The Delight IC

Hello everybody and welcome aboard THE DELIGHT. we hope you enjoy your stay and find everything to your satisfaction.

If you would like to join in on the game, please check out the OOC. I am still accepting bios and am always happy to welcome new players.





Saskia Roma

Checking another item off her constantly growing To Do list, Saskia adjusted her Dior sunglasses and brushed a strand of strategically highlighted, honey blonde hair behind her ear. The salt air always wreaked havoc on her carefully coiffed locks, but Saskia was not about to admit defeat. She had a standing appointment every other day with the top stylist on board ship. An appointment that she'd had ever since she became Cruise Director for The Delight nearly ten years ago.

Glancing back down at her list, Saskia noticed a chip on her freshly manicured fingers (another standing appointment she'd kept all those years).

"Charlie," Saskia spoke into her headseat, "Find Anya and tell that bitch she's fired. Then get her fat ass off this ship before we leave port." Even twenty years after leaving Russia, her words were still heavily accented. "And Charlie, make sure you don't pay her."

Everyone knew who had any lick of sense knew that you didn't piss Saskia off. She knew rumors flew around among the staff that she had connections with the Mafia. If it meant that her subordinates feared her, so be it, she wasn't about to go around correcting rumors. Whether they were true or not would just have to remain a mystery.

Saskia returned to her list, a Cruise Directors task was never done. People always thought it was the Captain that ran the ship, and maybe captains did run other ships, but that was not the way of it aboard The Delight. Here, Saskia ran things with an iron fist and even the ship's captain was terrified of her.

The staff had all arrived the week before to get everything settled aboard ship. They had all moved in, greeted old friends and started to make new ones, and now there was nothing for them to do except assist the passengers as they arrived.

The passengers had begun arriving at ten that morning and the last one would not board until close to ten that night. While many other cruise ships had strict boarding times for their passengers, The Delight was more light on the rules and accommodating to her passengers' needs.

Speaking of accommodating needs, Saskia smiled to herself as she mentally calculated how many guests had already asked her about The Delight's "special" services. Nearly twenty in total so far, and many more to come, Saskia was certain. The Delight, while your typical cruise ship, was also well known among certain circles as the best "pleasure" cruise one could find. If you had the right connections, or simply knew who to ask, members of the staff - who had all been hand selected by Saskia herself - were more than willing to pleasure a guest in any way the guest desired. The arrangement had made Saskia a very wealthy woman. And who else could boast of running the world's largest brothel with the most diverse whores?

"Saskia, you're assistance is needed on the main level." Charlie's voice drifted into her ear. "We...uh...we have a problem."

"Damn it, Charlie, if you can't handle a pocket-size Greek, what good are you. Call Quentin and have him deal with her, I have business to take care of." Saskia snapped before shutting off her headset and moving to greet some of her more elite guests.






Kat Dylan

Scrub with towel. Check. Breathe on glass to check for smudges. Check. Scrub again. Check. Pray that I don't leave fingerprints. Double check. Kat assessed the stack of bar glasses that surrounded her. The counter top was littered with glasses of varying shapes and sizes. Hundreds upon hundreds and Kat was responsible for cleaning each and every one. And not just cleaning them so that they looked presentable, but cleaning them so that they passed the inspection of none other than the uber-bitch Saskia.

"What does it even matter? It's gonna be too dark for people to see the damn things anyway." Kat muttered as she caught sight of a finger print on a martini glass and quickly took the towel to it.

"Better hurry up with those things, I hear the Queen is on her way." Mason, Kat's fellow bartender, said as he plunked a crate of Denaka vodka onto the counter.

"Fuck, how soon?" Kat began wiping at the glasses in earnest.

"A few minutes. An hour. Who knows?" Mason replied with a shrug. "All I know is I don't want to be here if you leave so much as a smudge on those glasses."

"Gee, thanks for the support you pussy." Kat threw her towel, which Mason easily dodged.

Kat had been working on The Delight for five years, ever since she turned eighteen, and had been a bartender at the hottest club on board, Skinz, for two years. It was one of the best jobs on the ship, and Kat wasn't about to lose it because of a few smudges. She knew she wouldn't get tossed off the ship completely, though, if she lost her bartender gig. After all, she was one of Saskia's top earners and most requested members of staff. Saskia may be a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. She knew better than to get rid of Kat even if the young woman did piss her off every so often.

"Hey, dude, toss me one of those." Kat said as Mason stocked the bar with the vodka. She grabbed two shot glasses and plunked them down in front of the other bartender. "We're both gonna need a stiff drink if we're going to get through tonight."

Ribbons of sweat trailed down Quentin's abdominals as he dropped the free weights to the floor of his private exercise room. He panted lightly and gulped freely from his water bottle, eyeing the custom crossfit wristwatch that displayed just how intense his workout had been.

Not nearly as explosive as he'd wanted it to be, as the grimace that crossed his face would tell, but it would have to do as his earpiece buzzed, interrupting his pity party; he tapped the tiny contraption and stole across the room to open up a window.

"Talk to me quick and don't talk to me slick," he said easily, grateful for the wind kissing his sweat laced body.

"...What?"

"Nevermind that Charlie, I'll catch you up on it later; what's going on?"

"Cruella de Vil wants you to handle a particularly rowdy dalmation on the main level," Charlie said flatly.

"Now look whose talking," Quentin said as he stripped out of his pants, kicking his shoes aside.

"Are you getting naked while on the phone with me again?"

"What do you take me for Charlie, some kind of closet nudist with an exhibitionist fetish?"

"Umm, yeah."

"I'll look into it--this 'dalmation' of yours, not the fetish!" he finished quickly, and hung up immediately afterward.

Now completely nude, Quentin whipped the closet door open and retrieved his tuxedo, intricately tailored and sheathed within plastic. He bent and collected an immaculately shined pair of Stacy Adams and then laid the outfit on the bed, abandoning his workout watch as well.

He stole into the bathroom and emerged from it ten minutes later smelling heavily of a fresh shower, honey, and vanilla; the chosen fragrances were more for the ladies than they were for himself. Humming to himself, he clasped his wrist with a diamond studded Rolex and quickly donned his working attire, watching himself in the mirror as he fastened his tie.

He particularly enjoyed his work, as it was a much slower pace than his Army career had been; he had enjoyed that too of course, but after spending six months in a hospital in Germany after taking grenade shrapnel to the chest, he decided he wouldn't re-enlist. The scars remained, but so did his desire for helping and protecting others.

Now he had a new gig, as he was Head of Security aboard the Delight, and despite the high position and power he wielded, he sometimes found himself going head-to-head with Saskia; he was exceptionally endowed with the gift of gab, but sometimes even his silky smooth Will Smith presentation couldn't penetrate her icy Russian stoicism.

Oh well.

Calmly and professionally, Quentin kneeled within the confines of the closet and emerged with a handgun, checking the slide, chamber and magazine with great care. Only a select few people on board were armed, and even then, the rules of engagement were so strict that most of the time, Quentin forgot he was packing. Most cruise ships didn't allow for such strong security, but since the Delight held another infamous business within its hull, sometimes it was needed to scare off some of the rowdier clients. He snapped a fresh magazine into the weapon and stowed it in a holster in the small of his back.

He checked himself in the mirror once more as he placed his earpiece in its rightful location; satisfied with his appearance, he swept from the room and headed for the main level in search of the 'dalmation'.

~

"You've gotta be kidding me," Quentin muttered underneath his breath as he watched Anya go off on the staff members all around her.

Apparently, she had been fired and Saskia had failed to inform him properly; the only reason he would be considered important in that particular loop was for this reason specifically: sometimes, ex-employees weren't ok with the call, kind of like how a star player gets benched on a dreadful night. Now the Greek woman was tearing everything in sight apart with a wooden baseball bat she had somehow secured on deck.

The gaggle of staff members backed out of her way as she did her damage and Quentin could only shake his head as he approached the woman from behind.

"Anya! Oi!"

She whirled on the spot, her tear-stung, bloodshot eyes fixing him with the craziest stare.

"Can we talk about this?" he asked sweetly, offering his raised palms as a sign of resignation.

The bat sliced through the air where his head was seconds before he ducked, and he stood back up, shaking his head.

"I suppose not."

~

Quentin stormed back on ship whilst looking over his shoulder as the crazed Anya battled the police, the latter struggling to put handcuffs on her.

He was visibly pissed, not because he was bleeding from the lip due to the police mistakenly hitting him with the baton and not her, but because he had scuffed one of his Stacy Adams trying to wrestle the bat from Anya's talons.

"Saskia," Quentin barked into his wrist, where his transmitter was located; if he was going to wear a tuxedo, he might as well wear it like Bond did.

When he didn't get an answer, he assured the boss that the trash was taken out, whether or not she was listening.

Now that -that- particular mess was cleaned, he spat a mouthful of blood overboard and groaned as he re-discovered his scuffed shoe.

"This is a perfect fucking day already," he muttered.

Rebecca Stern stretched in her first class seat on the flight from Chicago, en route to the port where the ship on which she would spend her next week aboard, relaxing and enjoying a vacation that she had been given by some friends who had to back out last minute.

She slept most of the flight, having just gotten off of a twelve hour shift at the hospital, and woke up to the announcement that the captain would be beginning their decent. She returned her seat to its upright position and turned off her iPod, watching out the window as the plane moved slowly closer and closer until its wheels touched down onto the runway and taxied to the gate.

She stood and pulled her backpack from the overhead compartment before joining the line to leave the plane. She picked up her luggage at the baggage claim and hailed a taxi to the port. Her jaw dropped in awe when she saw the ship and all of its grandeur. After paying the driver, she made her way to the ship, where some staff put her bag on a cart to be delivered to her room later. She made her way onto the ship and handed another employee her ticket, receiving her on board account card and her cabin information, which happened to be have a large, private balcony.

She deposited her backpack in her cabin, and looked around her room, again in awe by the setting in which she would be living for the next week. She went into her bathroom and braided her hair, which was a mess from the morning spent traveling.

Wearing a denim skirt, a cream colored tank top with embellishments across the top, and wedge sandals, Becca went to explore the upper deck of the ship, and enjoy the beautiful weather. What she saw did not disappoint her expectations. Freshly finished wooden deck, perfectly clean, sparkling glass surrounding the perimeter of the deck, deck chairs perfectly arranged into rounded lines around the pool.

She walked to the edge and leaned on the wooden railing atop the glass half wall, gazing at the open ocean seemingly waiting for the Delight to set sale.

It was only 2:00 in the afternoon, so there were a few hours before the ship set sale, but Becca was certain she’d be able to keep herself busy until her vacation truly started.

Pearl Parsons


The limo pulled up dockside and the chauffeur got out and opened the passenger door to assist Mrs. Pearl Parsons in exiting the vehicle with her modesty intact. She wore a tweed coat that fell to her knees and completely covered the grey, knee-length skirt and white blouse that she wore under it. The coat was belted around her waist in a way that subtly drew attention to her narrow waist and the ample curves of her hips, buttocks and breasts without being vulgar in any way. Her copper colored hair was neatly styled and ruffled only slightly in the breeze. She was not young, but neither was she yet middle aged, looking to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

“Thank you, Harold.” She said to the driver. At least he understands how to treat a lady properly, even if my husband doesn’t.

She was followed from the limo by a slightly older looking man, who might have been considered handsome but would probably never be “distinguished”. He had just a touch of grey to his hair, but he didn’t wear it as well as some older men do. He came from around the vehicle and Pearl took his arm in spite of the fact that he had not really offered it to her. Pearl was attentive, but took in the ship as though its size and majesty were only to be expected, her face betraying nothing. Meanwhile her husband looked bored as they approached the gangway. “I hope they have a decent bar in this place.”

“They have quite a few bars on board, dear.” Pearl responded. “I’m sure at least one of them will suit your tastes.” Pearl’s years of experience kept the disgust and disappointment from her voice. Although she had vainly hoped for something different, she knew that Jack would spend nearly the entire cruise in some bar or another and only stumble back to their cabin in the wee hours of the morning, smelling of whiskey and cigar smoke and expecting to perform his husbandly duty while she lay on quietly on her back in the dark. Then he would immediately fall asleep, leaving her awake and totally unsatisfied.

Jack grunted noncommittally at her reply as they started up the gangway. Behind them, Harold saw to their luggage, handing it off to the purser. Pearl had one small case with her, containing her jewelry and just enough to get her by until the rest of their luggage was delivered to their cabin sometime that evening. They had barely even entered the cabin when Jack announced that he was off to locate the nearest bar. Pearl reminded him to be back by seven for dinner without much hope that it would actually happen, and then he departed, leaving her alone in a cabin that was enormous by shipboard standards. The cruise had been a bonus from her husband’s firm for Jack’s making full partner and it was an extravagance that they would not normally have been able to afford even on Jack's ample salary, at least not in a room as nice as this one, with a king-sized bed and a private balcony on one of the upper decks of the ship. Pearl sighed at the irony that it was all wasted on Jack who, despite being an excellent lawyer, was hardly a connoisseur of the finer things in life.

Pearl removed her coat and hung it in the closet, then slipped off the modest heels that she had been wearing and padded barefoot to the balcony. She sat down in one of the lounge chairs and closed her eyes, letting the sun and the light breeze lull her into a relaxed state. Her eyes drifted closed and she could sense the warmth of the sun on her skin and feel the light tickle of the breeze across the exposed skin of her legs, arms and face. It wasn’t long before she had left thoughts of Jack far behind. And it was only a little while later that her thoughts turned to other things… dirty, nasty things. Her hands glided over the silk of her blouse, following the contours of her ample breasts and then over her hips. She rotated slightly to reach the zipper of the skirt and slide it downward, releasing it to move across her legs and over her feet and finally to the deck beside the lounge.

Purposefully she began undoing each button of her blouse in turn, exposing more and more skin to the sun and wind. Before long the blouse joined the skirt on the deck and then Pearl’s hands really got down to business. One hand slipped beneath the lacy fabric of her bra, caressing one of her full, ripe breasts as the other traveled south across her trim stomach and slid around the matching lace panties and into her already hot and wet pussy. Pearl couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as she did so, but the volume of it shocked her and caused her to stop and open her eyes to verify that no one would be able to see her there. Confident that the balcony really was private, she closed her eyes and continued.

Pearl’s mind’s eye was filled with half-delirious visions of debauchery. Images of men and women in endless combinations writhed for her pleasure alone, and it was bare minutes before she was moaning in delight, and then she came in a hot, sticky rush of fluids that drenched her hand, her panties and the lounge chair. She slumped against the chair, her last conscious thought before she drifted off into a light doze was, So far this ship seems well named.

Logan had been with The Delight for a year now and had found lots of little ways to make himself useful. At the moment, that involved being at The Rivers Club assisting the stage crew get setup for the musicians tonight. He had learned in short order how much of a taskmaster (or mistress as the case may be) the ship's director was. So he found ways to make himself seem more productive and important than he really was. It was his only defense beyond his placid, gregarious demeanor. He was an easy man to like and a hard one to hate. But other employees had been likable too, and most of them had since been fired. So here he was, trying to make himself just a little bit less disposable for now.

He plugged in a bass guitar and began noodling, checking the amp cabinets and monitors. "Jerry, the lows are kind of muddy. Could you EQ that up for me?" He played a legato 16th note melody climbing further and further up the neck, as much for his own amusement as the sound check. "There we go, perfect."

Logan himself was providing guitar and vocals tonight for a classic rock set with some of the other musicians on board. They were only doing a few covers, but Logan had talked them into putting one of Warren Zevon's Poor Poor Pitiful Me on the list. It was one of his favorites and he always like to play at least one favorite the first night out with a new batch of guests. He certainly looked the part for the song too. He was handsome, no older than 30, and had a wild aspect to him. His short-trimmed beard and mass of shaggy brown curls that hung down to his shoulders gave him a rugged look, and his deep tan made it look as if he had just stepped out of the desert yesterday. The cowboy boots and hat added to the look, though the tattoos of obvious Indian design on his biceps seemed almost like something out of a movie.

He looked around the restaurant a moment. The Rivers Club was so named because of the unusual design. Located at the ship's stern a few levels, the club had glass walls glass walls in the back to let the light in for the indoor gardens and bulbs emulating sunlight in all the light fixtures to take over when the sun went down. On the wall opposite the musicians' stage was an artificial waterfall. The small pool it emptied into had several "rivers" branching out that were in troughs at the top of the partitions that separated the VIP diners from everyone else. These partitions ended in small waterfalls that formed rivers that criss-crossed the restaurant. Wooden bridges periodically crossed them and the whole thing was decorated with real river rocks and live plants. Some of the ponds, including the big one at the VIP section were also stocked with live fish. Whenever there wasn't a band playing, speakers hidden throughout the room played a mix of nature soundtracks with world music. Apparently, this was the interior designer's pet idea, as he was a believer that music helped plants grow.

As the group finished the sound check and Logan packed up his guitar and bass into gig bags, the speakers came on just in time for the first of the guests to arrive. Logan let his eyes roam a bit. He was pleased to see a few pretty girls among the bunch, and probably single. No strings attached, just the way he preferred it.

On his way back to his room, Logan made note of some of the guests and also some of his coworkers. He crossed Quentin coming down the hall, who seemed cross about something. Logan gave one of his polite smiles and a slow nod to the chief of security when they made eye contact. He made it a point to always be cooperative and friendly with the security staff. Another survival mechanism to ensure no one had any reason to bring up his name around Saskia.

He reached his room and picked up an acoustic guitar. He wasn't due on stage for another 5 hours, but he still wanted to get some practice in before the show anyway. Naturally, he had to noodle and write a few new tabs and lyrics while he was at it. He sang a little to himself as well, practicing the songs for tonight. He had a deep, smoky voice that evoked images of long, weary days on the road, and hot, sleepless nights in the bedroom. It was obvious that he was meant to be on stage.

'I'm here. I'm actually doing this. This is gonna happen,' Anthony thought to himself as he sat on the edge of his bed in his room on The Delight. A nervous tension washed over him as he waited for the ship to actually depart and he couldn't keep still. He would go from bobbing his leg violently to standing and pacing around the room. 'We don't leave soon, I'm gonna back out. I just know it.'

His laptop sat on the mattress, open and displaying a swirling screensaver while music gently played. He wasn't sure just how thick the walls were and he didn't want to chance annoying his neighbors before they'd even set sail. Anthony ran his fingers against the mousepad and his work came to life. A blinking cursor in the middle of a sentence left almost forgotten. He sat on the bed and picked up where he left off.

...TANYA awakens, horrified. A MONSTER hangs drops down from the ceiling, venom bubbling at the tips of its pincers...

Anthony stops typing and starts biting his nails. "I don't know if this is gonna work," he said aloud. He drummed his fingers against the keys. Violently pounded his backspace key and started fresh.

SOMETHING POUNDS the door and it startles TANYA. She shrieks and cowers, backing away from whatever's on the other side of that door. The door knob shakes violently. Tanya's in the corner, crying. Something SCRATCHES the door and the walls all around her.

TANYA​

Stop it!​

The scratching continues, almost becomes louder. Tanya's shaking uncontrollably, crying for help to an empty room.

TANYA​

Please leave me alone!​

The scratching stops almost as suddenly as it had started. Tanya rises to her feet, scans the room. There's a CLICK, and she places the sound. The doorknob has been turned. She races across the room to brace herself against the door before it can open ...

...There was a knock on Anthony's door, and the timing of it caused him to jump away from his computer. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He couldn't remember a time he had been so frightened ... or so incredibly thirsty. Anthony licked his lips to try to clear up his cottonmouth.

"Fuck," he said.

The reality of the situation was coming into focus once again. Here he was on The Delight, with every intention of either getting laid nonstop, or at least finding a girlfriend, and how was he spending his time? Alone in his room, writing. It was no wonder he hadn't been able to keep a steady relationship. Anthony once again swiped his finger across the mousepad and saved the screenplay. He closed the laptop, took his room key and headed for the bar.

'Maybe if I start drinking now,' he thought, 'I'll be a little more inclined to loosen up around the ladies.'

He checked to make sure his door was locked several times, a slight OCD habit he had picked up since his apartment had been broken into last year, and set off in search of any alcohol he could find.

Darius

Momentarily lost in a daydream, Darius stared blankly out of the Taxi window as it rolled to a halt in the port check-in zone. It took a moment for his eyes to focus and absorb what he was actually looking at. One fuck-off big boat. “Shit, Americans do know how to pull off excess like no one else” he muttered to himself with a sly smile.

Stepping out onto the dock, the salty tang of the ocean invaded his senses as he strode confidently towards the gangway. With each step he could feel the stresses of his previous trial slipping away; it had been successful of course but murder one trials were always particularly draining.

After being shown to his room by a startlingly attractive young lady, come to think of it all he had seen since he had bordered were stunningly desirable people, Darius shrugged out of his charcoal Armani jacket, removed his platinum cufflinks and stepped out onto the small yet luxuriously appointed balcony.

The kiss of sunlight combined with the mouth-watering array of “talent” he had just seen combined like a familiar cocktail to give Darius a familiar feeling in his Ck briefs. When his step-mother had presented him with the ticket, he had immediately assumed it was for one of those tacky cruise ships with screaming kids and obese retirees. However, after digging a little deeper, particularly on some of the less “mainstream” forums he frequented, Darius had discovered there was more to the “Delight” than first met the eye. Ever since, his head had been swimming with thoughts of his step-mom; had she known about the true intentions of the ship or was it a random fluke? Either way Darius fully intended to take advantage of this adults playground.

After fully exploring the cabin, taking note of the unusually large shower and spa bath, as well as the plush furniture, Darius decided it was time to explore. He could not be bothered to change out of his charcoal suite pants or his white Herringbone shirt; he did however quickly spray a dash of ArmaniMania cologne on his neck before exiting his room…

Saskia Roma

The ship had officially departed from port. Saskia mentally ran through her post-departure checklist and had to smile at how smoothly, at least by cruise ship standards, things had gone. Only three firings before leaving port, two stowaways, and one late arrival. She smirked as she remembered Quentin bitching in her ear about having to escort Anya off the ship, and something about his shoes, but Saskia had tuned him out by that point. This was going to be one of the best sailings that The Desire had ever had, Saskia was determined.

Already things were shaping up to make her quite a bit of money over the next three weeks that they would be sailing. Barely an hour after departure and she already had guests lining up to bed her staff.

Over the years, Saskia had created a finely honed system for her business. Guests interested in the services that Saskia's employees had to offer would send a message through one of the ship's porters (some of whom were part of Saskia's pleasure staff and some who had only heard the rumors) that they would like to arrange a private excursion and would like Saskia to handle it personally. Once a request was sent in, Saskia would have a housekeeper (who was on her pleasure staff) leave a card that listed all the "adventures" available for private excursions. Guests would check off what adventures they were interested in and hang it on their door for the housekeeper to collect. When Saskia had the card, she would then match each guests' chosen adventures and match them up with a staff member who was skilled in those areas. In the comment section of the card, the guest would dictate where they would like the staff member to meet them for the "private excursion."

Sometimes, though, guests would request specific staff members. If an employee sparked a guest's interest, the guest could then ask specifically for that staff member. Saskia wasn't about to deny her guests what they wanted, and so she often went along with these types of requests.

Her only rule, however, was that guests never proposition her employees on their own. Everything had to pass by Saskia first. Any guest or employee found breaking this rule was blacklisted from stepping foot on The Delight ever again.

Already, Saskia had a small pile of cards sitting on her desk. She sat down, her calfskin brown skirt riding up her long legs and showing off her stockings and garter.

Time to get to work, she thought as she began to peruse the stack.




Kat Dylan

It was eleven o'clock at night, on the first night of the three week voyage, and Skinz was hopping. Dressed in a black leather mini-skirt with metal studs up the side seams, a dark red halter top with a plunging neckline and a zipper up the front, knee-high black boots, and her favorite hot pink wig, Kat was struggling to keep up with the demands of the thirsty patrons. Mason, of course, was not doing much to help as he stood off to one corner of the bar flirting with everything that had tits.

"Hey babe," a deep, throaty voice broke over the sound of the pulsing music, "a round of shots for me and my buddies. And feel free to join us." The man was probably in his mid-thirties, a bit old for the club's usual crowd, and his hairline was receding so quickly Kat thought it was probably trying to run away from his face.

Kat was saved from having to reject the man by Mason.

"Guess what time it is," Mason leaned in close, his breath heavy with vodka.

"Oh fuck," Kat groaned. "Already? We just fuckin' opened."

Mason only grinned in response. The music swiftly changed from a pulsing techno beat to Def Leopard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Kat flipped him off before jumping up onto the bar.

Her hips moved with the music as she began to caress her body slowly, making sure to make eye contact with each person looking at her. She began to unzip her top, slowly, teasingly, until the top of her black lace bra showed. The crowd watching her began to yell, chanting for her to take it off. With a naughty smile, Kat turned around and began to shake her ass, her short skirt riding up ever so slightly. She turned back to face the audience and started to unzip the rest of her top when Mason jumped up on the bar and began to take his shirt off. The girl's, and some of the guys, in the club went wild as Mason's six pack came into view.

Grateful that he had taken her spot on the bar, Kat jumped back down and resumed taking drink orders as Mason did his own little strip tease.

Let him have the fuckin' limelight, Kat thought, I sure as hell don't want it. As she poured drink after drink, Kat couldn't wait for the next two hours to pass and her shift at the club to be over. All she could think about was crawling into bed and falling into a deep sleep.

But now was not the time to think about that. Seeing someone standing at the bar, waiting, Kat walked over and leaned against the bar seductively, pushing her cleavage to its full advantage.

"Hi cutie, what can I get for you?" She asked.

On the first night out, Skinz almost always had the biggest crowd. The provocative name and the pounding music proved too much for most of the hedonistic passengers to resist. The Rivers Club had its own respectable crowd however. The patrons were dressed a little nicer than most of the others enjoying drinks and music tonight, which made Logan that much more under-dressed in comparison. His jeans had seen better days as the small rips in the legs and on the one knee were obviously natural wear and tear, rather than the kind a designer strategically placed to give the wearer a pretension toward ruggedness. The sleeves on his Alice in Chains T-shirt had gotten so bad that he finally just cut them off months ago. Naturally his hat, medicine pouch, and necklace were not optional.

Pete was on drums, Clive on bass, Roland on the keyboards, and the wild card player Jason was taking up a fiddle just for this song. Logan himself was at the microphone with a sunburst finish Les Paul slung across his front.

I lay my head on the railroad tracks
And wait for the Double-E
The railroad don't run no more
Poor, poor pitiful me

Logan sang with a big, toothy grin on his face, ultimately turning into an enthusiastic smile as he grooved to the syncopated guitar riff and the other musicians swayed to their respective melodies.

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me

Well I met a girl in West Hollywood
I ain't namin' names
But she really worked me over good
She was just like Jesse James

Logan stomped one foot in time to the beat and soon started bobbing his head as well. If not for the eye contact he made with the patrons, you could be forgiven for thinking that there was no crowd and he was only amusing himself.

She really worked me over good
She was a credit to her gender
She put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a Waring blender

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me

When the solo came up, Logan spun on his heels away from the microphone and started moving around the stage, interacting with the other musicians, in particular him and James seeming to duel for the audience's attention. Toward the end, Logan's hat fell off his head and got caught on the headstock of his guitar. It was purely accidental, but he quickly angled the neck up and winked at the audience to make it seem as if he intended to do that all along before returning to the microphone.

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe-ho is me

Going into the bridge, Logan quickly recovered his hat and crooned out the lyrics. The punchline of the little lyrical anecdote he delivered in a deadpan speaking voice and looking off to the side as if hiding an embarrassing secret, but then snapping back to his previous jolly, beaming demeanor. He could hear a chunk of the audience laughing even over the monitor.

I met a girl at the rainbow Bar
She asked me if I'd beat her
Then she took me back to the Hyatt House

... I don't wanna talk about it
Hey!

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Whoo!

At this point the song started winding down and the band we're all high energy for a big finish.

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Ha! Never mind!

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Whoohoo! Yeah!

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me

Logan held out the last note as the band gave him a big finish and he improvised a blues solo over it. The last chord was hit and the room was quiet for only a moment before the crowd erupted in applause.

The band didn't say anything to the crowd. Jason just swapped out his fiddle for a Stratocaster and the band immediately went into a blues rock song of Logan's, which he called Desperados y Muchachos. The straight-eighths beat on the bass drum gave the song a groovy, rolling feel that had several patrons chair dancing or headknocking. Logan himself began rocking his upper body to the back beat. He looked out over the crowd, especially the ladies with his eyes half-lidded and his lips pouted slightly. He gave one blond close to the stage a wink, causing her and her friends to lapse into giddy laughter and teasing one another, debating which of them he was looking at.

Logan suspected Saskia might eventually want to have a word with him about that. He wasn't on the roster for The Delight's "unique" entertainment, but on the other hand he could get a crowd of women excited, which made them more likely to fill out that card. It was entirely possible she already knew damn well what he was doing and considered it a net gain. Either way, it seemed to be working out so far.

An hour later and the band were set for a break. The speakers resumed playing world music over the nature sounds and the din of the patrons soon returned to an expected volume. The band all went straight to the bar. "Evening, sweetheart," Logan said to the female bartender. "Get me my usual?"

She smiled at him, accustomed to his playful flirting and fished out a bottle of IBC root beer from under the bar. She popped off the cap and slid it to him. Logan replied with a smile and a tip of his hat. Many were surprised to learn that Logan never drank or smoked. Indeed, other than the occassional hallucinogens in exotic ports of call, he had no major vices or substance issues. Anything he felt would endanger his vocal chords he avoided. He looked like a hard-living rock star, but lived more like a tribal shaman.

Becca walked around the upper decks of the Delight, watching as more and more people came aboard. She sat down on a deck chair and pulled off her tank top, revealing her white bikini top, relaxing and pulling her e-reader out of her purse, slipping between reading and dozing for a good share of the afternoon.

When she felt herself getting too much sun, she donned her tank top again and returned to her cabin and took a shower. Her dinner seating was in the Rivers Club VIP area and she didn’t want to rush to get ready. She wondered just how much this vacation had cost her friends, and wondered just exactly what her VIP dinner seating entailed.

After her shower, Becca slipped into the plush white robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door before stepping back out onto her balcony, watching as she ship pushed away from the dock, beginning its voyage. The light sea spray hitting her hair, giving her usually straight hair gentle waves.

She went back inside and changed into strapless black dress that graced her curves. She stepped into a pair of tall black glittery pumps. She did her makeup, a smoky eye and soft pink lips. She had gotten some color while on deck earlier so she didn’t need any bronzer or blush. She reminded herself to ask about activities for while they were in port the next day on the first of many islands they would be stopping at. Her friends had mentioned being signed up for something before they had to cancel, and that if she wanted to, she should use their spots.

Becca made her way to the Rivers Club and she was again astounded at the beauty. She showed her ship card to the hostess, who led her to a table that was set for eight, and as she sat down, she hoped she wouldn’t be dining alone.

While looking at the night’s menu, she glanced up to see live music being performed across the room, another pleasant surprise.

Logan sipped his root beer and looked over the VIP section in front of him. He looked particularly out of place among them, but the way he held himself made it clear he didn't care. He noticed one table with a young lady in a black dress sitting all by herself. His curiosity perked up. He hadn't expected a girl like that to be alone. He had to know...

He strolled over to her table with the bottle still in his hand. "Evening," he said to get her attention. When she looked at him he smiled slowly and tipped his hat. "You saving a seat for anyone?"

Becca had just taken a sip of her cucumber martini when she heard a male voice next to her. She looked up and smiled softly, surprised to see the man who was singing just a few moments ago was standing next to her chair.

"No, I'm travelling alone," she said, gesturing to the chair next to her. "Friends of mine had booked this trip but couldn't come, so they offered it to me last minute. I'm not sure if anyone else is assigned to this table, but there's at least one open seat," she explained.

"My name's Becca," she said, looking at him as he sat down.

Logan pulled out a chair beside Becca and eased himself down into it. He leaned back into the seat and stretched his legs out under the table before cross them at the ankle. He looked more comfortable the more he slouched into the chair until he had reached a point that looked like he had been lounging there for some time without actually looking awkward. She gave her name and he smiled before giving his own. "Logan."

He took a sip of his root beer, seemingly in no particular hurry. "I was curious what a pretty young lady like yourself was doing eating alone. Good times are much better with good company." He spoke slowly and evenly, his voice rolling gently out of his chest. His movements were similarly subdued and smooth. "All of your friends had to back out? That's a shame."

Becca was struck by how comfortable Logan looked, his actions and his words very smooth and fluid. She crossed her legs and straightened her dress over her thighs.

"It was only my old roommate and her fiance, but I feel bad that I get to enjoy a vacation they had planned for so long, and wouldn't let me pay them for any of it," she explained, tucking her wavy hair behind her ear.

Logan smiled at that. "Maybe it's a carry over from my starving artist period, but when you get a gift like this, you don't ask questions." His eyes were on hers, but his head was still facing forward and completely aligned with the rest of his body. He didn't move any muscle he didn't have to.

"You ever been on a cruise before? Any big plans for what to do while you're here?" He rather hoped that any plans she had would soon involve him. If not, he could think of worse ways to spend an evening than chatting with a beautiful woman so it was still a good time as far as he was concerned.

Becca smiled softly in return, her eyes meeting his. There was something intriguing about Logan, his demeanor not like that of anyone she’d met before. She relaxed in her seat, letting her guard down some, leaning against the back of her chair.

“I’ve never been on a cruise before,” she said, answering his question. “My friend who originally booked the trip said they were signed up for some sort of ropes course and some sort of on shore adventure, so I’m considering those, but other than that I’m not sure what I’ll be doing,” she explained, completely unaware of what those shore excursions really meant.

“So, Logan, how long have you been working on the Delight?” she asked with genuine interest.

At her mention of rope courses and shore excursions he put a hand to his mouth to conceal the smile creeping up his lips under the pretense of scratching at his beard. He would have hinted to her that those things didn't mean the same thing aboard The Delight, but Saskia kept her crew on a short leash if that wasn't an unfortunate choice of words. The cruise's "activities" were run like Fight Club and staff were heavily discouraged from discussing it with anyone not already in the loop.

After taking a second to straighten his expression out, Logan answered her question. "About a year. I've pretty much lived on the ship since joining the crew." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beaten up digital wristwatch, the band to which had fallen off years ago and he just never bothered to replace it. "I have to be back on stage in about 10 minutes, but..."

He pocketed the watch again and finished off his root beer before setting the bottle down on the table and standing up. "The last set is a half-hour. When I'm done, would you like to take a walk with me across the deck?"

Becca took a sip of her drink and set the glass on the table, tracing a drop of condensation down the thin stem of the glass. She was usually pretty good at reading people, and generally had a good sense of sometimes character after just a short time. That wasn't the case with Logan, and she wasn't sure why.

She observed him as he pulled out the face of a watch before finishing his root beer and standing up, inviting het for a walk when he finished his next set.

Becca hadn't noticed how tall he was earlier. She nodded, looking up at him. "I'd like that," she answered, smiling warmly at him.

Logan smiled, tipped his hat, and went back to the stage to warm up. The other musicians joined him shortly and they opened their set with a second cover, this one of Gimme Some Lovin' by The Spencer Davis Group. Clive started playing that immediately recognizable bass line and Jason and Roland harmonized their guitar and keyboard to the hook while Logan provided vocals.

Well my temperature is rising
Got my feet on the floor
Crazy people rocking 'cause they want to go more.
Let me in baby I don't know what you got,
But you better take it easy,
This place is hot.

The song got a few cheers as a number of fans recognized it. It got them primed for the rest of the set. Several original songs, mostly of Logan's creation, a blues jam, and finishing the set off with a cover of Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. Jason picked up a saxophone for this song and Logan got his guitar back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are so happy to be here tonight," Logan said over the music. A few smiling faces in the crowd showed they reocgnized this song. "It is a joy to see so many lovely people aboard The Delight and the nights we have to look forward to with you. This goes out to everyone, telling you to find that special someone, because everybody needs somebody. You... me... us... everybody. Everybody!"

Everybody needs somebody
Everybody needs somebody to love (someone to love)
Sweetheart to miss (sweetheart to miss)
Sugar to kiss (sugar to kiss)
I need you you you
I need you you you

Clive provided the backing vocals and helped Logan get the crowd into a call-and-response. By the time the song was over, the band got a standing O. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I am Logan Masters, Jason O'Malley on the saxophone, Clive Fleischer on the bass, Roland Anderson on the keys, and Pete Preston on drums! Good night everyone!"

The sound crew cut the microphones and as soon as Logan was sure it was clear, he turned to Jason. "Would you mind doing me a huge favor and taking care of my guitar for me? I promised a young lady a moonlit walk on deck." Jason smiled and nodded, all too familiar with Logan's way with women.

"I owe you a beer," Logan promised as he hopped off the stage and made his way back to Becca's table. "Did you enjoy the show? Best group of musicians I've ever worked with."

Becca watched Logan walk back to the stage, a few other passengers joined her at the table and she enjoyed her meal, making occasional small talk with the people sitting around her, mainly trying to listen to the music coming from Logan and the rest of the band, she was pleasantly surprised by how great they sounded.

The waiter had just cleared her plate as the set ended. She expected it to take a while for Logan to put his guitar away and help take down the rest of their equipment. She glanced towards the stage and didn't see Logan. She jumped slightly when he asked if she enjoyed the show, paying compliment to the rest of the musicians.

She nodded, "you guys were great," she said smiling at him. "do you play every night?" She asked as she stood up from the table.

"Almost every night. We're on five nights a week, though not always in here. The ship has several venues." He offered Becca his arm with a smile. "Shall we?" The other patrons at the table were surprised by his entrance, moreso by the fact that he didn't even seem to care whether or not they accepted his presence. The air of confidence he projected however made it seem as if the VIP section was his domain and they were the ones over-dressed for the occasion. He had told Becca earlier that he had been living on board for a year and it seemed that was enough time for him to declare the ship a home.

Becca smiled and slid her arm through his; making a mental not that she would need to explore the other venues Logan played in during her time on board the Desire. She nodded politely at the others sitting at the table and walked with Logan through the VIP area. He was confident and comfortable without being cocky, an attitude that was a refreshing change after spending the last four years surrounded by overly cocky frat boys, and starting recently, doctors who had no time to treat nurses with any respect whatsoever.

She pushed her hair back, over her shoulder as she let Logan lead the way, taking in the beauty of the ship, illuminated brightly against the dark night sky. The air was warm, but the humidity from earlier was gone, resulting in a warm, crisp breeze against her skin as they walked.

There were still a few guests out and about on the deck even at this later hour, though most of them were either at the bars and clubs or already asleep. A few were perhaps already enjoying the ship's unique entertainment. For the most part though the only sounds were the wind, the hum of the ship's props and the lapping of the waves. The skies were clear and a full moon was out. Logan stopped walking a moment to clutch the medicine pouch and medallion to his chest. He closed his eyes and silently gave his thanks for the clear weather, hoping that it would last. After that momentary stop however, he resumed the walk with a smile to Becca.

Logan's spiritual side was something that others found surprising. More so because he never talked about it unless asked directly and even then he only gave scant details. Much like his past at that. Though he didn't lack for confidence, he just didn't seem to like to talk about himself that much.

Becca was very much enjoying the walk with Logan. They chatted a bit, but mostly it was quiet between the two of them, the sound of the waves and the wind a very calming and refreshing sound after spending most of her life in a bit city.

She stopped when Logan paused and touched his medallion to his chest, again intriguing her. "Do you mind me asking what your medallion represents?" she asked him as they resumed their leisurely walk across the deck. She hoped he wouldn't be offended by her curiosity.

Logan glanced over at Becca before holding he medallion up so she could see it better in the light. It was an American Indian design that looked like some sort of dog or wolf. "I'm an animist. This is my totem, Coyote. He is my guide and protector." He cast a look down at his arm. The same design on his medallion was tattooed on his bicep. "It's something I picked up about, oh... six years ago. Give or take." That time in Logan's life passed mostly as a blur. He only kept track of time during those years by the seasons and holidays. He wasn't even certain what year it was when he joined The Delight's staff until he was given a day planner to keep track of his shows and the ship's itinerary. That he had already hit 26 years old by that time came as a small surprise to him. He had just turned 27 last month.

Logan looked up at the clear sky, still holding his medallion. "On nights like this, I offer him my thanks. We live in a very fickle world, so I like to express my gratitude when it deigns to show us peace. There's great beauty in even the most violent storm, but it's harder to appreciate when you're at sea and trying to keep your meal down." He let the medallion fall back to his chest and on a whim took off his hat and put it on Becca's head. As his hand fell, it paused to softly caress her cheek with his knuckles. He looked into her eyes for a moment before continuing their stroll across the deck.