"The Long Cruise"

[PennySaver]

"The Long Cruise"

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The River Cruise Boat,
Independence

Penny Howard had been overjoyed to say the least to find out that she had been chosen to captain the maiden voyage of the River Cruise Boat Independence. Despite the designation of the craft as being for river cruises, the Independence's first voyage would actually be of the Intercoastal Waterway, beginning its 8 day voyage in Charleston, South Carolina and ending it in Amelia Island, Florida after making daily -- or nightly, actually -- stops in Beaufort and Hilton Head Island, South Carolina and Savannah, Jekyll Island, and St. Simons Island, Georgia.

Little could Penny have known when they left port that first day that no other port calls would be made as scheduled. Rumors of a new plague in Europe making its way to the United States were confirmed even as her First Mate was verifying a dock assignment in Beaufort, with the tying up at the pier denied, first by Beaufort Port Authorities, then by Penny's bosses back in Guilford, Connecticut.

The Independence spent the first night anchored in the waters between Parris and Hilton Head Islands, and as the darkness fell all about them, the world ashore fell into total mayhem. Listening to the radio and viewing live news reports via social media and local news stations, Penny, her crew, and her guests -- 100 men, women, and children from all over the US and even from abroad -- watched as cities were shuttered and hospitals were overrun by people infected with the most deadly virus ever known.

By midnight, the Independence was suffering from some of the same mayhem affecting the mainland. Many people wanted off the boat, desperate to get home to their families. Some were threatening to jump overboard and swim for shore. Penny assembled the guests and crew -- which for the boat's maiden voyage was large at 30 -- in the main dining room to explain the situation and options; the crew had spread the tables out for social distancing -- a lesson from the COVID pandemic -- and the guests were asked to sit only with those with whom they'd boarded.

When she was done, more than two thirds of the passengers and a third of the crew had declared their desire to leave. Penny tried to talk them out of it. "You are safe here. There is no sign that anyone aboard is sick, but out there ... well, what we are hearing is that this sickness is everywhere and spreading quickly."

But try as she might, 80 of the 130 on board wanted to leave. She told them, "I would like all the passengers to return directly to their staterooms. Crew, both those remaining and departing, please remain behind. The officers and I will begin immediately on a plan to return those of you who wish to leave to shore. Please, for safety's sake, remain in your room's overnight. If you need anything, please use your room's phone to contact the Concierge's desk."

And with that, the passengers made their way back to their staterooms, one group at a time to utilize social distancing. Once only the crew remained, Penny worked with them on ideas of how to get the soon-to-depart back to shore. There was no way of ensuring that if they contracted a boat to come out, that someone on it might not be infected.

In the end, Penny made contact with a Coast Guard Officer whose vessel was just returning from a search and rescue mission off the coast of Georgia. He was now a good friend of Penny's and had once been her lover, and it didn't take much talking on her part for him to agree to come alongside and collect the 80 who wished to split.

The next morning just before dawn, the cutter began sliding up next to the Independence. None of the Coasties came aboard the cruise ship, and -- again using social distancing and now masks -- the singles, couples, and families leaving did so one group as a time.

Before the boats separated, Penny's friend and former lover asked her via their cell phones, "What's your plan? You can't stay out here forever, and this ... this plague looks like it could last a good long time."

"My most immediate concern is food," Penny answered him. "We overstocked the pantries, fridges, and freezers, just to ensure that our maiden voyage had no shortcomings when it came to food and drink. The owners wanted the voyage spectacular, obviously. Still, much of the fresh and perishable foods we were expecting to use over the 8 days were to be loaded at each port call."

"I've been ordered into port," he informed her, adding, "We can transfer what we didn't use during out 7 days out to you. No one onboard here is sick. We'd know by now. It should be safe."

They strung the necessary lines, and two hours later the two crews had winched more than 1,500 pounds of food, water, and other supplies to the cruise boat. They disconnected the lines, and the cutter fired up its motors to head back to its home port. Penny had a feeling this would be the last time she saw her old and dear friend.

On the bridge, she got onto the 1MC and made an announcement: "We can't know what's going to happen on shore in the hours and days to come, and we can't know what might happen out here on the water either. The weather report is calling for light winds and calm seas for the next couple of days, so ... we are heading to sea, just far enough to be out of sight of land and any potential ... dangers that might come our way.

"Dinner will be served at its regular time," she continued. "We are short two of our cooks and, well, a little of everyone in every area field aboard the Independence. If anyone would like to help us put dinner together, you are invited to meet with our Executive Chef -- who thankfully did remain onboard -- and I'm sure that she can find something to keep you happily occupied."

She returned the microphone to its cradle and turned, finding the bridge crew looking to her for direction. She gave them a short speech of inspiration, then said, "Helm, take us out of the bay, then ... set your course ... one, three, zero. Set your speed to full."

The crew members repeated back their orders, and the boat made a slow turn to the southeast as its speed increased. Soon, the land aft of them to the north and west began to disappear.

 

[KyleReevis]

Peter Douglas hadn't been alone when he boarded the Independence. Now, though, he very much was on his own. He'd begun the eight day cruise with a woman at his side. She'd boarded the Coast Guard cutter to return to shore without hesitation.

It wasn't a huge loss for him romantically. Connie had been part of his cover, his significant other for eight days only. She'd been with him on the romantic cruise to make him appear legit. Yeah, sure, he'd planned on getting sucked and fucked during the cruise. But he'd paid for her company. Sex was a gimme, one that was now gone.

Romance hadn't been his reason for being here. The four cases of pistols, assault rifles, shotguns, and associated ammunition that were now sitting in the hold of the boat were. A contact within the cruise line had made it possible for the weapons and ammo to be inconspicuously loaded three days ago.

The plan had been simple smuggling operation. After reaching Amelia Island, Peter would have the shipment transferred to shore and then to a waiting fishing boat. Then it was off to Florida for another transfer. Then to Cuba for the same. Finally, the weapons would end up in the hands of a left wing, antigovernment militia in Venezuela.

It might have seemed like a lot of loading and unloading. But Peter had learned that these short hops attracted less attention from the ATF. This would have been the fourth shipment to the militia.

Peter wasn't overly political. And he wasn't sure how he felt about the situation in Venezuela. That didn't matter, though. This was business. This shipment alone would net him a profit of just shy of $40,000. Plus, he got to spend 8 days motoring about the Inland Waterway, having sex each night.

At least, that had been the plan. He could have disembarked with his female guest. But how would he have explained the crates to the Coast Guard? He couldn't leave them behind obviously.

No, it was better to wait and watch. He was betting that they'd be back in port in a few days once all this fear mongering ended.

He was so very wrong.

 

[PennySaver]

Mariam Abebe was suffering many of the same feelings the others aboard the Independence were, but the reasons behind her fear, despair, depression, etc., went far beyond a simple global pandemic. She had only arrived in the United States just two weeks earlier as what in the 20th century had often been called a mail order bride. Her husband of only 3 days was Walter Wiggins, a well-to-do businessman who had used his political and financial connections to get around a whole slew of regulations, restrictions, and outright laws against importing young women from Africa and Asia for the purposes of sexual service.

Oh, Mariam wasn't a sex trafficked woman, per se. She'd turned 18 the day of her flight from Africa to the US, and she did have a passport, visa, and other documentation necessary for the trip. But the facts of the matter were simple: her family had been paid to send her to Wiggins; she'd been certified by a doctor before leaving Africa as being both a virgin and free of disease; she'd been wed to Wiggins in a simple, quiet ceremony at his own house by an unnamed preacher, also paid well for his services; and tonight Mariam was expected to part her legs for her new husband and surrender her virtue.

Wiggins, of course, already knew what his young wife looked like naked. Her picture had been sent to him months earlier -- along with those of many other girls -- to allow him to pick the most beautiful wife available. Ironically, though, Wiggins had chosen Mariam not only because she had what he had called the greatest tits on God's green Earth but because she'd looked so obviously unhappy with the idea of being sold off to some distant and unknown man for his sexual pleasure and domestic servitude. He was a man who liked to possess, to control, to manipulate, and -- when it suited him -- to ruin. He had every intention of doing all to this young, beautiful African girl, simply because he could and knew that it would hurt her emotionally. He was, in a word, an asshole.

And despite the end of the world seeming to have arrived, Wiggins had every intention of doing just that tonight. Due to a series of circumstances, his marriage to Mariam hadn't yet been consummated: he hadn't yet been married to her those first nights; he'd been to drunk the night of his wedding; he'd had business out of town the night after that; and finally he'd simply been too exhausted last night after staying up for hours talking to the Captain and Officers of the Independence, trying to both learn more about their situation and manipulate his way into a position of power and authority alongside the Captain and her Senior Officers.

Mariam had been both eager to avoid having her new husband's cock inside her and anxious to finally get it over with. Losing her virginity to this monster with money was inevitable, of course, so she'd been telling herself When it does finally happen, don't fight it; just get on with it and move on.

She hadn't attended the Captain's discussion with the crew and passengers last night, as Wiggins had said it did not concern her: she would do as he said as she was nothing more than his wife. She'd fallen asleep long before he returned, and when she awoke, he was still very much soundly asleep in the bed next to her, still nearly fully dressed.

She dressed as well and made her way out into the public portions of the boat, looking for food and news. Her ability to listen to and understand English was far better than her ability to speak it, so she spent most of the next couple of hours eavesdropping on conversations all about her, sometimes asking for clarifications but mostly just remaining silent.

And with the world being turned upside down as it was, Mariam began contemplating things she'd never thought of before. And just before noon, she'd made up her mind that she was no longer the little girl from Africa who'd been forced to give away her life and womanhood to help her family financially. She was a bright, intelligent, beautiful, and capable woman who deserved more.

She returned to her stateroom and found her husband only just rousing from their bed. She'd brought him a large cup of coffee with cream and sugar as he always took, but this time around, she included another ingredient taken from Wiggins' medicine bag while he was in their private bathroom emptying his bladder.

"Take your clothes off," Walter demanded once he'd begun to get his wits back. He unbuttoned his robe, dropped it, and began to remove his sleeping clothes, telling her, "Before this fucking virus kills me or you or everyone aboard this ship, I'm gonna finally know what it feels like to be deep inside a dark black girl's tight pink hole."

Mariam was hesitant to begin undressing for her racist, misogynistic, pig of a husband, and had only just bared her chest before Wiggins's 60 year old body began to teeter a bit. He made a snide comment about the boat's pilot not knowing how to do his job, but in reality, the movement of the boat on the very fair seas wasn't the problem.

She knew what the problem was, of course, and she hesitated before removing any more of her clothes, waiting for the sedatives to continue to have their effect. Wiggins saw no further undressing taking place before him and commanded, "Get out of those fucking clothes, wife!"

But Mariam only stood there and watched as her husband teetered even more dramatically, then took a stabilizing step forward and another one left, then fell first to his knees, then to his face. She stood there for the longest time, watching his torso swell and shrink to deeply drawn breaths ... and then he simply and quietly passed away.

Mariam was surprised to find herself very calm at killing Walter Wiggins. She'd expected to panic or scream or at least tremble deep inside. But it had been easy to watch the life slip away from the horrible man's body. She waited a few minutes, then finished undressing before heading into the shower. Mariam needed an excuse for not calling for a doctor -- fearing her husband might be revived -- so she luxuriated under the flow of hot water until the little bathroom was thick with steam.

Finally out and wrapped in her silk robe, she emerged to look down on her surely long gone husband, then screamed at the top of her lungs, once and then twice and finally a third time. A pounding on the door led her to open it to a crewman, who -- after Mariam gestured -- hurried to render first aid to the man who it would be assumed had died of a heart attack.

It was only after the ship's Medic had come and declared Walter Wiggins dead and a quartet of people hauled the body away on a stretcher that Mariam sat down on her bed and then trembled in a range of emotions while crying her eyes out.

 

[PennySaver]

Day 2, midday:

Kimmie Wilson wasn't even supposed to be aboard the Independence, and now here she was essentially trapped. Her mother, Joy, was the company's Charleston-based Master of Stores, which Kimmie had always thought was a rather elegant yet pirate era sounding title for supply clerk. It was Joy's responsibility to ensure that the company's Southern-based boats were properly stocked with food, water, drink, and other non-engineering necessities before they left port.

Joy didn't normally go out on the cruises; her work was at the office and warehouse in Charleston. But this was the Independence's maiden voyage, and she wrangled not only herself but her daughter a crew quarters berth for the 8 day voyage.

Kimmie had worked off and on under her mother since she was 14, and Captain Howard -- with whom Kimmie had struck up an immediate friendship -- was more than happy to have both of the women along for the cruise. Then, just hours before they were to leave, Joy's boss went to the hospital as a result of a car crash, and Joy was asked to stick around Charleston to fill in.

"Go! Go have fun!" Kimmie's mother had told her after verifying with Penny Howard that this was permissible. "You deserve it, for all the help you gave in making this happen."

It had actually made sense for Kimmie to go. She likely knew more about the boat's non-engineering inventory, storage locations, etc., than even the crew members tasked with using them. She was a sharp cookie, and one of her greatest joys -- strange as it might sound -- was organizing stuff: analyzing a situation, making a list of needs and things to do, assigning tasks to those involved, getting the job doing and done, and then once again analyzing things to see how they went. It was a strange thing to be a joy for a beautiful 18 year old girl whose friends were all about makeup, partying, and posting to their social media. But that was Kimmie.

She knocked on the door of Penny's stateroom, heard a word of permission to enter, and went inside. She smiled, asking, "Captain Howard, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes, Kimmie, please come in, sit down," Penny said with a cheery smile and tone. Once the teen was comfortable, the Captain explained, "We lost two-thirds of our crew today, 20 of 30 who left Charleston with us. Now, if this had been anything but this cruise's maiden voyage, we wouldn't have had that many crew to begin with. The Independence, under normal circumstances, would have been crewed by 4 on the bridge, 6 in the engineering spaces, and 10 topside, to directly tend to the guests. 20 people on a normal voyage. We now have 10, and -- the reason I've invited you here to speak with me -- none of them were trained to deal with the boat's stores: inventory, scheduling of stores usage, etcetera."

Penny hesitated a moment, seeing quickly that the girl understood where this was going. She smiled as she turned and retrieved a crew uniform, neatly folded on the nearby couch with a pair of non-skid black deck shoes on top. She offered them out toward Kimmie and said, "I'd like to invite you to be Master of Stores aboard Independence."

Kimmie's lips spread wide instantly, and her entire body exploded in goosebumps. In surprise she asked, "Really?"

"Really," Penny said as the girl took the uniform. She quickly listed some of the duties and responsibilities Kimmie would have, as well as telling her, "In addition to having a major role inventory control and distribution, you would have a direct supervisory role over at least 4 other crew members. They are all older than you, Kimmie, and some of them have several cruises already under their belt. There might be a little push back from some of them, to suddenly having a teenage boss. Do you think you can handle this?"

Kimmie thought for a moment, then said confidently, "I can handle it, Captain."

They talked about the job a bit more before standing and shaking hands before Kimmie left to return to her cabin to change. The uniform was a bit large on her 5'6", 115 pound, 32B-24-33 frame, failing to show off her delicious curves like much of her normal summer wardrobe did. But with a needle and a bit of thread, Kimmie knew she could tuck in in around her bosom waist, and hips.

The first thing she did once she was properly uniformed was to meet with the people who'd be working with and for her in the galley. After the disembarkation of the other 20 crew, Kimmie was looking at 1 chef, 1 housekeeper, 1 bartender who also served as a waiter, and 1 casino dealer who waitressed as well.

Surprisingly, there were also 3 guests in attendance, people who had asked the Captain if they could somehow provide a service. 1 was a chef at an upscale restaurant in Charleston; 1 was a busboy at another restaurant who had also been taking cooking classes at the local community college; and 1 was a day laborer who simply wanted to offer his help should there be a need, which Kimmie told him there certainly would be.

She introduced herself, then told them, "I want it to be clear that my main task here as your boss is not to order you around all the time. You all know your jobs, better than I do. My job is to manage resources and give you help and guidance when you need it and to ensure that things operate smoothly aboard Independence."

Kimmie spoke about how this plague had presented them with a situation none of them had expected. She choked up a bit when she thought about her mother, with whom she'd spoken on the phone earlier in the day but hadn't been able to contact in the past few hours.

She spoke of how the mission of the cruise had obviously changed, something the Captain had spoken about both last night before people made the decision to leave and again this morning in time to let those who wished to remain to understand the new situation.

"This is no longer a pleasure cruise, and we are no longer servants to the passengers who remained behind," Kimmie said, a strong stand for such a young woman. "However! We still owe the guests -- and each other -- a due amount of respect and courtesy. We are all in this together, and we can't know how long this is going to last. Be kind to others, and they will be kind to you. The Captain will speak to the guests about what's expected of them in the future. That is not for us to determine. For now, do your part in making others comfortable and happy. We're still on the job."

The 7 in front of her had questions, and Kimmie answered them as best as she could. Finally, she told them, "Okay. Let's get to work. We have a meal to prepare. I will be in the what I guess is my new office, looking at the inventory sheets again. If you have questions, comments or concerns, don't hesitate to come to me. If you don't think I can deal with them, take them to the Captain."

They dispersed, and Kimmie went to the little room that the Captain had told her she could use as her office. She hooked the door to the wall to keep it open, wanting anyone who wished to speak to her to know that they were welcomed.

 

[KyleReevis]

(OOC: Hey, add one more to the Kitchen Staff, okay?)

Richard "Ricky" Robinson was on his fourth cruise with the company. It was his first actual cruise on Independence, although he'd been out on its two shake down cruises, too.

He was only 22 years old. But this was his 6th year in the cruise boat industry. At 16, he'd lied on his initial application about his age. As a supposed 18 year old, he'd worked in the kitchen, washing dishes and such. Later, he became a waiter, which was his current job.

He was 5'10" and skinny as a rail. When he wasn't working on a boat, he was running. Ricky had been a distance runner through his teens. He'd run several marathons, even winning two in his age group. Some had thought him destined for college sports, even the Olympics.

Hard times at home had ended that dream. Ricky started working, and that had been his life since. He'd been bringing in half the family's income after his mother's diagnosis with cancer. She'd died a year ago, leaving him alone with an alcoholic uncle.

Ricky had thought dying of cancer to be the worse thing that could happen to a person. Now, he wasn't so sure. He'd watched hours of the live reports about the new pandemic. It was gruesome. He'd finally walked away, unable to watch anymore.

He'd started thinking that life was only going to get uglier with every passing moment. Then he met his new boss. Kimmie Wilson was un-fucking-believable. Beautiful face, beautiful tits, beautiful ass, beautiful legs.

He'd seen her before, of course. She'd come to the Independence a couple of times with her mother. She'd looked even better then. Her clothes had been more skin revealing and body hugging. He'd snuck away to one of the crew bathrooms to masturbate during break.

Ricky had found it hard to keep his gaze above Kimmie's neck during her introduction to the Dining Crew. She'd caught him ogling her tits a couple of times, he was certain.

With the loss of so much of the Kitchen Crew, Ricky found himself promoted in a way. He'd been washing dishes, mopping decks, and clearing tables. Now he was doing all of that but was assisting the Chef with cooking as well. It was more work but better work. He was happy.

During the preparation of lunch, the Chef sent him to their boss with a question. Ricky stopped outside Kimmie's office to simply stare at her several seconds. She looked up and smiled. Ricky couldn't know how long she'd been watching him watching her. His face flushed hot. He'd always found it ironic that a Black man could blush. But he did often, and she may have been able to see it.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said timidly, looking to the deck for a moment. He looked up again. "Chef needs to know whether we are cooking a full meal with all the trimmin's, or something simple. He knows we might not be getting a replenishment for a while. If ever."

He got her answer and should have returned to work. But Ricky hesitated, his gaze on her, off her, on her again. "I'm sorry, I, um. I just wanted to tell you that it's a pleasure to be working for you. I know Joy. I know your mother. She was always very good to me. She, um, she, uh, she knew the truth about my age. I lied to get my job. I was 17 when she found out, but she let me stay on. I always appreciated her for that."

Ricky again felt a blush as he contemplated saying more. He had already begun fantasizing about his chances of making Kimmie his girlfriend. The number of potential male partners was pretty small. (Ricky was, of course, assuming that Kimmie wasn't a lesbian.)

He doubted very much that he had a chance with Kimmie at all. He wasn't particularly handsome. And he wasn't particularly eligible. He was a kitchen laborer with no money or future. And Kimmie was, well, Kimmie.

"I'm 22, by the way," Ricky told her. "I just, you know, thought you should know. My personnel record says I'm 24."

Ricky imagined that being a bit closer to her age gave him a better chance with Kimmie. And, of course, there was the last few healthy men left alive on Earth thing. Later, he would calculate the odds in his head. He figured they had improved, from one in a billion to one in a million.

They finished their discussion. Ricky headed back to the kitchen with his answer to the Chef's question. A moment came when he had some time between tasks. Ricky slipped away to one of the bathrooms. Picturing Kimmie as he had so often, he again drove his cock to spurt hard and long into a wad of tissue.

This was going to be one fucking hard cruise.

 

[PennySaver]

Kimmie Wilson, Ricky Robinson

Kimmie found Ricky to be absolutely darling. That was probably strange thinking coming from an 18 about a 22 year old. But as they spoke and as he did his best not to ogle her body, Kimmie did her best to contain the smirk that was threatening to give away her feelings about him. She couldn't know that he was thinking to himself that he had no chance with her: not particularly handsome; not particularly eligible; kitchen labor with no money or future was what was going through his head.

In the near future, though, Ricky would learn that he was very lucky in just whom he had assigned his feelings of lust, because Kimmie wasn't the type of woman who demanded all of that from a potential boyfriend, lover, or future husband. She liked honesty, sincerity, kindness, and other such things that had nothing to do with great bodies, perfect faces, positions of power, or stacks of cash.

Neither of them could know it now, but soon enough the two of them would be naked with one another in Kimmie's bed, each of them surrendering their virginity to the other, a state of being that -- ironically -- neither one would know about the other until after they'd already committed to being the other's first.

Kimmie told Ricky to relay the message to Chef that for now, he was to cut back the frills of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. "We need to begin rationing immediately, and making meals less extravagant. We've only had one lunch and one dinner -- yesterday -- and this morning's breakfast was pretty simple. We need to keep it that way, before the guests begin to expect too much. They can't miss what they never had."

When Ricky confessed to being just 22, not 24 as his file said, Kimmie smiled and responded, "I know. My mother told me. Some time ago. I don't care. Neither will the Captain, but, for the time being, let's just leave her in the dark. She won't care about the whole age thing, but she might be concerned about the deception, as slight as it was. Last thing we want is for her to distrust her crew, even for something as meaningless as this."

Ricky departed, and Kimmie went back to contemplating her new job, her new tasks, and the young man who she thought might imminently be her new boyfriend.