She had no inkling that would not be happening. He fully intended to cruise with her every damn month forever. She needed the week away, and they had Morty to help run Fantasy Mountain, along with her assistant Jeff. Now that the rehab on the cruise liner was complete, it’d be their home away from home. Vic might intend to work herself to death, but he had no intention of letting her do so. They were both richer than God, and could damn well afford to enjoy themselves.
True, they enjoyed themselves nearly everywhere they went. His cock pulsed, remembering what she’d done to him this morning. Christ, she had a way of knowing things. Perhaps that was why she’d been so successful at fulfilling fantasies.
Now he’d return the favor.
* * * *
Brett waited for the chopper blades to slow, then opened the door and stepped out, giving Vic a hand down. In stark contrast to the early-March bluster they’d left behind at the Mountain, a balmy San Diego afternoon greeted them on the helipad atop the Aphrodite.
Vic’s tagline blazed along the ship’s cabin in bold red letters. Fulfillment is on your horizon.
It certainly was.
“We did it, didn’t we?” Vic looked positively euphoric, her beaming smile a mile wide.
He bent down and kissed her while Gil unloaded their luggage. Funny thing about that chap, he sure liked watching them kiss. Wasn’t the first time Brett had caught him staring.
Vic glanced over at Gil. “Oh. Carmyn and Mark should be waiting at LAX when you get there.”
“Sure. I’ve just got to make a quick pit stop.” Gil headed off to a restroom, a satchel in hand.
“What’s he need his manbag for?” Brett muttered.
“Who knows. Probably preflight checklists or something. Let’s go. Crew orientation in ten minutes.”
* * * *
Temporary crew members crowded the Lido deck, dressed in navy twill shorts and fitted white tees. The “real” crew was hard at work making final preparations, or hopefully ticking off items on their preboarding checklists.
“Hell. They’ve already started,” Vic hissed.
They’d spent a few minutes in their suite with some celebratory Dom Perignon. Apparently the personnel manager was punctual.
“So just a few words about who you are, and why you’re here,” Miss Punctual Shawna said. “If you feel comfortable saying it. Let’s start here and work our way in this direction. Captain, would you like to break the ice and get us started?”
Swarthy and big as ever, the captain took a deep bow. “I’m Robert Bekyros, your ship’s captain. I’ve been navigating and running crews for fifteen years. My pop and his pop did it their whole lives before me.” He shrugged and resumed a military-straight pose.
“Still a man of few words,” Vic whispered.
Next, a weathered-looking man with an obvious hat ring in his dark blond hair stepped forward. “Howdy. I’m Jess, a forty-year-old cowboy. I’ve rodeo’d and ranched, and done my share of branding and working horseback.”
Someone in the crowd shouted, “Bareback?” which was met with a wave of chuckles.
“Funny.” Jess tilted his head in the direction of the heckler. “For the record, this uniform is missing some real important things–a hat and boots.” More chuckles. “I’m signed on as a waiter. Guess I’ll be doing some room service.” He raised his brows and grinned. “Anyhow, some of the folks at home asked me why I wanted to come on this cruise. I’ll tell ya. Because it sounds like a damn good time.”
Applause and whistling. Jess obviously knew how to work a crowd.
A younger-looking guy with dark hair spoke next. “I’m Griffin. I’ll be bartending for work here, but at home I’m a fireman and a certified EMT. I’m running from a real shitty breakup with my fiancee. Hope to enjoy some sun and sex aboard this ship.”
An older–though smoking hot–woman was up. “Hi. I’m Laurel. Nobody at home knows I’m on this cruise.” A few murmurs of agreement from the crowd. “But, hell. I figured if my husband of twenty-five years can decide to ditch me for a younger piece of ass, I could hit the gym and hit some young thang too.”
“To cougars!” a female called out. More whistling and laughter.
A very young, busty blonde stepped forward.
“Shit, Vic, is she even twenty-one?” Brett murmured.
“Yes. Just.”
“–student at BYU, majoring in journalism. I’m, um…a cabana girl for the cruise.” She blushed a little, but inhaled and stuck her bust out still more.
“She’ll be seeing some action,” he predicted. “What was her name?”