Sin and Desire (18 page)

THE BIG DAY ARRIVED. I called Carter to tell him I'd meet everyone at the marina. My strategy was to show up fashionably late and make an Angelina Jolie, red carpet entrance (I can't believe I just said that and besides, I hate that bee-atch for looking so god-damned beautiful even when she's as pregnant as a hippo). 
I chose to wear tight, white Capri pants with a loose fitting, navy and white striped, nautical-looking top. I found an adorable floppy sun hat and wore that atop my newly coifed and highlighted blond locks. My eyes are covered with massive, black Gucci sunglasses (knock-offs of course-I'm poor, poor, poor). Completing the ensemble, my fashionista friends, are the CUTEST little Havaiana flip flops that matched my top perfectly. I brought an oversized canvas bag with all my other outfits for the cruise (more about those later). 
Ta da! I arrive one-half hour late as planned. I see the boys on the deck of the boat huddling around the cockpit, probably getting hardons about the electronic equipment. I stand at the base of the gangplank waiting for them to notice me. FINALLY, Carter looks over and does a double-take. It was just priceless how his mouth hung open. 
My friends see me at Murphy's usually wearing torn blue jeans or cargo shorts with basic blouses or knit tops; tomboy clothes. They were not prepared for the new Alexis. Soon, all five of them were openly staring at me on the marina dock posed like a fashion model.
"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" I called up to Carter.
I almost burst out laughing the way the boys jostled each as they each tried to be first over to the gang-plank. 
"Yes, um, sure. Come abroad, I mean aboard, Nebr..., I mean Alex...is," Carter stuttered. Carter NEVER is at a loss for words. NEVER! Hmm, maybe this plan is working. 
"Thank you very much," I replied as I hold out my hand in the universal female sign language that says 'I'm so helpless. Please hold my hand so I don't stumble'. 
In the rugby scrum that occurred because of that gesture, Rocky won the right to help me board the boat because of his bulk and aggressiveness. I held his iron-hard hand as we strolled up the incline. He looked at me like puppy in a shelter trying to get the attention of a prospective owner. 
When I reached the top of the gangplank I leaned over and kissed Rocky on the cheek and said "Thank you Jesse". Then I greeted each one of the boys with a kiss on their cheeks and said their names like I was the Queen of bloody England giving knighthoods: "Arthur"; "Jarod"; "Steven"; "Carter". 
Will you allow me a moment to gloat a little? These yahoos were struck dumb. Not dumb like ignorant. Dumb like speechless. Whatever mindset they may have had about this cruise just flew out of their brains like confetti thrown at a New Year's Party. I was in HEAVEN!
I paused dramatically as I looked them over and said, "Gentlemen, let's get this party started." And then I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. They looked so damned cute in their baggy cargo shorts, Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. This was going to be an outstanding day.
They immediately relaxed; relieved that an alien hadn't overtaken my body. The normal boy banter fired up as they helped Carter ready the boat for our cruise. Soon we were motoring away from the marina and into open water. 
After we were safely out of the inter-coastal Carter turned the helm over to Meat and Condor. Rocky and Art the Fart were readying food and drinks at the bar. Carter asked me to accompany him below deck so I could drop my tote bag in my room. 
ROOM? Ha! Are you kidding me? My entire efficiency apartment could fit in here, plus have room for an iron lung machine. I felt like doing a Tiger Woods arm pump and screaming 'Yessssss'. Of course, by now you know I'm much more sophisticated than that. I merely smiled at Carter and said, "This is so lovely! Let me powder my nose and I'll join you boys shortly." 
After Carter closed the door behind him I twirled around the suite like a ballerina. I ran my hands over the mahogany wood and the granite counters and the sleek bedcovers. OMG, I hugged myself when I looked into the head (yep, I know my nautical terms). 
I composed myself and went back up the stairs to join the boys on top. Rocky and Art the Fart had set up a buffet line of great looking finger food for the day. Condor put a white towel over his bare arm, bowed to me and asked, "Missy likee drinkee?"
When I'm at sea (gawd, would you listen to me!) I like the cute tropical drinks with umbrellas. So I responded, "Jeeves, bring me a Pina Colada, chop chop!" 
Our gang settled into the rhythm of the ocean waves, the salty air, drinking, laughing and talking. Jimmy Buffett was crooning his tropical tunes through the boat's music system. The afternoon was warming up so I excused myself to go change into PHASE TWO of my evil plan.
Down in my suite I stripped down to my birthday suit and rummaged in my tote bag for my second secret weapon. I pulled out my one ungodly extravagant purchase; a Brazilian thong bikini (hey, I already had the wax so it seemed appropriate). When I bought it I had to hold my breath when the saleslady ran my credit card. These teeny, tiny little pieces of fabric cost more per millimeter than spun gold. 
I had a moment of trepidation when I put the thong on. Jesus, it was small! Gulp. Luckily I was fortified with a good buzz from the rum drinks so I forged on by putting on my top. I use the term loosely of course. The 'top' was essentially two pieces of fabric, each smaller than a pirate's eye patch that barely covered my nipples. The strings tied around my neck and back because lord knows I don't have the cleavage to hold the slippery material in place. The bikini was fire engine red which contrasted nicely with my fair skin. I slipped on a semi-transparent, white caftan and put up the loose hood to enhance the unveiling of Alexis, goddess of Brazil. 

I went back up to the party and strolled casually around my five boys. I knew the sun behind me was creating a silhouette of my slim torso through the caftan. For the second time in one day I stopped all conversation amongst my friends. God, I am getting a big head!
"Guys, would one of you spread a towel on the sun deck? I'm a little sleepy from the food and drinks and would like to snooze in the sun for a while," I asked coyly. I swear I did NOT bat my eyes either. Once again there was a commotion of motion for the men to vie for the honor of waiting on her highness. Meat won this round by whipping out a white towel out of the storage bin he was closest to. He hustled over to the padded sun deck and dramatically whipped the huge towel open like a matador in the bull ring. 
"Thank you Meat! Now I need one more favor; would you rub some sunblock oil on my backside?" I was facing away from my friends so I knew my best side was about to be introduced to my gang of five. I flipped back the hood, unzipped the caftan and let it drop to the teak floor like a new statue being unveiled in the city park. 
I'm not sure who did it since I was looking out across the ocean but someone tipped over their beer and said 'Holy Shit!' It sounded like Condor. I'm not a vain person but damn it, I know what it means when a guy fumbles his precious beer like that. The red strings of my thong hugged my hips and disappeared down the crack of my ass. The tiny strings of my top were barely visible since they simply supported the front patches covering my baby titties. 
I handed Meat the bottle of oil, laid down on the towel and said, "Get busy."
If you recall, I told you Meat is this hunky specimen who does international business deals on a daily basis and has his choice of air-headed women at Murphy's. He speaks several languages fluently but at this moment in time his response sounded like pig-Latin. 
"What did you say, Meat?" I asked innocently.
"Why, I mean, where do you want it?" he stuttered. 
"All over, silly," I replied in a breathy voice that I thought sounded sexy. I laid my head down on my arms, facing away from Meat and wondered how long it would take him to start. One other little devious trick I had was to take off my huge sunglasses and hold them away from my face a little bit so the lens acted like a mirror. 
I could see Meat gesturing to the other four guys like a monkey in a zoo. It was easy to tell that he was asking for advice about how to go about rubbing oil on someone who, up until today, had been one of the 'boys'. My ass was humped up in the air like they do when a girl lays down flat on her tummy. I nearly laughed out loud when I saw the reflection of Art the Fart do a pantomime of a man masturbating. 
Finally I felt the tentative touch of Meat's fingertips on my shoulders. He must have thought I was radioactive based on how light his rubbing was. I squirmed a little to encourage him to keep going. He added his other hand to the job and he started to get into a rhythm on my shoulders. His circular rubbing worked down to the small of my back and I felt him pausing at the swell of my ass cheeks. 
Instead of continuing, Meat shifted positions and moved down to my feet. He oiled up his hands again and started working up my calves and thighs. Soon, however, he faced the same conundrum that he had on the top side-what do I do about this girl's ass? He paused so long that I sleepily called out to him, "Meat, my butt will burn if you don't oil it."
Again, I was eyeballing the other men in my glasses. They were all making shooing motions with their hands that meant 'get on with it you fucking idiot!'
Meat must have dumped half the bottle of oil in his hands because when he finally laid one hand on my butt cheek I could feel the oil run toward my crack. He must have noticed because he hurriedly tried to stop the drip from reaching my thong that was buried deep in my crack. In doing so his thumb slipped between my two ass cheeks like an otter diving into a pond. 
I heard a kind of strangled cry come from poor Meat as he fumbled around trying to do damage control. My butt was getting massaged like a Kobe beef cow in Japan. What I noticed the most was that his thumbs were pulling my cheeks apart occasionally and lingering in that position a little longer than necessary. Yes! Thank you my Brazilian hand maidens!
I turned my head back to face toward the group and said, "Thank you so much, Meat. I'm sure that I'm well protected from the sun now. You can go back to your beer."
Meat was fidgeting around, still facing away from his buddies. He was surreptitiously trying to adjust his namesake body part which had apparently gotten aroused during the oiling ceremony. I glanced down at his crotch and saw what looked to be the center pole of a circus tent inside his cargo shorts. It was soooo funny. And soooo provocative.
He finally wrestled his anaconda down and shuffled back to his deck chair and gratefully downed the rest of his bottle of Corona. The other boys were pretending to not notice Meat's discomfort or my shining ass. When Carter finally looked over at me I gave him my brightest smile and said coyly, "You forgot to tell us why we are on this special cruise. What's the obscure holiday you mentioned?"
Even though Carter was visibly flustered by the erotic body massage he just witnessed, he managed to recover with the reply, "Um, yes, the surprise is will be revealed tonight after dinner. Just be patient."
"Okie Dokie, Carter. Hey, wake me if I fall asleep too long on my tummy. I want some sun on my front side too," I replied.
I really didn't expect to fall asleep but damned if I didn't. It must have been the combination of warm sun, salty air and alcohol but all of a sudden I felt a hand on my shoulder. Condor said quietly, "Alex, you asked to be awakened. Is that ok?"
Condor kinda jumped back when I turned over quickly. He or the other boys hadn't seen the front of my micro bikini. His eyes were glued to the itty, bitty red patch barely covering my nether region. I stretched like a cat in a sunny window, arching my back. That move was a little wasted because of my lack of breasts, but I knew it would make my pelvis thrust upward and draw attention away from my flat chest.
"Honey, would you be a dear and oil my front? I'm feeling really lazy," I slyly asked Condor. 
Now remember Condor is a tough, macho cop. He deals with a lot of shit in his job that makes him a little hard core on the exterior. With my request, however, you would have thought he was a gay interior decorator. He beamed from ear to ear at the other men who were shooting eye daggers at him for being in the right place at the right time. 
The bottle of oil was snatched up quickly and like Meat, Condor started rubbing the slippery liquid on my safest outer limbs. His arms are so damn long that he could sit by my waist and still reach both ends of me easily. I was really enjoying this princess treatment. Maybe I'll hijack this yacht and enslave these boys to my harem.
Another side benefit I didn't expect was the sensuous nature of the oil massage. Condor was taking a lot longer than necessary working his way from toes and fingers inward. His hands were very hard from lifting weights but they felt soooo good I started to get aroused. 
God has a way of compensating for flaws in her master blueprints of human beings. Witness the blind person with supercharged hearing and smell. In my case, because she chose not to grace me with much breast tissue I was given extraordinary nipples. When I get cold or sexually aroused my nipples get very large and hard. Condor was doing such a good job stoking my fire that I could feel my nips getting bigger by the moment. I was wearing my very dark sunglasses so I could surreptitiously watch Condor's eyes widen as he observed my nearly flat chest all of a sudden get much more interesting. My nips were like two hard lemon drops under my bikini top. 
Condor to his credit did not falter too much as he oiled the rest of my chest and stomach. I bit my tongue to keep from giggling when I heard the deck chairs shifting around. Condor was blocking the other boys' view of the final frontier of the oil application! 
The fabric of my red bikini was silky and clingy. My Brazilian wax left me bare as a newborn baby. Put those two facts together and there is very little left to the imagination for a trained observer like Condor. I knew without looking that my pussy lips were clearly outlined by the little patch of modesty the bikini bottom represented. His oily fingers were sneaking dangerously close to home base. I could feel one hand pressing on my pelvic bone that normally would have some vegetation growing on it. Condor's other hand was working upward from my smooth thighs. 
I gave a tiny little groan of pleasure and spread my legs apart slightly to give Condor a better view and access if he chose to. His large hand slipped between my thighs and I'm not going to lie, I felt the very early stages of the big O. For me that means my insides get all tingly and I actually feel like peeing! Careful girl! Save some for the finale!
I cleared my throat and said, "Thank you Condor, that was so nice of you. I don't think there's a chance of me getting burned now." I gave him one my patented smiles and touched his arm in gratitude. Sure enough, there had been a flag raising ceremony in his loose shorts too. In his case I suspect he was going commando today because there was a little wet spot on his dark cargos. Hee hee. God, I'm so naughty. 
Since I already had my siesta I decided to join the conversation by turning on my side toward the group of men who were in a semi-circle facing me. I propped up my head with my arm and smiled warmly at my boys. The sun was getting lower on the horizon but was it still intense as it was directly in my face. 
Girls with rounded, womanly hips may have struck a better pose than mine at the moment but I did have the advantage of a very lean body so my pelvic bones were prominent and kinda sexy, if you lean toward the runway model look. This posture also made my bikini bottom nearly disappear between my thighs. I could see some adam's apples bobbing as my buds tried to reconcile the fact that just a few days ago I was just another one of the guys arguing who was better; Kobe or LeBron. 
"So, what's for dinner tonight," I asked. "I'm getting hungry." All the guys knew I was a chow hound. I never share my food like a lot of girls do, thinking it made them look feminine. I've been known to distract other male eaters by pointing out the window and exclaiming, "Oh my God, look at the hooters on that skank!" That's when I would snatch some of their fries or onion rings.
"Geez, keep your pants on Neska," Art the Fart replied and then continued, "Oh, wait, you don't have any pants on." Art then hee-hawed like a mule, slapping his thighs at his own wit. Art the Fart seemed to be the least affected by my stunning beauty-I will make him pay-everyone must worship Alexis today. 
Carter answered my question after Art's braying subsided. "We will dine at sunset here on the deck in one hour. Anyone who wants to shower and freshen up should get a move on. After dinner we go below, play poker and celebrate the holiday."
"And what did you say the holiday was, Carter?" I asked again.
"Nice try, Nebraska," Carter retorted, "You will find out with everyone else." 
You know my suspicions that all the others were in on this. I could see the little eye shifts from Meat to Condor to Rocky. I was already getting ready for poker by reading their facial tics. Ha! Phase 2 (or 3, I forget where I am now) is about to begin.
"Sure, Carter, I'm just excited about it. You know how I love holidays," I answered. With that I got up, turned my back to the boys, bent over at the waist and picked up my caftan. Meat was my butt oiler earlier so he had a pretty good idea of how tiny my thong was. Dental floss may be thicker. I knew my butt cheeks would spread a little when I bent over but I did it with the confidence of native girl from Ipanema. My tiny, bleached anus would be clearly visible and winking like a hooker at a Navy Yard. Thank you, thank you, thank you my asshole bleaching sister; I'm writing a letter of commendation to your boss. 
I stood up and draped the caftan over my arm. "Ok, boys, Alex is going to do her thing," I stated as I sauntered around them toward the stairs. I tweaked Rocky's kinda gnarly ear (a wrestler's badge of courage) on the way by. "See ya soon". 
I won't bore you with all the details of my preparations but I will tell you that I dabbed a dot of Chance by Chanel (a gift from one of my thousands of admirers) under each ear, each nipple and on my upper thighs. The Frenchies call this liquid gold 'parfum'. I call it 'bait'. 
Now it was time to reach into my tote bag of tricks and put on layer after layer of clothes that I brought along. All of the under-layers were very thin so I wouldn't look bulky. I had on three panties; starting with a tiny, sheer white thong covered by a black, French cut panty to the outer layer of My Little Pony cotton panties. On top, I wore a sheer, white camisole that matched my thong. I slipped on white, lace topped, thigh high Donna Karan nylons that felt like feathers encasing my smooth legs. The top layer was a cute baby-doll number I picked up cheap at Needless Mark-ups (I mean Neiman-Marcus). I put on some fuck-me pumps that I NEVER wear because they hurt like hell. 
Are you sensing my strategy? Have you picked up the bread crumbs I dropped along the path of this story? Are you annoyed that there hasn't been any steaming, torrid sex yet? Ok, to review: National Nude Day; a poker night; Alex sucks at poker. Me thinks there may be a strip poker game upcoming with the gang of five conspirators who think they can take advantage of my large print face. We'll see....
I made my grand entrance in about seventy minutes (never be early, girls). The boys had set up a great looking, white linen table with mounds of catered food served family style. There were oysters on the half-shell in a bed of ice, cold jumbo shrimp as big as bananas, a veggie plate and gigantic strawberries next to a dish of whipped cream.