her--it took every ounce of the discipline I had forged over the past years to keep my eyes on hers. What I would not have given to fall to my knees, take her hips in my hands, and press my face into her softness.

Then, the unthinkable happened. She stepped over to my bed and faced me as she sat down on it. Then she scooted back a little, laid down, and spread her legs. I stood frozen, staring. The Pan-Am stewardess had removed her skirt and panties and had laid herself in front of me. "Would you like a snack, sir?"

"There's something on my..." she started. "Could you look at it?"

I had to take a few breaths before I could answer. "You haven't had your doctor look at it?" I asked, a little shakily.

She blushed. "I'm a good girl. I don't touch myself down there. So I never noticed. But I felt it a little over the past few days, just to make sure it would be good for Ted. And I found a little bump. Is that normal?"

"It depends on where the bump is," I replied, wondering if she had found her clitoris. She was looking at the ceiling, probably embarrassed by the situation, which gave me free rein to run my eyes along her slim waist.

"That's why I need you to look at it. I don't want to give Ted a disease or something. Please, Dr. Argus."

I really wished that I had my hospital coat on rather than just swimming shorts, because something was definitely happening under them, and I had no way to hide it.

"Before we do anything," I said. "Do you know about doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Does that mean you don't tell anyone about my health?" she asked.

"Right. But in this case, since it's such an... unusual situation, it's essential that you also keep what happens here strictly confidential, just between us. Will you agree to that?"

"Of course," she said. "I really appreciate this."

"Alright," I breathed.

A degree in psychiatry comes with a few anatomy classes, so I knew my way around the human body adequately. I walked forward a few steps, more slowly than I needed to, feeling my cock starting to push against my trunks, trying its best to point straight at her. I knelt down and looked where she had told me to. I have always loved the inside of a woman's thighs. In my opinion, they are the smoothest, most caressable curves on her body. But then, of course, there is the place to which they lead. I realized that Faye could not see me at all, so I allowed my mouth drop open as I gazed, letting every last ounce of lust show on my face. I reveled in the simple fact that I was here. That this was happening. That her most private part was only inches away from my face. I may have drooled.

"What do you see?" Her voice startled me, and admittedly, awoke some guilt. I was, after all, here to be a doctor. With some difficulty, I switched modes and looked analytically at her vaginal lips. Indeed, there was a small, slightly discolored spot on one of them.

"May I touch it?" I asked.

"Yes."

I reached up and suddenly realized, "I am the first man to touch this girl's vagina. Not even her husband has touched her here yet." I put my finger to the spot. I pressed on it; I moved it back and forth; I pinched it gently. I wanted to do more. I wanted to use the liberty she had given me, and the naivete she was so obviously harboring, to perhaps open her vagina with my fingers. To feel more of her vulva. To use my other hand to surreptitiously massage my penis as I gazed at her. But she had approached me as a professional. She had put her trust in me. And I did not want to take that lightly.

"Do I look OK?" she asked.

You don't know the half of it, I thought. Ted better appreciate what he's got here. I sure do.

"It's fine," I finally said. "Honestly, if it were on your face, it would be considered a beauty spot."

"Oh!" she sighed. "I'm so relieved! Thank you, Doctor!"

She sat up. I almost stood up myself but realized my shorts were bulging, so I stayed on my knees.

"One more thing?" she said, holding up a finger. "This isn't medical, but it'll be good for my health." She leaned over and grabbed the suntan oil off the nightstand and handed it to me. "Can you put this on my back? I don't want to get a sunburn."

Yes, a sunburn on your back would be rather uncomfortable considering what you'll be up to tonight, I thought.

"Um, as long as doctor-patient confidentiality applies here, too," I said.

"Of course!" she chirped. "I really appreciate it." Then she turned face-down on the bed, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was wearing nothing on her bottom. She reached behind her back and fumbled with the bikini clasp for a few seconds before she finally gave up. "Can you undo that?" she asked.

"Is it necessary?" I asked, uneasily.

"I don't want to get a tan line."

I pinched myself. Was this really happening? "Again, doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Yep! Oh, I feel so good. You took such a load off my mind." She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes.

It was a good thing her eyes were closed because my cock hadn't gone down a bit. It bulged from my shorts as I stood up. I bent over, took her bikini clasp in my fingers, pulled up a little, and released the tiny hooks. As I laid the straps to either side, I sucked in a breath as I saw that this innocent girl was now completely nude. Alone in a room with me. In my bed. Asking me to rub oil into her back. While my cock throbbed above her.

I squeezed some oil into my palm and rubbed my hands together to warm it up. Then I held my hands in front of me, palms down, hovering them over her body, savoring the moment. It occurred to me that I was the first man to stand over this naked body. That I was the man who would stroke her skin first. At her own request.

Sorry, Ted.

And then, the electric moment of skin touching skin. And what skin it was. So smooth, so firm, so silky. I rubbed the oil in gently and slowly, covering every square inch of her back, but scrupulously avoiding her (sweetly curved) buttocks.

After those few moments of quiet, rhythmic ecstasy, I reluctantly took my hands from her body and stood back.

"I'll go into the bathroom and let you get dressed," I said.

She didn't answer. She just laid on my bed, head cradled in her arms, eyes closed.

"Faye?" I said, raising my voice a little. "You're finished."

Still nothing.

I reached down and tapped her shoulder. Then jiggled it.

No response.

My heart jumped in my chest. What was wrong? Was she breathing? I put one hand on her shoulder and one on her hip and pushed her body over, so she was face up. Her eyes were closed. I put my ear to her naked chest and listened. I could hear her heartbeat, and her chest rose and fell gently. I let out a sigh of relief. But still, what was going on?

Then I remembered. "Nobody can wake me up," she had said.

I felt as though a thunderbolt hit me.

Faye's arms were stretched above her in a vulnerable, surrendering pose. Her breasts, so tenderly displayed, were as beautiful as I had imagined them. So pert, so firm, so young. Her pink nipples pointed straight at the ceiling. And, oh, the way her smooth, flat stomach led to her vulva, and the v of her thighs where they plunged into her vagina.

And nothing could wake her up.

It wasn't just raw desire that surged through my body, it was the feeling of power. I was standing over the naked, unconscious form of a beautiful girl, and I could do anything I wanted, so long as I didn't leave a mark. I felt as if I weighed a thousand pounds. I felt light as air. Every cell of me blazed with lust. My body demanded that I partake of this delicate feast laid out before me. My hands twitched, screaming to run themselves with impunity over those luscious breasts, to slide their fingers into that warm, wet orifice, to cup the curve of her waist. My mouth salivated with the anticipation of sucking on those pert little tits, licking that pure, sweet vagina, kissing those slightly parted lips. My cock suggested that it get to personally rub itself over every inch of this girl before finally plunging into her. I imagined pressing her breasts together as I slid my penis between them again and again, perhaps with the help of her suntan oil. I imagined pressing my erection to her lips, perhaps even pulling her mouth open to receive me. I grabbed the top of my shorts, an instant from pulling them down--and suddenly stopped.

"I trust you," she had said.

What did her trust mean to me? What did my role as a doctor mean? Especially in a moment like this?

It was agony. As I gazed at her body, lying so invitingly upon my bed, I realized that it had been years since I had made love to a woman.

At that thought, I started to weep. Because the last woman I had made love to was Elle, my wife. The wife I had loved for only a few years before I lost her to a car accident. God, how I missed her. The only way I had pulled myself out of my misery after her death was by throwing myself into my studies. I had reaped the benefit of my new degree, but, standing here above a woman, I realized how deep my sadness still was. More tears started pouring down my cheeks than I thought was physiologically possible. I cried harder than I ever had before.

"Please," I thought. "May I just lay down and press my body against hers? May I take her in my arms? May I kiss her and whisper loving words? May I remember the warmth and softness of a woman?"

Those questions echoed in me for a long time, until the answer finally came.

I took some clothing from my closet and got dressed in the bathroom, washing my face in the sink and trying to pull myself together. When I got out, Faye was still asleep. With one last look at her beauty, I pulled a blanket over her and left a note on top of her bikini pieces, which I folded at the foot of the bed. "You fell asleep, and I remembered what you had said, so I took a walk. Take as much time as you need." I left my cabin and closed the door behind me.

I honestly thought that would be the last I'd see of Faye. Sure, we'd sit at the same dining table, we'd bump into each other around the ship, but that would be all. At dinner that evening, she touched my shoulder and smiled at me as she walked past to a nearby chair. The rest of the cruise looked as if it would be a solitary one. Which was what I had planned for in the first place.