Podcasts about Hup

Gordon werkt aan een nieuw gezondheidsprogramma genaamd HUP, waarin hij zijn eigen afvalervaring deelt en tips geeft. Hoe is de zanger nou weer op dit idee gekomen? Koningin Máxima vierde woensdagavond feest na de overwinning van Argentinië in de halve finale van het WK. Zondag neemt dit land het in de finale op tegen Spanje, hierna zal ook de VI-marathon voorbij zijn. Evert Santegoeds vermoedt dat de mannen dan opgelucht adem zullen halen. Verder in deze nieuwe Strikt Privé: Peter Jan Rens is weer aan het werk na zijn mislukte Thaise mediadroom, Elise Schaap gaat een nieuwe serie maken over Jomanda en is het einde van de relatie tussen Roy Donders en Michelle nabij?See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Aan het einde van het tweede kwartaal vonden beleggers 't wel welletjes met die geheugenchips. Hup, daar gooiden ze Micron, Samsung en SK Hynix en andere chipbedrijven van de trap. 'Rotatie', las je dan in de media. Maar zelf vonden de geheugenchippers het nog lang niet genoeg. Analisten verwachten dat Samsung morgen 18 keer zoveel winst gaat melden op jaarbasis over het tweede kwartaal. En rivaal SK Hynix? Dat gaat vrijdag eventjes lachend 28 miljard dollar ophalen in de VS. Mein Gott! We bespreken wat dit betekent voor chipbeleggers. Daarbij laten we natuurlijk de flinke daling van Besi niet onvermeld. De chipverpakker van Richard Blickman kreeg slecht nieuws: de invoer van hybrid bonding, de efficiënte chipverpakkingstechniek waar Besi hofleverancier van wil worden, wordt waarschijnlijk opnieuw uitgesteld. Verder mag je een nieuw bruidspaar feliciteren, want EasyJet geeft na vier aanzoeken eindelijk het jawoord aan bruidegom Castlelake. Soms moet je even onderhandelen over je bruidsschat. Ze zijn uitgekomen op 5.5 miljard pond. Maar waarom staat EasyJet dan nog steeds te koop voor makkelijk een miljard pond minder dan die overnameprijs? Kan dat bod echt nog stuklopen voor de deadline van 3 augustus? Verder hoor je nog: Wat de opname van SpaceX in de Nasdaq 100 betekent voor SpaceX én indexbeleggers. Dat gaat morgen gewoon door. Was het 't nou waard om allemaal op je kop te gaan staan vanwege die snelle opname in de index? Waarom de beurswaarde van Softbank lager is dan zijn belang in chipmaker Arm. Huh? Hint: ganzenrisico. Waarom de tijd eindelijk is aangebroken voor de nucleaire beursgang van Holtec. Te gast: Erik Mauritz, senior adviseur Nederland bij Trade Republic BNR Beurs is een journalistiek onafhankelijke productie, mede mogelijk gemaakt door Saxo. Over de makers: Jelle Maasbach is presentator van BNR Beurs en freelance financieel journalist. Zijn favoriete aandeel om over te praten is Disney, maar daar lijkt hij de enige in te zijn. Sinds de eerste uitzending van BNR Beurs is 'ie er bij. Maxim van Mil is presentator van BNR Beurs en journalist bij BNR, waar hij zich focust op de financiële markten en ontwikkelingen in de tech-wereld. Je krijgt hem het meest enthousiast als hij kan praten over ASML, of oer-Hollandse bedrijven zoals Ahold of ABN Amro. Jorik Simonides is presentator van BNR Beurs, economieredacteur en verslaggever bij BNR. Hij wordt er vooral blij van als het een keer níet over AI gaat. Je hoort hem ook in de BNR-podcast Moerdijk: dorp van de rekening. Milou Brand is presentator van BNR Beurs, freelance podcastmaker en columnist bij het Financieele Dagblad. Jochem Visser is presentator van BNR Beurs, maakt Beursnerd XL en is redacteur bij de podcast Onder Curatoren. Vraag hem naar obscure zaken op financiële markten en hij vertelt je waarom het eigenlijk nóg leuker is dan je al dacht. Over de podcast: Met BNR Beurs ga je altijd voorbereid de nieuwe beursdag in. We praten je in een kleine 25 minuten bij over alle laatste ontwikkelingen op de handelsvloer. We blijven niet alleen bij de AEX of Wall Street, maar vertellen je ook waar nog meer kansen liggen. En we houden het niet bij de cijfers, maar zoeken ook iedere dag voor je naar duiding van scherpe gasten en experts. Of je nu een ervaren belegger bent of net begint met je eerste stappen op de beurs, de podcast biedt waardevolle inzichten voor je beleggingsstrategie. Door de focus op zowel de korte termijn als de lange termijn, helpt BNR Beurs luisteraars om de ruis van de markt te scheiden van de essentie.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Aan het einde van het tweede kwartaal vonden beleggers 't wel welletjes met die geheugenchips. Hup, daar gooiden ze Micron, Samsung en SK Hynix en andere chipbedrijven van de trap. 'Rotatie', las je dan in de media. Maar zelf vonden de geheugenchippers het nog lang niet genoeg. Analisten verwachten dat Samsung morgen 18 keer zoveel winst gaat melden op jaarbasis over het tweede kwartaal. En rivaal SK Hynix? Dat gaat vrijdag eventjes lachend 28 miljard dollar ophalen in de VS. Mein Gott! We bespreken wat dit betekent voor chipbeleggers. Daarbij laten we natuurlijk de flinke daling van Besi niet onvermeld. De chipverpakker van Richard Blickman kreeg slecht nieuws: de invoer van hybrid bonding, de efficiënte chipverpakkingstechniek waar Besi hofleverancier van wil worden, wordt waarschijnlijk opnieuw uitgesteld. Verder mag je een nieuw bruidspaar feliciteren, want EasyJet geeft na vier aanzoeken eindelijk het jawoord aan bruidegom Castlelake. Soms moet je even onderhandelen over je bruidsschat. Ze zijn uitgekomen op 5.5 miljard pond. Maar waarom staat EasyJet dan nog steeds te koop voor makkelijk een miljard pond minder dan die overnameprijs? Kan dat bod echt nog stuklopen voor de deadline van 3 augustus? Verder hoor je nog: Wat de opname van SpaceX in de Nasdaq 100 betekent voor SpaceX én indexbeleggers. Dat gaat morgen gewoon door. Was het 't nou waard om allemaal op je kop te gaan staan vanwege die snelle opname in de index? Waarom de beurswaarde van Softbank lager is dan zijn belang in chipmaker Arm. Huh? Hint: ganzenrisico. Waarom de tijd eindelijk is aangebroken voor de nucleaire beursgang van Holtec. Te gast: Erik Mauritz, senior adviseur Nederland bij Trade Republic BNR Beurs is een journalistiek onafhankelijke productie, mede mogelijk gemaakt door Saxo. Over de makers: Jelle Maasbach is presentator van BNR Beurs en freelance financieel journalist. Zijn favoriete aandeel om over te praten is Disney, maar daar lijkt hij de enige in te zijn. Sinds de eerste uitzending van BNR Beurs is 'ie er bij. Maxim van Mil is presentator van BNR Beurs en journalist bij BNR, waar hij zich focust op de financiële markten en ontwikkelingen in de tech-wereld. Je krijgt hem het meest enthousiast als hij kan praten over ASML, of oer-Hollandse bedrijven zoals Ahold of ABN Amro. Jorik Simonides is presentator van BNR Beurs, economieredacteur en verslaggever bij BNR. Hij wordt er vooral blij van als het een keer níet over AI gaat. Je hoort hem ook in de BNR-podcast Moerdijk: dorp van de rekening. Milou Brand is presentator van BNR Beurs, freelance podcastmaker en columnist bij het Financieele Dagblad. Jochem Visser is presentator van BNR Beurs, maakt Beursnerd XL en is redacteur bij de podcast Onder Curatoren. Vraag hem naar obscure zaken op financiële markten en hij vertelt je waarom het eigenlijk nóg leuker is dan je al dacht. Over de podcast: Met BNR Beurs ga je altijd voorbereid de nieuwe beursdag in. We praten je in een kleine 25 minuten bij over alle laatste ontwikkelingen op de handelsvloer. We blijven niet alleen bij de AEX of Wall Street, maar vertellen je ook waar nog meer kansen liggen. En we houden het niet bij de cijfers, maar zoeken ook iedere dag voor je naar duiding van scherpe gasten en experts. Of je nu een ervaren belegger bent of net begint met je eerste stappen op de beurs, de podcast biedt waardevolle inzichten voor je beleggingsstrategie. Door de focus op zowel de korte termijn als de lange termijn, helpt BNR Beurs luisteraars om de ruis van de markt te scheiden van de essentie.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Artsen maken zich zorgen over het zonnebaden van jongvolwassenen, maar ze zouden zich zorgen moeten maken over Yvanka en haar zonnebloemolie. Hup, naar het strand ging ze. Ook Kluun en Pitou’s huiden zien zelden SPF en Mare (22) heeft een ligbedroute door de tuin voor maximale UV-exposure. Als de rimpels niet door de zon komen, dan wel door het uitlachen van die telefoonetiquettes. Boomers snappen niets van de ‘knoppen’ op de socials, jongeren krijgen al zweethandjes wanneer ze de dokter moeten bellen. Hoe gaan die werelden óóit tot elkaar komen?!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Dans cette seconde capsule, nous continuons la conversation avec Frédéric Hupé, fondateur de Room Saveurs, mais cette fois par le prisme des étudiants et de l'équipe de Transformation Positive. On aborde notamment les défis de l'entrepreneuriat responsable et les choix stratégiques qui accompagnent une démarche de durabilité.Au programme :Comment lancerait-il aujourd'hui Twist, l'initiative des plateaux-repas sans plastique récompensé en 2019 lors du Palmarès de Réussir avec un marketing responsable ?Comment répondre à des accusations de greenwashing et construire une communication crédible ?En quoi le repositionnement de l'entreprise vers une offre sans plastique peut avoir des implications face à la concurrence ? Comment inscrire les relations avec ses fournisseurs dans une logique de long terme tout en garantissant la confiance des clients et la durabilité de son modèle ?Bonne écoute ! Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Dans cette première capsule, nous continuons la conversation avec Frédéric Hupé, fondateur de Room Saveurs, pour décrypter les profondes mutations qui ont transformé l'entreprise ces dernières années. Lorsque la crise du Covid-19 frappe en 2020, une question devient centrale : comment survivre dans un marché soudainement paralysé ? Face à l'arrêt brutal de l'activité et à l'évolution rapide des usages, Room Saveurs doit repenser son modèle en profondeur.Frédéric Hupé revient alors sur les décisions stratégiques qui ont marqué cette période :l'adaptation de l'offrela refonte du pricingl'évolution des plateaux repasl'ouverture d'une activité historiquement tournée vers le B2B à une approche intégrant le B2CUne transformation profonde, qui a nécessité plusieurs mois, voire plusieurs années, pour trouver un modèle économique en phase avec les nouvelles attentes du marché.Un échange concret et sans filtre sur l'adaptation, la résilience et la capacité d'une entreprise à se réinventer dans un environnement en perpétuelle évolution.Bonne écoute ! Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

In Oekraïne heerst een lichte euforische stemming, nu Oekraïne Rusland steeds harder weet te raken, ziet Alle Dorhout, scheidend ambassadeur voor Nederland in Oekraïne, maar we moeten wel waakzaam blijven. 'Dat mag ons niet afleiden van wat nodig is, doorgaan met steun aan Oekraïne en meer druk op Rusland'. Hij is, samen met Europaverslaggever Geert Jan Hahn, te gast in BNR De Wereld. Luister ook | 'Trump heeft op alle fronten de plank misgeslagen' Volgens Doorhout keert de dynamiek aan het front langzaam in Oekraïens voordeel en is de eigen defensie-industrie, vooral op dronegebied, uitgegroeid tot een ‘lichtend voorbeeld’ voor Europa. 'De deep strike capability van Oekraïne is steeds groter geworden', zegt Doorhout, ambassadeur in Oekraïne. Hij wijst op het verzadigen van de Russische luchtverdediging en de inzet van langeafstandsraketten als Flamingo, die doelen diep in Rusland en op de Krim raken. Luister ook | Hup hup hup, tijd voor de terugkeerhub - 2 juni 2026 De kansen voor het Europese asiel- en migratiepact Het Europese asiel- en migratiepact treedt vrijdag in werking. En hoewel er veel kritiek is op de uitwerking daarvan ziet CDA-Europarlementariër Jeroen Lenaers vooral kansen. 'Het Europees migratiepact is objectief een verbetering ten opzichte van de chaos van de afgelopen tien jaar', zegt Lenaers, die ook vicevoorzitter van de Europese Volkspartij-fractie is. Hij verwacht binnen een jaar ‘zichtbare tekenen van verbetering’ dankzij snellere procedures aan de buitengrenzen, strengere terugkeerregels en afspraken met derde landen. Volgens Lenaers moet het pact ervoor zorgen dat mensen uit veilige landen een versnelde procedure krijgen en direct worden teruggestuurd, zodat de druk op landen als Nederland vermindert. Luister ook | Amerika Podcast Trump schittert in afwezigheid op WK | Postma in Amerika President Trump zal niet aanwezig zijn bij de openingswedstrijd van de Verenigde Staten tegen Paraguay op het WK voetbal. En dat roept meteen veel vragen op, ziet Amerika-correspondent Jan Postma. Over de makers Bernard Hammelburg is buitenlandcommentator en columnist voor BNR Nieuwsradio en het FD, en presentator van BNR De Wereld. Als oorlogsverslaggever was hij o.a. ooggetuige van de Culturele Revolutie in China, de revolutie in Iran en de oorlogen in Vietnam, het Midden-Oosten en Afghanistan. Hij was twintig jaar correspondent in de VS. Hij verdeelt zijn tijd tussen zijn woonplaatsen Amsterdam en New York. Redactie Michaël Roele, buitenlandredacteur bij BNR Nieuwsradio.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

En 2019, Room Saveurs devenait lauréat du Palmarès de Réussir avec un Marketing Responsable grâce à Twist, une innovation qui permettait de supprimer totalement le plastique de ses plateaux-repas. Sept ans plus tard, où en est l'entreprise ?Dans ce nouvel épisode de la série « Que sont-ils devenus ? », David Garbous reçoit Frédéric Hupé, fondateur de Room Saveurs, leader de la restauration livrée, qui a depuis rejoint le groupe Kumo.Au-delà du succès de Twist et des 17 tonnes de plastique économisées chaque année, cet échange explore une question essentielle : comment transformer durablement une entreprise sans céder au greenwashing ni perdre sa compétitivité ?Au programme :Comment Room Saveurs a traversé le choc du Covid et réinventé son modèleLes coulisses du passage à une logistique 100 % vélo cargo électrique à ParisLes défis du sourcing local et de la restauration responsablePourquoi les transformations réussies se construisent par étapesUn épisode sans langue de bois sur la réalité des transitions et une conversation inspirante pour tous ceux qui cherchent à concilier impact, performance et résilience.Bonne écoute ! Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

This show has been flagged as Clean by the host. This series is dedicated to exploring little-known—and occasionally useful—trinkets lurking in the dusty corners of UNIX-like operating systems. Let me start by admitting that I've never actually seen the film referenced in the episode title, but I couldn't resist using it anyway. If you've used the UNIX command line to any extent, chances are good that you are familiar with the kill command. A common use is to terminate a misbehaving program. But there is more behind how kill works, including a curio you might not know about. The kill utility works by sending a "signal" to the targeted process. This signal is selected from a pre-defined list, and triggers the process to interrupt its normal flow and handle the signal before potentially returning back to its work. This "signal handler" can do whatever activities are written in its code, but typically it will take actions connected to the purpose of the specific signal received. One option is for the process not to have a signal handler at all; in that case, there is a default action that the operating system will take on behalf of the process, depending on what the signal is. The possible default actions are to terminate the process, take some implementation-defined action (usually writing a core file to disk) and then terminate the process, stop (pause) execution of the process, continue execution of a stopped process, or ignore the signal. By default, kill sends the TERM signal to the process, an indicator that it should terminate. Each signal has a name and a number assigned to it; SIGTERM is the name of the "terminate" signal. You can use the -s option with the name to choose which signal to send. The 'kill' command is specified to take these names without the SIG prefix, though some implementations will accept them either way. Also, kill is supposed to be case-insensitive when it comes to these names, but the convention is to write them in all upper case. The assigned numbers for signals can vary depending on the operating system, and on Linux, depending on what processor architecture you're on. However, there is a short list of signals 1 that have a stable number assigned to them. Despite this, I recommend using the signal name in your scripts to make them clearer and to ensure maximum portability to different systems. Well-behaved programs will have a signal handler that responds to the TERM signal by stopping what they are doing, cleaning up any open resources like temporary files, and promptly exiting. However, not every program behaves well, so sometimes it becomes necessary to send them the KILL signal. This one is special and cannot be handled or ignored by the program 2 ; the operating system will immediately terminate the program, possibly leaving a mess behind. Two other signals that can come in handy sometimes are STOP and CONT. As you might expect, STOP forces a process to pause in the middle of whatever it was doing. Its counterpart, CONT (short for "continue"), causes it to resume execution. This can be useful if a program consumes CPU time when not actually doing anything worthwhile—sending it the STOP signal will end that, and when you're ready to use it again, CONT will cause it to pick up right where it left off. Like the KILL signal, STOP cannot be handled or ignored by the program. I have used this to pause the game FreeCiv when I wanted to break away to do something else, but didn't want to have to deal with exiting my current game and having to reload it later. Take note, though, that the program might get confused if it expects the system clock not to suddenly jump forward, as that is exactly how the situation will appear to it. Network connections or other resources the process is using that change while it is stopped are other potential trouble spots. Also be aware that a stopped graphical program will not update its window, so I find it best to minimize the window before stopping it and then continuing the process before trying to raise the window again. Programs are not necessarily required to interpret signals in the way they are described. For example, the HUP signal was originally intended to be sent when a modem or serial connection hang-up occurred. Today, some daemons use it for other purposes and take a specific action in response. For example, the Apache web server will restart 3 , and NetworkManager will reload its configuration 4 . These uses of signals are usually described in the daemon's manual page, often in a separate section dedicated to signals. While all this background might be interesting (or maybe not), it's pretty commonly known, so isn't really a curio. Our UNIX Curio for today is the "0" signal. This is actually not a signal at all; instead, it tells the kill utility to just check for the existence of a process. If the process exists, kill will exit with a status of 0. If it doesn't exist, the exit status will be greater than 0. This provides a handy way to check whether a particular process is still around. A shell command can use this exit status with its control structures like if to take a particular action depending on whether a particular process exists. Somewhat oddly, "0" is both the number and the name of this pseudo-signal. Why would you want to do this? I have used it for a script to analyze log files that runs daily on a web server. Depending on how much traffic the site is getting, the log files can grow to the point where it takes longer than a day for the script to get through them. If a second instance of the script is started while one is still running, it will slow down both and if more keep being added, eventually the machine will run out of memory. My solution was to create a .pid file containing the process ID number of the running script. You might see examples of these if you look in /run or /var/run on your system. The script creates a file named something like "myscript.pid" in this directory containing its own process ID, which can be accessed in the shell with the variable $$ . When my script starts, it checks to see whether this file exists. If so, it uses kill -s 0 $(cat /run/myscript.pid) to see if the previous process still exists. If the process is no longer around, that's a sign that it exited abnormally before it had the chance to delete the .pid file, so the script removes the abandoned .pid file, replaces it with a new one containing the current process ID, and continues with its work. If the previous process is still around, my script exits with a message to that effect. This way, I can be sure that only one instance of the script will ever be running at one time. Be aware that the kill utility might also return a non-zero exit status if the user running it does not have privileges to send a signal to the process with the specified ID. This is not a concern if you are running a script as the root user, but could be if you are not. This can occur even if you aren't actually sending a signal, just using the "0" pseudo-signal to check if a process exists. There is a weakness in this method. UNIX-like systems generally have a limit to the quantity of process ID numbers that can be issued, so they are reused over time. (However, there will never be two processes with the same ID number running at the same time.) Typically, the first process that is run on start-up will be given the ID number 1, and each subsequent process will get the next higher number. Once the maximum is reached, the system starts again at the beginning with the lowest number not in use. It is possible for the script to crash and leave behind the .pid file, then the same process ID could be recycled and actively used for another program, causing a new instance of the script to give up. The chances of this are small enough that for my purposes, it's not worth worrying about. But you should be aware that it could happen. I should also note that it's not strictly necessary to use kill for the purpose I described. The ps utility can also be given a process ID with the -p option; if the process exists, the exit status will be 0, otherwise it will be greater than 0. In this case, you could also use the output to check that the name of the command matches what you expect, helping avoid the problem of a recycled process ID. In addition, ps doesn't concern itself with permissions for sending signals, so it will report on the existence of a process no matter what user you are running it as. From an efficiency standpoint, kill generally requires fewer resources to run (in fact, it is built in to some shells), but functionally ps can also do the job. So keep in mind that kill is capable of doing more than just killing off programs—maybe you can put it to one of these uses for your needs. References: Kill specification https://pubs.opengroup.org/onlinepubs/009695399/utilities/kill.html signal.h specification https://pubs.opengroup.org/onlinepubs/009695399/basedefs/signal.h.html Stopping and Restarting Apache HTTP Server https://httpd.apache.org/docs/2.4/stopping.html#hup NetworkManager: Signals https://networkmanager.dev/docs/api/latest/NetworkManager.html#id-1.2.2.9 Appendix 1 - example script: #!/bin/sh # Use your own unique name here - be sure you can write to this location pidfile="/var/run/myscript.pid" # Exit if previous run hasn't completed yet if [ -f "$pidfile" ] ; then oldpid=$(cat "$pidfile") if kill -s 0 $oldpid ; then echo "${0}: Not running script, older process $oldpid still active" exit 1 else echo "${0}: Removing old pidfile from nonexistent process $oldpid" rm -f "$pidfile" fi fi # Create pidfile echo $$ > "$pidfile" ## Insert commands to do the actual work of the script here # Remove pidfile rm -f "$pidfile" Appendix 2 - another version of the script using ps instead of kill , checking that an existing process ID is actually the same command, and with extra validation of the contents of the pidfile; perhaps better for use by a non-root user: #!/bin/sh # Use your own unique name here - be sure you can write to this location pidfile="$HOME/myscript.pid" # Exit if previous run hasn't completed yet if [ -f "$pidfile" ] ; then oldpid=$(( 1 * $(cat "$pidfile") )) if [ -n "$oldpid" ] && [ "$oldpid" -gt 1 ] ; then : else echo "${0}: Not running script, $pidfile contents invalid" exit 1 fi # Test if old process ID exists if oldcmd="$( ps -o comm= -p $oldpid )" && # Also test if command name of old process is same as current script [ "$oldcmd" = "${0##*/}" ] ; then echo "${0}: Not running script, older process $oldpid still active" exit 1 else echo "${0}: Removing old pidfile from nonexistent process $oldpid" rm -f "$pidfile" fi fi # Create pidfile echo $$ > "$pidfile" ## Insert commands to do the actual work of the script here # Remove pidfile rm -f "$pidfile" Provide feedback on this episode.

Miles Hunt joins Mark Millar on the XS Noize Podcast to reflect on 40 years of The Wonder Stuff — from the band's rise through the late '80s and early '90s to what it means to still be carrying it forward today. With The Wonder Stuff set for a major 40th anniversary UK tour in October 2026, Miles looks back on audience loyalty, writing the early records, the impact of albums including HUP, Never Loved Elvis and Construction for the Modern Idiot, and why the band still feels like a real band rather than a nostalgia act. He also talks about burnout, the point where life in the band started to feel heavier than it should, how Vent 414 gave him a different creative outlet, and what he learned from stepping away from music to work in a brewery. It's a warm, funny and insightful conversation about songwriting, survival, creative restlessness and starting over. In this episode, Miles Hunt talks about: 40 years of The Wonder Stuff audience loyalty and the bond with fans writing the early records HUP, Never Loved Elvis and Construction for the Modern Idiot wider success and changing audiences burnout and the band's first split why The Wonder Stuff still feels like a real band Vent 414 and the new album Second Things Can Change and creative exhaustion working in a brewery after music patience, ageing and starting over About The XS Noize Podcast Hosted by Mark Millar, the XS Noize Podcast features in-depth conversations with some of the most influential artists in modern music. With over 270 episodes, guests have included Steve Lillywhite, Matt Berninger, Gary Numan, Peter Hook, Bernard Butler, The Charlatans, Sleaford Mods, Snow Patrol, Elbow, Travis and many more. New episodes drop weekly.

Niet met z'n vieren dit keer (Hanneke is blessa), maar met z'n drieën bespreken we de nieuwe Schijf van Vijf. Hup linzen! De Anne van vandaag is boos op de Anne van gisteren, met goede reden. De Alex van vandaag had graag - a la Frits Bolkestein - de Alex van 19 jaar een secretaresse gegund. En we hebben weer bijbelstudie en wetenschap! Maken kinderen nou ongelukkig? Wij bieden nuance! Want de Nynke van een paar jaar geleden had graag vijf kinderen gehad, maar de Nynke van vandaag is zielsgelukkig. Geniet! Nynke, Anne en Alex ------ Sponsor Yokuu: Haal 1 miljard poetshulpjes in huis! Bestel op www.yokuu.eu en gebruik 'ikkeniemanddie20' voor 20% korting op je eerste bestelling.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hup-hup! Herzlich willkommen zu unserem moralisch ambivalenten Prestige-Projekt. Starten wir mit der Keule: Soll die Welt von KI regiert werden? Claude an die Macht? Lasst uns in bewährter Parkplatz-Kultur dankbar über namenlose Supermärkte heulen und das Spaghetti-Monster anbeten. Mit Iris' Gesicht als Bildschirmschoner im Hintergrund. Matthias kommt schon im Intro mit Ressourcen-Scheiße, aber wir müssen auch Langeweile aushalten. Stabil stehen, um umgehauen zu werden! Zur Kompensation lösen wir Scheißprobleme durch Rollenspiele, also schlüpft in den Blaumann und geht in die Russenhocke, denn mit uns habt ihr nur Schweinshaxen im Kopf. In dieser Folge geht es durchgehend um Entspannung und die Conditio humana. Wir zusammen gegen die Welt, den Schmerz und die offene Kinnlade. Was sind wir für Schisser? Während Bischöfe auf dem Boden liegend ihre Statusspiele spielen, lauschen wir der erfahrenen Genesungsbegleiterin und werden nicht zum Teil des Problems. Ist euer erster Impuls auch oft erst 16 Jahre alt? Sind wir unser zweiter Gedanke? Am Schluss kommt Monty Python ins Kreuzverhör und wir holen Iris' Mutter aus der Antike. Schickt euch doch einfach gegenseitig Sprachnachrichten. Auch mal schön. Du möchtest uns eine Sprachnachricht für den Podcast schicken? Folge uns auf Instagram und nutze dort den Chat: https://www.instagram.com/coupleof_podcast/ Du möchtest mehr über unsere Werbepartner erfahren? Hier findest du alle Infos und Rabatte: https://linktr.ee/CoupleOf Du möchtest Werbung in diesem Podcast schalten? Dann erfahre hier mehr über die Werbemöglichkeiten bei Seven.One Audio: https://www.seven.one/portfolio/sevenone-audio

Welcome Back to the Dead Tv Podcast As me and Artist Chandra continue our coverage of Dark Crystal ep 3 Brea struggles with her unsavory new duties, Deet and Hup get a hostile welcome from the Stonewood clan, and Rian begs his Maudra for help. ep 4 While Brea races to solve a puzzle in […]

A choice, a trap, and a necklace.By HectorBidon. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.The next morning’s sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.We’d become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That’s probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn’t, and I didn’t think that she had either.And yet, here we were.I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn’t. So I finally got up myself.We’d just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day’s schedule. She was delighted to discover that they’d transferred Mrs. Pendergast’s excursion ticket to me.A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara’s age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.“So how did you guys meet?”Molly didn’t volunteer an answer. "Just here on the cruise, actually,“ I said."Really? See, aren’t cruises great?” Molly gushed.After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.“The nicest thing.” she said. “is that every day you make new friends.”We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she’d met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we’d made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to the room.”Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly’s headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it upAfter the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.“Wouldn’t you just love to go dancing?” she cooed.“I, uh,  Actually, I’ve kind of got to go now.”“But the night is still young. Meryl rebutted. Let’s at least stop by my room first.”“I’ve got to check on Molly.” I insisted“We can open one of the tequilas.”“Thanks, but,"It’s just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight.”Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn’t need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.“Is your headache any better?” I asked.She didn’t look up from the screen.I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.“You didn’t miss much,” I said. “The show was kind of,”But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.OK. I got the message. She didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I’d only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we’d made the plans. I thought that she’d been trying to be friendly too. That we’d sort of taken Meryl under our wing.I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she’d ever offered to share the room in the first place.I didn’t even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I’d found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I’d thought that we’d both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn’t budge. Finally I got fed up and left.So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I’d gotten my single in the first place.I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn’t there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn’t told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.Molly still wasn’t in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn’t there when she got back.I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.“Where’s Molly?” asked Ciara.“She had a little headache. She might not be joining us.”Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.“Do you want to go back to the room?”We got up.“Oh, are you guys going to the revue?” asked Ciara.Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.“Make-up sex.”The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.“Can you forgive me?” she asked as we got out into the hallway.“For letting everybody know where we’re going?”“For last night. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”“The worst part is, we wasted a whole day,” I remorsed.“We still have tonight.” She tried to assure me.“Yeah. We still have tonight.” I agreed.As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other’s arms.“I love the necklace,” she murmured.“It looks really nice on you.”We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.“Let’s do something first, want to? I pleaded. It’s our last night. Let’s get our money’s worth. Let’s go to the show! Let’s go dancing! Let’s shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let’s make up for some of the things we didn’t do today. Let’s paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!”Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.“That was quick,” Ciara said with a look of astonishment.Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. “You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait, The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.Molly, perhaps I m clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me? I had to ask.Oh, my God! Molly stared at me. All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she d have some friends to socialize with.Well, Molly confessed. I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.I went to the show, because we told her we d both join her, there. I explained. When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn t want to be away from you.Ah, really? That s so sweet! Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I m so, so sorry.Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was hoping to get lucky with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.Oh, I was awful to you! Molly lamented. But I was also right about that slut s intentions, wasn t I? Molly paused, then added; When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn t come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn t even have lipstick smeared on your face.  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don t deserve you. You don t deserve my juvenile drama. I d planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.You know, Molly I paused. Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming? Do you think we can both help to balance each other?Oh, I love that! Yes, let s balance each other.The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we’d left it.We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn’t consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh,” she groaned. “Just five more minutes.”I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She’d been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.We hadn’t begun to pack yet, but we’d kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. “C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um.”She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.“Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?” I asked.She was folding one of her bras. “Oh, I don’t know. We’d probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually.”“They’d run out. Then we’d have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats.”“He gets cheesecake sometimes, don’t you think? When they have some left over?”“I don’t know. He’s pretty skinny.”“I wonder why Meryl didn’t think of him.”“Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose.”“I suppose.”I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. “Besides,” she said. “Your algorithms would miss you.”I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!I couldn’t help but smile. “I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there.”She rolled her eyebrows.But I was feeling a little playful. The final day’s schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.“Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you’ve got behind that sheet?”She wasn’t so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.“That shirt you’re wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?”She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.“Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers.” I held out my hand. “May I see it please?”She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the ot

A choice, a trap, and a necklace.By HectorBidon. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.The next morning’s sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.We’d become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That’s probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn’t, and I didn’t think that she had either.And yet, here we were.I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn’t. So I finally got up myself.We’d just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day’s schedule. She was delighted to discover that they’d transferred Mrs. Pendergast’s excursion ticket to me.A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara’s age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.“So how did you guys meet?”Molly didn’t volunteer an answer. "Just here on the cruise, actually,“ I said."Really? See, aren’t cruises great?” Molly gushed.After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.“The nicest thing.” she said. “is that every day you make new friends.”We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she’d met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we’d made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to the room.”Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly’s headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it upAfter the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.“Wouldn’t you just love to go dancing?” she cooed.“I, uh,  Actually, I’ve kind of got to go now.”“But the night is still young. Meryl rebutted. Let’s at least stop by my room first.”“I’ve got to check on Molly.” I insisted“We can open one of the tequilas.”“Thanks, but,"It’s just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight.”Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn’t need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.“Is your headache any better?” I asked.She didn’t look up from the screen.I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.“You didn’t miss much,” I said. “The show was kind of,”But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.OK. I got the message. She didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I’d only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we’d made the plans. I thought that she’d been trying to be friendly too. That we’d sort of taken Meryl under our wing.I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she’d ever offered to share the room in the first place.I didn’t even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I’d found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I’d thought that we’d both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn’t budge. Finally I got fed up and left.So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I’d gotten my single in the first place.I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn’t there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn’t told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.Molly still wasn’t in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn’t there when she got back.I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.“Where’s Molly?” asked Ciara.“She had a little headache. She might not be joining us.”Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.“Do you want to go back to the room?”We got up.“Oh, are you guys going to the revue?” asked Ciara.Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.“Make-up sex.”The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.“Can you forgive me?” she asked as we got out into the hallway.“For letting everybody know where we’re going?”“For last night. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”“The worst part is, we wasted a whole day,” I remorsed.“We still have tonight.” She tried to assure me.“Yeah. We still have tonight.” I agreed.As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other’s arms.“I love the necklace,” she murmured.“It looks really nice on you.”We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.“Let’s do something first, want to? I pleaded. It’s our last night. Let’s get our money’s worth. Let’s go to the show! Let’s go dancing! Let’s shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let’s make up for some of the things we didn’t do today. Let’s paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!”Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.“That was quick,” Ciara said with a look of astonishment.Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. “You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait, The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.Molly, perhaps I m clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me? I had to ask.Oh, my God! Molly stared at me. All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she d have some friends to socialize with.Well, Molly confessed. I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.I went to the show, because we told her we d both join her, there. I explained. When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn t want to be away from you.Ah, really? That s so sweet! Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I m so, so sorry.Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was hoping to get lucky with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.Oh, I was awful to you! Molly lamented. But I was also right about that slut s intentions, wasn t I? Molly paused, then added; When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn t come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn t even have lipstick smeared on your face.  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don t deserve you. You don t deserve my juvenile drama. I d planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.You know, Molly I paused. Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming? Do you think we can both help to balance each other?Oh, I love that! Yes, let s balance each other.The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we’d left it.We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn’t consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh,” she groaned. “Just five more minutes.”I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She’d been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.We hadn’t begun to pack yet, but we’d kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. “C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um.”She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.“Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?” I asked.She was folding one of her bras. “Oh, I don’t know. We’d probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually.”“They’d run out. Then we’d have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats.”“He gets cheesecake sometimes, don’t you think? When they have some left over?”“I don’t know. He’s pretty skinny.”“I wonder why Meryl didn’t think of him.”“Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose.”“I suppose.”I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. “Besides,” she said. “Your algorithms would miss you.”I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!I couldn’t help but smile. “I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there.”She rolled her eyebrows.But I was feeling a little playful. The final day’s schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.“Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you’ve got behind that sheet?”She wasn’t so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.“That shirt you’re wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?”She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.“Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers.” I held out my hand. “May I see it please?”She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the ot

A choice, a trap, and a necklace.By HectorBidon. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.The next morning’s sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.We’d become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That’s probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn’t, and I didn’t think that she had either.And yet, here we were.I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn’t. So I finally got up myself.We’d just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day’s schedule. She was delighted to discover that they’d transferred Mrs. Pendergast’s excursion ticket to me.A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara’s age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.“So how did you guys meet?”Molly didn’t volunteer an answer. "Just here on the cruise, actually,“ I said."Really? See, aren’t cruises great?” Molly gushed.After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.“The nicest thing.” she said. “is that every day you make new friends.”We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she’d met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we’d made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to the room.”Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly’s headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it upAfter the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.“Wouldn’t you just love to go dancing?” she cooed.“I, uh,  Actually, I’ve kind of got to go now.”“But the night is still young. Meryl rebutted. Let’s at least stop by my room first.”“I’ve got to check on Molly.” I insisted“We can open one of the tequilas.”“Thanks, but,"It’s just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight.”Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn’t need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.“Is your headache any better?” I asked.She didn’t look up from the screen.I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.“You didn’t miss much,” I said. “The show was kind of,”But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.OK. I got the message. She didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I’d only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we’d made the plans. I thought that she’d been trying to be friendly too. That we’d sort of taken Meryl under our wing.I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she’d ever offered to share the room in the first place.I didn’t even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I’d found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I’d thought that we’d both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn’t budge. Finally I got fed up and left.So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I’d gotten my single in the first place.I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn’t there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn’t told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.Molly still wasn’t in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn’t there when she got back.I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.“Where’s Molly?” asked Ciara.“She had a little headache. She might not be joining us.”Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.“Do you want to go back to the room?”We got up.“Oh, are you guys going to the revue?” asked Ciara.Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.“Make-up sex.”The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.“Can you forgive me?” she asked as we got out into the hallway.“For letting everybody know where we’re going?”“For last night. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”“The worst part is, we wasted a whole day,” I remorsed.“We still have tonight.” She tried to assure me.“Yeah. We still have tonight.” I agreed.As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other’s arms.“I love the necklace,” she murmured.“It looks really nice on you.”We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.“Let’s do something first, want to? I pleaded. It’s our last night. Let’s get our money’s worth. Let’s go to the show! Let’s go dancing! Let’s shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let’s make up for some of the things we didn’t do today. Let’s paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!”Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.“That was quick,” Ciara said with a look of astonishment.Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. “You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait, The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.Molly, perhaps I m clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me? I had to ask.Oh, my God! Molly stared at me. All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she d have some friends to socialize with.Well, Molly confessed. I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.I went to the show, because we told her we d both join her, there. I explained. When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn t want to be away from you.Ah, really? That s so sweet! Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I m so, so sorry.Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was hoping to get lucky with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.Oh, I was awful to you! Molly lamented. But I was also right about that slut s intentions, wasn t I? Molly paused, then added; When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn t come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn t even have lipstick smeared on your face.  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don t deserve you. You don t deserve my juvenile drama. I d planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.You know, Molly I paused. Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming? Do you think we can both help to balance each other?Oh, I love that! Yes, let s balance each other.The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we’d left it.We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn’t consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh,” she groaned. “Just five more minutes.”I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She’d been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.We hadn’t begun to pack yet, but we’d kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. “C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um.”She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.“Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?” I asked.She was folding one of her bras. “Oh, I don’t know. We’d probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually.”“They’d run out. Then we’d have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats.”“He gets cheesecake sometimes, don’t you think? When they have some left over?”“I don’t know. He’s pretty skinny.”“I wonder why Meryl didn’t think of him.”“Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose.”“I suppose.”I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. “Besides,” she said. “Your algorithms would miss you.”I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!I couldn’t help but smile. “I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there.”She rolled her eyebrows.But I was feeling a little playful. The final day’s schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.“Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you’ve got behind that sheet?”She wasn’t so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.“That shirt you’re wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?”She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.“Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers.” I held out my hand. “May I see it please?”She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the ot

A choice, a trap, and a necklace.By HectorBidon. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.The next morning’s sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.We’d become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That’s probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn’t, and I didn’t think that she had either.And yet, here we were.I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn’t. So I finally got up myself.We’d just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day’s schedule. She was delighted to discover that they’d transferred Mrs. Pendergast’s excursion ticket to me.A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara’s age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.“So how did you guys meet?”Molly didn’t volunteer an answer. "Just here on the cruise, actually,“ I said."Really? See, aren’t cruises great?” Molly gushed.After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.“The nicest thing.” she said. “is that every day you make new friends.”We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she’d met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we’d made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to the room.”Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly’s headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it upAfter the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.“Wouldn’t you just love to go dancing?” she cooed.“I, uh,  Actually, I’ve kind of got to go now.”“But the night is still young. Meryl rebutted. Let’s at least stop by my room first.”“I’ve got to check on Molly.” I insisted“We can open one of the tequilas.”“Thanks, but,"It’s just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight.”Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn’t need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.“Is your headache any better?” I asked.She didn’t look up from the screen.I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.“You didn’t miss much,” I said. “The show was kind of,”But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.OK. I got the message. She didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I’d only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we’d made the plans. I thought that she’d been trying to be friendly too. That we’d sort of taken Meryl under our wing.I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she’d ever offered to share the room in the first place.I didn’t even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I’d found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I’d thought that we’d both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn’t budge. Finally I got fed up and left.So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I’d gotten my single in the first place.I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn’t there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn’t told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.Molly still wasn’t in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn’t there when she got back.I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.“Where’s Molly?” asked Ciara.“She had a little headache. She might not be joining us.”Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.“Do you want to go back to the room?”We got up.“Oh, are you guys going to the revue?” asked Ciara.Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.“Make-up sex.”The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.“Can you forgive me?” she asked as we got out into the hallway.“For letting everybody know where we’re going?”“For last night. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”“The worst part is, we wasted a whole day,” I remorsed.“We still have tonight.” She tried to assure me.“Yeah. We still have tonight.” I agreed.As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other’s arms.“I love the necklace,” she murmured.“It looks really nice on you.”We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.“Let’s do something first, want to? I pleaded. It’s our last night. Let’s get our money’s worth. Let’s go to the show! Let’s go dancing! Let’s shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let’s make up for some of the things we didn’t do today. Let’s paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!”Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.“That was quick,” Ciara said with a look of astonishment.Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. “You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait, The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.Molly, perhaps I m clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me? I had to ask.Oh, my God! Molly stared at me. All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she d have some friends to socialize with.Well, Molly confessed. I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.I went to the show, because we told her we d both join her, there. I explained. When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn t want to be away from you.Ah, really? That s so sweet! Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I m so, so sorry.Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was hoping to get lucky with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.Oh, I was awful to you! Molly lamented. But I was also right about that slut s intentions, wasn t I? Molly paused, then added; When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn t come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn t even have lipstick smeared on your face.  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don t deserve you. You don t deserve my juvenile drama. I d planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.You know, Molly I paused. Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming? Do you think we can both help to balance each other?Oh, I love that! Yes, let s balance each other.The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we’d left it.We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn’t consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh,” she groaned. “Just five more minutes.”I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She’d been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.We hadn’t begun to pack yet, but we’d kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. “C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um.”She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.“Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?” I asked.She was folding one of her bras. “Oh, I don’t know. We’d probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually.”“They’d run out. Then we’d have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats.”“He gets cheesecake sometimes, don’t you think? When they have some left over?”“I don’t know. He’s pretty skinny.”“I wonder why Meryl didn’t think of him.”“Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose.”“I suppose.”I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. “Besides,” she said. “Your algorithms would miss you.”I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!I couldn’t help but smile. “I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there.”She rolled her eyebrows.But I was feeling a little playful. The final day’s schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.“Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you’ve got behind that sheet?”She wasn’t so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.“That shirt you’re wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?”She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.“Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers.” I held out my hand. “May I see it please?”She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the ot

Tar linn ar aistear as we flog dead horses, discuss the importance of a wink in story telling and discover erotic fantasy fiction (bhur moltaí uainn anseo le bhur dtoil). Freisin - Síomha's big fall ag an baby shower, pavlova Dhoireann agus anailís Louise ar bhuachaintí mhór Chiarraí le déanaí! Hup an Ghaeltacht, hup Jessie Buckley. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Dit is een aflevering over LEUKE DINGEN! Omdat plezier ook hoort bij verzet en omdat we zin hebben in LEUKS. Godnondeju, wat zijn we toe aan leuks. En wie anders daarvoor optrommelen dan queen van leuk: tegendraadse sociaal wetenschapper Linda Duits die er een heel boek over heeft geschreven. Wij activisten zijn soms nogal van het opgeheven vingertje en de zelfkastijding, maar kids, onderschat het belang van plezier niet - in ons werk en in ons leven. Over leuk gesproken: vinden we de femimisser-rubriek nog leuk? Ga voor de shownotes en het transcript naar https://www.damnhoney.nl/aflevering-255DAMN, HONEY wordt gemaakt door Marie Lotte Hagen en Nydia van VoorthuizenIn deze aflevering hoor je een advertentie voor IDFA en het Mauritshuis: Documentaire-FEEST IDFA strijkt neer in Amsterdam van 13 november t/m 23 november. Elf dagen lang kun je je hart ophalen aan de meest uiteenlopende documentaires. Laat je inspireren en laaf je aan verhalen van hoop en verzet. Ga naar idfa.nl voor het programma en de kaartverkoop. Hup, met die billen naar het Mauritshuis! Ga naar mauritshuis.nl/meisje voor het onderzoek en kom ook vooral het Meisje met de parel in HET ECHT ervaren. editwerk: Daniël van de Poppejingles: Lucas de Gier website: Liesbeth Smit DAMN, HONEY is onderdeel van Dag & Nacht Media. Heb je interesse om te adverteren in deze podcast? Neem dan contact op met Dag en Nacht Media via adverteren@dagennacht.nlSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

  Interviewees: Tom Pisano, MD PhD and Laura Ashley Stein, MD, MS, Ed. Interviewer: Lisa Meeks, PhD, MA Description: In Episode 111, Dr. Lisa Meeks talks with Dr. Tom Pisano (former Penn neurology resident; now neuro-hospital medicine and neuro-immunology fellow) and Dr. Laura Stein (Adult Neurology Program Director at Penn) about building an accessible neurology residency for a physician who uses a wheelchair—and how trust, planning, and culture made it work. Together, they trace Tom's match-day disclosure strategy and “find-your-people” approach, an accessibility walk-through with tape measures and ADA checks, and the practical creativity of equivalent rotations when sites differ in accessibility. They also unpack a real barrier—a security policy that blocked ED entry during stroke alerts—and how reframing access as patient safety moved the system. Listeners will hear candid advice for residents (hold onto your “why,” communicate early, invite teaching adaptations) and for program directors (start with goals, not habits; assume success; apply the same creativity you offer patients to your trainees). This episode accompanies a written case study and a Mini Grand Rounds conversation in Learn at ACGME. Part of the ACGME/DWDI Disability Resource Hub, supported by the Josiah Macy Jr. Foundation Catalyst Award, it's a practical guide for PDs, residents, and anyone committed to equitable clinical training.   Transcript: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xB_Cp8EiekJ9ExUZLP61EvE-0y4HUv22LuRp0D6uNB0/edit?usp=sharing Key words: Medical education, physical disability, disability research, residency, accommodations, wheelchair, SCI, medical technology, residency, neurology, program director, GME, GME Policy Bio: Laura Stein I have been involved in the Neurology Residency Program since 2018, and Director of the program since 2024. I teach residents on multiple inpatient services as well as in outpatient continuity clinic and stroke clinics. I also lead didactic sessions and workshops for resident onboarding and in our resident lecture series. I am particularly interested in expanding resident exposure to structured experiences in medical education and quality improvement and currently mentor multiple residents per year in medical education and quality improvement projects. In 2020, I was honored to receive the University of Pennsylvania Neurology Residents teaching award. I received my masters in medical education from the University of Pennsylvania in 2018. I have been a member of the American Academy of Neurology (AAN) Residency-In-Training Examination Committee since 2019. I have also been a member of the American Heart Association (AHA) Stroke Professional Education Committee since 2016 and currently serve as the Vice Chair of this committee. Clinically, I function predominantly as a neurohospitalist and attend on the stroke inpatient and consult services, the neurology ward service, and the PPMC consult service. I am dedicated to ensuring delivery of high-quality neurologic care across our system and currently am the physician co-lead for our neurovascular disease team, which spans our six-hospital network, as well as our HUP inpatient neurology unit-based quality improvement team. Tom Pisano I enjoy weekend bike rides with my wife, followed by trying out a new restaurant. When traveling, if possible, I always try to get in some monoskiing or scuba diving. I would also consider myself a (very) mildly competitive board gamer. I will be pursuing a combined neurohospitalist/neuroimmunology fellowship to develop expertise in myelopathies. My research includes brain-computer interfaces, especially of the spinal cord. Producer:  Lisa Meeks Follow Us: X: @DocsWith Instagram: @DocsWithDisabilities Linked In: https://www.linkedin.com/company/docs-with-disabilities-initiative Resources:  Disability Resource Hub: https://dl.acgme.org/pages/disability-resource-hub Case Studies in Disability Resource Hub: https://dl.acgme.org/pages/disability-resource-hub#case_studies UME to GME Toolkit:  https://dl.acgme.org/pages/disability-resource-hub-transitions-toolkit-introduction Policy Toolkit: https://dl.acgme.org/pages/disability-resource-hub-policy-toolkit Disability in Graduate Medical Education Program:  https://www.docswithdisabilities.org/digme   Link to Case Study: Coming Soon!              

Het was een historische avond in Euroborg met één grote hoofdrolspeler: Noam Fritz Emeran. Maarten kon zijn geluk niet op en genoot samen met het gehele stadion van de galavoorstelling die de tweede helft plaatsvond. Hup de studio is en flink nagenieten in aanloop naar het toetje van de competitie. Wil jij Kon Veel Minder de Podcast steunen en ook nog toegang krijgen tot exclusieve extra podcasts? Ga dan naar konveelminder.nl en word lid van onze petje.af-pagina.Bij onze sponsor The Online Retail Company krijgen jullie 16% procent korting op het hele assortiment met de kortingscode ‘KVM16'Steun hier Joost Kooistra https://www.tourduals.nl/fundraisers/joost-kooistra-2Onze andere sponsor is ToPay, zó veel makkelijker!Jan Westman danken we voor het mogen gebruiken van zijn foto's voor onze social media.Zie het privacybeleid op https://art19.com/privacy en de privacyverklaring van Californië op https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Special: parfait (van bloedsinaasappel)! Wat is het, hoe maak je het, waar komt het vandaan?Host Petra Possel bespreekt met Keukenprins Pieter een gerecht. Vandaag: parfait van bloedsinaasappel. Een gemakkelijke ijsbereiding, ook voor thuis. De ingrediënten, de verschillende fases van bereiding en de herkomst van parfait bespreken we in deze podcast.Over de ster van deze podcast: de bloedsinaasappel, over het zelf maken van heerlijk ijs en over de prille stappen van - toen nog géén keukenprins - Pieter in de keuken van topcateraar en traiteur Petra van Niftrik. Met parfait - de basis - kun je eindeloos variëren qua smaak. Klinkt als een cliché maar 't is wel zo. En ook in vorm: individuele (muffin-)vormpjes of bijvoorbeeld in een cakeblik of een tulbandvorm, voor het grotere werk. Vandaag met bloedsinaasappel in de bijrol. Bloedsinaasappel is niet het hele jaar door te koop. Januari, februari en maart zijn ze het best verkrijgbaar. Een typisch seizoensproduct. Fris, bitterzoet, zuur. Profiteer er van!Als je zelf aan de slag wil gaan met deze parfait: het recept staat online. Je vind het op onze website: parfait (glacé) van bloedsinaasappel.Hoe je zelf de geconfijte schilletjes van sinaasappel maakt kun je op je gemak terugkijken op Foodtube. Banketbakker Cees Holtkamp legt het met kleindochter Stella rustig uit. De repels van de sinaasappelschil, daar gaat het allemaal om. En alles komt bij elkaar als host Petra Possel het eindelijk mag proeven op het dessertbord. Hup: gauw naar de markt voor bloedsinaasappels, nu ze er nog zijn.Wil je Culinaire Vriend worden? Mail dan met adverteren@smakelijkpodcast.nl

 A choice, a trap, and a necklace. By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.  The next morning's sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back. We'd become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That's probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn't, and I didn't think that she had either. And yet, here we were. I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn't. So I finally got up myself. We'd just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier. Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive. She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day's schedule. She was delighted to discover that they'd transferred Mrs. Pendergast's excursion ticket to me. A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass. Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara's age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure. We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland. Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water. The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch. "So how did you guys meet?" Molly didn't volunteer an answer.  "Just here on the cruise, actually," I said. "Really? See, aren't cruises great?" Molly gushed. After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle. "The nicest thing." she said. "is that every day you make new friends." We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she'd met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles. Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we'd made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl. "I've got a bit of a headache," she said. "I think I'll go back to the room." Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly's headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it up After the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm. "Wouldn't you just love to go dancing?" she cooed. "I, uh,  Actually, I've kind of got to go now." "But the night is still young.” Meryl rebutted. “Let's at least stop by my room first." "I've got to check on Molly." I insisted "We can open one of the tequilas." "Thanks, but,” "It's just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight." Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn't need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away, When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV. "Is your headache any better?" I asked. She didn't look up from the screen. I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort. "You didn't miss much," I said. "The show was kind of," But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas. OK. I got the message. She didn't like the fact that I'd gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I'd only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we'd made the plans. I thought that she'd been trying to be friendly too. That we'd sort of taken Meryl under our wing. I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice. "I didn't expect to see you back here tonight," Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she'd ever offered to share the room in the first place. I didn't even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets. I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I'd found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I'd thought that we'd both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime? I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn't budge. Finally I got fed up and left. So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I'd gotten my single in the first place. I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn't there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly. It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn't told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth. The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs. The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light. Molly still wasn't in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck. There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn't there when she got back. I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual. "Where's Molly?" asked Ciara. "She had a little headache. She might not be joining us." Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again. Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace. It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over. "Do you want to go back to the room?" We got up. "Oh, are you guys going to the revue?" asked Ciara. Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said. "Make-up sex." The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her. "Can you forgive me?" she asked as we got out into the hallway. "For letting everybody know where we're going?" "For last night. I'm so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault." "The worst part is, we wasted a whole day," I remorsed. "We still have tonight." She tried to assure me. "Yeah. We still have tonight." I agreed. As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other's arms. "I love the necklace," she murmured. "It looks really nice on you." We kissed and shuffled toward the bed. But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day. "Let's do something first, want to?” I pleaded. “It's our last night. Let's get our money's worth. Let's go to the show! Let's go dancing! Let's shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let's make up for some of the things we didn't do today. Let's paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!" Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre. "That was quick," Ciara said with a look of astonishment. Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. "You ain't seen nothing yet." The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. "You can't hurry love, no you'll just have to wait,” The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,” Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink. “Molly, perhaps I'm clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me?” I had to ask. “Oh, my God!” Molly stared at me. “All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.” “What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she'd have some friends to socialize with.” “Well,” Molly confessed. “I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.” “I went to the show, because we told her we'd both join her, there.” I explained. “ When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn't want to be away from you.“ “Ah, really? That's so sweet!” Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. “I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I'm so, so sorry.” “Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was ‘hoping to get lucky' with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.” “Oh, I was awful to you!” Molly lamented. “But I was also right about that slut's intentions, wasn't I?” Molly paused, then added; “When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn't come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn't even have lipstick smeared on your face.”  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don't deserve you. You don't deserve my juvenile drama. I'd planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.” “You know, Molly” I paused. “Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming?” Do you think we can both help to balance each other?” “Oh, I love that! Yes, let's balance each other. “ The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we'd left it. We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand. I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed. I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck. And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn't consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused. The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp! Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh," she groaned. "Just five more minutes." I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She'd been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn't have had it any other way. We hadn't begun to pack yet, but we'd kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. "C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um." She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase. "Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?" I asked. She was folding one of her bras. "Oh, I don't know. We'd probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually." "They'd run out. Then we'd have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats." "He gets cheesecake sometimes, don't you think? When they have some left over?" "I don't know. He's pretty skinny." "I wonder why Meryl didn't think of him." "Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose." "I suppose." I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. "Besides," she said. "Your algorithms would miss you." I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway. When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had! I couldn't help but smile. "I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there." She rolled her eyebrows. But I was feeling a little playful. The final day's schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form. "Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you've got behind that sheet?" She wasn't so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher. "That shirt you're wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?" She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?. "Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers." I held out my hand. "May I see it please?" She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the other one. Then she pulled the shirt off over her head and handed it to me, all the while keeping herself demurely shielded from any and all prying eyes. I inspected the shirt, inside and out. White cotton, picture of a bamboo stalk, slightly warm. I brought it up to my nose. Girl smell, subtle but intriguing. I turned it over. No detectable contraband fibers. I made a mark on my customs form. "And what else do you have behind the sheet, Miss?" "Why nothing, Officer. Nothing at all." Couldn't I tell that she was just an innocent traveler trying to get back home? I took the edge of the sheet from her hand and gently pulled it back to see for myself. She'd been telling the truth. Nothing at all! She blushed. I made another mark on my customs form. "I'm afraid our machine is down today, Miss; the rest of the inspection will have to be performed manually. Would you please lie down here on the conveyor belt for me?" She huffed again. The things one had to put up with! But regulations were regulations. She stretched herself out on the bed, arms to her sides, completely nude, presenting herself for inspection, just the slightest hint of coy anticipation in her expression. I proceeded to administer a thorough frisking. I ran my hands up her calf, feeling for any irregularities. I ran them up her thigh, letting one hand brush her soft pubic hair as the other swept over the full round swell of her hip. I looked up and our eyes met. Looking back at me was the same pretty girl I'd had lunch with at the salad buffet, lying now before me, utterly nude, lips slightly parted, nipples blushing, letting me see and touch and pet and feel every square inch of her lovely body. I can only imagine what she might have read in my eyes, but I didn't reed anything in hers that told me not to continue what I was doing. I ran my hands up over her tummy, letting my fingers probe her belly button. I cupped her breasts and gently frisked her hardening nipples. "Ooh, Officer." But there was one part of her that needed to be inspected more thoroughly. I had her scoot down so that her bottom was still on the bed but her feet were on the floor. This brought her pretty vagina out of the shadows and onto center stage. The outer lips were flushed and slightly parted, revealing the swirly pink frills within. These were her most secret, private parts, and she was letting me see them, letting me run my thumb along their oystery ruffles, letting me daub my fingers with their musky secretion. I could very well have been back in the botanical garden, examining an exotic new species of tropical orchid. My penis insisted on being a part of the investigation. I dropped my pants and brought it up for comparison. It jutted out, sleek and firm like a totem of polished jungle hardwood, a dramatic contrast to her glistening swirls. I advanced it right up to the very heart of her ruffles, and they parted shyly to let it in. I maneuvered to find the perfect angle, the one our jungle bodies had found last night so effortlessly by themselves. She had propped herself up on her elbows to watch, but now she lay back down again, the same pretty girl who'd pressed up against me so contentedly on the tender. I thrust, savoring her frilly plushness. She purred and gave me a playful inner caress. I stroked and felt the beckoning strains of sweetness. A different phenotype certainly, but definitely the same species, breath-takingly different but exquisitely compatible: her circumference to my diameter, her ruffles to my teak, her warm, welcoming embrace to my clumsy determination. The same pretty girl who'd come to dinner after all. I thrust and thrust, and the sweetness blossomed like a velvety jungle flower, and she quivered and uttered a musky cry. After a slow fuck, while staring into each other's eyes, We cuddled for as long as we could. Finally, We went down the gangway into the terminal building to settle our accounts and have our passports stamped. Our bags were waiting on luggage carts outside. Molly had finally put her T-shirt back on along with a pair of Capri pants. Mrs. Pendergast had booked her one more night in Long Beach, at the Marriot, along with some of the other social groupers. I was going straight back to Pasadena. Her van arrived before my shuttle did, and she hustled off, rolling her suitcase. Jack and Ciara were going too. I wished them well. The driver took his time loading the bags, and Molly ran back to give me one last hurried kiss. Denise was standing nearby. Molly waved. "You were right," she called. It was a sweet sorrow watching her go back to San Bernardino. We'd exchanged numbers. I'd give her a call when we got back home. There was no reason to think we wouldn't see each other again. There was no reason to think we wouldn't have sex again. But not today. I felt happier than I'd felt in quite a while. And sadder. Denise stepped up beside me as the hotel van pulled away. "I told her you were a nice guy," she explained. “Yesterday, afternoon she had a lot of questions about you; and a lot of wrong presumptions. When we were done talking, I wasn't sure if she was going to let go of her fears about you. At her brief dinner appearance, it was like she was a completely different person.” She smiled, graciously, generously. "I'm glad the two of you hit it off." She didn't say it in a social-group-hook-up kind of way at all, but sincerely, one grown-up to another. Denise then handed me a check; ”Here's the full refund for your single-occupancy cabin. Mrs. Pendergast couldn't cancel soon enough to get any of her money back, so you officially just went in her place. One might suspect the woman was trying to pair up you and Molly, all along?” I looked at her, probably the first time I'd ever really looked her fully in the eye. I couldn't help but return her smile. "Well, you were right about one thing," I said. "The cruise was a lot of fun. I'm glad you finally convinced me to come.” Heading to the parking area, I relived the wonderful memories. I didn't have to be to work in Pasadena for a couple more days. I took the shuttle to my parking area, then finally found my car, and eventually paid the booth and began to drive out to the Queensway highway. Then my phone rang. “Hector!” It was Molly. “My god, Hector. I'm at the hotel, and this king size sweet is amazing! I need to share it with someone special. Can you help a lonely girl, from the hills?” I immediately diverted off the Queensway Drive and was in her hotel lobby within 5 minutes. 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.

Breaking news! Marc-Marie is schoon van zijn simpele kanker en Isa speelt NIET in Verliefd op Ibiza. Dat laatste sluit aan bij het thema van vandaag. Een plek waar ze beiden veel uren versleten hebben: het theater. Inclusief rode gordijnen, exclusief coulissen. Er zijn weer vierkante oogjes zichtbaar van al het buizen. Ja, ook weer Expeditie. Hup groepje blauw!

We zijn weer met z'n viertjes! Een hoop te bespreken dus. Laten we meteen met het meest opvallende beginnen: Hanneke wilde het over kinderen hebben. Gaat het wel goed met haar? En gaat het wel goed met Nynke? Zij blijkt tegen katten te praten, maar had wel een mega fashionopsteker. Anne was in slaap gevallen tijdens een breathwork-sessie en allemaal zijn we toch best wel verheugd met de nieuwe emoji's die zijn aangekondigd. Hup dode boom!Groeten

Steeds meer gevallen van grensoverschrijdend gedrag worden streng bestraft, maar is dat wel altijd terecht? Daphne van Paassen belicht deze week in De Groene de andere kant van de medaille: mensen die onterecht worden beschuldigd van grensoverschrijdend gedrag, met alle gevolgen van dien – zelfs nadat ze eenmaal zijn vrijgepleit.In deze aflevering gaat presentator Kees van den Bosch in gesprek met Daphne van Paassen, journalist en docent aan de Fontys Hogeschool voor Journalistiek. Ze bespreken hoe een systeem dat probeert slachtoffers te beschermen bij onveiligheid op de werkvloer, soms helemaal de mist in gaat.De podcast begint met een fragment uit NieuwZeer.De reconstructie over “de val van de rector”, Argos over Han van Krieken, vindt u hier.Lees ook: "Onveilig? Hup, op non-actief" – De Groene Amsterdammer.Productie: Kees van den Bosch en Tania Al Hashimi.Zie het privacybeleid op https://art19.com/privacy en de privacyverklaring van Californië op https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

ANOTHER Dark Crystal Age: of Resistance Episode??? Of course, because this week have the great privilege of sitting down with Henson Puppeteer Victor Yerrid!  Victor is of course the Puppeteer and Voice of fan favorite character (or at least Ben's favorite character) Hup! This was such a fun interview to do, and we are so excited we got the chance to sit down and talk with Victor about his process for creating such a fun and emotionally complex character. Victor has a long a storied career with the Jim Henson company, and it was an absolute joy to hear all about the various projects he's worked on over the years including Puppet Up!, Sid the Science Kid, Bear in the Big Blue House, and so many others! We hope you enjoy this episode as much as we did recording it! HUP HUP! PALADEEEEEEN!       Join the discussion on our discord! https://discord.gg/JDtWJrhPF6Follow us on twitter @PMoNPodcast and  Instagram and Threads @puppetmastersofnoneFind out more about the puppet masters on our website: https://puppetmastersofnone.wixsite.com/puppetmastersofnoneOriginal Music Composed by Taetro. @Taetro  https://www.taetro.com/

Segíti-e a társadalmi elfogadást, ha egyre többen hivatkozunk mentális betegségekre, és milyen következményei lehetnek, ha hibásan használjuk az ADHD vagy a nárcisztikus kifejezéseket? Melyek a legelterjedtebb tévhitek a női testtel kapcsolatban? Hogyan dolgoz fel egy médiaszereplő egy gyilkossági kísérletet?Reggeli műsorunkban Pásztor Anna érkezik Gulyás Marci mellé, ők ketten kérdezik majd egymást és vendégeiket: Dr. Benkovics Júlia szülész-nőgyógyász szakorvost, Dr. Hajduska-Dér Bálint pszichoterapeutát, valamint a Péntek Reggel készítőit, Szurovecz Illés szerkesztőt, Irsik Bence sound designert és Gondel András grafikus-animációst.A WeAreGloria social media oldalai:https://www.instagram.com/wergloria/https://www.youtube.com/@WeAreGLR Dr. Benkovics Júlia Instagram oldala: https://www.instagram.com/drbenkovicsjulia Nézd, olvasd, hallgasd - minden péntek reggel: https://pentekreggel.huPéntek Reggel Spotify-on:https://open.spotify.com/show/1nY4nBCFJZ5Y9DN0jQVNJpPéntek Reggel Apple Podcasten:https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/p%C3%A9ntek-reggel/id1716899618Támogasd te is a Partizánt adód 1 százalékával!Adószám: 19286031-2-42Név: Partizán Rendszerkritikus Tartalomelőállításért AlapítványMinden adó 1% infót és segítséget megtalálsz itt:https://szja1.partizanmedia.hu/Támogasd te is a Partizán munkáját!https://csapat.partizanmedia.hu/fundraising/partizan/Iratkozz fel a Partizán hírlevelére:https://csapat.partizanmedia.hu/forms/partizan-feliratkozasTovábbi támogatási lehetőségekről bővebben:https://www.partizanmedia.hu/tamogatasFacebook: https://facebook.com/partizanpolitika/ Facebook Társalgó csoport: https://www.facebook.com/groups/partizantarsalgoInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/partizanpolitika/TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@partizan_mediaPartizán RSS: https://rss.com/podcasts/partizan-podcast/Partizán saját gyártású podcastok:https://rss.com/podcasts/partizanpodcast/

In this episode of “How Do You Say That?!” sponsored by britishvoiceover.co.uk, writer and voice actor Debs Wardle joins Sam and Mark to talk about turning over your own characters to other voice actors, how to create exertion noises, and embodying the undead!Our VO question this week is all about what writers create first - the characters or the universe they live in.Get involved! Have you got a Wildcard suggestion that we should try or an idea for the show? Send it to us via Mark or Sam's social media or email it directly to podcast@britishvoiceover.co.ukScript 1(Sounds of a horse and cart being loaded) ‘Hup, the headmaster's chair, ‘hup the bench of the seven aldermen, and here, the bench for the rich gentlemen of the guilds… And isn't that the magistrate's hat? (mimicking/sarcastic) Luxury cloth. Exclusive and hard-wearing! (laughs) Come on, Frederic, let's go. We can come back later for the steward's furniture.Script 2Actually, I am from a noble family, thank you very much. My family held this land for generations, but after the conquest it was confiscated, handed over to those vile Normans, and they knocked down our family home and built this castle in its place. The conquest happened a little before my time, of course, but I'm told my poor grandfather never recovered. We were supposedly lucky because we were allowed to carry on living here – lucky to be allowed to carry on living full stop, actually. **Listen to all of our podcasts here - you can also watch on YouTube, or say to your smart speaker "Play How Do You Say That?!"About our guest: Debs Wardle is an Oxford based voice artist specialising in character work and narration along with commercial and e-learning. She's recently voiced for The Wandering Kitchen, Oxford Digital Media, and Oxford University Press. Debs particularly enjoys working on audio dramas and has lent her voice to several podcasts including The Cryo Pod Tapes, The Space Buccaneers, Clash of the Reasonably Epic People, and her own podcast Vamps; the fourth and final series of which was released at the end of 2023.Debs has a theatrical background with a Btec in Performing Arts and a BA in Drama. As well as being a voice artist, She's a writer, with recent credits including Death's Door forEvcol Entertainment and Window of Opportunity for Clockwork Digital Media.Debs's Website Debs on YouTube @debs.writervo on Instagram Debs's Facebook page Resources: Click here for the Wildcard Generator and don't forget to think of an action your character can be doing!Vamps on Apple Podcasts:

Arayı arayı bulsam izini / Kerem Önder 24.12.2016 Arayı arayı bulsam izini, İzinin tozuna sürsem yüzümü. Hak nasip eylese görsem yüzünü, Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni. Bir mübarek sefer olsada gitsem Kabe yollarında kumlara batsam Hup cemalin bir kez düşte seyretsem Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni. Zerrece kalmadı kalbimde hile Sıtk ile girmişim ben hak yola Ebu Bekir, Ömer, Osman'da bile Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni. Ali ile Hasan Hüseyin anda, Sevgisi gönülde, muhabbeti canda. Yarın mahşer gününde, ulu divanda Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni. Arafat dağıdır bizim dağımız Anda kabul olur bizim duamız Medine'de yatar Peygamberimiz Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni Yitirdim o dostu bilmem ne yanda? Sevgisi gönülde, muhabbet canda. Yarın mahşer günü ulu divanda, Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni. Yunus senin methin eder dillerde, Sevilirsin bütün bu gönüllerde. Ağlayı ağlayı gurbet ellerde, Ya Muhammed canım arzular seni. Yunus Emre

A choice, a trap, and a necklace.By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.The next morning’s sun found its way in through our porthole once again. We had sorted ourselves out somewhat during the night. I was on my side, tangled in a bit of sheet. She was on her side, tangled in a bit of blanket. I could just make out the pale tan lines on her bottom and her back.We’d become cabin buddies of a different order. At the Jack-and-Ciara level. That’s probably what most people would have assumed all along, but I certainly hadn’t, and I didn’t think that she had either.And yet, here we were.I waited a while for her to wake up, but she didn’t. So I finally got up myself.We’d just passed through the entrance in the seawall at Ensenada and were coming up to our docking site. The pilot, or maybe it was the captain himself, was standing on a little deck that jutted out from the side of the ship to joy-stick our massive vessel precisely up to the pier.Molly was still in bed when I got back. She smiled and went to the bathroom, a little embarrassed to be still naked while I was already dressed. Her pubic hair, I noticed, was trim and attractive.She came out wearing a towel and had her coffee. We checked the day’s schedule. She was delighted to discover that they’d transferred Mrs. Pendergast’s excursion ticket to me.A little later that morning we went ashore. It was a strange sensation, stepping off the gangway into a foreign country. Somehow I expected every little thing to be different and exotic, but the first thing we encountered, sprouting up through a crack in the pavement, was a little tuft of grass. Nothing exotic at all, just plain old grass.Our excursion van was heralded by a woman with a clipboard, a younger, more boisterous, Mexican Denise. There were three other couples in our group and a single unaccompanied woman about Ciara’s age. I took a seat next to the window with Molly beside me with the unaccompanied woman next to her. Her name was Meryl. This was her first real vacation since her divorce. She was really excited to be having such an adventure.We drove through the streets of Ensenada, our guide giving us a bit of local color in her prettily accented English. The scene was at once familiar and strange: traffic and lane markings and stop lights just exactly like at home, but unintelligible store signs in unlikely colors painted directly on pastel stucco walls. Beyond the city were dusty, cactus-strewn hills not unlike the Catalina hinterland.Our destination was a site called the Bufadora, a cleft in the rocky sea cliff where ocean waves sent up enormous geyser-like sprays. The sprays were so high that we got wet even at our vantage point fifty feet above the water.The path back from the observation point was lined with gaudy souvenir shops, like the midway of a county fair. Meryl had tagged along with Molly and me. We stopped at one of the taco stands for lunch.“So how did you guys meet?”Molly didn’t volunteer an answer.“Just here on the cruise, actually,” I said.“Really? See, aren’t cruises great?” Molly gushed.After lunch we went into one of the souvenir shops and Meryl asked our opinion about all the little nick-nacks she wanted to buy. When we got back to the van, I ended up sitting in the middle.“The nicest thing.” she said. “is that every day you make new friends.”We drove back through town, then out into the desert in a different direction to a picturesque winery. We sat around a table on a palm-shaded patio and sampled the different vintages. Meryl chatted on about Simi Valley and the cruise and her ex and the weather and the ship and the people she’d met. She got me to go into the little gift shop with her to help pick out a couple bottles.Molly was quiet at dinner. I had to remind her that we’d made plans to see the comedy show with Meryl.“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to the room.”Meryl was waiting in the forward theatre. She was sorry to hear about Molly’s headache and put her hand on my arm to convey her concern. The show turned out to be pretty adult-rated, pretty raunchy in fact. Meryl yucked it upAfter the show she suggested we take a spin about the deck. The ship had set sail again and we were just passing the exposed wreck that lies up against the sea wall. Somehow Meryl managed to tuck herself inside my arm.“Wouldn’t you just love to go dancing?” she cooed.“I, uh,  Actually, I’ve kind of got to go now.”“But the night is still young.” Meryl rebutted. “Let’s at least stop by my room first.”“I’ve got to check on Molly.” I insisted“We can open one of the tequilas.”“Thanks, but,”"It’s just that, I was kind of hoping to get lucky tonight.”Christ Almighty. A guy tries to be a gentleman. I didn’t need an etiquette book for this one. I finally managed to pry myself away,When I got back to the room, Molly was in her pajamas, watching TV.“Is your headache any better?” I asked.She didn’t look up from the screen.I sat on the chair and twisted around to see what she was watching. A travelogue of some sort.“You didn’t miss much,” I said. “The show was kind of,”But she leaned in closer to the screen to make it clear that I was interrupting her program. Something about the way the locals made their tortillas.OK. I got the message. She didn’t like the fact that I’d gone to the show with Meryl. I went into the bathroom to pee. I’d only been trying to be polite to a fellow cruise member. Was that a crime? Molly had been there when we’d made the plans. I thought that she’d been trying to be friendly too. That we’d sort of taken Meryl under our wing.I came out of the bathroom a minute later, and sat down on the chair again. The secret to the tortillas, apparently, had something to do with lime juice.“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Molly said. In a sarcastic tone of voice. As if my presence was an imposition. As if she was sorry she’d ever offered to share the room in the first place.I didn’t even bother to answer. I got undressed, then crawled up onto my side of the bed. Where else was I supposed to go? I got under the blanket and turned toward the bulkhead. A guy tries to be a gentleman. And this is what he gets.I woke up first again, the next morning. I went up on deck. Did she really think that I’d found Meryl even the least bit attractive? She was a fellow shipmate, nothing more. I’d thought that we’d both been trying to be polite to her. Was that a crime?I brought back coffee and a croissant, but Molly was still asleep. Or pretending to be. I banged around a little, but she didn’t budge. Finally I got fed up and left.So here I was again, back to my usual routine, wandering down empty corridors, drifting up little-used gangways, poking around lonely corners where nobody else much ever cared to go. Doing what I probably would have been doing if I’d gotten my single in the first place.I came back to the room around lunch time, but Molly wasn’t there. I wandered up to the pool. Denise was there, chatting with some people. She waved. Meryl was there, stalking about, but I managed to slip away before she saw me. But no Molly.It was a long day. The ship had parked itself out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Or maybe the rest of the world really had blown itself up and they just hadn’t told us. I eventually ended up back in the little coffee shop at the tail end of the ship. The sky seemed a lot flatter though, the seagulls a lot more listless, my algorithms a lot less interesting. Finally I got up again and trudged back down into the labyrinth.The casino was practically empty. The lower piano bar was closed. The little art gallery was still showing the same old photographs.The gift shop was open. The same lady was behind the counter. What was it that Molly had asked to see? A necklace. It must have been, that one. The lady brought it out. A pair of crystalline dolphins on a slender silver chain. They sparkled in the light.Molly still wasn’t in the room when I got back. This time our towel had been folded into a seal, sunning itself on the bedspread. I moved it a little closer to her pillow and arranged the necklace around its neck.There were still a couple hours until dinner. I thought it might be better if I wasn’t there when she got back.I got to dinner right on time. It was our last night on board, and the dining room was even more boisterous than usual.“Where’s Molly?” asked Ciara.“She had a little headache. She might not be joining us.”Valentin our waiter was really joshing it up, angling for a big end-of-trip tip. He was just taking the drink orders when Molly appeared. She was wearing a pink skirt, a whitish blouse,,  and the necklace. Her eye caught mine as she made her way around the table, but quickly shot away again.Ciara asked her how she was doing. The couple on my other side were there for once. Tom and somebody. He was in air conditioning and gave me the full rundown. It was too noisy for Molly and me to talk, but every time I looked, she was still wearing the necklace.It being our last night, the waiters were going to put on a little show. Just after they passed out the dessert plates they went into a huddle near the service entrance. Molly leaned over.“Do you want to go back to the room?”We got up.“Oh, are you guys going to the revue?” asked Ciara.Molly replied in the louder voice you had to use to make yourself heard. But the room was beginning to quiet down in a hush, as the waiters were taking their places, and so the whole table heard what she said.“Make-up sex.”The table burst into laughter. Molly continued her way out of the room, and I just followed sheepishly behind her.“Can you forgive me?” she asked as we got out into the hallway.“For letting everybody know where we’re going?”“For last night. I’m so sorry for the way I acted. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”“The worst part is, we wasted a whole day,” I remorsed.“We still have tonight.” She tried to assure me.“Yeah. We still have tonight.” I agreed.As soon as we got into the room we fell into each other’s arms.“I love the necklace,” she murmured.“It looks really nice on you.”We kissed and shuffled toward the bed.But my blood was pumping. I was thinking about our wasted day.“Let’s do something first, want to?” I pleaded. “It’s our last night. Let’s get our money’s worth. Let’s go to the show! Let’s go dancing! Let’s shoot for that royal flush! The bed will still be here when we get back. But let’s make up for some of the things we didn’t do today. Let’s paint the ship red. Okay? Want to? C'mon! Hup hup!”Jack and Ciara were surprised to see us at the theatre.“That was quick,” Ciara said with a look of astonishment.Molly blushed. I put my arm around her and pulled her tight. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”The review was Motown classics, the Supremes, the Four Tops. “You can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait,” The whole auditorium was singing along. The girls pulled Jack and me up from our seats to dance in the aisle. "Sugar pie, honeybunch, you know that I love you,”Afterwards, the night was balmy, perfect for a stroll on deck. We could see lights off in the distance, the rest of the world was still there after all! We ran into Meryl, wrapped in the arm of a dapper, middle-aged gentleman whose smile was just as smug as hers was. We exchanged pleasantries. She gave us both a little wink.“Molly, perhaps I'm clueless. Did you have any idea that Meryl was going to try to hit on me?” I had to ask.“Oh, my God!” Molly stared at me. “All day long, she was angling for you. I thought you were trying for a threesome, and my fake headache was me forcing you to choose one or the other.”“What? I thought you and I were just trying to be hospitable; you know, so she'd have some friends to socialize with.”“Well,” Molly confessed. “I finally figured out that you were completely innocent, but it took me until late afternoon to dispel my worst presumptions.”“I went to the show, because we told her we'd both join her, there.” I explained. “ When you were bedridden with a headache, I assumed it fell on me to go alone, even though I really didn't want to be away from you.““Ah, really? That's so sweet!” Molly gushed. She gave me a deep kiss right there on the mezzanine. “I assumed you went because you wanted another notch on your belt.  I'm so, so sorry.”“Well, when the performance ended, I said I had to head back to you. She did try every diversion. I passed on all of them. Then she flatly told me she was ‘hoping to get lucky' with me. I told her I definitely could not accommodate that, and I walked straight back to our room.”“Oh, I was awful to you!” Molly lamented. “But I was also right about that slut's intentions, wasn't I?” Molly paused, then added; “When I finally got over my inner rage, I realized that you didn't come back smelling like cunt. Hell, you didn't even have lipstick smeared on your face.”  This afternoon, I finally left my hiding spot, and saw you were heading to dinner, I went to the cabin and saw this beautiful necklace.  I literally cried. I don't deserve you. You don't deserve my juvenile drama. I'd planned to skip the dinner, but when I saw the dolphin necklace, I had to come and grovel your forgiveness.”“You know, Molly” I paused. “Perhaps I was too clueless, yesterday. Perhaps you were too presuming?” Do you think we can both help to balance each other?”“Oh, I love that! Yes, let's balance each other. “The nightclubs were hopping. We wound our way from one to the other, dancing one dance in each. But then we decided to forgo the casino and just head back to the cabin. And sure enough, the bed was still there, right where we’d left it.We kissed. I ran my hands up along her sides, up inside her blouse. She undid my buttons and pulled open my shirt. I fiddled with her skirt and managed to slip it down over the swell of her hips. She unfastened my belt buckle and my button and my zipper. I slid my hands down inside her panties. She slid hers down inside my underpants. We pawed and shucked and kicked off everything that remained. And then she took off the very last thing that she was wearing, the crystalline necklace, and placed it carefully on the nightstand.I backed her down onto the bed. I kissed the pretty spot where the necklace had been, and the spot next to that, and the spot next to that. She lay back and closed her eyes and let herself be kissed.I settled myself down on top of her, stroking her full lovely body with my own, savoring her softness and her excitement, trying to fuse our unfortunate separateness into something more fulfilling. And somehow, in the midst of our kissing and our stroking, my penis must have slid up at just the right angle, and her hips must have been open to just the right degree, and we coupled, as adroitly as if that had been our conscious intention, as naturally as if we were two jungle cats whose lithe jungle bodies just instinctively knew how to fuck.And somewhere in the midst of our coupling we sweetly came, but it was not so much a climax as just a sweet vista point along the way. For just as we hadn’t consciously willed our engagement, neither did we ever willfully disengage, but just eventually nestled more comfortably down beside each other, still caressing, still softly kissing, still sweetly fused.The loudspeaker blasted us awake early the next morning. Our luggage needed to be out in the hallway for pickup by eight o'clock sharp!Molly wriggled a bit deeper under the blanket. "Uh,” she groaned. “Just five more minutes.”I remembered the look on her face, when had it been? just four days ago, when we first learned we might have to share the cabin together. She’d been just as uncertain as I had. But now it was hard to imagine any other arrangement. Her lying in bed beside me, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep, leaving it up to me to keep track of the time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.We hadn’t begun to pack yet, but we’d kept things fairly organized. I gave her a generous five minutes, and then I gave her a little nudge. “C'mon, sleepyhead. Up and at um.”She groaned, but she dragged herself out of bed. We were both still naked. I slipped on a pair of boxers, and she put on a T-shirt. It rode up in back, though, so that her pretty bottom kept peeking out as she went around collecting her things and tucking them into her suitcase.“Do you kinda wish that the rest of the world really had blown itself up?” I asked.She was folding one of her bras. “Oh, I don’t know. We’d probably get tired of eating cheesecake eventually.”“They’d run out. Then we’d have to eat whatever it is that Valentin eats.”“He gets cheesecake sometimes, don’t you think? When they have some left over?”“I don’t know. He’s pretty skinny.”“I wonder why Meryl didn’t think of him.”“Yeah. Good question. Wrong table, I suppose.”“I suppose.”I crammed my sports coat in between my shirts and my underwear bag. She gave the zipper of her suitcase a final tug. “Besides,” she said. “Your algorithms would miss you.”I slipped on my trousers and rolled the bags out into the corridor. There were a surprising number of people walking by, and every single one of them gawked into the room as they passed. Nothing is more titillating to a person walking down a stateroom corridor than an open doorway.When I got the door closed again, Molly was sitting up on the bed with the sheet pulled up in front of her and a rather indignant look on her face. What a lot of nerve some people had!I couldn’t help but smile. “I wonder what they thought you were hiding back there.”She rolled her eyebrows.But I was feeling a little playful. The final day’s schedule was lying on the floor. I picked it up and pretended it was an official form.“Customs inspection, Miss, May I see what you’ve got behind that sheet?”She wasn’t so sure she wanted to show me. She coyly raised the sheet a little higher.“That shirt you’re wearing, Miss. Did you purchase it abroad?”She looked down behind the sheet. This old thing?.“Regulations, Miss; It may contain contraband fibers.” I held out my hand. “May I see it please?”She huffed. Bureaucrats! Without letting go of the sheet she wriggled one arm out of its sleeve and then the other one. Then she pulled the shirt off over her head and handed it to me, all the while keeping herself demurely shielded from any and all prying eyes.I inspected the shirt, inside and out. White cotton, picture of a bamboo stalk, slightly warm. I brought it up to my nose. Girl smell, subtle but intriguing. I turned it over. No detectable contraband fibers. I made a mark on my customs form.“And what else do you have behind the sheet, Miss?”“Why nothing, Officer. Nothing at all.” Couldn’t I tell that she was just an innocent traveler trying to get back home?I took the edge of the sheet from her hand and gently pulled it back to see for myself. She’d been telling the truth. Nothing at all! She blushed. I made another mark on my customs form.“I’m afraid our machine is down today, Miss; the rest of the inspection will have to be performed manually. Would you please lie down here on the conveyor belt for me?”She huffed again. The things one had to put up with! But regulations were regulations. She stretched herself out on the bed, arms to her sides, completely nude, presenting herself for inspection, just the slightest hint of coy anticipation in her expression.I proceeded to administer a thorough frisking. I ran my hands up her calf, feeling for any irregularities. I ran them up her thigh, letting one hand brush her soft pubic hair as the other swept over the full round swell of her hip.I looked up and our eyes met. Looking back at me was the same pretty girl I’d had lunch with at the salad buffet, lying now before me, utterly nude, lips slightly parted, nipples blushing, letting me see and touch and pet and feel every square inch of her lovely body. I can only imagine what she might have read in my eyes, but I didn’t reed anything in hers that told me not to continue what I was doing.I ran my hands up over her tummy, letting my fingers probe her belly button. I cupped her breasts and gently frisked her hardening nipples.“Ooh, Officer.”But there was one part of her that needed to be inspected more thoroughly. I had her scoot down so that her bottom was still on the bed but her feet were on the floor. This brought her pretty vagina out of the shadows and onto center stage. The outer lips were flushed and slightly parted, revealing the swirly pink frills within. These were her most secret, private parts, and she was letting me see them, letting me run my thumb along their oystery ruffles, letting me daub my fingers with their musky secretion.I could very well have been back in the botanical garden, examining an exotic new species of tropical orchid. My penis insisted on being a part of the investigation. I dropped my pants and brought it up for comparison. It jutted out, sleek and firm like a totem of polished jungle hardwood, a dramatic contrast to her glistening swirls.I advanced it right up to the very heart of her ruffles, and they parted shyly to let it in. I maneuvered to find the perfect angle, the one our jungle bodies had found last night so effortlessly by themselves.She had propped herself up on her elbows to watch, but now she lay back down again, the same pretty girl who’d pressed up against me so contentedly on the tender. I thrust, savoring her frilly plushness. She purred and gave me a playful inner caress. I stroked and felt the beckoning strains of sweetness.A different phenotype certainly, but definitely the same species, breath-takingly different but exquisitely compatible: her circumference to my diameter, her ruffles to my teak, her warm, welcoming embrace to my clumsy determination.The same pretty girl who’d come to dinner after all. I thrust and thrust, and the sweetness blossomed like a velvety jungle flower, and she quivered and uttered a musky cry.After a slow fuck, while staring into each other's eyes, We cuddled for as long as we could. Finally, We went down the gangway into the terminal building to settle our accounts and have our passports stamped. Our bags were waiting on luggage carts outside.Molly had finally put her T-shirt back on along with a pair of Capri pants. Mrs. Pendergast had booked her one more night in Long Beach, at the Marriot, along with some of the other social groupers. I was going straight back to Pasadena. Her van arrived before my shuttle did, and she hustled off, rolling her suitcase. Jack and Ciara were going too. I wished them well.The driver took his time loading the bags, and Molly ran back to give me one last hurried kiss. Denise was standing nearby. Molly waved. “You were right,” she called.It was a sweet sorrow watching her go back to San Bernardino. We’d exchanged numbers. I’d give her a call when we got back home. There was no reason to think we wouldn’t see each other again. There was no reason to think we wouldn’t have sex again. But not today. I felt happier than I’d felt in quite a while. And sadder.Denise stepped up beside me as the hotel van pulled away. “I told her you were a nice guy,” she explained. “Yesterday, afternoon she had a lot of questions about you; and a lot of wrong presumptions. When we were done talking, I wasn't sure if she was going to let go of her fears about you. At her brief dinner appearance, it was like she was a completely different person.” She smiled, graciously, generously. “I’m glad the two of you hit it off.” She didn’t say it in a social-group-hook-up kind of way at all, but sincerely, one grown-up to another.Denise then handed me a check; ”Here's the full refund for your single-occupancy cabin. Mrs. Pendergast couldn't cancel soon enough to get any of her money back, so you officially just went in her place. One might suspect the woman was trying to pair up you and Molly, all along?”I looked at her, probably the first time I’d ever really looked her fully in the eye. I couldn’t help but return her smile.“Well, you were right about one thing,” I said. “The cruise was a lot of fun. I'm glad you finally convinced me to come.”Heading to the parking area, I relived the wonderful memories. I didn't have to be to work in Pasadena for a couple more days. I took the shuttle to my parking area, then finally found my car, and eventually paid the booth and began to drive out to the Queensway highway. Then my phone rang. “Hector!” It was Molly. “My god, Hector. I'm at the hotel, and this king size sweet is amazing! I need to share it with someone special. Can you help a lonely girl, from the hills?”I immediately diverted off the Queensway Drive and was in her hotel lobby within 5 minutes.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.

Geen jaar is écht afgesloten wanneer Boxie en Albrecht er niet een klein plasje over hebben gedaan.Want welke muzikale miskleunen passeerden dit jaar de revue? Of is terugblikken louter voor chroniqueurs en blijven de heren podcastmakers lekker in de kerstsferen? Ach wat dondert het. Boxie en Albrecht laten zich niet sturen immers. Hup, inpakken, strik eromheen en uw feestdagenspecial is wrapped! Een dikke auditieve kus en tot volgend jaar!

Isidor Schwaner Ravdin was a second-generation American and a fourth-generation physician who combined research with surgery and completely changed the fields of both.  During his 40+ years at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, Ravdin rose to become Chief of Surgery and Director of Research.    During World War II, he ran what Vinegar Joe Stillwell called “the best g**d*** hospital in the Army” during the China Burma India campaign.  When President Eisenhower was struck with a bowel obstruction in 1956, Ravdin was summoned to Washington to perform the surgery.  He even appeared as a heroic character in a popular cartoon strip of his time.    If you have visited the HUP campus, you have almost certainly walked through the Ravdin pavilion.  It is his story I will tell you in this episode of Biographical Bytes from Bala #026 – The Surgeon Is a General. 

In this 'BarbieHeimer' special episode, we return to the plastic doll, to talk about materialism, symbolism and the souvenirs in international law.  Emily Crawford and Jacqueline Mowbray walk us through their Souvenirs in International Law exhibit and project; and where Barbie features in their exhibit, as well as introducing us to Doudou Louis, the Louis Vuitton UNICEF Bear. To submit your own international law souvenir:  @atthevanishingpoint on Instagram.Professor Emily Crawford is at the University of Sydney Law School, where she teaches and researches in international law, international humanitarian law and international criminal law. She has published widely in the field of international humanitarian law, including three monographs (The Treatment of Combatants and Insurgents under the Law of Armed Conflict (OUP 2010), Identifying the Enemy: Civilian Participation in Hostilities (OUP 2015) and Non-Binding Norms in International Humanitarian Law: Efficacy, Legitimacy and Legality (OUP 2021)) and a textbook (International Humanitarian Law (with Alison Pert, 2nd edition, CUP 2020)). She is an associate of the Sydney Centre for International Law at the University of Sydney, and a co-editor of the Journal of International Humanitarian Studies.Associate Professor Jacqueline Mowbray also at the  University of Sydney Law School, is the external legal adviser to Australia's Parliamentary Joint Committee on Human Rights. Her work uses critical theory to explore the operation of international law, and focuses on international law and language policy, and economic, social and cultural rights. Her monograph Linguistic Justice: International Law and Language Policy was published by OUP in 2012. Her second monograph, The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: Commentary, Cases, and Materials (co-authored with Saul and Kinley) was winner of the 2015 American Society of International Law Certificate of Merit. Additional Resources:Jessie Hohmann and Daniel Joyce (eds), International Law's Objects, OUP, 2018. Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste, HUP, 1987. Marcel Mauss, The Gift, Routledge, 1950.For Barbie about town, see @intlawbarbie on Twitter/X! 

I Don't Wanna Hear It Podcast230 - Matt Moment: SKAlarMikey: I moved 'studios' (rooms) two days prior to recording this one and I also upgraded my microphone to cut down on background noise. But there are some plosives (some p's poppin' and some b's boppin') on my end this week because I THOUGHT I didn't need my pop filter. I'M SORRY I'M NOT AN ENGINEER. It'll be fixed for the next episodeSTOPDON'TFREAKOUT.Anyway, Shane is greasing palms and drinking blood in D.C. at the moment, HENCE Matt Moment has joined me so we can give you more of what you never wanted. Hup, hup, hup! PickituppickituppickituuuuuupppOH FUCK YOU.Also, we've included a tour update direct from the Contact minivan. It's very uplifting.Check out more of our stuff at I Don't Wanna Hear It and join the Patreon, jabroni. I mean, if you want. Don't be weird about it. Oh, and we publish books now at WND Press because we want to be bankrupted by a dying medium.We now have a Big Cartel where you can buy shirts, pins, mugs, and coffee.Aaannnddd... our good buddy and frequent third host Matt Moment is in a great hardcore band called Contact. Check 'em out! You can preorder their upcoming record, Before and Through and Beyond All Time right here from Patient Zero Records.Episode Playlists:Do the Ska: A Jamaican Ska Playlist by Matt MomentSka Snobs: Traditional Ska From Third Wave ArtistsEpisode Links:Time HeistWith HonorSome of our old bands are on Spotify:Absent FriendsWe're Not DeadYears From NowMusical Attribution:Licensed through NEOSounds. License information available upon request.“5 O'Clock Shadow,” “America On the Move,” “Baby You Miss Me,” “Big Fat Gypsy,” “Bubble Up,” “C'est Chaud,” “East River Blues,” “The Gold Rush,” “Gypsy Fiddle Jazz,” “Here Comes That Jazz,” “I Wish I Could Charleston,” “I Told You,” “It Feels Like Love To Me,” “Little Tramp,” “Mornington Crescent,” “No Takeaways.”

What's that you hear high up on an Irish cliff, soaring with the birds? It's the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast #612. Willos', Irishtown Road, The Jig Is Up!, Arise & Go, Amelia Hogan, We Banjo 3, The Carroll Sisters, Giant's Dance, Logical Fleadh, Tan and Sober Gentlemen, Ockham's Razor, Band O'Brothers, Highlander Celtic Rock Band Australia, Jim Sharkey GET CELTIC MUSIC NEWS IN YOUR INBOX The Celtic Music Magazine is a quick and easy way to plug yourself into more great Celtic culture. Subscribe and get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 FOR 2023 This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. You can vote for as many songs and tunes that inspire you in each episode. Your vote helps me create next year's Best Celtic music episode.  Vote Now! Two weeks after the episode is launched, I compile your votes to update a playlist on Spotify and YouTube. These are the results of your voting. You can help these artists out by following the playlists and adding tracks you love to your playlists. Follow us on Facebook to find out who is added each week. Listen on Spotify and YouTube. THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC 0:02 - Intro: Christa Burton 0:14 - Willos' & Massimo Giuntini feat. Martino Vacca "Pipers Paradise" from From Now On 5:03 - WELCOME 7:23 - Irishtown Road "O'Keefe's Slide / Kerry Dance / Michael's Farewell To Glasgow" from On the One Road 12:19 - The Jig Is Up! "When First Unto This Country  -  Christmas Eve" from On Yer Toes! 16:22 - Arise & Go "Waltz & Reels: The Jewels Of The Ocean / The Humours Of Tulla / Last Summer's Reel" from Meeting Place 19:47 - Amelia Hogan "Manx Lullaby" from Taking Flight 23:16 - FEEDBACK 27:38 - We Banjo 3 "High On A Mountain (Live)" from Live in Galway 31:29 - The Carroll Sisters "Fairy Queen" from Daybreak 35:46 - Giant's Dance "Cunla/The Frieze Breeches" from Giant's Dance 40:22 - Logical Fleadh "The Ballad of Saint James" from Logical Fleadh (17 - Track Album) 44:33 - THANKS 46:21 - Tan and Sober Gentlemen "Heart is Haunted" from Regressive Folk Music 49:17 - Ockham's Razor "Buile Shuibhne (The Frenzy of Sweeney)" from Secrets and Silence 54:30 - Band O'Brothers "Nancy Whiskey" from Band O'Brothers 58:47 - Highlander Celtic Rock Band Australia "Galloway" from North of the Wall 1:02:46 - CLOSING 1:04:04 - Jim Sharkey "Vignettes" from Misty Morning Rain 1:09:03 - CREDITS The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather and our Patrons on Patreon. The show was edited by Mitchell Petersen with Graphics by Miranda Nelson Designs. Visit our website to subscribe to the show. You'll find links to all of the artists played in this episode. Todd Wiley is the editor of the Celtic Music Magazine. Subscribe to get 34 Celtic MP3s for Free. Plus, you'll get 7 weekly news items about what's happening with Celtic music and culture online. Best of all, you will connect with your Celtic heritage. Finally, please tell one friend about this podcast. Word of mouth is the absolute best way to support any creative endeavor. Promote Celtic culture through music at http://celticmusicpodcast.com/. WELCOME TO THE IRISH & CELTIC MUSIC PODCAST * Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. I am Marc Gunn. I'm your friendly neighborhood musician and podcast. This Podcast is here to build our diverse Celtic community and help the incredible artists who so generously share their music with you. If you hear music you love, please email artists to let them know you heard them on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast. You can find a link to all of the artists in the shownotes, along with show times, when you visit our website at celticmusicpodcast.com. I had such a fantastic time on my Celtic Invasion of County Mayo. I kept a personal blog on the trip that I'll publish in the coming weeks. You can also find pictures scattered across my different profile pages. If you're thinking of going, I think my favorite things were the cliffs on Achill Island. There were some stunning views. And my absolute favorite was Downpatrick Head. There were more stunning views, but there was a blowhole that went under the cliffs which made it interesting to see too. Next month, I'm launching a Kickstarter for the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast. I'm raising money for some album pins to promote the show. I would really LOVE your support. You can follow the Kickstarter campaign through the website. THANK YOU PATRONS OF THE PODCAST! Because of Your kind and generous support, this show comes out at least four times a month. Your generosity funds the creation, promotion, and production of the show. It allows us to attract new listeners and to help our community grow. As a patron, you get music - only episodes before regular listeners, vote in the Celtic Top 20, and you get a private feed to listen to the show.  All that for as little as $1 per episode. A special thanks to our newest Patrons of the Podcast: Deborah S R, John HERE IS YOUR THREE STEP PLAN TO SUPPORT THE PODCAST Go to our Patreon page. Decide how much you want to pledge every week, $1, $5, $10. Make sure to cap how much you want to spend per month. Keep listening to the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast to celebrate Celtic culture through music. You can become a generous Patron of the Podcast on Patreon at SongHenge.com. TRAVEL WITH CELTIC INVASION VACATIONS Every year, I take a small group of Celtic music fans on the relaxing adventure of a lifetime. We don't see everything. Instead, we stay in one area. We get to know the region through its culture, history, and legends. You can join us with an auditory and visual adventure through podcasts and videos. Where are we going in 2024? Subscribe to the mailing list and Learn more about the invasion at http://celticinvasion.com/ #celticmusic #irishmusic #celticmusicpodcast I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? You can take a screenshot of the podcast on your phone. You can send a written comment along with a picture of what you're doing while listening. Or how about a picture you took of a band that you saw. How would you like to introduce an episode of the podcast? It's super easy. Contact me for details. Email me at celticpodcast@gmail, message me on Facebook, or contact me through Mastodon @celtfather@c.im. Richard Medaugh emailed photos: Rising A Pint of Guinness at the Gaelic League  -  Irish American Club in Detroit, Michigan on Saint Pádraig Day 2023 – Sláinte Russ Gaudet emailed photos: "Hello there, Yes the Knights of Columbus had a very successful St Patrick's Day dinner and dance at our Church in Middleton, NS Here are a couple of pictures to prove it. Cheers" Ann Peck McBride emailed photos: "My Ceili group, Ceili of the Valley, here in Salem Oregon, has a "walkabout" every St Patrick's Day, complete with the Willamette Valley Pipes and Drums. Everyone wears green and has a good time!" Caz of Crikwater emailed photos: “Marc, Thanks for reaching out…Happy belated St Patrick's Day!  we have a bunch of pics from last weekend.  Buffalo,NY goes all out for the High Holy days…we have 2 huge parades!!!!(and two irish fests over the summer) ..one parade on Saturday through the Old Irish Neighborhood and one on Sunday through the middle of Downtown…so that results in a BIG Party weekend with LOTS of gig opportunities… We played 16 shows in three weeks in March (all on weekends)..Last weekend alone we played 7 gigs in 72hrs!!! NOBODY in the music biz works harder than Irish musicians in the month of March!!! Hup! I'm attaching a few pics for you.” CRIKWATER Pic 1…We played KeyBank Arena at an NHL game to a crowd of 19,000  -  pregame & between periods of the Sabres v Bruins on Sunday 3/19 CRIKWATER Pic 2…Sportsmens Tavern, Buffalo NY..sold out CRIKWATER Pic 3… Ploughshares Barn, Canandaigua, NY..sold out CRIKWATER Pic 4…Molly Maguires Pub, SouthBuffalo, NY..max capacity(we definitely exceeded Fire code - don't mention that please

Brett Preiss was born in a mining town in the hot, dry outback of Australia. With itchy feet and longing for sea air, he headed to the tropical east coast. It was the perfect place to go to university, surf, and eat his first mango. When he discovered there was a world beyond Down Under, he packed his bags, and for the next thirty years taught internationally in Japan, Germany and The Netherlands. He is an author, ESL teacher, musician and mindfulness instructor. He also loves to tell jokes and tap dance (not at the same time!). Before diving into the rich material his life provides, Brett entered the writing foray with his first book Go, Percy! Go!, which was published in English and then in Dutch as Hup, Peter! Hup! His second book, I'm Crazy About Holland Because . . . , was a chance to share his love for cows, cheese and clogs. He enjoys creating resources for educators, as well as writing fiction for children and adults. One of his favourite quotes is from an English author, Humphrey Carpenter: “The nice thing about being a writer is that you can make magic happen without learning tricks”. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Miles is joined by Megan Laverty (Columbia, USA) and Evgenia Mylonaki (Patraas, Greece) to discuss their joint reading of Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals. You can find out substantive handout for the podcast where they highlight their reading here: Megan is an Associate Professor and Director of the Philosophy and Education Program at Teachers College, Columbia University. She teaches graduate courses on ethics, aesthetics, and philosophy of education. Megan is the author of Iris Murdoch's Ethics: A Consideration of her Romantic Vision (Bloomsbury, 2007) and contributed a chapter on civility to The Murdochian Mind (Routledge, 2022) https://www.tc.columbia.edu/faculty/ml2524/ Evgenia is assistant professor of Practical Philosophy at the Philosophy Department of the University of Patras, Greece. Her written work is primarily in ethics (moral experience and virtuous reasoning) and the philosophy of action (metaphysics of action, practical knowledge, and rationality). She is the co-editor of the book Reason in Nature (out in 2022 by HUP, co-edited with Matthew Boyle, University of Chicago). https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674241046 She works on the philosophies of Iris Murdoch, Elizabeth Anscombe and Philippa Foot and I have a special philosophical interest in animal lives, in the collapse of ways of living and in art (film, photography and the novel). I am currently working on a book project with the title "Moral Growth; A Study of Ethics in Experience". You can find her published work, and her website, via these links. https://www.springerprofessional.de/en/the-individual-in-pursuit-of-the-individual-a-murdochian-account/16322292 https://periodicos.sbu.unicamp.br/ojs/index.php/manuscrito/article/view/8654130/18852 https://www.evgeniamylonaki.net/

Biden voert de Inflation Reduction Act in. Een wet die neerkomt op een hoop overheidssubsidies voor de Amerikaanse industrie: paniek in Europa. Dat gaan we natuurlijk pan-Europees oplossen. Hup, snel die geldpersen aan! Met prof. dr. Harald Benink. - Lees en kijk hier de speech van Ursula von der Leyen (https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/speech_22_7487) over de Infaltion Reduction Act 

Nick, Sav and Mark finish up Frehley's Comet. Calling Rock Soldiers! Hup! Two three four, Rock! Two three four! Join us as we finish this up and see what our reactions to this album are now that we have listened to it again after all these years!

Energy is everything. If we don't have energy we can't do much of anything. It's important for you to have energy not just for yourself, but so you're there for others. Furthermore, we may have energy — but what if we're full of negatively-charged energy? Students of many Okinawan, Japanese, and Korean martial arts styles — including Shotokan, Taekwondo, Aikido, Karate, Goju-ryu, Kobudo, Kendo, Kyokushin, and Judo — use a kihup (sometimes spelled kiai, kihap, or kyup) to startle an opponent, intimidate, or to exude confidence. Kihup comes from two root words. "Ki" is energy or life force. "Hup" means to gather or concentrate. Therefore, a kihup is a gathering or concentration of energy and power. A kihup serves many purposes, but it's always synchronized with movement. It conjures up greater force when striking. It protects our bodies by exhaling and preventing getting the wind knocked out of us if we get hit. It intimidates an opponent or assailant. And it increases our confidence while relieving anxiety as it releases negative energy at the same time it's "working in" good energy. Tim and Steve talk about this amazing burst of air, which some even call a spirit shout.

Hup, gooi dat werk neer en de barricades op. Wat de NS'ers kunnen, kun jij beter. Met de gierende inflatie en een energiecrisis van heb ik jou daar, verwachten Maarten en Tom een herfst vol stakingen en protesten.

We hit 300 episodes on the Hearts Unleashed Podcast! I am so happy and grateful to share 3 things I learned in my 300 (and 1) podcast episodes. We started HUP back in 2018 and I can remember the night it went live. I can remember the Starbucks I was sitting at when we hit 10k downloads. I remember crossing 100 episodes and 50k downloads. This podcast has been such a transformational project and labor of love. I share my own unleashed heart to light the way for you and many. It is a pleasure and an honor to reach the 300th episode in 5 seasons over the last four years. I am deeply grateful for every single listen, share, review, subscription, and opportunity to unleash your heart! Cheers to many more!

Guess what? Aran is back....... And he's broke; shoes, wallet, the whole lot. So no better man to find than that Leprechaun with his fat crock of gold. In this episode Aran and Luke pull together stories from the ages to find the origins of the Leprechaun. How did all the tropes come to be? Hop in and found out with some gorgeous ambient music accompaniment by Gareth Quinn Redmond and plenty of hearthy chuckles. Hup

Join me for a conversation with professional podcaster, Kristin Fitch. First and foremost, an Encourager- whether through speaking, podcasting, writing, encouragement coaching or online business & tech mentoring, Kristin is on a mission to encourage you in life & business. She is encouraging us in today's episode to step up and out and share our authentic leadership. She is also teaching you some of the ins and outs of having a podcast. Kristin is the host of Building a Life You Love and Spark of Faith podcasts. With over 20 years of experience, Kristin has worked in the online space helping businesses grow by using their online presence and passions and she has joined us on HUP to help us shift from dreaming to doing. Join us today!

E3 is officially cancelled this year, which is making people wonder if it's officially dead and we just don't know it yet. More signs of serious trouble in the food delivery space. Facebook has fixed a bug that let harmful content into the news feed for six months. And of course, the weekend longreads suggestions.Sponsors:Wealthfront.com/techmemeLinks:E3 2022 - Digital and Physical - Has Officially Been Canceled (IGN)Food Delivery Stocks Lose $24 Billion in Just Three Months (Bloomberg)A FACEBOOK BUG LED TO INCREASED VIEWS OF HARMFUL CONTENT OVER SIX MONTHS (The Verge)Apple emergency update fixes zero-days used to hack iPhones, Macs (BleepingComputer)Weekend Longreads Suggestions:Online shopping in the middle of the ocean (RestOfWorld)Want to See the Weirdest of Wikipedia? Look No Further. (NYTimes)Why Moderating Content Actually Does More To Support The Principles Of Free Speech (TechDirt)A History of Hup, the Jump Sound of Shooting Games (Wired)In the Shadow of the Star Wars Kid (Waxy.org)See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hank Hanegraaff and his son David continue their discussion with focus on Hanks magnum opus Truth Matters, Life Matters More: The Unexpected Beauty of an Authentic Christian Life.https://www.equip.org/product/cri-resource1909hup/ See Episode 79 Journey through Cancer and Eastern Orthodoxy Hanks Conversation with David Hanegraaff, Part One also. Topics discussed include: Salvation transcends transaction, pointing to transformation and union with God (0:35); Truth Matters, Life Matters More is Hanks most profoundly personal and surprising book (1:55); saved by a miracle (see HUP 079 Journey through Cancer and Eastern Orthodoxy Hanks Conversation with David Hanegraaff, Part One at 1:45) (6:10); following truth wherever it leads (7:30); writing and rewriting (8:00); physical facts do not fix all the facts (9:15); must learn to read literature properly (9:40); outlandish biblical interpretations within evangelicalism motivated search that led to Orthodoxy (10:00); should Christians ask and pray for forgiveness for sin? (10:40); ancient sacrament of confession (11:00); life matters more, but truth is necessary (11:45); why not just skip to part two of book? (12:45); facts are necessary but vulnerability attracts (14:00); issue of Sacred Tradition (15:30); Tradition vs traditionalism (16:45); Tradition is the Bible rightly interpreted (17:55); Bible passed down through people closely associated with the original writings therefore better able to translate and interpret Scripture (18:00); Irenaeus and Ignatius (20:00); solace in consulting early Church Fathers' interpretation (21:00); no lone ranger Christians need the church, ground and pillar of truth, which dispensed the necessary graces of God (23:00); Fusion and the imperative for Christian unity, and the Lords High Priestly prayer (John 17) (23:50); fusion is difficult, fission is easy (24:30); in essentials unity (26:50); in nonessentials liberty thus God has His people everywhere (28:40); unity not uniformity (32:30); Hank learned much from David (33:10); David awaiting birth of firstborn baby (33:40) UPDATE: Smush is a boy!; grand parents are heroes (34:35); Kathy and oneness in marriage (38:05); reading and meeting Jean Claude Larchet, The Theology of Illness https://www.equip.org/product/cri-resource-the-theology-of-illness/ (39:25); Father Alex Karloutsos asks, What engendered the most fear, being ostracized for becoming Orthodox, or cancer diagnosis? (41:25); first thought at cancer diagnosis (42:50); ultimately not about living or dying but about living well to the glory of God (47:50); Hanks hope for Truth Matters, Life Matters Hope (48:25); paradigm shift from transaction to transformation (49:00); focus on larger arch from creation to redemption and experience now life that is life to the full union with God https://www.equip.org/product/cri-resource-cri1909wa/(see HUP 079 at 43:20) (49:15); catching on within body of Christ Wilbourne's Union with Christ (51:15); that the church can become the church again (51:50); John Dickerson's Great Evangelical Recession https://www.equip.org/product/cri-resource-cri1808wa/(52:15); church life is necessary receive the graces of God through the church (52:30); Romans 12 (53:20); paramount grace is the Eucharist, and there are other graces (53:50); sacrament of confession (54:10); that the church would worship God in spirit and in truth (54:50); the body of Christ may be one; fusion (55:35); closing thoughts (56:00). Listen to Hanks podcast and follow Hank off the grid where he is joined by some of the brightest minds discussing topics you care about. Get equipped to be a cultural change agent. You can help spread the word about Hank Unplugged by giving us a rating and review from all the channels we are listed on