Show Me The Ropes ~ Lothario Series ~ Book 2

• Show Me the Ropes
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• About The Author
  
• Red Sage Publishing
  

Fallon slid the file folder into the back of the drawer. She had more than enough research data to support the book, so why was she still here? Her fingers wandered to the front of the drawer. Pink-tabbed folders filled the front half, one for every female subject she’d coached in the last two years. The other half were blue-tabbed. Her fingers stopped on the file labeled 'Subject M5, Richard Wolfe.' Even if misfiled, she’d have no trouble finding it. The tattered tab told its own story. Not that Subject M5 had been back. No, there had only been the one research session, but she’d read the report almost daily since she’d written it nearly two years ago.

She smoothed the file open on her desk. There wasn’t a professional observation in it. This file wasn’t part of her research and never would be. This one was personal. Every word brought back memories of That Day. That’s the way she thought of it now, as some catastrophic event that deserved a name. The passage of time hadn’t tempered her feelings. Memories of That Day still hurt. And aroused.

 Fallon tried to ignore the insistent throbbing between her legs, even as she cursed her weakness.

Thinking back to That Day, she knew she should have handled it differently. She should have told Subject M5, Richard, to leave when it became apparent his only interest was in the instructor. What manner of woman was she, that she’d allowed him such liberties? Even worse, what manner of woman was she, that she would allow him the same liberty again?

Ever since That Day, Richard had pursued her, vigorously at first, and more subtly the last few months. He’d tried every trick in the book to get her into bed, but she’d told him, in clear, standard American English, that she wouldn’t jeopardize her research, or get involved with her employer, especially while said employer screwed every willing female in sight. On a ship the size of the
Lothario
, and because the ship was the
Lothario
, there was no shortage of available vaginas. She had no intention of her vagina being one in a long list of visited and forgotten places. No matter what said vagina wept for.

Fallon crossed her legs in hope the added pressure would ease the ache building there. Sometimes she believed women thought with their pussies as much as men thought with their cocks. Hers seemed to have a one-track mind—Richard Wolfe.

If it wasn’t for the way Richard’s eyes heated every time he saw her, she might think he’d lost interest, he’d become so civilized in his pursuit. They’d even become friends of a sort. As Cruise Director, Richard often needed help with events. If she didn’t have a session booked, she volunteered her time, choosing those events Richard would attend.

She sighed and closed the folder. Reading the report again wouldn’t change anything. Richard Wolfe was still her employer, still co-owner of the
Lothario
, and as far as she knew, still screwing his way through the passenger list every seven days. And, he was still, against her better judgment, the man she loved.

She’d come to terms with the revelation months ago and it was why, with her research done, and the book all but written, she was still aboard the
Lothario
, still giving private fellatio and cunnilingus instruction to couples under the guise of research. Perhaps it was unethical to continue to use the passengers, but they did receive legitimate instruction. Where else could you go for intimacy lessons from a Ph.D. in human sexuality? Maybe it was vanity, but Fallon liked to think she provided a valuable service. Anyone who thought sex was instinctual thought wrong. Perhaps the basics were—insert tab A into slot B. However, there was much more to sexual fulfillment than mechanics. That’s where she came in. Oral sex, done right, could add a new dimension to a couple’s love life.

Richard knew how to do it right. She squeezed her crossed legs tighter.

Most people thought it a one sided pleasure, but those were the ones who didn’t know how to do it correctly. That was the theory on which she’d based her book, and two years of research had convinced her she was right. Nearly one hundred percent of her subjects reported immense satisfaction from bringing their partner to orgasm orally. She’d perfected her instruction techniques, documented the most effective moves, and quantified the results.

A major publishing house had expressed an interest in the book. She’d put them off for several months, postponing the inevitable. Richard Wolfe wasn’t the man for her, no matter what her heart and body had to say about the subject, and she couldn’t stay onboard the
Lothario
indefinitely hoping he’d morph into the man she wanted, needed, him to be.

She closed the file and slid it back into the drawer. The time had come.

* * * * *

Richard sank into his desk chair and crossed his arms on the desktop. His forehead dropped to rest on top of his arms. Thank God the passengers were gone, for now. He had a few blissfully quiet hours until the new crop came aboard. Two whole hours of solitude. He refused to think about the fact his business partner had abandoned ship the day before, sailing off to domestic bliss with his new girlfriend, and leaving him in charge. Ryan Callahan had found the love of his life and said goodbye to the
Lothario
, perhaps for good.

With a little luck, Richard would be following Ryan, but first, he had to convince the woman he loved to give him a chance. He’d tried everything he knew to get her attention. He’d tried the playboy angle, parading a variety of women in front of her in a futile effort to make her jealous, and he could admit now, he’d been searching for a viable substitute for the woman he couldn’t have. Instead of jealousy, he’d garnered disgust from Fallon and from himself. He’d tried courting her, but as Cruise Director, he was always in the company of beautiful, desirable women.

How he would ever convince Fallon he wasn’t the reprobate she believed him to be? He had no idea. Perhaps if he told her what he’d done eighteen months ago, she might give him the chance he was hoping for. No, as long as there was still a chance he could convince her he’d changed, then he preferred to keep his desperation to himself.

Everyone knew not to disturb him for these two precious hours unless the ship was sinking, or on fire, so at the sound of his office door opening, he jerked upright. Fallon stood in the doorway as if he’d conjured her from his frustrated desire. Sharp pain gripped his groin and he willed his erection to wither. He’d become a master at self-control when other women were around, but with Fallon it was still a major struggle, one he lost more often than he won.

“Richard, do you have minute?”

A minute. An hour. A lifetime
. “Sure. What’s up?”
Besides me
?

She kept her grip on the doorknob, half in, and half out of the office, as if she prepared to run and use the door as a shield if he moved toward her. “I. . . I’m resigning, effective immediately.”

Well, shit
. “Come in and shut the door, Fallon. I promise I won’t bite.”

She glanced over her shoulder as if hoping someone else would come by and witness her entering his office. Her smart, chin-length blond hair fanned out to hide her profile.