She wakes up on something soft and luxurious under her body, her bare breasts and legs lying warm against it.
She raises herself to her elbows – her breasts swaying such that only her nipples brush across the softness, which her waking mind vaguely identifies as fur. Her slightly opened eyes can see its colour – white or light beige – in the dim light surrounding her.
"No," she remembers saying to the cute, young guy buying her drinks at the bar in the harbour, "I'm no vegan - I like meat!" She remembers winking at him then, excitedly wondering how far she would go this night, her eyes briefly flitting over the front of his jeans, searching for signs of stiffness there.
Her peripheral vision widens as she opens her eyes, still swaying on her elbows, still softly brushing her nipples over the fur she finds herself prone on. She becomes aware of legs in the dimness, toes all pointed towards her, resting against some seating surrounding her.
She remembers being surprised the drinks were going to her head so fast – she attributed it to the cuteness of the guy.
"You like all kinds of meat?" the guy had asked, winking back.
"Well," she'd said, licking her lips, "tell me what you have in mind."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he'd asked then.
Lights go on – spotlights on a low ceiling above her – and she gasps as she raises herself to her knees in a circle of nude men sitting on seating against the curving wall of a tight, oblong lounge. She sways slightly in their midst, wearing only her champagne panties, on her knees on a fur in the centre of the seating surrounding her. All the men have erections – some of them lazily stroking their penises with a hand as they sit back, gazing at her.
"Wha... wha...?" she stammers, struggling to her feet. The men stay unmoved, watching her.
"Where am I!" she cries then, heading for stairs going upwards from the only break in the seating at one end of the lounge, the room seeming to tilt and sway as she moves.
A man meets her at the bottom of the stairs, holding up his hands.
"What's going on?" she whines, reaching up to push her way past him.
The man places his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Where you headed, baby?" the man says, with a slight eastern European accent, "you forget what you came here for?"
"I didn't come here," she answers, her eyes widening, "I don't know how I'm here, but now I want my clothes and I want to go back to my hotel!"
"Not yet, baby," the man says, "first it's got to happen." He grins at her.
"I, I don't understand," she stammers, her voice shaking.
"You knew this was how it was going to happen, right?" the man asks, still grinning. He runs the tips of his fingers from her shoulders down her arms, letting his hands drop to his side with a shrug.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she nearly whispers, her voice not wanting to leave the safety of her throat.
"Oh, I think you do," the man answers, nodding his head and grinning, "how else would it happen?"
She licks her lips. "OK," she says, "just let me out, OK?"
"But there's no place to go, baby," the man answers, "You're on a boat – don't you remember?"
She remembers a boat – she was leaning on the shoulder of the cute guy, going past the boats at a pontoon in the marina, barely able to walk by herself.
She comes back to herself, spitting "what do you want with me?" at the man still standing in front of her. He raises his palms to her, as if supplicating.
"We want to help you get back to shore," he says, smiling, "you want that don't you?"
"Yes..." she stammers, feeling the tilt of the room again, realizing it's not in her head – she is all too sober now – but is the heaving of a boat in the waves.
"Well that's easy," the man says, still smiling, "you only need to blow every man in this room."
The men, although silent anyway, seem to become even more silent in the moments that follow.
"What? Blow?" she murmurs finally, barely registering her words herself. She runs her fingers through her hair, taking a step away from the man in the stairs, realizing she has stepped back into the circle of men, takes a half step forward, indecisively turning to and fro such that her breasts sway prettily back and forth.
Then she strides forward and strikes at the man on the stairs, but he catches her wrist in a firm grip, holding it for a second before letting it drop, her arm falling limply as she cowers in front of him.
"And you have to let each one of us cum in your mouth, baby," the man says, smiling even more broadly now, "once you're done with the last of us, we'll take you back to shore again – with a present if you've been a really good girl."
Like in a dream, she moves towards him, trying to pass him, so expectant of resistance that she slinks slowly past him, the naked skin of her back sliding against him as she squeezes herself past and goes up the stairs, picking up speed as she leaves the room behind her.
She emerges on the deck of a boat under a starry, moonless night. The night air presses cold against skin, giving her goosebumps, making her nipples stand out at the tips of her breasts. She runs to the railing and looks out at the sea, barely making out the waves in the starlight. The horizon between the sea and the stars is nevertheless clearly visible, and she sees no sign of land, though there is light on the horizon in one direction. She turns towards it.
"That's just the sunrise coming," the man from the stairway says, having come out onto the deck behind her, "there's no place to go right now – just come downstairs. You knew how this was going to go down anyway, so why not just let it happen?"
She guides herself along the railing, moving towards the rear of the yacht, away from the man.
"Yes, I have a boyfriend, but he's faaar away," she remembers telling the cute guy in the bar in the harbour, "so, do you have a girlfriend?"
"Maybe I have a few," the cute guy had said, slinking a hand across the bar and stroking her wrist with his fingertips. He had been so gentle. "Are you a good girlfriend?"
"Oh yeah," she had said, coyly taking his hand from her wrist and setting it back on the bar – but not without stroking his wrist briefly herself as she withdrew her hand.
"Do you mean it?" the guy had said, a certain tension – like a stiffness – coming into his voice. Her gaze flitted back to the front of his jeans and she felt a warmth rising in herself.
She smiled and looked away then, slightly rolling her eyes. "Oh I think I'm a pretty good girlfriend, yeah," she'd said.
