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Cruise Ship part 1
In the main foyer of the ship is a small bar, a half moon shape lined with glittering lights and bar stools. The waiters prowl the inside circumference whilst in the centre, on an elevated platform, a piano player plays. When he is not there a small cd player positioned under the piano repeats for him. This is one of those occasions.
It is late at night and I am at the bar, the boat is steady and the view out of the windows is simply a reflection on the glass of what's inside as the outside is pitch black. I have drunk enough to feel loose limbed and relaxed and more receptive to strangers, and so with a slight flinching I am letting a larger, older man push down on my shoulder and the top of my back as he tells me about living in middle America. or Canada, since he assumed I knew the geographical location of the city he said he lived in and of course I smiled as if i recognised it. He was around twice my age, kind of haunch in that way that men of his age become, with short cropped hair that was silvering, set against the darker wrinkled skin of his forehead that lay heavy over his eyes. He wasn't unattractive but I felt nothing for him nor any prevalent physical desire. I imagine his cock, thoughts of having sex with him, not deciding whether I want to or would but just imagining the details of it happening. I contemplate how he's older than me, his skin probably looser, hanging off him, which cabin we'd go to if we did fuck, his or mine, his probably possessing a balcony and room service, mine on the inside of the ship with no windows or air. He'd probably prefer mine because its dinginess would lend to the fantasy of him lowering himself to fuck a guy half his age, the air of trade or something.
I'm intrigued by our positioning, socially, whether I feel like I am for sale or not. The piano cd has just looped and it irritates me to still be here, to notice when it starts playing from the beginning. My interest in this situation is simply fueled by my desire to be desired. and the fact that I am here, on a boat in the middle of no where, at a bar with a man older and duller than me, but more powerful, with bigger hands, bigger teeth and more money and life experience. I am nervous and nervously smiling, repeating yeah yeah to seem interested, I have a seething distaste for the situation on the inside and in retrospect, but there I am being amicable, amiable, awkward. The highlight of the conversation is as he provides me with life experience, extolling living in foreign cities, the potential, the chance meetings, encounters and I act eager to listen and learn, cement our positions as elder and subservient, stronger and wider palmed to younger and drunker. I am keen for his eager friendliness to slip and to suggest that he dominates me, or that he will escort me back to a room, mine or his or better somewhere illicit.