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15 Eylül 2023, 02:24
Trent woke to the morning light coming through the porthole. It took him several moments to remember where he was. He lifted his bunched fists to his eyes to rub out the morning dirt.
"Awake?"
He ran through his index of men to determine whose voice it was. It certainly was someone he knew. He turned his head toward where the sound had come from. The stage director. Now Trent remembered the previous night, even though it wasn't a particularly memorable one once he started back to his cabin. Oh, well, he'd already decided it was time to give the director more attention.
"Uh, uhm." He started to roll toward the side of the bed, away from the stage director's body stretched out beside him. But a hairy arm came down over his torso and started to turn him back to the center of the bed.
"Um, Erick. It's morning. Or afternoon, or whatever."
"So what? You know what I like in the morning. It hasn't been that long that you should have forgotten."
"Gotta go. We should be anchored at Coco Cay."
"So?"
"I have a tour. Over on the island."
"Forget about it." The stage director had a tight hold on Trent, and as he was turned toward the older man, Trent could feel that the man was hard. "We'll be back next week?and the week after that. You can take the tour later."
"I've paid for it, Erick. And I've gotta get off the ship for a while or I'll explode."
"When is the tour?"
"1:00 p.m. Over on the island. And I'll have to tender in."
"It's only nine. We have plenty of time."
Trent had managed to struggle out of the stage director's arms, though, and sat up on the side of the berth. In one fluid motion from there he stood up beside the bed. He immediately felt wobbly, though, and almost collapsed back on the bed before he could get his balance. Erick reached out for him, but Trent moved away from the bed.
"Spoil sport. Tease," Erick murmured. But he wasn't scowling, so Trent decided he hadn't pushed not doing as the stage director wanted too far.
He pulled on his jeans and gathered up the briefs, T-shirt, and loafers he'd been wearing the previous evening.
"God, you're beautiful," the stage director muttered. "Just like you'd strutted out of an Abercrombie
"Awake?"
He ran through his index of men to determine whose voice it was. It certainly was someone he knew. He turned his head toward where the sound had come from. The stage director. Now Trent remembered the previous night, even though it wasn't a particularly memorable one once he started back to his cabin. Oh, well, he'd already decided it was time to give the director more attention.
"Uh, uhm." He started to roll toward the side of the bed, away from the stage director's body stretched out beside him. But a hairy arm came down over his torso and started to turn him back to the center of the bed.
"Um, Erick. It's morning. Or afternoon, or whatever."
"So what? You know what I like in the morning. It hasn't been that long that you should have forgotten."
"Gotta go. We should be anchored at Coco Cay."
"So?"
"I have a tour. Over on the island."
"Forget about it." The stage director had a tight hold on Trent, and as he was turned toward the older man, Trent could feel that the man was hard. "We'll be back next week?and the week after that. You can take the tour later."
"I've paid for it, Erick. And I've gotta get off the ship for a while or I'll explode."
"When is the tour?"
"1:00 p.m. Over on the island. And I'll have to tender in."
"It's only nine. We have plenty of time."
Trent had managed to struggle out of the stage director's arms, though, and sat up on the side of the berth. In one fluid motion from there he stood up beside the bed. He immediately felt wobbly, though, and almost collapsed back on the bed before he could get his balance. Erick reached out for him, but Trent moved away from the bed.
"Spoil sport. Tease," Erick murmured. But he wasn't scowling, so Trent decided he hadn't pushed not doing as the stage director wanted too far.
He pulled on his jeans and gathered up the briefs, T-shirt, and loafers he'd been wearing the previous evening.
"God, you're beautiful," the stage director muttered. "Just like you'd strutted out of an Abercrombie