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The last of Fleming's Bond stories were collected posthumously in the collection Octopussy and the Living Daylights. Shane and Andrew dig into the final tales, discover the truth about Bond's sexuality, and review their ratings of all the Bond books. Donate to Trans Lifeline: https://translifeline.org/donate/ Donate to LA Wildfire support: https://www.calfund.org/ Buy us a Faberge egg: https://www.faberge.com/products/limited-edition-guilloche-enamel-octopussy-egg-objet-3646

Strangers forced to share a cabin on a cruise ship. By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.  The waiting area outside the Long Beach cruise terminal was abuzz with bright new outfits and happy chatter. It was enough to make even the most reserved introvert start to feel a bit of excitement. I was standing with Jack and Ciara, two regulars of the social group. Jack was tall and rugged, something to do with landscaping; Ciara tall and willowy, worked in an office of some sort. They weren't an official couple, as far as I knew, but they seemed to have hooked up for the New Year's Pacific cruise. That was sort of the way the group worked. Thirty somethings, mostly divorced, intent on maintaining the hard playing lifestyle of their twenties, looking for like-minded dating partners to do it with. Jack was explaining the different cruise drink payment plans. I smiled politely and nodded, thinking how different from theirs my life would be when I got to be their age. Denise bustled up in a pretty pastel pantsuit with her clipboard in her hand. She was a travel agent and the mother hen of the group, forty-something and no longer trying so hard to pretend she was any younger. She'd put together this group and made a nice extra income for her troubles. "Hector," she said, ushering me a step aside, "I'm afraid there's been a mix up with your reservation. Somehow your single cabin didn't show up on the final printout." She gave me a concerned look. "They're working on it,,  but we may have to double you up with someone." This came as a bit of a rude surprise. One of the only reasons I'd finally agreed to come on the cruise in the first place had been her assurance that I'd be able to have a single. It wasn't that I was antisocial really, but I had my limits. "You know Mrs. Pendergast, don't you?" Mrs. Pendergast was an older woman, well into her sixties. She wasn't a regular member of the group, but it amused her sometimes to hang with a younger crowd. The group let her tag along to some of their events. I was going to have to share a room with Mrs. Pendergast? "Apparently she got sick and had to cancel at the last minute. So we have an opening. She was sharing a room with, ah;" she double checked her forms; "a Ms. Crenshaw. I don't know her, but I'm sure she's very nice. It's a double room, and you know how it is on a cruise. You don't spend that much time in your room anyway." I didn't even try to return her smile. "They're still working on your single, of course. I just wanted to let you know the fallback plan." Not only losing my single, but having to spend the cruise being polite to an old lady? In Denise's mind, that was what the social group was all about. People were already starting to go into the terminal building when Denise came back, this time with an attractive young woman at her side. I wondered if it was Denise's daughter, there to see us off. "Hector," she said, peering at me over the top of her glasses, "this is Molly Crenshaw. I've been explaining our predicament." The girl gave me a weak smile. She was pretty, with long brown hair swept back, wearing white shorts and a light blue top. She didn't look like she could be a day over twenty-one. Not at all what I had pictured as a travelling companion for Mrs. Pendergast. "It's a double room," Denise was explaining. "I'm sure they'll be able to rig up a partition if need be. But this will be the first cruise for both of you. It will be nice to have a buddy to help you find your way around. I'm sure the two of you will hit it off." Molly was still looking at me rather uncertainly. This apparently wasn't exactly what she had signed up for, either. She looked back at Denise. "Well, if his other room got cancelled,” Denise was delighted. The registration mix-up had been solved in an efficient and social-group-positive way. I couldn't believe she was being so cavalier about putting a guy and a girl who didn't even know each other into the same room together. "They're still working on my single though, right?" "As far as I know. You'll be able to check with the Bursar once we get on board." Denise had more than enough smile for the three of us. They called our area for boarding. "See you on board," she said, bustling off with her clipboard. Going up the gangway onto the ship itself kind of blew me away. You entered onto the mezzanine level of what looked like the fanciest mall I'd ever seen. There was an atrium that rose several stories high with glass elevators gliding up and down and fancy shops and glittering lights on every different level. On the floor below us a fellow in a tuxedo was playing a grand piano. All of this right in the middle of the ship. Molly's eyes were as wide as mine. They'd told us to have lunch while the luggage was being brought on. Molly and I had come aboard with a bunch of other social groupers, but they'd all buzzed off one way or another leaving the two of us by ourselves. We found a little sandwich and salad buffet. "So, your first cruise?" I asked. I was pretty sure I'd be able to get the room situation straightened out, but there was no harm in being polite. She assembled a forkful of salad. "Yes, Mrs. Pendergast is a patient at the clinic where I work. She's pretty chatty, you know. She kept talking about this fantastic cruise she was going on. But she needed a travelling companion to come along and sort of look after her." She shrugged. " Mrs. Pendergast offered to cover the cost, if I'd come with. I don't know, she has a way of getting what she wants." "Is she all right?" I asked. "Denise says she's afraid she might be coming down with something. She's a bit of a hypochondriac. But the tickets are already paid for, and I'm already here, so Denise said I should just come along on the cruise without her." She gave her little shrug again and took a sip of iced tea. "Your first cruise too?" "I'm not really a member of the social group, actually. I went on a nature hike with them one time and ended up on Denise's list. So now she sends me emails every time she has some big event. She was kind of persistent this time. I think they needed to sign up a certain number of people in order to get a discount or something." Molly nodded and stabbed a crouton. "Well, it is a cruise. It should be fun. And it'll be nice not to have to keep tabs on Mrs. Pendergast all the time. There's gambling, you know. When we get far enough out to sea." "You gamble?" "Of course. Poker, black jack. Machines mostly, but sometimes at the tables. I have a system. It's a lot of fun." After lunch I asked my way up to the Bursar's office. Molly came along to make sure that everything worked out. The Bursar looked me up in his computer. Apparently, when Mrs. Pendergast had cancelled, they'd looked to fill the vacancy with someone from our same group. I was the only one in a single, so they moved me in to fill her spot and gave my room to someone else. He double checked, but there weren't any other singles available. He apologized for the inconvenience and gave me my key card. I was flabbergasted. "Well," said Molly, "we might as well go check it out at least." We found our way down to the deck where the cabin was located. The room itself was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A chair, a little night stand, a mirror on the bathroom door, a bed against the wall. That was it. We looked at each other. "Kind of smaller than I would have thought," I said. "Yeah," she agreed. I corralled a passing steward. "Um, we were supposed to be getting a double room?" I showed him the printout. "Yes, yes," he said in his helpful foreign accent. "Very nice double cabin." "But there's only one bed." I said. "Double bed," he explained. Then he gestured toward the porthole on the wall. "Ocean view!" He smiled, happy to have been of service, and went on about his way. Molly didn't look altogether convinced. I sighed. "Let me go talk to the Bursar again,” But she was sizing things up. Sunshine was streaming in through the porthole. Our two suitcases had been placed in a little niche beside the bathroom door, side by side. "All the other rooms are probably just as small," she said. "On this level anyway. And they seem to have already given your other room away." She looked at me. "Do you snore?" It wasn't a question I was expecting. "I don't think so. No one's ever complained." "Well, Mrs. Pendergast does, apparently. That's the one thing I've been dreading the most." She looked back at the room. "I guess this is just what double rooms are like on cruise ships. Maybe it's not so bad. At least you don't snore. We're kind of on an adventure anyway. Maybe we should just try and make the best of it." She made it sound as if sharing a room with a complete stranger of the opposite sex was no bigger a deal than sharing a table with him at lunch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the schedule of the day's activities as if the issue had already been decided. "Shuffleboard lessons at three o'clock," she noted. "Bingo at four thirty." I sat down on the chair. So instead of getting a room of my own I was going to have to share this one? Surely there must be some other alternative. What if,  what if I asked Denise to ask Ciara to move in here with Molly and let me bunk with Jack? Ugh! I cringed at the thought. "A magic show tonight in the forward theatre." Molly announced; reading more literature. I looked around. How would it even work? The room was so tiny. There was only the one bed. Molly was studying a map of the ship. "What do you think we should do first?" She'd not only accepted the fact that we'd be rooming together, she was ready to head out and start exploring. "Um,  why don't you just go ahead on your own? I've still got a couple things I need to take care of first." I couldn't tell if she was a bit hurt that I didn't want to join her. But she shrugged it off. "Well, OK. Then I guess we can just meet back up here later." I didn't really have anything I needed to take care of, I just wanted a little time to sort things out. I was pretty bummed that they'd given away my single. And I wasn't sure how I felt about Molly's matter-of-fact-ness. Was she really so used to sharing rooms with random guys? Still, if I did have to share a room with someone, Molly was probably no more objectionable than Jack or Mrs. Pendergast. She was more my age. She was just out of college and I had a few years on her. She seemed pretty easy going. If we'd been thrown together as partners at a workshop breakout session, I wouldn't have objected. But sharing insights at a breakout session wasn't exactly the same as sharing a cabin on a cruise ship. I'd had to share rooms with strangers before, but they'd always been guys. What you did was you put on your blinders, you put up your shields, you went about your business, you let them go about theirs. You tried to be polite. At least that's the way it worked with guys. Did it work that way with girls too? I guess I'd find out. The ship must have cast off soon after we came on board, but so smoothly that we hadn't even noticed. By the time I found my way up on deck we'd already cleared the harbor and were quite a ways out from land. I stood at the railing and watched the waves roll by. I wondered whether I might get seasick, but the deck was as firm and steady as any sidewalk on the mainland. The ship turned out to be a whole little city unto itself. There was a miniature golf course at one end and a climbing wall at the other. The top deck held two full-sized swimming pools, each already surrounded by sun bathers glistening in cocoa butter. The lower decks held lounges and theaters and eateries and nightclubs. There were shops and kiosks on every level; a sports bar, a wine bar, two piano bars, a margarita bar ("Hi, Jack! Hi, Ciara!"); and any number of different ways to get from any one place to any other: by stairs, by elevator, by main passageway, by side passageway. Later in the afternoon I sat down at a little coffee shop toward the stern of the ship and nursed a cup of lapsang souchong. Seagulls were gliding along in our tailwind. I'd been making good progress on a couple algorithms at work, and I went over some of the key steps in my mind. It was nice being out of the cubicle for a change, sitting in the sunshine, daydreaming instead of coding, watching the seagulls hover and veer. My thoughts eventually wandered back to my room situation. I still couldn't understand why Molly was being so agreeable about sharing the cabin. It dawned on me that maybe she didn't think she had any other choice. Maybe she thought that since she was only here as Mrs. Pendergast's guest, she had to do whatever Denise asked. And so maybe she wasn't really all that used to sharing rooms with random guys either. Maybe she was just doing what she thought was expected. A fellow shipmate, a sort-of member of the same social group she was sort of a member of, needed a place to bunk. She had an empty spot. Didn't shipboard etiquette kind of dictate that she offer to share? But then, by the same token, what did shipboard etiquette expect of me? I finished my tea and ambled back toward the front of the ship. A raucous game of volleyball was taking place in one of the pools. Someone called my name. "Are you going back to the room? I forgot my card." It was Molly. She gave her little shrug. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini. It was fairly conservative, the kind she could wear to the gym, but it called your attention to her shapely legs and her slender tummy. We made our way down the labyrinth of passageways toward our lower deck. The people we passed would have naturally assumed that we were together. "I figured out about dinner," she said. "Everybody has an assigned time and an assigned table. Ours is in about an hour. We can go together if you want." After a couple of wrong turns we finally found our corridor and our little room. It hadn't gotten any bigger in the time we'd been away. But there was a fresh bath towel sitting on the bed, folded into a sort of soft-origami swan. "Look how cute," Molly said. "The housekeepers must have been in." She put her things on the nightstand and fiddled in her suitcase for some clothes. "I'm just going to take a quick shower first." She went into the bathroom, taking the swan along with her. I sat on the foot of the bed and took a look at the schedule. The walls were thin enough that I could hear the water splashing. She came out wrapped in the towel. "It's too cramped to get dressed in there," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. She looked around the room, a bit awkwardly. So this was one of the guys-and-girls-sharing-a-cabin rules that I wasn't really familiar with. What was I supposed to do while she got dressed? Step into the bathroom to give her some privacy? Or just ignore her, the way I would if I was sharing the room with a guy? She wasn't completely sure how to play it either. She turned to face the mirror, but that only put her sideways to me. So she turned all the way around, facing the outer door. She tried to give the impression that changing clothes in front of a cabin mate wasn't that big a deal. So I tried to follow her lead. I didn't stare, and she had her back to me, but it was hard not to notice what she was doing. She started by putting on her bra, but as she was pulling it up, her towel slipped, revealing the two round, pretty cheeks of her bottom. She quickly pulled the towel back into place, and I quickly forced my eyes back to the schedule. So it was only with my peripheral vision that I was able to see her stepping into her panties and skirt and buttoning up her blouse. Finally she sat on the chair to fasten her sandals. Our eyes met again. She sighed, then admitted. "I work in a clinic. I often have to help clients get over themselves, when they have to disrobe for an exam, in front of someone they don't know. I think I have better empathy, now. Oh, Dinner is supposed to be smart casual." she remarked. I took that to mean that my polo shirt didn't quite cut it. I'd brought a couple button-down shirts, and so I went over and got one from my suitcase. She nodded approvingly and turned to the mirror, fiddling with her hair. I took off my polo shirt and put on the button one. The dining room was immense, with big round tables like in a reception hall. Molly and I were assigned to a table with some of the other people from our group. I let Molly sit next to Ciara. There was nobody on my other side, which was fine with me. Molly and Ciara found some girl stuff to talk about. The general conversation at the table seemed to be about motorcycles. Denise stopped by to see how everyone was doing. Molly had the chicken and I had the fish. We resisted the hard liquor, but we both had a glass of wine with our meal. Valentin, our engaging Bulgarian waiter, brought us the chit. We had both just assumed that wine was included in the meal, but he explained that it would be added to our room bill. "Will they charge it to Mrs. Pendergast?" Molly whispered, afraid they might. "We'll figure it out," I whispered back, signing for both of us. The magic show didn't start until eight o'clock, so after dinner Molly suggested we just wander around. She showed me the little art gallery she'd discovered on deck six where it met the central atrium. Photographs of interesting doorways on old, rustic buildings. Just past the art gallery was a little gift shop. We went in, and Molly looked at the jewelry counter. She asked the lady to bring out a necklace that caught her eye. I leafed through the post cards, but I didn't really have anyone to send one to. We still had forty-five minutes until the show, so I took Molly up to the miniature golf course. We didn't bother keeping score. I made a couple lucky shots. Then, on the next-to-the-last hole, Molly's shot went wild and bounced onto the next green over. It ricocheted off a bumper and coasted down, curving gently, right into the cup. A perfect hole in one into the wrong hole! "Whoa!" I said. "Remind me never to play you for money." She raised her putter and blew on the end as if it were a smoking rifle barrel. "You should see me at pinball." The magic show was a lot of fun. The magician wore a black hat and cape and his pretty assistant wore a slinky black dress. They did all the traditional tricks with rings and scarves and giant cards. Then, for the grand finale, the magician announced that he was going to make his assistant disappear right before our very eyes. He had her stand at the front of the stage with her arms up and out to the crowd. He waved his wand and, Presto!, she didn't disappear, but her dress did! It was just gone! She kept standing there for a second with her breasts completely exposed and nothing covering her at all except a tiny G-string thong. Finally she realized what had happened. She shrieked, covered herself with her hands, and ran offstage, letting us see that her backside was just as shapely as her front. The magician was shocked that his trick had backfired. Shocked! But the audience was applauding wildly, and so he turned and bowed. And as he swept off his hat, what should fall out but the assistant's little black dress. He picked it up and gave us a sly grin. The assistant came out to take her bow, wrapped in a white ship's towel just like the one Molly had been wearing. When she saw what the magician had in his hand, she snatched it back from him with a nasty glare. The crowd ate it up. Molly was laughing as much as I was. After the show we went back up on deck and strolled a while in the cool night air. The ship was plowing along through moonlit waves, stars twinkling in the sky. Toward the stern, lively dance music was thumping up from the nightclubs below. We found our way down to check it out. We spotted Jack and Ciara in the hip-hop club amidst the flashing strobe lights and pulsing lasers. Jack raised his glass and Ciara called something we didn't quite catch. Further on was the salsa club, throbbing with its own level of intensity. Then came the golden oldies club, somewhat more subdued. And finally a relatively quiet lounge where we sat down and shared a bottle of sparkling water. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" Molly said. "I never thought there would be so many different things going on. A whole resort on a single ship! And they can just hoist up the anchor and sail us away to wherever they want to take us." I had to agree. "And the way it's so completely self-contained. I mean, what could we possibly want that they aren't already completely stocked up on? The whole rest of the world could just go ahead and blow itself up and we wouldn't even notice." It had been a pleasant evening. And Denise had been right: it had been fun to have a buddy to share it with. But now we were heading back to our little room, and we had to turn our attention to the more mundane aspects of cabin sharing. Molly went to the bathroom first, and then I did, and then neither of us was quite sure how to proceed. It was becoming pretty clear that she wasn't any more familiar with cabin sharing than I was. Both of us kept looking at the bed. It was up against the outer wall, and almost as long as the cabin was wide. It was going to be awkward getting to the side against the wall without disturbing the other person. Presumably the cabin-sharing etiquette book would have had something to say. I decided that one of us should at least try to pretend that they knew what they were doing. "Would you mind if I took the side with the ocean view?" That seemed like the most gentlemanly arrangement. She didn't argue, and in fact I think she was relieved to have the issue resolved. She opened her suitcase and brought out a pair of frilly, sky-blue pajamas. She looked around again and then turned her back like she had before. I sat down at the foot of the bed. I hadn't even thought to bring any pajamas myself. Well, there wasn't much I could do about it now. I took off my shoes and socks and tried not to pay any undue attention to what she was doing. She stepped into her pajama bottoms and pulled them up under her skirt before taking it off. Then she pulled off her blouse and put on her pajama top so quickly that I caught only the briefest glimpse of her bra strap. Then she reached in under the top, unhooked her bra, and fished it out. Meanwhile, I'd taken off my shirt and pants. I figured I could slip under the covers without her seeing me in my underwear. But then I realized that she'd had a perfect view in the bathroom-door mirror all along. She didn't let on, though. That seemed to be the universal rule of awkward cabin sharing, for girls as well as for guys. Just go about your business and let your cabin mate go about theirs. I crawled up onto the far side of the bed, trying not to notice if she was paying any attention. She turned off the light and got in on her side. I'd had to share beds with other guys before on occasion. What you do is turn your back, keep yourself perfectly still, and imagine that there is an invisible force field that insulates your half of the bed from the entire rest of the universe. I quickly discovered, however, that this technique is not that effective when the person lying beside you is a pretty girl in frilly pajamas. I got such a hard-on that I was sure she could sense it, even though we had our backs turned. So I thought about my algorithms. I rehearsed an upcoming seminar presentation of their salient features. And then I rehearsed it again. And then I rehearsed it again. Sunlight was shining in through the porthole again when I woke up the next morning. Molly was still asleep, but I needed to pee. I edged out of bed, trying my best not to disturb her. I went to the bathroom, then quietly got dressed and slipped out of the room. There were only a few people up on deck at this hour. We'd sailed during the night and were now anchored at the entrance to the harbor at Catalina Island. It was a beautiful morning, the water a rich cerulean blue, the harbor dotted with rows of pretty boats. I came back down and found a dining room that served breakfast. I had a bite and brought back coffee and a roll for Molly. She was up, but still in her pajamas. I told her about the island and tried to show her through the porthole. The way the ship was facing, though, we were only able to see the rugged hills of the island and not the harbor itself. By mid-morning she had talked me into going in to shore with her. It was like being transported back in time to the sunny southern California you see in old-time newsreels: palm trees, cute bungalows, handsome, sun-tanned people sitting at outdoor cafes or lounging under colorful beach umbrellas. We walked all the way along the beachfront to the palatial ballroom at the end, admiring its lovely art-deco mosaics of naked mermaids cavorting amidst swirling kelp forests and playful schools of fish. The huge round floor of the ballroom itself was dark and empty on this weekday morning, but photos along the walls showed elegantly dressed couples waltzing at the annual New Year's Eve ball. Molly was enchanted. "Let's come back for it, want to?" "I'm afraid my ballroom dancing is a little rusty." "Well, you'll have to brush up then." We strolled back along the main boulevard amidst tourists and tradesmen and shopping housewives. We looked in the windows of the boutiques and souvenir shops and had lunch at one of the sidewalk cafes. Molly filled me in on all the latest gossip about the interns and nurses at her clinic. I told her a bit about my algorithms. I may have gotten a little carried away, actually, but she did her best to follow along. Our map showed a botanical garden a couple miles out of town. Molly was game, so after lunch we rented a tourist cart and headed off to look for it. I drove and Molly navigated, and after a few wrong turns we found ourselves bumping along into the dusty interior of the island. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. It had never even occurred to me that there were botanical gardens devoted almost entirely to cactus. I'd certainly never imagined there were so many different varieties: towering suaros like in the cowboy movies; rough organ pipes that shimmered like coral formations on the floor of some strange alien sea; fuzzy white phalluses that tried to lure you into thinking they were cuddly enough to pet; plump barrel cactus with swirling patterns of pristine spikes as geometrically perfect as Faberge eggs. Molly discovered a sprawling specimen that must have taken up a half a city block. It was covered with prickly green Mickey Mouse ears, and on the whole rugged plant there was one lone ear that held a single tiny delicate yellow flower. "That's what I want for my corsage," she said. "When we come back for New Year's Eve." We eventually bumped our way back into town and dropped off the cart. The tender back to the ship was pretty full, and Molly and I had to press up shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench. She closed her eyes in the afternoon sunshine. "A perfect day," she murmured. "And tonight's the gala dinner. And gambling!" "Gala dinner?" She opened one eye just enough to give me a look. "You were supposed to bring a sport coat. It was in the brochure." When we got back to the room we found our towel on the nightstand, folded into the shape of a jungle cat, ready to pounce. I had brought my sports coat, but it was pretty creased from being crammed in my suitcase. Molly hung it in the bathroom when she went in to take her shower. Then when she was done I took my own, making sure to give her plenty of time to get dressed. I cracked the door to see if the coast was clear. She was making her final adjustments in the mirror and stepped aside to let me out. She was wearing a lilac gown with a sequined top and a long swishy skirt. "I got it on sale," she shrugged. But I could tell from the way she kept looking at herself in the mirror that she was pretty pleased with it. Now I was the one who had to get dressed in front of her. I just went at it cabin-buddy style, turning my back and pulling things up under my towel like she had done. When I fetched my sports coat from the bathroom, the creases were a little less noticeable. We made our way up to the dining room. It was nice, actually, being a little dressed up. I found myself walking a little taller, standing a little straighter. Molly took my arm as we made our way to the table, and everyone paused to look. Molly and Ciara chatted about shopping on the island. It turned out that Jack knew something about cacti from his landscaping work and was interested to hear about the botanical garden. The appetizers were oysters on the half shell. It was my first time eating them, and Molly showed me what to do. By the time that dinner was over, the ship had gotten far enough out to sea that the casino was open. Molly walked right in as if she knew what she was doing. She got ten dollars' worth of quarters, and I pitched in another ten, trying my best to match her air of confident sophistication. She went to one of the poker machines, and I drew up a stool beside her. "So what's this system of yours? Or is it a secret?" "I only play until I run out of quarters. That way I never lose more than I'm willing to spend." I didn't think that that was what people meant by a "system," but I didn't say anything. I watched her play a few hands. The machine would deal out five cards. She would select which ones she wanted to keep, and the machine would replace the others. "I usually just bet a quarter. But if we're going to pool our money, we can bet two at a time, OK?" I finally figured out how it worked. If we got anything less than a pair of jacks, the machine would keep our money. If we got jacks or better, it would give us our money back. If we got an even better hand, like two pairs or three of a kind, it would pay out according to a table posted on the screen. All the way up to a hundred bucks for a royal flush. We lost our first few quarters, but then we got three aces, and the machine clunked us six shiny new quarters back out. Molly would study each hand carefully before making her selection. She pretty much chose the same cards that I would have chosen, except she was a little over-optimistic about our chances of getting a straight or a flush. On one hand the machine dealt us the jack and king of diamonds, along with a pair of eights. She eagerly selected to keep the jack and the king. "No, no," I told her. "Keep the eights." "But we have a chance for a royal flush." "But the odds are better for getting another eight." She gave me her look of patient exasperation. "Because look,” I tried to say. But she wasn't particularly interested in my analysis. "OK, Mr. Algorithm." She changed the selection. The machine dealt us a queen, a three, and a six and beeped the forlorn tone that meant "better luck next time." Molly flashed me her told-you-so eyebrows. "Well, we wouldn't have gotten the royal flush either." "Not if we didn't even try!" There was one moment of genuine excitement when we got a full house, sixes and queens. The machine clanged like crazy and quarters came pouring out. But eventually every one of them got re-deposited, never to be seen again. It wasn't really gambling so much as just playing a video game. An enjoyable one, though. There was the dress-up aspect, the battle of wits, the allure of the hundred-dollar jackpot. Molly certainly enjoyed playing, and I enjoyed watching her. I noticed that it was almost time for the show. "Juggling?" Molly wasn't so sure. She rattled our cup. "We still have a few quarters left." "Yes, juggling! I'll have you know that I minored in juggling in college. Come on. It'll be fun." The show was in the forward theatre again, right next to the casino. The Flying Garbanzo Brothers! Hup Hup! Four strapping guys with streaming hair and Frank Zappa mustaches, dressed in colorful gypsy blouses and billowing pantaloons. They juggled everything from tennis balls to bowling pins to pineapples to power tools. One of the brothers, Yakov, had a rakish, devil-may-care attitude and was always grinning at the ladies in the audience. In one of the acts, as balls were whizzing back and forth across the stage, he started making eyes at a blonde in the front row. He began paying less and less attention to his juggling, occasionally letting a ball fly past him, which one of the other brothers would then have to lurch out of formation to keep in play. Finally he just gave up on the juggling altogether and sat down on the edge of the stage, chatting the lady up. The other brothers were flailing frantically to keep all the balls in the air. They began to retire them, one by one, but somehow the very last ball went out of control and arched way up high toward the front of the stage. Yakov casually reached his hand out to the side and caught it without even looking. "Ladies and gentlemen!" announced Ripov, the black brother with dreads, "For our grand finale, a feat of blistering dexterity so flagrantly dangerous that it has never before been attempted within the enclosed confines of a luxury liner!" The brothers proceeded to arrange a panoply of torches and hoops and bales of combustible material all around the stage. Yakov came out sporting a mischievous grin and lugging a big red can, labeled 'gasoline.' Just as he was about to douse the first bale, the stagehand stormed in, a short oriental fellow in a white lab coat and thick black glasses, squawking in a barely intelligible accent and waving the ubiquitous ship safety placard, the one with the picture of the lifesaver on it. Yakov's grin collapsed into a sneer, but he put down the can. "Still never attempted," he muttered under his breath. The brothers juggled the torches anyway, unlit but unwieldy, back and forth through the hoops and over the bales. Suddenly red and orange crepe-paper streamers unfurled and rose up, flickering like flames and giving the impression, at least, of a roaring inferno. All in all, it was enough to get your blood pumping. When the show was over there was a bit of a traffic jam getting out of the theater. I grabbed Molly's hand and dragged her toward a less crowded side exit. Hup hup! We found ourselves in a stateroom passageway, and I kept dragging her along at a rapid pace. "Where are we going?" she asked. "C'mon," I replied. The fact is, I didn't really know. At the end of the passage was a short stairway up to a bulkhead door. We went through and found ourselves outside on a little deck by the lifeboats. The sun had set, but you could still see the frothy wave caps. At the end of the deck was another stairway, and at the top was the entrance to the miniature golf. I still didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but it wasn't miniature golf. There was another way to go, though, even further forward, right along the edge of the bow. Molly was panting from our frantic pace, but she was keeping up. We'd reached the very front of the ship. The image of Leonardo DeCaprio holding Kate Winslet on the bow of the Titanic flashed into my mind. That's what I wanted! Moonlight! Sea spray! Violins! But the forward view was all walled off. The only thing you could see, if you turned around, was the bridge, looming up above us, ominously dark except for the eerie glow from the radar screens. There was a stairway leading up to it, but the sign said "Authorized personnel only." "Kind of not what I was expecting," I said. "Oh, well," she said. She pulled us across to the other side where another deckway led back aft. The wall there was not so high, and we stood for a while, watching the foamy caps and the unbounded emptiness. We had engine noises instead of violins and a stinging wind instead of an enchanted spray. "Do you think they'd even bother to tell us?" she wondered. "Tell us?" "If the world blew itself up." But the wind was just too fierce. We retreated back to the more sheltered parts of the ship. This time Jack and Ciara were in the Salsa Club. They waved us in. "What are you having?" Jack yelled over the music, heading for the bar. Ciara and Molly had to half shout to hear each other. Jack came back with something tall and fruity for Molly and something short and amber colored for me. The music was catchy and persistent. Jack held out his hand and led Molly onto the dance floor. They made a handsome couple: Jack rugged and manly, Molly fresh and pretty. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Molly knew a lot of steps, and she was clearly enjoying herself. I gave Ciara an awkward smile and we walked out to join them. It turned out that Ciara was quite a dancer too. She would lose herself in the music, letting her willowy body become an instrument of its expression. I felt kind of bad that she was stuck having me as her partner, but the dance floor was crowded and she didn't seem to mind. When the song ended, she smiled and put her hand on my arm as she caught her breath. She was attractive, with long, honey-blonde hair and a captivating smile. A bit older than me, but not that much. I tried to picture the two of us going out after we got back home. By the third song it was no longer really clear any more who was dancing with whom. Ciara and Molly were dancing next to each other and laughing together at something one of them had said. Then Ciara turned her attention to Jack, and he gave her a few of the moves that her dancing so richly deserved. They made a striking couple too, in a different way than Jack and Molly. They seemed more appropriate for each other, somehow, a better fit. And there was a genuine cozy affection between them that I could imagine outlasting the cruise. Meanwhile, Molly was dancing beside me now, her freshness and joyful enthusiasm now beamed my way. That seemed more appropriate too. Molly and I finally called it a night. It had been a long, eventful day: mermaids, cacti, sea spray, dancing. We made our way down the corridor to the little room that was beginning to feel more and more like home. I took off my coat. Molly's hair was a bit mussed, but she looked happy, as if her day had been as full and eventful as mine had been. I brought my arms up to give her a little hug. I figured that the rules of cabin etiquette wouldn't begrudge us one little hug. But she stepped into it, and before I knew it we were kissing, a kiss that continued as we shuffled our way toward the bed. We sat down. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran it over her sequined back. She touched my face and let her tongue brush my lips. I stroked her side and whispily brushed her breast. She drew in her breath, then reached behind herself and undid her clasp. Her bodice slipped down like a sequined snake skin, revealing the more luminous, more tender skin beneath. Her breasts were perfect, pale and shy, each one frankly punctuated by a bashful, yearning nipple. I couldn't help but lean in and encircle one of them with my lips, tasting it gently with my own tongue. She held me softly there. The rules of cabin etiquette, it seemed, had been suspended by mutual consent. She lifted herself just enough to slip her gown off the rest of the way. She draped it over the chair and gave me the bashful version of her shrug. We had to get ready for bed after all. I undressed too, placing my clothes on top of hers. She lay down, wearing only her panties. I took off everything and lay down beside her. We glided our hands over each other's arms, over each other's sides, over each other's hips. My penis was sticking out like a sore thumb, but I just let it. I caressed her firm bottom and hitched her closer so that our thighs touched, so that her nipples grazed my chest. I slipped my hand down inside her panties to be even closer to the smooth, cool touch of her skin. Always before, one part of my brain would already have been working out the logistics of getting us back where we would need to go when we were finished. But tonight those concerns were blissfully absent. We were both already right where we needed to be, right in the very bed where we would be spending the night. But there was one concern I couldn't put aside. "I'm afraid I didn't think to bring any protection. Do you think the gift shop might still be open?" "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm protected." We kissed again. She reached down and slipped off her last remaining piece of clothing. So now we both were naked, lying together in each other's arms, in the very bed where we were going to spend the night. It wasn't that I didn't know what to do next, it was just that I was a little bashful to be the one to initiate it. And, truth be told, I was more than happy just to be doing what we were doing, lying together so intimately, so completely within each other's personal space, so fully accepting, so fully accepted. If that was going to be enough for her, it was certainly plenty enough for me. But I didn't object when she knelt up, and straddled my thighs, and took my rigid penis in her hand, and glided her moist vagina down upon it. Neither of us said a word. Partly it was shyness, but partly it was just because there was no need to muddle up with words what our entwined bodies were already saying so well without them. To be continued. By HectorBidon for Literotica.

Strangers forced to share a cabin on a cruise ship. By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.  The waiting area outside the Long Beach cruise terminal was abuzz with bright new outfits and happy chatter. It was enough to make even the most reserved introvert start to feel a bit of excitement. I was standing with Jack and Ciara, two regulars of the social group. Jack was tall and rugged, something to do with landscaping; Ciara tall and willowy, worked in an office of some sort. They weren't an official couple, as far as I knew, but they seemed to have hooked up for the New Year's Pacific cruise. That was sort of the way the group worked. Thirty somethings, mostly divorced, intent on maintaining the hard playing lifestyle of their twenties, looking for like-minded dating partners to do it with. Jack was explaining the different cruise drink payment plans. I smiled politely and nodded, thinking how different from theirs my life would be when I got to be their age. Denise bustled up in a pretty pastel pantsuit with her clipboard in her hand. She was a travel agent and the mother hen of the group, forty-something and no longer trying so hard to pretend she was any younger. She'd put together this group and made a nice extra income for her troubles. "Hector," she said, ushering me a step aside, "I'm afraid there's been a mix up with your reservation. Somehow your single cabin didn't show up on the final printout." She gave me a concerned look. "They're working on it,,  but we may have to double you up with someone." This came as a bit of a rude surprise. One of the only reasons I'd finally agreed to come on the cruise in the first place had been her assurance that I'd be able to have a single. It wasn't that I was antisocial really, but I had my limits. "You know Mrs. Pendergast, don't you?" Mrs. Pendergast was an older woman, well into her sixties. She wasn't a regular member of the group, but it amused her sometimes to hang with a younger crowd. The group let her tag along to some of their events. I was going to have to share a room with Mrs. Pendergast? "Apparently she got sick and had to cancel at the last minute. So we have an opening. She was sharing a room with, ah;" she double checked her forms; "a Ms. Crenshaw. I don't know her, but I'm sure she's very nice. It's a double room, and you know how it is on a cruise. You don't spend that much time in your room anyway." I didn't even try to return her smile. "They're still working on your single, of course. I just wanted to let you know the fallback plan." Not only losing my single, but having to spend the cruise being polite to an old lady? In Denise's mind, that was what the social group was all about. People were already starting to go into the terminal building when Denise came back, this time with an attractive young woman at her side. I wondered if it was Denise's daughter, there to see us off. "Hector," she said, peering at me over the top of her glasses, "this is Molly Crenshaw. I've been explaining our predicament." The girl gave me a weak smile. She was pretty, with long brown hair swept back, wearing white shorts and a light blue top. She didn't look like she could be a day over twenty-one. Not at all what I had pictured as a travelling companion for Mrs. Pendergast. "It's a double room," Denise was explaining. "I'm sure they'll be able to rig up a partition if need be. But this will be the first cruise for both of you. It will be nice to have a buddy to help you find your way around. I'm sure the two of you will hit it off." Molly was still looking at me rather uncertainly. This apparently wasn't exactly what she had signed up for, either. She looked back at Denise. "Well, if his other room got cancelled,” Denise was delighted. The registration mix-up had been solved in an efficient and social-group-positive way. I couldn't believe she was being so cavalier about putting a guy and a girl who didn't even know each other into the same room together. "They're still working on my single though, right?" "As far as I know. You'll be able to check with the Bursar once we get on board." Denise had more than enough smile for the three of us. They called our area for boarding. "See you on board," she said, bustling off with her clipboard. Going up the gangway onto the ship itself kind of blew me away. You entered onto the mezzanine level of what looked like the fanciest mall I'd ever seen. There was an atrium that rose several stories high with glass elevators gliding up and down and fancy shops and glittering lights on every different level. On the floor below us a fellow in a tuxedo was playing a grand piano. All of this right in the middle of the ship. Molly's eyes were as wide as mine. They'd told us to have lunch while the luggage was being brought on. Molly and I had come aboard with a bunch of other social groupers, but they'd all buzzed off one way or another leaving the two of us by ourselves. We found a little sandwich and salad buffet. "So, your first cruise?" I asked. I was pretty sure I'd be able to get the room situation straightened out, but there was no harm in being polite. She assembled a forkful of salad. "Yes, Mrs. Pendergast is a patient at the clinic where I work. She's pretty chatty, you know. She kept talking about this fantastic cruise she was going on. But she needed a travelling companion to come along and sort of look after her." She shrugged. " Mrs. Pendergast offered to cover the cost, if I'd come with. I don't know, she has a way of getting what she wants." "Is she all right?" I asked. "Denise says she's afraid she might be coming down with something. She's a bit of a hypochondriac. But the tickets are already paid for, and I'm already here, so Denise said I should just come along on the cruise without her." She gave her little shrug again and took a sip of iced tea. "Your first cruise too?" "I'm not really a member of the social group, actually. I went on a nature hike with them one time and ended up on Denise's list. So now she sends me emails every time she has some big event. She was kind of persistent this time. I think they needed to sign up a certain number of people in order to get a discount or something." Molly nodded and stabbed a crouton. "Well, it is a cruise. It should be fun. And it'll be nice not to have to keep tabs on Mrs. Pendergast all the time. There's gambling, you know. When we get far enough out to sea." "You gamble?" "Of course. Poker, black jack. Machines mostly, but sometimes at the tables. I have a system. It's a lot of fun." After lunch I asked my way up to the Bursar's office. Molly came along to make sure that everything worked out. The Bursar looked me up in his computer. Apparently, when Mrs. Pendergast had cancelled, they'd looked to fill the vacancy with someone from our same group. I was the only one in a single, so they moved me in to fill her spot and gave my room to someone else. He double checked, but there weren't any other singles available. He apologized for the inconvenience and gave me my key card. I was flabbergasted. "Well," said Molly, "we might as well go check it out at least." We found our way down to the deck where the cabin was located. The room itself was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A chair, a little night stand, a mirror on the bathroom door, a bed against the wall. That was it. We looked at each other. "Kind of smaller than I would have thought," I said. "Yeah," she agreed. I corralled a passing steward. "Um, we were supposed to be getting a double room?" I showed him the printout. "Yes, yes," he said in his helpful foreign accent. "Very nice double cabin." "But there's only one bed." I said. "Double bed," he explained. Then he gestured toward the porthole on the wall. "Ocean view!" He smiled, happy to have been of service, and went on about his way. Molly didn't look altogether convinced. I sighed. "Let me go talk to the Bursar again,” But she was sizing things up. Sunshine was streaming in through the porthole. Our two suitcases had been placed in a little niche beside the bathroom door, side by side. "All the other rooms are probably just as small," she said. "On this level anyway. And they seem to have already given your other room away." She looked at me. "Do you snore?" It wasn't a question I was expecting. "I don't think so. No one's ever complained." "Well, Mrs. Pendergast does, apparently. That's the one thing I've been dreading the most." She looked back at the room. "I guess this is just what double rooms are like on cruise ships. Maybe it's not so bad. At least you don't snore. We're kind of on an adventure anyway. Maybe we should just try and make the best of it." She made it sound as if sharing a room with a complete stranger of the opposite sex was no bigger a deal than sharing a table with him at lunch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the schedule of the day's activities as if the issue had already been decided. "Shuffleboard lessons at three o'clock," she noted. "Bingo at four thirty." I sat down on the chair. So instead of getting a room of my own I was going to have to share this one? Surely there must be some other alternative. What if,  what if I asked Denise to ask Ciara to move in here with Molly and let me bunk with Jack? Ugh! I cringed at the thought. "A magic show tonight in the forward theatre." Molly announced; reading more literature. I looked around. How would it even work? The room was so tiny. There was only the one bed. Molly was studying a map of the ship. "What do you think we should do first?" She'd not only accepted the fact that we'd be rooming together, she was ready to head out and start exploring. "Um,  why don't you just go ahead on your own? I've still got a couple things I need to take care of first." I couldn't tell if she was a bit hurt that I didn't want to join her. But she shrugged it off. "Well, OK. Then I guess we can just meet back up here later." I didn't really have anything I needed to take care of, I just wanted a little time to sort things out. I was pretty bummed that they'd given away my single. And I wasn't sure how I felt about Molly's matter-of-fact-ness. Was she really so used to sharing rooms with random guys? Still, if I did have to share a room with someone, Molly was probably no more objectionable than Jack or Mrs. Pendergast. She was more my age. She was just out of college and I had a few years on her. She seemed pretty easy going. If we'd been thrown together as partners at a workshop breakout session, I wouldn't have objected. But sharing insights at a breakout session wasn't exactly the same as sharing a cabin on a cruise ship. I'd had to share rooms with strangers before, but they'd always been guys. What you did was you put on your blinders, you put up your shields, you went about your business, you let them go about theirs. You tried to be polite. At least that's the way it worked with guys. Did it work that way with girls too? I guess I'd find out. The ship must have cast off soon after we came on board, but so smoothly that we hadn't even noticed. By the time I found my way up on deck we'd already cleared the harbor and were quite a ways out from land. I stood at the railing and watched the waves roll by. I wondered whether I might get seasick, but the deck was as firm and steady as any sidewalk on the mainland. The ship turned out to be a whole little city unto itself. There was a miniature golf course at one end and a climbing wall at the other. The top deck held two full-sized swimming pools, each already surrounded by sun bathers glistening in cocoa butter. The lower decks held lounges and theaters and eateries and nightclubs. There were shops and kiosks on every level; a sports bar, a wine bar, two piano bars, a margarita bar ("Hi, Jack! Hi, Ciara!"); and any number of different ways to get from any one place to any other: by stairs, by elevator, by main passageway, by side passageway. Later in the afternoon I sat down at a little coffee shop toward the stern of the ship and nursed a cup of lapsang souchong. Seagulls were gliding along in our tailwind. I'd been making good progress on a couple algorithms at work, and I went over some of the key steps in my mind. It was nice being out of the cubicle for a change, sitting in the sunshine, daydreaming instead of coding, watching the seagulls hover and veer. My thoughts eventually wandered back to my room situation. I still couldn't understand why Molly was being so agreeable about sharing the cabin. It dawned on me that maybe she didn't think she had any other choice. Maybe she thought that since she was only here as Mrs. Pendergast's guest, she had to do whatever Denise asked. And so maybe she wasn't really all that used to sharing rooms with random guys either. Maybe she was just doing what she thought was expected. A fellow shipmate, a sort-of member of the same social group she was sort of a member of, needed a place to bunk. She had an empty spot. Didn't shipboard etiquette kind of dictate that she offer to share? But then, by the same token, what did shipboard etiquette expect of me? I finished my tea and ambled back toward the front of the ship. A raucous game of volleyball was taking place in one of the pools. Someone called my name. "Are you going back to the room? I forgot my card." It was Molly. She gave her little shrug. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini. It was fairly conservative, the kind she could wear to the gym, but it called your attention to her shapely legs and her slender tummy. We made our way down the labyrinth of passageways toward our lower deck. The people we passed would have naturally assumed that we were together. "I figured out about dinner," she said. "Everybody has an assigned time and an assigned table. Ours is in about an hour. We can go together if you want." After a couple of wrong turns we finally found our corridor and our little room. It hadn't gotten any bigger in the time we'd been away. But there was a fresh bath towel sitting on the bed, folded into a sort of soft-origami swan. "Look how cute," Molly said. "The housekeepers must have been in." She put her things on the nightstand and fiddled in her suitcase for some clothes. "I'm just going to take a quick shower first." She went into the bathroom, taking the swan along with her. I sat on the foot of the bed and took a look at the schedule. The walls were thin enough that I could hear the water splashing. She came out wrapped in the towel. "It's too cramped to get dressed in there," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. She looked around the room, a bit awkwardly. So this was one of the guys-and-girls-sharing-a-cabin rules that I wasn't really familiar with. What was I supposed to do while she got dressed? Step into the bathroom to give her some privacy? Or just ignore her, the way I would if I was sharing the room with a guy? She wasn't completely sure how to play it either. She turned to face the mirror, but that only put her sideways to me. So she turned all the way around, facing the outer door. She tried to give the impression that changing clothes in front of a cabin mate wasn't that big a deal. So I tried to follow her lead. I didn't stare, and she had her back to me, but it was hard not to notice what she was doing. She started by putting on her bra, but as she was pulling it up, her towel slipped, revealing the two round, pretty cheeks of her bottom. She quickly pulled the towel back into place, and I quickly forced my eyes back to the schedule. So it was only with my peripheral vision that I was able to see her stepping into her panties and skirt and buttoning up her blouse. Finally she sat on the chair to fasten her sandals. Our eyes met again. She sighed, then admitted. "I work in a clinic. I often have to help clients get over themselves, when they have to disrobe for an exam, in front of someone they don't know. I think I have better empathy, now. Oh, Dinner is supposed to be smart casual." she remarked. I took that to mean that my polo shirt didn't quite cut it. I'd brought a couple button-down shirts, and so I went over and got one from my suitcase. She nodded approvingly and turned to the mirror, fiddling with her hair. I took off my polo shirt and put on the button one. The dining room was immense, with big round tables like in a reception hall. Molly and I were assigned to a table with some of the other people from our group. I let Molly sit next to Ciara. There was nobody on my other side, which was fine with me. Molly and Ciara found some girl stuff to talk about. The general conversation at the table seemed to be about motorcycles. Denise stopped by to see how everyone was doing. Molly had the chicken and I had the fish. We resisted the hard liquor, but we both had a glass of wine with our meal. Valentin, our engaging Bulgarian waiter, brought us the chit. We had both just assumed that wine was included in the meal, but he explained that it would be added to our room bill. "Will they charge it to Mrs. Pendergast?" Molly whispered, afraid they might. "We'll figure it out," I whispered back, signing for both of us. The magic show didn't start until eight o'clock, so after dinner Molly suggested we just wander around. She showed me the little art gallery she'd discovered on deck six where it met the central atrium. Photographs of interesting doorways on old, rustic buildings. Just past the art gallery was a little gift shop. We went in, and Molly looked at the jewelry counter. She asked the lady to bring out a necklace that caught her eye. I leafed through the post cards, but I didn't really have anyone to send one to. We still had forty-five minutes until the show, so I took Molly up to the miniature golf course. We didn't bother keeping score. I made a couple lucky shots. Then, on the next-to-the-last hole, Molly's shot went wild and bounced onto the next green over. It ricocheted off a bumper and coasted down, curving gently, right into the cup. A perfect hole in one into the wrong hole! "Whoa!" I said. "Remind me never to play you for money." She raised her putter and blew on the end as if it were a smoking rifle barrel. "You should see me at pinball." The magic show was a lot of fun. The magician wore a black hat and cape and his pretty assistant wore a slinky black dress. They did all the traditional tricks with rings and scarves and giant cards. Then, for the grand finale, the magician announced that he was going to make his assistant disappear right before our very eyes. He had her stand at the front of the stage with her arms up and out to the crowd. He waved his wand and, Presto!, she didn't disappear, but her dress did! It was just gone! She kept standing there for a second with her breasts completely exposed and nothing covering her at all except a tiny G-string thong. Finally she realized what had happened. She shrieked, covered herself with her hands, and ran offstage, letting us see that her backside was just as shapely as her front. The magician was shocked that his trick had backfired. Shocked! But the audience was applauding wildly, and so he turned and bowed. And as he swept off his hat, what should fall out but the assistant's little black dress. He picked it up and gave us a sly grin. The assistant came out to take her bow, wrapped in a white ship's towel just like the one Molly had been wearing. When she saw what the magician had in his hand, she snatched it back from him with a nasty glare. The crowd ate it up. Molly was laughing as much as I was. After the show we went back up on deck and strolled a while in the cool night air. The ship was plowing along through moonlit waves, stars twinkling in the sky. Toward the stern, lively dance music was thumping up from the nightclubs below. We found our way down to check it out. We spotted Jack and Ciara in the hip-hop club amidst the flashing strobe lights and pulsing lasers. Jack raised his glass and Ciara called something we didn't quite catch. Further on was the salsa club, throbbing with its own level of intensity. Then came the golden oldies club, somewhat more subdued. And finally a relatively quiet lounge where we sat down and shared a bottle of sparkling water. "It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" Molly said. "I never thought there would be so many different things going on. A whole resort on a single ship! And they can just hoist up the anchor and sail us away to wherever they want to take us." I had to agree. "And the way it's so completely self-contained. I mean, what could we possibly want that they aren't already completely stocked up on? The whole rest of the world could just go ahead and blow itself up and we wouldn't even notice." It had been a pleasant evening. And Denise had been right: it had been fun to have a buddy to share it with. But now we were heading back to our little room, and we had to turn our attention to the more mundane aspects of cabin sharing. Molly went to the bathroom first, and then I did, and then neither of us was quite sure how to proceed. It was becoming pretty clear that she wasn't any more familiar with cabin sharing than I was. Both of us kept looking at the bed. It was up against the outer wall, and almost as long as the cabin was wide. It was going to be awkward getting to the side against the wall without disturbing the other person. Presumably the cabin-sharing etiquette book would have had something to say. I decided that one of us should at least try to pretend that they knew what they were doing. "Would you mind if I took the side with the ocean view?" That seemed like the most gentlemanly arrangement. She didn't argue, and in fact I think she was relieved to have the issue resolved. She opened her suitcase and brought out a pair of frilly, sky-blue pajamas. She looked around again and then turned her back like she had before. I sat down at the foot of the bed. I hadn't even thought to bring any pajamas myself. Well, there wasn't much I could do about it now. I took off my shoes and socks and tried not to pay any undue attention to what she was doing. She stepped into her pajama bottoms and pulled them up under her skirt before taking it off. Then she pulled off her blouse and put on her pajama top so quickly that I caught only the briefest glimpse of her bra strap. Then she reached in under the top, unhooked her bra, and fished it out. Meanwhile, I'd taken off my shirt and pants. I figured I could slip under the covers without her seeing me in my underwear. But then I realized that she'd had a perfect view in the bathroom-door mirror all along. She didn't let on, though. That seemed to be the universal rule of awkward cabin sharing, for girls as well as for guys. Just go about your business and let your cabin mate go about theirs. I crawled up onto the far side of the bed, trying not to notice if she was paying any attention. She turned off the light and got in on her side. I'd had to share beds with other guys before on occasion. What you do is turn your back, keep yourself perfectly still, and imagine that there is an invisible force field that insulates your half of the bed from the entire rest of the universe. I quickly discovered, however, that this technique is not that effective when the person lying beside you is a pretty girl in frilly pajamas. I got such a hard-on that I was sure she could sense it, even though we had our backs turned. So I thought about my algorithms. I rehearsed an upcoming seminar presentation of their salient features. And then I rehearsed it again. And then I rehearsed it again. Sunlight was shining in through the porthole again when I woke up the next morning. Molly was still asleep, but I needed to pee. I edged out of bed, trying my best not to disturb her. I went to the bathroom, then quietly got dressed and slipped out of the room. There were only a few people up on deck at this hour. We'd sailed during the night and were now anchored at the entrance to the harbor at Catalina Island. It was a beautiful morning, the water a rich cerulean blue, the harbor dotted with rows of pretty boats. I came back down and found a dining room that served breakfast. I had a bite and brought back coffee and a roll for Molly. She was up, but still in her pajamas. I told her about the island and tried to show her through the porthole. The way the ship was facing, though, we were only able to see the rugged hills of the island and not the harbor itself. By mid-morning she had talked me into going in to shore with her. It was like being transported back in time to the sunny southern California you see in old-time newsreels: palm trees, cute bungalows, handsome, sun-tanned people sitting at outdoor cafes or lounging under colorful beach umbrellas. We walked all the way along the beachfront to the palatial ballroom at the end, admiring its lovely art-deco mosaics of naked mermaids cavorting amidst swirling kelp forests and playful schools of fish. The huge round floor of the ballroom itself was dark and empty on this weekday morning, but photos along the walls showed elegantly dressed couples waltzing at the annual New Year's Eve ball. Molly was enchanted. "Let's come back for it, want to?" "I'm afraid my ballroom dancing is a little rusty." "Well, you'll have to brush up then." We strolled back along the main boulevard amidst tourists and tradesmen and shopping housewives. We looked in the windows of the boutiques and souvenir shops and had lunch at one of the sidewalk cafes. Molly filled me in on all the latest gossip about the interns and nurses at her clinic. I told her a bit about my algorithms. I may have gotten a little carried away, actually, but she did her best to follow along. Our map showed a botanical garden a couple miles out of town. Molly was game, so after lunch we rented a tourist cart and headed off to look for it. I drove and Molly navigated, and after a few wrong turns we found ourselves bumping along into the dusty interior of the island. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. It had never even occurred to me that there were botanical gardens devoted almost entirely to cactus. I'd certainly never imagined there were so many different varieties: towering suaros like in the cowboy movies; rough organ pipes that shimmered like coral formations on the floor of some strange alien sea; fuzzy white phalluses that tried to lure you into thinking they were cuddly enough to pet; plump barrel cactus with swirling patterns of pristine spikes as geometrically perfect as Faberge eggs. Molly discovered a sprawling specimen that must have taken up a half a city block. It was covered with prickly green Mickey Mouse ears, and on the whole rugged plant there was one lone ear that held a single tiny delicate yellow flower. "That's what I want for my corsage," she said. "When we come back for New Year's Eve." We eventually bumped our way back into town and dropped off the cart. The tender back to the ship was pretty full, and Molly and I had to press up shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench. She closed her eyes in the afternoon sunshine. "A perfect day," she murmured. "And tonight's the gala dinner. And gambling!" "Gala dinner?" She opened one eye just enough to give me a look. "You were supposed to bring a sport coat. It was in the brochure." When we got back to the room we found our towel on the nightstand, folded into the shape of a jungle cat, ready to pounce. I had brought my sports coat, but it was pretty creased from being crammed in my suitcase. Molly hung it in the bathroom when she went in to take her shower. Then when she was done I took my own, making sure to give her plenty of time to get dressed. I cracked the door to see if the coast was clear. She was making her final adjustments in the mirror and stepped aside to let me out. She was wearing a lilac gown with a sequined top and a long swishy skirt. "I got it on sale," she shrugged. But I could tell from the way she kept looking at herself in the mirror that she was pretty pleased with it. Now I was the one who had to get dressed in front of her. I just went at it cabin-buddy style, turning my back and pulling things up under my towel like she had done. When I fetched my sports coat from the bathroom, the creases were a little less noticeable. We made our way up to the dining room. It was nice, actually, being a little dressed up. I found myself walking a little taller, standing a little straighter. Molly took my arm as we made our way to the table, and everyone paused to look. Molly and Ciara chatted about shopping on the island. It turned out that Jack knew something about cacti from his landscaping work and was interested to hear about the botanical garden. The appetizers were oysters on the half shell. It was my first time eating them, and Molly showed me what to do. By the time that dinner was over, the ship had gotten far enough out to sea that the casino was open. Molly walked right in as if she knew what she was doing. She got ten dollars' worth of quarters, and I pitched in another ten, trying my best to match her air of confident sophistication. She went to one of the poker machines, and I drew up a stool beside her. "So what's this system of yours? Or is it a secret?" "I only play until I run out of quarters. That way I never lose more than I'm willing to spend." I didn't think that that was what people meant by a "system," but I didn't say anything. I watched her play a few hands. The machine would deal out five cards. She would select which ones she wanted to keep, and the machine would replace the others. "I usually just bet a quarter. But if we're going to pool our money, we can bet two at a time, OK?" I finally figured out how it worked. If we got anything less than a pair of jacks, the machine would keep our money. If we got jacks or better, it would give us our money back. If we got an even better hand, like two pairs or three of a kind, it would pay out according to a table posted on the screen. All the way up to a hundred bucks for a royal flush. We lost our first few quarters, but then we got three aces, and the machine clunked us six shiny new quarters back out. Molly would study each hand carefully before making her selection. She pretty much chose the same cards that I would have chosen, except she was a little over-optimistic about our chances of getting a straight or a flush. On one hand the machine dealt us the jack and king of diamonds, along with a pair of eights. She eagerly selected to keep the jack and the king. "No, no," I told her. "Keep the eights." "But we have a chance for a royal flush." "But the odds are better for getting another eight." She gave me her look of patient exasperation. "Because look,” I tried to say. But she wasn't particularly interested in my analysis. "OK, Mr. Algorithm." She changed the selection. The machine dealt us a queen, a three, and a six and beeped the forlorn tone that meant "better luck next time." Molly flashed me her told-you-so eyebrows. "Well, we wouldn't have gotten the royal flush either." "Not if we didn't even try!" There was one moment of genuine excitement when we got a full house, sixes and queens. The machine clanged like crazy and quarters came pouring out. But eventually every one of them got re-deposited, never to be seen again. It wasn't really gambling so much as just playing a video game. An enjoyable one, though. There was the dress-up aspect, the battle of wits, the allure of the hundred-dollar jackpot. Molly certainly enjoyed playing, and I enjoyed watching her. I noticed that it was almost time for the show. "Juggling?" Molly wasn't so sure. She rattled our cup. "We still have a few quarters left." "Yes, juggling! I'll have you know that I minored in juggling in college. Come on. It'll be fun." The show was in the forward theatre again, right next to the casino. The Flying Garbanzo Brothers! Hup Hup! Four strapping guys with streaming hair and Frank Zappa mustaches, dressed in colorful gypsy blouses and billowing pantaloons. They juggled everything from tennis balls to bowling pins to pineapples to power tools. One of the brothers, Yakov, had a rakish, devil-may-care attitude and was always grinning at the ladies in the audience. In one of the acts, as balls were whizzing back and forth across the stage, he started making eyes at a blonde in the front row. He began paying less and less attention to his juggling, occasionally letting a ball fly past him, which one of the other brothers would then have to lurch out of formation to keep in play. Finally he just gave up on the juggling altogether and sat down on the edge of the stage, chatting the lady up. The other brothers were flailing frantically to keep all the balls in the air. They began to retire them, one by one, but somehow the very last ball went out of control and arched way up high toward the front of the stage. Yakov casually reached his hand out to the side and caught it without even looking. "Ladies and gentlemen!" announced Ripov, the black brother with dreads, "For our grand finale, a feat of blistering dexterity so flagrantly dangerous that it has never before been attempted within the enclosed confines of a luxury liner!" The brothers proceeded to arrange a panoply of torches and hoops and bales of combustible material all around the stage. Yakov came out sporting a mischievous grin and lugging a big red can, labeled 'gasoline.' Just as he was about to douse the first bale, the stagehand stormed in, a short oriental fellow in a white lab coat and thick black glasses, squawking in a barely intelligible accent and waving the ubiquitous ship safety placard, the one with the picture of the lifesaver on it. Yakov's grin collapsed into a sneer, but he put down the can. "Still never attempted," he muttered under his breath. The brothers juggled the torches anyway, unlit but unwieldy, back and forth through the hoops and over the bales. Suddenly red and orange crepe-paper streamers unfurled and rose up, flickering like flames and giving the impression, at least, of a roaring inferno. All in all, it was enough to get your blood pumping. When the show was over there was a bit of a traffic jam getting out of the theater. I grabbed Molly's hand and dragged her toward a less crowded side exit. Hup hup! We found ourselves in a stateroom passageway, and I kept dragging her along at a rapid pace. "Where are we going?" she asked. "C'mon," I replied. The fact is, I didn't really know. At the end of the passage was a short stairway up to a bulkhead door. We went through and found ourselves outside on a little deck by the lifeboats. The sun had set, but you could still see the frothy wave caps. At the end of the deck was another stairway, and at the top was the entrance to the miniature golf. I still didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but it wasn't miniature golf. There was another way to go, though, even further forward, right along the edge of the bow. Molly was panting from our frantic pace, but she was keeping up. We'd reached the very front of the ship. The image of Leonardo DeCaprio holding Kate Winslet on the bow of the Titanic flashed into my mind. That's what I wanted! Moonlight! Sea spray! Violins! But the forward view was all walled off. The only thing you could see, if you turned around, was the bridge, looming up above us, ominously dark except for the eerie glow from the radar screens. There was a stairway leading up to it, but the sign said "Authorized personnel only." "Kind of not what I was expecting," I said. "Oh, well," she said. She pulled us across to the other side where another deckway led back aft. The wall there was not so high, and we stood for a while, watching the foamy caps and the unbounded emptiness. We had engine noises instead of violins and a stinging wind instead of an enchanted spray. "Do you think they'd even bother to tell us?" she wondered. "Tell us?" "If the world blew itself up." But the wind was just too fierce. We retreated back to the more sheltered parts of the ship. This time Jack and Ciara were in the Salsa Club. They waved us in. "What are you having?" Jack yelled over the music, heading for the bar. Ciara and Molly had to half shout to hear each other. Jack came back with something tall and fruity for Molly and something short and amber colored for me. The music was catchy and persistent. Jack held out his hand and led Molly onto the dance floor. They made a handsome couple: Jack rugged and manly, Molly fresh and pretty. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Molly knew a lot of steps, and she was clearly enjoying herself. I gave Ciara an awkward smile and we walked out to join them. It turned out that Ciara was quite a dancer too. She would lose herself in the music, letting her willowy body become an instrument of its expression. I felt kind of bad that she was stuck having me as her partner, but the dance floor was crowded and she didn't seem to mind. When the song ended, she smiled and put her hand on my arm as she caught her breath. She was attractive, with long, honey-blonde hair and a captivating smile. A bit older than me, but not that much. I tried to picture the two of us going out after we got back home. By the third song it was no longer really clear any more who was dancing with whom. Ciara and Molly were dancing next to each other and laughing together at something one of them had said. Then Ciara turned her attention to Jack, and he gave her a few of the moves that her dancing so richly deserved. They made a striking couple too, in a different way than Jack and Molly. They seemed more appropriate for each other, somehow, a better fit. And there was a genuine cozy affection between them that I could imagine outlasting the cruise. Meanwhile, Molly was dancing beside me now, her freshness and joyful enthusiasm now beamed my way. That seemed more appropriate too. Molly and I finally called it a night. It had been a long, eventful day: mermaids, cacti, sea spray, dancing. We made our way down the corridor to the little room that was beginning to feel more and more like home. I took off my coat. Molly's hair was a bit mussed, but she looked happy, as if her day had been as full and eventful as mine had been. I brought my arms up to give her a little hug. I figured that the rules of cabin etiquette wouldn't begrudge us one little hug. But she stepped into it, and before I knew it we were kissing, a kiss that continued as we shuffled our way toward the bed. We sat down. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran it over her sequined back. She touched my face and let her tongue brush my lips. I stroked her side and whispily brushed her breast. She drew in her breath, then reached behind herself and undid her clasp. Her bodice slipped down like a sequined snake skin, revealing the more luminous, more tender skin beneath. Her breasts were perfect, pale and shy, each one frankly punctuated by a bashful, yearning nipple. I couldn't help but lean in and encircle one of them with my lips, tasting it gently with my own tongue. She held me softly there. The rules of cabin etiquette, it seemed, had been suspended by mutual consent. She lifted herself just enough to slip her gown off the rest of the way. She draped it over the chair and gave me the bashful version of her shrug. We had to get ready for bed after all. I undressed too, placing my clothes on top of hers. She lay down, wearing only her panties. I took off everything and lay down beside her. We glided our hands over each other's arms, over each other's sides, over each other's hips. My penis was sticking out like a sore thumb, but I just let it. I caressed her firm bottom and hitched her closer so that our thighs touched, so that her nipples grazed my chest. I slipped my hand down inside her panties to be even closer to the smooth, cool touch of her skin. Always before, one part of my brain would already have been working out the logistics of getting us back where we would need to go when we were finished. But tonight those concerns were blissfully absent. We were both already right where we needed to be, right in the very bed where we would be spending the night. But there was one concern I couldn't put aside. "I'm afraid I didn't think to bring any protection. Do you think the gift shop might still be open?" "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm protected." We kissed again. She reached down and slipped off her last remaining piece of clothing. So now we both were naked, lying together in each other's arms, in the very bed where we were going to spend the night. It wasn't that I didn't know what to do next, it was just that I was a little bashful to be the one to initiate it. And, truth be told, I was more than happy just to be doing what we were doing, lying together so intimately, so completely within each other's personal space, so fully accepting, so fully accepted. If that was going to be enough for her, it was certainly plenty enough for me. But I didn't object when she knelt up, and straddled my thighs, and took my rigid penis in her hand, and glided her moist vagina down upon it. Neither of us said a word. Partly it was shyness, but partly it was just because there was no need to muddle up with words what our entwined bodies were already saying so well without them. To be continued. By HectorBidon for Literotica.

 For Patreon subscriber Harlie West! Fact of the Day: Dolphins name each other, and call each other by name.  Triple Connections: Graff, Faberge, Cartier THE FIRST TRIVIA QUESTION STARTS AT 01:13 SUPPORT THE SHOW MONTHLY, LISTEN AD-FREE FOR JUST $1 A MONTH: www.Patreon.com/TriviaWithBudds INSTANT DOWNLOAD DIGITAL TRIVIA GAMES ON ETSY, GRAB ONE NOW!  GET A CUSTOM EPISODE FOR YOUR LOVED ONES:  Email ryanbudds@gmail.com Theme song by www.soundcloud.com/Frawsty Bed Music:  "Your Call" Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ http://TriviaWithBudds.comhttp://Facebook.com/TriviaWithBudds http://Instagram.com/ryanbudds Book a party, corporate event, or fundraiser anytime by emailing ryanbudds@gmail.com or use the contact form here: https://www.triviawithbudds.com/contact SPECIAL THANKS TO ALL MY AMAZING PATREON SUBSCRIBERS INCLUDING:   Linda Elswick Ansley Bennett Mom & Mac Lillian Campbell Lynnette Keel Natasha Raina NathalieJerry Loven Jamie Greig Rondell Merritt Sue First Nick Vogelpohl Adam Jacoby Adam Suzan Jeremy Yoder Chelsea Walker Carter A. Fourqurean Tiffany Poplin Bill Bavar Courtney Cassal Daniel Hoisington-McArthur Paula Wetterhahn Justin Cone Steven LongSue FirstKC Khoury Keith MartinTonya CharlesBen Katelyn Turner Ryan Ballantine Justly Maya Brandon Lavin Kathy McHale Selectronica Chuck Nealen Courtney French Nikki Long Jenny Santomauro Jon Handel Mark Zarate Keiva BranniganLaura PalmerLauren Glassman John Taylor Dean Bratton Mona B Pate Hogan Kristy Donald Fuller Erin Burgess Chris Arneson Trenton Sullivan Josh Gregovich Jen and NicJessica Allen Michele Lindemann Ben Stitzel Michael Redman Timothy HeavnerHarlie WestJeff Foust Sarah Snow-BrineRichard Lefdal Rebecca Meredith Leslie Gerhardt Myles Bagby Jenna Leatherman Vernon Heagy Albert Thomas Kimberly Brown Tracy Oldaker Sara Zimmerman Madeleine Garvey Jenni Yetter Alexandra Pepin Brendan JohnB Patrick Leahy Dillon Enderby John Mihaljevic James Brown Christy Shipley Pamela Yoshimura Cody Roslund Clayton Polizzi Alexander Calder Mark Haas Ricky Carney Paul McLaughlin Manny Cortez Casey OConnor Willy Powell Robert Casey Rich Hyjack Matthew Frost Joe Jermolowicz Brian Salyer Greg Bristow Megan Donnelly Jim Fields Mo Martinez Luke Mckay Simon Time Feana Nevel Brian WilliamsJordania of ZeilingriskS

A book fair in Florida becomes the backdrop for a case of international intrigue when Jessica and a mysterious Russian detective investigate the strange link between a stolen Faberge egg and a family member of one of the show attendees.

The ornate eggs that Faberge made for the imperial family of Russia are famous around the world. 52 eggs were made for the imperial family, and the majority of these are still around today, on display around the world in various collections.  However, some of the eggs are still missing and have from time to time been found in the strangest of places.  Take a listen, maybe you'll be the next to come across a long lost egg.

Umetnost na pijaci virtuelnog sveta? Slike poznatih slikara su i dalje vrlo tražene kada se nude na aukcijama. Koje slike su najskuplje plaćene? Kako stoje stvari sa slikama manje poznatih slikara? Za kolike sume one mogu da se kupe i pod kojim uslovima? Možda ćete se iznenaditi kada saznate da to nisu basnoslovne cene kako to mnogi zamišljaju. Naprotiv! O najnovjim trendovima na tržištu likovne umetnosti, sa posebnim osvrtom na digitalnu umetnost (NFT) informišu Vas Saša Bojić i Maja Marić. Von Sasa Bojic.

Too hot not to zoom! The Notes: Mysterious, misty, mid-450's! How the goblins go! Jesus never killed a balrog! Summer Curling 2: Electric Boogaloo! You can buy anything down on Electric Avenue! Electric Avenue is a young man's game! Will's ex-wife didn't appreciate German prostitutes! Nelson recommends Sunny on Apple! How to get a robot high! Nelson's criminal gang has the best snacks! Pretzel Time vs Pretzel Gang! The streets were full of blood and pretzels! Faberge pretzels and their tendency to collapse spacetime! Space oven repair! It's all space microwaves these days! Astronauts, how do you make an English muffin pizza in space!? Landlocked astronauts aka firefighters! Unsolved snack mysteries! Contact Us! Follow Us! Love Us! Email: doubledeucepod@gmail.com Twitter & Instagram: @doubledeucepod Facebook: www.facebook.com/DoubleDeucePod/ Patreon: patreon.com/DoubleDeucePod Also, please subscribe/rate/review/share us! We're on Apple, Android, Libsyn, Stitcher, Google, Spotify, Amazon, Radio.com, RadioPublic, pretty much anywhere they got podcasts, you can find the Deuce! Podcast logo art by Jason Keezer! Find his art online at Keezograms! Intro & Outro featuring Rob Schulte! Check out his many podcasts! Brought to you in part by sponsorship from Courtney Shipley, Official Superfans Stefan Rider and Amber Fraley, and listeners like you! Join a tier on our Patreon! Advertise with us! If you want that good, all-natural focus and energy, our DOUBLEDEUCE20 code still works at www.magicmind.com/doubledeuce for 20% off all purchases and subscriptions. Check out the Lawrence Times's 785 Collective at https://lawrencekstimes.com/785collective/ for a list of local LFK podcasts including this one!  

Elon "Muskrat" Cologne hits the market!Guy McAlester went to the store but stumbled into a real life mystery!MAGA is DEFINITELY a 100% terrorist organization! NO LONGER POLITICAL! MAGA IS A DANGER TO AMERICAN COMMUNITIES EVERYWHERE! A late night committee hearing reveals who the folks in charge truly are! TYPICAL SPOILED BRATSDon Shipley gets in the ass of ANOTHER poser Republican!

Come with me on a journey into the history of archeological revival jewelry, a companion to this month's Deep Dive Wednesday videos. Episode one covers Hellenistic Revival/Neoclassical, Etruscan Revival, and how ancient Scythian jewelry was responsible for the Faberge egg. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/ahjs/support

This week, the 007 Store announced the sale of Bond themed Faberge eggs with an eye-popping price of more than $150,000. It's hardly the only expensive item from the 007 Store.

I talk about another one of my most recent and most profound shower thoughts.

Regent Seven Seas Grandeur is the world's most luxurious ship. There's a US$6.5 million art collection, the only gold-and-jewel encrusted Faberge Egg at sea. Cruise Passenger talks to the man who created Grandeur about how he was told to "blow the budget!". And we've got a limited edition piece of Faberge artwork to giveaway!

Hey Dude, I left you melancholy message about my crazy days before the holidays, along with a sad remembrance of my mom's last Christmas. QUOTE: "At least that's what I call the day after Christmas..." PEOPLE: Dean Whitbread, Doug Mcintyre  PLACES: England, Henry's Tacos, Ernie's Taco House, Casa Vega, El Coyote THINGS: Libsyn, Subaru, Outback, Crosstrek, Faberge egg, Christmas, Christmas Eve, "It's A Wonderful Life", redemption story, Boxing Day, Redeye Radio, KFI, New Years, IBM SOUNDS: wind, footsteps, gravel path, the 5 Freeway, birds, Ming-Ming,  Laguna Sawdust Cowbell Chimes  GENRE: storytelling, personal narrative, personal journal PHOTO: "First Christmas" from an original photo, shot with my iPhone XS RECORDED: December 28, 2023 from the "The Barn" under the flight path of the Bob Hope Airport in Burbank, California GEAR: Sony ICD PX370 digital voice recorder and Sony ECM CS3 "tie-clip" microphone. HYPE: "It's a beatnik kinda literary thing in a podcast cloak of darkness." Timothy Kimo Brien (cohost on Podwrecked and host of Create Art Podcast) DISCLAIMER/WARNING: Proudly presented rough, raw and ragged. Seasoned with salty language and ideas. Not for most people's taste. Please be advised.

Strangers forced to share a cabin on a cruise ship.By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.The waiting area outside the Long Beach cruise terminal was abuzz with bright new outfits and happy chatter. It was enough to make even the most reserved introvert start to feel a bit of excitement.I was standing with Jack and Ciara, two regulars of the social group. Jack was tall and rugged, something to do with landscaping; Ciara tall and willowy, worked in an office of some sort. They weren’t an official couple, as far as I knew, but they seemed to have hooked up for the New Year's Pacific cruise. That was sort of the way the group worked. Thirty somethings, mostly divorced, intent on maintaining the hard playing lifestyle of their twenties, looking for like-minded dating partners to do it with.Jack was explaining the different cruise drink payment plans. I smiled politely and nodded, thinking how different from theirs my life would be when I got to be their age.Denise bustled up in a pretty pastel pantsuit with her clipboard in her hand. She was a travel agent and the mother hen of the group, forty-something and no longer trying so hard to pretend she was any younger. She'd put together this group and made a nice extra income for her troubles.“Hector,” she said, ushering me a step aside, “I’m afraid there’s been a mix up with your reservation. Somehow your single cabin didn’t show up on the final printout.” She gave me a concerned look. “They’re working on it,,  but we may have to double you up with someone.”This came as a bit of a rude surprise. One of the only reasons I’d finally agreed to come on the cruise in the first place had been her assurance that I’d be able to have a single. It wasn’t that I was antisocial really, but I had my limits.“You know Mrs. Pendergast, don’t you?”Mrs. Pendergast was an older woman, well into her sixties. She wasn’t a regular member of the group, but it amused her sometimes to hang with a younger crowd. The group let her tag along to some of their events. I was going to have to share a room with Mrs. Pendergast?“Apparently she got sick and had to cancel at the last minute. So we have an opening. She was sharing a room with, ah;” she double checked her forms; “a Ms. Crenshaw. I don’t know her, but I’m sure she’s very nice. It’s a double room, and you know how it is on a cruise. You don’t spend that much time in your room anyway.”I didn’t even try to return her smile.“They’re still working on your single, of course. I just wanted to let you know the fallback plan.”Not only losing my single, but having to spend the cruise being polite to an old lady? In Denise’s mind, that was what the social group was all about.People were already starting to go into the terminal building when Denise came back, this time with an attractive young woman at her side. I wondered if it was Denise’s daughter, there to see us off.“Hector,” she said, peering at me over the top of her glasses, “this is Molly Crenshaw. I’ve been explaining our predicament.”The girl gave me a weak smile. She was pretty, with long brown hair swept back, wearing white shorts and a light blue top. She didn’t look like she could be a day over twenty-one. Not at all what I had pictured as a travelling companion for Mrs. Pendergast.“It’s a double room,” Denise was explaining. “I’m sure they’ll be able to rig up a partition if need be. But this will be the first cruise for both of you. It will be nice to have a buddy to help you find your way around. I’m sure the two of you will hit it off.”Molly was still looking at me rather uncertainly. This apparently wasn’t exactly what she had signed up for, either. She looked back at Denise. “Well, if his other room got cancelled,”Denise was delighted. The registration mix-up had been solved in an efficient and social-group-positive way. I couldn’t believe she was being so cavalier about putting a guy and a girl who didn’t even know each other into the same room together."They’re still working on my single though, right?”“As far as I know. You’ll be able to check with the Bursar once we get on board.”Denise had more than enough smile for the three of us. They called our area for boarding.“See you on board,” she said, bustling off with her clipboard.Going up the gangway onto the ship itself kind of blew me away. You entered onto the mezzanine level of what looked like the fanciest mall I’d ever seen. There was an atrium that rose several stories high with glass elevators gliding up and down and fancy shops and glittering lights on every different level. On the floor below us a fellow in a tuxedo was playing a grand piano. All of this right in the middle of the ship. Molly’s eyes were as wide as mine.They’d told us to have lunch while the luggage was being brought on. Molly and I had come aboard with a bunch of other social groupers, but they’d all buzzed off one way or another leaving the two of us by ourselves. We found a little sandwich and salad buffet.“So, your first cruise?” I asked. I was pretty sure I’d be able to get the room situation straightened out, but there was no harm in being polite.She assembled a forkful of salad. “Yes, Mrs. Pendergast is a patient at the clinic where I work. She’s pretty chatty, you know. She kept talking about this fantastic cruise she was going on. But she needed a travelling companion to come along and sort of look after her.” She shrugged. “ Mrs. Pendergast offered to cover the cost, if I'd come with. I don’t know, she has a way of getting what she wants.”“Is she all right?” I asked.“Denise says she’s afraid she might be coming down with something. She’s a bit of a hypochondriac. But the tickets are already paid for, and I’m already here, so Denise said I should just come along on the cruise without her.” She gave her little shrug again and took a sip of iced tea. “Your first cruise too?”“I’m not really a member of the social group, actually. I went on a nature hike with them one time and ended up on Denise’s list. So now she sends me emails every time she has some big event. She was kind of persistent this time. I think they needed to sign up a certain number of people in order to get a discount or something.”Molly nodded and stabbed a crouton. “Well, it is a cruise. It should be fun. And it’ll be nice not to have to keep tabs on Mrs. Pendergast all the time. There’s gambling, you know. When we get far enough out to sea.”“You gamble?”“Of course. Poker, black jack. Machines mostly, but sometimes at the tables. I have a system. It’s a lot of fun.”After lunch I asked my way up to the Bursar’s office. Molly came along to make sure that everything worked out. The Bursar looked me up in his computer. Apparently, when Mrs. Pendergast had cancelled, they’d looked to fill the vacancy with someone from our same group. I was the only one in a single, so they moved me in to fill her spot and gave my room to someone else. He double checked, but there weren’t any other singles available. He apologized for the inconvenience and gave me my key card.I was flabbergasted.“Well,” said Molly, “we might as well go check it out at least.”We found our way down to the deck where the cabin was located. The room itself was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A chair, a little night stand, a mirror on the bathroom door, a bed against the wall. That was it. We looked at each other.“Kind of smaller than I would have thought,” I said.“Yeah,” she agreed.I corralled a passing steward.“Um, we were supposed to be getting a double room?” I showed him the printout.“Yes, yes,” he said in his helpful foreign accent. “Very nice double cabin.”“But there’s only one bed.” I said.“Double bed,” he explained. Then he gestured toward the porthole on the wall. “Ocean view!” He smiled, happy to have been of service, and went on about his way.Molly didn’t look altogether convinced.I sighed. “Let me go talk to the Bursar again,”But she was sizing things up. Sunshine was streaming in through the porthole. Our two suitcases had been placed in a little niche beside the bathroom door, side by side."All the other rooms are probably just as small,” she said. “On this level anyway. And they seem to have already given your other room away.” She looked at me. “Do you snore?”It wasn’t a question I was expecting. “I don’t think so. No one’s ever complained.”“Well, Mrs. Pendergast does, apparently. That’s the one thing I’ve been dreading the most.” She looked back at the room. “I guess this is just what double rooms are like on cruise ships. Maybe it’s not so bad. At least you don’t snore. We’re kind of on an adventure anyway. Maybe we should just try and make the best of it.”She made it sound as if sharing a room with a complete stranger of the opposite sex was no bigger a deal than sharing a table with him at lunch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the schedule of the day’s activities as if the issue had already been decided.“Shuffleboard lessons at three o'clock,” she noted. “Bingo at four thirty.”I sat down on the chair. So instead of getting a room of my own I was going to have to share this one? Surely there must be some other alternative. What if,  what if I asked Denise to ask Ciara to move in here with Molly and let me bunk with Jack? Ugh! I cringed at the thought.“A magic show tonight in the forward theatre.” Molly announced; reading more literature.I looked around. How would it even work? The room was so tiny. There was only the one bed.Molly was studying a map of the ship. “What do you think we should do first?” She’d not only accepted the fact that we’d be rooming together, she was ready to head out and start exploring.“Um,  why don’t you just go ahead on your own? I’ve still got a couple things I need to take care of first.”I couldn’t tell if she was a bit hurt that I didn’t want to join her. But she shrugged it off. “Well, OK. Then I guess we can just meet back up here later.”I didn’t really have anything I needed to take care of, I just wanted a little time to sort things out. I was pretty bummed that they’d given away my single. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about Molly’s matter-of-fact-ness. Was she really so used to sharing rooms with random guys?Still, if I did have to share a room with someone, Molly was probably no more objectionable than Jack or Mrs. Pendergast. She was more my age. She was just out of college and I had a few years on her. She seemed pretty easy going. If we’d been thrown together as partners at a workshop breakout session, I wouldn’t have objected.But sharing insights at a breakout session wasn’t exactly the same as sharing a cabin on a cruise ship. I’d had to share rooms with strangers before, but they’d always been guys. What you did was you put on your blinders, you put up your shields, you went about your business, you let them go about theirs. You tried to be polite. At least that’s the way it worked with guys. Did it work that way with girls too?I guess I’d find out.The ship must have cast off soon after we came on board, but so smoothly that we hadn’t even noticed. By the time I found my way up on deck we’d already cleared the harbor and were quite a ways out from land. I stood at the railing and watched the waves roll by. I wondered whether I might get seasick, but the deck was as firm and steady as any sidewalk on the mainland.The ship turned out to be a whole little city unto itself. There was a miniature golf course at one end and a climbing wall at the other. The top deck held two full-sized swimming pools, each already surrounded by sun bathers glistening in cocoa butter. The lower decks held lounges and theaters and eateries and nightclubs. There were shops and kiosks on every level; a sports bar, a wine bar, two piano bars, a margarita bar (“Hi, Jack! Hi, Ciara!”); and any number of different ways to get from any one place to any other: by stairs, by elevator, by main passageway, by side passageway.Later in the afternoon I sat down at a little coffee shop toward the stern of the ship and nursed a cup of lapsang souchong. Seagulls were gliding along in our tailwind. I’d been making good progress on a couple algorithms at work, and I went over some of the key steps in my mind. It was nice being out of the cubicle for a change, sitting in the sunshine, daydreaming instead of coding, watching the seagulls hover and veer.My thoughts eventually wandered back to my room situation. I still couldn’t understand why Molly was being so agreeable about sharing the cabin. It dawned on me that maybe she didn’t think she had any other choice. Maybe she thought that since she was only here as Mrs. Pendergast’s guest, she had to do whatever Denise asked.And so maybe she wasn’t really all that used to sharing rooms with random guys either. Maybe she was just doing what she thought was expected. A fellow shipmate, a sort-of member of the same social group she was sort of a member of, needed a place to bunk. She had an empty spot. Didn’t shipboard etiquette kind of dictate that she offer to share? But then, by the same token, what did shipboard etiquette expect of me?I finished my tea and ambled back toward the front of the ship. A raucous game of volleyball was taking place in one of the pools. Someone called my name.“Are you going back to the room? I forgot my card.”It was Molly. She gave her little shrug. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini. It was fairly conservative, the kind she could wear to the gym, but it called your attention to her shapely legs and her slender tummy. We made our way down the labyrinth of passageways toward our lower deck. The people we passed would have naturally assumed that we were together.“I figured out about dinner,” she said. “Everybody has an assigned time and an assigned table. Ours is in about an hour. We can go together if you want.”After a couple of wrong turns we finally found our corridor and our little room. It hadn’t gotten any bigger in the time we’d been away. But there was a fresh bath towel sitting on the bed, folded into a sort of soft-origami swan.“Look how cute,” Molly said. “The housekeepers must have been in.”She put her things on the nightstand and fiddled in her suitcase for some clothes. “I’m just going to take a quick shower first.” She went into the bathroom, taking the swan along with her. I sat on the foot of the bed and took a look at the schedule. The walls were thin enough that I could hear the water splashing.She came out wrapped in the towel. “It’s too cramped to get dressed in there,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. She looked around the room, a bit awkwardly.So this was one of the guys-and-girls-sharing-a-cabin rules that I wasn’t really familiar with. What was I supposed to do while she got dressed? Step into the bathroom to give her some privacy? Or just ignore her, the way I would if I was sharing the room with a guy?She wasn’t completely sure how to play it either. She turned to face the mirror, but that only put her sideways to me. So she turned all the way around, facing the outer door. She tried to give the impression that changing clothes in front of a cabin mate wasn’t that big a deal. So I tried to follow her lead.I didn’t stare, and she had her back to me, but it was hard not to notice what she was doing. She started by putting on her bra, but as she was pulling it up, her towel slipped, revealing the two round, pretty cheeks of her bottom. She quickly pulled the towel back into place, and I quickly forced my eyes back to the schedule. So it was only with my peripheral vision that I was able to see her stepping into her panties and skirt and buttoning up her blouse.Finally she sat on the chair to fasten her sandals. Our eyes met again. She sighed, then admitted. “I work in a clinic. I often have to help clients get over themselves, when they have to disrobe for an exam, in front of someone they don't know. I think I have better empathy, now. Oh, Dinner is supposed to be smart casual.” she remarked.I took that to mean that my polo shirt didn’t quite cut it. I’d brought a couple button-down shirts, and so I went over and got one from my suitcase. She nodded approvingly and turned to the mirror, fiddling with her hair. I took off my polo shirt and put on the button one.The dining room was immense, with big round tables like in a reception hall. Molly and I were assigned to a table with some of the other people from our group. I let Molly sit next to Ciara. There was nobody on my other side, which was fine with me. Molly and Ciara found some girl stuff to talk about. The general conversation at the table seemed to be about motorcycles. Denise stopped by to see how everyone was doing.Molly had the chicken and I had the fish. We resisted the hard liquor, but we both had a glass of wine with our meal. Valentin, our engaging Bulgarian waiter, brought us the chit. We had both just assumed that wine was included in the meal, but he explained that it would be added to our room bill.“Will they charge it to Mrs. Pendergast?” Molly whispered, afraid they might.“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered back, signing for both of us.The magic show didn’t start until eight o'clock, so after dinner Molly suggested we just wander around. She showed me the little art gallery she’d discovered on deck six where it met the central atrium. Photographs of interesting doorways on old, rustic buildings. Just past the art gallery was a little gift shop. We went in, and Molly looked at the jewelry counter. She asked the lady to bring out a necklace that caught her eye. I leafed through the post cards, but I didn’t really have anyone to send one to.We still had forty-five minutes until the show, so I took Molly up to the miniature golf course. We didn’t bother keeping score. I made a couple lucky shots. Then, on the next-to-the-last hole, Molly’s shot went wild and bounced onto the next green over. It ricocheted off a bumper and coasted down, curving gently, right into the cup. A perfect hole in one into the wrong hole!“Whoa!” I said. “Remind me never to play you for money.”She raised her putter and blew on the end as if it were a smoking rifle barrel. “You should see me at pinball.”The magic show was a lot of fun. The magician wore a black hat and cape and his pretty assistant wore a slinky black dress. They did all the traditional tricks with rings and scarves and giant cards.Then, for the grand finale, the magician announced that he was going to make his assistant disappear right before our very eyes. He had her stand at the front of the stage with her arms up and out to the crowd. He waved his wand and, Presto!, she didn’t disappear, but her dress did! It was just gone! She kept standing there for a second with her breasts completely exposed and nothing covering her at all except a tiny G-string thong. Finally she realized what had happened. She shrieked, covered herself with her hands, and ran offstage, letting us see that her backside was just as shapely as her front.The magician was shocked that his trick had backfired. Shocked! But the audience was applauding wildly, and so he turned and bowed. And as he swept off his hat, what should fall out but the assistant’s little black dress. He picked it up and gave us a sly grin.The assistant came out to take her bow, wrapped in a white ship’s towel just like the one Molly had been wearing. When she saw what the magician had in his hand, she snatched it back from him with a nasty glare. The crowd ate it up. Molly was laughing as much as I was.After the show we went back up on deck and strolled a while in the cool night air. The ship was plowing along through moonlit waves, stars twinkling in the sky. Toward the stern, lively dance music was thumping up from the nightclubs below. We found our way down to check it out. We spotted Jack and Ciara in the hip-hop club amidst the flashing strobe lights and pulsing lasers. Jack raised his glass and Ciara called something we didn’t quite catch.Further on was the salsa club, throbbing with its own level of intensity. Then came the golden oldies club, somewhat more subdued. And finally a relatively quiet lounge where we sat down and shared a bottle of sparkling water.“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Molly said. “I never thought there would be so many different things going on. A whole resort on a single ship! And they can just hoist up the anchor and sail us away to wherever they want to take us.”I had to agree. “And the way it’s so completely self-contained. I mean, what could we possibly want that they aren’t already completely stocked up on? The whole rest of the world could just go ahead and blow itself up and we wouldn’t even notice.”It had been a pleasant evening. And Denise had been right: it had been fun to have a buddy to share it with. But now we were heading back to our little room, and we had to turn our attention to the more mundane aspects of cabin sharing. Molly went to the bathroom first, and then I did, and then neither of us was quite sure how to proceed. It was becoming pretty clear that she wasn’t any more familiar with cabin sharing than I was.Both of us kept looking at the bed. It was up against the outer wall, and almost as long as the cabin was wide. It was going to be awkward getting to the side against the wall without disturbing the other person. Presumably the cabin-sharing etiquette book would have had something to say.I decided that one of us should at least try to pretend that they knew what they were doing.“Would you mind if I took the side with the ocean view?” That seemed like the most gentlemanly arrangement.She didn’t argue, and in fact I think she was relieved to have the issue resolved. She opened her suitcase and brought out a pair of frilly, sky-blue pajamas. She looked around again and then turned her back like she had before.I sat down at the foot of the bed. I hadn’t even thought to bring any pajamas myself. Well, there wasn’t much I could do about it now. I took off my shoes and socks and tried not to pay any undue attention to what she was doing.She stepped into her pajama bottoms and pulled them up under her skirt before taking it off. Then she pulled off her blouse and put on her pajama top so quickly that I caught only the briefest glimpse of her bra strap. Then she reached in under the top, unhooked her bra, and fished it out.Meanwhile, I’d taken off my shirt and pants. I figured I could slip under the covers without her seeing me in my underwear. But then I realized that she’d had a perfect view in the bathroom-door mirror all along. She didn’t let on, though. That seemed to be the universal rule of awkward cabin sharing, for girls as well as for guys. Just go about your business and let your cabin mate go about theirs.I crawled up onto the far side of the bed, trying not to notice if she was paying any attention. She turned off the light and got in on her side.I’d had to share beds with other guys before on occasion. What you do is turn your back, keep yourself perfectly still, and imagine that there is an invisible force field that insulates your half of the bed from the entire rest of the universe. I quickly discovered, however, that this technique is not that effective when the person lying beside you is a pretty girl in frilly pajamas. I got such a hard-on that I was sure she could sense it, even though we had our backs turned.So I thought about my algorithms. I rehearsed an upcoming seminar presentation of their salient features. And then I rehearsed it again. And then I rehearsed it again.Sunlight was shining in through the porthole again when I woke up the next morning. Molly was still asleep, but I needed to pee. I edged out of bed, trying my best not to disturb her. I went to the bathroom, then quietly got dressed and slipped out of the room.There were only a few people up on deck at this hour. We’d sailed during the night and were now anchored at the entrance to the harbor at Catalina Island. It was a beautiful morning, the water a rich cerulean blue, the harbor dotted with rows of pretty boats. I came back down and found a dining room that served breakfast. I had a bite and brought back coffee and a roll for Molly.She was up, but still in her pajamas. I told her about the island and tried to show her through the porthole. The way the ship was facing, though, we were only able to see the rugged hills of the island and not the harbor itself.By mid-morning she had talked me into going in to shore with her. It was like being transported back in time to the sunny southern California you see in old-time newsreels: palm trees, cute bungalows, handsome, sun-tanned people sitting at outdoor cafes or lounging under colorful beach umbrellas. We walked all the way along the beachfront to the palatial ballroom at the end, admiring its lovely art-deco mosaics of naked mermaids cavorting amidst swirling kelp forests and playful schools of fish.The huge round floor of the ballroom itself was dark and empty on this weekday morning, but photos along the walls showed elegantly dressed couples waltzing at the annual New Year’s Eve ball. Molly was enchanted.“Let’s come back for it, want to?”“I’m afraid my ballroom dancing is a little rusty.”“Well, you’ll have to brush up then.”We strolled back along the main boulevard amidst tourists and tradesmen and shopping housewives. We looked in the windows of the boutiques and souvenir shops and had lunch at one of the sidewalk cafes. Molly filled me in on all the latest gossip about the interns and nurses at her clinic. I told her a bit about my algorithms. I may have gotten a little carried away, actually, but she did her best to follow along.Our map showed a botanical garden a couple miles out of town. Molly was game, so after lunch we rented a tourist cart and headed off to look for it. I drove and Molly navigated, and after a few wrong turns we found ourselves bumping along into the dusty interior of the island.It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. It had never even occurred to me that there were botanical gardens devoted almost entirely to cactus. I’d certainly never imagined there were so many different varieties: towering suaros like in the cowboy movies; rough organ pipes that shimmered like coral formations on the floor of some strange alien sea; fuzzy white phalluses that tried to lure you into thinking they were cuddly enough to pet; plump barrel cactus with swirling patterns of pristine spikes as geometrically perfect as Faberge eggs.Molly discovered a sprawling specimen that must have taken up a half a city block. It was covered with prickly green Mickey Mouse ears, and on the whole rugged plant there was one lone ear that held a single tiny delicate yellow flower. “That’s what I want for my corsage,” she said. “When we come back for New Year's Eve.”We eventually bumped our way back into town and dropped off the cart. The tender back to the ship was pretty full, and Molly and I had to press up shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench. She closed her eyes in the afternoon sunshine.“A perfect day,” she murmured. “And tonight’s the gala dinner. And gambling!”“Gala dinner?”She opened one eye just enough to give me a look. “You were supposed to bring a sport coat. It was in the brochure.”When we got back to the room we found our towel on the nightstand, folded into the shape of a jungle cat, ready to pounce. I had brought my sports coat, but it was pretty creased from being crammed in my suitcase. Molly hung it in the bathroom when she went in to take her shower. Then when she was done I took my own, making sure to give her plenty of time to get dressed.I cracked the door to see if the coast was clear. She was making her final adjustments in the mirror and stepped aside to let me out. She was wearing a lilac gown with a sequined top and a long swishy skirt.“I got it on sale,” she shrugged. But I could tell from the way she kept looking at herself in the mirror that she was pretty pleased with it.Now I was the one who had to get dressed in front of her. I just went at it cabin-buddy style, turning my back and pulling things up under my towel like she had done. When I fetched my sports coat from the bathroom, the creases were a little less noticeable.We made our way up to the dining room. It was nice, actually, being a little dressed up. I found myself walking a little taller, standing a little straighter. Molly took my arm as we made our way to the table, and everyone paused to look.Molly and Ciara chatted about shopping on the island. It turned out that Jack knew something about cacti from his landscaping work and was interested to hear about the botanical garden. The appetizers were oysters on the half shell. It was my first time eating them, and Molly showed me what to do.By the time that dinner was over, the ship had gotten far enough out to sea that the casino was open. Molly walked right in as if she knew what she was doing. She got ten dollars' worth of quarters, and I pitched in another ten, trying my best to match her air of confident sophistication.She went to one of the poker machines, and I drew up a stool beside her. “So what’s this system of yours? Or is it a secret?”“I only play until I run out of quarters. That way I never lose more than I’m willing to spend.”I didn’t think that that was what people meant by a “system,” but I didn’t say anything. I watched her play a few hands. The machine would deal out five cards. She would select which ones she wanted to keep, and the machine would replace the others.“I usually just bet a quarter. But if we’re going to pool our money, we can bet two at a time, OK?”I finally figured out how it worked. If we got anything less than a pair of jacks, the machine would keep our money. If we got jacks or better, it would give us our money back. If we got an even better hand, like two pairs or three of a kind, it would pay out according to a table posted on the screen. All the way up to a hundred bucks for a royal flush. We lost our first few quarters, but then we got three aces, and the machine clunked us six shiny new quarters back out.Molly would study each hand carefully before making her selection. She pretty much chose the same cards that I would have chosen, except she was a little over-optimistic about our chances of getting a straight or a flush.On one hand the machine dealt us the jack and king of diamonds, along with a pair of eights. She eagerly selected to keep the jack and the king.“No, no,” I told her. “Keep the eights.”“But we have a chance for a royal flush.”“But the odds are better for getting another eight.”She gave me her look of patient exasperation.“Because look,” I tried to say.But she wasn’t particularly interested in my analysis. "OK, Mr. Algorithm.” She changed the selection. The machine dealt us a queen, a three, and a six and beeped the forlorn tone that meant “better luck next time.”Molly flashed me her told-you-so eyebrows.“Well, we wouldn’t have gotten the royal flush either.”“Not if we didn’t even try!”There was one moment of genuine excitement when we got a full house, sixes and queens. The machine clanged like crazy and quarters came pouring out. But eventually every one of them got re-deposited, never to be seen again. It wasn’t really gambling so much as just playing a video game. An enjoyable one, though. There was the dress-up aspect, the battle of wits, the allure of the hundred-dollar jackpot. Molly certainly enjoyed playing, and I enjoyed watching her.I noticed that it was almost time for the show.“Juggling?” Molly wasn’t so sure. She rattled our cup. “We still have a few quarters left.”“Yes, juggling! I’ll have you know that I minored in juggling in college. Come on. It’ll be fun.”The show was in the forward theatre again, right next to the casino. The Flying Garbanzo Brothers! Hup Hup! Four strapping guys with streaming hair and Frank Zappa mustaches, dressed in colorful gypsy blouses and billowing pantaloons. They juggled everything from tennis balls to bowling pins to pineapples to power tools.One of the brothers, Yakov, had a rakish, devil-may-care attitude and was always grinning at the ladies in the audience. In one of the acts, as balls were whizzing back and forth across the stage, he started making eyes at a blonde in the front row. He began paying less and less attention to his juggling, occasionally letting a ball fly past him, which one of the other brothers would then have to lurch out of formation to keep in play.Finally he just gave up on the juggling altogether and sat down on the edge of the stage, chatting the lady up. The other brothers were flailing frantically to keep all the balls in the air. They began to retire them, one by one, but somehow the very last ball went out of control and arched way up high toward the front of the stage. Yakov casually reached his hand out to the side and caught it without even looking.“Ladies and gentlemen!” announced Ripov, the black brother with dreads, “For our grand finale, a feat of blistering dexterity so flagrantly dangerous that it has never before been attempted within the enclosed confines of a luxury liner!” The brothers proceeded to arrange a panoply of torches and hoops and bales of combustible material all around the stage. Yakov came out sporting a mischievous grin and lugging a big red can, labeled ‘gasoline.’ Just as he was about to douse the first bale, the stagehand stormed in, a short oriental fellow in a white lab coat and thick black glasses, squawking in a barely intelligible accent and waving the ubiquitous ship safety placard, the one with the picture of the lifesaver on it.Yakov’s grin collapsed into a sneer, but he put down the can. “Still never attempted,” he muttered under his breath. The brothers juggled the torches anyway, unlit but unwieldy, back and forth through the hoops and over the bales. Suddenly red and orange crepe-paper streamers unfurled and rose up, flickering like flames and giving the impression, at least, of a roaring inferno. All in all, it was enough to get your blood pumping.When the show was over there was a bit of a traffic jam getting out of the theater. I grabbed Molly’s hand and dragged her toward a less crowded side exit. Hup hup! We found ourselves in a stateroom passageway, and I kept dragging her along at a rapid pace.“Where are we going?” she asked.“C'mon,” I replied. The fact is, I didn’t really know. At the end of the passage was a short stairway up to a bulkhead door. We went through and found ourselves outside on a little deck by the lifeboats. The sun had set, but you could still see the frothy wave caps.At the end of the deck was another stairway, and at the top was the entrance to the miniature golf. I still didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but it wasn’t miniature golf. There was another way to go, though, even further forward, right along the edge of the bow.Molly was panting from our frantic pace, but she was keeping up. We’d reached the very front of the ship. The image of Leonardo DeCaprio holding Kate Winslet on the bow of the Titanic flashed into my mind. That’s what I wanted! Moonlight! Sea spray! Violins!But the forward view was all walled off. The only thing you could see, if you turned around, was the bridge, looming up above us, ominously dark except for the eerie glow from the radar screens. There was a stairway leading up to it, but the sign said “Authorized personnel only.”“Kind of not what I was expecting,” I said.“Oh, well,” she said. She pulled us across to the other side where another deckway led back aft. The wall there was not so high, and we stood for a while, watching the foamy caps and the unbounded emptiness. We had engine noises instead of violins and a stinging wind instead of an enchanted spray.“Do you think they’d even bother to tell us?” she wondered.“Tell us?”“If the world blew itself up.”But the wind was just too fierce. We retreated back to the more sheltered parts of the ship.This time Jack and Ciara were in the Salsa Club. They waved us in.“What are you having?” Jack yelled over the music, heading for the bar. Ciara and Molly had to half shout to hear each other. Jack came back with something tall and fruity for Molly and something short and amber colored for me.The music was catchy and persistent. Jack held out his hand and led Molly onto the dance floor. They made a handsome couple: Jack rugged and manly, Molly fresh and pretty. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Molly knew a lot of steps, and she was clearly enjoying herself. I gave Ciara an awkward smile and we walked out to join them.It turned out that Ciara was quite a dancer too. She would lose herself in the music, letting her willowy body become an instrument of its expression. I felt kind of bad that she was stuck having me as her partner, but the dance floor was crowded and she didn’t seem to mind.When the song ended, she smiled and put her hand on my arm as she caught her breath. She was attractive, with long, honey-blonde hair and a captivating smile. A bit older than me, but not that much. I tried to picture the two of us going out after we got back home.By the third song it was no longer really clear any more who was dancing with whom. Ciara and Molly were dancing next to each other and laughing together at something one of them had said. Then Ciara turned her attention to Jack, and he gave her a few of the moves that her dancing so richly deserved. They made a striking couple too, in a different way than Jack and Molly. They seemed more appropriate for each other, somehow, a better fit. And there was a genuine cozy affection between them that I could imagine outlasting the cruise.Meanwhile, Molly was dancing beside me now, her freshness and joyful enthusiasm now beamed my way. That seemed more appropriate too.Molly and I finally called it a night. It had been a long, eventful day: mermaids, cacti, sea spray, dancing. We made our way down the corridor to the little room that was beginning to feel more and more like home.I took off my coat. Molly’s hair was a bit mussed, but she looked happy, as if her day had been as full and eventful as mine had been.I brought my arms up to give her a little hug. I figured that the rules of cabin etiquette wouldn’t begrudge us one little hug. But she stepped into it, and before I knew it we were kissing, a kiss that continued as we shuffled our way toward the bed.We sat down. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran it over her sequined back. She touched my face and let her tongue brush my lips. I stroked her side and whispily brushed her breast. She drew in her breath, then reached behind herself and undid her clasp. Her bodice slipped down like a sequined snake skin, revealing the more luminous, more tender skin beneath.Her breasts were perfect, pale and shy, each one frankly punctuated by a bashful, yearning nipple. I couldn’t help but lean in and encircle one of them with my lips, tasting it gently with my own tongue. She held me softly there. The rules of cabin etiquette, it seemed, had been suspended by mutual consent.She lifted herself just enough to slip her gown off the rest of the way. She draped it over the chair and gave me the bashful version of her shrug. We had to get ready for bed after all. I undressed too, placing my clothes on top of hers. She lay down, wearing only her panties. I took off everything and lay down beside her.We glided our hands over each other’s arms, over each other’s sides, over each other’s hips. My penis was sticking out like a sore thumb, but I just let it. I caressed her firm bottom and hitched her closer so that our thighs touched, so that her nipples grazed my chest. I slipped my hand down inside her panties to be even closer to the smooth, cool touch of her skin.Always before, one part of my brain would already have been working out the logistics of getting us back where we would need to go when we were finished. But tonight those concerns were blissfully absent. We were both already right where we needed to be, right in the very bed where we would be spending the night.But there was one concern I couldn’t put aside. “I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring any protection. Do you think the gift shop might still be open?”“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’m protected.”We kissed again. She reached down and slipped off her last remaining piece of clothing. So now we both were naked, lying together in each other’s arms, in the very bed where we were going to spend the night.It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to do next, it was just that I was a little bashful to be the one to initiate it. And, truth be told, I was more than happy just to be doing what we were doing, lying together so intimately, so completely within each other’s personal space, so fully accepting, so fully accepted. If that was going to be enough for her, it was certainly plenty enough for me.But I didn’t object when she knelt up, and straddled my thighs, and took my rigid penis in her hand, and glided her moist vagina down upon it.Neither of us said a word. Partly it was shyness, but partly it was just because there was no need to muddle up with words what our entwined bodies were already saying so well without them.To be continued.By HectorBidon for Literotica.

Strangers forced to share a cabin on a cruise ship.By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.The waiting area outside the Long Beach cruise terminal was abuzz with bright new outfits and happy chatter. It was enough to make even the most reserved introvert start to feel a bit of excitement.I was standing with Jack and Ciara, two regulars of the social group. Jack was tall and rugged, something to do with landscaping; Ciara tall and willowy, worked in an office of some sort. They weren’t an official couple, as far as I knew, but they seemed to have hooked up for the New Year's Pacific cruise. That was sort of the way the group worked. Thirty somethings, mostly divorced, intent on maintaining the hard playing lifestyle of their twenties, looking for like-minded dating partners to do it with.Jack was explaining the different cruise drink payment plans. I smiled politely and nodded, thinking how different from theirs my life would be when I got to be their age.Denise bustled up in a pretty pastel pantsuit with her clipboard in her hand. She was a travel agent and the mother hen of the group, forty-something and no longer trying so hard to pretend she was any younger. She'd put together this group and made a nice extra income for her troubles.“Hector,” she said, ushering me a step aside, “I’m afraid there’s been a mix up with your reservation. Somehow your single cabin didn’t show up on the final printout.” She gave me a concerned look. “They’re working on it,,  but we may have to double you up with someone.”This came as a bit of a rude surprise. One of the only reasons I’d finally agreed to come on the cruise in the first place had been her assurance that I’d be able to have a single. It wasn’t that I was antisocial really, but I had my limits.“You know Mrs. Pendergast, don’t you?”Mrs. Pendergast was an older woman, well into her sixties. She wasn’t a regular member of the group, but it amused her sometimes to hang with a younger crowd. The group let her tag along to some of their events. I was going to have to share a room with Mrs. Pendergast?“Apparently she got sick and had to cancel at the last minute. So we have an opening. She was sharing a room with, ah;” she double checked her forms; “a Ms. Crenshaw. I don’t know her, but I’m sure she’s very nice. It’s a double room, and you know how it is on a cruise. You don’t spend that much time in your room anyway.”I didn’t even try to return her smile.“They’re still working on your single, of course. I just wanted to let you know the fallback plan.”Not only losing my single, but having to spend the cruise being polite to an old lady? In Denise’s mind, that was what the social group was all about.People were already starting to go into the terminal building when Denise came back, this time with an attractive young woman at her side. I wondered if it was Denise’s daughter, there to see us off.“Hector,” she said, peering at me over the top of her glasses, “this is Molly Crenshaw. I’ve been explaining our predicament.”The girl gave me a weak smile. She was pretty, with long brown hair swept back, wearing white shorts and a light blue top. She didn’t look like she could be a day over twenty-one. Not at all what I had pictured as a travelling companion for Mrs. Pendergast.“It’s a double room,” Denise was explaining. “I’m sure they’ll be able to rig up a partition if need be. But this will be the first cruise for both of you. It will be nice to have a buddy to help you find your way around. I’m sure the two of you will hit it off.”Molly was still looking at me rather uncertainly. This apparently wasn’t exactly what she had signed up for, either. She looked back at Denise. “Well, if his other room got cancelled,”Denise was delighted. The registration mix-up had been solved in an efficient and social-group-positive way. I couldn’t believe she was being so cavalier about putting a guy and a girl who didn’t even know each other into the same room together."They’re still working on my single though, right?”“As far as I know. You’ll be able to check with the Bursar once we get on board.”Denise had more than enough smile for the three of us. They called our area for boarding.“See you on board,” she said, bustling off with her clipboard.Going up the gangway onto the ship itself kind of blew me away. You entered onto the mezzanine level of what looked like the fanciest mall I’d ever seen. There was an atrium that rose several stories high with glass elevators gliding up and down and fancy shops and glittering lights on every different level. On the floor below us a fellow in a tuxedo was playing a grand piano. All of this right in the middle of the ship. Molly’s eyes were as wide as mine.They’d told us to have lunch while the luggage was being brought on. Molly and I had come aboard with a bunch of other social groupers, but they’d all buzzed off one way or another leaving the two of us by ourselves. We found a little sandwich and salad buffet.“So, your first cruise?” I asked. I was pretty sure I’d be able to get the room situation straightened out, but there was no harm in being polite.She assembled a forkful of salad. “Yes, Mrs. Pendergast is a patient at the clinic where I work. She’s pretty chatty, you know. She kept talking about this fantastic cruise she was going on. But she needed a travelling companion to come along and sort of look after her.” She shrugged. “ Mrs. Pendergast offered to cover the cost, if I'd come with. I don’t know, she has a way of getting what she wants.”“Is she all right?” I asked.“Denise says she’s afraid she might be coming down with something. She’s a bit of a hypochondriac. But the tickets are already paid for, and I’m already here, so Denise said I should just come along on the cruise without her.” She gave her little shrug again and took a sip of iced tea. “Your first cruise too?”“I’m not really a member of the social group, actually. I went on a nature hike with them one time and ended up on Denise’s list. So now she sends me emails every time she has some big event. She was kind of persistent this time. I think they needed to sign up a certain number of people in order to get a discount or something.”Molly nodded and stabbed a crouton. “Well, it is a cruise. It should be fun. And it’ll be nice not to have to keep tabs on Mrs. Pendergast all the time. There’s gambling, you know. When we get far enough out to sea.”“You gamble?”“Of course. Poker, black jack. Machines mostly, but sometimes at the tables. I have a system. It’s a lot of fun.”After lunch I asked my way up to the Bursar’s office. Molly came along to make sure that everything worked out. The Bursar looked me up in his computer. Apparently, when Mrs. Pendergast had cancelled, they’d looked to fill the vacancy with someone from our same group. I was the only one in a single, so they moved me in to fill her spot and gave my room to someone else. He double checked, but there weren’t any other singles available. He apologized for the inconvenience and gave me my key card.I was flabbergasted.“Well,” said Molly, “we might as well go check it out at least.”We found our way down to the deck where the cabin was located. The room itself was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. A chair, a little night stand, a mirror on the bathroom door, a bed against the wall. That was it. We looked at each other.“Kind of smaller than I would have thought,” I said.“Yeah,” she agreed.I corralled a passing steward.“Um, we were supposed to be getting a double room?” I showed him the printout.“Yes, yes,” he said in his helpful foreign accent. “Very nice double cabin.”“But there’s only one bed.” I said.“Double bed,” he explained. Then he gestured toward the porthole on the wall. “Ocean view!” He smiled, happy to have been of service, and went on about his way.Molly didn’t look altogether convinced.I sighed. “Let me go talk to the Bursar again,”But she was sizing things up. Sunshine was streaming in through the porthole. Our two suitcases had been placed in a little niche beside the bathroom door, side by side."All the other rooms are probably just as small,” she said. “On this level anyway. And they seem to have already given your other room away.” She looked at me. “Do you snore?”It wasn’t a question I was expecting. “I don’t think so. No one’s ever complained.”“Well, Mrs. Pendergast does, apparently. That’s the one thing I’ve been dreading the most.” She looked back at the room. “I guess this is just what double rooms are like on cruise ships. Maybe it’s not so bad. At least you don’t snore. We’re kind of on an adventure anyway. Maybe we should just try and make the best of it.”She made it sound as if sharing a room with a complete stranger of the opposite sex was no bigger a deal than sharing a table with him at lunch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the schedule of the day’s activities as if the issue had already been decided.“Shuffleboard lessons at three o'clock,” she noted. “Bingo at four thirty.”I sat down on the chair. So instead of getting a room of my own I was going to have to share this one? Surely there must be some other alternative. What if,  what if I asked Denise to ask Ciara to move in here with Molly and let me bunk with Jack? Ugh! I cringed at the thought.“A magic show tonight in the forward theatre.” Molly announced; reading more literature.I looked around. How would it even work? The room was so tiny. There was only the one bed.Molly was studying a map of the ship. “What do you think we should do first?” She’d not only accepted the fact that we’d be rooming together, she was ready to head out and start exploring.“Um,  why don’t you just go ahead on your own? I’ve still got a couple things I need to take care of first.”I couldn’t tell if she was a bit hurt that I didn’t want to join her. But she shrugged it off. “Well, OK. Then I guess we can just meet back up here later.”I didn’t really have anything I needed to take care of, I just wanted a little time to sort things out. I was pretty bummed that they’d given away my single. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about Molly’s matter-of-fact-ness. Was she really so used to sharing rooms with random guys?Still, if I did have to share a room with someone, Molly was probably no more objectionable than Jack or Mrs. Pendergast. She was more my age. She was just out of college and I had a few years on her. She seemed pretty easy going. If we’d been thrown together as partners at a workshop breakout session, I wouldn’t have objected.But sharing insights at a breakout session wasn’t exactly the same as sharing a cabin on a cruise ship. I’d had to share rooms with strangers before, but they’d always been guys. What you did was you put on your blinders, you put up your shields, you went about your business, you let them go about theirs. You tried to be polite. At least that’s the way it worked with guys. Did it work that way with girls too?I guess I’d find out.The ship must have cast off soon after we came on board, but so smoothly that we hadn’t even noticed. By the time I found my way up on deck we’d already cleared the harbor and were quite a ways out from land. I stood at the railing and watched the waves roll by. I wondered whether I might get seasick, but the deck was as firm and steady as any sidewalk on the mainland.The ship turned out to be a whole little city unto itself. There was a miniature golf course at one end and a climbing wall at the other. The top deck held two full-sized swimming pools, each already surrounded by sun bathers glistening in cocoa butter. The lower decks held lounges and theaters and eateries and nightclubs. There were shops and kiosks on every level; a sports bar, a wine bar, two piano bars, a margarita bar (“Hi, Jack! Hi, Ciara!”); and any number of different ways to get from any one place to any other: by stairs, by elevator, by main passageway, by side passageway.Later in the afternoon I sat down at a little coffee shop toward the stern of the ship and nursed a cup of lapsang souchong. Seagulls were gliding along in our tailwind. I’d been making good progress on a couple algorithms at work, and I went over some of the key steps in my mind. It was nice being out of the cubicle for a change, sitting in the sunshine, daydreaming instead of coding, watching the seagulls hover and veer.My thoughts eventually wandered back to my room situation. I still couldn’t understand why Molly was being so agreeable about sharing the cabin. It dawned on me that maybe she didn’t think she had any other choice. Maybe she thought that since she was only here as Mrs. Pendergast’s guest, she had to do whatever Denise asked.And so maybe she wasn’t really all that used to sharing rooms with random guys either. Maybe she was just doing what she thought was expected. A fellow shipmate, a sort-of member of the same social group she was sort of a member of, needed a place to bunk. She had an empty spot. Didn’t shipboard etiquette kind of dictate that she offer to share? But then, by the same token, what did shipboard etiquette expect of me?I finished my tea and ambled back toward the front of the ship. A raucous game of volleyball was taking place in one of the pools. Someone called my name.“Are you going back to the room? I forgot my card.”It was Molly. She gave her little shrug. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini. It was fairly conservative, the kind she could wear to the gym, but it called your attention to her shapely legs and her slender tummy. We made our way down the labyrinth of passageways toward our lower deck. The people we passed would have naturally assumed that we were together.“I figured out about dinner,” she said. “Everybody has an assigned time and an assigned table. Ours is in about an hour. We can go together if you want.”After a couple of wrong turns we finally found our corridor and our little room. It hadn’t gotten any bigger in the time we’d been away. But there was a fresh bath towel sitting on the bed, folded into a sort of soft-origami swan.“Look how cute,” Molly said. “The housekeepers must have been in.”She put her things on the nightstand and fiddled in her suitcase for some clothes. “I’m just going to take a quick shower first.” She went into the bathroom, taking the swan along with her. I sat on the foot of the bed and took a look at the schedule. The walls were thin enough that I could hear the water splashing.She came out wrapped in the towel. “It’s too cramped to get dressed in there,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. She looked around the room, a bit awkwardly.So this was one of the guys-and-girls-sharing-a-cabin rules that I wasn’t really familiar with. What was I supposed to do while she got dressed? Step into the bathroom to give her some privacy? Or just ignore her, the way I would if I was sharing the room with a guy?She wasn’t completely sure how to play it either. She turned to face the mirror, but that only put her sideways to me. So she turned all the way around, facing the outer door. She tried to give the impression that changing clothes in front of a cabin mate wasn’t that big a deal. So I tried to follow her lead.I didn’t stare, and she had her back to me, but it was hard not to notice what she was doing. She started by putting on her bra, but as she was pulling it up, her towel slipped, revealing the two round, pretty cheeks of her bottom. She quickly pulled the towel back into place, and I quickly forced my eyes back to the schedule. So it was only with my peripheral vision that I was able to see her stepping into her panties and skirt and buttoning up her blouse.Finally she sat on the chair to fasten her sandals. Our eyes met again. She sighed, then admitted. “I work in a clinic. I often have to help clients get over themselves, when they have to disrobe for an exam, in front of someone they don't know. I think I have better empathy, now. Oh, Dinner is supposed to be smart casual.” she remarked.I took that to mean that my polo shirt didn’t quite cut it. I’d brought a couple button-down shirts, and so I went over and got one from my suitcase. She nodded approvingly and turned to the mirror, fiddling with her hair. I took off my polo shirt and put on the button one.The dining room was immense, with big round tables like in a reception hall. Molly and I were assigned to a table with some of the other people from our group. I let Molly sit next to Ciara. There was nobody on my other side, which was fine with me. Molly and Ciara found some girl stuff to talk about. The general conversation at the table seemed to be about motorcycles. Denise stopped by to see how everyone was doing.Molly had the chicken and I had the fish. We resisted the hard liquor, but we both had a glass of wine with our meal. Valentin, our engaging Bulgarian waiter, brought us the chit. We had both just assumed that wine was included in the meal, but he explained that it would be added to our room bill.“Will they charge it to Mrs. Pendergast?” Molly whispered, afraid they might.“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered back, signing for both of us.The magic show didn’t start until eight o'clock, so after dinner Molly suggested we just wander around. She showed me the little art gallery she’d discovered on deck six where it met the central atrium. Photographs of interesting doorways on old, rustic buildings. Just past the art gallery was a little gift shop. We went in, and Molly looked at the jewelry counter. She asked the lady to bring out a necklace that caught her eye. I leafed through the post cards, but I didn’t really have anyone to send one to.We still had forty-five minutes until the show, so I took Molly up to the miniature golf course. We didn’t bother keeping score. I made a couple lucky shots. Then, on the next-to-the-last hole, Molly’s shot went wild and bounced onto the next green over. It ricocheted off a bumper and coasted down, curving gently, right into the cup. A perfect hole in one into the wrong hole!“Whoa!” I said. “Remind me never to play you for money.”She raised her putter and blew on the end as if it were a smoking rifle barrel. “You should see me at pinball.”The magic show was a lot of fun. The magician wore a black hat and cape and his pretty assistant wore a slinky black dress. They did all the traditional tricks with rings and scarves and giant cards.Then, for the grand finale, the magician announced that he was going to make his assistant disappear right before our very eyes. He had her stand at the front of the stage with her arms up and out to the crowd. He waved his wand and, Presto!, she didn’t disappear, but her dress did! It was just gone! She kept standing there for a second with her breasts completely exposed and nothing covering her at all except a tiny G-string thong. Finally she realized what had happened. She shrieked, covered herself with her hands, and ran offstage, letting us see that her backside was just as shapely as her front.The magician was shocked that his trick had backfired. Shocked! But the audience was applauding wildly, and so he turned and bowed. And as he swept off his hat, what should fall out but the assistant’s little black dress. He picked it up and gave us a sly grin.The assistant came out to take her bow, wrapped in a white ship’s towel just like the one Molly had been wearing. When she saw what the magician had in his hand, she snatched it back from him with a nasty glare. The crowd ate it up. Molly was laughing as much as I was.After the show we went back up on deck and strolled a while in the cool night air. The ship was plowing along through moonlit waves, stars twinkling in the sky. Toward the stern, lively dance music was thumping up from the nightclubs below. We found our way down to check it out. We spotted Jack and Ciara in the hip-hop club amidst the flashing strobe lights and pulsing lasers. Jack raised his glass and Ciara called something we didn’t quite catch.Further on was the salsa club, throbbing with its own level of intensity. Then came the golden oldies club, somewhat more subdued. And finally a relatively quiet lounge where we sat down and shared a bottle of sparkling water.“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Molly said. “I never thought there would be so many different things going on. A whole resort on a single ship! And they can just hoist up the anchor and sail us away to wherever they want to take us.”I had to agree. “And the way it’s so completely self-contained. I mean, what could we possibly want that they aren’t already completely stocked up on? The whole rest of the world could just go ahead and blow itself up and we wouldn’t even notice.”It had been a pleasant evening. And Denise had been right: it had been fun to have a buddy to share it with. But now we were heading back to our little room, and we had to turn our attention to the more mundane aspects of cabin sharing. Molly went to the bathroom first, and then I did, and then neither of us was quite sure how to proceed. It was becoming pretty clear that she wasn’t any more familiar with cabin sharing than I was.Both of us kept looking at the bed. It was up against the outer wall, and almost as long as the cabin was wide. It was going to be awkward getting to the side against the wall without disturbing the other person. Presumably the cabin-sharing etiquette book would have had something to say.I decided that one of us should at least try to pretend that they knew what they were doing.“Would you mind if I took the side with the ocean view?” That seemed like the most gentlemanly arrangement.She didn’t argue, and in fact I think she was relieved to have the issue resolved. She opened her suitcase and brought out a pair of frilly, sky-blue pajamas. She looked around again and then turned her back like she had before.I sat down at the foot of the bed. I hadn’t even thought to bring any pajamas myself. Well, there wasn’t much I could do about it now. I took off my shoes and socks and tried not to pay any undue attention to what she was doing.She stepped into her pajama bottoms and pulled them up under her skirt before taking it off. Then she pulled off her blouse and put on her pajama top so quickly that I caught only the briefest glimpse of her bra strap. Then she reached in under the top, unhooked her bra, and fished it out.Meanwhile, I’d taken off my shirt and pants. I figured I could slip under the covers without her seeing me in my underwear. But then I realized that she’d had a perfect view in the bathroom-door mirror all along. She didn’t let on, though. That seemed to be the universal rule of awkward cabin sharing, for girls as well as for guys. Just go about your business and let your cabin mate go about theirs.I crawled up onto the far side of the bed, trying not to notice if she was paying any attention. She turned off the light and got in on her side.I’d had to share beds with other guys before on occasion. What you do is turn your back, keep yourself perfectly still, and imagine that there is an invisible force field that insulates your half of the bed from the entire rest of the universe. I quickly discovered, however, that this technique is not that effective when the person lying beside you is a pretty girl in frilly pajamas. I got such a hard-on that I was sure she could sense it, even though we had our backs turned.So I thought about my algorithms. I rehearsed an upcoming seminar presentation of their salient features. And then I rehearsed it again. And then I rehearsed it again.Sunlight was shining in through the porthole again when I woke up the next morning. Molly was still asleep, but I needed to pee. I edged out of bed, trying my best not to disturb her. I went to the bathroom, then quietly got dressed and slipped out of the room.There were only a few people up on deck at this hour. We’d sailed during the night and were now anchored at the entrance to the harbor at Catalina Island. It was a beautiful morning, the water a rich cerulean blue, the harbor dotted with rows of pretty boats. I came back down and found a dining room that served breakfast. I had a bite and brought back coffee and a roll for Molly.She was up, but still in her pajamas. I told her about the island and tried to show her through the porthole. The way the ship was facing, though, we were only able to see the rugged hills of the island and not the harbor itself.By mid-morning she had talked me into going in to shore with her. It was like being transported back in time to the sunny southern California you see in old-time newsreels: palm trees, cute bungalows, handsome, sun-tanned people sitting at outdoor cafes or lounging under colorful beach umbrellas. We walked all the way along the beachfront to the palatial ballroom at the end, admiring its lovely art-deco mosaics of naked mermaids cavorting amidst swirling kelp forests and playful schools of fish.The huge round floor of the ballroom itself was dark and empty on this weekday morning, but photos along the walls showed elegantly dressed couples waltzing at the annual New Year’s Eve ball. Molly was enchanted.“Let’s come back for it, want to?”“I’m afraid my ballroom dancing is a little rusty.”“Well, you’ll have to brush up then.”We strolled back along the main boulevard amidst tourists and tradesmen and shopping housewives. We looked in the windows of the boutiques and souvenir shops and had lunch at one of the sidewalk cafes. Molly filled me in on all the latest gossip about the interns and nurses at her clinic. I told her a bit about my algorithms. I may have gotten a little carried away, actually, but she did her best to follow along.Our map showed a botanical garden a couple miles out of town. Molly was game, so after lunch we rented a tourist cart and headed off to look for it. I drove and Molly navigated, and after a few wrong turns we found ourselves bumping along into the dusty interior of the island.It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. It had never even occurred to me that there were botanical gardens devoted almost entirely to cactus. I’d certainly never imagined there were so many different varieties: towering suaros like in the cowboy movies; rough organ pipes that shimmered like coral formations on the floor of some strange alien sea; fuzzy white phalluses that tried to lure you into thinking they were cuddly enough to pet; plump barrel cactus with swirling patterns of pristine spikes as geometrically perfect as Faberge eggs.Molly discovered a sprawling specimen that must have taken up a half a city block. It was covered with prickly green Mickey Mouse ears, and on the whole rugged plant there was one lone ear that held a single tiny delicate yellow flower. “That’s what I want for my corsage,” she said. “When we come back for New Year's Eve.”We eventually bumped our way back into town and dropped off the cart. The tender back to the ship was pretty full, and Molly and I had to press up shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench. She closed her eyes in the afternoon sunshine.“A perfect day,” she murmured. “And tonight’s the gala dinner. And gambling!”“Gala dinner?”She opened one eye just enough to give me a look. “You were supposed to bring a sport coat. It was in the brochure.”When we got back to the room we found our towel on the nightstand, folded into the shape of a jungle cat, ready to pounce. I had brought my sports coat, but it was pretty creased from being crammed in my suitcase. Molly hung it in the bathroom when she went in to take her shower. Then when she was done I took my own, making sure to give her plenty of time to get dressed.I cracked the door to see if the coast was clear. She was making her final adjustments in the mirror and stepped aside to let me out. She was wearing a lilac gown with a sequined top and a long swishy skirt.“I got it on sale,” she shrugged. But I could tell from the way she kept looking at herself in the mirror that she was pretty pleased with it.Now I was the one who had to get dressed in front of her. I just went at it cabin-buddy style, turning my back and pulling things up under my towel like she had done. When I fetched my sports coat from the bathroom, the creases were a little less noticeable.We made our way up to the dining room. It was nice, actually, being a little dressed up. I found myself walking a little taller, standing a little straighter. Molly took my arm as we made our way to the table, and everyone paused to look.Molly and Ciara chatted about shopping on the island. It turned out that Jack knew something about cacti from his landscaping work and was interested to hear about the botanical garden. The appetizers were oysters on the half shell. It was my first time eating them, and Molly showed me what to do.By the time that dinner was over, the ship had gotten far enough out to sea that the casino was open. Molly walked right in as if she knew what she was doing. She got ten dollars' worth of quarters, and I pitched in another ten, trying my best to match her air of confident sophistication.She went to one of the poker machines, and I drew up a stool beside her. “So what’s this system of yours? Or is it a secret?”“I only play until I run out of quarters. That way I never lose more than I’m willing to spend.”I didn’t think that that was what people meant by a “system,” but I didn’t say anything. I watched her play a few hands. The machine would deal out five cards. She would select which ones she wanted to keep, and the machine would replace the others.“I usually just bet a quarter. But if we’re going to pool our money, we can bet two at a time, OK?”I finally figured out how it worked. If we got anything less than a pair of jacks, the machine would keep our money. If we got jacks or better, it would give us our money back. If we got an even better hand, like two pairs or three of a kind, it would pay out according to a table posted on the screen. All the way up to a hundred bucks for a royal flush. We lost our first few quarters, but then we got three aces, and the machine clunked us six shiny new quarters back out.Molly would study each hand carefully before making her selection. She pretty much chose the same cards that I would have chosen, except she was a little over-optimistic about our chances of getting a straight or a flush.On one hand the machine dealt us the jack and king of diamonds, along with a pair of eights. She eagerly selected to keep the jack and the king.“No, no,” I told her. “Keep the eights.”“But we have a chance for a royal flush.”“But the odds are better for getting another eight.”She gave me her look of patient exasperation.“Because look,” I tried to say.But she wasn’t particularly interested in my analysis. "OK, Mr. Algorithm.” She changed the selection. The machine dealt us a queen, a three, and a six and beeped the forlorn tone that meant “better luck next time.”Molly flashed me her told-you-so eyebrows.“Well, we wouldn’t have gotten the royal flush either.”“Not if we didn’t even try!”There was one moment of genuine excitement when we got a full house, sixes and queens. The machine clanged like crazy and quarters came pouring out. But eventually every one of them got re-deposited, never to be seen again. It wasn’t really gambling so much as just playing a video game. An enjoyable one, though. There was the dress-up aspect, the battle of wits, the allure of the hundred-dollar jackpot. Molly certainly enjoyed playing, and I enjoyed watching her.I noticed that it was almost time for the show.“Juggling?” Molly wasn’t so sure. She rattled our cup. “We still have a few quarters left.”“Yes, juggling! I’ll have you know that I minored in juggling in college. Come on. It’ll be fun.”The show was in the forward theatre again, right next to the casino. The Flying Garbanzo Brothers! Hup Hup! Four strapping guys with streaming hair and Frank Zappa mustaches, dressed in colorful gypsy blouses and billowing pantaloons. They juggled everything from tennis balls to bowling pins to pineapples to power tools.One of the brothers, Yakov, had a rakish, devil-may-care attitude and was always grinning at the ladies in the audience. In one of the acts, as balls were whizzing back and forth across the stage, he started making eyes at a blonde in the front row. He began paying less and less attention to his juggling, occasionally letting a ball fly past him, which one of the other brothers would then have to lurch out of formation to keep in play.Finally he just gave up on the juggling altogether and sat down on the edge of the stage, chatting the lady up. The other brothers were flailing frantically to keep all the balls in the air. They began to retire them, one by one, but somehow the very last ball went out of control and arched way up high toward the front of the stage. Yakov casually reached his hand out to the side and caught it without even looking.“Ladies and gentlemen!” announced Ripov, the black brother with dreads, “For our grand finale, a feat of blistering dexterity so flagrantly dangerous that it has never before been attempted within the enclosed confines of a luxury liner!” The brothers proceeded to arrange a panoply of torches and hoops and bales of combustible material all around the stage. Yakov came out sporting a mischievous grin and lugging a big red can, labeled ‘gasoline.’ Just as he was about to douse the first bale, the stagehand stormed in, a short oriental fellow in a white lab coat and thick black glasses, squawking in a barely intelligible accent and waving the ubiquitous ship safety placard, the one with the picture of the lifesaver on it.Yakov’s grin collapsed into a sneer, but he put down the can. “Still never attempted,” he muttered under his breath. The brothers juggled the torches anyway, unlit but unwieldy, back and forth through the hoops and over the bales. Suddenly red and orange crepe-paper streamers unfurled and rose up, flickering like flames and giving the impression, at least, of a roaring inferno. All in all, it was enough to get your blood pumping.When the show was over there was a bit of a traffic jam getting out of the theater. I grabbed Molly’s hand and dragged her toward a less crowded side exit. Hup hup! We found ourselves in a stateroom passageway, and I kept dragging her along at a rapid pace.“Where are we going?” she asked.“C'mon,” I replied. The fact is, I didn’t really know. At the end of the passage was a short stairway up to a bulkhead door. We went through and found ourselves outside on a little deck by the lifeboats. The sun had set, but you could still see the frothy wave caps.At the end of the deck was another stairway, and at the top was the entrance to the miniature golf. I still didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but it wasn’t miniature golf. There was another way to go, though, even further forward, right along the edge of the bow.Molly was panting from our frantic pace, but she was keeping up. We’d reached the very front of the ship. The image of Leonardo DeCaprio holding Kate Winslet on the bow of the Titanic flashed into my mind. That’s what I wanted! Moonlight! Sea spray! Violins!But the forward view was all walled off. The only thing you could see, if you turned around, was the bridge, looming up above us, ominously dark except for the eerie glow from the radar screens. There was a stairway leading up to it, but the sign said “Authorized personnel only.”“Kind of not what I was expecting,” I said.“Oh, well,” she said. She pulled us across to the other side where another deckway led back aft. The wall there was not so high, and we stood for a while, watching the foamy caps and the unbounded emptiness. We had engine noises instead of violins and a stinging wind instead of an enchanted spray.“Do you think they’d even bother to tell us?” she wondered.“Tell us?”“If the world blew itself up.”But the wind was just too fierce. We retreated back to the more sheltered parts of the ship.This time Jack and Ciara were in the Salsa Club. They waved us in.“What are you having?” Jack yelled over the music, heading for the bar. Ciara and Molly had to half shout to hear each other. Jack came back with something tall and fruity for Molly and something short and amber colored for me.The music was catchy and persistent. Jack held out his hand and led Molly onto the dance floor. They made a handsome couple: Jack rugged and manly, Molly fresh and pretty. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Molly knew a lot of steps, and she was clearly enjoying herself. I gave Ciara an awkward smile and we walked out to join them.It turned out that Ciara was quite a dancer too. She would lose herself in the music, letting her willowy body become an instrument of its expression. I felt kind of bad that she was stuck having me as her partner, but the dance floor was crowded and she didn’t seem to mind.When the song ended, she smiled and put her hand on my arm as she caught her breath. She was attractive, with long, honey-blonde hair and a captivating smile. A bit older than me, but not that much. I tried to picture the two of us going out after we got back home.By the third song it was no longer really clear any more who was dancing with whom. Ciara and Molly were dancing next to each other and laughing together at something one of them had said. Then Ciara turned her attention to Jack, and he gave her a few of the moves that her dancing so richly deserved. They made a striking couple too, in a different way than Jack and Molly. They seemed more appropriate for each other, somehow, a better fit. And there was a genuine cozy affection between them that I could imagine outlasting the cruise.Meanwhile, Molly was dancing beside me now, her freshness and joyful enthusiasm now beamed my way. That seemed more appropriate too.Molly and I finally called it a night. It had been a long, eventful day: mermaids, cacti, sea spray, dancing. We made our way down the corridor to the little room that was beginning to feel more and more like home.I took off my coat. Molly’s hair was a bit mussed, but she looked happy, as if her day had been as full and eventful as mine had been.I brought my arms up to give her a little hug. I figured that the rules of cabin etiquette wouldn’t begrudge us one little hug. But she stepped into it, and before I knew it we were kissing, a kiss that continued as we shuffled our way toward the bed.We sat down. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran it over her sequined back. She touched my face and let her tongue brush my lips. I stroked her side and whispily brushed her breast. She drew in her breath, then reached behind herself and undid her clasp. Her bodice slipped down like a sequined snake skin, revealing the more luminous, more tender skin beneath.Her breasts were perfect, pale and shy, each one frankly punctuated by a bashful, yearning nipple. I couldn’t help but lean in and encircle one of them with my lips, tasting it gently with my own tongue. She held me softly there. The rules of cabin etiquette, it seemed, had been suspended by mutual consent.She lifted herself just enough to slip her gown off the rest of the way. She draped it over the chair and gave me the bashful version of her shrug. We had to get ready for bed after all. I undressed too, placing my clothes on top of hers. She lay down, wearing only her panties. I took off everything and lay down beside her.We glided our hands over each other’s arms, over each other’s sides, over each other’s hips. My penis was sticking out like a sore thumb, but I just let it. I caressed her firm bottom and hitched her closer so that our thighs touched, so that her nipples grazed my chest. I slipped my hand down inside her panties to be even closer to the smooth, cool touch of her skin.Always before, one part of my brain would already have been working out the logistics of getting us back where we would need to go when we were finished. But tonight those concerns were blissfully absent. We were both already right where we needed to be, right in the very bed where we would be spending the night.But there was one concern I couldn’t put aside. “I’m afraid I didn’t think to bring any protection. Do you think the gift shop might still be open?”“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’m protected.”We kissed again. She reached down and slipped off her last remaining piece of clothing. So now we both were naked, lying together in each other’s arms, in the very bed where we were going to spend the night.It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to do next, it was just that I was a little bashful to be the one to initiate it. And, truth be told, I was more than happy just to be doing what we were doing, lying together so intimately, so completely within each other’s personal space, so fully accepting, so fully accepted. If that was going to be enough for her, it was certainly plenty enough for me.But I didn’t object when she knelt up, and straddled my thighs, and took my rigid penis in her hand, and glided her moist vagina down upon it.Neither of us said a word. Partly it was shyness, but partly it was just because there was no need to muddle up with words what our entwined bodies were already saying so well without them.To be continued.By HectorBidon for Literotica.

Q: What do you get when your amateur sleuthing duo is a journalist and her semi-reformed jewel thief husband? A: Diamonds, a priceless Faberge egg, murder, MI6, romance, and surprises! This week on Crime Wave: Daniella Bernett, author of the long-running Emmeline Kirby/Gregory Longdon mystery series visits to talk about Betrayed by the Truth. Emmeline and Gregory become targets after a desperate stranger asks them to deliver a fortune in rare red diamonds—taking the reader on a breakneck chase from Madrid to London to Switzerland. Visit www.daniellabernett.com or follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008802318282 or on Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/40690254-daniella-bernett #podcast #author #interview #authors #CrimeWavePodcast #authorsontheair #podcast #podcaster #authors #authorsofig #authorsofinstagram #authorinterview #writingcommunity #authorsontheair #suspensebooks #authorssupportingauthors #thrillerbooks #suspense #wip #writers #writersinspiration #books #bookrecommendations #bookaddict #bookaddicted #bookaddiction #bibliophile #read #amreading #lovetoread #BonnarSpring #BonnarSpringBooks #bookouture #thrillers #DaniellaBernett #BetrayedbytheTruth

Q: What do you get when your amateur sleuthing duo is a journalist and her semi-reformed jewel thief husband? A: Diamonds, a priceless Faberge egg, murder, MI6, romance, and surprises! This week on Crime Wave: Daniella Bernett, author of the long-running Emmeline Kirby/Gregory Longdon mystery series visits to talk about Betrayed by the Truth. Emmeline and Gregory become targets after a desperate stranger asks them to deliver a fortune in rare red diamonds—taking the reader on a breakneck chase from Madrid to London to Switzerland. Visit www.daniellabernett.com or follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008802318282 or on Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/40690254-daniella-bernett #podcast #author #interview #authors #CrimeWavePodcast #authorsontheair #podcast #podcaster #authors #authorsofig #authorsofinstagram #authorinterview #writingcommunity #authorsontheair #suspensebooks #authorssupportingauthors #thrillerbooks #suspense #wip #writers #writersinspiration #books #bookrecommendations #bookaddict #bookaddicted #bookaddiction #bibliophile #read #amreading #lovetoread #BonnarSpring #BonnarSpringBooks #bookouture #thrillers #DaniellaBernett #BetrayedbytheTruth

What are the fragrances you reach for when recovering from illness, an anxiety attack, or even during a stay in hospital? In this episode we're discussing the perfumes that help us feel better, and delving in to the post bag (okay, DMs) to explore requests from listeners who are desperately seeking nostalgic, now sadly discontinued, scents - Faberge's BABE, Impulse's Spice Girls and Parfumerie Generale Bois Blond's. What are their #perfumeprescriptions and why did we choose them? Listen to find out, and let us know what YOU would have suggested! Our choices of fragrances for recovery:Suzy:@sisleyparisofficial Eau de Campagne @clarinsuk Eau Dynamisante@ruthmastenbroekperfume Dagian@thameenfragrance Fanfare Nicola:@clarinsuk Eau Dynamisante@thenueco Forest LungsNostalgic listener prescriptions:@vancleefarpels First@jovoymayfair Gardez Moi @whind Amber Tangerine @escentric_molecules 01 + Mandarin@commodity Gold @parfumsdusita Erawan@houseofsarahbaker Bascule

What Is a Faberge Egg? Join us today as we learn about the beautiful works of art. Sources: https://blog.artsper.com/en/lifestyle/what-is-a-faberge-egg/  https://www.britannica.com/art/Faberge-egg   https://www.faberge.com/the-world-of-faberge/the-imperial-eggs  Send us listener mail!  Send an audio message: anchor.fm/inquisikids-daily/message  Send an email: podcast@inquisikids.com   

In this episode of “In Stride,” Sinead is joined by Grand Prix dressage rider JJ Tate. Jessica Jo “JJ” Tate is a USDF bronze, silver, and gold medalist that has trained over 29 horses to the FEI levels, 8 of those being Grand Prix horses. JJ has been long listed for the World Equestrian Games and represented the United States in the 2007 FEI World Breeding Championships for Young Dressage Horses in Verden, Germany. JJ more recently won the Dressage at Devon World Cup Grand Prix in 2018 and the Global Dressage Festival CDI4* Grand Prix Freestyle in 2020 on her longtime partner Faberge. JJ is also the founder of Team Tate Academy, an online training platform for dressage riders. In this episode, JJ discusses various topics related to mindfulness, including: • Being diagnosed with breast cancer and how that changed her perspective of the world. • The role meditation has played in helping her become the best version of herself. • Having integrity and content in the riding so that we are serving the horse and not our ego. • The connection between natural horsemanship, classical dressage, and eventing. • How Team Tate Academy has allowed her to give back to the sport by sharing the great education she received. Join JJ and Sinead in this exciting conversation on connecting with ourselves and our horses.

Sorry for the audio snafu guys. New things happening. Kris and Jake talk about almost no news and decided to chat projects, and cars. Check out Automotive Anonymous Here! https://www.autoanon.com/ Join the drivers club: www.overcrestproductions.com/driversclub --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/overcrest/support

Canadian philanthropist Charles Bronfman is one of 15 signatories to an open letter to Israel's prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, which sounds the alarm over the new government's push to reform the judiciary. Bronfman, who created the Birthright program that sends young Jews to visit Israel, says he didn't write the letter himself. But his name tops the list of uber-wealthy North American Jews, which includes Daniel Lubetzky, the founder of the KIND energy bar company; Lester Crown, who owns the Chicago Bulls and Maytag; and Marcia Riklis, heir to the late Faberge and Carnival Cruise fortune of her late father, corporate raider Meshulam Riklis. Bronfman has never been a Netanyahu supporter, and feels the Israeli leader wouldn't talk to him on the phone anyway about his concerns that “the Zionist enterprise is in danger”. Bronfman joins _The CJN Daily _from his Florida home to talk about the threats he believes are affecting Israel's founding democratic principles. What we talked about:. Read more about Charles Bronfman's public disputes with Benjamin Netanyahu's government in The CJN. Charles Bronfman at 90: On Birthright, saving the Jewish State, antisemitism and the Montreal Expos, on The CJN Daily Charles Bronfman memoir is released, in The CJN. Credits: The CJN Daily is written and hosted by Ellin Bessner (@ebessner on Twitter). Zachary Kauffman is the producer. Michael Fraiman is the executive producer. Our theme music is by Dov Beck-Levine. Our title sponsor is Metropia. We're a member of The CJN Podcast Network. To subscribe to this podcast, please watch this video. Donate to The CJN and receive a charitable tax receipt by clicking here.

The Tzars of Russia adored their decorative Easter eggs made by the House of Faberge. In the same way, God counts the people he rescued from Egypt to be his treasured people. Also: Pastor Bryan accidentally invades CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. True story.

The fucking metaverse is experimental. Larva Labs founders Matt Hall and John Watkinson know firsthand how toying around with silly “what if”s can lead to the next big thing. From early forays into app design and game-building to the creation and evolution of CryptoPunks—the so-called “Faberge egg of NFTs”—Matt and John walk us through their partnership and Yuga's eventual acquisition of CryptoPunks and Meebits. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Season 2 Episode 4 MAT BERGEL Props Team Deakins is so pleased to welcome props maestro Mat Bergel (ROBIN HOOD, HUGO, TRAINSPOTTING) to the podcast. Mat starts this conversation by detailing how he got into the movie business through managing restaurants, and landed in the props department. He explains why some of the hardest work for the props team involve eating, drinking, and smoking scenes. We talk about the different kinds of acting styles that relate to props, and why some actors latch onto them, while others seem to dismiss them out of hand. Then things get exciting with tales of jostled Faberge eggs, missing Rolex watches, and a stolen Picasso! You won't want to miss this one!

Rowboat theft, unlikely Faberge eggs, an offensive book title, the most celebrated goal in history, a naked pool party, a Black Country butcher and Franz Beckenbauer's chat-line all feature in the story of the 1974 World Cup in West Germany. Joining James Cook (@jamesecook) and Paul Savage (@comedysavage) is comedian and author Eddy Brimson (@EddyBrimson) who may or may not have picked the wrong World Cup. Support us at ko-fi.com/worldcupofworldcups and email worldcupofworldcups@gmail.com

Kathleen opens the show drinking a Topo Chico Exotic Pineapple Hard Seltzer, which is her favorite flavor so far. “GOOD BAD FOOD”: In her quest for new and delicious not-so-nutritious junk food AND in continuing her search for the best Ranch, Kathleen samples Target's Market Pantry Ranch Dressing, which she absolutely loves because she thinks it's fantastically basic. She moves on to sample Lay's Poppables Southwest Ranch Potato Snacks, which she thinks take away from the crispy joy of a regular Lay's chip and don't really taste like Ranch. She finishes her tasting with Golden Grahams S'Mores Remix, which she likes especially since it's too hot outside for her to host a campfire and make real S'Mores.THE QUEEN'S COURT: Kathleen gives updates on the Queens: Queen Stevie Nicks is the hero in a new comic included in the “Female Force” series from TidalWave Comics and has just announced new Fall 2022 Tour dates and Tanya Tucker is extremely busy on her summer tour.UPDATES: Kathleen gives updates on the North Carolina missing Zebra cobra owner, WeWork's Adam Neumann's new business venture, and Netflix users continue to bail on their subscriptions. FABERGE EGG FOUND ON YACHT: In maintaining her obsession with Russian oligarch yachts, Kathleen reads an article about an extremely rare Faberge egg that was recently seized on an impounded Russian superyacht owned by Suleiman Kerimov.“HOLY SHIT THEY FOUND IT”: Kathleen is amazed to read about the discovery of an ancient fortress in Iraq that may be a lost royal city, and a Chinese Magic Mirror in the basement of the Cincinnati Art Museum.KILLER MONKEYS: Kathleen is horrified reading yet another article detailing an incident in India where an infant was hurled off the roof of a 3-story house by a monkey. The country has seen a significant increase in the number of attacks on people by monkey gangs. MCDONALD'S vs DAIRY QUEEN SIGN WARS: Kathleen laughs reading the antics involved in a “sign war” in the Missouri city of Marshfield, where the local McDonald's and Dairy Queen started a roast of each other's restaurants on their marquees. BEACH BALL SAVES MAN'S LIFE: Kathleen reads an article about a tourist in Greece who was pulled out to sea by strong currents, and after a number of hours passed, he was declared lost at sea. The man was saved when a child's deflating beach ball floated towards him, which he used as a buoy until his rescue. SOUTH CAROLINA'S ALEX MURDAUGH DENIED BOND: Kathleen has been obsessed with the details in the story of the Murdaugh Murders which takes place in South Carolina. She's thrilled to read that Alex Murdaugh has been denied bond after allegations of misappropriate funds, and recommends that everyone absolutely subscribe to and listen in on her friend and journalist Mandy Matney's podcast “The Murdaugh Murders” wherever you get podcasts. WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEK: Kathleen recommends watching “McMillion$” on HBO Max.SEE KATHLEEN LIVE: See Kathleen live on her “Do You Have Any Ranch?” Tour. Tickets available at kathleenmadigan.com/tour See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Patrick is a celebrated artist who has had his work shown in galleries all over the world, and featured alongside artists such as Sir Anthony Gormley, Gavin Turk, Shepherd Fairey, and many more. He has exhibited in a number of shows, and his pieces appear in the private collections of well-known and respected collectors. In 2020, he appeared on Sky Arts Portrait Artist of the Year show, and was awarded the Galerie Heimat & NG Art Creative Residency Prize which saw him spend a month this summer in the South of France. In addition, Patrick has worked with a number of brands including Faberge, ITV, and Bentley. As a little boy, Patrick was taken into long-term foster care and much of his creative work now deals with the idea of identity and ‘fitting in'. He recognises those themes as universal and he seeks to explore what makes people do what they do to have a sense of belonging. As Patrick says, “the sense of being in a tribe is all around us”. We talk about some of Patrick's early experiences, and the difficulties of growing up, when children can be so cruel; the relief of moving away to college and a fresh start; his realisation that he was naturally good at art; and a life, and a mother, which taught him the importance of simply being kind. SOCIAL MEDIA @happymarlolife @rebekah_clark78 @patrickmoraleslee WEBSITES www.happymarlo.com www.patrickmoraleslee.co.uk

As we cover issue 15, we say goodbye to a character we barely got to know- Monet's Faberge egg. #GoneTooSoon Oh, also, Madrox is kidnapped and brainwashed. Join us as we see how he gets out of it!

Octopussy! Faberge eggs, precious jewels, manhunts, floating palaces – and the first Bond movie filmed in India - that means . . . Gobinda and other characters need to have beautiful, authentic turbans . . .and today, we talk with Del Singh who was hired by Eon Productions to make sure Gobinda's turbans were perfect! So much goes into making great movies and details like this are what enhance the films! Ideas? Email: Info@SpyMovieNavigator.com  Website Episode Page: https://bit.ly/3mlIzdI  

Episode 2 of 2 Treasure's cracking open the secret of the "The Lost Imperial Faberge Eggs", an egg hunt that will change your life. Kristin and Reily give the clues leasing to the fabulous, Imperial Faberge missing eggs, and come to the fall of the Russian Imperial Family. You do not want to miss it! And if you have not listened to our first episode on The lost Faberge eggs, Please go and listen first (on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, google podcasts, or literally wherever you like to listen. ) Videos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8bTa_rzFNI (Rock Crystal Egg) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QO7BwiT0V6w (Anastasia Clip ) *please rate and review us on apple podcasts, spotify or where ever you listen.* Follow us on: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/treasurepodcast/ (@treasurepodcast) Email us you personal treasures: Apodcasttreasure@gmail.com Twitter: @TheTreasurePod PayPal: https://paypal.me/treasurepod?country.x=US&locale.x=en_US (@TreasurePod ) Sources: https://www.esquiremag.ph/the-good-life/what-she-wants/tsar-nicholas-ii-tsarita-alexandra-love-story-a2149-20180721-lfrm (https://www.esquiremag.ph/the-good-life/what-she-wants/tsar-nicholas-ii-tsarita-alexandra-love-story-a2149-20180721-lfrm) https://fabergediscoveries.com/news/2019/4/9/eight-rules-for-discovering-faberg-imperial-eggs-and-their-surprises https://spartacus-educational.com/RUSalexandra.htm

Episode 1 of 2 A pure gem of a story, Faberge's Imperial Eggs are making sure Reily, Kristin and the crew are on their toes and looking for some of the most valuable treasures that have been "lost" to history.. Come with us to crack the egg, maybe find an egg worth over 50 million and investigate the inception of the treasure- The First set of the Lost Faberge Russian Imperial Eggs.

Lucy and the Tsar Lucy served as second officer on a 747 operated by Trans-Oceanic Airlines. Twice a week she flew from Dallas to Leningrad; with brief layovers in New York and Brussels. She had been a second officer for five years. Lucy was looking forward to promotion to first officer. She would be the second woman to command a 747 for Trans-Oceanic. Her performance reviews were always exceptional. Never had Trans-Oceanic Airlines treated her differently than any other pilot. The glass ceiling seemed nonexistent. Lucy, as a highly paid professional airline pilot, owned a beautiful 5000 square foot home in Dallas where she lived with her son, daughter and a full- time housekeeper/nanny. She was happy. Her future was unlimited. At forty years of age she was approaching the apex of her professional career. Her layover in Leningrad was usually two days. Lucy would recover from the inevitable jet lag by visiting the great museums of the time of the Tsars. Her favorite was the Hermitage, which was once the Tsar's summer palace. To the museum she always brought along her Nikon single lens reflex camera that recorded each picture with very high resolution. She used the Nikon to photograph the magnificent treasures stolen by the Bolsheviks from the Tsar. The fast lens and digital enhancement allowed her to obtain images without using a flash. Lucy would spend evenings in her hotel sorting her photographs into categories on her lap top. She had collections of close-up shots of Faberge royal Easter eggs; of oil paintings by Gaugin, Degas, Van Gogh and Picasso; and photos of fine works of art made by native Russian craftsmen unknown in the West. Lucy converted the settlement check to US currency Travelers Checks. She placed the Travelers Checks in her overnight bag on the airplane. When she landed, as part of a well-known airline crew, her luggage was not inspected by the local customs officials. The Travelers Checks, better than cash, entered the new Russia without hindrance. Lucy immediately went to the dealer appointed by the Hermitage and purchased the Fabergé bird she lusted for paying only 200,000 US Dollars in Travelers checks. With the remaining $50,00 she purchased two Fabergé silver cigarette cases and a small Picasso drawing in pencil signed and dated by the artist. The bird is displayed prominently over Lucy's mantelpiece and she used the Fabergé cigarette case to hold note papers and a fountain pen. Lucy was lucky. If anyone at Edward Lloyd's Insurance Company had gone to the Dallas public library, they could have found similar photographs of the same items in any one of several books on the Hermitage collection housed at the library. They did not. Lucy was promoted to Captain. She now commands a Trans-Oceanic 747 that flies three times a week nonstop from Dallas to London's Heathrow airport. She is starting a collection of photographs from the Queen's Museum at Buckingham Palace. (c) 2022 Barry Zalma & ClaimSchool, Inc. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/barry-zalma/support

This collection of articles, edited by Matthew Romaniello, Alison Smith,  Tricia Starks, takes up the history of material culture over the past several centuries of Russian history. Widely diverse objects such as maps, textiles, building materials, cigarette cases,fish guts (yes...), samovars, samizdat, and even the T-34 tank are viewed in light of their role in Russian society. Hence the collection's striking and unusual title: The Life Cycle of Russian Things: From Fish Guts to Faberge, 1600 to the Present (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022).   Daniel Peris is Senior Vice President at Federated Hermes in Pittsburgh. He can be reached at DanielxPeris@gmail.com or via Twitter @HistoryInvestor. His History and Investing blog and Keep Calm & Carry On Investing podcast are at https://strategicdividendinves... Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/eastern-european-studies

This collection of articles, edited by Matthew Romaniello, Alison Smith,  Tricia Starks, takes up the history of material culture over the past several centuries of Russian history. Widely diverse objects such as maps, textiles, building materials, cigarette cases,fish guts (yes...), samovars, samizdat, and even the T-34 tank are viewed in light of their role in Russian society. Hence the collection's striking and unusual title: The Life Cycle of Russian Things: From Fish Guts to Faberge, 1600 to the Present (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022).   Daniel Peris is Senior Vice President at Federated Hermes in Pittsburgh. He can be reached at DanielxPeris@gmail.com or via Twitter @HistoryInvestor. His History and Investing blog and Keep Calm & Carry On Investing podcast are at https://strategicdividendinves... Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

From deadly space sprinkles to undersea Faberge eggs to the risks posed by flying tortoise shells, we're talking about unintended consequences in distant places. The recent lunar eclipse has us looking to the sky, where we see ... a ton of debris. A Russian anti-satellite test gifted Earth's orbit with a lot of shrapnel. Astronauts on the International Space Station had to hide out in "lifeboats" probably trying not to imagine that scene from Gravity.  The whole affair got us thinking about how our orbit is getting crowded by more & more government and commercial satellites, raising the specter of "Kessler syndrome" — an unfortunate outbreak of space junk with long-term effects including not being able to go to space anymore. Then it's down to the depths of the ocean, where little potato rocks called "polymetallic nodules" may offer a source of metals necessary for all our EV needs, without all the mining. The news media is certainly in favor! We look at how San Diego's NBC and ABC news go gaga for nodules and the adventurous band of explorers going to collect 'em. (The nodules, not the news shows.) But these lovely lumps may not be so environmentally swell after all, say environmentalists. (Also, did you know there's an international group just dealing with the seabed, AKA Earth's basement?) Finally our trip ends up in the Mojave, where we talk desert tortoises and solar farms and ask if we can go anywhere in nature without screwing it up. All this and a case of mistaken identity and Mars Attacks! Keep your eyes to the skies ... and seas ... and probably everywhere else, too.

Oksana Tarasova-Kessous received her professional studies degree at The Manhattan School of Music under the guidance of the soloist of The Metropolitan Opera House, harpist Susan Jolles. She received her Doctor of Musical Arts (DMA) and Master of Music from The Moscow Conservatory under the guidance of Professor Vera Dulova, principal harpist of Moscow's Bolshoi Theater.Oksana has performed as a soloist with The New American Chamber Music Orchestra, The Mannes School of Music Orchestra, The Manhattan School of Music Philharmonic, and The Brooklyn Conservatory Orchestra. Her recital appearances include such prestigious venues as Carnegie Hall in New York City, The Bolshoi Hall in Moscow, and The Gracie Mansion, when she was invited by NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg.She has also performed for former Russian President Mikhail Gorbachev, Prince Gallitzin, and Dr. Nona. Oksana has played harp in presentations and events such as the Faberge exhibition, the Sony exposition, LifeTime television station, the Gala 2003 event for The Culinary Institute of America, as well as at The Cipriani Club.Oksana is currently a teacher and a tutor for many students. She is also a frequent performer at different concert halls, playing recitals and with various chamber music ensembles.Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/quidditasfactor)

Hackaday editors Elliot Williams and Mike Szczys get caught up on the week that was. Two builds are turning some heads this week; one uses 60 Nixie tube bar graphs to make a clock that looks like the sun's rays, the other is a 4096 RGB LED Cube (that's 12,288 total diodes for those counting at home) that leverages a ton of engineering to achieve perfection. Speaking of perfection, there's a high-end microphone built on a budget but you'd never know from the look and the performance -- no wonder the world is now sold out of the microphone elements used in the design. After perusing a CNC build, printer filament dryer, and cardboard pulp molds, we wrap the episode talking about electronic miniaturization, radionic analyzers, and Weird Al's computer. Check out the show notes for links!

Link to show notes here

By examining an infamous, potentially movie-breaking scene in Ocean's 12, Tim and Tay explore just how much of Soderbergh's audacity this franchise can bear before it falls apart. Ocean's 12, the second installment in Steven Soderbergh's Ocean's trilogy, finds the gang on the clock to repay their mark from the first film, casino mogul Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia). In order to pay back what they stole, with interest, they must oblige François Toulour (Vincent Cassel), the world's greatest thief, in a competition to steal the Fabergé Imperial Coronation Egg.Starring George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Vincent Cassel, Ocean's 12 premiered on December 8, 2004. Tagline — Three years ago, they stole 160 million dollars. Now the only thing between their old enemy and their new one is an Ocean.Ocean's 12 is available on Netflix and as a digital rental. Scene (1:25:20 - 1:30:40)After picking up a frustrated Tess, the remaining Ocean's team (Linus, Basher, and Turk) attempts to prep her for her role as the diversion in their plan. The plan involves her impersonating the actress Julia Roberts to use her star power to get close to the Faberge egg that they intend to steal. In a scene full of meta-commentary, Bruce Wilis appears as himself and threatens to disrupt the plan.The scene stars Julia Roberts as Tess Ocean (and as herself), Bruce Willis as himself, Matt Damon as Linus, Don Cheadle as Basher, Scott Caan as Turk, and Carl Reiner as Saul.Links48:22 — the Coen brothers as Virgil & TurkNote: Most of the background and insight explored in this episode can be heard in the Ocean's 12 commentary with director Steven Soderbergh and writer George Nolfi. RecommendationsTim: Riders Of Justice (Anders Thomas Jensen, 2021) — available as a digital rental.Tay: Behind The Candelabra (Soderbergh, 2013) — available on Crave (CA), HBO (US), and as a digital rental.All links verified at the time of publication and based on availability in Canada.

This week, in honor of the Easter holiday, Maddy takes us down the rabbit hole (pun intended) to talk about the history of the Easter Bunny and eggs, both real and Faberge. Sources and Additional Information: https://docs.google.com/document/d/13c6AvtZdPUjrNH-oLBMeHAD5ti_Z7ns6qGXxGJjf4CI/edit?usp=sharing

Michael and Lilly are coming to Genovia for Christmas! On a scale of 1 to a zillion, how bitchy is Lilly? Which young royal plays strip bowling? What's the best menu for stray cats? Is Grandmere starting to go soft? Listen as we discuss the mini novel, The Princess Present! Website - www.thepodcastdiaries.com Facebook - The Podcast Diaries Instagram - @thepodcastdiary1 Twitter - @thepodcastdiary Gmail - thepodcastdiary@gmail.com Anchor - anchor.fm/thepodcastdiaries

Hey, hi, hello EGGHEADZ! Welcome to another eggy eppy of Soft Boiled! This week I had on the v funny Chris Wood so you know this one's PACKED with PROTIEN! I get to teach Chris that there are other kinds of eggs other than just scrambled.. not sure how that's possible, but I'm starting to learn that everyone's knowledge and experience with eggs is different and THATS OKAY! In return Chris teaches me a whole lot about Faberge eggs and SO MUCH MORE!! Follow Chris on Instagram @Tummynuggetz and check out his podcast Oral Presentations where ever you get your podcasts!!

Book a lesson at http://italki.com/yulia.stepanova to check your listening comprehension, to speak about an adventure of an American in Soviet Union. Fans of history will find in the lesson Stalin, Roosevelt, and art lost to the Russians but saved by Marjorie Post and her husband, the American Ambassador in the USSR, Joseph Davis. Using Google Maps, we will walk around Hillwood Museum, where we will look for Faberge eggs and the wedding crown of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna. We will practice the active participles of the present and past tense, prepositions, and also translate into Russian short notes from the newspaper from 1945 etc. In the end, use funny caricatures of an artist A.Tsap to retell this entire story. The first podcast with vocabulary. The vocabulary contains words that are not included in the minimum vocabulary of level B2.

Book a lesson at http://italki.com/yulia.stepanova to check your listening comprehension, to speak about an adventure of an American in Soviet Union. Fans of history will find in the lesson Stalin, Roosevelt, and art lost to the Russians but saved by Marjorie Post and her husband, the American Ambassador in the USSR, Joseph Davis. Using Google Maps, we will walk around Hillwood Museum, where we will look for Faberge eggs and the wedding crown of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna. We will practice the suffixes -ательный, -ительный, prepositions, который, vocabulary of the lesson and also translate into Russian short notes from the newspaper from 1945 etc. In the end, use funny caricatures of an artist A.Tsap to retell this entire story. The first podcast with vocabulary. The vocabulary contains words that are not included in the minimum vocabulary of level B1.

It's amazing the things we tolerate as Americans. Fake cheese, fake boobs, fake news. China however, takes it to a whole different level. Knockoff Teslas, plastic rice, even fake eggs. Really?? Talk about your Faberge' albumen. Alright that one's probably not gonna land. If discomfort from synthetic food wasn't bad enough, this week on Unofficial, Coop and Myan bring up the universally recognized cringe-factor in The Office episode: Scott's Tot's, the awkward pity of Buster Scruggs', "Meal Ticket" (the Boy with no limbs) and the unwatchable nature of that one scene in the classic, American History X. Why doesn't Tarantino just do one romantic comedy? I guess True Romance kinda counts. Episode 40 is a milestone for the boys as they inch closer and closer to the top. Having a talkshow at your fingertips every week makes the world we explore one big casting call. The Internet now has a place where anyone can be famous for an hour. Famous for just being you. Have you ever wanted to be a guest on a podcast? If you're in LA, hit-up Coop and Myan at Unofficialpod@gmail.com and come showcase what makes you amazing. In the meantime, check out Unofficial's newest discovery, "Sabrina", this Thursday, as she takes a leave of absence from beautiful, Florence, Italy and searches for herself in America. With plans to tackle her own podcast, she travels the globe, capturing the sounds of the world. Her voice alone lets you know she may just be on to something.

The legendary stories of Faberge eggs, KGB-successor FSB & a famous fictional detective. With Adrian Chiles, linguist Olga Makarenko and comedian Igor Meerson.

In today's Quackcast we talk about a couple of subjects: Doing things at the last minute VS doing them slowly, over time. Sometimes you get that wonderful last minute energy cause by a deadline, your work can be inspired, or at least fresh and full of vibrancy. Other times it's rough and unfinished looking, amateurish. Work done over a long time can be honed to a diamond edge, exquisitely put together like a Faberge egg, a work of art! Other times it can be like a warmed over mess, redone and redone till any spark of originality and freshness is washed out of the grey goop you're left with. We chat about Tantz's Saturday newspost subject of Black and White Vs Grey: bad guys can be totally bad without humanising them and good guys can be totally good, without stain or tarnish and yet both can be interesting and the story can be great. Grey isn't always better. This week Gunwallace has given us the theme to Empress Mother Earths Handmaiden: A dark, intense foreboding and forbidding intro leads you deep into a beautiful rose coloured cave of glowing wonder and joy. We finish up with a lovely lilt on a harp! Topics and shownotes Featured comic: Alienated - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/news/2018/apr/10/featured-comic-alienated/ Links: Black, White, & Grey newspost - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/news/2018/apr/13/gray-black-and-white-part-1/ Art of veiling - https://www.amazon.com/Art-Veiling-Awareness-Tantz-Aerine-ebook/dp/B00CRMM25K Special thanks to: Gunwallace - http://www.virtuallycomics.com PitFace - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/user/PIT_FACE/ Tantz Aerine - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/user/Tantz_Aerine/ kawaiidaigakusei - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/user/kawaiidaigakusei/ Banes - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/user/banes Ozoneocean - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/user/ozoneocean Featured music: Empress Mother Earths Handmaiden - http://www.theduckwebcomics.com/Empress_Mother_Earths_Handmaiden/, by NRG Comic, rated E.