Seven Days Aboard

"Shit! Sunscreen!" Adrian exclaimed. We all jolted up. The circumstances had been so weird that none of us had thought to lotion up! We all looked at each other like we had just been narrowly missed by a bus. We were out here with the blazing sun slamming down onto our completely untanned breasts! Sunscreen would have been a vacation-ruining omission.

Aaaaand that's how I found myself massaging my naked tits in front of a boat-full of horny dudes. If I had felt irritated before that we weren't getting enough leering glances from the guys in our area of the Top Deck, the four of us rubbing suntan lotion into our own boobs, followed by each other's backs, put an end to that. And replaced it with irritation at being stared at.

"Show's over, assholes," I grumbled as Sophia finished getting between my shoulder blades, and I settled back to get into my book. Paperbacks, it turns out, are singularly insufficient to cover up a set of tits, even pairs like Kimmie's or Sophia's, much less ones like mine. I finally just brazened it out and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary.

What I could not believe was, most everybody up there acted no different in how they looked and talked to each other than was my experience at any normal beach or poolside in sensible, prudish America. And the sun and open air felt amazing on skin that had never experienced them before.

I still hadn't read a full chapter when I realized that I needed a drink. Adrenaline had burned off that Kamikaze from earlier, and I was thirsty besides. I sat up, grabbed my ShipCard, which was room key and charge card in one, and addressed my friends. "Drink run. Who wants something?"

Three ShipCards were eagerly thrust my way, and I was tasked with retrieving three Banana Daiquiris--four, if you counted my own. I was all the way across the deck and mixing into the crowd waiting at the bar before I realized that I had forgotten to put my top back on. Now I was standing in a boisterous crowd with my boobs exposed.

I was embarrassed all over again, in addition to thirsty, and the line was not moving fast.

I had never been around so many bare tits in my life, and I had been on several varsity sports in high school, with the showers to prove it. Moreover, I sure had never been around naked boobs in public, with guys everywhere... with one exception.

Ever tried standing in a slow-moving line at a bar without touching the people around you? Impossible, right? I tried anyway, which was unfortunate.

The girl in front of me was chatting with about every guy around her, and laughing a lot in a very annoying bray. She was getting plenty of attention, despite sporting a rack that paled in comparison to mine. That catty thought yanked me up short. Apparently, deer-in-the-headlights paralysis was not an attractive look in a young lady like me. Guys really do like a woman who laughs at everything they say.

Fortunately, right? I wasn't looking for attention, and I really wasn't getting much.

But some more would have been... affirming.

Then Horse Laugh Girl backed up suddenly to make way for a guy holding five beers precariously over his head. I jerked backward to avoid her, and thudded into a meaty wall behind me. I turned automatically to apologize, just as the dude I'd hit was doing the same to apologize to me, the girl who had just splatted against his immovable back. I found myself staring up at a handsome Mediterranean-looking guy whose home address must have been a Planet Fitness.

He flashed a dazzling smile that would have seemed charming if he wasn't involuntarily (I hoped) eye-fucking my brains out the second he laid eyes on my naked torso.

"I am... so sorry to have gotten in your way, seniorita," he said, in a voice that was in no way devastated.

"I'm the one who bumped into you," I automatically demurred. "Sorry, but I was getting out of the way of someone fortunate enough to have already gotten their drinks."

"The line is long," he sympathized, in a momentarily genuine voice. "But no matter," he went on, back to eye-fucking me. "I will at least try to make sure you are not run over from my direction." With that, he somehow swelled up to an even larger size and indeed made a convincing impression of a concrete wall.

A very handsome, muscular, concrete wall.

This guy was exactly what I did not need. I thanked him and turned around, as if to watch out for my unprotected side, but mostly to stop staring at him. I was absolutely not in the market for a fling with some random fellow passenger, no matter how gorgeous, and if I kept facing his way, I'd be eye-fucking him back... which would give him ideas he should not have.

"Good idea. Keep your eyes on your unprotected side," he said, unfazed by my turn away. "So you are an American?" he asked. Yes, Captain Obvious. "My name is Raphael. I am from Madrid. This voyage is only my second time visiting your half of the planet."

"We are fortunate to have you," I replied over my shoulder, then turned back away and winced at myself. It had been four months since I'd spent much time in friendly, non-work conversation with a good-looking guy. The flirt had just slipped out. An opening appeared at the bar, and I lunged into the narrow space, and away from my statuesque friend. Turning away from him had done nothing to escape the eye-fucking. I could just feel his gaze on my ass.

"Good catch there," he said, having moved easily forward behind me.

"I like to be aggressive when an opportunity presents," I drawled.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. I yelled inwardly at myself.

Honestly, he wasn't even really my type, gorgeous as he was. I genuinely was not vibing on him. But I do like to think that I have some game with guys, and after my dry spell, I guess it just slipped into gear. I think I might have just rolled with it and flirted on, despite not being interested, and not being in the market, just for the practice... if I had not been fucking topless... in public... in a crowd.

Fortunately, all the bartenders were male, and with my back turned resolutely to Raphael, that meant my tits were aimed directly behind the bar. I am not so modest as to pretend that that did not have anything to do with the way I was served way ahead of my turn.

I may have been desperate enough to escape my delicious admirer that I had been pointing my naked tits rather aggressively at the short Philippino who ended up gravitating my way.

Great, I was manipulating men with my naked tits now. I was a stripper.

But I got my drinks in record time, and I slipped away from the bar as fast as I could. And damned if I wasn't a little self-satisfied about my apparent super-power. My instinctual politeness made me speak one last time to Raphael though, before I could stop myself. "Thanks for the body guarding. See you later!"

See you later? No. No. No!

I returned to much acclaim from my thirsty friends, and we toasted happily.

Ten minutes of happy conversation among us, during which I largely managed to forget that I was not wearing a top, ended with me being convinced to join them on the Jolly Roger Pirate Rum Voyage the next day in Barbados. I was not sure what the hell that was going to be, other than another eighty bucks in expenses for this vacation, but I was able to extract sworn testimony that it was not a topless excursion, so there was that.

Having been forced to make an actual plan to mar my desired free-form vacation, I settled back with my book. Half a daiquiri and two chapters later, I was starting to really enjoy myself, despite the expectation that Raphael would show up in response to my invitation and stare at my tits some more. I considered rolling over onto my belly to read, in case he showed up. But he'd just eyeball my backside if I tried that. At least, if he was staring at my tits, I would be able to stare back.

It had to be the book, right? No, I thought as I looked down at my bare breasts, nipples more than half erect. Sitting around topless was supposed to make the guys horny, not me, wasn't it?

I eventually started to get a little offended that Raphael had not sought me out when, with perfect lateness, here he came. He had a buddy with him, who was shorter, leaner, hairier, but just as suave and handsome.

"Ah, we meet again," he said, waving as they approached. "This is my friend, Juan."

"Nice to meet you, Juan," I said. Then, realizing evilly that Raphael still did not know my name, I let him remain ignorant and waved at my friends, "These are my friends, Sophia, Adrian, and Kimmie. Girls, this is Raphael, my guardian in the drink line, and his friend Juan." My friends were more enthused at the company than I was, which suited me to a T.

Conversation ensued. I found myself equal parts amused and, dammit all, irritated that the two men's attention was spread equally among us. Even my buddy Raphael's ocular intercourse was being put to each of my friends in the same measure as to me.

I thought we had something special, Raphael!

I thumbed my nose at myself inwardly.

This was indeed a perfect opportunity to escape this display case for tits. "I don't know about you guys," I inserted at the first conversational pause, "but I am too nervous to trust this sunscreen. I'm going to get out of the glare."

I went to put on my top, and discovered that tits that are about to disappear from view are apparently even more compelling to the male gaze. I'll admit it. I basked very briefly in the attention I was suddenly monopolizing as I worked my girls back into the bikini top.

"And just to prove that I am capable of making plans in advance on my own this trip, I will tell you that I plan on doing the three o'clock music trivia in that Porthole bar that I saw advertised earlier," I said in parting. I waved to Raphael and Juan, whose gaze had spread back out once I was no longer topless, and slid away.

My friends seemed quite unconcerned about escaping either the Sun's rays, or the Spaniards' gaze, or the gaze of anyone else up on the Top Deck as I departed. Good for them. They were all looking to get laid. I was not.

A shower, a delicious lunch, and another few chapters of my book got me to two-thirty. I put the smut away, and headed to the Porthole, just in case there was a crowd lined up to do a trivia contest in a dark bar in the middle of a glorious day in the southern Caribbean. The bar was nearly deserted when I arrived.

I grabbed a table to the side, and got an answer sheet from the remarkably homely assistant cruise director with the hyper-pert friendly attitude, who was running the contest. To my surprise, a fair number of people started showing up. I let myself get talked into a glass of champagne by the same bartender as earlier. I did have the unlimited drink package, after all.

With five minutes before the start, I looked up to see my Line Guy, Dale standing over me. He smiled a little shyly and asked where my trivia team was.

"Coming... allegedly," I said before I could stop myself. I didn't need to sound catty. I really did not need to be catty.

"Need a teammate, then?" he asked, remaining respectfully standing. "I was wanting to kill some time, and I know I'll suck on my own, but maybe I can help you a little."

"I'd love a teammate," I found myself saying.

Daisy! You can turn off the flirting, you know.

"I'm sure that between us, we can suck twice as badly as apart," I chuckled. Dale slid into the chair next to me and looked around.

The bartender appeared again in suspiciously quick time. I surmised that Dale had already managed to establish himself to my friend as a very good tipper. He received his Stella Artois before the game even began.

We did, indeed suck, but not badly enough to lose. We high-fived as we received our cruise line keychains.

"That was fun," Dale said, as we turned to polish off our drinks. "Uh," he said slowly. "There is Harry Potter trivia tomorrow at five, when the ship is casting off. Want to...?" He trailed off as if almost reconsidering.

"Sure," I said, not wanting him to feel uncertain. And not wanting him to retract the offer. "I can use a beer koozy to go along with this sweet keychain."

We chuckled at my feeble joke, and parted ways. It was nice to just have somebody new to talk with. I loved my girls, but their relentless dick-chasing was going to get old on this trip. I could have simply befriended a bartender or two, but I felt like my liver would prefer I find a fellow passenger or three to spend my non-buddy time with.

*

I returned to our cabin after trivia, and got started getting ready for dinner. This evening was the first Formal Night on board, and I was honestly excited to get dolled up. I will never get too old to play dress-up--it is just that the game gets more expensive, the older I get.

My dress for the first night, for instance, was an 800 dollar dress-up prop. I was steaming out any wrinkles when Kimmie came back to the cabin.

"Hey Daisy," she exclaimed, almost tentatively.

"Uh, oh," I said immediately. "What's up, Kim?" I set aside the steamer and sat down in my underwear to put on a bit more makeup than normal. I didn't look at her.

"You aren't going to get mad if I meet back up with Raphael after dinner, are you?" she asked, actually sounding concerned. My friend was a possibly excessively promiscuous person, but I knew that she would never get in another girl's way.

"Please do," I snorted, pondering how much eye makeup I was going to employ. "You know I am trying to focus on finding the man back home, rather than just a man. I feel like you will have fun with enough guys for both of us on this cruise."

"I don't know," Kimmie said innocently. "Raphael is awfully dreamy."

While the man was probably going to enjoy this evening... um... to the fullest, if Raphael made it to tomorrow morning as Kimmie's focus, I'd eat my hat. There were too many hot dudes on this boat that my buddy would never have to see again for her to stick too long with any single one.

As I said, I seldom use much makeup, but I was committed to going all in that night, and by the time I had satisfied myself with my face, Kimmie was already shimmying into her dress. It was a classic, mid-thigh length, long-sleeved, scoop-necked, little black dress. Except, it was red, with gold threads shot through the fabric which made it sparkle brightly without a single sequin.

"Damn, girl," I said, impressed. "You clean up well."

"Let's see after I do my hair," she fretted.

I stood up and smiled at her, my own hair and makeup complete. "How about me?"

"You are fucking gorgeous," Kimmie laughed. "You seriously are so freaking pretty, Daze." She snorted, "And for someone not intent on stripping down with anyone, that is some pretty goddamned sexy underwear you have!"

I blushed, standing there in my black lace bra and high-waisted thong. I had shaved my legs glass smooth, so I had no stockings. "These are for me, and my own ego," I said defensively. "If I were intent on getting laid tonight, I might just omit the underwear... like you have."

"Touché," Kimmie admitted. She was going to need to be careful with that skirt hem, or she would be advertising that lack of underwear rather directly. Or maybe she was intending to do that advertising...

My own dress was emerald green, like my eyes, and ankle-length. I had had to choose the bra carefully to find one that barely there enough to not show up in the wide and deep cleavage the dress revealed. And the thong had to rest far up on my hips to stay out of sight, due to the slit that ran up the left leg--way, way up the left leg.

"Zip me up?" I asked Kimmie.

"Damn, that is a fucking red carpet dress, Daisy," Kimmie said, staring at me for a long second before moving around to tug the zipper past the mid-point of my back. "Guys are going to be all over you."

"I'm not looking for guys to be all over me," I said automatically.

"Well then, I'll help you change your dress."

"No way," I snorted, looking at myself in the mirror again. "I just haven't been feeling that sexy lately, and when I saw this dress, I realized it might do the trick."

"Mission accomplished," Kimmie said, with something akin to jealousy in her voice. That was for the dress, not my looks. Kimmie looked like a million bucks. "But come on Daisy! A guy in your life, or at least in your bed here or there, would fix that lack of sexiness feeling cheaper than a thousand dollar dress."

"It wasn't a thousand dollars, and you know when it comes to sex, I'm looking for a relationship right now, not an ego boost."

"If guys drooling over you is the boost you need, didn't the Top Deck do the trick yesterday?"

"Walking around with my tits out?" I snapped. "I didn't know what to think," I added, almost introspectively.

"Adrian says she can't do it again, can you believe it?" Kimmie said, trying to stuff too many things in the little clutch she was bringing to dinner.

"Again?" I almost yelped. The idea of going up there again had not entered my mind.

"Fuck yeah," Kimmie grinned. "I loved it, didn't you? Once I got used to it, I mean. I may need to find a place to do it somehow back in Dallas. It was hot and you know it."

I rolled my eyes. I was with Adrian.

Wasn't I?

"The only problem with this dress is, it is too long," I said, going to the closet. "To keep it from dragging, I have to wear these shoes!"

Kimmie laughed at my predicament as I slid on the black, four inch heeled pumps with the one inch platform under the ball of the foot. Any other shoes and the dress would have dragged.

"Not only are you sex personified in that dress," Kimie said admiringly, "you are sex on stilts."

I waved her off. But I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with my look. I had hoped for attractive elegance, but now that I was all done up, I really was beginning to feel a bit more out there than I had intended. I looked at the slit, which hung a tiny bit open, even when I was just standing straight, and felt some of the same tremors I had on the Top Deck. Worse, I didn't hate them. I wasn't sure yet whether I liked them that much, but I definitely didn't hate them.

Kimmie laughed out loud at me when I produced a small roll of gaffer's tape to ensure the neckline wouldn't slip open or over and reveal that I did have a bra underneath the dress. "What?" I smiled, letting my inner vamp out for a minute. "I didn't spend that much time finding underwear that doesn't show in this thing to have it slip, and ruin the illusion that I'm naked under here."

We laughed and left arm in arm to go to dinner and break men's hearts.

Well, I was going to break hearts. Kimmie was likely going to go and fulfill some hearts' desires...

*

As we moved through the ship, I saw that about a quarter of the people on board were half-hearted at best about dressing up, with women in just a nice dress, and men maybe sporting a jacket. Another quarter were adamant in not dressing up at all on their vacation. Leaving half of us who had put some work into putting on the Ritz. It was fun.

We stopped on the deck above the dining room to look at the artwork being displayed for sale there. Most of it was dreck (I have an Art History minor), but there were a few pieces I genuinely liked. They were out of my price range by a mile, but I liked them.

"Hey, we are already a couple minutes late for dinner," I exclaimed when I looked at my watch.

"Duh. How are were we supposed to Make An Entrance, if we aren't a couple of minutes late?" Kimmie asked.

But I hustled her on to dinner. Wearing that dress in public was feeling a lot... breezier than I had anticipated and I wanted a drink.

Most of the people who had refused to dress up had also decided not to eat in the main dining room, so the space was a mass of suits and glittering dresses. We did get some appreciative glances as we wended our way to our table, but we were hardly the center of attention, to Kimmie's frustration.