Dangerous Liaisons



Author: NA50
Fandom: Magnificent 7
Pairing(s): Chris/Vin, Chris/OFC, Vin/OFC
Warnings: rape
Spoilers: none
Summary: The characters of Magnificent 7 are recast as modern-day escorts.

Nominated Category:

Best Slave!Fic: TV & Movies - Slash,
Most Angst: TV & Movies,
Most Intense Scene: Acted TV & Movies - Slash
&
Best Extreme Fic: TV & Movies - Slash


  1. Author's Premise For This Universe
  2. The Cruise: Boarding Passes, Please
  3. The Cruise: Old Friends
  4. The Cruise: Promenade
  5. The Cruise: The Bet
  6. The Cruise: Below Decks
  7. The Cruise: Single File Drill
  8. The Cruise: Questions
  9. The Cruise: Desperate Measures
  10. The Cruise: Truth or Dare
  11. The Cruise: Negotiations
  12. The Cruise: Answers
  13. The Ranch: North Range


Author's Premise For This Universe

My Premise for this universe:

While in the Navy, Chris Larabee was legitimately asked on occasion to escort the wives of senior officers who were at sea or otherwise engaged to escort wives and daughters to official if social functions. There was no impropriety. However, at one such soiree, he met Ella Gaines, a professional "hostess" who was taken with Chris and he with her. She found opportunities for Chris to meet people of influence and make a little cash on the side and Chris got Buck involved in their little side deals...all of it expressed as "gifts" from their "dates".

On leaving the Navy (and there was a certain scandal to it. Chris was discharged honorably but forcibly,) he worked with Ella for a few years, playing hard and loose and getting a taste for the good life. Then he met Sarah, fell in love and changed his ways. Ella was furious and tried to persuade him otherwise. I see a nasty parting of the ways.

Chris sets his sites on making it through the police academy and Buck joins him (also put out with Ella.) They make it through and work as cops for a couple of years until Sarah and Adam are killed. Chris and Buck both think it was some criminal they locked up. But it was, in fact Ella, thinking she could get Chris back if she eliminated the reasons he left in the first place.

At this point, I'm thinking Chris is only about 25 or 26 years old when he marries Sarah (setting it younger than the original series, I think.)

After their deaths, Chris does dive off the deep end, and resigns from the police force before they can fire him. He reenters the world as a kind of hard going gigolo, determined not to let emotion touch him ever again. Ella tries to regain his interest but he doesn't even want her.

Eventually it eases some with Buck joining him, also kind of disgusted with the whole police and ineffectual thing...

Ten years later Chris is working a specially booked cruise ship with Buck (think Exit to Eden by Anne Rice's alter ego) where he ends up meeting what will eventually be his stable...


  • Nathan: who was supporting himself as a male escort/companion while in medical school but got caught at it and was kicked out, with little or no chance of getting back into Med school.

  • Ezra: who has been working as a gigolo for a good many years, conning widows out of their money.

  • Josiah: currently the gentlemanly escort to an elderly widow.

  • Vin: current trophy boy prize to Guy Royal, who is very much an out of control sadist, who keeps a short leash on Vin because he has evidence (falsified) that will tie Vin to a murder.

  • JD: who works for the cruise line as a steward but who gets drawn into the entire upper class, wealthy, ennui looking for something to entertain or titillate them, scene

    • Proposed first story is "Dangerous Liaisons: The Cruise" where the seven meet.




    The Cruise: Boarding Passes, Please

    Day One - Portside, Florida

    The sharp hot glare of the Florida sun cut through even the dark protection of Chris Larabee's very expensive sunglasses, forcing him to squint as the cab pulled up to the curb on the road leading to the Port Terminal. He checked his ticket once more: Berth 42, "The Atlantic Angel". He chuckled at that as the cabby pulled his bags out. He paid him and picked up his valise, slinging the suit-carrier over his shoulder.

    He still wasn't entirely convinced this was a good idea. Angela Redding was an old friend and a better client, but this really wasn't quite his thing. He liked knowing where and when and how, and most of all who -- and with a hundred plus people joining Angela on her little Fantasy Island Love Boat cruise, Chris was thinking that seven days with a bunch of total strangers might just manage to crack the thin veneer of charm he was so noted for possessing.

    A very thin veneer, he thought, staring over the docks to where the ships were lined up like oversized piglets in a wallow.

    But Angela had begged, cajoled, threatened, pouted and pretty much cut loose her entire arsenal of persuasions to get him to agree -- and she was no slouch in the dirty fighting arena.

    Except she hadn't really fought that dirty. He wouldn't have to do anything but play her escort unless he chose, maybe do a favor for a couple of her friends -- who he would know. Mostly he would be the person Angela needed to vent to; to be teased and comforted by in the face of her biggest "social" arrangement of the year. And in truth, there wasn't much Chris could object to at having a week on the Gulf, every luxury laid out for him as if he were a paying guests, and nice little bonus as well. Maybe a last look at the life he was getting ready to leave behind.

    And see if he had any regrets.

    Should it get to be too much, he doubted Angela would mind finding him in her bed most of the trip. And that, more than anything had decided him. Angela Redding was one of the good ones: good hearted, a shrewd business woman, tough as nails and tender as any woman could ever claim or hope to be. In another age, she'd have been a courtesan in her own right, with a matchmaking business on the side and a seriously well-equipped dungeon in the basement. She liked her pleasures, liked people and she'd been a good friend to him when he was hell bent on driving every friend he had away.

    He hadn't quite managed it and he grinned at himself, waiting for the traffic to ease so he could cross the avenue to the terminal building. Buck would be here too, had been on every cruise he could wangle an invite too, even once managed to scrape together the ten grand it cost to make this cruise. The first time. But only once. Chris suspected Angela would pay his fare herself if she couldn't talk one of her guests into it first.

    Chris had yet to meet Buck's current banker. He claimed she was blonde, long legged, big-breasted, and open handed with her money. Chances were, she was short, dark and had him pegged from the moment they met. Not that it would have mattered. Buck Wilmington knew more about this business than any man living, probably. Had been in it one way or another from the first breath he took. And the women loved him -- with good reason.

    And not a few men, he thought, crossing the street. Yeah, Buck would be escorting the ladies and not picking up the check when he was ninety.

    Chris shifted his grip on the valise as he walked along the sidewalk, next to a service garage. Not the best looking part of the town, especially next to the gaudily decorated port with it's balloons and flags and a big Mickey Mouse blimp floating overhead. Buses and cabs made the run for the front of the building and Chris was half wishing he'd had the cabby get closer, but there was a long line of vehicles and he'd get there and out of the humid heat faster walking. He was glad he'd dressed light, though: silk and linen keeping him cool, although the strap of his bag was making his shoulder sweat.

    There were other people walking as well, faces elated or tired, excited and annoyed, too. A colorful spatter of humanity in holiday dress teased his eyes: men in summer shirts and Hawaiian prints, women in skirts or pedal pushers, kids yelling excitedly as they caught glimpses of the big ships waiting for them.

    He was a little early: the regular boarding for the cruise not starting until later in the afternoon but Angela wanted time to get settled. Time to get her personal staff sorted and in place before her guests arrived, and although he wasn't technically working the cruise, Chris had volunteered to come early. Angela had been bright-eyed grateful for it.

    A group of jostling young men took up most of the sidewalk ahead of him and Chris took a second to assess them, meeting the eyes of one of them, who stared arrogantly back at him then smiled -- nothing pleasant in the expression aat all. Five of them and they slowed. Chris didn't, meeting the eyes of each one of them, looking them straight in the face, until he passed them. Then he slowed and turned around to watch them. Street tough and looking for trouble, he figured. A gang or trying to be. His eyes narrowed as he saw the unmistakable bulge of a gun in the waistband of the tallest of them.

    Beyond them was another man: tall, ebon-skinned and dressed nicely if causally in a brilliant blue shirt and pale slacks. The boys slowed again, and the man kept walking but they circled him. Chris tensed, watching them and then glanced around, look for a security guard, port cop, anyone. When he looked back, the five boys were tugging and shoving the man into the garage.

    "Fuck," Chris said softly and looked around. An upright garbage can with a door was close enough to shove his bags into and then he was running, back along the sidewalk. Another figure moved toward him from across the street and he stopped, just for a heartbeat's length of time. Blue eyes met his under a dark cascade of curls, long, lean form encased in leather pants and a red silk tank, sunglasses around his neck on a keeper cord.

    The blue eyes darted toward the garage and back toward Chris, the stranger cocking his head. He'd seen it too, Chris knew. Planned to go in. Chris answered the question with a nod before he even realized there was one in the air. They both moved; no more than a second or two passing during the whole exchange.

    He didn't have time to really think about it. Entering the sultry heat and darkness of the garage with the blue-eyed stranger beside him, the first thing he heard was the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the equally obvious sound of a man giving up muffled cries of pain. Chris pulled his sunglasses off and headed left, around a parked cargo loader and found them, the other man right at his elbow.

    "Hey! Take five of you to be this stupid?" the man beside him yelled, voice low and rough with a discernible Texas accent. It was enough to break the group up for just a second.

    "Ain't none of your business, man," the tallest one said and Chris' eyes narrowed, remembering the gun. Two of the boys held their victim while the other two had gone at him with hard-curled fists.

    "We're making it ours," Chris said flatly. "Let him go and you can walk."

    "And if we don't?" the tallest asked, lifting his chin.

    "Then maybe you won't be walking when we get done with you," the Texan said with a grin, standing hip shot, arms folded over his chest.

    "Maybe you won't be breathing," the taller one said, turning and reaching behind him.

    Chris dived for him, barely aware that his companion moved as well and unable to think of anything or do anything but go for the kid's wrist and his arm, keep him from pulling the gun, or if he pulled it, not let him fire it. Training from years ago held up to the passage of time as he caught the kid's arm and jabbed an elbow into his throat. The gun was half out and Chris slammed the kid's arm across his knee hearing a howl of pain as the mugger dropped the weapon. Shoving him back, Chris grabbed it up and checked it, all without thinking, and turned.

    One kid was down, trying to clutch both his stomach and a bloody nose. The Texan had two others closely engaged, legs and arms flying in precisely controlled patterns, martial arts training obvious and a little barroom brawl style as well as he used a kick and feint to get one kid to drop his guard and followed it with a pretty impressive right hook.

    Just beyond him, the gang's would be victim was getting some of his own back, bloodied and bruised but obviously not out and the kid had no chance all by himself.

    A glint of light and Chris turned back, closing in, hearing the Texan hiss and the tear of cloth, the last boy standing producing a lethal-looking knife.

    "Drop it!" Chris barked, and didn't hesitate to cock the gun, the click of the chamber rolling over echoing and compelling in the cavernous space.

    The boy stared at Chris then at his opponent, weighing the odds. He was smarter than he looked. He held the knife out carefully, letting it drop and clatter on the concrete floor. Then he lunged forward, shoving the Texan aside as he headed for the door. Chris let him go, eyed the others until they scrambled to their feet to follow. The one with the bloodied nose paused only long enough to help his staggering leader out as well.

    The three men stood there, breathing a little heavily, until the footsteps faded.

    "Well," the Texan said finally, body relaxing in fractions. "Whole lot cooler in here than outside, don't'cha' think?" he asked.

    It took a moment before the black man started laughing. "Yeah...lots cooler."

    Chris grinned at both of them and then popped the chamber of the gun, dumping the bullets into his hand, then taking the open chamber and slamming it forcefully against the steel side of the cargo loader. The chamber popped and rolled, the gun useless.

    "I want to thank you fellas," the black man said. "They were after my wallet -- got a bit disappointed by the contents. Nathan Jackson," he said holding out his hand to Chris first, who took it, giving it a firm shake.

    "Chris Larabee. You all right?"

    "Will be. Bruised. Nothing that won't heal."

    "Vin Tanner," the Texan said with a smile, shaking Nathan's hand as well. "Glad I could help," he said and turned to Chris to offer his hand to him as well. "That gun could have made things a mite more interesting," he said.

    "If it didn't blow up in his face," Chris said, looking at the ruined bit of metal. "Saturday night specials aren't really known for their reliability."

    "Just as glad he didn't get to test it out," Nathan said with a chuckle but it faded and he moved toward Vin. "You're bleeding," he said and Chris' grip on Vin's hand slid up to catch his forearm as Nathan lifted Vin's other arm to look at the cut.

    Vin gripped Chris' arm briefly but then pulled away. "Just a scratch," he said, as Nathan pulled at the torn cloth of his shirt.

    "Don't look too bad...need to clean it though. Lord knows what that boy used that knife for," Nathan said and Chris looked as well. The smooth tanned skin under Vin's ribs was marked and bleeding but it was shallow: slightly deeper than the scratch Vin claimed it to be, but it didn't look to have dug into the muscle. It was bleeding nicely though and Chris offered Nathan his handkerchief to press to the wound. "I got some bandages in my kit," Nathan said, not taking the handkerchief but guiding Chris' hand to press the folded cloth to the wound. "Give me just a second," he said and found his bags, pulling a satchel up onto a crate.

    Chris stepped in so he could press his whole hand over the wound. "Nice moves."

    "Had a few of your own, I seem to recall," Vin said, tensing a little when Chris pressed on the cut, but he didn't move much.

    "I get by," Chris said, a smile escaping him when Tanner met his gaze. The square jaw came up a notch, humor in the blue eyes.

    "I bet you do, cowboy," Vin said, voice low and soft and Chris felt the shock of that raspy voice and the suggestion beneath it, down to his toes and back up where it lodged about midway and settled.

    "You call me a cowboy?"

    "If the horse needs to be ridden," Vin said, laughter on his lips and Chris felt his pulse quicken.

    "Here, let me see that," Nathan said, interrupting them without seeming to notice anything. He washed the wound then dried it, covering the cut with an antibiotic cream, and then a long square of gauze. "Hold that there, Chris," he said and pressed Chris' hand back on the wound again. "Don't mind, do you?" he asked and Chris glanced sharply at him. Nathan was grinning like an idiot.

    Maybe he had noticed something.

    "No, I don't mind," Chris said, glancing back at Vin. "You a doctor, Nathan?"

    "No," Nathan said, hesitating a little but then he was back with the tape to hold the gauze in place. "Know some about it, but I'm not a doctor," he said quietly.

    "Close enough for me," Vin said when the gauze was in place and then he moved away, rolling his shirt down. "Sure you don't need to see one?" he asked, pulling a clean gauze pad to press it to a small cut over Nathan's eye. It hadn't bled much but was starting to trickle down the side of his dark face.

    Chris watched Vin, fascinated by the long slender fingers, seeing calluses there, but a sure, steady touch.

    "Naw. I'm all right. Won't be doing sit ups any time soon, but I'll be okay," Nathan said, rubbing his stomach but he smiled and started packing his things up. "Feel like I should buy you fellas a beer or something."

    Chris helped him gather up his jacket and the smaller bag he'd been carrying while Vin bent down to pick up Nathan's wallet and hand it back to him.

    "Next time," Vin said with a grin and glanced at his watch. "Thanks for the patch job, Doc. Ya'll take care," he said, shaking Nathan's hand and then Chris' again. His eyes lingered, mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something, but then he only smiled. "Watch your back, cowboy," he said softy and squeezed Chris' hand briefly before dropping his hand and backing away before Chris could say any one of the dozens of things that he wanted to.

    Chris waited, helping Nathan with his bag as they walked back out into the sunshine. He looked but he couldn't see Vin or even a glimpse of the red shirt anywhere around. He put his sunglasses back on and walked with Nathan back toward the terminal. "You need me to get you a cab or anything? Call the police?" Chris asked, stopping back at the trash can to find his bags where he'd left them, undisturbed. His suits might be a little wrinkled but he'd survive. He wiped off the gun and dropped it the trash can.

    "No, thanks, Chris," Nathan said. "Got a boat to catch. I'll get myself a nice soak. You knew he had that, didn't you? The gun?"

    "Saw him. Passed him before he got to you."

    '"And you still...." Nathan took a deeper breath. "Brave thing for a stranger. You a cop?"

    Chris gave him a tight smile. "Was. A long time ago. Not anymore."

    Nathan nodded. "Thank you. Not sure I can say that enough."

    "You have," Chris said and patted his shoulder as they crossed the street into the terminal building. They both scanned the departure boards and Chris realized they were heading the same way.

    Chris pulled his ticket and eyed Nathan, who reached into his bag and pulled his own, then broke into a broad grin. "I guess I might get to buy you that beer after all."

    "I think I'll let you," Chris said with a chuckle.

    They walked a few more feet and Nathan stopped, laying a hand on Chris' arm. "Larabee...Chris...Mrs. Redding's Chris?" he asked.

    Chris hesitated, wondering what, if anything, Nathan knew about his relationship with Angela. "Sometimes, she thinks so," he said cautiously.

    Nathan was quiet for a moment but another smile emerged, this one more wry. "Yeah. She does. She's real excited about you being here. I work for her..." he said and then ducked his head. "Not quite like you do," he added more quietly but he was still smiling, no hint of judgement or condemnation on his face. "And I know she thinks of you as a friend more than anything."

    Chris relaxed a little. "We go back a lot of years. What...?" he gestured at Nathan's bag.

    "Ah, I'm kind of a therapist for her, without a license yet," he said a shadow crossing his dark face. "Got some med school under my belt, some EMT training..."

    "She wanted to make sure she had someone on hand in case someone got a little over enthusiastic on this little pleasure cruise," Chris guessed and Nathan nodded. "Kind of hard to call in the paramedics when you're dealing with big names and rope burns," he said with a low laugh and Nathan chuckled too.

    "Yeah, something like that. There's a doctor on board but he's...one of her guests," Nathan said as they stepped up to present their tickets. They got their passes and surrendered their luggage and were directed along a corridor toward the docks.

    "Probably a good idea. Hear these things can get a little wild."

    Nathan glanced at him and grinned. "If they only get a little wild, she'll think it's a total failure," he said and they headed for the dock and the gangplank.

    The only thing Chris knew he was, if the rest of the cruise were anything like the start of it, he wasn't likely to get bored.




    The Cruise: Old Friends

    It didn't take long to get checked in; Chris glancing at Nathan with masked concern to make sure the man stayed on his feet. He seemed to be all right, but the hot sun couldn't be helping. The cut over his eye had stopped bleeding, but there was a slightly swollen place on his jaw that could probably use an ice pack.

    "Mrs. Redding said she'd be in the ballroom," Nathan said after a steward offered to take their carry on luggage. For Chris it was all he had, but Nathan apparently had more, already being handled.

    "Nathan, why don't you go find your room, grab a shower and some ice? I'll let her know you're on board," Chris offered and smiled at the flash of gratitude in the man's eyes.

    "I could use a shower," Nathan admitted, working his shoulder. "I'd appreciate it, Chris. Tell her I won't be long."

    "Consider it done," Chris said.

    "I still owe you a beer."

    Chris chuckled at that. "I won't let you forget. I'll see you in awhile," he said and Nathan grinned then headed for the elevators to find his room.

    Chris tucked his sunglasses into his pocket and hazarded a glance in the mirrored facade of the large foyer. At least that's what he supposed they called it. Glass and brass and chrome and steel, polished to within an inch of its life. There were a few people moving about not in uniform, but all moving with a purpose which meant they could still be crew, or members of Angela's staff.

    He had the ship's guide in hand but a quick question to a passing crewman got him headed to the ballroom, one level down and over toward the port side. He paused in the door, leaning on the frame, watching the activity inside that reminded him of nothing so much as a hive of bees and in the center, the queen herself.

    Angela Hartman Redding was very possibly twenty years Chris' senior -- she looked ten years younger. He wasn't entirely sure how old she was and he'd never asked. His inclination was to think she was she was a good deal older -- if only by experience -- because it was unlikely she'd let her form give anything damning away. Dark hair, near black, was currently coiled and curled and upswept over a pixieish face and a long neck that seemed designed for the varieties of lacework-like necklaces she favored. She was small and round and curved, Reubinesque to the point of being a cliché, with delicate hands and trim ankles, buxom and fully-curved at hips and tummy. Plump without being hennish, graceful without being mincing or overly-coquettish. Every bit a woman, although, as she claimed, rarely a lady. Dark eyes could be alternately shrewd and seductive and her cupid's bow mouth could bring a man off skillfully enough to make him think he was in heaven, or cut him to shreds with a few well-placed words. In her own element, she was both courtesan and commander-in-chief. In the larger world she was considered a pleasant, if slightly flaky, twice-over widow, who seemed to know more people of influence than any single person should have time to have meet in a lifetime.

    She'd been a swinger before it was trendy, tapping into the over-checked libido of high-pocketed American nouveau riche while Timothy Leary was getting stoned in his upstate opium den and she'd been throwing parties for disillusioned politicians while Nixon was eavesdropping on their counterparts. She was part Madam and part matchmaker and more than one successful familial alliance had been engineered with Angela's small hands guiding the reins of fate.

    Chris actually hadn't ever wanted to know more than that, or how far or wide her influence was spread. She thought Heidi Fleiss and Sidney Barrows were idiots and fools for being discovered and she was more cautious than that, while being blithely obvious about certain things. She never thought of herself as above prosecution, but Chris doubted anyone would ever be able to trace her wealth to anything illegal or marginally ethically questionable. There was no little black book, no paper trail, no easy way to trace Angela Redding's hobbies and interests to the highly volatile and risky end of the pleasure industry. There were no bored housewives serving the needs of her friends, and no one she dealt with that had less to lose than herself, should the house of cards she played in come tumbling down. She wielded social influence like a sword, with herself as primary adjudicator. No one ever paid Angela Redding for her services or her coterie of personnel who possessed *special* skills. Not directly. And when working for her, Chris never woke to find cash or a cashier's check in his name waiting on the bed stand.

    She ran a series of elite social clubs, and entertainments, all of which came with certain privileges and perks, the higher up the membership ladder you climbed. For Chris it meant covering any number of roles from concierge to riding instructor to undercover security.

    Somewhere, on paper, he even had a title.

    He was free, of course, to pick up his own clients on the side, and had, some of which he might even continue to see, not so much for the meal ticket they provided but for the sense of history and companionship they'd instilled.

    Not in general hire though, and Chris knew it was what he did, what he was, even if Angela Redding pursed her pink lips and scowled at him for saying so.

    She was scowling now, scanning a rip sheet with a very nervous looking executive chef beside her.

    "Madame, we do not have time to replace these items before we sail," the chef said as she marked through item after item. "The menu will have to be rewritten!"

    "Then you, Monsieur Dervais, had best to get to work," she said, finishing her cutwork on his lists. "Michael," she called over an immaculately dressed young man, half Chris' age, with hair so blonde it was nearly white and a sharp-face look to him that reminded Chris of nothing so much as a switchblade. "Be a darling and call Estevan's and Marquell's and Coastal Atlantic. I believe Coastal can have replacement items here just before we leave if Anthony would be so kind as to use that lovely little two-seater he has and fly it up here. Monsieur Dervais, if you would be so kind as to make sure you add on any of the extra accompaniments need to accommodate the change in menu, I'm certain Michael can fit them onto his grocery list." She smiled sweetly at him. "And if you really feel you can't make the adjustments...just let me know. I have a wonderful friend who is a chef in Tampa. I think he'd be delighted with the opportunity for a challenge like this."

    Dervais looked outraged, Michael looked gleefully amused at his employer's tactics, and Chris could only chuckle.

    Michael had his cell phone out in a flash, moving away, lifting one pale eyebrow at the chef to encourage him to follow while Angela turned her attention to other things. The conference was over.

    Chris took the opportunity the momentary lull offered and sauntered in, approaching Angela as she spoke to her assistant, Amanda.

    "Scaring off the hired help already?" he asked her.

    She didn't jerk or startle: not Angela's style. Quiet and quick as Chris knew he could move, he'd rarely been able to catch her off guard.

    "Not the best help. You're here aren't you?" she said, turning around as if she had known he was there all along and just waiting for him to make his move. It was possible she had. Before he could think on it further, though, she was getting to her feet in a smooth glide and rustle of washed silk and ribbons. "Oh, Christopher! I'm so glad you decide to come along," she said open-armed and smiling, dark eyes bright with undisguised amusement and affection.

    Chris didn't hesitate to complete the offered embrace and a little more as Angela fit all her soft curves against the lean planes and hollows of his body like they'd been carved there just for her. She barely came to his shoulder, but even flexing to adjust to that, she was one of the most comfortable women he'd ever been privileged to hold in so intimate a fashion -- and it was intimate. If they'd been naked, their bodies would have been tangled together a whole lot more invasively. As it was, he had Angela's mouth open under his within a heartbeat and with only a flick of his tongue.

    She tasted of mint and chocolate, smelled of rosewater and talc, and stroked his sides and back with her fingers with all the knowledge and sanction only accorded to long-time lovers. Her arms crept around his neck as she pulled her head back and he held onto her for the pleasure of it. "Told you I'd be here. Have I ever lied to you?"

    "Frequently and with great finesse, darling boy. It's one of your great gifts to make those sweet lies mean more than the truth ever could." She wrinkled her nose at him and played with the fringes of his hair at his collar. "I'd have forgiven you this too, but I'm so glad that instead, I get the opportunity to show you how truly grateful I am that you're here. Have you been to your cabin yet?"

    "Nope. Came to find you first," he said which got him another smile and a delighted laugh. "I did run into your medic, though. He's here, checking into his cabin."

    "Nathan? Oh, good. I wanted him to come with me but he said he needed to get some supplies. Isn't he lovely? Very, very smart. Wonderful hands," she added with a slight look and Chris laughed.

    "You do have a weakness for the jacks of all trades."

    She pulled his hair playfully and withdrew her arms, gripping his biceps instead as they separated a little. "Why hire four people when one will do? Where did you meet him?"

    "On the way to the terminal building. He ran into a little trouble--" Chris said, and shook his head at her sudden expression of concern. "He says he's fine. Kids. Muggers. Nasty kids. He's a little bruised." Angela's hand suddenly stroked over his arms, along his chest, searching his face. "I'm fine too," he assured her. "Not even a scratch. He walked here though. Seemed fine, just sore."

    "Stepped in to help, didn't you?" she asked and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you. He's very dear to me."

    "Had some help myself," Chris said as Angela relaxed a little so she was merely holding his hands. "Another man saw it too."

    "Oh, I hope I get a chance to thank him. Worked for the port? Passenger?"

    Chris shook his head. "Don't think he worked for the port. Could be a passenger somewhere. Young. Nice moves."

    One careful plucked eyebrow rose. "Oh, yes? Fighting off muggers and you're watching this young mystery man move? Must have been some moves," she teased. "Or really boring muggers."

    Chris' grin got a little wider. "They were. Nice moves, that is," he said. "Name is Vin Tanner, but I wouldn't have a clue as to how to track him down."

    Angela smiled and stepped back, tucking her arm through his. "I'll see what I can do. No good deed should ever go unrewarded. Now, I think we should get you to your cabin, get you settled. In a few hours I'm not going to have two seconds to myself, and I'm claiming my prerogative as your hostess right now. Amanda, dear," she said turning to her assistant. "Please make sure the event coordinator knows that if I see a mariache band anywhere on deck before we get Cozumel, I will personally sponsor her in her first Gulf crossing swimming event. Richard and Elise seemed all right with the equipment set up in the playroom but I want to make sure the extra equipment isn't shoved into the larger gym. Some people will want to exercise other things than their libidos. Make sure the head steward has it moved out. They can store it on the lower decks if they like. We won't be using them."

    "I'll take care of it, Mrs. Redding. What about the dancers? We shifted and gave them most of the port berthing on deck three and the meeting room, but Cilla wanted to be sure the lounge would be clear for them to set up the salle."

    "Then she damn well should have been here at nine with the rest of the staff," Angela said. "She has all those lovely young hard bodies working for her. They can set up their own equipment. Put her in touch with the maintenance chief if she needs them. She's not getting paid by the hour. I'll be in my cabin and then on the forward deck at boarding time, should you need me."

    Amanda nodded, making notes on her clipboard and smiling at Chris as she moved off, pulling her headset back on. Angela wouldn't wear one, or a cellphone. If they wanted her, they'd have to come get her.

    "Problems already?" he asked as they headed toward the elevators, chuckling again when Angela lifted the ankle length drape of her burgundy skirt as they mounted the three steps up, to reveal a pair of teal high-top sneakers on her small feet.

    "No more than annoyances, although that chef..." Angela made a small growling noise that reminded Chris of a mother bear scolding her cubs. "I am not prepared to deal with the fallout from my guests discovering we're serving Chilean sea-bass or any other endangered creature when monkfish will do just as well. Or lobster. Or tofu for that matter. Although I swear, if I do this again, I'm making it a vegetarian cruise. I so rarely have people in my face about the future of endangered tomatoes."

    "Then you'd just piss off those very rich cattle ranchers," Chris said as they gained the elevator.

    "Probably. Or the Chicken ranchers..." Angela tapped the button for her floor, their floor, and snuggled up close to Chris. "Tell me trout aren't endangered anything..."

    He kissed the top of her head, setting his fingers to a soothing rub across her lower back. "Nope. Farm raised. Catfish too. Ostrich? Frogs..."

    He teased her and by the time they stepped off, Angela was laughing and smiling again, flirting and ready to concentrate on all the things that were going right.

    It was easy enough to do. She had a well-developed sense of humor and it was the rare few individuals that she allowed to watch that cool demeanor crack. Anger she'd show anyone, if she were motivated enough, but frustration or even doubt, were carefully hidden.

    The rooms were more luxurious than even the high end ones offered to her guests: half the ship would remain dark save for staffing and crew. But the luxury accommodations were in full use and she hadn't stinted on Chris' rooms either, which were the mirror of her own and connected by a shared salon.

    "Much nicer than last year's ship, which had a certain charm," Angela said as they entered and she showed him the connecting rooms. His luggage was already there, what little of it there was, his suits hung up with a note from the steward that he'd be by at Mr. Larabee's convenience to see them pressed.

    "I only needed the bed, Angel," Chris said after checking it out and returning to Angela's quarters.

    "Good lord, I hope you do something better with that bed than sleep in it," Angela teased and waved a languid hand toward the wet bar. "I'm parched, darling."

    It would have seemed imperious had Angela not flopped across her bed like a disgruntled teenager and toed off the high-tops. Chris got her a whiskey and soda iced and straight shot for himself. He passed the drinks over as Angela sat up and tucked her legs under her. Pulling off his jacket, he followed suit, pulling off his boots to lay down gratefully on the cool cotton duvet cover of Angela's own down comforter. Like a security blanket she took it nearly everywhere, the well fluffed covering smelling of her and softer than even the well sprung mattress.

    "So, is there anyone you like coming on this cruise?" he asked her, rolling to his side to sip his drink and watch her slowly unwind. His free hand slipped under her skirt to rub along her calf.

    She batted at him. "Yes," she said, feigning annoyance. "Although there's a great many more of them I simply don't *hate* just yet. But yes. I don't think I could do this if I didn't have some friends about me. Other than you. Or Buck," she said with a giggle. "Oh, I do want you to meet Isabelle. I think he's smitten. It's terribly funny to watch. Have you met her?"

    Chris shook his head, enjoying the feel of smooth, supple skin and Angel stretched the leg out, reaching out to stroke his hair. "Not yet. Heard about her, though. He does like to brag."

    That got more laughter. "Well, he should. Isabelle has been on my lists for years. She's smart but easily bored. Couldn't match her brains long enough to get her out of the house for more than a night or so. Buck's had her out and about nearly every weekend."

    "He's good for fun."

    "Yes, He is, among other things. She's a widow, did you know?" she asked and then glided past it before Chris could answer. "And she needs a man in her life...she knows it. Too busy looking for another man like her husband."

    "Got candidates?"

    "I did. But now I'm thinking I was looking in the wrong places. Still, you'll like her. She plays a mean game of billiards," she warned. "Don't bet against her until you see her play. Buck's going to owe *her* before they're done."

    "Let me guess, he took her bowling, didn't he?" Chris asked and grinned when Angela laughed and nodded, hiccuping at the thought of it. "Yes!! I nearly died. She's Harvard grad, theoretical something or other in business...applied...I have no idea. I always thought she was a tad too reserved, even when she was married. But...second chances. Everyone deserves one," she said, taking a quick glance at Chris.

    He ignored her, concentrating instead on his blind exploration of her upper thigh. Angela stretched a little, letting him take his time. "You aren't on the clock, you know," she said on a throaty purr.

    "No, but you are," he teased back. "You'll have to be doing the meet and greet in a few hours. I'd hate for you to be tense." He grinned at her as she finished her drink in a swallow when his finger crept up along her hip. "Why Mrs. Redding, you don't have any panties on," he said in mock affront.

    "It was horribly hot," she pointed out, then grinned at him, before leaning over to give him another kiss, much more lingering and soft, than her enthusiastic greeting in the ballroom. "I'm really glad you said yes to this," she said, nuzzling his hairline and the angle of his jaw.

    "Did you really think I wouldn't show?" he asked her, letting his arm push the silky folds of her skirt up to expose the creamy-pale thighs.

    "It occurred to me. And I would have been disappointed but not angry. This really isn't your thing, darling, and I know it, but I do think you'll have fun if you give it half a chance."

    "I feel like I'm being recruited," he growled, bending his head to kiss her thigh and along the curve of her knee. She smelled and tasted of flowers, and a little salt, Chris lapping at the backside of her knee joint like a cat, smiling when he felt the shiver run through her.

    "You'd be good at this...even without the bedroom expertise," she said, reaching across to stroke across his crotch, teasing the silk and humming softly when she felt the rise of his cock through his slacks.

    "But would it be any fun?" he asked, not really worried about the answer. He could smell her now, the rich woman-scent of her soaking gently into the silk as he moved his mouth up her leg.

    "Well, since you're planning on giving that all up anyway, does it matter?" she asked and Chris sighed and rested his forehead on her thigh.

    Angela sighed too and deftly undid his slacks. "Sorry, darling. Nothing too serious...I shouldn't bitch. *I'm* not losing you," she said and then softer. "I'm not, am I?"

    Disagreement or not, his body didn't much care as her small, soft and surprisingly clever hands touched and stroked him, and he nudged her to her side toward him, hiking her skirt up higher. Dark eyes regarded him seriously, concern and affection there, but not love. He swore not, and so would she. Sweetly. She was a better liar than he was.

    "Angela. Beautiful, clever, Angela. I thought you'd put a spell on me. From the first. Don't you have to turn into a frog or something to break it?"

    She smiled, then laughed, her fingers curling around him and she gave him a gentle tug and squeeze, chuckling softly when he grunted in pleasure at her deft touch. "Crone, dear. I have to turn into a crone and if you wait long enough you'll see it. What are you going to do?" she asked, pushing at his slacks, baring skin so she could touch and tugging at his shirt.

    "Well, I had planned on fucking you until you wipe that expression off your face and get back to work instead of worrying over my future." He shifted enough to pull his shirt off and let the silk slacks slide off his legs before rolling her to her back and pushing her skirt up above her waist.

    "Ooh, a man with a plan," she said and then took a sharp little breath and arched her hips as Chris pressed his lips to the crest of her hip, taking a slow arc along the underside of her rounded tummy.

    "A man with a goal," he said, blowing air across the tightly curled hair on her pubis, before taking the first taste of her. Salty-sweet and silky on his tongue and Angel squirmed, lifted, and dug her fingers into his hair, tugging at him.

    "It's a big bed, lover. Swing that lovely ass of yours up here," she teased. "Momma Angela has a taste for something of a little more substance."

    Chris smiled and then pressed his open mouth to her clit, laughing which made her squirm more and let loose a breathless laugh of her own. A lick and soft suckle and he moved, groaning against her when they were curled together with Angela's dark curls resting on his thigh as she stroked him and then opened that perfect, small mouth to take him in.

    Angela made it easy to forget who was working for who, or even that there was anyone working for anyone or anything but mutual pleasure. She'd made it her life's work to pursue it, managing to keep the people in the equation, and still never surrender that idea that life was short and you got out of it what you put into it. Chris believed it as well, had started too, but there was a darker edge to his own trust in that philosophy.

    Or just a darker edge to his soul. He could never quite decide.

    Angela did her best to make him forget. It was favor he could never really repay, but he tried, playing what he knew of her body, of her likes. Nipping sharply at the inside of her thighs and lapping hungrily at the sensitive nub of her clitoris until she was moaning around him, legs moving restlessly, the tell tale flutter of her belly and the short gasps for air indicating he had her close. Nearly close she had him.

    He shifted again, rolling to his back and catching her hair to pull her head up, pleased at the nearly black eyes, the brown mere shimmers at the edges. No condoms or barriers, Angela far past the point of children and both of them sure of one another, and far more cautious with other companions. She was wet and slick for him as helped her slide over his body, settling on him with an abruptness than wrenched cries from both of them.

    The silk of her skirt fell around them, tickling his chest and teasing his nipples. Wet silk inside her as she closed around him, muscles tightening as he pushed up and fingered her at the same time. Beneath his other hand, her breasts were molded and squeezed, nipples high and the flush of her painting the creamy skin a delicate pink.

    Whatever her age, Angela was limber and flexible, and probably would be when she was a hundred. He felt her clench and gasp, swear as she ground down on him, smiling when she felt the sudden upthrust of his hips, need driving Chris deep for his own pleasure. She outpaced him, slicking him further, leaning forward as she was seized and shaken, smiling at him when it passed but shaking still as she continued to move on him. "That's it, my beautiful man," she murmured, fingers stroking over the strained tendons at his throat, nails scratching at is nipples to bring them to small tight peaks.

    It was a lightning strike of sensation when his orgasm hit, and Angela rode him like the pro she was, then painted his lips with the barest dregs of her drink on her fingers before kissing him. She folded up against him and curled within his arms, once more humming to herself as Chris stroked across her back, pressing a kiss to her temple.

    "I have the perfect career, for you," she said a little sleepily but probably not really tired. Her mind never stopped working.

    "And what would that be?" he asked, smiling to himself since Angela couldn't see his face. Sated, he was still curious to know what outrageous thing she would come up with.

    "I think you should pen self-help books for brutish men without a clue but with some trace of obligation...A whole series of How to Please a Woman," she said on a chuckle. "I have interest in a publishing house, you know."

    "Shouldn't that be you?" he asked on a chuckle.

    "No, dear. I write the ones on how to best please a man," she said.

    "You would be an expert on that. Shouldn't it be an expose? I was a male whore?" Chris asked and heard and felt Angela's laughter rise up again.

    "Christopher, if that's all you were, we wouldn't be talking about your career."

    Chris sighed again and hugged her. "Angela, would you stop worrying about it? It's not like I need to work. You've helped see to that. Don't you ever think about retiring?"

    She pushed up, staring down at him and traced his face from temple to the cleft in his chin. "When they bury me and not a day before, my dear. Life is for living."

    "I live fine."

    "Mm...mmm," she said, eyeing him skeptically. "You live from job to job," she said and Chris set his teeth. She knew him too well and sometimes it was a pain in the ass.

    "Maybe I'll get bored in year."

    "I think you'll be bored by next week," she said but bent to kiss him again before climbing off him and heading for the bathroom. "You've been drifting for years, Chris. I have a vested interest in not seeing you drift away."

    "I'm not going to disappear."

    "You've already started," she said and closed the door.

    Chris let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his eyes. His body ached pleasantly, the rush from the fight had been eased by sex, and his mind was whirring as actively as Angela's. He could almost be angry.

    Almost. Because part of him knew she was right. And all of him knew they'd be having this conversation the entire cruise, as they had been on and off since he'd announced his decision.

    It had almost kept him from coming on the cruise -- which he suspected Angela knew, or guessed.

    Too many years, he thought, rolling to his stomach. Almost ten years now, ten years of answering to the quick calls of other people. It wasn't a bitter thought. Those people, his clients, were by and large both generous and selfish. Generous with their money, selfish in their needs. Since he didn't care much one way or the other about the latter for himself, the selfishness of others had been easy to meet. And he'd been lucky: lucky in meeting Angela, lucky that most of his choices had turned out well. There had been a few, a very few, dicey situations. Things to make him cautious -- or smarter. He gotten a thrill at being able to meet the needs of clients with special interests, special desires.

    He'd learned a lot about himself -- not all of it very pretty. It had been far easier than he'd thought to separate emotion from need...or business.

    He shouldn't bitch. He'd had his chance at something different and it had been snatched away from him. He had no desire to re-learn or revisit that pain. But now, he also no longer wanted it to be someone else that guided his life, planned it, gave purpose to his days and nights. Even knowing he could refuse, deny...he kept coming back to it. His reasons were really clear to him on why it was time to give it up. He just didn't quite have a handle on what was left to replace it with.

    It was time to find out if there was anything left but this illusion of a life he lead, and if not, whether the illusion would be enough to sustain him for another twenty or thirty years.

    Somehow, he didn't think so.




    The Cruise: Promenade

    Angela didn't bring the topic back up once she emerged from the bathroom freshened up and smiling. She waited for Chris to shower and dress before changing into a linen pantsuit of turquoise and a pair of decidedly spiky heels. She spent some time on the room phone with Amanda to make sure things were well in hand before letting her know they would heading for the observation deck and lounge. She called Nathan as well, Chris listening to her as the other man reassured her of his health and agreed to meet her in the lounge in a little bit.

    They had it almost entirely to themselves, although the crew and staff were in evidence, Angela requesting some kind of frothy blue thing and Chris settling for a cold beer. They took seats near the window, able to see the boarding ramp and the open area just beyond it.

    "Not going to greet each guest individually?" Chris teased her.

    Angela gave an unladylike snort. "Hardly. They'll be enough of that at the reception before dinner. The last thing most of these people want is some kind of formalized reception line like a state dinner. But... I will be having a more private soiree later -- those friends you asked about. Mostly people you know," she said, sipping at her drink and then scooting her chair closer to Both Chris and the window.

    Chris glanced down as well, seeing a multi-passenger tram pulling up.

    "Let the games begin," Angela chuckled.

    "Feeling like Caesar?" Chris asked her as the passengers sorted themselves out. No more than a half dozen but he could see another tram pulling away from the doors of the terminal.

    Angela snickered. "More like Caligula, preferably without too much bloodshed. Care to visit my playroom, little boy?" she said, running fingers along his jaw.

    "Only if you're the one wielding the whip." He caught her hand and kissed it, giving her a devilish grin. Angela in a playful mood was to be prized above all else.

    "Ooooh, you're evil, Mr. Larabee, getting a girl's hopes up." She winked at him but then her attention was dragged back to the window. "There...the one in blue with the amazingly ugly hat. Patricia Forsythe."

    Chris looked, eyes narrowed against the glare. As usual, he was a little surprised at the variations in age and at times, reputations of the people who sought out Angela's services, or her favors. The passengers ranged in age from late twenties to well-advanced in years. He focused in on the gaudy hat. "Forsythe Labs," he said, recalling the name from a news broadcast and other parties Angela had held. The woman was tall and spare, probably late fifties, early sixties, and the hat was amazingly ugly.

    "Exactly so. I'm a little surprised she accepted the invitation. She's not really a player at all, although I wouldn't be surprised to find she has a secret taste for young men instead of her usual companions..."

    "Which are?"

    "There beside her, in the Panama hat. Josiah Sanchez. Seminarian. Philosopher. Something of a humanist, or maybe that would be humanitarian. Also an odd one but not quite as academically inclined as that Ph.D. after his name would indicate." Angela said. "He's actually very interesting, practical and metaphysical all at once. Pat says he's a dream in bed."

    Chris laughed. "And you think it's odd she's here?"

    "Oh, not for that!" she said. "They've been seeing each other casually for about six months, but I know he's talked her into donating some ungodly amount of money into some charity or other. Enough to make me blink," she said and Chris studied the man once more. Above average tall and well built. Grizzled in a not unappealing way. Had a smile like overly ambitious horse but it fit him. Everything about him seemed larger than life. Watching him with Patricia Forsythe, Chris was caught by the ease that he assisted her, offering a hand or arm, always bending to listen to her, proper but affectionate.

    Until he caught Sanchez resting one large hand on Mrs. Forsythe's spare posterior. She blushed but didn't push him away. "She maybe up for more playing than you realize," he commented.

    "Late bloomer, then," she said, tapping her brightly painted nails on the table top. "I could see Pat coming if only to talk to Isabelle although they're both better in the boardroom. Still..." she tapped a few more times and then called a waiter over for a phone.

    Chris stared out the window while Angela put in a call to her office, setting another of her people to work on finding out what they could on one Josiah Sanchez, Ph.D. He glanced at her when she hung up. "Patricia is a very good friend," she said primly. Chris only smiled.

    And listened some more as she described the other guests. There wasn't anyone she didn't know something about -- she couldn't afford to take that risk, given the nature of the cruise and being in international waters would only protect her, or her guests, while they were at sea. Luckily, or more likely by design, people likely to take risks with their reputations or hers didn't receive the very special invitations. Chris catalogued what he could. Angela wouldn't be describing them without reason, as much fishing for anything he might have heard in his slightly different circles as to make him acquainted with their fellow travelers.

    "There! There!" she squeaked a half hour later. "*That's* Isabelle!"

    He knew Buck, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his oldest friend. Buck never changed and part of Chris was glad of it, recognizing the storm anchor Buck Wilmington was even if he rarely bothered to let his friend know it was so. He looked good: tanned and fit, dressed out in the most casual of garbs but still knowing how to make an impression even in tight jeans and a bowling shirt. They talked more frequently than they saw each other -- Buck wasn't much for the black tie dinners or parties, when he could be romancing in a more intimate fashion. He tended to run out his clients for weeks and months, bed hopping between them but keeping them satisfied on a schedule the airlines would envy. He liked the romance part more than Chris did, would rather have a client every night than spend his evenings alone.

    This latest enhancement to his bank account, if not his long line of partners, paid or unpaid, had proved more permanent than most. Isabelle Windham, Chris recalled from both Buck and Angela. Surprise of all, she was tall, long-legged and while not as buxom as Angela, very nicely put together. Not quite model-pretty but blonde and smiling at her escort.

    Even watching them from a distance, he could see the honest affection there -- Buck would offer no less and there were few women he'd ever met he didn't like. They were as playful as siblings, Isabelle only laughing when Buck flirted with a pretty crew woman and then flushed red with laughter when Buck pointed toward the ass of a retreating crewman.

    "I swear that boy could light up a moonless desert night," Angela said, affection in her voice as well.

    "He's always known how to grab for the bright and shiny things," Chris agreed. "Surprised you haven't tried to bring him closer into the fold. You two are a lot alike."

    Angela smiled and inclined her head. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Larabee. I don't know that Buck could ever settle enough for it. He *likes* being in the field. The bigger the field the better. Easily distracted."

    "Give him something to focus on and he'd do all right," Chris said, looking out again. A moment later he realized Angela was watching him with a gently amused expression on her face. "What?"

    "Nothing! You're a handsome man, Chris. I just like looking."

    "You're a fraud," he said but smiled to ease the barb and was rewarded by Angela's laughter again.

    The stream of passengers was increasing slightly, although it would never be a crowd like Chris had seen gathering for the commercial cruises. Here, the staff and crew almost outnumbered the guests, might actually do so if he counted in all the entertainers. Some guests brought their own little entourages -- not one member of whom hadn't been cleared by Angela as well -- but it wasn't common. There were no discounted fares for this cruise.

    "This should be interesting," Angela murmured, another dozen people in and described, and Chris looked.

    "Problem?" he asked watching an older woman and a younger man come close to facing off. The woman was lovely in that overly coifed way: bright blonde hair that long should have turned to silver was swept up in an immaculate bun, a dove gray traveling suit showed off perfect skin and a still appealing figure. She was escorted by a man probably ten years her junior: Dark haired and sober looking but the linen suit he wore wasn't off the rack.

    "Not really," she said with a faint smile. "I'm actually curious to see how this plays. The woman is Maude...Standish, something, something, Davenport. That's her husband, Richard. The other gentleman," she inclined her head toward the younger man with auburn hair and a decided flare to his dress and appearance. "Is Ezra Standish -- Maude's son by her first marriage."

    "A little familial dispute?" Chris asked.

    "Not...entirely. Maude isn't a stranger to the business. She just prefers to marry her marks rather than play mistress on call. I actually sent the invitation to Richard before they got married. He considers himself quite the swinger -- in the old sense, although I find it difficult to believe Maude would do the same thing. Indulging him, perhaps. Ezra has quite adeptly followed in his mother's footsteps, but he isn't interested in marrying well and he spends more time in Europe than here. Very successfully, I might add. I'm almost as surprised Ezra showed, as I was you. But I think he has a target or two in mind and far be it for me to interfere in his games. Poker or otherwise." She said softly. "I tried to ...recruit, as you say, Ezra a few years ago. His preference is for men, although I don't hear any of his ladies complaining and that's a rare find. Not everyone is as versatile as you and Buck."

    "He's nice looking," Chris admitted, although he was thinking more along the lines of damn nice looking, and recalling Angela's comment about the need to use his bed for something other than sleeping. Maybe he would at that. He watched the man watch his mother and her husband precede him. Standish hesitated, glancing at the ramp and for a moment, Chris thought he might actually get off the ship. He seemed to square his shoulders though and gave a white-toothed smile to the purser before checking in and being lost to Chris' sight.

    He let his gaze shift outward again and sat up a little, eyes sweeping over the couple coming up the gangplank. The man he didn't know: tall and bronze, broad shouldered and white haired although he didn't look that old. He walked with the rolling gait of a man used to riding horses, if the Stetson he wore weren't clue enough. On his arm, delicate features alight with laughter under the full, rich fall of her hair was a face he did know. The eyes would be blue-grey, the laughter like the ring of crystal and heady as wine. She was built all over like a woman most people thought existed only in fashion magazines: Full breasted and full hipped with trim waist and a flat stomach, soft curves at her buttocks. Chris smiled wryly to himself. "Isn't Ella a rival of sorts?" he asked.

    Angela flashed him a smile that was more perfunctory than amused. "Hardly. Brazen is what she is but Guy has lately taken a shine to her and it's not like I actually think she'll do me harm."

    "The man?"

    "Guy Royal, gentleman rancher. Newly invested in the oil industry," she said on a healthier chuckle. "He's a braggart and a poser, but he is also someone to know. He can be very charming, and he does have interesting appetites."

    "Like Ella?"

    Angela laughed in genuine amusement. "Oh, I suppose she's interesting enough for him and she looks good with him. But she's more his meat and potatoes and I can't fault her for knowing how to be a hostess to a man like Royal. Not that I need to extol Ella Gaines' charms to you, I recall."

    Chris gave her a brief grin. "No. Not really. You should thank her, Angel. She's the one that gave me a taste for this. I was always surprised she never landed herself a fleet commander."

    "Not for lack of trying. Too impatient though and while I can admire her skills, I wouldn't trust her to handle more than her own affairs. But, Guy doesn't mind sharing and she's more than willing to play his games -- which means I don't have to. Hmmph," she said and sat back to laugh. "Lord, for that alone I may have to send her a bottle of champagne and something sparkly to wear."

    "If you don't like him--"

    Angela shrugged. "It's not a matter of dislike. He was a struggling rancher a few years ago -- cattle. Beef. One of those who would get in my face if I didn't offer good American beef on my menus. Influential because of the size of his operation, more than the size of his bank account. A couple of years ago he struck oil. Literally. Instant player. He went from back rooms to ballrooms that fast. Now the esteemed senator for the Sovereign State of Texas relies heavily on his advice, if not his campaign contributions."

    "With interesting appetites."

    "Rumor has it that the esteemed senator has similar appetites," Angela said and Chris glanced at Royal again only to have his eyes catch on a flash of red and black and dark hair. He had the sunglasses on, not that Chris could have seen the color of his eyes from this distance, but he didn't need to. They'd be blue as the Florida skies overhead. He had his hair pulled back at this time, a thick ponytail falling just above his shoulders. His gaze seemed to rake over the ship, the gangplank, scanning the area slowly but leaning against the rail casually.

    It was Tanner, hanging back a bit as Royal and Ella spoke to the purser. "That's the guy that helped Nathan," he said and looked at Angela. She'd have known his name at the very least.

    "I suspected it. He does move nicely," she said, watching Vin as well, a smile on her lips. "I'll have to tell Guy about his boy's heroic tendencies," she said and glanced over at Chris. "I wasn't entirely sure. I've never met him. But Guy paid for his passage and Ella's and one other. Man named Tyrone Halsey. Bodyguard."

    "He need one?"

    Angela shrugged. "Guy thinks so, or maybe he likes having the extra muscle. He's pissed a few people off. No one on board that I know of, though."

    "And Tanner?"

    Angela took a sip of her drink and met Chris' gaze. "Latest and longest lasting trophy stud. Works for him regularly as well. As much a cowboy as Royal is and probably a good idea that he's got a patron like Royal. That's back country and someone of Tanner's preferences, if not Royal's, would need to watch his back for more than rattlesnakes. Interested?" she asked, smiling and Chris glared at her a little which made her laugh. "Darling, he's lovely. And Guy can be generous. I have no doubt he keeps his boy busy -- he's very much an...observer...of the human condition -- although not quite the way Mr. Sanchez is."

    "Likes to watch?"

    "Very much so and I can't blame him. I'm guessing that's at least part of his fascination with Ella...who has *never* been shy about showing off her goods. And speaking of Mr. Tanner, where is Nathan?" Angela asked, sounding more concerned than put out.

    The phone was brought again and Angela called.

    Chris stared at the top of the gangplank. Tanner was gone, but he kept looking, turning over Angela's information in his mind. He'd never have thought it. Not that Tanner hadn't given off plenty of signals of interest, but he hadn't struck Chris as a man for hire. Not that Chris thought he did either, but among his own set, there was usually something to clue him in.

    Or maybe he'd been too distracted by those blue eyes and that coarse voice to notice anything but how very nice Tanner had fit into the leather pants he was wearing.

    Angela hung up the phone. "One of Cilla's dancers took a tumble and Nathan's been taping his ankle. You'd think they'd be more graceful. So, I'm going to make sure Amanda has it all under control and make sure Nathan isn't over taxing himself. Care to join me at the rail in an hour to throw food to the fishes?"

    "Wouldn't miss it. You want me to tag along. Or I could check on Nathan for you?"

    "Would you? He's in 312 and that would be one less thing and you wouldn't have to deal with the confusion downstairs," she said and Chris rose first, offering his hand to her to help her up.

    "Angela, I can deal with crowds," he said kissing her cheek.

    "I know but you're here -- no matter that I'm going to take shameless advantage of you -- on vacation, as my guest, and I really did want you along to enjoy yourself. Relax. Give yourself some time to think and maybe to play. And I mean play, dear. You really could use some lessons in that."

    "I can't think of a better teacher," he said, walking her out.

    "Flatterer. Go check on Nathan and then and I'll see you in an hour or so," she said kissing him lightly.

    Chris watched her go and then chose the stairs over the elevator to make his way down, finding Nathan's room with no trouble.

    Nathan opened the door and seemed surprised to see him, then smiled. "Mrs. Redding sent you didn't she?"

    "I volunteered. She's afraid you're working too hard."

    "Naw. Easy stuff. I was heading out to find her."

    "She'll be at the rail in an hour," Chris said and then stepped into the room when Nathan opened the door wider. It was smaller than the room Angela had given to Chris but still comfortable enough, there was a tray on the desk where Nathan had apparently found time to grab a meal and Chris realized he was hungry.

    "They've got a cold buffet up in the staff dining room," Nathan said, seeing him eyeing the tray. "Appetizers and things for the guests in the main, but I wanted more than canapés and cucumber sandwiches. Early, but how about I buy you that beer?"

    Chris didn't mention that he'd already had two. "Sounds like an offer too good to refuse," he said and Nathan led the way, through corridors Chris tried to keep track of, and then gave up.

    The staff dining room was set up casually, but still had a full bar. Nathan grabbed two beers while Chris fixed a plate and they found a table near the back of the room. Nathan tapped his bottle to Chris'. "Not quite buying but thank you anyway."

    "You're welcome," Chris said easily. "Vin Tanner is on board too."

    Nathan gave him a wide-eyed look. "As a guest? I know he's not on the staff roster."

    "Guest of a guest," Chris said taking a healthy bite of a loaded roast-beef sandwich. "Works for Guy Royal." Nathan settled back with a less than thrilled expression and Chris chewed and swallowed. "Know him?"

    "Royal? Yeah. Met him a couple of times."

    "And not impressed."

    Nathan tapped the side of his beer bottle. "Not from my side of things, no. For a man who apparently built what he has from dirt, he doesn't seem to care much for the working class, if you know what I mean."

    Chris nodded, and wiped his mouth. "I do, but...Nathan...you know what this business is like," he said quietly. "You need to be careful what you say--"

    "And who I say it too?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow. "Chris, you and Tanner saved my ass back there. I think the truth is the least I owe you. Unless you're a friend of Royal's in which case...well, it's still the truth, as I see it."

    "Don't know him, except what Angela said -- and now you."

    Nathan nodded. "Well, maybe he'll ease into being regular folk here instead of trying to impress Mrs. Redding's other friends. At least I'll get a chance to buy Vin that beer."

    "Could be. So, you going to get down time?"

    Nathan nodded. "I think so. I usually do. No extreme sports on this cruise...well, hopefully not the kind that end in broken bones," he grinned. "Broken hearts are Angela's specialty."

    "When she isn't breaking them herself," Chris said with a quick smile.

    "True enough," Nathan said with a laugh. "Don't know anyone quite like her. Owe her a lot."

    "Me too," Chris said quietly. "How long have you known her?"

    "Little over a year," Nathan said, smile fading a bit. "Got kicked out of medical school and she...kind of helped me put it back together."

    "Should I ask?" Chris said.

    Nathan shrugged and took a deeper breath. "Got caught doing....well, what you do. Only I didn't have Mrs. Redding's safety net at the time."

    Chris took that in without changing his expression. Nathan didn't quite strike him as the type either -- but he'd been wrong about Vin. Or maybe he was losing his edge. Another good reason to get out of this business and figure something else out.

    "Didn't have the money to try to get in anywhere else, even if I could have gotten accepted. Angela...she helped me get my EMT certificate and license then hired me. A few years.. I may try again."

    "Were you close?"

    "A year and my internships." Nathan took a sip of his beer. "Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't meant to be."

    "That's kind of a lot to read into a little bad luck."

    Nathan nodded but looked unconvinced. "Can I ask you?"

    Chris smiled again. "How I got into this? Drifted, mostly," he said, hearing the echo of his conversation with Angela. "Easy money, no real commitments. Suited me at the time."

    "But not anymore?"

    "I'm not sure about that yet," Chris said. "Maybe."

    "Any idea what you'll do?"

    The annoyance flashed through Chris again and he scowled. "Seems to be a real interesting topic for a lot of people."

    Nathan held up a hand in a placating gesture. "I'm more curious than anything. I know you've done security for Angela."

    Chris forced himself to calm a little, sipping his beer and taking another bite of his sandwich. Nathan was just talking, and while it was possible he had an ulterior motive, Chris didn't think so, and didn't think his sense of people would fail him so badly.

    But he'd missed on Vin.

    He didn't know why it bothered him so. He'd met the man once for all of fifteen minutes. "I used to be a cop," Chris said, answering Nathan's cautious question. "Navy before that. Little old to roll back into a local PD and not really good enough for a private firm."

    "Angela would tell you it's not what you know, but who."

    "Might be true. It's a recent decision. I haven't sorted it all out yet, although I'm thinking Angela is going to keep at me."

    "Interesting pillow-talk," Nathan said on a chuckle.

    Chris joined him on a huff of laughter. "Yeah. Not much one for hearts and flowers. We talk more about her business plans than anything."

    "She trusts your judgment. That should tell you something," Nathan pointed out.

    "Think so, do you?"

    Nathan grinned and finished his beer. "You check out your rooms. No one else close. Room next to Angela's is for her private parties. One next to yours is where she's keeping her special party favors. You've got Michael and Amanda across the hall and not another guest in that section of cabins. And standing orders that no one gets up there without a pass or an invitation. I'd say, yeah. She trusts you."

    "Maybe she wants her privacy," Chris said, feinting, but a little surprised even so. She really had managed to give him a retreat of sorts if he wanted it. Or for herself, although he doubted it. Nathan confirmed his opinion.

    "This is Angela Redding we're talking about, right? Privacy is something she schedules. Not something she needs."

    True enough, Chris thought, finishing his sandwich. Whereas he valued his privacy almost more than anything else. He didn't dislike people but he had little patience for fools -- unless they were paying him for his tolerance.

    Laying his napkin on his plate he finished his own beer. "Probably ought to go try and find her. Thanks for the beer," he said with a flash of a smile at Nathan.

    Nathan laughed and got up. "You're welcome. Give me a chance when we reach Cozumel and I'll buy you one for real."

    "I might take you up on that," Chris said and they walked out together, but parted near the deck entrance.

    There actually wasn't much of a crowd gathered, or it just seemed sparser because the number of passengers was only a fraction of what the ship could carry. Angela would be someplace dockside and Chris walked it, eyes alert for her but he slowed when he found Tanner instead.

    Same clothes, hair down and loose once more. He had a bottle of beer in his hand. Chris stood for a moment, finding his first impression unchanged. Long legs were cocked against the railing, one booted foot braced on the lowest, Tanner resting his forearms on the upper rail. The breeze off the water had tangled his hair, the heat tacking his tank top to his skin damply. Everything about him stirred Chris to the familiar flash of desire and arousal.

    It was a pleasant shock to see the same thing reflected back at him from blue eyes when Tanner turned his head to look at him, like he knew he was being watched. That gaze raked over Chris from head to toe and back again with no attempt to hide the fact that Tanner was sizing him up, checking him out and pretty much seemed to like what he was seeing. A smile quirked the corner of his lips and he shifted, leaning against the rail on his side, hip shot and resting his unencumbered hand on the waist band of the leather pants. He found space enough to dig his thumb into the low slung leather when Chris would have sworn there wasn't room between the leather and Tanner's skin to get a drop of sweat through.

    Chris walked closer, settling against the rail as well and grinned. "You disappeared pretty fast. Glad you resurfaced."

    "Me too, now," Tanner said, no shyness, but it wasn't exactly a blatant invitation either, which Chris found interesting. "The Doc here too?"

    Chris nodded. "Yeah, just left him."

    "He doing all right?" Vin asked, concern real.

    "Seems to be. Up and around. Little stiff. How about you?"

    Vin shrugged. "Doing fine. So, you just wandering?"

    "Saw you come on board."

    "And came looking?"

    "Not exactly. Figured I'd run into you eventually. Kind of glad it wasn't with your boss."

    Tanner's smile slipped just a little. "He's getting his lady settled."

    "Ella. Know her too."

    "You know a lot."

    Chris nodded, resting an elbow on the rail and lacing his fingers together at his waist. "Angela Redding, who put this cruise together, is a friend."

    "Like Ella is a friend of Guy's?" Tanner asked, he was still smiling but there was something under it now -- a wariness maybe.

    "Kind of. More the reverse. I'm...more like Ella," he said, waiting to see how that hit Tanner.

    It relaxed him a little, surprisingly enough. "Man should have friends," he said easily.

    Chris nodded. "Should be an interesting cruise," he said. "You on call all the time?"

    Vin met his gaze then turned to look out over the dock again. "Mostly, but I should have time to myself. Want to occupy it?" he asked looking back at Chris, that smile firmly in place again

    It was brazen and brassy and the humor and lust in his eyes was enough to make Chris laugh out loud as well and nod. "I think I'd like that. You don't dance much do you?"

    "I dance well enough," Vin said and the low huskiness of his voice just added to the appeal of the package. "Life's short."

    "It is that. So, want to set a time and place...I'm on my own time."

    Vin smiled again. "That must be nice. All kinds of stuff on the schedule, but after the reception tonight. Boss will be busy rubbing elbows."

    Chris grinned again. "I'll get you a pass for upstairs."

    One darkly feather eyebrow lifted. "A pass? Got some status there, Larabee?"

    "Friends in high places," Chris grinned.

    Vin nodded. "That can be nice."

    Chris moved in brushing arms with him, mimicking Vin's stance against the rail. He could feel the heat of him, not confusing it with the sun overhead, and smiled to himself when Vin shifted a little, but let them continue to touch. A dropped gaze showed the leather straining at Vin's crotch. "Pants a little tight?" he teased.

    Vin chuckled. "A bit." He looked over at Chris' looser slacks shaking his head. "Smart man. Maybe we oughtn't to wait for tonight."

    Chris glanced back and around, seeing more people gathering and hearing a band playing somewhere. He should be meeting Angela soon and checked his watch.

    "If you've got somewhere to be, I'll hold," Vin said quietly.

    "Sort of, although...I might could manage it but..." Chris lifted a hand, finally fulfilling the desire to at least touch. He used two fingers to lift Tanner's hair from his neck, sliding his fingers through it. Thick, soft, curling around his fingers, Vin stretched his neck just that much in a movement so natural and so subtly sexual, Chris' felt that his loose slacks weren't actually sufficient to keep his building erection contained. "I think I'd like to have more time."

    "It is a seven day cruise," Vin reminded him, turning to face him again, closer than he had been, hip brushing against Chris'. Chris had the dizzying impression that Tanner might very well be ready to find a barely hidden alcove. He knew he was close to it. Desire wasn't anything new to him, and he could pretty much summon it at will, but this was entirely different. This was lust and desire and need all wrapped up in a blinding flash that left him a little breathless. Watching Vin's face, seeing the faint flush there, he didn't think he was alone. He couldn't recall feeling this way in a decade or more: reckless and dangerous, caution something other people had to worry about.

    Then just as suddenly Vin stepped back, the expression on his face gone just as quickly. It took a moment for Chris to realize it wasn't him, had nothing to do with him.

    "Tanner. Been looking for you,"

    Chris turned to see Guy Royal approaching, then he barely had time to acknowledge the man before Ella was sweeping forward.

    "Chris! I didn't know you were here!" She said, that throaty voice and the wide smile pulling a response from him without him realizing it. But then, Ella always had. He didn't even think twice about finding her in his arms, her mouth pressed to his, her tongue seeking entry without hesitation. Lipstick and perfume, heady and near overwhelming and he hugged her, aroused already from his encounter with Vin and it just carried over.

    Ella wriggled against him, laughing. "Happy to see me?" she said, taking his arousal as her due and Chris didn't try to dissuade her.

    "Always. You look beautiful, Ella," he said and she did. She always had been beauty, mixed ancestry giving her an exotic look without placing her into any kind of ethnic arena. Dark hair with hints of red, cream-gold skin and full lips and the blatant flash of all things feminine and aware of their power made her a difficult force to resist.

    "Thank you, sir," she said and glanced up, smiling over his shoulder. "My manners. Chris Larabee, this is Guy Royal."

    Royal was watching her indulgently, standing behind Vin with one arm slung in front of and across Vin's shoulders. He topped Tanner by a few inches, body both broader and more muscular than Tanner's. The face was weathered but still handsome, well bronzed from the Texas sun and the large hands were callused. Not a stranger to physical work, then. The smile he offered to Chris seemed warm enough but Chris was quick to note it didn't really extend to the pale blue of his eyes.

    "A pleasure, Mr. Larabee," Royal said and held out his hand without releasing his hold on Vin. Chris shook it, measuring the strength of it. "I take it you and Ella are old friends. Friend of Vin's too?" he asked, giving Vin what looked like a quick hard hug.

    "Met today. He helped me keep some kids from mugging someone," Chris said, eyes flickering to Vin's face. There was a neutral expression there. Vin still held onto the rail, beer bottle in hand, other arm loose at his side, but his fingers were flexing. It was the only sign of tension in his body, but it was there.

    "A hero!" Ella said, slipping her arm through Chris'. "We wondered where you got off to," she said to Vin, reaching out to trace a finger along his jaw.

    "Just can't keep you out of trouble, can we, boy?" Royal said giving him a little shake.

    "Wrong place, right time," Vin said.

    Chris watched Royal, feeling himself bridle a little at the possessive way he seemed to hold Vin. Marking his territory, Chris knew, and Vin allowed it. Then again, Royal was wealthy, not bad -looking. Tanner could do worse for a meal-ticket. Ella wasn't likely to tolerate a man who was truly abusive -- at least as long as it wasn't aimed at her. Tanner seemed more tolerant than anything and obviously not feeling any kind of serious loyalty to Royal -- or maybe he was freer to play a bit while Royal was occupied with Ella. "Good timing," Chris said. "Man we helped works for Angela."

    Royal looked pleased at that. Chris thought he might. "Then you deserve a reward, Vin. Maybe a little special attention." His other hand slid across Vin's hip to just above his crotch, Royal's mouth near his ear.

    It was so blatant to be almost ridiculous. There were enough people around to notice the open fondling, Chris catching smiles and laughter on their faces.

    "So what'll it be, Vin?" Royal asked, groping becoming more obvious as he cupped Vin's erection, pulling him slightly against him.

    For half a second Chris almost wished he'd been that bold, able to press his cock against the decidedly tight curve of Tanner's ass. They were still in port though, and while this was more or less the point of the cruise: to let the guests indulge in their fantasies in an atmosphere with few restrictions, Royal was demonstrating a certain lack of discretion.

    "I could use another beer," Vin said, holding up his empty and Chris couldn't stop the laughter from escaping him. Vin's timing, the slow drawl, the lack of involvement in Royal's touches or his suggestions, verbal or physical, was too perfect.

    Ella snickered as well, but Vin didn't laugh and Royal didn't either although he smiled, and withdrew his wandering hand. "Well, then why don't we just go take care of that?" he suggested but wasn't about to have Vin refuse. "Ella, why don't you visit with your friend and Vin and I will get some refreshment. Anything you want, darlin'? Mr. Larabee?"

    "They'll be serving champagne as we pull out," Chris said, still smiling but something in the way Royal shifted the lay of his arm to Vin's upper shoulders made him wonder if Vin might not pay for his little joke.

    "Little uppity for me," Royal said smoothly. "For Vin too, I think. We'll be back in a bit. I'll find you here, Ella?"

    "I won't move, lover," she said with a sweet smile and her pet name put a little more humor in Royal's eyes as he drew Vin away and back toward the lobby. Ella watched them, waving at Royal when he looked back. "Vin needs to learn to watch what he says," she said when they were gone, turning back to Chris.

    "Smarts off?" Chris asked and leaned on the rail again, back to the dock.

    Ella closed the distance, pressing close and laying a hand on his chest. "Sometimes. Sometimes Guy finds it funny."

    "Not this time, though."

    "He doesn't know you. Guy doesn't like to be at a disadvantage." Her arms crept around his chest. "Angela still got you tied to her apron strings?"

    Chris smiled down at her, pushing her hair back. Thick and soft like Vin's but there was a far less pleasant texture to it from gel and spray. "We're still friends," he said, tracing one carefully arched eyebrow. "Aren't you working?"

    Ella smiled at him, pressing more of her body to his. He could feel the ripe fullness of her breast on his chest, the smooth muscles of her thighs beneath the tight, short skirt. "I did warn him I might run into friends. Paying me doesn't mean he owns me. You know that, Chris."

    "Seems to think he owns Tanner," Chris said, tracing her lips with his thumb and giving her a narrow eyed grin when she bit the pad of his finger gently.

    "Vin's more entertainment than companion," she said and bit her lower lip, bring the flush of blood to its fullness. "I could drop a suggestion in Guy's ear. He can be pretty generous with his toys. I'd want something in return, though."

    Chris chuckled again and kissed her. "Let me see if I could possibly guess. I think it might be arranged."

    "Get Angela to untie a string?"

    "Don't have to ask," he said. "I'm not working this cruise."

    "I'd heard you might not be working at all..." Ella said.

    Chris sighed. "I should have taken out an ad."

    "Small circles, sweetie. You know that. So...take me to dinner some night."

    "We could skip dinner and head straight for bed."

    "You've lost all romance, Chris," she pouted. Very prettily he noted. He'd forgotten that.

    "I don't need food to romance, Ella." He kissed her again, not really in the mood to play with her. He'd rather be exchanging comments with Vin, or something more physical. "I need to find Angela."

    "I thought you weren't working?"

    "I'm not, but I am her guest," he said and leaned forward, forcing Ella to step back. "And I'm sure your host would rather occupy your attention than mine. I'll see you later, Ella. You really do look beautiful," he said and kissed her again but didn't give her time to speak or cling.

    And she was clingy. He'd forgotten that too. Royal might actually like that.

    He headed back toward the lobby, hunting for Angela and paused, seeing Guy and Vin. Royal had the other man against the wall, not touching him but obviously involved in an intense conversation. Vin had his beer. The bottle dangled from a two fingered grip as he listened to Royal. Royal looked serious but not actually angry -- chastising his favored boy, no doubt.

    Chris turned away. He really, seriously needed a drink, but the best whiskey he knew was in his room. He suddenly wasn't in the mood for much company.

    It changed in a heartbeat, though when he turned toward the elevators to see two hundred pounds of jean clad enthusiasm heading toward him.

    "Chris! Stuuuuuud!" Buck Wilmington bellowed, his pretty blonde following and beside her Angela.

    A bear hug later, Chris was introduced, willingly submitting to the Wilmington version of a shoulder massage. He'd probably have bruises but he didn't care.

    "Prettiest thing, ain't she?" Buck said of Isabelle.

    "You've outdone yourself, Buck," Chris said taking Isabelle's hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "If he gets on your nerves, you call me," he said and grinned, squeezing her hand. Isabelle laughed and blushed.

    "I'll keep it in mind, Mr. Larabee," she said extracting her hand. "I'm glad I finally got to meet you. You seem to figure prominently in Buck's tales of a misspent youth."

    "Only as a steadying influence, I hope," he said.

    The ship's horn sounded and Angela caught Isabelle's hand and Chris' arm. "Time to bid farewell to the port, children," she said, giving Buck time to sidle up to Isabelle and slip an arm around her shoulder.

    Most of the passengers had gathered, the gangplank being drawn away and the tugs already straining to pull the big ship from the dock. It wasn't quite as boisterous as some embarkations, but the champagne flowed and the confetti fell and the band played. Cilla's dancers came out to get the crowd moving until there was a party going on deck and there were shouts and waves from other ships as the liner moved along the channel. He caught a glimpse of Vin and Royal and Ella again then Ella caught Royal's hand to pull him into the dancing mass.

    Beside him Angela hugged his arm and watched her guests begin enjoying themselves. "I do love a good time," she said, pleased by the enthusiasm.

    Vin raised his beer in a salute but then found himself drawn in among the dancers by one of Cilla's troupe.

    "And you do throw a good party," Chris said, kissing her temple but his eyes sought Tanner's and found the other man looking back. "A little something for everyone."




    The Cruise: The Bet

    Angela had not exaggerated. Isabelle was a hell of a pool player. Chris shook his head with a wry smile as she sank the fifth perfect shot.

    "I think I should just quit the field. Leave some part of my ego intact," he commented as she set up another shot.

    "We could play three out of five?" Isabelle suggested. They had a little crowd of their own going, Chris watching money change hands as his opponent chalked up again.

    "I'd like to be able to put something up to risk, other than just getting my ass whipped," he said.

    "When you put money into it, it takes out all the fun," she said and sank another ball.

    He smiled at her comment, hearing it differently than she meant it but only took another sip of his drink. He was well on his way to being buzzed, which wasn't improving his game, but Isabelle had been steadily drinking Vodka Collinses and it hadn't seemed to do anything but improve her game. And he was enjoying himself even if he was losing badly. Isabelle was intelligent and dryly funny, all traces of the reported boardroom bulldog dropping away to reveal a woman approaching her middle years with the first indication that there was more to life than her work or her sorrow. He saw her more often in jeans and shorts than skirts, she and Buck taking full advantage of the entertainment facilities of the liner -- right up to the shuffleboard courts.

    Which was good as she talked to other people, spent more time away from Buck, Chris watching the signs and wondered how much longer Buck would have this filly to run. Not long if Chris were any judge and Buck would let it end as easily for Isabelle as he could, Angela presenting other opportunities for Isabelle to meet people, meet men. Find someone else to fill her nights and days if that's what Isabelle wanted. Sometimes the business had rewards other than money, and sometimes the rewards cost a little extra.

    Buck was resilient though, and not overly ambitious. He'd be all right. He always was and Chris dismissed the thoughts as they started to spiral out of control. It wasn't like him to worry about Buck overly much and plus he had a lovely companion to occupy his time at the moment. Even if she was beating the pants off of him.

    Even losing, he was pretty impressed and Isabelle was grinning happily. It didn't matter much -- his competitive edge had come up in the first couple of games but now he was just settling back into enjoying her obvious skill.

    Then it was over and Chris held up both hands in defeat. "I can only take so much," he said, but leaned in to kiss her check. "Best game I've played in years. You might be able to give up the boardroom for the pool hall."

    She laughed. "Too much fun to make it full-time."

    "If you're prepared for a little more, perhaps I can take up the challenge?" Josiah Sanchez's deep voice caught them both and Isabelle smiled.

    "I don't want Pat to think I'm stealing her beau," she said.

    Patricia Forsythe only laughed and shook her head. "No! Play. I can't play at all and Josiah is a sporting man." She found a seat when Isabelle agreed and Chris lingered only long enough to watch the start of the game, laughing to himself when Sanchez gave Isabelle the lady's advantage and the break. He'd be keeping Patricia more company than he realized.

    He wandered the casino a bit, the small scale Vegas bringing up pleasant memories and then heard Angela shriek with laughter from the back corner where the gaming tables were set up and he made his way there, wanting to see what had her so amused.

    They had a smaller table set up, players all looking foolishly pleased with themselves. Ezra Standish was dealing and he looked like a cat who'd found the source of the cream. Sitting on the arm of his chair, Carla Cortiz, one of Angela's more popular women of leisure, was offering encouragement, although Chris didn't think her presence was what had Standish looking so smug. Angela was seated too, as well as Guy Royal, Ella leaning across his shoulders. The fourth player was Buck, which seemed a little odd. From what he'd seen, neither Standish nor Royal played for anything less than high stakes. While Buck might be comfortable, he'd have to feel the pinch of even a hundred dollar opening bid and the chips were at least that high, although Buck seemed to have a decent pile in front of him.

    But while there were cards on the table, no one seemed that interested in picking them up, heads bent together and Ezra making notes on a bar napkin. Chris moved closer.

    "Independent adjudication," Ezra was saying. "Since I'm not actually part of the bet -- I'll keep the time. And the opening bid is five thousand that Mr. Tanner will be unable to resist Miss Gaines' charms for more than thirty minutes."

    Chris almost stopped right there and turned around but it was too late: Angela saw him, biting on her lip with laughter. Royal looked pleased, but a bit too confident and Chris wasn't sure he wanted to know why. There was a slightly dark edge to Royal's speculative eyes when they turned toward him and Ella looked like she'd been handed cake and the crown jewels.

    "Chris!" Too late when Ella saw him, beckoning him over. "You'll love this!" she said, an equal amount of speculation in her eyes.

    "Do I even want to know?" he asked, settling on the arm of Angela's chair.

    "Just a little healthy competition," Angela said, slipping her arm around Chris' waist. "Guy has put his young man's staying power in bed up against anyone who wants to challenge. Five thousand says Mr. Tanner can stay the distance for thirty minutes with Ella."

    "I'd say that's fair," Royal said on a chuckle, pulling Ella across his lap. "And just to make it truly fair, I'll give Ella the same five if she manages to bring him off early. Give her a little incentive to employ *all* her tricks," he said.

    Either way, Royal would be out five grand, Chris realized. The bet meant nothing -- the display did. And he had to wonder why, since he wasn't part of the bet, both Ella and Royal were eyeing him as if he had some stake in the whole thing.

    "Judges?" Ezra asked, meeting Chris' eyes. "Mr. Larabee. You have no investment in the outcome. Care to adjudicate? Mr. Wilmington?" he asked and then leaned back to hold Carla Cortiz's hand to his lips. "My dear? You would be an expert judge."

    Carla gave a throaty laugh, eyes sparkling. "I'd love to see this. Shouldn't we be talking to Mr. Tanner as well?"

    "He'll be fine with it," Royal said dismissively. "So, takers?"

    "I'm in," Angela said with a laugh, "But I get to judge for myself. I think anyone who does should get to watch," she said tossing the challenge back in Royal's lap.

    He only smiled. "As long as the accommodations can take the gallery. Ella won't mind, will you, darlin'? And Vin won't."

    He was very sure, something that bothered Chris if only because Tanner wasn't here to ask. Even so, he couldn't deny the idea sent heat to his loins. Watching had its own pleasures. "Sure. Why not?" he said and Buck chuckled.

    "Could put you up against, Tanner, stud...I might even find the money for that one," he said, with a broad wink and Chris grinned at him.

    "Awful free with money you don't have, Buck," he said.

    "Just sure of you," Buck said which got more laughter. "So, this little wager is gonna happen where?"

    "Spa Deck," Angela said. "Open suite and ...secluded," she added. "Mr. Standish, are you in?"

    "I wouldn't miss it, madam," he said with charming smile. "Mr. Royal, you stand to gain, or lose, a good deal of money."

    "But it will be a good time," Royal said with a chuckle. "I laid the bet, Angela has provided the space so, Mr. Standish, I believe you should set the time."

    "Will an hour be sufficient to prepare?" Standish asked.

    "I think so," Angela said. "I'll need to arrange for passes to the upper deck. Chris?" she said as he got up. "Cabin 704, in an hour, ladies and gents. Ella, anything you require besides soft sheets?"

    "I think I can manage," Ella said with a sweet smile.

    "I'll bet," Angela snickered as she and Chris headed out.

    "You bored?" Chris teased her.

    "Not really," she said with a bright smile as she stopped at guest relations to arrange passes. Done, she caught Chris' hand to pull him toward the elevator. "Guy's been chomping at the bit for some private fun and you can't tell me you aren't a little curious. I think he's been getting coaching from Ella. Shared passion, as it were."

    "You do like spectator sports," Chris said on a chuckle, as the door opened and she punched in and swiped her card for the Spa Deck.

    "As do you," she said purringly. "Something you don't get to do enough of, so what better time, or subject? You've been undressing him since you first saw him."

    "You're enjoying this way too much," he warned her but had to grin at the idea. He had been, and he was more than willing to play mock-judge to Vin Tanner's skills. As long as Tanner was willing, he thought and frowned a little at the niggling doubt.

    "I just haven't seen you on the hunt in too long a time. It's a pretty appealing side of you, Chris," Angela said frankly as the elevator pinged to let them off. "I've seen you at the other end of it...and you do make pretty prey, pet," she teased. "Although more like a tamed lion looking for a treat. Well, consider this my treat."

    "Five grand is a little steep for a cookie," he said but Angela only laughed.

    "Thirty minutes? Now tell me honestly, what's the longest you've ever lasted with her?"

    Not that long, Chris had to admit. Not when Ella was serious and she had a bit of enticement.

    He followed Angela into the suite beside her own, waiting while she called up room service to order refreshments and food for the room. She kicked off her shoes, had Chris help her move the chairs and the short divan into better positions to see the bed, giggling when he suggested they move the bed into the middle of the room.

    "I think it's bolted to the wall," she said. "Although if I had more time -- and room -- I'd have them bring single beds up here and we'd set up a nice little Roman dining room." When the room was situated to her liking she headed back into her own room, stripping off clothes and changing into something that looked almost like a negligee save the fabric was layered and revealing by suggestion rather than reality. "Come on, you can play consultant," Angela said, putting on a pair of dainty sandals before leading him down the hall to the other suite being used for storage.

    Private stock, Chris recalled, six steamer trunks of them with everything Angela thought she might want or need, most of it pulled from her own playroom in her private residence. Fabrics and scents, special foodstuffs and a variety of toys and tools. "Ah, my pretties," she said, opening a trunk.

    "I thought Ella had to do the work," Chris said as she plopped on the floor to open one of the trunks and pulled out a flat case, opening it. Beneath it was a tray of very elegant and carefully crafted lucite and glass dildos, plugs, and rings.

    "Well, yes, dear, but she is a woman and I suspect that Guy has his pretty boy well trained," she held up one slender wand of clear glass, the texture subtly nubbed. "Now, as a judge...I would think you get to set the ground rules. Or maybe I could just raise the stakes. Another five grand if he can hold on with this filling that nice ass of his. And you could be the impartial participant to place it properly," she said with a sly grin.

    Chris fingered it, his own ass clenching slightly at the slick feel of it. Smooth and cool, it would warm quickly, move easily with little need for lube. The looped base of it was wide enough for him to slip three fingers through it...offering control and strength. "I think I would want something a little more up close and personal to fill that nice ass," he said, handing it back to her.

    Angela arched and eyebrow at him and moved the dildo to the flat open case she'd pulled and was adding items to. "Maybe we should change the scope of the bet. Persuade Ella to give up her place, concede the field to you?"

    "Not for Royal's entertainment," Chris said with a tight smile and Angela sat back on her heels.

    "What is it about him that sets you off so? Ella? Tanner? Something else?"

    Chris shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. He just gets my back up. Too..." he struggled for it. Maybe it was a whiff of jealousy, although not for Ella. Royal could have her and be welcome. Maybe it was because despite the very real thread of sensation and attraction between he and Vin, he hadn't managed to do anything about it since Vin had made the offer -- Royal had kept him on a short leash and tomorrow they'd be in Cozumel, the journey half over.

    "Cocky? Confident?" Angela prompted. "I thought you liked that in men?"

    "Too slick," Chris said at last. "He's a player of a different sort. No sense of ...obligation or reciprocation."

    Angela though on it for a moment, then rose to her feet with an assist from Chris' hand. "Could be. I'm finding him...as charming as I recall. Brash though. And yes...maybe a little over-eager to make sure of his place outside the farm. That's not unusual in someone new to the scene," she said. Chris picked up the case and closed it.

    "No. But he's not a kid and I guess I'd expect more...restraint from a man who supposedly scratched out his own fortune. More confidence. This isn't so much fun for him as a way to score points. And competition's fine..."

    "But it can blur the lines between good fun and good sense," Angela agreed, securing the door. She glanced up to see room service already outside the other door, hurrying forward to open it and let them set up.

    It didn't come up again, while Angela directed the placement of food stuffs and decorated the room to her satisfaction. Chris retreated to change into something looser, having no doubt that by the time this little show was over, it wouldn't only be Tanner and Ella who were sweaty and slick.

    And he had little doubt that Ella would be playing for him as well as her new friend...and the promise of five grand, tax free. It had been she who had introduced the pleasure of watching to him: almost a guaranteed turn-on, and the need for restraint in the observing, half the pleasure.

    Loose slacks again and a wide-necked crew shirt made his wardrobe of choice. He left his shoes off: his room and Angela's only a step down the hallway. He wandered into the set-up, watching Angela with indulgent amusement as she spread silks over the bed, set out water and wine near the bed and a bucket of ice. There were towels set discreetly to the side and the chairs had also been covered in fabric and a few well-placed pillows were placed on the floor near each chair.

    "Looks more like you're setting up for an orgy than a display," he said.

    "If we get lucky," she said coyly and rose up on her toes to twine her arms around his neck. "I'm going to check your stamina when we're done, stud," she said in a fairly decent imitation of Buck. "Maybe even before they're done."

    Sweet arousal came unbidden as Angel rubbed against him, her cheeks already high with color and her eyes bright in anticipation. "Maybe you should volunteer to step in for Ella. I'm thinking you could get a man going without too much effort."

    "Don't think it didn't cross my mind," she said wickedly. "Been awhile since I personally broke in a hot young buck and taught him a few tricks. I tend to go for the blonds, though."

    "Lucky me," Chris said on a chuckle and kissed her again before there was a knock on the door. Angela groaned a little, stole another hard kiss and then went to open the door.

    Let the games begin, Chris thought, picking up glasses and pouring wine for himself and Angela before staking out the chair he knew she'd placed specially for them. Guy Royal's deep laughter and Ella's higher pitched voice brought his head up and he smiled and toasted them with the glass but didn't go to meet them, settling on the chair. He was glad of his decision when Vin entered, smile on his lips as he greeted Angela.

    Chris had thought he looked good in the leather but the thin sweats hanging low on his hips, held up by a loosely knotted drawstring, and the worn grey sweatshirt he wore, gave Chris reason enough to breathe shallowly. Ella's loose robe, showing an ample amount of cleavage and a flash of bare thighs above feet tucked into spiked heels were sexy enough and meant to be but it didn't really register on Chris' brain. Tanner did, which might say more about how long ago he'd lost his fascination with Ella's blatant and somewhat bottled sensuality than her actual appeal and the fact that Tanner looked sexiest when he was still and quiet. As near as he could tell, Tanner hadn't intended to dress provocatively, only comfortably.

    Angela was whispering something in Vin's ear, but Chris caught his gaze. He didn't get quite a smile, but a nod to let him know Vin saw him, before Vin turned his attention to Angela to answer her question. Then Royal was pulling him further into the room as Ezra Standish and Carla Cortiz appeared. A few minutes later Buck and Isabelle showed up, Chris a little surprised at Isabelle's presence but she only grinned at him and accepted a glass of wine, Chris playing bartender to Angela's hostess.

    Ella sat on the bed with Royal teasing her ear while the guests and judges settled in, Angela perching on the arm of Chris' chair. Vin got himself a bottle of water and took a swig, a quick glance over Angela's little box of toys sending what Chris was sure was a blush to his cheeks. But he fingered one of the clear implements, an amused smile on his lips.

    "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I would say all participants and observers," Ezra said with a smile and nod at Isabelle, "are present and accounted for." He flipped his watch over, setting the display and stopwatch. "I will begin the timing at the first...uh, indication of readiness on Mr. Tanner's part? If that is acceptable?"

    "Works fine for me. We'll let the judges call it...hard," Royal said with a chuckle, eyes lingering on Chris.

    Vin caught Chris' eyes as well but looked away quickly. "I'll take a five for business," he said, setting the water bottle down and stripping off his shirt. The muscles of his back were revealed first, shoulders flexing and accenting the tapered drop to his trim waist and narrow hips. Undressing wasn't for show, Tanner pulling his shirt off as he might do working and too warm. Chris caught a glimpse of a fresh bandage, this one of flesh colored cloth, on his side, but then Royal was on his feet, reaching into his pocket to hand Vin a small box of condoms. Vin took it and listened as Royal whispered in his ear.

    Drinks were refreshed and Angela set some music, a little soft and unobtrusive, lowering the lights a fraction but leaving the bed illuminated. It was not unlike a bad porn movie, Chris thought, save that he thought it might be better than most. He let his eyes follow Vin as the man headed for the bathroom. The broad shoulders were set, face impassive although not entirely uninterested, just...not entirely involved, Chris thought.

    "That's it, darlin', let us see it all!" Buck was calling and Chris brought his attention back to where Ella was letting Royal pull the robe from her body. Even naked she looked like a queen, making a show of it for Buck, for Royal, even for Isabelle and Carla. Ella liked being looked at and admired, and she'd never been shy, Chris recalling a time or two when she'd gotten up at a local strip club, just for the hell of it. They'd both been younger and a whole lot more interested in the thrills than anything. Ella had come out those clubs a few hundred dollars richer, every time. Daring Chris and Buck to do the same at a male strip joint.

    They'd done it too, getting a rush off the excitement, the admiration, the palpable sense of lust in the air. Powerful and heady stuff when you were twenty-two and the rest of your life was all about order and structure. It had taken those outrageous nights for Chris to seriously start to consider what Ella had been suggesting for months...easy money, great sex, but not the desperate edge of it that he saw on the faces of the hookers on the streets.

    Ella still got off on it, laughing now and tossing her hair, even offering a kiss to Carla just to get the blood in the room flowing. She was canny enough not to offer the same to Isabelle who was watching Ella with wide-eyed amazement, but while the color was high in her cheeks, she didn't seem shocked -- curious and fascinated more like. Laughing when Buck gave her a kiss and settled her across his lap.

    The bathroom door opened and closed again, and Vin emerged, still in his sweat pants but he kicked off his shoes and handed the box back to Royal before skimming the pants off his hips and legs and Chris found his attention taken up fully once more. The condom was already in place, his dick still soft enough to fold laxly over his balls. He was also entirely bare, Chris noted with a little thrill, Vin's groin shaved clean as opposed to the carefully shaped pubic hairs at Ella's pussy. Near hairless elsewhere as well, but naturally Chris thought, except for the thick fall of curls framing his face, and the thinner wisps under his arms. His hair looked nearly black compared to Ella's highlighted chestnut locks.

    "Very nice," Angela murmured in his ear, fingers delving through Chris' hair.

    Unselfconscious too, Chris saw, liking the casual confidence as Vin bared his body. He gave a little shiver like the room was too cold but he didn't hesitate to approach the bed, giving Ella a half smile. Tight, firm buttocks flinched a little as Ella let her hand roam over his hip and back, nails scratching lightly on his skin. She reached for the night stand, finding the small bottle of oil and spreading it over her hand, before laying her fingers along the length of Tanner's dick, pushing the edge of the condom back toward his groin before stroking in earnest. She smiled up at him and Chris watched his hand rise and hesitate then stroke through her hair as she worked him. He was already showing sings of arousal, skin already flushing, but he was breathing deeply and steadily.

    There was hardly a sound in the room save the music and the combined rhythms of their breathing. Royal was sitting back casually on the small divan, within reaching distance of Carla, but eyes fixed on his two companions. He looked keenly interested.

    Ella's fingers worked relentlessly, sliding over the thickening shaft, over and around it, Vin rocking ever so slightly to meet her hand, watching her. He was not so much long as thick, the red flush showing through the translucent latex.

    Chris almost missed Ella's soft request for judgment. Vin was flushed and hard, cock rising hard and full toward his belly.

    "I think that counts," Chris finally managed, Carla and Buck echoing him.

    "Think you could save some of that for me, Vin, honey?" Carla called out which made Vin chuckle a little and the tension in the room ease back a bit.

    "Time is called, ladies and gentlemen. Miss Gaines, please do your worst," Ezra said which got a laugh from Ella.

    Vin's participation was minimal as Ella bent her head, licking and then covering the head of his cock with her lips, leaving faint smears of lipstick on the condom and Chris took a deeper breath. He knew too well how skilled that mouth was and his groin throbbed in envy as Ella sucked and bobbed, alternating her speed from long slow strokes of tongue and hand and short, harsh sucking. Vin's back was rigid, legs nearly locked and his fingers carded through Ella's hair, his other hand rubbing across his belly as he let his head fall back. Bet or no bet, he wasn't trying to force his body to remain unresponsive to the talented mouth working over his cock. If anything he seemed to want the inevitable orgasm to come quickly, no matter that his patron had ten grand riding on this bet.

    A quick glance at Royal showed the man only watching avidly, seemingly uninterested in Vin's lack of resistance. The pale blue eyes flickered from Ella to Vin, but all he could really see clearly was the back of Ella's head so his gaze lingered on Vin's body, on his face.

    Not a bad place to be looking Chris thought, feeling his cock stir at Vin's response and he pulled Angela a little closer, slipping his hand under the skirt of her dress to stroke her thigh. Ella lifted her head, breathing softly, smiling at Vin's quickened breath and stroked him with her hand for a moment, reaching up to tease one rosy-brown nipple. It peaked beneath her fingers, Vin gasping sharply when she pinched and twisted it a little. Still stroking him, she applied her tongue and teeth to his belly and his hip, licking and sucking, leaving small marks on the skin before getting to her feet to continue the marking up his chest. Vin reached out to steady her on her heels, their height enough to almost bring them equal. His hands moved over her skin, along her sides and across her ass, Ella falling into the rolling pattern of rock and sway. She went for his jaw and mouth but before she could kiss him, Vin ducked his head, nuzzling her throat.

    Maybe Vin was more cognizant of the bet than he appeared because he was certainly distracting Ella from her objective as her hand left his cock to rub across his tight ass and up and down along his crack.

    The heat in the room notched up a bit, the real competition now between Ella and Vin. Vin's hands roamed, squeezing flesh and stroking slowly, cupping the full weight of her left breast in his hand before bending to nuzzle it, taking the already tight nipple between his lips and sucking.

    Chris heard the vague murmur of Buck's voice, Isabelle more securely in his lap and one hand resting between the tight wedge of her denim clad thighs. Carla was murmuring into Ezra's ear and he was paying half a mind to her, petting what skin he could reach, but his eyes were riveted to the pair by the bed. Chris' own hand crept further up Angela's leg and he shifted a little so she could move down in the broad chair, grinning at her when he realized she, once again, wasn't wearing panties. She shifted her legs a little wider but she didn't look at Chris, only smiled, fully enthralled by watching Vin and Ella trying to devour each other.

    And Guy Royal looking ready to eat them both, leaning forward with another full glass of whisky, the bottle at his feet and Chris had never seen him move. The look on his face was hungry, lustful, smiling a little as Ella finally tugged Vin to the bed, on her knees, Vin following when she took him by the cock to lead him. She tugged on it playfully and Vin grunted softly, face and chest flushed but his dick was still fully hard, darkly red.

    "Ten minutes," Ezra announced softly and Chris barely heard him, shifting forward a little to bring Angela between his thighs, his own cock riding hard and high against his slacks. He felt Angela tremble a little as he stroked along the crease of her vagina, feeling the wetness there and nuzzling her throat but his eyes were fixed on Ella and Vin, glad they'd taken to the bed crosswise so he could see them. See Vin most of all as Ella pushed him to his back, straddled his legs, before curling over him to take his cock in her mouth again. He didn't even m