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Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone who read my first story and especially those who left so much encouraging and positive feedback -- I was really overwhelmed with the sheer volume and magnitude of positivity I received. Thank you all so much!
Incidentally, by way of responding to the most common question I received about my first story: No, that story did not happen to me -- but Jessica is my real name, and I do look like the girl in that story. I altered the real "Jessica" (not her real name) to be me, for two reasons -- one, to make it easier to write in the first person, which isn't my most natural mode of writing; and two, well, suffice it to say that if you'd ever met "Diane", you'd know why I love to fantasize about being in "Jessica's" place. Since everyone who read that story got the pleasure (I hope) of hearing it, I got the pleasure of imagining it happening to me for a little while.
Anyway, since things seemed to go pretty well the first time, here's my second story -- this one, unlike the first, is a work of almost complete fiction, and is quite a bit lighter than the first. If you shouldn't be reading adult material, don't read this. Otherwise, please enjoy.
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So...relationships suck, right?
Okay, I'll admit, I was a hopeless romantic. Still am. Back then, though, I was in one of those phases where I wasn't. You know where those phases happen -- right after a relationship rears up and bites you on the ass, right? Pretty much.
I had just broken up with my girlfriend. Nice girl, sweet as hell, but with this pesky habit of hooking up with her ex-boyfriend whenever she got drunk. Really annoying. The first time, I got past it -- I figured, you know, that she was freaking out about getting serious, and so on. The second time, I thought it was really uncalled for, but what can I say, I loved her. The third time, she got pregnant. That pretty much killed the romance for me.
As chance had it, my best friend Caitlyn had just broken up with her boyfriend too -- which really surprised me. She and I had been sharing an apartment since graduating together -- we had shared a dorm in college, and it had worked out pretty well. The apartment was definitely an upgrade from the dorm room -- separate bedrooms were a luxury -- but it was still a pretty cheap place, since neither of us was making much money yet. Cheap, as in thin walls. Very thin. Tissue paper. If I'd rubbed something greasy on the walls, they would have turned transparent.
For night after night, I'd have to listen to her and her boyfriends. Don't get me wrong -- I can totally understand why men were always around -- Caitlyn's a knockout. About eight inches taller than I am -- almost six feet tall. Dirty blonde hair to her shoulders, green eyes, and a great body -- she was the star of the college swim team. To her credit, she wasn't easy -- she put those boys through hell before she let them in her bed -- but once they were there, they certainly weren't in hell anymore. Caitlyn, as far as I could tell without ever having watched, was loud, responsive, and creative. When you hear shock in a former college quarterback's voice at what a girl's doing in bed -- well, I can't even guess.
My romantic life, on the other hand, involved far less fireworks. I've been told I'm pretty, which is good enough for me. I'm short and wiry, with very dark hair but big light blue eyes, a startling combination I've always liked. I'm slim, but with enough curves that, in T-shirt and jeans, I look like a girl. Again, good enough for me. I've refused to wear a skirt or a dress since I was ten. I played tennis and field hockey, and wore my hair boy-short until I graduated college. I've always been relatively feminine, but needless to say, I was never really "in the closet".
Anyway, after my latest breakup, I decided I wanted to get away for a while. Since Caitlyn had just broken up too...hold on, that reminds me. I hadn't figured out yet why Caitlyn had broken up with her boyfriend. They'd been going out for more than six months, and rather than just a lot of "oh, baby" and "don't stop" from her bedroom at night, I'd been hearing a lot of "oh god, I love you" and "yes, darling, more, more". Then it was over. I figured the usual would happen: she'd pretend it was mutual, then have a drink or two and sob to me about how he dumped her -- or how she found him chained to the wall being whipped by his sixty-year-old gay lover. Not kidding.
So I wanted to get away for a while -- at least long enough so that my ex-girlfriend could figure out I didn't want to see ultrasound pictures -- and Caitlyn was in the same place, so we found a trip we could take together where we would be totally isolated from the world for a while. We flew out to the Caribbean, and found Ellis Tours.
Ellis Tours was really just a couple with a boat who wanted to make money cruising around the islands they loved anyway, so they would take on a half-dozen passengers or so and float around the Caribbean for a few weeks. They gave us a great deal -- apparently, they saw a lot of recently broken-up passengers on their boat.
Oh, by the way, if you want to know more about their boat, don't ask me. I don't know much about boats. It was big. It seemed to be made largely of wood, and it had some number of sails. We didn't actually "sail" very often -- apparently, it moved slower when using its engine, and a slow cruise was the whole point, so Carla and Don didn't use the actual sails much. A boat with a motor and a steering wheel doesn't take that much of a crew, either, so we weren't expected to contribute much other than untying the occasional rope or turning a crank or whatever. I didn't pay much attention. I wouldn't have picked a boat, myself -- they're obviously not really my thing -- but Caitlyn had always wanted to take a cruise, so there we were.
Carla and Don Ellis owned the boat -- she was Latina of some variety, and gorgeous. Tall, leggy, dark hair, medium-dark skin, big grin. Don was white under his tan, and built like a linebacker. Tall, huge shoulders, powerful build. Surprisingly for a man that size, he was actually pretty sweet -- quiet, calm, and upbeat, as though he were the biggest, strongest high school guidance counselor that ever lived. They were a great couple -- very much in love, constantly touching and kissing.
Our fellow passengers were a pretty mixed little group. Robert was just a middle-aged man on vacation -- he seemed like a lawyer, or a stock broker, or something. Tim was a college student working on some kind of research project -- at least, that's what he claimed. I think he was just one of those enterprising types who found a way to get college credit for going on vacation. Lucy was a tiny girl -- even shorter than I am -- with the darkest skin I'd ever seen, but big soft pretty eyes and a shy smile. I admit that she caught my eye right away -- but I wasn't here to rebound.
Oh, and there was Chris, too -- Chris was a skinny redheaded girl with a thick Irish brogue and a great laugh, but she had a fiancé back home. Apparently, there was also a friend who was supposed to come with her, but didn't show. Chris decided to go anyway, since her tickets were non-refundable. I applauded the instinct -- even if unavailable, she was pretty, and I've always had a thing for an Irish accent. Then again, who doesn't?
We all got on the boat, with the usual round of introductions and small talk, and found cabins. Aside from the master suite where Don and Carla slept, there were two double cabins and two smaller cabins -- closets, really, with bunks in them. No one much cared -- we'd only be sleeping there, after all. Robert and Tim, as the only other men on board, took one of the doubles, while Caitlyn and Chris shared the other -- Lucy was shy about sharing a room, and Caitlyn and I hadn't flown several thousand miles just to share a tiny room again, so she was happy to stay with Chris. The two of them hit it off right away. Lucy and I had the single cabins to ourselves.
As the boat left the little port -- a lovely little seaside town with a great many smiling people, which is a very nice way to start a voyage -- we all changed. The men just wore their swim trunks all the time, of course, while Caitlyn and Chris wore bikinis with tank tops or light t-shirts over them. Lucy and I wore thin shirts and shorts, what I called our "boat clothes", as opposed to what we wore to go swimming. I'd brought a swimsuit, as had Lucy, but didn't want to lie around in it for days on end.
So the eight of us sailed -- or cruised, or whatever -- out onto the big bright blue ocean, with a lovely sunny day beaming down on us. Within minutes of lying on the deck chatting with everyone, I felt months of tension draining away. There is no feeling quite like being in the middle of nowhere with interesting people and absolutely nothing else to do.
After several hours, Chris and Caitlyn had settled in for some serious sunbathing, while Lucy was playing cards with Robert and Tim and Don, and I found myself sitting with Carla near the little room where all the boat's controls are. Again, don't ask -- there were levers and wheels and buttons, and some lights. That's about all I know. If we'd hit a storm or something and I'd had to steer the boat for more than three seconds, we wouldn't have survived.
"...and things just obviously weren't going to work out," I finished the long, depressing story of my breakup -- believe me, the abbreviated version you've heard is quite enough.
Carla shook her head. "Some people never learn," she sighed. "We had a nice couple out here last time who were trying to patch things up after one of those. I don't think either of them spent a night in their own cabin -- or with each other -- the whole trip."
I laughed. "How efficient -- they got their rebounds out of the way while they were still in the middle of the relationship."
She laughed as well -- I liked her laugh. Very soft but very open and friendly, and her brown eyes sparkled when she laughed. "Tell me this, though -- why did a smart girl like you give her three chances?"
I winced. "I'm probably too romantic for my own good."
