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  Danielle's body jerked and bumped against the locker as she cried out, "Fuck me! Harder!"

  Amanda's fingertip flicked against her clit, harder and harder, as she willed herself to come, praying for release, forgetting she'd wanted to save herself for Nick. She stared at the copulating couple on the locker, imagining herself in Danielle's place. A rivulet of pussy juice ran down the inside of her thigh, and her finger worked faster.

  Abruptly, the sailor stepped back and pulled Danielle's small body off the locker. He gestured toward the deck, and she laughed loudly. With a saucy toss of her ponytail, she dropped onto all fours and wiggled her naked butt in the air. The man grabbed her butt cheeks and spread them wide. Amanda's fingers froze in mid-stroke. She was horrified, yet titillated. Danielle tried to crawl away, but the man held her firmly. She stopped struggling and the man buried his cock in her ass, grunting and growling like an animal.

  The ship exhausted the engine room fumes in a loud, heavy rush of air from the funnel, startling Amanda into action. The base scene sent all erotic visions from her head, and revulsion rolled through her stomach. Stunned, she turned and stumbled back along the gangway, desperate for the safety of her cabin.

  * * *

  Nick watched the scene from the shadows of the funnel. From where he stood, he could see the girl and Boxer, and Amanda watching from the main deck. Best porn flick I ever watched. Mostly, he watched Amanda's reaction to the raw sex on the locker. Danielle was egging the sailor on, begging him to fuck her, and Amanda's face glowed with that same desire. Nick smiled, seeing her hand slip into her pants, the frenzied movements beneath the fabric, as she watched and masturbated. She'd be so ripe by the time he finally put it to her, she'd never forget it.

  His attention returned to the young girl's situation. Her sexy taunts escalated Boxer's lust, and Nick scowled. Obviously, she had no idea what she was getting into. Boxer wasn't happy with just a willing cunt—he wanted ass, and she'd have no control over him. He was one of the most unsavory crewmembers on board, and rumor had it that the former prizefighter swung both ways on a long voyage. Man or woman, he didn't care, as long as he got his rocks off every day. Nick narrowed his eyes and watched Boxer butt-fuck the girl. A glance back at Amanda revealed that the change in atmosphere had transformed her attitude. Now, fright shadowed her fine features. He frowned as she turned and fled down the gangway. She'd really need some sweet-talking now.

  * * *

  By the time Amanda reached the cabin, she was gasping. Years ago in college, she'd seen X-rated movies with lots of sex, but never anything that had affected her so negatively. Rolling over on her bunk, she drew her knees up close, trying to swallow her tears. What am I doing here? Toying with a misadventure like Danielle's? Would Nick lose control and hurt her? Take her any way he wanted, whether or not she was willing? A flutter of excitement pushed into her anxiety. Safe inside her cabin, the heady sensations returned full force. Watching someone else's lust had been an unbelievable turn-on. Just what was she willing to do? She opened her eyes and stared at the wall. She didn't believe Nick would ever turn into such an animal. He acted as though he wanted to teach her the things she longed to know, and she felt ready. If things got rough, she could control him—she was sure of it.

  Another thought jolted through her head. Just what did she plan to do with her newly found worldly experience? Who would she practice on at home? Calvin? Good God, no! She couldn't envision him holding her hand or kissing her, let alone... She exhaled slowly. This trip was her only chance to feel like a real woman before she returned to the oblivion of the English department, and the tedium of Buggles's infatuation.

  A soft knock on the door brought her straight up on the bunk. She waited, holding her breath. The knock came again, followed by Nick's deep voice.

  "You are okay?"

  She closed her eyes and exhaled, then padded across the soft carpet to open the door.

  His handsome features showed concern, his eyes questioning. He didn't move to enter.

  "I saw you on bow."

  Shame washed over her. He'd seen her masturbating as she'd watched those two animals have sex.

  She looked down at her hands. "I'm fine."

  He touched her shoulder, his voice solemn. "Is not good idea to roam around by yourself at night. You see why?"

  She nodded, unable to look at him. "Yes, I do."

  He squeezed gently and stepped back. "I have much work tomorrow in port. I see you on bow at sunset."

  He disappeared down the dark companionway, and she slowly closed the door, wondering if she'd have the courage to pursue the magic of being with him.

  12

  Captain Olsen's cheerful voice boomed through the mess hall door.

  "Good Morning! Everyone ready for a day ashore?"

  The crewmembers applauded, and the bustle of breakfast began. Amanda glanced toward the end of the table. Rachel sipped her coffee and talked quietly to one of the staff. Danielle was absent. Amanda swallowed hard, wondering if the girl was all right. Maybe I should check on her. But how? I can't very well say I watched her get screwed. Again, unsettling warmth stirred between her legs at the memory of the debauchery.

  Captain Olsen touched her arm; she jumped, and he chuckled.

  "So sorry...Would you join me for lunch today? I know very cozy café in town. You will like it."

  "I need to do some shopping, but thank you very much. Maybe another time."

  Olsen shook his head, his jolly expression sobering. "I will escort you to the shops. This port is not a place for ladies to wander alone. I will meet you on pier at ten."

  She nodded silently, acutely uncomfortable with the captain's echo of Nick's warning.

  * * *

  Nick dragged heavily on his cigarette, then angrily flicked the butt overboard. Hostility punched him in the gut as he watched Amanda walk down the dock on Olsen's arm, the old fool all puffed up and cocky, thinking she admired him. With each step, her hips swayed deliciously under her baggy pants. She was completely oblivious to how sexy she was. He liked that. Women wrapped up in themselves were a turn-off, an assault to his ego—what was left of it. Bitterness crept into his thoughts and he distanced himself from the gentle reflection. Amanda would be a good fuck—that was all. He didn't intend to open his heart ever again to some bitch.

  The gears on the huge winch groaned into motion, and Nick buried himself in the work that had kept him safe from himself for the past four years.

  * * *

  Amanda nodded politely, only half-focused on Captain Olsen's banter as he waved his fork in the air to punctuate the high point of his story. His voice faded into the background chatter, and she allowed the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant to seep into her spirit. Lush palms and exotic-looking bromeliads edged the outdoor terrace, intermingled with large pots of shockingly brilliant flowers. The courtyard rang with laughter and talk that drifted through the thread of foot-tapping music. A perfect place for a romantic afternoon, a secret tryst with a handsome sailor, dark and brooding. Visions of Nick floated into her head and her thoughts turned to the last encounter with him. A murmur moved through her pussy and she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation.

  "You are ready to go shopping?"

  She blinked, and Nick's image disappeared, replaced by Olsen's ruddy face. Damn, I wish I could get rid of him.

  "Captain, you really needn't escort me." She gestured at the lunch crowd. "I feel perfectly safe. I have traveled abroad before." Right. One field trip to London with eighteen college kids. Not exactly globe-trotting.

  Disappointment darkened Olsen's eyes, and Amanda instantly knew her suspicions were correct. Her safety was not his main focus. It was also clear that he didn't intend to leave her alone.

  He touched her hand. "Miss Amanda, it is no trouble. I enjoy being away from the ship for a breather, as you Americans say." He rose and offered his arm. "Come, the shops will be opening again. And please, call me Lars. Captain is too formal."

 
Outside on the street, the afternoon sun beat down on Amanda's head, a reminder that she was in the tropics, far from the still-cool temperatures in northern New England. So far away and so long ago. She felt as though she'd been away for months, not days. She smiled at the cobbles beneath her feet. A fantasy world, and I'm invisible to the plain vanilla life I left behind. She chuckled to herself. Wouldn't Cal and Foster be stunned!

  Olsen's voice intruded again, stirring her annoyance. "We go to the new town. There you'll find many excellent shops. High fashion clothes, good leather."

  "Cap—er, Lars, I'd like to stay in the old part of town. It's so charming, I'd like it to be my lasting impression of this country." She slipped her hand from his arm and gave him a demure look. "I need to find a drugstore." She looked away, feigning embarrassment. "I need some, uh, personal things."

  His face reddened with understanding. "Of course. I will show you."

  He took her elbow and propelled her across the narrow street toward a line of small shops. They stopped in front of one with a sign that read, "Pharmacia." Jeez, I could have found this by myself.

  He released her arm. "I will wait here for you."

  Inside the tiny shop, Amanda let her eyes adjust for a moment, then her shoulders drooped. Everything was in Spanish—a language she'd studied briefly in college, then abandoned as being useless for an English teacher. She started down one cramped aisle, inspecting the array of boxes, bottles, and packages, looking for a telltale picture or brand name. She wandered up and down the three rows of merchandise, finding nothing. Great, now what? She glanced at the male cashier at the front of the store. No way am I asking him.

  A soft voice startled her. "Could I help you find something?"

  A tall, red-haired woman tilted her head, questioning with brilliant blue eyes, a friendly smile creasing her deeply tanned leathery cheeks.

  Amanda knew it would be her only chance.

  "Uh, thank you." She blushed and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'm looking for..." Would she even be able to say the word? "...Uh, condoms."

  The woman grinned and shook her head. "Not in here. This is a Catholic country. Go to the walk-in clinic at the end of town. They'll have them, but be ready for disapproving looks." She turned to leave, then cocked her head. "Why doesn't your husband run his own errands?"

  Amanda was so mortified she couldn't answer. With a curt nod, she turned and fled the shop.

  The brilliant sun blasted her eyeballs with pain, and she fumbled for her sunglasses. When her eyes stopped throbbing, she looked around for the captain and spotted him sitting on a bench, deep in conversation with another bearded man in uniform. Olsen laughed and slapped his knee, then caught sight of her. She waved and pointed at a rack of clothing on the sidewalk. He nodded and returned to his conversation.

  Exhaling sharply, she made a pretense of looking at the colorful garments. Her brain whirled. She couldn't go to the clinic with the captain hanging around, and he clearly didn't intend to let her out of his sight for more than a moment. She was screwed. Hah! Wishful thinking! Her fantasy voyage was over unless Nick was prepared.

  She moved into the cool shadow of the doorway. Another rack of clothing hung just inside the door, and she idly moved the hangers aside while she tried to dispel her disappointment. A gauzy white peasant blouse caught her eye and she pulled it from the rack. The delicate fabric was beautifully hand-embroidered in white, the neckline ruffled and elasticized to be worn off the shoulder. Could I wear something like this? She grinned wickedly. Why not?

  A small brown woman silently appeared beside her. "Is beautiful, yes? Perfect for you, I think."

  Amanda smiled, enjoying the new experience of shopping for beautiful clothing. "May I try it on?"

  At the back of the shop, a corner had been draped off into a booth. Amanda stepped inside and shrugged out of her baggy shirt. She slipped the lovely blouse over her head, adjusting the fabric across her ample breasts. When she pushed back through the curtain, the shopkeeper's voice bubbled with admiration.

  "Is perfect! You look beautiful." She pointed to a speckled mirror. "Look."

  Amanda stared at her reflection, amazed at the change in her image.

  The woman reached up and drew the neckline of the blouse down over Amanda's shoulders. "You wear it this way, you drive your man crazy, no?"

  An image of "her" man slithered into Amanda's mind, and her nipples hardened, tenting the soft fabric. Immediately, her thighs grew warm and moisture pooled in her crotch. She met the shopkeeper's eyes in the mirror.

  A deep knowing chuckle accompanied the woman's comment. "Yes, I think you know how you affect him...Wait here."

  She disappeared into the crowded racks, and emerged a minute later with a beautiful long skirt.

  "Complete picture. And is nice and cool for our weather." She winked. "Is very easy for man to get under."

  Amanda's heat flared at the thought of Nick burying his head under the captivating garment, seducing her wherever they happened to be, hidden by yards of brilliantly colored gauze. The images sent another wave of need through her core, and wetness trickled down her leg. Embarrassed, she whirled away from the mirror, sure that the woman could smell the distinctive scent of desire.

  "I'll take them both."

  * * *

  When she emerged from the dark little shop, she glanced toward the bench where Olsen had been sitting. His group of companions had expanded to four—all uniformed and, obviously, familiar acquaintances from his travels. One of the men looked up, then all four heads swiveled toward her. Olsen jumped to his feet and hurried across the sidewalk, his face flushed with pleasure.

  "Ah, you find something pretty to buy?" He reached out and took the parcels from her. "Come, we stop for drink on way back to ATLAS."

  "Oh, I don't think—"

  He grasped her elbow and propelled her down the street. "Nice end to good day, eh?"

  "Okay, but just one. I'm very tired."

  At the end of the street, they stopped at a low-roofed adobe building with no windows. Olsen opened the small black door and ushered her inside. The stale smell of poor housekeeping, years of cigarette smoke, and alcohol-permeated body odor hit her like a gut punch. A curl of nausea moved beneath her waistband and she briefly closed her eyes to the scene. Olsen held a rickety chrome and plastic chair for her, and she sank into it, wondering why she hadn't stood her ground, why she hadn't insisted on going back to the ship.

  Miss Mousie strikes again. Don't make waves, don't call attention to yourself with a scene. God, would she ever get a backbone?

  She gradually became accustomed to the dim light, and looked around. The place was really old and tired, but the clientele didn't seem to notice. The captain returned to the table carrying two small glasses of amber colored liquid. One whiff told Amanda she'd never be able to swallow it.

  "What is this?"

  "Whiskey." He took a large gulp, then peered at her over the rim of his glass. "Makes you frisky, don't you know?"

  She pushed it away. "I don't drink the stuff. May I have a glass of water?"

  He set his drink down and chuckled. "Don't drink the water. You will spend rest of voyage in the head."

  He rose and returned to the bar, where he carried on what was apparently a hilarious conversation with the bartender. Amanda seethed at her own inability to control the situation.

  Olsen set a small bottle of spring water in front of her, then dropped heavily into his chair. A second later, he drained his whiskey, gestured at the bartender for another, then turned back to her and leaned his elbows on the table.

  His accent had thickened with the alcohol. "Zo, tell me how you like my ship."

  She twiddled the bottle cap between her fingers. "It's very nice. I'm enjoying the fresh air and sunshine."

  "What you do at night?"

  Caught off guard, she quickly glanced up at him. His red-rimmed eyelids highlighted the bright blue irises staring at her with unmistakable innuendo. What he pro
bably considered a provocative smile was disgustingly lecherous.

  She looked away. "I read." And dream about fucking Nick.

  Olsen drained his whiskey, then rose and lurched one step sideways.

  A loud chuckled rolled through his chest. "Have to get my land-legs back."

  Amanda picked up the brown-paper parcels, and hurried ahead of him, through the door, into the brilliant sunlight and heavy warmth of the afternoon. Halfway down the block, Olsen took her elbow and steered her into a narrow, unpaved alley shadowed by buildings.

  "Ve take shortcut to ship."

  Instinctively, she knew what he was up to. Wresting her elbow from his grasp, she strode out ahead of him, determined to cover the isolated distance quickly. At the halfway point, he caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder. The packages slipped from her arm and tumbled to the dusty ground. His pudgy hands grasped her upper arms, and she looked up at his face flushed with whiskey and lust.

  Anger snapped in her chest. "What do you think you're doing?"

  His bulky body pushed against her, pressing her into the bricks of the building behind her.

  "Stop it!" She tried to slip from his grasp, but he tightened his grip. "Lars!"

  His deep chuckle rumbled against her breasts. "I knew you vould be wildcat—the quiet ones are the best."

  His paunch pressed against her torso as he buried his prickly beard in her neck, licking her skin and slobbering against her ear with his whiskey soaked tongue. A quick image of raw sex on a storage locker sent nausea roiling through her gut.

  She struggled to avoid his sloppy kisses. "No! Get away from me!"

  He released her shoulders and, for one instant, she felt a rush of relief. Then, to her horror, his hands slid quickly down her sides and grabbed her butt. With one effortless movement, he lifted her up and gyrated his hips forward until his groin was against hers. His hard cock pulsed through the fabric of his trousers, sending its message through her thin linen pants.