A Threesome Sex Story
"Cruising," erotica by Jane Anderson
The cruise staff cabin was not much bigger than a walk in closet, which suited Pam tonight because it allowed her to hold onto something—a wall, a dresser, a doorknob, all the way to the bunk beds. Mojitos and rough seas were a tricky mix. High heels and a tight skirt didn't help either.
Rick wasn't in his bunk; it was the lower bunk, which was also nice because Pam needed somewhere to sit before she attempted to strip off her clothes and hit the shower. The air was soft, and slightly damp in the cabin. No air-conditioning tonight, just the perfect tropical temperatures for which people paid thousands of dollars.
Sitting felt good. Two Mojitos had gone down fast, but hadn’t dampened her vibrating tension, a crazy semi-angry energy that couldn't be shaken off or diffused by hanging and drinking with the rest of the crew. There was always the gym, but that added adrenaline might keep her awake all night, a rare and feeling wasted night in which most of the passengers had retired early. The rough seas drove them out of the bars and the casino, and the dance floor was far too risky for the average cruising couple. But it would be calm tomorrow, and the passengers would arrive waiting to be lead, in circles, literally, for the 6 am Shipboard Strut that happened, surprise, at 6 am every morning on the upper deck.
So, nothing to do but hit the shower, then bed, and an unaided, one handed attempt to relax and get to sleep. In her haste to run away, her disgust with sex in general and her maybe-ex-husband in particular, Pam had left her vibrator in the bathroom drawer.
Standing, walking almost steadily in spite of the alcohol and the rough seas a thought struck: what if her mother had followed through with the promise/threat to clean the house for Pam while she was gone? Like a cleaner house would have kept Warren from cheating. Stupid men, stupid sex, stupid desire to have sex with some stupid man. She sat again, feeling the roll of the ship under her.
The bouncing ship could be a crude metaphor for the ups and downs of her life over the past three years. The proposal, six months of wedding planning followed by six months of bliss and then several more of knowing something was wrong. Finding the e-mails and then Warren telling her he needed time—TIME—to figure out if his ex-girlfriend-he-was-having-an-affair-with was lust or love. Hours of lectures disguised as nurturing by her parents. Now, this newly started six months: a contract aboard the Shimmering Seas teaching every line dance from the Electric Slide to the Macarena. This was a decision her mother had compared to Pam's childhood threat to run away and join the circus.
Life could be worse. The water was endless blue gorgeous, the hours crazy and the staff crazier but the money was good and the booze flowed after hours, whether your shift ended at three am or three pm. But, there was her unresolved marriage and the not-quite-single but not-really-divorced thing wasn't helping her sex life. She kicked her shoes into the middle of the industrial blue-gray carpet that covered the floor. Stood again, wiggled out of and carefully hung her peach cocktail dress in the small wardrobe.
God, she was horny. Pam walked the three steps it took to get to the bathroom. The shower water spit out at her with almost no pressure but still managed to taunt her almost itchy skin. She wanted touching. Moving her own soaped up hands over her breasts stirred her up rather than soothed. The vanilla jasmine scent of her shower gel filled the shower; her nose buffered her from the beige tile of the outside world. Leaning back against the wall of the shower she let her hand slide lower, over her stomach, down into her wet tangle of pubic hair. Her finger brushed her clit, which was swollen and poking out between her lips.
Pam looked down; the wet golden hair and her own pale gray-pink clit looked almost pretty when she was this aroused. Obvious and demanding, but full and healthy, juicy and ripe. She stopped the teasing brushing and pressed her middle finger firmly against the hard bud that was at the center of her needy pussy. Relaxing and closing her eyes, she found a rubbing rhythm that eased the need and built the tension.
The click of the cabin door and the laughter of two men stopped her finger and made her stand up straight. Damn!
"Pam? Is that you?" Rick's voice came through the bathroom door.
"No, it's Tom Cruise." Her nipples were hard, crinkled and red like ripe raspberries.
"In your dreams, dear." Rick yelled through the door.
"Not as much as in yours!" She shot back.
Male laughter, not Rick's, resounded. Then Pam heard the door to the bathroom open.
"Umm, are you showering so that you can head out again?" Rick's voice was close, so Pam pulled the curtain back. His farm boy, Midwest-good-looks face, blond and blue eyed, appeared stuck in the cracked-open door.
"You look like you're caught in an elevator." A crooked smile and perfect teeth responded to her.
"So, are you in for the night?" Rick stepped into the bathroom. "And by the way, you shouldn't just toss your shoes into the middle of the cabin. People might trip on them."
Pam pulled back into the shower to rinse off the remaining soap. "You sound like my mother. And yes, unfortunately, I'm in for the evening." Her abandoned pussy and neglected nipples whimpered in protest as she shut the water off. Suddenly, masturbating in the shower seemed like it would take too much effort. And heading out to look for company wasn't an option either. Rick had far more success in that arena, probably because he wasn't as picky as she was.
"Well, aren't we bitchy this evening. PMS?" Rick pulled aside the shower curtain, handed her a towel, and his beer.
"Nope, the exact opposite if you must know." Pam took a swig of the beer, handed the bottle back, and wrapped the towel around herself.
"Stay here for a minute." Rick lowered his voice, obviously not wanting his companion to overhear the request."If you don't mind." Pam shrugged. Rick was a roommate and a friend. He was far better at both than Janelle, who was now moved into Rick's assigned cabin. Fortuitous that Janelle, the lead singer with the salsa, swing and seventies band that played nightly, had decided to start banging Marco, Rick's former roommate and the favorite dance instructor on the seven seas.
Their relationship had so much drama, sex and drinking that neither Rick nor Pam had been able to stand rooming with the respective halves of the insane couple. On any given night there was likely to be door slamming, yelling in Spanish, or noisy barnyard-like sex. There was also a current husband in Miami and a jealous ex-girlfriend in housekeeping, just to make witnessing the relationship even more like watching bad daytime T.V.
Rick had come up with the idea of switching cabins. Over drinks and leftover midnight buffet a month ago they'd conspired to get Janelle out of Pam's cabin, move Rick in, and just let Marco deal with the consequences of his lust.
So far it had worked. But, sitting in the rapidly cooling bathroom wearing nothing but a damp towel, the scent of shower gel and aura of sexual frustration put things in a different light. She didn't need the friendly ministrations and considerately handled sexual liaisons of an attractive gay man. She needed the attention and some not-too-considerate sexual handlings of a straight man.
It was awfully quiet in the main part of the cabin. Too quiet. Damn it! She was not going to sit in the bathroom while Rick got sneaky sex.
Pam stood and pulled the door open. Rick had a tall figure pressed against the cabin door. They were kissing, and Rick's hands were nowhere in sight. Then they shifted and the tall person pushed Rick away.
"Sorry, love, got a bit out of control for a minute."
Sean. Rick had bagged Sean, the new Aussie bartender lusted after by most of the crew, male and female. Well, now she knew. Time to give up on those dark haired, long fingered fantasies.
Image by Georgie Tier
"Pam, do you know Sean?" Rick, ever the smooth improviser, stepped away from Sean. Sean extended his hand, formal in his gesture but grinning like a cat who'd only had his first taste of cream.
"Sean, hi, nice to meet you again."
Bravely, Pam stood her ground, pretending that the towel around her was chain mail and there was nothing, at all, unusual about the situation.
Rick was doing the palms up, exaggerated grimace of "what was I supposed to do?" that almost equaled an apology, but not quite.
Pam shook her head, letting the water spray from her short blond hair, hitting the two men.
Sean took a step forward, turned, looped an arm around Rick, and opened the door to the corridor. "Sorry, love, wasn't aware that Rick's roomy was, ummmm, well, you and here. Ta."
Then he turned back, "Nice shower gel, by the way. Smells good."
The door closed, and Pam took a breath, and another. This evening was really, really beginning to suck. She was now totally awake and losing her mojito-buzz fast. Rick's beer was sitting on the dresser, so she picked it up, drank, dropped her towel and opened the drawer to grab pajamas. Silk, man's style but lavender, was at the bottom of the jumble in her drawer. OK, as long as she was a gay man's roomie, she might as well dress like one, which was maybe Rick's intention when he gave her the pajamas. The beer went down fast, but another waited in the bathroom where she'd set it when she'd grabbed her towel. Hanging up the towel gave her the opportunity to pick up the second, cold beer.
Pam set the beer bottle on top of the faux wood desk, then climbed to the top bunk. Shit, her railing was still stuck in the dropped down position. She'd be lucky if she didn't die falling out of bed tonight. Propping pillows behind her, she pulled a magazine out of the net beside her bunk, took a swig of her beer, and tried to focus on the article.
How do You Know when it's Over? Yuck. The Mexican beer was good, limey and yeasty and she tipped the bottle up again, when the ship rocked, bouncing the bottle and making foam erupt. She licked it, trying to catch all of it before the beer hit her sheets.
In college they used to suck as much of a beer bottle as possible into their mouths, just to get the attention of the guys at the bar. Experimentally, Pam tilted the bottle and slid it into her mouth. Beer poured too quickly down her throat, but she swallowed fast enough to keep pushing the bottle in until her tongue tasted the label.
Pathetic. She was so desperate, she was blowing a beer bottle. The glass even felt good, smooth and hard in her mouth. She pulled it out and ran her tongue around the opening, feeling the hole and the ridges where the cap had been.
Maybe she should try picking up another woman. Pam darted her tongue into the hole. She lapped at the edge, delicately and rhythmically. It couldn't be that hard to go down on a woman. After all, she was a woman and she knew what she liked, so how hard could it be?
Of course, women rarely hit on her and she really had no idea how to hit on another woman, so it probably wouldn't work. Still, she tipped the bottle back and swallowed another chug of beer, thinking it might be fun to try.
The doorknob rattled. Was Rick back already? Moving quickly, she rolled over and put the beer back on the table, then flipped out the light before pulling the sheet up to her chin. Maybe it hadn't worked out with Sean. Rick would want to talk, and she was in no mood for conversation.
A slash of light penetrated her closed lids, then the door closed again. She should have pulled the hospital style privacy curtain around her. Crap.
There was the sound of breathing then something louder, wetter. Shoot, they hadn't been able to use Sean's cabin either. They were back, and kissing, and no doubt about to do a lot more.
The slurpy sounds stopped; there was some whispering and the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.
Pam strained to hear what was going on. Were they actually going to do it in the bathroom?
"Look hun, I can tell you're awake, so why don't you just open your eyes for a second?" Pam levitated at the voice and her eyes flew open. Sean, almost scruffy, messed-up dark, curly hair, accent to die for, was crossing the short length of the cabin.
"Rick told me about your problem. And, after a sound verbal thrashing from my roommate, tequila for Rick and whisky for me, I have come up with a way to handle the evening." He pulled the curtain closed over the porthole, and leaned one hip against the desk beside the bunks.
Pam rolled to her side. Sean crossed his arms, not hiding the way he watched her as she moved and the sheet shifted, but when she resettled he stood up straight and crossed to her. "I propose that we all play together."
"What?" She pushed herself up but didn't manage to sit before Sean grabbed her hand and tugged her off balance. Pam fell back onto her side and then felt a hand brushing her hair out of her face. Sean leaned over so they were inches apart.
"It just so happens that I play on both sides of the fence. Rick is drunk enough to want to play but sober enough to know what he's getting into. Or, well, not getting into as the case may be."
Pam tried to process the information. "You're..."
"Going to kiss you, while you make up your mind."
He leaned in, his breath was brushing her lips and then he was kissing her. Firm lips, slight touch of a tongue, then re-angling, more tongue, whisky breath, pleasant, warm, wet, rough scratch of five o'clock shadow several-hours-past-five, and then, hands. Oh, finally, an arm around her, hand between her shoulder blades, and the other tangled in her hair, and kissing.
Pam opened her mouth wider, rolled closer to the edge of the bunk and Sean, heard herself moan and then heard the bathroom door open. Shit. She sat up and found herself looking over Sean's head at Rick's grin. "Good at that, isn't he?"
"Ummm...look, Rick, you're the one..."
Rick stepped closer stood beside Sean, and ruffled his hair. "I know, I did all the hard work and now you reap the benefits. My life is sooooo not fair."
"Is that silk?" Sean was seemingly ignoring the conversation, and staring at Pam's erect nipples which were shamelessly trying to escape her pajama top.
Rick slid his eyes down to Pam's chest, and his hand someplace Pam couldn't see, but made Sean grunt. "You are such a nipple freak, seriously, I think you may have a problem."
Still looking at Pam, Sean ran his right hand up Rick's chest, popped the few bottoms at the top of his white cotton shirt and exposed the gold ring that pierced Rick's left nipple. It glinted, gaudy and shiny compared to the dusting of blonde hair that covered Rick's chest. Sean tugged gently, and Rick bit his lip. "I have a fetish? You have an 18K gold piercing and I have a fetish?"
Pam stared, openly letting her fascination show for the first time. "Does it, ummm, feel good?"
"Would you like to touch?" Rick stopped grinning for a second, and their eyes met. If they were going to stop, now was the time. Pam felt a smile stretch across her face. Two gorgeous, tan, men: a blond and a brunette. One a friend and one a fantasy. If she was going to screw up her already confused and screwed up life, this was definitely the way to do it.
"I'll touch yours if you'll...wait, have you ever?" Pam cocked her head, asking without voicing the question.
Rick slid between Sean and the bunk beds, dropping his shirt as he inserted himself in front of Sean, and in front of Pam's lavender silk covered breasts. "I went to prom."
And all three laughed; Pam with her head thrown back and her dark mood leaving her with every breath; Sean with rough joy and Rick with a chuckle, pleased that he'd brought down the house.
And then Pam felt a brushing touch against her right nipple. Then her left. Her laugh quieted; she held her breath and kept her head back. The gentle brush came again, right, then left. A hand caught hers, tugged, and then she felt coarse hair, a nub, and warm metal.
Experimentally, she ran her finger over the nub, tugged the metal, then tugged the hair. "Gentle, roomie, it's attached."
Pam raised her head, opened her eyes, and saw Rick, and behind him Sean. Her hand was on Rick's chest, but so was Sean's, and from the expression on Rick's face, he definitely had a nipple thing. And Sean had a grinding thing, or at least enjoyed grinding into Rick.
Pam leaned over the edge of the bed, picked up the beer, and drained half of the remaining brew. Then she shoved the sheet completely off herself and sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bunk; Rick's head and shoulders framed in a V of lavender silk and his hands sliding up her torso, undoing buttons on the way.
"I love silk. I'm glad you like the pajamas." He paused, the two top buttons still buttoned, and ran his hand casually over her left breast. Pam arched into his palm, but it was gone, Rick's hands now tugging and stroking the silk, which in turn caught on her nipples and stroked them, teasing.
"Good birthday present. Thanks again for the…ummm…wow." How was it possible that something this soft could make her this crazy?
"Step aside mate, let an expert have at it," Sean said.
Rick stopped his stroking and turned around to Sean. They kissed, and Rick's shoulder ground into the inside of her thigh. She scooted closer, craving the heat and the promise of friction. Sean ran his hand up her thigh, the top of her leg, touched her stomach with his fingertips, then turned, pulling Rick out of the V created by her dangling legs.
"I'm going to play with your roomie for a few minutes," he stated, getting a narrowing of the eyes in return from Rick.
"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do to occupy myself?"
Sean smiled a slow, honey-drizzled-on-biscuits smile, and reached for his belt buckle. "You are going to sit on that bunk and do exactly what you've been wanting to do all night."
"Take your shirt off," Pam heard the words come out of her mouth.
Sean looked sideways at her, pulled up the bottom of his black t-shirt, then stopped. "You too."
When had her hands started shaking, and how long did it take to undo two buttons? But then they were undone, and her top was on the bed, and she was half naked in front of two men. And they looked, and she looked back; then Rick reached for Sean's crotch and Sean leaned his blue jean covered dick into Rick's hand, while pulling his own shirt off.
Smooth, smooth golden tan skin. Skin that begged to be touched, stroked. How many times had someone volunteered to help Sean apply suntan lotion in the past weeks?
Pam reached out, touched then grabbed Sean's shoulder. Rick disappeared from view and the bunk beds shook, just like when he crawled into bed at night. Sean let himself be pulled between her legs then lifted them so they draped his shoulders, and the heat from his body penetrated the silk and released a liquid rush from her pussy.
Sean cupped his hands under both breasts firmly, then stroked his thumb over her right nipple, watching for her reaction. Then he pinched, gently, and tugged her forward and sucked her aroused bud into his mouth. Wet, electric need shot through her. Pam grabbed his head, pulling him to her, and he obliged, licking and sucking. "Oh, my."
"God!" Sean gasped against her, burying his face between her breasts, groaning, and her legs slid off his shoulders.
From her vantage, looking over Sean, Pam could see both of Rick's hands, kneading Sean's well muscled butt, Sean's legs tangled in and trapped by his jeans, Rick's legs sticking out from the bottom bunk and further trapping Sean. Rick, apparently, was very into, and good at, giving blowjobs.
But Sean was good too. He straightened, shook his head, and reached for the drawstring of her pajama bottoms. Pam hesitated, a hesitation quickly overcome by Sean darting his tongue at her other nipple. Tap, lick, kiss. Teasing, not satisfying, not making her groin clench in response, but making her clit twitch and take notice.
Still, "Did you?" Pam wasn't sure; she couldn't see; and it wasn't her mouth on Sean's dick. Sean stopped licking her nipple and the air felt cool against her damp skin. "No, but it was close. I just lose it when someone sucks my head out of my foreskin."
Then he closed his eyes, and groaned again. "Stop it, you talented little bastard."
Rick's head appeared from under the bed, and he stood. "OK." Artfully and casually, he picked up the bottle of beer from the desk and sipped.
"Pants, off." Sean spoke to Rick, but pulled at Pam's pajama bottoms, dropping them on the floor. Rick stripped out of his own jeans, and kicked them aside, his aroused cock bouncing, pink and glistening.
Sean looked, first at Rick, then at Pam. Pam knew she should feel embarrassed, or at least nervous, but she found herself bringing her legs up, bracing her feet on the edge of the bed, and spreading her bent legs as far as she could.
"You could be twins: natural blonds, the both of you. And horny Rick, you could hammer nails, and Pam, you're so wet you're dripping on the sheets. And your clit..."
With one finger he touched her, gently, barely making contact, and she moaned, closing her eyes. Then firm circles replaced the flicking light touches, and she gasped. There was another moan, but not hers. Forcing her eyes open again, she saw that Sean had Rick in hand, and was rubbing up and down with the same rhythm he was using on her and she wanted more rubbing, but also a dick, hard, big, pushing inside of her, but Rick wouldn't do that, or would he and, oh... she swiveled her hips, pushed at Sean's hand, trying to get him to at least slide his fingers into her.
And he almost did, sliding his whole hand against her, fingers pressing against her wet opening.
"If you had to pick between coming and fucking, which would you pick, right now?"
Pam froze; she had to choose?
Then Sean closed his eyes, and looking over him, Pam saw that Rick had his hand on Sean now. "Such a cocky Aussie bastard, isn't he?" Pam smiled, and put her hand behind Sean's head, pulling him closer to her crotch. Choose between fucking and coming? Not tonight, not with these two.
And Sean nuzzled, briefly, then licked, tongue against her clit, then lapping full stroke, wet soft against wet soft. But it wasn't enough; she needed something in her, and he finally, finally, obliged shoving his tongue into her wet, desperate pussy as she tightened around him. It wasn't hard enough or deep enough, so when his hand pulled at her and his fingers replaced his tongue she drove down, grinding against him and he moaned into her, licking and sucking her clit and pushing his fingers into her. He slowed, kissed her thigh and her knee and said, "Condoms. We definitely need rubbers now."
The breeze of practicality blew away some of the hormonal haze surrounding Pam. She took a deep breath and smelled herself, jasmine-vanilla salty sweat and the more acrid, mineral smell of two men, beer and scotch, musk, and pre-cum. No, she wasn't stopping now.
"On it." Rick let go of Sean's dick, and practically skipped to the bathroom.
"OK, you need to hop down now, that’s it darlin’." Sean's hands, slippery with her wetness, grabbed Pam around the hips and pulled her off the bunk, catching her as she fell and all his warm, sleek skin rubbed her for a moment, slick and sweaty.
Instinctively, she rubbed her crotch on his thigh, and sucked on his neck and his cock bumped against her hip and he turned his head and kissed her, forcing her mouth open. She opened for him, taking his tongue then licking down his throat and dropping to her knees and sucking him into her, tangy, almost gagging at his size, greedy and thoughtless until he tangled his hand in her hair, pulling.
Then there were two cocks, dark and dripping and pink and wet, blond hair sparkling, dark hair covering full, swinging balls, and she licked, one, then the other: the pink tip, then the dark, sucked the dark in and put her hand on the pink. Hard, hot, flesh pushed into her mouth and hard, sticky, flesh filled her hand.
Hands pulled her up and now she was the one who leaned into pleasure, a dark head between her legs, an unseen tongue licking her, teasing her clit into stiffness that mimicked the cocks around her.
Then Rick, familiar friend Rick, was in front of her, blurry through the fog of lust and longing, and he had pillows. The tongue stopped and she cried out, hearing her own voice, "Wait, stop, fuck me, please, fuck me!"
And then Sean was behind her and she was on the floor, on her hands and knees with a pillow cushioning her, and hands pulled her legs apart and a tongue tasted, for a second tasted her most forbidden spot, then fingers separated, and a cock, finally, finally, penetrated as she rocked back into his body.
"Careful now, babe, I'll take care of you." Sean's now familiar accent slowed her frantic pace and she breathed, stopped, noticed legs in front of her and rested her head against Rick's thigh. He stood over her and she felt his body heat and the soft hair against her cheek, then she tasted him, again, briefly, sucking soft and wet until the thrusting inside her distracted her to the point of dropping her head.
"I need to come, I've got to..."
And Rick stepped slightly to the side and closer to Sean. His hand came down, sliding down the slick, sweaty front of her, playing with her nipple. It was Sean's turn to blow Rick, and Sean fucked her, pounded her like he'd never stop, sucking on Rick simultaneously. Fingers pinched her nipple, others touched her bursting swollen clit and someone shouted. Sticky-wet salt sprayed her shoulder and back, and her body shouted, clenched, and came in waves of release. Behind her, Sean lost his rhythm and grabbed her hips and yelled.
Her knees gave out. Then, a knobbly knee, Rick's, cushioned her head. A head, Sean's, pressed into the small of her back, and his arm wrapped around her, fingers idly playing with her clit.
"Ugh, no, no more." Somehow, the pillow had gotten lost and the carpet scratched her stomach, and her breasts. Laughter rumbled against her before it reached her ear.
"Boys one, girls zero," Sean mumbled against her.
The leg, which cushioned her head, moved and an arm pulled her up, until she sat, leaning, limp, against her roommate. "Don't mind him, he's very competitive." Rick commented.
Pam nodded against Rick's shoulder, then noticed that nature was calling.
"I have to pee." She staggered to her feet, stumbled to the bathroom, opened the door and turned on the light. The glare spotlighted the floor: two men, one blond, one dark, both naked except for the condom crinkling on the spent penis of the dark haired one. Pillows, two pairs of jeans, a white shirt a black t-shirt and lavender silk pajamas bloomed on the floor of the small cabin.
Instinctively, her vagina pulsed, maybe wanting more. And her whole body shuddered in response. As though they saw it, the two men looked at her, smiling. Sean spoke. "Me too. But really, hun, we all need to pee and rinse off. And that bathroom's too small for the three of us."
Pam stepped inside, into the shower, turned on the water and peed. Something she hadn't done since, when? Before her marriage, certainly.
The bathroom door opened. Was there no privacy in this cabin?
"You O.K.?" It was Rick. For the second time that night, Pam turned off the water, got out of the shower, and was handed a towel and a drink by Rick. Only this time, he was wearing nothing but boxers and the drink was a glass of water.
Pam drank, and wrapped the towel around her, the coarse terry cloth abusing her tender nipples and rubbing against her thighs. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. I'm actually, maybe, good."
"Hell, I think you're great and I don't even like girls." Rick stripped off the boxers and stepped into the shower. "I'm beat, but Sean was talking about having a night cap. Like the three we had earlier weren't enough."
The water started and it was hard to hear. Gurgle, something, "kissed our good-byes, that man needs to shave." Splash, weird vigorous sudsy sounds, "Up to you, won't bother me, he's still hung up on some cheating ex."
Cheating ex. Shit. Warren. Shit, she was still married to Warren.
"Rick?" The sounds slowed. "Hey, Rick, I might head out, if you're sure it's ok?"
"No problema, senorita. I learned that from my ex-roomie. I like you soooo much better. Even if you don't have a dick, at least you aren't a dick!" He stuck his head out around the curtain and shampoo dripped down his face. "You are maybe my favorite roommate, ever."
"Back at ya." And Pam stepped back into the cabin. No Sean, fewer scattered clothes, pillows back on the bunk. She wanted to take a walk, not run away, surprisingly, just, get some air and let her cells, brain and body realign.
Jeans and a t-shirt, no underwear, why bother after the past two hours? Like no panties would make her a slut at this point. Pam left the cabin and walked up and out to the top deck. The sea had finished indulging it's latest fit of temper and the ship rocked gently, soothingly, a golden sliver of moon barely lighting the abandoned deck and the lounge chairs surrounding the empty swimming pool.
She sat, and let the blue-black dark and the rocking ease her chaffed skin and bruised heart. A familiar scent, whisky and tang, penetrated the sea-salt air.
"Red or white?" Sean stood next to her, holding two glasses of wine.
"I always tried to drink red with Warren to show I was sophisticated." Sean crossed the deck, and tossed a glass overboard, then returned and handed her the glass of white wine. "A French chardonnay. Trust me, it's sophisticated, and Warren sounds like an ass."
Pam sipped. It was good: vanilla and wood and a little of the mineral she'd smelled in the air, tasted on two men recently. Or maybe tongues had memories.
Sean sat, uninvited but not unwelcome, in the chair next to her. He pulled a flask from his shirt pocket—he'd apparently showered and changed too.
"I have a friend, a college friend, who said the best way to get over one man is to get under another," Pam said.
Sean chuckled, and sipped from his flask. "I've been trying that myself. Getting over one, getting under, or, hmmm, at least with, others. It hasn't been working so well. Maybe that’s one reason I came onto you."
Pam looked at him, really studying his face. In the shadow, his own shadows showed, etched into the corners of his eyes and the crook of his half-smile.
"How long were you together?" She asked.
"Six years. Committed, monogamous. At least, I was. I figured, with me open to all options and him being one handsome bastard. Well, committed and monogamous was the only way to keep it together. Plus, I loved him." Sean sipped again, not looking at her. "The way I see it, if you commit, if you have rules, everyone plays by them. If they don't, well, do you really want them on your team any more?"
Now he did look at her, eyes darker than the night around them, lips tantalizing, sexy, even in her sated state. She could kiss him again, soon, if he wanted.
"Warren sent me an e-mail. He said, and I quote, that he loved me and that he'd been thinking about his slight indiscretion, and that maybe wild sex wasn't everything it was cracked up to be."
For the first time that evening, Sean was speechless. His jaw literally dropped, and he stared. Then he snorted.
And Pam lifted her golden glass of chardonnay, and Sean lifted his silver flask of whisky, and they toasted, laughing with each other, in the darkness, in the sliver of moonlight, into the ocean around them and the days ahead.
Originally published June 2010