Podcasts about Hup

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

[click here for the transcript in English] >>> intro Welkom in deze nieuwe aflevering van onze podcast Let's Talk About Work! Vandaag schuift een boeiende gast uit de wereld van leren en ontwikkelen bij ons aan. Bart Wuyts gaat in gesprek met Christophe Jacobs, chief customer success officer bij FLOWSPARKS. Christophe is expert op vlak van pedagogische wetenschappen en digitaal leren, en neemt ons mee in de wereld van e-learning en zelfgestuurde opleidingen. Samen zoomen we in op de uitdagingen én de mogelijkheden die digitale tools bieden om leren toegankelijk en inclusief te maken. Van digitale vaardigheden tot toegankelijkheid voor mensen met specifieke noden: Christophe deelt zijn inzichten, praktische tips én concrete voorbeelden. Een inspirerend gesprek voor iedereen die werk maakt van levenslang leren en inclusie op de werkvloer. Beste luisteraars, welkom op deze nieuwe podcast aflevering Let's Talk about Work! We hebben vandaag een gast uit de commerciële wereld op bezoek, Christophe Jacobs. Ik moet eens goed kijken op mijn papier, want Christophe is chief customer success officer bij FLOWSPARKS. Wat doet een chief customer success officer? Chief customer success officer bij FLOWSPARKS is verantwoordelijk voor het succes die onze klanten halen in het gebruik van onze tool dat een zeer brede invulling betreft en voor mij specifiek komt dat erop neer dat ik enerzijds een ploeg aanstuur die effectief onze klanten gaat adviseren rond het gebruik van FLOWSPARKS, wat een e-learning tool is. Dat moet je even uitleggen, wat is FLOWSPARKS, want anders weten we niet waar we het over hebben. FLOWSPARKS is een e-learning platform die organisaties in staat stelt om hun eigen zelf gestuurde digitale opleidingen aan te maken, gestoeld op didactische principes wat een beetje de kern is van onze tooling. In onze wereld noemen dat een e-learning authoring tool. Maar daarnaast is het ook een platform die ervoor zorgt dat je wat je gemaakt hebt van opleidingen of opleidingsinitiatieven ook kan gaan uitrollen naar deelnemers, toegang geven aan mensen die die opleiding moeten gaan volgen. En natuurlijk als je een stuk inhoud hebt en je hebt het platform waar mensen dat gaan bezoeken, heb je natuurlijk ook rapportages. Dat is het derde luik van FLOWSPARKS, rapporten om in te kijken wie heeft wat gevolgd op welk moment. We gaan in dit gesprek niet in de eerste plaats reclame maken voor FLOWSPARKS, maar het kan natuurlijk niet zonder dat we dat even toelichten. We hebben jou hier in de eerste plaats toch aanwezig als expert op vlak van pedagogische wetenschappen. Je bent master in de pedagogische wetenschappen en we hebben het in al onze afleveringen in deze podcast eigenlijk over inclusief ondernemen, inclusie op het werk. Op het eerste zicht is dit misschien een thema wat er wat verderaf ligt, maar eigenlijk niet. Want ook leren en bijblijven is een belangrijk element om ook volledig erbij te horen en alle kansen te krijgen die bij inclusie horen. En vandaar dat we het interessant vinden om jou hier ook aan het woord te laten. Het klopt toch dat jij master in de pedagogische wetenschappen bent? Dat klopt. Ik heb een master in de pedagogische wetenschappen, afstudeerrichting onderwijskunde. Dus daar ligt mijn specialiteit. Maar ik heb ook een bachelor in het sociaal werk. Dus ik heb een schakelprogramma gevolgd in mijn studies wat dat ook een stuk verklaart, mijn achtergrond rond inclusie en het aandacht hebben voor wat maatschappelijke thema's. Daarom dat ik het leuk vind dat ik hier uitgenodigd ben om aan te schuiven. En inderdaad, wat je zegt klopt volledig. Als je kijkt naar werk en mensen werk aanbieden. Een heel groot deel van te gaan werken betekent ook je eigen maken wat de processen, procedures en wat de inhoud van een job is die iemand moet gaan uitvoeren. En wat we dus kunnen gaan doen als organisatie om mensen in onze groep van medewerkers in te schakelen is natuurlijk die opleiding gaan voorzien. En dan vanuit mijn insteek heel specifiek gaat dat over wat zijn digitale zelf gestuurde opleidingen die kunnen bijdragen om mensen vlotter te gaan integreren in de groep van medewerkers. Digitale opleidingen, dat snap ik nog. Zelfgestuurde opleidingen, wat bedoel je daarmee? In mijn ervaring is er soms wat verwarring tussen, oké, wat is een digitale opleiding, zeker sinds covid is dat een heel troebel gegeven aan het worden in discussies. Stel het zo; als je een klassikale opleiding hebt die plots niet meer fysiek kan doorgaan en je doet dit via Zoom of via Teams, ga je dat dan een digitale opleiding noemen of niet? In principe wel want je gaat een digitaal middel gebruiken om die opleiding te faciliteren. Waarom ik het woord zelfgestuurd erbij aankleef is dat is een opleiding die niet live doorgaat, maar als synchroon. Daar wordt een stuk opleidingsmateriaal op voorhand voorbereid. Die wordt dan uitgedeeld aan een medewerker of aan een persoon en die kan om het even waar en op even welk moment die opleiding gaan volgen. Dus voor mij betekent dat een zelfgestuurde digitale opleiding. Dat kan die opname zijn van dat ex cathedra moment die gegeven is. Maar dat kan ook een verwerkingsopdracht zijn, een scenario die je moet gaan doornemen, een quiz die je moet gaan afronden. Dus er zijn heel veel verschillende werkvormen binnen die zelfgestuurde digitale opleiding. En dus dat is eigenlijk een vorm van opleiding waar mensen zelf achter hun eigen computer, op het moment dat het hen uitkomt, op de plek dat ze daar gebruik van kunnen maken, zelf een stuk opleiding kunnen volgen en een bepaald programma opstarten en, laten we zeggen, de instructies volgen die verschijnen en op die manier zijn ze aan het leren of wordt er iets bijgeleerd. Klopt. Het principe is; iemand gebruikt zijn computer, zijn mobiele telefoon, zijn tablet, welk apparaat dan ook. Die gaat ergens een toegang krijgen om die opleiding te kunnen gaan volgen. Die neemt die door. Er staan instructies op het scherm. Er wordt verteld wat er moet gebeuren. Dus eigenlijk ga je de rol van die coach of trainer of lesgever een stuk gaan digitaliseren. Dat die klaarstaat voor iedereen. Men gaat door de instructies, men neemt de teksten door, bekijkt de afbeeldingen, bekijkt de video's, doet eventueel een test, doet het scenario dat gaat afgerond worden en dan krijgt men een uitkomst. Zijnde, je hebt het gevolgd of je bent geslaagd. Het is wel de bedoeling inderdaad dat iemand voor zichzelf gaat uitmaken, hier ga ik nu die opleiding gaan volgen met een toestel die ik voor handen heb. Dat is een hedendaagse manier van leren stel ik mij zo voor. Is dit dan de manier van leren vandaag? Wordt dit de enige manier van leren? Hoe zie jij dat? Ik zou zeer graag zeggen ja, dit is de beste manier van leren en de enige manier van leren en kom allemaal naar FLOWSPARKS, want wij hebben de oplossing. De realiteit is echter zo dat dat stukje wat we dan e-learning noemen, dat zelfgestuurd leren, dat is eigenlijk het zoveelste stuk gereedschap in de gereedschapskist die iemand binnen learning en development eigenlijk voor zich heeft. Je hebt die klassikale momenten, je hebt die on the job training, die e-learning is daar een toegevoegde waarde in heel veel gevallen als je het juist gaat toepassen. En dat laatste is heel belangrijk want wat zijn de grote voordelen van schaalvoordeel? Als je gaat kijken naar organisaties die bijvoorbeeld in shiften werken, om dan mensen op hetzelfde moment in een klassikale training te krijgen is lang niet altijd evident. Dan kan e-learning wel helpen. Op de site van BASF is dat het geval. Ze hebben bijvoorbeeld een ademhalingstraining die zij gaan uitrollen. De eerste keer dat je die volgt is klassikaal en je moet hands on in de praktijk iets gaan doen. Maar de herhaling is via een digitale weg en een klein stukje nog praktijktraining. Dus je moet eigenlijk zorgen dat mensen op het even welk moment dat digitale stuk kunnen gaan doen. En eens ze klaar zijn kunnen ze samen dat moment gaan doen. Dus daar zitten echt de grote voordelen van een e-learning. Het is trouwens grappig dat je verwijst naar een ademhalingstraining, want we hadden enkele afleveringen geleden hier Tom Stijven als ademcoach nog over het belang van goed ademhalen. Dit geheel terzijde. Dus enerzijds heel praktische zaken, maar ook op vlak van het leermoment zelf is e-learning of zelfgestuurde training, digitale training een voordeel, want je kan de deelnemer op z'n eigen tempo door een stuk leermateriaal laten gaan. En dat is ook zeggen dat de angst voor een verkeerd antwoord te geven in een klassikale sessie niet aanwezig is. Men kan leren van feedback, men kan er een uur over doen waarbij dat iemand anders een half uur nodig heeft. Dus op vlak van differentiatie naar opleiding is dat ook wel een heel grote meerwaarde. Alleen wil ik niet gezegd hebben, doe dan plots alles in een e-learning, want vaak is dat dan de reflex, we hebben een nieuwe tool zoals FLOWSPARKS, een heel leuke, we gaan er alles in gaan steken. Het is wel altijd een weloverwogen keuze wat gaan we in welke werkvorm gaan aanbieden om ons volledig leeraanbod te gaan vormgeven binnen de organisatie. Het zal eigenlijk altijd een mix blijven van verschillende leervormen waarin deze wellicht wat belangrijker wordt naar de toekomst toe en extra mogelijkheden creëert. Eén van onze eigen activiteiten hier in huis bij WEB-Blenders is een team wat al jaren bezig is met het thema e-inclusie. We hebben het over inclusie, maar we zien dat heel wat mensen vandaag nog steeds risico lopen op digitale uitsluiting. Daar werken wij op allerlei manieren ook aan. En als je dit allemaal zit te vertellen, dan gaat er bij mij zo'n belletje rinkelen van oei, dit legt meteen ook wel een drempel voor een aantal mensen om op eigen kracht zelfgestuurd dan maar met e-learning aan de slag te gaan. Hoe gaan jullie daarmee om? Of hoe kijk jij daar tegenaan? Dat is een realiteit die we ook zien. Het grotendeel van de klantenbestand die wij hebben zijn organisaties waarbij dat bij de aanwerving, die digitale geletterdheid, afgetoetst wordt en op z'n minst nodig is vooraleer dat je in die job kunt gaan starten. Maar we hebben ook een aantal maatwerkbedrijven bijvoorbeeld die ook met FLOWSPARKS aan de slag gaan om ook toegang te geven tot e-learning training. Net daar zijn we gelukkig als tool flexibel genoeg om zowel de toegang, want daar begint het eigenlijk al mee, een e-mailadres hebben, dat kunnen gaan beheren, het wachtwoord kunnen gaan onthouden. Dat is eigenlijk al een zeer grote stap voor veel mensen. Om die toegang te gaan versimpelen, je hebt sowieso een batch nummer bijvoorbeeld, je hebt die bij je, je geeft die in en dan heb je toegang. Op die manier gaan we de toegang faciliteren. Maar ook in het overbrengen van de inhoud kunnen we als maker dan, als inrichter, ook genoeg gaan faciliteren om die drempel zo laag mogelijk te houden. Bijvoorbeeld, in plaats van drie pagina's van tekst mee te geven, kunnen we met pictogrammen gaan werken om dingen te gaan overbrengen. Maar dat is aan de hele andere kant van de maker. Dus zoals bij elke tooling op zich, wat je ermee maakt hangt ook heel sterk af van de maker die daarmee bezig is. En als je daar op let, kun je naar de inhoud toe ook laagdrempelig gaan werken. Dus dat is naar inhoud toe. Maar mensen moeten ook wel voldoende vertrouwd zijn met een minimum aan skills met de digitale devices om er überhaupt, je zegt de toegang kunnen we al vergemakkelijken, ik kan me voorstellen dat dat ook nog wel een thema blijft dat mensen, we komen helaas ook nog wel heel wat mensen tegen die bij wijze van spreken nog wat schrik hebben van de digitale devices. En ik zal toch niks verkeerd doen, ik zal er maar afblijven. Dat is nog wel een drempel dan naar een e-learning. Ja, dat klopt. We hebben organisaties die dan ook heel bewust gaan kiezen om een voortraject rond het gebruik van digitale devices te gaan inrichten. Of er is een gemeenschappelijke tablet die klaarligt, of er is een toestel die klaarligt waarbij er altijd een begeleider of begeleiding aanwezig is, dat kan ook. Maar er zijn ook momenten waarbij dat de digitale geletterdheid zo laag ligt. En meestal heeft dat ook een harmonie met bijvoorbeeld de taal niet machtig zijn, waarbij dat een e-learning ... Het lijkt dat een e-learning training niet kan ingezet worden voor een deel van het doelpubliek. Een heel concreet voorbeeld. Wij hebben een oplossing waarbij dan bijvoorbeeld contractoren een veiligheidstraining moeten volgen vooraleer dat ze een fabriek moeten gaan binnenkomen. Zeer belangrijk, de veiligheidstraining. Wat we daar hebben in het platform is de mogelijkheid om de e-learning, die in wezen een zelfgestuurde activiteit is, te gaan organiseren als een groepssessie. Dit betekent dat niemand hoeft een toestel aan te raken, we kunnen de sessie opstarten met een moderator. Die moderator moet dan natuurlijk zijn rol als moderator serieus nemen en die kan vier à vijf mensen samenbrengen, door die e-learning gaan navigeren. We verwachten dan van die moderator dat hij gaat ingaan en interactie gaat opzoeken. Wat zou jij antwoorden op deze vraag? En eens dat dat dan afgerond is, wordt de e-learning wel geregistreerd op elk van die vier of vijf individuele personen. Dus wij zijn ook realistisch genoeg om te weten, we kunnen het niet allemaal oplossen met een digitaal middel. Maar zelfs als we dan al digitale middelen hebben, hoe krijgen we mensen die dan geen digitale geletterdheid hebben of gewoon de taal niet machtig zijn, op een andere manier moeten instructies krijgen, toch ook mee in dat digitale verhaal. Omdat het aanbieden van inhoud het ene aspect is? Maar organisaties zijn ook vaak op zoek naar registratie. Wat hebben mensen gevolgd. Mag ik eventjes daarop inpikken. Je haalde ook taal aan. Je hoort mijn sidekick Artemis Kubala, allerbeste luisteraar. Stel dat er inderdaad mensen zijn die het Nederlands niet zo machtig zijn, is er dan in het e-learning platform al de mogelijkheid om de taal te switchen? Misschien met AI toepassingen erin. Binnen FLOWSPARKS is dat ingebouwd. De maker kan zelf kiezen in welke taal dat hij die instructie wil gaan voorbereiden. Let op, voor sommige onderwerpen en voor sommige organisaties is Nederlands een verplichte taal om instructie te geven, zeker op vlak van veiligheid en compliance. Maar bijvoorbeeld FLOWSPARKS heeft een integratie met DeepL, die misschien gekend is om vertalingen te doen. Google Translate is zelfs geïntegreerd met een vertaalsoftware, als je dat in huis ook hebt, om in één klik je content te gaan vertalen door machine, door AI. Die je dan natuurlijk wel zelf gaat moeten controleren, want het gaat maar zover. Maar op z'n minst voor de maker betekent dat dat hij niet per se het Frans machtig moet zijn, of het Duits, of het Italiaans, of het Roemeens of het Pools. Die kan gewoon die taal kiezen en dan eventueel ter verificatie doorsturen en laten inlezen. Dat is ook iets dat wij actief gaan aanmoedigen, want net door al die talen te gaan aanbieden, ga je ook een stuk inderdaad weer die drempel gaan verlagen voor je doelpubliek. Ik wil toch even terug het thema wat opentrekken naar learning en development in brede zin, levenslang leren. We weten allemaal hoe belangrijk het is. Ook in relatie tot heel het thema inclusie wat we benoemd hebben. Tegelijkertijd moeten we er ook niet flauw over doen en zijn er toch heel wat mensen die daar niet op zitten te wachten. Die niet van zichzelf altijd gemotiveerd zijn om dingen te leren, bij te leren. Hoe kijk jij daar als professional tegenaan? Hoe krijgen we mensen meer mee in de noodzaak om te leren? Hoe maken we dat aantrekkelijk zodanig dat dat inderdaad geen of een veel kleinere drempel wordt. Daar heb ik heel veel verschillende, heel praktische insteken al gezien in die dertien jaar die ik nu al bezig ben in het vak van heel veel verschillende organisaties. Je hebt er die de insteek hebben van het straffen. Dit is een opleiding die je moet gaan doen. Als je dit niet doet dan kom je niet in aanmerking voor een promotie of iets anders. Je hebt er die de andere kant gaan doen. Dit is de insteek van het belonen. We hebben een traject gedaan bij een klant, ik zal de naam niet direct noemen, waarbij dat het ging over als je een opleiding gaat uitvoeren en voltooien. Dus je hoeft niet geslaagd te zijn. Het ging over digitale skills, dan kon je een muis gepersonaliseerd van het bedrijf gaan ophalen. Een kleine beloning. Of je kan een schouderklop uitdelen als beloning. Maar als je gaat kijken naar de totaliteit van opleidingen die gegeven worden in een organisatie ga je zien dat er vier grote types van opleidingen staan. Er zijn er die verplicht zijn. Dus dat ga je zien dat er daar enorm veel initiatief is om die afgerond te krijgen in je doelpubliek. Dat gaat dan zelfs over het blijven stalken van iemand tot die is afgerond omdat, de organisatie krijgt anders boete of … Je opleidingen die dat nodig zijn om het werk gewoon nog maar uit te voeren. Dus dat soort opleidingen wordt dan meestal door de teamlead of de ploegleider wel een stuk doorgedrukt want anders heeft hij een medewerker die niet operationeel is in het team. Dan heb je een deel opleidingen die dan gaan over upskilling. Oké, je gaat naar een andere job gaan of je hebt de ambitie om te gaan naar een andere job. Dat zijn meestal opleidingen die dan vertrekken vanuit een soort van intrinsieke motivatie van die medewerker want die weet als ik die opleiding ga volgen, dan krijg ik daar een hoger loon of andere zaken. Dus dan heb je daar een stuk opleiding. En dan heb je een deel van de opleidingen die zelfontplooiingsopleidingen zijn. En daar zie je, zie ik toch in de praktijk twee perspectieven naar. Je hebt een groep die dat omarmen en die zeggen oké, als die tof is zal ik gaan volgen als opleiding. En je hebt de groep die het volledig links laat liggen. Dus vaak is het romantisch beeld over zelfontplooiing. Ik ga een opleiding gaan aanbieden en dat aanbod zijn 2000 trainingen of zoveel objecten die je kan gaan volgen en dan zie je gewoon dat er een deel dat volledig afstoot van ik heb daar gewoon geen zin en geen tijd in om dat te doen. En een deel die zegt ja ik wil vanalles gaan opnemen, meestal een minderheid daarin. Je hebt gewoon zo'n diversiteit en komt het vanuit een intrinsieke motivatie? Wordt het extern opgelegd? Is dat iets wat interessant zou kunnen zijn? Heeft het relevantie tot de job? En ik denk dat dat laatste voor mij het belangrijkste is. Als er een opleiding wordt gegeven en die heeft nul relevantie tot wat ik nu dagdagelijks zit te doen, waarom zou ik in godsnaam dat gaan doen? What's in it for me blijft voor mij ook als maker en als consultant daarin het belangrijkste. Toon waarom die opleiding in godsnaam relevant en belangrijk is voor die persoon waardoor hij die motivatie om het dan te volgen toch een stuk gaat vergroten. Dat is gekeken vanuit het perspectief van de werkgever eigenlijk. Ja oké, dus de stok in de wortel? En what's in it for me? En de categorie die vanzelf intrinsiek gemotiveerd is, daar hoeven we niet druk om te doen, die gaan het wel volgen, die zijn geïnteresseerd om alles bij te leren. Daar heb je natuurlijk de drang om iets te gaan leren. Als dat een stuk groter is bij die groep, dan gaan zij eigenlijk van nature een stuk makkelijker de leerinitiatieven gaan oppikken die aanwezig zijn in de organisatie. Dat zie je ook zeer praktisch als we een learning management systeem hebben in de organisatie. De meeste mensen hebben daar een afkeer van, dat is meestal een vehikel die heel moeilijk te navigeren is. Maar dan de mensen die het echt willen om iets te gaan leren, die vinden dan hun weg door al die twintig kliks om iets te gaan bereiken en die gaan dan hun weg vinden. Dat is dus een groep die je relatief snel meehebt. Alleen is dat ook niet een vaste groep, want verschillend van het aanbod aan wat er dan aanwezig is of een moment in de carrière van die persoon kan het ook gewoon weer een andere persoon zijn. Dat maakt wel als L&D professional dat je altijd met een bewegend speelveld aan het werken bent binnen de organisatie als je je leerinitiatieven daarrond gaat inrichten. L&D, de term viel net, learning en development. Wat zie jij als professional foutlopen vandaag bij werkgevers als het gaat over learning en development? Wat zijn dingen waar we voor moeten opletten? Advies, valstrikken waar je in kan lopen zijn tweeledig denk ik. Aan de ene kant denk ik als inrichter van een leerinitiatief dat je toch moet vermijden om een leerinitiatief te zien als een volledige inhoudsdump of een content dump of een inhoudsoverdracht naar een andere partij. Ik zie dat vaak gebeuren. Er moet een leerinitiatief opgezet worden. Men gaat twintig pagina's gaan schrijven en men gaat een expert betrekken, dan worden er dertig pagina's, veertig pagina's, drie vragen op het einde. Hup, we gaan dat sturen naar iemand. We hopen dat die dat doorneemt en drie vragen beantwoordt en dan weet die het wel, tussen aanhalingstekens. Of we gaan er een leuke video van maken, een video van 20 minuten en dan weten ze het wel. Alleen, als er geen enkele focus is op, wat is dan de transfer naar de praktijk? Wat moet die persoon daar dan mee doen in het dagelijks werkveld? Dan is dat meestal een nutteloos initiatief want je moet ook wel gaan informeren. Maar dan heb je geïnformeerd, dan heb je geen leerinitiatief opgezet. Hoe maken we er een leerinitiatief van? Er zijn twee zaken. Op het moment van het leren zelf gaat het over zo snel mogelijk dingen naar de praktijk kunnen gaan vertalen. Dat wil zeggen scenario's gaan aanbieden, observatie opdrachten gaan aanbieden, reflectiemomenten gaan aanbieden. Om het klassieke patroon van een leerinitiatief te gaan opzetten, zie ik vaak, er wordt veel nagedacht over de inhoud. Wat moeten we gaan geven? Dan is er daar al redelijk veel tijd ingekropen en dan wordt een klein beetje de praktische situaties die daar moeten uitvloeien een stuk, ja, dat is dan weer iets moeilijker. Creativiteit heb je daarvoor nodig. Dat wordt al sneller aan de kant gezet. Dus op het moment van het leren zelf kun je dit nu toepassen in een gesimuleerde of een case studie of iets die met de praktijk te maken heeft, kun je dat gaan toepassen om die retentie ook een stuk te gaan hebben. Maar dan volgt natuurlijk ook het zwaardere werk. Je hebt een leerinitiatief gehad. Laat ons dat nu gaan observeren in de praktijk. Wat doen mensen daar nu mee in het dagelijks leven? Want uiteindelijk, je leerinitiatief zal moeten vertrekken van we willen een verandering in ons dagelijks werk. Wat is de verandering die wij ambiëren? We doen het initiatief. Is die verandering aanwezig of niet? En dan moet je gaan evalueren is die aanwezig of niet? Dus voor mij gaan die wel hand in hand. Alleen zie je heel vaak dat initiatieven worden opgestart en dat dat stuk observatie in de praktijk gaat ontbreken. Wat is de uitkomst die wij daar willen en wat is de meting die we daardoor nodig hebben om dat te gaan evalueren? Dat is inderdaad een interessante en ik kan mij voorstellen dat dat vaak achterwege blijft, want het is allemaal extra werk dat er nog bijkomt. En we zijn ons vaak niet bewust hoe belangrijk dat is. Wat je zei triggerde me nog op een andere manier. Je zegt er wordt veel belang gehecht aan de inhoud die overgebracht moet worden. Daar gaat vaak zoveel aandacht en tijd naartoe dat dat al snel bij wijze van spreken 80% van de inspanning wordt. En dus betekent ook dat er veel minder nagedacht wordt en gewerkt wordt aan de vorm waarin. Terwijl we ondertussen eigenlijk ook wel weten dat verschillende mensen kennis opnemen op een andere manier. Dat er heel wat verschillende manieren van leren en van kennis opnemen zijn en de vorm waarin dat gebeurt wellicht ook belangrijk is of niet. Hoe kijk je daarnaar? Wat je nu net aanhaalt is eigenlijk de kernfilosofie van eigenlijk de tool die wij hebben, FLOWSPARKS, de authoring tool. Want wij bieden net die werkvormen aan voor makers. Je kan informatieoverdracht gaan doen, pagina's met informatie met een afbeelding bij, maar daar zitten ook werkvormen in om een scenario aan te bieden waar mensen heel snel moeten beslissen: Is dit juist of fout? Is dit veilig, is dit niet veilig? Is dit zoals we wensen of niet. Er zitten scenario's in: denk na over deze situatie. Wat zou jij doen? Wat is het gedrag die je zou stellen met een reflectiemoment daarachter. Er zitten mogelijkheden om een video op te nemen en te vragen: observeer en duw op een knop als je iets ziet die fout. Net die diversiteit in die werkvormen. We hebben die ingewerkt in onze technologie omdat we net zien dat als je iets wil leren, dat altijd neerkomt als er actief leren bij betrokken is, heeft dat veel meer waarde dan puur en gewoon die kennisoverdracht. Ik heb een vraag. Het zijn inhouse trainers die gebruik maken van de software. Toch? Bij ons is het inderdaad: ofwel is het learning en development zelf die gebruik gaat maken van de tool, of ze gaan hun kennisexpert, subject matter experts, gaan betrekken in het maakproces. En dat kan op twee niveaus: of die subject matter experts, die kennisexperts, worden betrokken als degenen die input leveren of die feedback geven of die meesturen óf ze krijgen ook de tooling in handen om die inhouden te gaan uitwerken. Eigenlijk sla je twee vliegen in één klap want hoe dat wij nu regelmatig werken met externe leveranciers is dat zij vragen: geef me cases. Zodat onze cases relevant zijn specifiek voor de werkvloer en de situaties en de scenario's dat die ook relevant zijn voor de doelgroepen. Eigenlijk zit dat dan in dat systeem. Maar ik vroeg me ook nog af moet een organisatie dan FLOWSPARKS als systeem nemen of is het geïntegreerd? Is het compatibel met al bestaande LMS systemen? Als je als organisatie inderdaad al een learning management systeem hebt, fijn die bestaat al. Dan kan je FLOWSPARKS enkel en alleen gebruiken om dan de inhoud uit te werken om dan in het learning management systeem kwijt te kunnen. We zijn redelijk flexibel daarin. Als we naar de inhoud even kijken zo. Het interesseert me vanuit jouw perspectief om eens te zien vandaag de dag bij werkgevers. Wat zijn de thema's die hoog scoren op vlak van learning en development? Wat komen jullie vandaag vaak tegen? Ik denk dat ik het eerder kan beantwoorden vanuit de niche van e-learning. Want op L&D kunnen het redelijk veel thema's zijn. Maar vanuit wat wij zien als e-learning, net omdat dat een schaalvergroting met zich meebrengt, zien wij heel vaak compliance, de code of conduct, de code of ethics. Saaie materie. Heel saaie materie. En gelukkig heeft FLOWSPARKS dan ook weer daar iets op gevonden om dat in adaptief leertraject te steken. Dat je, als je er al iets van kent en het is al de twintigste keer dat je die training krijgt, kun je daar veel sneller doorfietsen omdat je je kennis al kan bewijzen. Dus dat is een groot deel daarvan. Software training, alles die te maken heeft met ja, we hebben hier een product in de commerciële sector. SAP is een zeer gekend product, zeker in de logistiek. Maar iedereen heeft zijn processen op een bepaalde manier geconfigureerd, dus die moet je toch weer gaan leren. Ah oké, hoe werken die dan? Werkt die procedure stap voor stap. En gelukkig, FLOWSPARKS heeft daar ook een oplossing voor om die overdracht stap voor stap ook aan te bieden. Plus je kan een downloadbare handleiding meekrijgen op hetzelfde moment. Dus dat is allemaal ook voorzien. En dan zien we een deel rond producttraining. Oké, we hebben een gamma aan producten en ik ben hier net ook Soudal voorbijgereden. Ja, ze hebben FLOWSPARKS ook om hun productcatalogus aan te leren aan hun team. Dus zij gebruiken daar ook producttraining voor. Onboarding is nog zo'n klassieke, vooral in de optiek de pre boarding. Dus we hebben iemand die de wens heeft om bij ons te werken. Tof, maar die start pas binnen drie maand. E-learning is ideaal omdat je op voorhand iets kan meesturen. Ga er al door. Verwerk die informatie al. Als je wil, bereid je al voor, al dan niet verplicht. Maar je kan dat ook makkelijker doen op een digitale manier. Dat zijn zowat de vier meest voorkomende. Los dan van alle andere vragen die er nog leven. Volgens mijn zijn dit wel de meest voorkomende die ik zie in de dagelijkse praktijk. Als we het over leren hebben, het sluit een beetje aan misschien bij wat we daarstraks al even aanhaalden, dan wordt er traditioneel nogal hard gedacht, gekeken naar die 55-plussers. Die moeten we vooral meekrijgen, want die hebben de grootste achterstand. En die, ja, die kunnen niet meer mee. Ervaar je dat ook bij jouw klanten? En ben je het daarmee eens? Niet echt. Ja, ik heb natuurlijk niet zelf die hands on ervaring, dus het enige wat ik kan zien is de feedback die ik krijg of de gesprekken die ik heb met mensen die dan effectief bij de organisatie in het werkveld staan. Daar is het eerder vooral dat leeftijd op zich niet zo'n groot verschil maakt. Jonge mensen, oudere mensen die zo kunnen redeneren ja, die jonge groep zijn digital natives, die zijn geboren met een smartphone of met een computer. Alleen zie je daar dat zij inderdaad dagelijks op die toestellen zitten. Maar voor Instagram, TikTok, … En als het gaat over leerervaringen, ja, dan is het opnieuw een heel nieuwe wereld. Zeker als je dan praat over een learning management systeem. Dat zijn niet de meest sexy tools of degenen die ook consumentgericht zijn. Dus daar zie ik eigenlijk niet dat die split echt beaamd wordt door mensen die in het werkveld staan. Het gaat er wel over dat het inderdaad niet evident is voor alle groepen om ze te gaan meekrijgen in die initiatieven, dat is wel een feit. Maar om echt te zeggen, ja wij zien een totale split tussen die twee groepen, dan zeker niet voor e-learning, komt dat eigenlijk niet zo hard naar voor. Oké, ik ben gerustgesteld. Een laatste thema misschien om nog kort efkes aan te kaarten? Tenzij dat mijn sidekick nog dingen in petto heeft. We hadden het over digitale vaardigheden, maar in meer algemene zin is toegankelijkheid ook wel een belangrijk thema als we het hebben over inclusie gecombineerd met learning en develompent. Heb je daar inzichten die ons kunnen helpen? Niet elke training is even toegankelijk voor mensen die ja, slecht horen, slecht zien, andere beperkingen met zich meedragen. Ja, ik kan zeker daar input voor leveren, want wij zijn vorig jaar of twee jaar geleden begonnen met onze tooling klaar te maken voor wat we dan noemen accessibility. Dus mensen die ondersteuning nodig hebben: auditieve beperking, visuele beperking. Om die ook toegang te geven tot leermaterialen die gemaakt worden in een zelfgestuurd leerprogramma. We hebben een eerste initiatief gehad bij een klant die daar heel bewust ook achter vroeg. We hebben onze software aangepast en we hebben eigenlijk achteraf gezien ja, dat was een verkeerde manier om daarmee om te gaan of de implementatie te gaan doen op het technisch vlak. Daar hebben we heel wat lessen uit geleerd. En ondertussen zijn wij ook bezig met onze tooling accessible te maken. Om ervoor te zorgen dat iemand die software nodig heeft om nog maar die teksten voor te lezen of om lettertypes aan te passen of om het kleurcontrast aan te passen, dat die dat ook gewoon kan doen in onze software zonder dat hij daar heel veel moeilijke manipulaties voor moet gaan doen. Wat ik daar ook uit geleerd heb is dat die accessibility richtlijnen die er bestaan, degene die wij hebben, WCAG voornamelijk, ja die gaan ervan uit dat dat gaat over een website. Wat is WCAG? Dat is de standaard die bepaalt rond accessibility wat jouw technologie aan moet gaan voldoen om toegankelijk te zijn voor iedereen. Dus daar zijn richtlijnen voor, die volgen we nu ook in de implementatie. Alleen die zijn gemaakt voor een website, maar een website is geen leerervaring. Om een voorbeeld te geven, in een leerervaring heb je vaak sequenties die je moet gaan volgen. Dus de richtlijn zegt, als je inhoud hebt op een pagina, die moet altijd direct allemaal raadpleegbaar zijn. Maar soms is die leerstrategie, nee je bouwt je kennis op. Dus het eerste stuk moet je eerst doen en dan het tweede stuk. Dus ergens implementeren wij die standaarden, maar we gaan daar ook tegenin omdat we net vanuit onze onderwijskundige insteek zeggen ja maar ja, we hebben een andere logica die we hebben. Je zou eigenlijk een andere standaard nodig hebben voor het leerplatform. Klopt, er is bij mijn weten of wat ik ondertussen tegenkom. Ik heb ook twee jaar geleden een interview gehad met Susi Miller. Susi Miller heeft een boek geschreven rond Accessibility Guidelines voor eLearnix. Eigenlijk wordt dat een klein beetje bijna onze Bijbel, want zij gaat ook gaan kijken naar al die onderwijskundige stukken die ook, en gaat dat dan hervertalen naar de richtlijnen die er bestaan voor een website. Wil niet zeggen dat we er niet moeten aan voldoen. Ons technisch team is daarmee bezig om ervoor te zorgen dat het gewoon kant en klaar is. Alleen gaan wij op bepaalde momenten beslissingen nemen die tegen die standaarden ingaan. Zeer doelbewust omdat wij toch graag vanuit een onderwijskundige hoek ook kijken naar onze digitale oplossingen, die ook willen gaan implementeren. Oké Christophe, dank je wel voor het delen van al jouw expertise. Tussendoor werd het toch weer een commercieel praatje, maar dat neemt niet weg dat het wel boeiend was en dat de wereld van die e-learning mogelijkheden oneindig groot is en ja voor heel wat laagdrempelige mogelijkheden zorgt. Of het nu FLOWSPARKS of een ander systeem is, daar maken we even abstractie van. Jij niet, maar wij wel. Dank je wel om hier te zijn voor dit boeiende gesprek. Met veel plezier. [outro] Je luisterde naar een aflevering van Let's talk about Work, de podcast van de groep WEB-Blenders. Al onze gesprekken gaan over werk, de weg naar werk, welzijn op de werkvloer en alles wat daarbij komt kijken. Je vindt ons op je favoriete podcast platform en op www.blenders.be/podcast. Op social media kan je ons volgen op LinkedIn onder podcast Let's talk about Work en op Instagram als Blenders podcast Let's talk! Ook via de Blenders nieuwsbrief kan je up-to-date blijven. Was je geboeid? Zet dit gesprek je aan het denken? Ben je zelf graag één van onze volgende gasten? Laat het ons weten via info@blenders.be en wie weet schuif jij binnenkort mee aan tafel!

 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.

 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.

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.

Laura vormt het middelpunt van gezelligheid. Hup, glimlach op, rond met hapjes en drankjes en checken of iedereen blij is. Maar de laatste tijd heeft ze de energie er niet meer voor. Wat kan er aan de hand zijn? En waarom verwacht ze van zichzelf dat ze het anderen naar hun zin moet maken? Auteur en therapeut Marian Mudder, bekend van de bestseller Wat ik eerder had willen weten over angst, zelfliefde en acceptatie, geeft onder begeleiding van host Rachel van de Pol inzicht en advies.  Genoemd en getipt in deze aflevering:

Prof. dr. Ingrid Steenhuis is verbonden aan de VU in Amsterdam en geeft o.a. colleges over preventie, public health en gedragsverandering. We kunnen het er niet vaak genoeg over hebben: leefstijl- en gedragsverandering. leefstijl- en gedragsverandering.   Hoe moeten we ernaar kijken: de omgeving binnen jezelf, maar ook de omgeving buiten. Kan je gewoon beginnen met een verandering of heb je wel een plan nodig? En hoe vergaat het ons in de sociale omgeving: hoe zitten de normen in elkaar en hoe ga je ermee om? En ten slotte uiteraard ook de diverse omgevingsfactoren die het ons moeilijker maken om gewoontes te veranderen, en wat zijn de voorgestelde manieren om de factoren te beïnvloeden? Hup luister deze show en verander je gedrag! I'm a Foodie is onafhankelijk en heeft geen banden met de voedingsindustrie. We ontwikkelen webinars, online masterclasses en schrijven boeken om jou te inspireren om gezonder te gaan eten. Je steunt ons door het kopen ervan. 

Aan de slag!Dus, hoe doe je dat? Zoals iedere spier die je traint, begint het met een routine. Iets waardoor je jezelf eraan herinnert dat je moet gaan trainen. Hup, naar de sportschool! Zoek een moment op de dag waarvan je weet dat je tijd hebt om te reflecteren. Misschien 's ochtends als je wakker wordt of juist 's avonds voordat je gaat slapen. Heb je dat moment gevonden? Bedenk dan eens drie dingen waarvoor je deze dag dankbaar kunt zijn en schrijf ze op. Zo train je jezelf iedere dag in dankbaarheid. Deze overdenking is geschreven door schrijfster Mandy Wittekoek.

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!

In diesem wirklich unterhaltsamen Gespräch geht es um Sprache und den Weg von Aachen-Passau-München naar Den Haag und zurück in den Süden Deutschlands. Tolls Städte, spannende deutsch-nederlandse Erlebnisse. In München verbindet Joachim und mich der Deutsch-Nederlandse Businessclub und gehen wir natürlich darauf ein (Werbung: Solltest Du interesse am Süd-Deutschen Markt haben, werde dort Mitglied!!) und dadurch natürlich auch auf das tolle Nederlandse Generalkonsulat in München… die sehr eng mit dem Business-Club verbunden sind und auch sonst viele wichtige Sachen machen… Wir sprechen über die DNHK und berufliche und private LEKKER anders Erfahrungen in Den Haag. Joachim, der beide Länder eben gut kennt, gibt Tipps an Nederlandse bedrijven, die de Duitse markt op willen. Aber auch Tipps an all diejenigen, die beruflich oder privat, in die Niederlande ziehen wollen. Und was das mit Hup - gaan we even gewoon doen - auf sich hat! Wir lachen viel, auch beim DNL Quiz. Bei der Frage rundum Fahrrad oder Auto, wird es dann aber auch Ernst. Und bekommt das Gespräch ein Gänsehautmoment und Tiefe, voller Weisheit. Danke Joachim für das schöne, lustige und aufschlussreiche Gespräch. Danke für Deine Offenheit und Enthusiasmus beim erzählen… De tijd is gevlogen! Und dir, veel luisterplezier! Herzliche Grüße, Hartelijke Grüße, auch im Namen von meinem Medienpartner aha24x7 Anouk

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

DE SANDWICH ZONDAG 15 september 2024 Evergreen Week van de Jaren ‘70 Uur 1 1. The way we were – Barbra Streisand 2. Father and son – Cat Stevens 3. Sad Lisa – Cat Stevens 4. Voçe abusou – Maria Creuza 5. Als je weet wat liefde is – Monique van de Ven 6. La califfa – Ennio Morricone 7. Say you don't mind – Colin Blunstone 8. Promises – Eric Clapton 9. En Mediterranée – Georges Moustaki 10. Ochtend – Conny Vandenbos 11. You're my best friend – Don Williams 12. Ich brauch Tapetenwechsel – Hildegard Knef 13. Castles in the air – Don McLean 14. Ik weet wel mijn lief – Zjef Vanuytsel 15. The closer I get to you – Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway 16. Imaginary landscapes – Laurens van Rooyen Uur 2 1. The night the lights went out in Georgia – Vicki Lawrence 2. Without you – Harry Nilsson 3. Gotta get up – Harry Nilsson 4. Theme fron The Persuaders – John Barry 5. Ik drink – Ramses Shaffy 6. We're all alone – Rita Coolidge 7. The year of the cat – Al Stewart 8. Hexagone – Renaud 9. Hup daar is Willem….. – Ed & Willem Bever 10. Samen een straatje om – Rudi Carrell 11. Thin line between love and hate – The Persuaders 12. Alle porte del sole – Gigliola Cinquetti 13. Selfpity – Lucifer 14. Ik ben ik – Boudewijn de Groot 15. Hafanana – Afric Simone 16. Who pays the ferryman – Yannis Markopoulos

Vriendschap is een van de leukste dingen die er zijn, maar soms is het ook lastig. Hoe maak je bijvoorbeeld vrienden als volwassene? Ik ga je leren hoe je vrienden kunt worden met Truus van de nagelsalon. Hup, zet die aflevering aan en bel lekker met je bestie.

Doe dit de komende drie dagen en merk dat je je veel fijner voelt.Hup.Steun me en luister meteen naar mijn exclusieve weekupdate via petjeaf.com/tomsondarkoDe komende periode tijdelijk maandag tot en met vrijdag in je oor.Handjes boven de dekens.Slaap lekker.Support the Show.1) Ontvang elke woensdagavond een mail van me over gevoelens waar niemand over praat. 2) Mijn shop vol boeken boeken, posters en tasjes3) Steun me via petjeaf.com/tomsondarko en luister exclusieve afleveringen.

Lieve schatten, vandaag is het Roze Maandag, een dag vol liefde voor de LGBTQAI+ community en voor iedereen die trots is op wie die is. Voor queerness is geen checklist of een stappenplan waaraan je moet voldoen schat. Het draait allemaal om jezelf zijn. Pak je roze fluffy pen en maak je eigen verhaal, leef je leven en laat anderen dat ook doen. Hup, gooi die aflevering aan op die oortjes van je. 

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:

Of je nou voor je kledingkast staat te twijfelen wat je vandaag aantrekt, of dat je voor een life-changing beslissing staat: keuzes maken moeten we allemaal. Maar hoe weet je of je naar je koppie of naar je gevoel moet luisteren? En hoe ga je om met die oneindige berg aan opties? Daar kan ik je een handje bij helpen, want schat, je weet toch dat je nooit alleen bent! En onthoudt: goede of slechte beslissingen bestaan niet meid, je bent maar een spikkel in het universum hè. Hup, slinger die aflevering aan dan weet jij na dit kwartiertje helemaal waar je voor moet gaan!

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

Telkens als jij je aanpast aan de ander kan het zijn dat je een zegeltje plakt.Dat heb je helemaal niet in de gaten. Totdat jouw zegelboekje vol zit in de bom barst.Voorkom dat het zover oploopt en spreek je eerder uit.En wees heel duidelijk in wat je wil, wind er geen doekjes omheen.Jouw partner kan niets met verzoeken als: ik wil dat je vaker iets doet.Dat is veel te abstract. Zeker als je een partner hebt die daar niet op doorvraagt.Die gaat dan misschien iets doen wat jij niet had bedoeld of nodig hebt. Hup, en weer plak jij een zegel.Wees concreet en zeg wat je dan precies graag wil dat je partner gaat doen.Voorkom ruis op de lijn en volle zegelboekjes. Want daar ligt gevaar op de loer: twijfel over de relatie.Met alle gevolgen van dien.Wil je in contact met me komen? Via Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/sharon-overweg-slap of mail me: sharon@stapelgek.comMeer info: https://stapelgek.com/Liefdevolle dag allemaal en goede zaken!Sharon--------------------------------------------Montage en distributie van de Stapelgek podcast via De Podcast Specialist. Ook voor Podcast workshops | www.depodcastspecialist.nl | Sander Stekelenburg - LinkedIn

Vandaag gaan we het hebben over de eiwittransitie. Dat gaat over de transitie van dierlijke naar meer plantaardige eiwitbronnen. De Gezondheidsraad heeft daar in 2023 een advies over uitgebracht. Hoewel onze gasten daar wel aan gelieerd zijn, zijn ze vandaag op persoonlijke titel te gast. Prof. dr. Marianne Geleijnse van de WUR (en vriend van de show, in seizoen 2 was ze al eens te gast). En prof dr. ir. Marjolein Visser van de VU.  Na deze show weet je concreet welke keuzes jij hieromtrent kan maken! SHOUT OUT: eiwittransitie congres, check het congres voor de line up. Met de code foodie10 krijg je 10% korting op het congres. Hup ren naar de site van het congres en scoor je ticket! I'm a Foodie Jubileum Masterclasses! Wij bestaan 10 jaar en in dat kader geven we dit hele jaar iedere maand Masterclasses met te gekke onderwerpen. Schrijf je nu in voor een masterclass naar keuze!  I'm a Foodie  I'm a Foodie podcast Mail ons met onderwerp suggesties Wij maken deze podcast mede dankzij de financiële steun van vrienden van de show. Wil je ons ook steunen? Ga dan naar Vriend van de Show. Dank je wel alvast en tot volgende week. We hebben een nieuwe granola smaak: Peanut Banana. Bestel ‘m snel

Melk: het creëren van een behoefte! Hebben we dit echt nodig? En waarom is melkconsumptie zo gewoon in onze maatschappij? Dit en meer in Broodje Jaap! van vandaag. Broodje Jaap!: iedere woensdag bellen we met prof.dr. ir. Jaap Seidell en nemen we de week door. We blikken vooruit, maar kijken ook terug. In 15 minuten nemen we dit met je door. Elke week opnieuw! SHOUT OUT: eiwittransitie congres, check het congres voor de line up. Met de code foodie10 krijg je 10% korting op het congres. Hup ren naar de site van het congres en scoor je ticket! I'm a Foodie Jubileum Masterclasses! Wij bestaan 10 jaar en in dat kader geven we dit hele jaar iedere maand Masterclasses met te gekke onderwerpen. Schrijf je nu in voor een masterclass naar keuze!  I'm a Foodie  I'm a Foodie podcast Mail ons met onderwerp suggesties Doneer eenmalig via deze link Wij maken deze podcast mede dankzij de financiële steun van vrienden van de show. Wil je ons ook steunen? Ga dan naar Vriend van de Show. Dank je wel alvast en tot volgende week. We hebben een nieuwe granola smaak: Peanut Banana. Bestel ‘m snel. Of kies voor het Kennismaking Ontbijtpakket: 2x Totally Nuts, 2x Peanut Banana en 2x Wafelmix. Met de code ‘fan' krijg je korting bij je bestelling

We starten het jaar met een long awaited special! We bespreken ein-de-lijk de 3 smaakvolle genre comedies van geniaal vriendentrio Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg en Nick Frost. Dus waar wacht je nog op? Hup, hup, to the Winchester! Of The King's Head? Of… Och, any pub will do. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/echo-base-podcast/message

Vorige week is collega Wendy Walrabenstein gepromoveerd op het thema minder reumatoïde artritis en artrose klachten door voeding en leefstijl. Jaap was haar opponent en zodoende bespreken we dat vandaag in Broodje Jaap! Mocht je meer hierover willen weten? Claim dan snel je plaats bij de masterclass die Wendy gaat geven op donderdag 1 februari 2024. Broodje Jaap!: iedere woensdag bellen we met prof.dr. ir. Jaap Seidell en nemen we de week door. We blikken vooruit, maar kijken ook terug. In 15 minuten nemen we dit met je door. Elke week opnieuw!   SHOUT OUT: eiwittransitie congres, check het congres voor de line up. Met de code foodie10 krijg je 10% korting op het congres. Hup ren naar de site van het congres en scoor je ticket!   I'm a Foodie Jubileum Masterclasses! Wij bestaan 10 jaar en in dat kader geven we dit hele jaar iedere maand Masterclasses met te gekke onderwerpen. Schrijf je nu in voor een masterclass naar keuze!  Claim je plek bij de masterclass van Wendy over voeding & reuma I'm a Foodie  I'm a Foodie podcast Mail ons met onderwerp suggesties Wij maken deze podcast mede dankzij de financiële steun van vrienden van de show. Wil je ons ook steunen? Ga dan naar Vriend van de Show. Dank je wel alvast en tot volgende week. We hebben een nieuwe granola smaak: Peanut Banana. Bestel ‘m snel. Of kies voor het Kennismaking Ontbijtpakket: 2x Totally Nuts, 2x Peanut Banana en 2x Wafelmix. Met de code ‘fan' krijg je korting bij je bestelling

Sicher ans Ziel kommen – und zivilisiert: Kolumnistin Doris Anselm denkt über mögliche Neuerfindungen für den Straßenverkehr nach. Ihre Idee: Zusätzliche Hup- und Klingeltöne.

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 

In questa nostra chiacchierata proveremo a dare un'idea sui Carabinieri negli anni Trenta, quello che è passato alla storia cinematografica come il periodo dei telefoni bianchi. Quale era la situazione sul versante investigativo e giudiziario; i Carabinieri avevano smesso di fare indagini sulla criminalità organizzata? Effettivamente, dopo il prefetto Mori, la mafia era stata sconfitta? E le carriere? Ci sono molte domande da farsi sui Carabinieri Reali nel corso del lungo ventennio fascista. In questo episodio diamo qualche idea generale, con l'intenzione di ritornare su argomenti specifici tenuto anche contro delle richieste di voi ascoltati. Non vi diciamo molto di più, a voi non resta che mettervi le cuffie e premere "play". Ascoltate la puntata e dateci un voto su Spotify (attraverso la stellina) o attraverso Apple Podcast, a voi la scelta :) A presto! Fonti consultate per l'episodio: Flavio Carbone, Lo studio delle lingue estere nell'Arma dei Carabinieri Reali: profili storici (1929-1941), in “Rassegna dell'Arma dei Carabinieri”, anno LII - n. 2 aprile/giugno 2004, pp. 101-115; Flavio Carbone, Un archivio privato presso l'Ufficio Storico dell'Arma dei Carabinieri: il fondo Generale Caruso in Fabrizio Rizzi, Flavio Carbone, Alessandro Gionfrida (a cura di) “Archivistica Militare – Temi e problemi”, Roma, Commissione Italiana di Storia Militare, 2012, pp. 263-274; Antonella Meniconi, Inaugurazioni giudiziarie: tre discorsi ufficiali (ma non troppo) in Le Carte e la Storia, n. 2/2014, pp. 104-116; Giorgio Rochat, Le guerre italiane 1935-1943, Torino, Einaudi editore, 2005, p. 176; Diego Scarabelli, Lotta alla mafia siciliana HUP, 2015; Fabio Truzzolillo, Fascismo e criminalità organizzata in Calabria, tesi di dottorato in Storia Contemporanea discussa presso l'Università di Pisa il 23.10.2014. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/storiadeicarabinieri/message

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.

What's your most-loved and least favorite song on Big Country's The Crossing? Sam takes us to Scotland to rank their debut album. The rest of the hosts are fairly uninitiated which makes for interesting reactions all around. Jim and Adam silently celebrate their vaccinations by stupidly trying to record in the same room for the first time, so you might hear a slight echo echo in parts parts. HUP! Please tell us how YOU would rank tonight's tunes on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter @wewillrankyoupod ! FILE UNDER/SPOILERS: In a Big Country, bagpipe guitars, Stuart Adamson, Inwards, Alternative rock, Scotland, Chance, new wave, Mark Brzezicki, Fields of Fire (400 Miles), I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles), HUP, The Storm, folk rock, the Alarm, Harvest Home, bagpipe guitars, Celtic rock, Lost Patrol, SHOCK, Bruce Watson, Close Action, post-punk, Tony Butler, 1000 Stars, not a one-hit wonder, did I mention the bagpipe guitars, Porrohman, 1983. US: http://www.WeWillRankYouPod.com wewillrankyoupod@gmail.com http://www.facebook.com/WeWillRankYouPod http://www.instagram.com/WeWillRankYouPod http://www.twitter.com/WeWillRankYouPo http://www.YourOlderBrother.com (Sam's music page) http://www.YerDoinGreat.com (Adam's music page) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4OFTIda46Di4HkS0CDvM7L (Dan's top 100 songs of 2020) THEM: https://bigcountry.co.uk END CREDITS SONG: Fields of Fire ((8-Bit Big Country Emulation)) by 8-Bit Arcade

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