The Yacht Club - 1. Chapter 1

 

Day 1: Sunday: Brooklyn Pier, NY

The limousine cruised across a sea of asphalt, following the signs that said ‘passenger terminal’. This sure as fuck didn’t look like a passenger terminal; it looked like the kind of place where they loaded and unloaded cargo containers, but without the cranes. But as confusing as it was, I knew we were at the right place, because towering above the pier was the MSC Meraviglia, a massive cruise ship.

“This thing is over 170,000 tons,” Roger said as he gaped at the ship in awe. “That ship can carry over 5000 passengers, plus about 1500 crew members on top of that.”

“Is it going to be full?” I asked. Would I be stepping over people the entire voyage? Would getting a deck chair by the pool take an act of God?

“Supposed to be sold out, but it won’t matter to us, because we’re in the Yacht Club,” he said in his cocky way. I had learned in my 24 years of life that pretty much everything an attorney said was cocky, especially one like Roger who specialized in real estate development. One of his few annoying traits was that he thought being brilliant in that one area of the law made him brilliant at everything.

“Yacht Club?” I asked, like I hadn’t heard him talk about this a million times already. But he was taking me on this cruise to try to make up for blowing me off on my birthday last month, and he was being really sweet, so I prepped myself to listen to him again. He loved to talk about this.

“You’ll see,” he answered, trying to be mysterious, which was totally cute. “This ship has nineteen decks, but there are really only eighteen.”

“Why?” I asked.

“There’s no deck seventeen,” he said in a clipped way as he focused on the ship.

“And why isn’t there a deck seventeen?” I asked. That made no sense at all.

“Because it’s an Italian ship, and in Italy, seventeen is an unlucky number. Kind of like thirteen is in the US,” he said, as if all this superstitious shit was rational and deserved any attention.

“What deck are we on?” I asked.

“Deck eighteen,” he said, looking at me like I was an idiot.

“So doesn’t that mean that we’re really on the seventeenth deck?” I asked playfully. “You got us an unlucky cabin.”

“I’ll show you that’s not true at all,” he said in a sexy way that fired up my libido. “Our cabin number is 18015. Didn’t you see that when you put the tag on your bag?”

“I was worried about packing, not what cabin I’m in,” I said. That came off as a lot bitchier than intended, so I smiled to ease the sting. “Now that I’m here, I’m interested in it.”

“The Yacht Club is a ship-within-a-ship concept,” he explained. I stared at him blankly, because I had no idea what that was. I should have spent more time paying attention to him when he was talking about this in the first place. “You’ll see,” he said cagily. The limo pulled up to an area with a blue carpet and signs that said ‘Yacht Club’. The limo driver unloaded our bags and the baggage handler standing on the blue carpet took them right away.

“Go over to that door and look for the guy who has a ‘Yacht Club’ sign,” he instructed pleasantly as he loaded the bags onto the cart. Roger shrugged, tipped him, then led me across a lane of traffic to where a guy was standing there, holding the sign.

“Yacht Club?” he asked.

“Yes,” Roger answered.

“I’ll need your names,” he said politely.

“Roger Falstaff and Devon Coombe,” Roger answered for us. The guy with the sign checked us off his list, then paused as another couple came up to him. One of the men was a handsome guy in his mid-thirties with reddish blond hair, blue-green eyes, and since he was wearing a shirt that had two buttons opened, it was possible to tell he had a hairy chest. The other giveaway would have been his arms and legs that looked so hairy they could be a forest. This guy could be a total bear but for two things: he had no facial hair, and he was muscular, not big in the chunky kind of way that bears usually were, but in a lither way. The younger guy with him was younger and skinny, with black hair and green eyes. He was wearing a spiked metal collar with a leash ring welded to it, as if to announce to all of us he was into submission of some kind. I smiled, wondering if Roger had inadvertently booked us on a gay cruise, because the younger guy was flaming.

“I’m Keller Biggs,” he said to the Yacht Club guy with a sexy twangy accent that sounded like it might be from Texas. He then gestured to his partner, whom he was clearly annoyed with. “This is Jason Brandt.”

“Welcome to the MSC Meraviglia. Guillermo will lead you through security. Make sure you have your boarding cards and passports handy,” he said, then passed us off to Guillermo. We had to wait for Jason to find his info, and that seemed to irritate Keller even more. It was amusing to watch them try to not have this meltdown spat in front of us.

There were probably a thousand people trying to wind through the boarding lines, but Guillermo took us through a separate entrance and led us straight up to the security checkpoint, then made the other people wait for us to go through. It was nice that we didn’t have to wait, but it bothered me to be shoving our way in front of these people. Roger, I, then Keller breezed through the metal detectors, but Jason set the thing off. The three of us stood there looking back as they pulled Jason off to the side for a scan. The wands were completely silent until they got to his collar at which time they started spitting out noise. I was trying not to laugh my ass off. “We have to take off this collar,” the guard said, eying him strangely. “Do you have the key?”

Jason got a mischievous smile on his face, then answered with a full flame tone. “I don’t have the key; he does,” Jason said, gesturing at Keller.

The guard came over and Keller took the key from his pocket. The key ring was a dildo that was about three inches long. Keller was blushing three shades of red. “Here,” he said, handing the key to him. “You have to push in a little bit as you turn the key.”

“Okay,” the guard said, and took the key like it was a cobra that might just bite him. And at that point, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I broke out laughing. Roger and Keller frowned at me, while Jason laughed with me. Every time I tried to stop, I’d look at the three of them and start laughing all over again. The guard had to try the key three times before it would work, and finally Roger and Keller saw the humor in it.

Guillermo led us to a special Yacht Club reception area with snacks and drinks, that was devoid of passengers except for the four of us. This part was pretty cool. We went up to a counter and the guy there took our passports and boarding cards and all that other stuff they needed to make sure we were legit, then he gave each of us a box labeled with our name. While he checked our passports and shit, we browsed through the stuff they’d given us.

It had standard fare swag, including a beer koozie, and it also contained our key card. There was another box in the box. I opened it up and blinked in surprise. “This looks like a watch,” I said, taking out a wristband that said ‘Yacht Club’ on it.

“Here, let me help you put that on,” he said. “You should always wear it; it’s the easiest way to get access to the Yacht Club and your cabin,” the check-in dude said. They helped us put on our bracelets and then we were in Guillermo’s capable hands again so he could presumably take us aboard. Roger was ready to go on, but I opted to wait for Keller and Jason. They were bound to provide me with some additional comic relief.

Once we were all ready, Guillermo took a shortcut to get near the front of the line, then he pushed his way into the stream of people on the gangway waiting to board, while we followed along diligently. Once again we were blatantly cutting in front of people, and that was grating. I expected that we’d just wait in line here, but that wasn’t the Yacht Club way. “Excuse me,” Guillermo said to the other passengers as he carved a path out for us on the right side, forcing people to move over for us. There was a large woman wearing the most hideous shorts who had the nerve to give me a dirty look. I gave her an apologetic look in response, but that didn’t make her happier. Then again, it was hard to imagine anyone dressed like she was could truly be happy. He then led us through the ship’s security screening where they checked in our key cards. After that our trek took us past some barricades and up to an exclusive elevator designated for Yacht Club check-in only.

I used the elevator trip to study the three other people who were with me: Guillermo wasn’t hot enough to require any thought. I almost laughed again when I saw how the two couples were so similar: A daddy with his twink, even though we dressed very differently. Roger was 42 years old and 6’1 inches tall, which meant he was about five years older and an inch taller than Keller. Roger wore slacks and a blazer; I was surprised that he hadn’t worn a tie. Roger was from Connecticut and dressed that way. Keller wore shorts and had huarache sandals on his feet. He wore a striped camp shirt and had a big gold necklace on. He looked like he could be from New Jersey. Roger carried a briefcase while Keller had a duffel the size of a gym bag.

Jason and I were clearly the twinks. At 5’11, I was about two inches taller than him, but he was clearly older than me. I giggled to myself, thinking that I’d take two extra inches and give up about three years of age any day of the week. I had on some very loose flowing khakis and a cool shirt from Versace, both presents from Roger. My carry-on, or whatever they called that in cruise parlance, was a Louis Vuitton messenger bag that he’d also bought me. I smiled at him, because he really did treat me well. Jason was fully fanning his flame. He wore black leather pants, a white shirt, and had a bright rainbow-colored bomber jacket. He had on a black backpack that was about a third the size of a regular backpack. Our eyes met and we smiled at each other. Jason was cute, but I was way hotter. That probably made me sound like an egotist, but it was true. My friends told me I looked like Ross Lynch without any facial hair. In response I told them they were full of shit, but internally I thought they were right. I smiled, thinking that I looked like Ross Lynch but I moved my body like Troy Sivan. I think I’m a pretty smart guy, but my brain wasn’t getting me attention. I was totally aware that my youth and beauty were my biggest assets.

The elevator doors opened when we got to the sixteenth floor. We exited and walked up to glass doors that were shut. To the side, a tasteful sign notified us this was the Yacht Club. Guillermo explained that we had to use our bracelets, or our cabin key cards, to open the glass doors to this exclusive area. Keller took the initiative and used his wristband first, then we all followed, checking our own bands to make sure they worked. Guillermo led us past the concierge desk and into the lounge, where there were free drinks and finger foods. I briefly scanned the room, noting that normal passengers couldn’t penetrate this world. It was all just a little too pretentious. Guillermo left us at the bar while he went to check on our rooms.

“That entire thing, from when the limo dropped us off to us ending up here in the lounge, only took fifteen minutes,” Roger noted.

“It was amazingly fast,” I agreed, trying to remember the one cruise I’d done with my family about ten years ago. I recalled that getting on board the ship was a hassle and took forever, but fourteen-year-old boys aren’t worried about the details; they’re just bitchy.

“I’ve never boarded a cruise so quickly,” Keller agreed. I suddenly realized we hadn’t introduced ourselves, so I took care of that.

Guillermo came back to explain that our cabins weren’t ready, but offered to take us on a tour. The lounge we were in spanned the front of the ship, with beautiful views of New York City through the windows. Also on this deck was the concierge desk, and the nice people there promised to take care of anything we needed. We climbed up the stairs which glittered. “These stairs are made from Swarovski crystals.”

“Very blingy,” I said, getting a chuckle from Jason.

We emerged onto the eighteenth deck which contained the Yacht Club restaurant. It was located directly above the lounge and had the same views off the front of the ship. “You can eat anywhere on the ship, but this dining room is exclusive to the Yacht Club,” Guillermo explained. “You can come here at any time when they are open.” He was referring to the fact that there were no specified dining times like there would be in the main dining room.

“I like that,” Roger said, smiling at me. I smiled back, because it was good to be just with him, and I was excited to go away for a week where no one else could bother us.

“Me too,” I agreed.

The guide led us up to the nineteenth deck. “This is where you have your own pool, your own buffet bar, and the pool bar.” This was incredible, and all sealed off just for the Yacht Club denizens. This was cool, but I wanted to get settled into my own space before I explored the ship anymore.

“Let’s go check on our cabin,” I suggested. Guillermo led us back down to the eighteenth deck and handed us off to Ramon, our butler, who was very handsome. He told us that he or someone else was available 24/7 if we needed anything, then showed us our cabin. It was really nice, about twice as big as a normal balcony cabin, and had a nice deck. The only problem was that they had no power outlets next to the bed. I asked Ramon if he could find me an extension cord, because I couldn’t imagine going to sleep without my phone next to me, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to run out of battery power because I couldn’t charge it. He promised he’d try to find one. He explained the features in the cabin, then he finally left us alone. “Thanks for bringing me here,” I said to Roger lovingly, and gave him a nice kiss. “This is really nice.”

“I’m looking forward to spending some time with you away from New York without anyone interrupting us,” he said. It made sense that he’d pick a cruise for us to go on, since we were pretty much locked in once we left, and I was guessing that the WiFi was spotty at best. He was a really busy guy, and between work, his kids, and civic engagements, he put in some long hours. He needed a break.

His phone rang and I stared at him. He looked at the caller ID and frowned. “Margaret.” Margaret was his ex-wife. She was a nice enough lady, but it was obvious to me that she wanted Roger back. I didn’t get why she’d want to remarry her gay ex-husband, but it probably had something to do with the security he provided, and the fact that her child support and alimony would dry up in a year when his son, Roderick, turned eighteen.

What I wanted to say was that she was exactly the reason why a cruise was a good idea. She called Roger constantly, always needing something. I didn’t say it, but I thought it. “I’m going to go check out the view,” I said, and went out onto the balcony. Before I could let myself dive into an analysis of my relationship with Roger, I heard the door to the cabin next to ours open, then I heard familiar voices.

“Why did you have to wear a fucking spiked collar when we’re boarding the ship?” Keller asked. “Christ. You’re just trying to embarrass me now.”

“Why would I embarrass you?” Jason demanded. “We’re not a secret.”

“Did you see how those other guys laughed at us?” Keller asked.

“They weren’t laughing at us; they thought we were funny,” Jason said, sounding a bit incredulous. “I’ll bet that’s one of the cruise stories they’ll tell their friends about.” He was right about that. I couldn’t wait to tell my bitches about going through security with those two.

“Why are you even here?” Keller demanded.

“You invited me,” Jason replied calmly.

“Yeah, that was three months ago, and then last week I found out you’d been fucking around with Trent for god only knows how long,” Keller spat furiously. “I told you to fuck off.”

“My name was on the ticket, so I decided to go,” Jason said, with a slight hint of defiance. He sighed loudly before continuing. “I thought that this cruise would give us a chance to work things out.”

“Why the fuck would I want to work things out with you?” Keller asked.

“What’s wrong with having an open relationship?” Jason asked. That seemed like a reasonable question to me, but then again that’s what Roger and I had, at least formally.

“The time to talk about having an open relationship is before you fuck half of Austin,” Keller said. He also had a very good point. “How much money would I have to give you to leave?”

“I want to stay here with you,” Jason said firmly.

“That’s not a price,” Keller said. He sounded very firm, and very determined. Before I could hear the end of their argument, Roger came out.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I know how important your family is to you.” I saw Keller’s head briefly peek around the dividers onto our balcony. I winked at him and saw him recoil in horror, followed shortly by the sound of their balcony door opening and closing. Roger sat in a chair next to me.

“I have a dilemma,” he said, and then put his head in his hands. I gently rubbed his back. “I need to get off the boat and stay in New York.”

I could have thrown a massive fit, especially after he’d totally destroyed my birthday trip, but that wouldn’t do me any good, and it would only make Roger feel like shit. He did so much for me, so I repaid him by being patient and supportive. Most of the time. “Why?” I asked calmly.

“Roderick’s lacrosse team won today, and that means they go to the championships,” he said. “The first game is on Tuesday, then if they win, the next one is on Wednesday. This could end up going on for the whole week.”

“So you’re getting off the ship now?” I asked. He nodded. “Let’s call the butler and start things rolling.” I got up and went inside, ignoring him while I called Ramon and asked him to stop by as soon as possible.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I’ve got time off, so I think I’ll go ahead and go,” I said in a gentle but firm way.

“I want you to,” he said. “You can spend as much as you want at the spa, but you’ve got a $25,000 budget at the shops and the casino.”

“I can work with that,” I said, and gave him a loving kiss. If I went over that amount, he wouldn’t give me shit about it, but when he set limits like that, I always did my best to adhere to them. Besides, it was unlikely I’d spend even half of that. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he said. “You could have been a complete dick about this, and quite frankly, you have every right to.”

“Roger,” I said, and put my hands on his shoulders. “This is going to be an issue for another year until Roderick goes to college. Then you’ll have more control over your own schedule.”

“And it will make it harder for Margaret to invent reasons for me to come running to her,” Roger grumbled.

“Your words, not mine,” I said, then smiled. “Not saying I don’t agree with you.” He laughed, then kissed me again, only that embrace was interrupted when Ramon arrived.

“Mr. Falstaff has a family emergency and needs to leave the ship before we sail,” I said concisely. “I’m staying on board.”

Ramon looked at his watch and got alarmed. “Then we must hurry.” He got on the phone and called someone, speaking rapidly in Spanish. After he hung up he turned to Roger. “Sir, if you will follow me, I will lead you to the gangway.”

“Come on,” I said. I walked with him to the elevator, with him carrying his briefcase and Ramon wheeling along his luggage. We took the elevator down to the embarkation deck and noticed how it was almost deserted.

“You are Mr. Falstaff?” a guy dressed like an officer asked.

“I am,” Roger answered.

“Please follow me. The ship is getting ready to depart,” he said. Roger paused to give me one last kiss, then he walked off the ship.

“I hope everything is alright?” Ramon asked as he led me back to the elevator.

“His son is unexpectedly in a lacrosse tournament, and he didn’t want to miss it,” I said.

“I am sure you will still enjoy your time aboard without him,” he said.

“I’m sure I will,” I said, smiling at him. I got back to the cabin and started to unpack. Things had inevitably gotten wrinkled, so I put them aside and resolved to have them ironed. I did that quickly, just in time to hear the ship’s horn sound. I went out onto the balcony to watch as this massive ship began to power its way into the harbor. I smiled at the view of this city that I loved so much, with the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline offering truly unique vistas.

I walked out of my cabin, exited the Yacht Club, and walked over to the opposite side to watch the ship push away. My phone rang and I saw it was Roger. “I see you on the top deck. Wave at me!” I waved.

“I’ll miss you,” I said. “I’ll see you when I get back.” He said goodbye then we ended the call, while I smiled. Roger was a good boyfriend. At 42, he was still young and virile enough to satisfy my horny 24-year-old libido; and even when he wasn’t horny, he always took care of me. That man knew how to suck a dick. I heard the announcement for the mandatory lifeboat drill, so I went back to my cabin to find Ramon waiting for me.

“You are in the YC, so you go first,” he said, and guided me to the stairs. I thought it was funny that he abbreviated Yacht Club as YC, but he got nervous until I smiled at him. It seemed that MSC didn’t want the staff to shorten the name of the super-prestigious Yacht Club.

“Are you always happy?” I heard Jason say from behind me. I slowed down so we could walk together.

“Hell no,” I said. “I was at a club on Friday night and some musclehead was trying to hit on me. I told him the roids had probably shrunk his cock down to a miniature size, then my friends and I laughed at him.”

“Girl, you are vicious,” he said, cracking me up.

“And you’re sweet and never piss anyone off?” I asked, staring at him so he could see that I had figured him out.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, cracking me up. “I’m glad I ran into you. Now when we’re together, we can tell everyone that we’re the Twinks.” He said it like we were a band. I laughed even harder at that.

“Twinks don’t always bottom,” I flirted.

“This one doesn’t, anyway,” he said.

“Neither does this one,” I said, although it had been a while since I’d topped. I was just fine with that. “Where’s your collar?” I asked.

“That was pretty over the top,” he said, then we laughed again.

“It was not; it was spot on,” I said.

“We’re not together anymore, so I asked him to give me my key back,” Jason said, and got sad when he did. I wanted to laugh hysterically that the slave collar was like a relationship bond, and by taking it off, it meant they’d broken up.

“You’ve got a whole cruise to work on things,” I said supportively.

“He told me not to unpack since he was going to get me my own cabin,” Jason said morosely, even as we plodded down the stairs. “Probably in the bowels of the ship.”

“You’re moving? You’re doing that?” I asked incredulously. He looked at me, confused. “Pussy.”

“Well then what should I have done?” he asked in a smart-ass way.

“As soon as we’re done with this fucking safety drill and we climb back up these 10 flights of stairs, you should go back to your cabin and unpack,” I said. “Only take up exactly half the space, or better, leave him more room.”

“Then I’ll have to pack up my shit all over again,” he grumbled.

“No, you won’t,” I said. We got our cards scanned then turned and walked out of the room, avoiding the safety lecture. We almost ran into Keller as we exited.

“Hey,” he said, as he pivoted to avoid slamming into me.

“Bro, I am on the right side and you’re not English,” I teased. “You’re in my lane.”

“I apologize,” he said, grinning at me, then frowned when he saw Jason. Other people wanted to get past us so he went in to get his card scanned while Jason and I headed to the stairs.

“This way,” Ramon said. He gently grabbed my arm and led Jason and me to an elevator. “I am sorry you hurt your foot, sir. This elevator is reserved for handicapped people, so it will take us to the 18^th floor.” He winked at me as he said this. What a sweet thing for him to do!

“Thank you, Ramon,” I said, then remembered to limp.

“You saw how he looked at me,” Jason said, referring to Keller. “There’s no way he’ll let me stay in his cabin.”

“It’s not his cabin,” I pointed out. “Your name is on the reservation, too. If he asks you to move, tell him you’re comfortable, and if he wants to avoid you, he can move.”

Jason laughed. “That might work. I don’t have much time. How can I unpack my stuff before he gets back?”

“I’ll help you out,” I said. “Ramon, we’re going to send a few of Jason’s things out to be ironed.”

“How do you know my stuff’s wrinkled?” he asked. This guy wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Something is,” I said in annoyance. “It’s even harder for anyone to try and move you when you already sent out some cleaning.”

Ramon nodded in approval. “I will help too.”

“That is so sweet of you,” I said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, making him blush so visibly it was noticeable on his brown skin. “While you’re doing that, I’ll stay here and intercept Keller.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, since he obviously wants to fuck you,” Jason said nastily.

“Bro, everyone wants to fuck me,” I said to him in a completely serious tone, then blew it by laughing. “You wanted an open relationship. That means he can fuck me.”

“You heard that?” he demanded.

“Duh,” I said. “So that’s the deal. You fucked Trent behind his back, then told him you wanted an open relationship, so that means that if the chance arrives, I can fuck him.”

“I guess,” he grumbled.

“You going to dick around or you going to unpack?” I demanded, since they were just standing in the hall and we didn’t have much time. They quickly went into Jason’s cabin to get to work. I stood in the hallway by my room, waiting for Keller to show up, or for Ramon to leave the room, indicating that the unpacking was done. Keller showed up first. “Hey!” I called pleasantly.

“Hi,” he said, and got ready to open the door to his cabin.

“Can you help me with something?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, then followed me into my cabin. I locked the door behind us so I was sure he could hear it click. “What did you need?”

“I have a number of needs,” I said in a sexy way, then smiled. “Can you help me cram this suitcase under the bed?”

“I can do that,” he said. It wasn’t a tough job, but he did it in a manly way that was a real turn on.

“Thanks,” I said, then stood in front of him. “I’m wondering if there’s some way I could pay you back?” I started to slowly lower myself to my knees, but he stopped me.

“It’s been an intense day,” he said. “Can I take a rain check?”

“Absolutely,” I said, then leaned in to kiss him. He kissed me back, but not too intensely. I shook my head at him, pissing him off. “You’re still into him.”

“Well, this just happened,” he said defensively.

“So you’re going to kick him out of your cabin to punish him for wanting to be with other people?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Tell me how you win in this deal? You’ll both be miserable.”

“I win when I get to come back here later and fuck you,” he said assertively, then gave me a kiss, a real kiss, with open mouths and tongues. It was a damn good kiss.

“See, then I get to win too,” I said. “Hopefully.” He frowned at that snarky word.

“When are you going to dinner?” he asked.

“Why?” I asked coyly.

“I was thinking you may enjoy some company,” he said.

“I’ll meet you in the dining room in one hour,” I said assertively.

“Don’t be late,” he replied. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.” He slapped me on the ass on his way out, which gave me something to focus on when I jacked off in the shower.

While the YC was pretty tony, the dress code in the dining room wasn’t that intense, but I still put on a nice pair of slacks and a blazer. I walked in and saw Keller at a table next to the windows. “Can I help you?” the maître d’ asked.

“I’m meeting someone,” I said, then headed over to greet Keller with a nice kiss. “You’re early.”

“I told you I hate it when people are late,” he said. “It’s rude, because it tells me that they don’t think my time is important.”

“Alright, well what if I had some horrible wardrobe problem and I was five minutes late?” I challenged. “You think that’s about you?”

“No,” he said, and frowned.

“You’re being pretty ‘main character’,” I teased, to which he shook his head.

The waiter came up to take our drinks order and as I was ordering some totally gay fruity drink, Jason came up. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said, before Keller could tell him to fuck off. He ordered the same thing that I did.

“You going to follow me everywhere I go?” Keller snapped at him. “It’s like you’re stalking me.”

“I’m not following you; I’m following Devon,” he said, then winked at me.

“I have so many admirers; maybe you can all form a conga line,” I joked.

“I’ll bet,” Keller said to me lustfully. I gave Jason props for not reacting to that at all. “So what happened to Roger?”

“His son plays lacrosse, and he won his game today, so that means he made it into the play-offs,” I said. “Roger wanted to go to his game and be supportive.”

“And you didn’t?” Jason asked.

“I sent his son Roderick a text congratulating him and wishing him luck,” I said. “We get along well.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t completely freak out on him,” Jason said.

“Like you would have,” Keller said in a snippy way. I hastily started speaking before they could get into a fight.

“Roger and I have been together for two years,” I explained. “We first hooked up in my last semester at Columbia. Our relationship has been based on us both taking care of each other.”

“You found a sugar daddy,” Keller joked. I gave him a steely look that shut him up, but he was saved from my razor-sharp tongue when our drinks arrived and we paused to order dinner.

“You make it sound like all I do is take from him, and if you asked him, he’d tell you that’s not how it is at all,” I insisted. “But yeah, he does a lot of nice things for me.”

“Like buying you that Gucci blazer?” Jason asked. I shrugged.

“I like to dress well; he likes that I look good, so he buys me clothes,” I said. “I’m a graphic designer, and when we first met, I was frantically looking for a job. Doors were slammed in my face, and I was getting really depressed. Roger made two phone calls, and I ended up getting a job on Madison Avenue.”

“So what do you do for him?” Jason asked in a slutty way, making me laugh.

“Anything he wants,” I said seductively, then paused to chuckle with him. “He has a high-stress job, and a bunch of family shit to deal with. I support him, prop him up, and give him mind-blowing orgasms.” Jason laughed with me at that, while Keller just smiled shyly.

“So why didn’t you get off the ship with him?” Jason challenged.

“First of all, he didn’t ask me to,” I said. “But the big reason is that this gives him a chance to spend some time with his son. That’s important to both of them.”

“You’re very mature for your age,” Keller said, which was a compliment to me and a slam at Jason.

“Thank you,” I said. “So what about you two? How did you meet?”

The waiter arrived, bringing appetizers, then we started eating. Jason stared at Keller, waiting for him to answer my question, then he shook his head in frustration. “I was working for Keller at the time. Even though he was my ultimate boss, I had a massive crush on him. He was working late, and I was ready to go home, but I saw his light on and went in to see if he wanted dinner.”

“I figured you were going to go get something and bring it to me, but you forced me to go out,” Keller said bitterly.

Jason ignored him. “So he took me out to dinner, and we talked about our lives, and the more we talked, the more connected I felt to him. I honestly thought I worked for the hottest man in town, but the more we got to know each other, the sexier he got.”

“You were so out, so gay, and so attractive, you just blew my mind,” Keller said, smiling at Jason as he remembered the good times.

“Among other things,” Jason said, making all of us laugh. “And you were pretty much in the closet, getting off with randos.”

“I was worried that if I was out and proud, I wouldn’t get the funding and backing I needed to get my company to the next level,” he said. “You came along at the perfect time. I’d just gotten my last tranche of cash, and we were on a roll.”

“And you’d proven yourself, so it was tougher to write you off,” Jason said. “We dated for a month then I basically moved into your house.”

“You did,” Keller said, smiling now as he remembered those good times. “And after six months, I told you that you couldn’t work for me and fired you.”

“You helped me get a different job, and made sure I had everything that I wanted,” Jason said lovingly.

“Yeah, everything except I can’t make you happy in bed,” Keller said bitterly. “How long have you been seeing Trent?”

“For three months,” Jason said. “I thought it would make you happy.”

“You fucking around behind my back would make me happy?” Keller asked a little too loudly. The waiter chose that moment to bring our main courses. After he left and we started eating, Jason explained.

“I really get into BDSM,” Jason said to me, and it was so sad that he seemed ashamed of it. “I know you don’t really like it.” He directed that sentence to Keller.

“It’s not that I don’t like it; it’s that I don’t like it all the time,” Keller said.

“That’s why I thought me being with Trent would make you happy,” Jason said. “He could satisfy that part of me, and then when I’m with you we could have sex like we both want it to be.”

“I really don’t mind doing that,” Keller said, referring to BDSM play, but it was so forced he made me chuckle. “What?” he demanded of me.

“Excuse me?” I asked him frostily. “Don’t you even get attitude with me. I am not a sub at all.” Jason chuckled at me in full bitch mode.

“I’m sorry,” Keller said. “So why did you laugh at me?”

“Don’t be so fucking sensitive,” I snapped at him, then calmed myself down. “It was clear from the way you said that; you don’t like BDSM play at all.”

“That’s not it…”

I cut him off. “Crystal clear.” He said nothing, just looked guilty. “You want my read on this?”

“I don’t know, do I?” Keller asked.

“You do,” I said with playful confidence. “Jason is right. This deal with Trent is good for him, and it’s good for you. The biggest thing I’d be worried about if I was in your situation is that he’d end up hooking up with someone who wasn’t a real dom and instead ended up with someone who was just mean and dangerous.” His eyes shot open in alarm, then mellowed.

“That’s a little scary,” he said to Jason.

“What’s your safe word?” I asked Jason. Keller looked confused. “That’s the word you say that stops things. It means that you’re uncomfortable with something, and your partner is supposed to give you back control.”

“Trump,” Jason said, and the three of us laughed so loudly that the other diners looked at us in annoyance.

“That is perfect,” I agreed. It was hard to imagine a word that would do more to kill an erection. “Didn’t you two have a safe word?”

“No,” Keller said. That meant that he and Jason hadn’t had a truly intense BDSM experience. I could see why Jason would want someone else to take him to nirvana once in a while.

“Have you ever had to use your safe word?” I asked Jason, referring to him and Trent.

“Twice,” he said, but didn’t offer any details. “And he did just what you said he should do.”

“So back to my advice,” I said to Keller, then realized why I wasn’t getting through to him. “This has nothing to do with you being shitty in bed.”

“That is definitely not the issue,” Jason said, smiling at Keller, who blushed adorably.

“Plus I don’t think you’re looking at this right,” I said. Keller looked at me with a question mark on his face. “If you have this open relationship, then you are a free man too.”

“I really don’t want to be a free man,” he said. At that point, I finally got to the core issue.

“Why are you too afraid to tell him you love him?” I asked Keller as I gestured toward Jason.

“That’s not it at all!” he said, much too defensively. He was really agitated, because I’d nailed it, and Jason had picked up on it too. I changed directions to give him time to tackle this revelation internally for a bit.

“While I think that Jason was trying to make things better for both of you, he fucked up big time,” I said.

“And how did I do that?” Jason asked, all pissed off.

“Because you cheated on him,” I said. “You opened up the relationship without talking to him about it. So for the six months you’ve been with Trent, you were cheating.”

“It wasn’t six months,” Jason said.

“And it wasn’t three either,” I snapped back. “He has every right to be pissed off about that.”

Jason looked at both of us defiantly, then mellowed. “He does.” He looked at Keller and spoke sincerely. “I fucked this all up. I should have talked to you about all of this. I am sorry.”

“Thanks,” Keller said, but he didn’t forgive Jason. Yet.

“I have a suggestion for both of you,” I said, then focused on Jason. “I think that you should take Keller with you and let him watch what Trent does to you. Maybe Keller can even join in after a couple of times.”

“Would you be down for that?” Jason asked Keller.

Keller thought about it for a bit, then smiled. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“So if you guys have this open deal, that means you can fuck me,” I said to Keller. He almost panicked, while Jason and I started laughing again. “He really does love you,” I said to Jason.

“If he ever tells me, he’d probably find out that I feel the same way,” Jason answered.

“Let’s go back to the cabin and finish unpacking,” Keller said. I smiled at them as they left, then decided to go shopping before I got too lonely.

 

Day 2: Monday: At Sea

I met Keller and Jason for dinner, just like I had last night. “What did you do all day?” Keller asked me pleasantly.

“I went to the gym, blew a hot guy in the sauna, then went to the thermal suite and steamed. Had an amazing massage, then laid in the sun for a couple of hours,” I said. “I got ready for dinner, went to the LGBTQ meet-and-greet, did a little shopping, then met you here.”

“Sounds high stress,” Jason said sarcastically.

“What did you do?” I asked him.

“Fucked,” he said, cracking me up and making Keller blush.

“Now I’m jealous,” I said.

“Were there any hot guys at the meet?” Jason asked.

“A couple, but they’re kind of goombahs,” I said. That confused him so I tried to explain my definition of that term. “Blue-collar muscleheads from Jersey.” Jason laughed. Part of me was happy for them because they truly did love each other, and part of me was sad because that was something I didn’t have with Roger, and probably never would. Saying ‘I love you’ wasn’t part of our relationship.

We finished dinner, and they went back to their cabin while I went to the club. They had better luck than I did.

 

Day 3: Tuesday: Port Canaveral (Orlando), Florida

I was laying out at the YC pool, tossing back piña coladas like I was in a race, when Jason came over and sat down in the chair next to me. “Hey there!” he said.

“I didn’t know you were staying on board,” I said. I flagged our waiter down so Jason could order a drink.

“The last thing I need to do is ride in a bus to Disney World with a bunch of screaming kids,” Jason said with disdain. I laughed, because it was funny, and because I was kind of drunk.

“That does sound like hell,” I agreed.

“So how did your night go?” he asked, referring to my clubbing.

“Horrible,” I said, shaking my head.

“OK, spill the tea,” he said.

“So I’m dancing with one of those Jersey hunks. He’s attractive and he dances well, so we go out onto the deck and start making out,” I said.

“Sounds good so far,” Jason said.

“We made out for a bit, then he starts kissing me, like these little pecks on my face, and my neck,” I said, scrunching my mouth up as I remembered.

“What’s wrong with that?” Jason asked.

“Well, since my vision was that he’d throat fuck me then pound my ass, gentle kisses on my face and neck were a bit of a letdown,” I said. Jason and I laughed some more at that. “He told me he wanted to go back to my cabin, take off my clothes, and kiss me all over.”

“Bro, that sounds creepy,” he said.

“No shit,” I agreed. “You ever read gay stories?”

“What, like novels?” he asked.

“Yeah, or stories,” I said. “Go to gayauthors.org and check it out. There are some really good reads there.”

“Okay,” he said skeptically.

“Anyway, if you read a gay book, you can always tell if it’s written by a female author,” I explained. “Women don’t usually write graphic sex scenes, and when they do, they’re all romantic, with the guys kissing, then stopping to gaze into each other’s eyes, giggling, and then kissing again.”

“So there’s no throat fucking and ass pounding?” he asked, making me laugh so hard that piña colada came out of my nose.

“No, there’s not,” I said. “Looks like that won’t happen on board this ship.”

“I think it could,” he said suggestively.

“Bro, I do not want to mess you two up,” I said earnestly, thinking he was offering to sleep with me. “You seem to be doing really well.”

“We are, but I mean, I don’t know if you’d be up for it, but if you are…” he said nervously. He didn’t know me well enough to know that there wasn’t much I hadn’t done sexually, and I was pretty flexible about opportunities that came my way. I just stared at him until I finally figured out what he wanted to ask me.

“You want to have a threesome?” I asked. He nodded nervously. “I’m down.”

Jason laughed again. “Keller has never done that, and I know he finds you attractive. I want his first time to be fun.”

“So when you take him to see Trent, he’s not freaked out about there being three people, at least?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “So help me out and I promise you a good ass pounding. We walked down to our deck, laughing our asses off.

 

Day 4: Wednesday: Nassau, Bahamas

“Bro, that place was awesome,” Jason said as we rode in a shuttle bus back to the ship. We’d gone to Atlantis and spent the day tackling their Rapids River, the water slides, and lounging around. Once again, our YC status helped a lot. We’d been led straight to the disembarkation area by Ramon and merged into the front of the line of people waiting to leave. I liked the finer things in life, but that was a little too much elitism for me. It was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. When we got back, the reverse happened, as the most forward entry was for the YC only, while the commoners had to go to the crowded aft entrance. Somehow that didn't feel quite as bad. I tried to figure out why until I managed to solve the riddle. When we got to go to the front, it was like cutting in line, and that was totally rude. When we had our own area, or we had our own entry port, that didn’t bother me at all, because we weren’t basically pushing ourselves in front of everyone else. A little separation was nice; being an asshole wasn’t.

They went back to their cabin while I stopped at the thermal suite to rinse off and steam. I’d had a lot of fun with them yesterday. Jason and I had clearly had threesomes before, so we drove the action. Keller was uncomfortable at first, then he really got into it. I’d spent about three hours with them, but after that I felt kind of like an appendage. That vibe mostly came from Keller, and it was sweet because it just showed how much he enjoyed being alone with Jason. It was like playtime was over, and it was time for me to go, so I did.

Today things were a little weird. Keller and I hardly interacted at all: it was him talking to Jason or me talking to Jason. I felt a little bit like a third wheel. I’d gone down to the beach at Atlantis all by myself and pondered life, and decided that the reason I was feeling a little lost was because I missed Roger. I missed how much more cultured and educated he was than anyone else I’d met on this boat. I missed how classy he looked and acted, and how that rubbed off on me and made me seem like a more sophisticated person. I missed our calm conversations that were so much deeper than anything I’d ever experienced before, and I missed the laughter and playfulness that I injected into the relationship and how well he responded. I missed Roger the person, the man who took care of me, and not just by buying me shit, but by trying to do things just to make me happy. I missed being with him so I could do the same thing for him. I chuckled when I thought about those neck rubs I gave him that usually ended up with me having his dick in my ass.

We got off the bus and I opted to walk back by myself since they wanted to do a little shopping. I let my mind wander back to Roger. I had given Keller a ration of crap about not telling Jason he loved him, but if he’d known my situation, he could have thrown that right back in my face. Roger and I had never said those words to each other. For me, it was because of the commitment it implied. We had an open relationship, but I could count on one hand the number of guys I’d fucked each year. But the thought of taking things to that level and losing my freedom was my equivalent of a claustrophobic person being locked in a closet.

I knew that for Roger, it was more about fear. He was worried that saying those three words would change us. I knew he was happy with me, and he didn’t want to fuck it up. That was really flattering, but it also put it onto my shoulders. I didn’t see him being brave enough to tackle what was next for us. I’d probably have to do that myself.

I got back to my cabin in a melancholy mood and found an envelope on the table with the basket of fruit Ramon had left. What was even more surprising were the contents: a note from the captain inviting me to dine with him at the Butcher’s Cut restaurant at 7:30pm. The Butcher’s Cut was supposed to be one of the best steakhouses afloat and was an extra cost option. I wondered how I’d ended up at the captain’s table. I wasn’t anyone important. I snickered, thinking that maybe he’d spotted me on the ship and decided I was so hot he had to ask me out. I enjoyed that fantasy for a bit, then I looked at the daily bulletin and saw that this was formal night, so I decided to wear my tux, or my dinner jacket, as Roger would say.

I called the spa and was lucky enough to squeeze in for a shave and a facial, getting back with barely enough time to shower and get ready. I walked out of my cabin to find Ramon there, looking at a clipboard. “Good evening, Mr. Devon,” he said. “You look very good.”

“Evening, Ramon,” I said, then lowered my voice to be more seductive. “You look good too.” He laughed with me and shook his head.

I rode the elevator down to deck seven and strolled down the Main Gallery that was two decks tall, looking up at the ceiling. This was one of the coolest areas of the ship. It consisted of seamlessly connected LED screens, and they could show all kinds of things on there, including movies. Tonight was the ‘ceilings’ night, where they’d put up a historic ceiling and let us guess which one it was. I’d gotten there just in time for the Blue Mosque in Istanbul.

The host at the Butcher’s Cut greeted me and asked my name. He smiled a bit bigger when I told him, which seemed very strange. He led me over to a table where there was a fake candle and a single red rose in a vase. I looked up and saw Roger standing there, smiling at me. I all but lunged at him, hugging him so tightly it was like I was a python. “I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” I said. I actually had to wipe a tear out of my eye, then we both took our seats. There was no ordering required: Roger had already arranged everything, and that things were so perfect was a sign of how well he knew me. “Why are you here?”

“You don’t want me here?” he teased. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Did Roderick’s team lose?” I asked with concern.

“No, they didn’t,” he said. “I talked to him after they won yesterday, and told him how we were supposed to go on this cruise together and how much I missed you. He told me to go.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really,” he said. “He told me that I wasn’t welcome at his games until Sunday, when the cruise gets back.”

“What an awesome guy!” I said. He really was. I was so glad I got along well with both of his kids. “What did Margaret say?”

He frowned. “I got the usual guilt trip. She told me that Roderick was just saying that but he didn’t mean it, and that he really wanted me to be there.”

“What a bunch of shit,” I said. She was such a needy bitch.

“It is, and I finally realized that. When she tosses crap at me and claims my kids are upset about something, I now know that means nothing. I need to have my relationships with them directly, not through her,” he said firmly, like a man who had just overcome an addiction.

“No wonder you’re so happy,” I said, since he was.

“That’s not why I’m so happy,” he said. “I’m happy because I’m here with you.”

“Aww,” I said. I decided to grab the bull by the horn. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said nervously.

“I’m worried it will freak you out, and that it will change things,” I said, although it was more of a whine.

“Dev, just tell me what you want to say,” he said firmly.

I swallowed hard. “I love you.”

“You do?” he asked, and seemed shocked.

“I do,” I said, and did so as firmly as if I was saying my vows in a church. I had hoped that he would respond and say the words back to me, but I looked into his eyes and all I saw was a computer looping, with an error message on the screen. I was devastated.

“How would that change things between us?” he asked. I stared at him, my heart sinking. I’d taken the risk and I’d thrown my feelings on the table. He’d all but vomited on them.

“Never mind,” I said. I looked at my chest, expecting to see blood flooding my white shirt, spewing out of my broken heart. I felt myself coming apart: there was no way I could stay here. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going back to the cabin.” I stood up and started to leave.

“Dev, I love you too,” he said. I turned around and stared at him and saw that he meant it. The pain vanished, although the annoyance at being hurt so badly did not. “Please stay.” His tone was one of desperation, and that was enough for me to re-attach my ass to my chair.

“That was incredibly painful,” I said to him in about the nastiest way that I could.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You know me. I need to process things. I don’t always react well until I do.” He did do that, especially about things that were really big issues.

“I just had an epiphany about that on this trip, and realized I needed to be the one to broach the subject,” I said.

“I never thought you’d say that to me,” he said.

“Really?” I asked, confused. “Why not?”

“Because it would imply more of a commitment than you really wanted,” he said. It was both irritating and cute that he had me so figured out. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“I guess you’re right,” I agreed. “Plus it doesn’t matter. I love you, and I can’t stop it anyway.”

“I don’t want to change our relationship at all,” he said. “It works for me completely.”

“I don’t either, but I just wanted you to know how I felt,” I said.

“Devon, from the moment I met you, you have brought joy to my life. I love your joie de vivre, and the way you make me feel so young. I love how thoughtful you are, and how well you know me. I love how you listen to me, or at least pretend to,” he said, giving me a knowing look.

“Most of the time, I listen,” I said.

“I love how you look, how you move, how you speak,” he said. My eyes started to water at his sentiments, but at the same time I couldn’t help but internally roll my eyes at how lawyers had to speak interminably. “I love having sex with you.”

“I love having sex with you too,” I said, and opted to stroke his ego in the best place possible. “While I was sitting here on this ship, all alone…”

“You were hardly alone,” he said, being technical. “There are 6000 or so people on this ship.”

“Virtually alone,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. He smiled to tell me he was giving me shit. God he was scrumptious. “I thought about how you always satisfy me. I have never been with a lover as good as you.”

“Really?” he asked excitedly. I wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but close enough.

“Really,” I answered. “And on those times when I’m horny and you’re not, you still take care of me.”

“One of my favorite things to do,” he said, his voice deep and sexy.

“Mine too,” I said.

“You think we’re strong enough, our relationship is strong enough, that it would survive us getting married?” he asked me. His nervous smile told me this was no hypothetical question, and that just blew my mind. Normally I would have been effusive in telling him how exciting that was, but I was still wounded from the first part of our conversation, so this time I took no risks.

“I think it possibly could,” I said evasively.

“If I ask you to marry me, are you going to freak out and run out that door?” he asked. He was actually serious about this?

“No,” I said, smiling at him.

He stood up, then got down on his knee and took my hand. His face was positioned right in front of my crotch so I pretended to start to lower my zipper, and his response was to smile slightly and shake his head. “Devon Coombe, will you marry me?” he asked. I grinned so big my face was probably ready to explode.

“Yes, Roger Falstaff, I will marry you,” I answered.

I knew that this was a big step, and I was majorly excited about it, but I couldn’t help but believe that part of this proposal was his epiphany about Margaret. By marrying me, he could not remarry her, and her dream would finally be dead. At the same time, I had my own hidden agenda. Being Roger’s husband would give me much more status. Whenever we went out, I could sense the hidden sneers of people who saw me as nothing more than a good piece of ass. Now I’d be his spouse, as well as being a good fuck. I guess that’s how life was for women most of the time.

I pondered how that was like this whole Yacht Club experience. My thoughts on how Roger and I both had our own agendas was the unsavory part, just like cutting in front of people. But the rest of it, how good we were together, was like the cooler part of the YC: the separate pool and dining room, the amazing butler, and even the Swarovski staircase. But in the end, those were just trivialities. I loved Roger, he loved me, and we were good together. That was enough.