The Christmas Present Cruise

I took my plate and retired to my cabin. Sitting on the balcony and watching the last glimpses of Virginia Beach recede to the west, I contemplated how I was going to be able to stay in my cabin—and out of trouble—for five days. At least one day would be spent docked in Bermuda and I could escape from the ship as long as it was in port.

I knew what Wade was up to in sending me on this cruise. He figured I’d become part of the party and arrive back in Baltimore all gung ho to give in to his advances. Well, he had another think coming on that. I was warming up to the idea, that was true, but I didn’t like to be pushed into anything. One of these days, I would just show up at his winery. I would take the next step under my own steam. When I could build up the steam to take such a defining step.

I wouldn’t have put it past Wade to be on this cruise himself, despite the evidence that he was in Europe. I’d actually called for him on the telephone at the winery the day before sailing to see if I could catch him at a deception, but the woman I talked to claimed he was vacationing on the Danube. I wasn’t fully convinced then, though, and less so now.

The invitation that was slipped under my door the next morning let me know I couldn’t hide in my room. I was being invited to sit at the captain’s table for the Christmas Eve gala meal that night. That was the first time it dawned on me that I hadn’t even given a thought that I’d be at sea on Christmas Day and away from anyone I knew. Both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day had been a time when we’d go around visiting family and close friends. I didn’t have many close friends and very little family left, but the previous Christmas I had managed to scrape up enough of both to have some feel for the Christmas spirit.

Still when night came on both nights of the previous Christmas, I got nearly snookered by myself with Christmas wine, went to my solitary bed—wearing the silky red sleeping shorts Wade had given me, I must admit—and masturbated myself into a hazy sleep.

We wouldn’t reach Kings Wharf in Bermuda until the morning of the 26th. Until then, I would be out at sea with temptation at every turn.