Alice2015
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2014
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Connie Lang (OOC link)
Day 1, 10 o'clock (12 hours after TLWO):
Connie knew who buttered her bread, so she'd spent most of the morning following Robert around and, when necessary, tending to his personal needs. Those personal needs hadn't included sexual activity this morning, obviously; her services to him didn't solely include her taking his cock into one of her holes to fulfill that particular need. She did, however, fetch him coffee and a snack when that need struck, and -- with the clipboard she'd bummed off a crew member earlier this morning -- jotted down things that Robert wanted to be remembered and acted upon, either in the minutes and hours ahead or longer term, once they'd concluded this particular bit of madness and the bigger one -- the Majestic's failure to operate -- that surrounded this one.
At one point, Robert surprisingly cut Connie loose, telling her she wasn't needed. She didn't question that, of course; she simply told him that when he needed her again, she'd be in her own stateroom or perhaps in the Grand Dining Room, where a sort of buffet was being established to keep the guests and crew fed and hydrated.
She didn't head for either of those locations, though. Connie was still bothered by what had happened between her and Brent Mack late last night. Not once in the 6 years during which she'd been Robert Parker's kept woman had she gotten so close to having another man's cock inside her. Connie was very happy with her life and she didn't want to mess that up by cheating on Robert. She made good money, she lived comfortably, and -- more often than not -- she even enjoyed being her boss's lover.
There were times when she would have preferred to be able to say Not tonight, I've got a headache, but she knew that that had never been an option. If one looked at it logically, Connie didn't live that much different than many wives did. How many women across this country or across this world parted their legs for their husbands when they would rather not simply because without said man, they couldn't have what they had or fed the children they'd birthed?
And fuck, the money was good!
But right now, she felt as though she needed to once again clarify what had happened between her and Brent, as well as ensure that he understood the reasons for him not bragging to his shipmates -- yachtmates? -- about what he'd nearly done the night before with the sexy plaything the boat's owner had brought aboard with him.
Connie couldn't simply walk around asking crew Have you seen Brent Mack anywhere...? She might as well be saying, You know, the beautiful black man who's cock I want inside me? So instead, she simply wandered about the Majestic, watching the work that was being done, knowing -- or at least believing and hoping -- that Brent was mixed up in it all. And sure enough, after just a few minutes of wandering, she came across him on one of the upper decks, working on some contraption that involved several small tanks and a whole lot of piping.
There were other crew working her as well, so Connie addressed her question to one of them to misdirect her attention, "So, is this what's going to let us use the toilets?"
To her dismay, Connie felt a blush flood her fair skinned cheeks. Jesus, why didn't you just ask 'Can I take a poop now?' What's wrong with you? One of the crew -- after giving her a now almost expected once over up and down survey -- stepped up and began explaining what they were trying to accomplish. Connie might have looked like a dumb blonde, but she was anything but; she followed the man's explanation perfectly fine and would have even if he hadn't dumbed it down for her.
Then, to dispel any thoughts he might have about her lack of understanding about anything complex, she shot a series of questions at him related to head and head loss, flow rates, the loss of energy and efficiency between the manual labor that was involved in getting the water this high on the craft and the resulting flushing power, and more. The man stood there in silence a moment, staring at Connie with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
He was about to open him mouth, likely to answer her questions as best he could, when -- seeing that at this moment only that man and Brent were present -- she smiled broadly to him and asked, "Would you be a darling ... and go down to the ... I think you guys call it the GDR...?"
"Yeah, um, the Grand Dining Room, sure," he fumbled.
"I could really use a bottle of water," Connie said, her tone just on the edge of flirting. She looked to Brent, then back to the man, adding, "Maybe your friend here could use one, too?"
The man didn't hesitate, instead tipping his ballcap as if he was some gentleman cowboy in a country bar and taking off. Once he was gone, Connie stepped closer, checked that they were in fact alone, and smiled broadly. "I wanted to see you ... to talk to you ... about last night."
She paused in case Brent had something he wanted to say, then continued, "I needed to ask ... I need to know ... you didn't talk to anyone about what happened between us last night, right?"
Day 1, 10 o'clock (12 hours after TLWO):
Connie knew who buttered her bread, so she'd spent most of the morning following Robert around and, when necessary, tending to his personal needs. Those personal needs hadn't included sexual activity this morning, obviously; her services to him didn't solely include her taking his cock into one of her holes to fulfill that particular need. She did, however, fetch him coffee and a snack when that need struck, and -- with the clipboard she'd bummed off a crew member earlier this morning -- jotted down things that Robert wanted to be remembered and acted upon, either in the minutes and hours ahead or longer term, once they'd concluded this particular bit of madness and the bigger one -- the Majestic's failure to operate -- that surrounded this one.
At one point, Robert surprisingly cut Connie loose, telling her she wasn't needed. She didn't question that, of course; she simply told him that when he needed her again, she'd be in her own stateroom or perhaps in the Grand Dining Room, where a sort of buffet was being established to keep the guests and crew fed and hydrated.
She didn't head for either of those locations, though. Connie was still bothered by what had happened between her and Brent Mack late last night. Not once in the 6 years during which she'd been Robert Parker's kept woman had she gotten so close to having another man's cock inside her. Connie was very happy with her life and she didn't want to mess that up by cheating on Robert. She made good money, she lived comfortably, and -- more often than not -- she even enjoyed being her boss's lover.
There were times when she would have preferred to be able to say Not tonight, I've got a headache, but she knew that that had never been an option. If one looked at it logically, Connie didn't live that much different than many wives did. How many women across this country or across this world parted their legs for their husbands when they would rather not simply because without said man, they couldn't have what they had or fed the children they'd birthed?
And fuck, the money was good!
But right now, she felt as though she needed to once again clarify what had happened between her and Brent, as well as ensure that he understood the reasons for him not bragging to his shipmates -- yachtmates? -- about what he'd nearly done the night before with the sexy plaything the boat's owner had brought aboard with him.
Connie couldn't simply walk around asking crew Have you seen Brent Mack anywhere...? She might as well be saying, You know, the beautiful black man who's cock I want inside me? So instead, she simply wandered about the Majestic, watching the work that was being done, knowing -- or at least believing and hoping -- that Brent was mixed up in it all. And sure enough, after just a few minutes of wandering, she came across him on one of the upper decks, working on some contraption that involved several small tanks and a whole lot of piping.
There were other crew working her as well, so Connie addressed her question to one of them to misdirect her attention, "So, is this what's going to let us use the toilets?"
To her dismay, Connie felt a blush flood her fair skinned cheeks. Jesus, why didn't you just ask 'Can I take a poop now?' What's wrong with you? One of the crew -- after giving her a now almost expected once over up and down survey -- stepped up and began explaining what they were trying to accomplish. Connie might have looked like a dumb blonde, but she was anything but; she followed the man's explanation perfectly fine and would have even if he hadn't dumbed it down for her.
Then, to dispel any thoughts he might have about her lack of understanding about anything complex, she shot a series of questions at him related to head and head loss, flow rates, the loss of energy and efficiency between the manual labor that was involved in getting the water this high on the craft and the resulting flushing power, and more. The man stood there in silence a moment, staring at Connie with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
He was about to open him mouth, likely to answer her questions as best he could, when -- seeing that at this moment only that man and Brent were present -- she smiled broadly to him and asked, "Would you be a darling ... and go down to the ... I think you guys call it the GDR...?"
"Yeah, um, the Grand Dining Room, sure," he fumbled.
"I could really use a bottle of water," Connie said, her tone just on the edge of flirting. She looked to Brent, then back to the man, adding, "Maybe your friend here could use one, too?"
The man didn't hesitate, instead tipping his ballcap as if he was some gentleman cowboy in a country bar and taking off. Once he was gone, Connie stepped closer, checked that they were in fact alone, and smiled broadly. "I wanted to see you ... to talk to you ... about last night."
She paused in case Brent had something he wanted to say, then continued, "I needed to ask ... I need to know ... you didn't talk to anyone about what happened between us last night, right?"