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From: "Wine Maker" <wine_maker@eknifeshop.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - Chapter 5 (MF, FF, Slow, Romantic Mystery)
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Author's Note:

All,

A couple of award nominations sites are up and I urge everyone to go
nominate the stories and authors they like. If that happens to include
me, I would be thrilled.

My links, if you need them, are:

The Lady in Blue: http://storiesonline.net/story/46048
Finding Elvis: http://storiesonline.net/story/47292
Playing Doctor: http://storiesonline.net/story/48677

With any luck, The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea will be done before the
end of the year. And perhaps more stories.

The 2006 Golden Clitorides are open for nominations until January 17,
2007.

http://www.asstr.org/~Clitorides/nominations2006.html

or email nominations to: golden.clits@gmail.com

Check the eligibility rules and make sure your favorites are elegible.

Nominate everyone you like for whatever categories you think they fit
in and let the voters sort them out.

And, the nominating site for the Silver Clitorides is back up and
accepting nominations until October 7, 2006. I, of course, urge those
that like my work to nominate Playing Doctor and will shamelessly use
it as an example. Please go to the following site to nominate any story
you like that was finished in July, August or September of 2006.

http://www.asstr.org/files/Collections/Clitorides/www/SCA_Current.htm#nom


or if the form fails, vote via email to: silver-clt@hotmail.com

with a subject of: Silver Clitorides Awards Nomination for July, August
or September 2006.

Please include the following information for your vote:

Wine Maker
Playing Doctor
http://storiesonline.net/story/48677
July, 2006

Thanks all,

Wine

Hawk and Gretchen are finally going to take the cruise they've been
waiting almost a year to take. Join them as they rejoin Ted and Lisa,
as well as make new friends to form a spider's web of passionate heat.
And, of course, Death wants to join the party.

This has a real plot and three dimensional characters. It's more than
just a wanker.

Read this story on several sites and vote on each for me. Voting for my
stories encourages me to write more. Remember to vote for each chapter
on Literotica and on the last chapter on Storiesonline.

http://storiesonline.net/auth/Wine_Maker

http://english.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=560253&page=submissions


The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

(c) 2006 by Wine Maker. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Five: Outrages Abound

Lisa

The shocked tableau held for a few critical seconds until Trish
abruptly turned beet red and scrambled for one of the small bedrooms
with a loud squeak. Oddly, it wasn't her nudity that struck me most
deeply. It was her ankles, made even shapelier by those high heels she
was tottering away on. She had the kind of legs I only dreamed of
having. The slam of the door behind the escaping woman jarred the rest
of us out of our paralysis.

Hawk and Gretchen grinned from the couch and didn't look one bit
disturbed at us barging in. Keven and Sandy, on the other hand, were
obviously embarrassed. They laughed about it, though, and started
scrambling into their clothes in a big hurry.

Ted was grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary, so I
poked him in the ribs. I glanced and saw that the Bellers looked more
amused than shocked. Interesting. Combined with the conversation Jo and
Gretchen had shared earlier, I felt sure that Jo and Earl would be
joining our fun eventually.

"The Orgy Suite," I chimed in following Jo's comment, "where you check
in and everyone else gets to check you out. And the room assignments
can get a little hazy, too."

Jo laughed and threw her arm around the grinning Earl. "Shall we leave
and let everyone get dressed in peace?"

Earl pretended to consider while he ogled the women slipping into their
clothes. "Naw, it looks like everybody's decent now."

Gretchen chuckled. "Hardly that, Earl. We're just dressed."

Hawk smacked her wife on her shapely ass. "You're as bad as Lisa about
waving your assets around, Smart-ass."

The sexual tension drained out of the room as Keven and Sandy finished
dressing. I gestured to our guests to have a seat at the table while
they excused themselves to go wash up. Jo leaned over and whispered to
me. "Are they always so quick on the draw? I thought you just met Keven
and Sandy."

I nodded my head and smiled at Earl, letting him know this wasn't a
private conversation. Ted went into our room following Keven and Sandy.

"We did just meet them," I said with a level voice. "I'm not sure what
happened, but obviously they hit it off. Maybe what happens on the
cruise should stay on the cruise."

Earl laughed a belly laugh and Jo smiled. "This is going to be a very
interesting cruise, I think," Jo said. "What did Hawk mean about waving
your assets around?"

I blushed but didn't let myself get too embarrassed. As an
exhibitionist, I knew damn well that Hawk had me pegged. "I think if
you hang around us long enough, you just might find out," I said with a
grin. "I won't ruin the surprise."

Jo nodded, a thoughtful look on her exotic face.

Hawk came out of the master bedroom and settled at the table with the
rest of us. "Gretchen's trying to talk Trish out of the bathroom, so
she may be a while. I swear if there was a chandelier, Trish would be
hanging from it."

"Or from the ceiling like a cat?" Jo suggested with a smile.

"Or that," Hawk agreed with a grin. "Well, she wants to be an escort
like Gretchen, so she's going to have to get used to not being
embarrassed so easily."

"Easily?" Jo said with a gasp. "Good Lord, perfect strangers walked in
on her having sex! That sounds like a lot to me!"

Ted and Keven coming out of our room interrupted Hawk's reply. Ted
walked up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Keven and I are
going to give you girls' some space and see if we can pin down where
Price is staying. Then we'll find something to keep us busy while you
all talk."

Earl grunted and stood with a nod. "That sounds like a damn good idea,
boys. I think I'll just mosey on out with you and let the little lady
talk without making me blush." He grinned as Jo swatted him, and he
walked out the door laughing with the other men.

Sandy walked into the living room as we burst into laughter. She smiled
and sat down. "What did I miss?"

"We were just laughing at the men being men," Jo said. "They're off to
beat their chests and track Price down. I think they're going to
overwhelm him with testosterone."

"I hope they do," I said. "Price just pisses me off. We have a motion
in the courts to stop his harassment, but it won't be heard until next
week. Our lawyer says we have a very good chance that everything will
be dismissed and Price will be barred from suing us anymore. I can
hardly wait. It's gotten quite obvious that he's only doing it to mess
with us."

Sandy nodded and looked around the table at all of us. "By the way, I'm
sorry we got carried away. I didn't realize that you all were going to
walk in on us. Frankly, I'm still a little unsure how we got started."

I laughed and patted her hand. "It's okay to get carried away
sometimes. I'm not offended. Ted and I are fine with you having sex in
front of us." My eyes gleamed with a shiver of lust. "In fact, I look
forward to returning the favor, if that's okay with you." I widened my
gaze to include Jo. "And I'd be a poor hostess if I didn't invite you
to the party, Jo. You and Earl both are invited, unless that's going
too far for you. If so, I understand."

Jo shrugged. "I'm not offended, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't
arousing. Watching is just fine, but I don't know about involving
anyone else, though. I need to think about it and talk to Earl."

Hawk shook her head. "We're still working on that, too. Either one of
you might get jealous if you saw the other having a good time with
someone else. Though I'll go out on a limb and bet that Earl won't have
any gas if you want to play with the girls," she added dryly.

Jo smiled. "I'm sure you're right. That's why I was dickering a bit
with Gretchen earlier; I think both of us would be interested in
something with her." She blushed, but didn't seem to be terribly
embarrassed about what she'd just admitted.

Hawk gave Jo a sharp look. "You were talking to Gretchen about hiring
her as an escort?"

"Well, we talked about it some, but I told Gretchen that I liked her
too much already to feel comfortable exchanging money for her time."

Hawk's face relaxed into a smile. "I think friendship and respect will
be a much more cherished currency, Jo, and much harder for Gretchen to
resist. I also don't think Gretchen is the only one interested in you
and Earl! So talk to Earl, because you both are more than welcome."

Jo gave Hawk a long, measuring look. "Well, I'll talk to Earl, and if
you don't mind a pair of old fuddy duddies watching, at least, I think
you can count us in. We may be interested in more, but we'll have to
play it by ear."

I turned to Sandy and smiled conspiratorially. "So, fill us in on what
we missed."

With a sly grin, Sandy asked, "So, you want a blow by blow description
of our antics?"

We all groaned, and Hawk muttered something about "another damned pun,"
but waved off my questioning glance.

As Sandy described the action, I felt my stomach flutter. It sounded
like we'd missed a real show. Part of me was already looking forward to
what would likely happen tonight. The vision of Ted laying me on the
table and taking me in front of everyone instantly made my center hot
and gooey. There was something about the idea of doing this on a cruise
among strangers that was liberating. It made something that I wouldn't
have considered doing outside of my deepest fantasies a real
possibility. Not that I'd held back from sex in public before, but I'd
never contemplated anything like what we were talking about doing here.
This could turn into an orgy. An honest to god orgy. And that took my
breath away. I had difficulty even believing I'd brought the subject
up.

When Sandy was done, I pressed her. "So, you two enjoyed sharing Trish.
What about others?"

Sandy shook her head. "We've never shared before, but I think we liked
it. Keven said that so long as we were together, and we both agreed,
then we could do more." Her eyes looked at me in a way that made my
chest feel tight. "Like Jo said, we'll play it by ear, but I think
we're all going to have a fun cruise."

A glance around the table almost made me laugh. We were all almost
licking our chops in anticipation. Sandy was dead right, I'd bet.

"Well, we have to put that off until after dinner, I'm afraid," Sandy
said. "We have another bit of fun to attend to, first."

I blinked in surprise. "Why? What's up?"

Sandy filled us in on the confrontation with Skip Niccio and his
threats to poison pen them this very evening. She was right; it did
sound like a lot of fun.

Hawk picked up the phone, made a call to the central desk, and grinned
shortly, hanging up with a polite "thank you." She waved something
she'd jotted down on a notepad at us. "The ASS Newsgroup annual awards
ceremony will kick off in the main conference room in less than half an
hour."

I blinked. "Okay, now I'm confused. The ASS newsgroup? You mean they're
like AP or UPI? I thought this was some kind of internet porn thing for
socially inept boys. What the hell does ASS stands for?

"Alt Sex Stories," she smirked back. "The woman said it was some
internet thing, so I think you're right, Lisa. Personally, I think they
just had to make up something with the word 'ass' in it. Men!" she said
with a roll of her eyes. General laughter greeted her comment. "We need
a plan to infiltrate this gathering."

"Why?" Sandy asked with a shrug. "Let's just go see what's going on,
and if Skip starts something, we'll deal with it. It's not as if this
is something dangerous, or even all that serious. It's just some
grown-up, adolescent-minded jerk talking shit. We can take that. "

Hawk considered that and nodded. "Good point. I'm making this more
complicated than it needs to be. Let me tell Gretchen where we're
going, and we can hit it."

-----

The noise overwhelmed me when we walked into the convention room. I'd
expected something like a couple dozen "grown-up, adolescent-minded"
guys, but the room was packed. There must have been several hundred
people here. I stopped just inside the door and gawked at the crowd.

Also, the people mostly looked so normal that if I hadn't known who was
meeting here I wouldn't have given them a second glance anywhere else.
Every age and, surprisingly, both genders greeted my astounded gaze. In
fact, there were more than a few women present. A solid minority.

The room was broken down into a long series of tables near the far wall
and dozens of smaller, round tables in the rest of the room. The long
tables held several dozen men and women, as well as a podium with a
microphone.

Hawk spotted Skip and pointed him out to me. He looked as bad as
advertised. He was in a small group of men near the head table and he
seemed to be sneering something at them.

"He's never seen you or Jo," Hawk said to me. "Why don't you both go
scope him out? We'll find a table and hold your seats. God knows I want
to know who's around me when the lights go out in this place." She
shuddered slightly.

I laughed softly. "Come on, I hardly see any over-developed right arms
in here. I'm thinking Skip may be the exception rather than the rule.
Keep an open mind."

"You're telling me to keep an open mind," Hawk said with a gasp.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Then she scowled at my smirk.

"Come on, Jo," I said as I stepped into the swirling crowd, heading
toward the podium. She fell in beside me, and I slid to the left to
come up on Skip from his rear. Despite the no smoking rules inside the
ship, he had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and it bobbed and
spewed ashes as he struck a pose before his admirers. At least, it
looked like he thought they were his admirers. To me, they just looked
shocked. I wondered if he even noticed when some of his ash fell into
his martini.

"Frankly," Skip droned on, "I'm amazed that anyone reads the drivel he
writes at all. I wouldn't be surprised if he used throwaway internet
accounts to vote for his own stories. His characters are
two-dimensional, his plot lines are lame and hackneyed, and he repeats
himself. If he wrote anything fresher than what he does now, he would
be using cuneiform." His listeners seemed stunned at his vitriol, with
several shaking their heads in disgust, but Skip took it as
incomprehension. "Oh, come along, gentlemen! Look it up on your own
time! I can't believe anyone with any taste whatsoever has ever read
The Cuba Tales."

One of the men was clenching his fists and glaring at Skip. He was
tall, slender and not too bad looking. Brown hair trimmed short framed
a nice face: a face now filled with rage.

Skip seemed oblivious as the man forced himself to turn around and
stalk away. A few others followed, but the rest of the listeners looked
like they were watching a train wreck, or a rerun of the Anna Nicole
Smith show. It was so bad you just couldn't take your eyes off it, even
though it horrified you. Skip, however was oblivious, and he just
continued to drip venom on whoever Southland38 was.

Jo winked at me and followed the man that had left. She'd no doubt get
the dirt on what this all meant.

Apparently tired of ripping into someone else, Skip started talking
about himself and his own work, using the most ridiculous levels of
hyperbole I'd ever heard. While he started comparing the nuance of his
work to that of Hemingway, I was trying to figure out how such a skinny
guy could puff his chest out so much. As a well-dressed gentleman began
telling everyone to take their seats, Skip whispered conspiratorially
to the group. "Listen up for some good news in my speech."

As Skip sauntered to the head table and the crowd broke up, I heard
more than a few people mutter less than appreciative thoughts about
Skip. It rapidly became apparent that the man that walked off was none
other than Southland38 himself! I snorted quietly to myself; Skip sure
seemed to have a way with people.

When about half the people had resumed their seats, I spotted Hawk and
Sandy sitting with a man that looked to be in his late thirties and an
attractive dark-haired woman. The woman was chatting with Sandy and the
man was jotting something down on a notepad as Hawk spoke to him.

"...and you don't mind if I get some background material from you? I'd
rather write an entertaining story that wasn't completely off the
mark," the man was saying. "And it sounds like being a cop and a
lesbian might make for an interesting story. Or perhaps a whole series
of stories."

"I don't mind giving you some background information on the lesbian or
cop communities." The man beamed, and Hawk held up her hand. "However,
before you write a single word that even vaguely resembles my life,
even if you change the names, I want to read some of your stuff. And,
even if I do agree after that, I want to have a chance to approve what
you write first."

The man nodded and looked at me curiously as I took a seat. "Of course.
I'd never write anything about someone, even with the names changed,
without giving them the chance to clear it or change it, even, before I
published it."

"Good, then I think we can talk," Hawk said, turning to me. "Lisa, this
is Wine Maker and his wife. He somehow thinks a pregnant lesbian ex-cop
is story worthy." She snickered softly to herself. 'I think he's
crazy,' was left unsaid, but was quite obvious.

I gave her a warning look and smiled at Wine Maker.

He held out his hand to me. "A pleasure."

His wife introduced herself, and I shook her hand as Wine Maker
continued. "My wife edits my work. And I promise that if you're part of
Hawk's story, you'll get a chance to approve anything involving you.
Think of it like Doctor Watson chronicling the exploits of Sherlock
Holmes. I'll protect any detail that you wouldn't want known publicly,
but I promise I'll still figure out how to tell the story in an
interesting way."

"As long as my name is changed, and the city and state where I live and
work are changed, Hawk can speak for me. I'm Lisa. If you don't my
asking, why the fake name? I noticed that others seem to do the same."

Wine Maker laughed. "Writing erotica seems to make people worry. I'm
not ashamed of what I write, but this being the internet; at least a
little bit of caution is a good thing. Now maybe you can satisfy my
curiosity; what brings a bunch of people who have never written, or
apparently even read, internet erotica to the awards banquet?"

I gestured toward the head table. "We know someone that knows Skip
Niccio, and Skip was threatening to trash her reputation in public, so
we decided to come listen to him. Is he going to win an award?"

Wine Maker shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first one he's won. He writes
some good stuff, and he knows how to keep the fans begging for more. He
uses two tricks that I can see: he never answers questions about his
stories and he quite effectively verbally eviscerates anyone who is
critical. Belittling his fans like that seems to make him even more
popular. I'm not sure why. His major story is going to be four books
long, and will probably wind up longer than the Lord of the Rings, from
what I hear. He's finished posting all but the last book, and he has
his fans wildly speculating about which of the girls the 'hero' ends up
married to at the end and which one of the girls will end up dead."

Hawk seemed dubious. "I've met him. I can't believe he writes that
well. The man is slime, and slime is the one thing a cop does know
something about."

Wine Maker shrugged. "Writing is often a solitary pursuit. Not many of
his fans know much about him at all. I didn't even know what he looked
like until tonight."

The speaker was finally getting the crowd into their seats when Jo
wandered back up and took her seat. I introduced her to Wine Maker and
his wife and let them chat while I focused my attention on the awards
ceremony.

"To everyone that made it here to the Alt dot Sex dot Stories First
Annual Awards cruise, I say 'Welcome!' I'm Night Stranger. I'll just
leave it up to you to guess which one."

Everyone laughed, but I didn't see what was so funny. I hated inside
jokes.

"We hope to be able to make this trip an annual event," Night Stranger
continued. "Now rather than blather on and waste your good cruise time,
let me cut to the chase. There were a lot of good stories this last
year and I realize we've tortured you all terribly by withholding the
names of the winners of last year's Golden Clitorides but the time is
here to pass out some well deserved accolades."

He held up an envelope. "Each one of us at the head table has an award
to present this year and it is my pleasure to start off the parade with
the Best Erotic Story of the Year." With a neat twist of his finger, he
opened the envelope and pulled out a card. "The winner is... Outside
Paris, Book 3: Kena, by Skip Niccio!"

With a smile that told the world that he wasn't in the least surprised,
Skip strutted to the podium and smirked at the crowd. He pulled
something from the inner pocket of his jacket and set it on the podium
before clearing his throat.

"I've never had the opportunity to directly accept an award before, and
I must say that it's a more moving experience than I'd anticipated," he
said with a knowing grin. "I knew my story would be popular but you've
all exceeded my expectations. Thank you."

 From the murmuring, the crowd thought that was somewhat a backhanded a
complement. I restrained the laughter that wanted to bubble up to a
chuckle. Maybe I was wrong about him being mostly an ass; he just might
be a complete ass instead.

"I'd like to take a moment to pass along some good news to you, my
adoring fans!" Skip continued. "After several months of intense
negotiation between my agent and a certain unnamed publishing house, I
am now in a position to sign a three book publishing deal for a new
series. The package is worth six figures!"

That brought the crowd to its feet and I rose reluctantly along with
the rest, clapping politely. Skip held onto the podium and I thought he
was going to bow or blow kisses for a second. He let the crowd cheer
for a moment and then gestured for quiet. I resumed my seat and
listened while trying to figure out how a frog like him had ever gotten
a publisher to agree to anything. Didn't they actually speak to the
authors?

"That bit of good news comes along with a sad note," Skip continued.
"I'm afraid that to cinch the deal, I was forced to grant the publisher
her wishes in some other areas. I realize it's not going to come as
good news to many of you, but she didn't like the fact that my name has
been associated with erotica. That means, unfortunately, that Misty,"
he brandished a floppy disk that must have come from his jacket pocket,
"the just completed Book 4 of Outside Paris, will never be published."

The crowd briefly blinked in confusion and then rose to their feet
again, this time with a howl of outrage and anguish. Skip looked
completely taken aback at the roar of objection from all sides.

I looked around and started feeling nervous about all the people. These
people looked pissed. I felt an impending sense of doom.

Hawk looked at Jo and me, slapping the table. "That's it. Time to go."

Skip was shouting and trying to talk over all the people that were
crowding the podium, but all I could hear was something about "having
no choice" and "having already pulled the other books from the web."

It was getting even uglier than I'd feared. Some of these people were
really angry, shouting things like "sellout," and "traitor." Someone
shouted that if Skip followed through, he might just kill his sorry
ass. Wine Maker and his wife waved at us as we departed, maintaining
their seats amidst the chaos. Wine Maker was busy scribbling notes
while his wife just shook her head at the swirling swarm of erotica
writers.

We were almost to the door when it burst open and another group of
people rushed into the room. The distinguished looking gentleman at
their lead looked vaguely familiar to me, but Hawk obviously knew him
since she abruptly stopped in her tracks and started backing up.

"Oh, shit!" she said as the man speared her with a righteous glare from
less than ten feet away.

"I am sadly disappointed to find you here, Hawk," he said sadly,
shaking his head. "You've let sin take over your life if these are the
kind of people you choose to associate with. What would your husband
say?" The other people spread out behind him and I realized this must
be the Right Reverend Swaggwell.

"I don't need to explain anything to you or your kind, Reverend," Hawk
said defiantly. "For your information, I don't have a husband. I have a
wife. I'm a lesbian."

My stomach tightened at the flash of anger in the depths of Swaggwell's
eyes. They were the eyes of a fanatic. I grabbed Hawk by the shoulder
and started pulling her back.

Swaggwell shifted his angry gaze to me. "The two of you are
abominations against God, and you'll burn in Hell. Still, it's not too
late to turn back from the gates of Hell. Pray to God for forgiveness
and repent." Then he stalked past us, with the crowd at his heels
glaring their hatred at all four of us as they passed.

"Pornographers!" Swaggwell shouted at the crowd, quickly getting their
full attention. "Sodomites and sinners! With every filthy word, you
condemn yourselves to everlasting damnation! Repent," he commanded in a
stern voice. "Repent before God strikes you down wherever he finds
you!"

"Oh, shit, is right," I said weakly. "Let's get the hell out of here
right now!"

Hawk was all for wading back into the developing brawl but allowed the
three of us to drag her out the door to the sounds of a riot growing
behind us. A crewman was standing in the hall talking on a cell phone
in Italian, gesticulating with both hands. I wasn't sure how that
helped the person on the other end of the connection understand him,
but I could make a good guess at what he was calling about.

We passed half a dozen crewmen running toward the convention room as we
got to the elevators. We'd escaped just in time, it seemed.

-----

Over the next few hours, we changed, tracked the men down and made
arraignments to get a larger table for all of us at dinner. It was
amazing what pull having the Presidential Suite had. Our serving time
started just after dark.

Gretchen even coaxed Trish out of the bathroom to join us. She was
still blushing prettily, and I gave her a warm smile to offset her
embarrassment.

With our new friends, that made nine people, so one of the big circular
tables was perfect. As we were ordering our drinks, the dining room
started to fill up with well-dressed guests, and the babble of voices
was actually relaxing.

Hawk told the rest of our friends about the details of the riot and had
everyone's undivided attention. At least she did until Skip Niccio
walked in, huffed his way over to a small, two-person table about
twenty feet away and glared at Trish.

I put my hand on Trish's leg under the table and she relaxed at once,
smiling her thanks at me. She proceeded to pretend Skip wasn't there
while I returned his glare with a big smile. I could see it was
infuriating him further, and that made me feel perversely pleased with
myself. I looked over at Hawk to share my amusement, but she was
glaring at something to my side.

When I turned and looked, I was less than pleased to see the Right
Reverend staring at us as though he was going to drive the sin right
out of us from his own small table. He was glaring at me in particular.
I wondered why until I remembered that I had my hand on Trish's leg,
and he thought I was Hawk's wife. I was a lesbian, and perhaps even
worse in his eyes, a promiscuous lesbian.

Well, I figured I was pretty much damned in his eyes now anyway, wasn't
I? I supposed this also meant I was off his Christmas fund raising
drive for sure, so maybe there was an upside. The little devil inside
me started whispering that sometimes already being damned could be a
big plus.

I looked back over and made sure that Skip was still glaring at Trish
and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then I slid my hand
further along Trish's leg, to the hem of her skirt.

Trish gasped slightly and turned her head to gaze at me in surprise.

I smiled at her and raised an eyebrow questioningly, giving her the
option to tell me no.

Trish blushed prettily and looked to Gretchen, but she was engaged in
an animated discussion with Hawk. Probably about the Reverend. She did
catch Sandy's attention, though. An unspoken communication of looks and
head gestures took place in seconds. A man would never have understood
Trish, but Sandy just looked stern, almost commanding, as she nodded to
Trish.

When Trish looked back at me, the blush had faded into a flush around
her neck and chest. Her pupils had become a little unfocused with
arousal, and she nodded to me.

I leaned in and kissed her cheek softly. "You don't have to," I
whispered. "I just thought it would tweak Skip and the Reverend. And
because I find the thought of touching you in front of all these
people, with none of them knowing what's happening, erotic. It turns me
on like a firecracker."

"I want you to," she whispered back. "I'm still not sure what I'm
doing, but this excites me. It excited me when Sandy told me what to
do. I know I can say no, but when it looks like she's making me do
something, I get all hot inside."

"Then we need to talk about what submission is later. For now, try to
not scream or moan. I want you to come but not let anyone else even
know. Do you understand?"

Trish nodded dreamily. "I'll do what you tell me to do, Lisa."

By now, Gretchen and Hawk were looking at us. A glance told me that
everyone at the table was, and a bit of a blush rose in me. Sandy was
grinning like nobody's business. She must have narced me out to
everyone else. I looked to Gretchen to see if she was going to wave me
off.

Gretchen was watching Trish like a hawk, and an unspoken communication
seemed to travel between them. There weren't even the facial gestures
that she used with Sandy. With a smile and a nod, Gretchen also gave me
the green light.

With a last glance at the Reverend, I shifted my gaze to Skip. "Trish,
honey," I said in a normal voice, "I want you to look at Skip. Keep
your attention on him and tell everyone what I'm doing. Keep it low
enough that only we can hear you. If a server or someone else comes up,
you stop talking and play it cool. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lisa," Trish said in a dreamy, but understandable voice. "Lisa
has her hand on my leg, with her fingers just under the hem of my
skirt. Just thinking about it has me all wet inside."

I focused my attention on Skip and smiled at him again. I let my hand
begin to wander up Trish's thigh and listened to her as if she was
describing someone else doing what I was doing. The split perception of
doing something and hearing a description of it from her was making me
so hot.

"Now she's sliding her hand up my thigh," Trish said, "Her fingers are
just barely touching the hem of my panties." Her eyes moved along from
person to person at the table making eye contact. They all seemed
riveted, leaning forward to listen to her every word.

Gently, I slid the fabric of her panties aside and began tracing my
fingertip up and down the slowly swelling lips of her pussy. She
breathlessly described the incredible sensations she was feeling and
her words lit a fire inside me. I slowly slid a finger between her
labia and rubbed her clit.

Trish's eyes tried to roll back into her head but she kept control with
a shuddering breath. "God, Lisa's rubbing my clit. I feel like a
volcano is erupting inside me." She focused her eyes on Keven. "It's
not as good as when it was your tongue, but it's here in front of
hundreds of people. Skip is watching me. I can tell he knows what
Lisa's doing, and that alone makes it somehow more intense."

Trish was right about one thing. She felt hot enough for a volcano to
be erupting between her legs. I twisted my hand and gently slid two
fingers inside my new friend. It was like slipping my fingers into
liquid metal. She was hot and dripping wet. I felt a matching heat
blazing between my own thighs as the exhibitionist in me realized what
a show I was putting on.

Now Trish's eyes did roll back into her head for a moment and she
gasped. Not loud enough to garner any fresh attention, but the matching
looks of outrage confirmed that both Skip and the Reverend knew exactly
what my hand was doing between Trish's legs.

I leaned against Trish again and kissed her neck softly, whispering
into her ear. "You're losing concentration, Trish. Pull yourself
together and look at Skip."

Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to focus on Skip. I doubt she was
really looking at him, but she was at least looking toward him.

"Lick your lips slowly," I commanded her. "Let him know exactly how
much you're enjoying me finger fucking you. Tell me you like it."

"God, I love it," she said. "Your fingers feel so good inside me. I'm
so turned on that I could come just thinking about it. I love you
telling me what to do."

The tablecloth hid most of the action and I gave into temptation and
slid my own skirt up onto my lap, pulling Trish's hand between my legs.
If Trish was going to have a good time as a submissive, then I had a
duty to see that she explored that side of herself fully.

"Do to me what I'm doing to you," I told her firmly.

Trish never even hesitated. Her fingers were a bit awkward when she
slid them into my pussy, but she picked up the rhythm almost at once.

"Trish is sliding two fingers inside me right now," I told everyone.
"Watch her make love to me in front of Skip and Swaggwell." I might
have started behind Trish, but she had me squirming in my seat as badly
as I had her in seconds.

Skip had his eyes locked on mine and he seemed paralyzed. I smirked and
let my gaze wander around to see if anyone else had noticed our antics.
I did see Price, but his angle was too bad to see anything at all. He
was spending his time staring at Ted. The only other person watching
our table was a man dressed impeccably in a dark suit. His gaze fell on
me and almost knocked me out of the moment. It was his eyes. They were
so cold and unemotional. Then he smiled thinly and looked away,
seemingly splitting his attention with everyone around him, though he
could have been looking longer at Price, Skip or the Reverend. It was
hard to say.

I looked away from him and forced my eyes back to Ted's. "Trish is
going to make me come, Ted. Right here in the middle of a packed dining
room. Does that excite you?"

Ted nodded, his eyes bright with a mixture of lust and love. "Oh, yes,"
he said. "Tonight, you get rewarded, Sweet Lisa. But you have a
problem."

Trish was starting to lose her battle to keep her face from showing her
excitement and I knew she was so close to coming that it would only
take another minute to push her over the top.

"What problem is that, Sexy?" I asked him huskily.

"Okay, which of you has the lobster and baked potato?" the voice of our
waiter asked from right behind me.

I almost flew out of the chair in surprise and flushed deeply as I
smiled back at him. "Sorry, that's me." My voice sounded guilty, and it
also sounded like I was being fucked. Which I was. Trish never even
slowed down pumping her fingers inside me. Oh, God. I could feel my
internal heat soaring as she did me right in front of this stranger. I
had to break her attention, or I was going to shoot off like a bottle
rocket. I buried my fingers inside Trish and started rubbing her G
spot.

Trish was barely able to tell him that she was also having lobster
before her eyes seemed to lose focus again. Luckily, he was already
past her and dealing with everyone else, who were doing their best to
distract the server's attention.

Trish stiffened and gasped softly. Keven immediately focused the
server's attention on himself, taking him to task for some imaginary
defect in his meal while Trish's hot sex began rhythmically clamping
down on my fingers as she humped my fingers and came in a rush.

That pushed me over the top and I had to clamp my jaws almost painfully
as I came all over sweet Trish's fingers. Together we writhed in our
seats for what seemed like minutes but had to have only been seconds. I
almost gasped as Trish slid her fingers out of me with a wet sucking
feeling that I could almost swear I actually heard.

I swallowed and sat back in my own chair, fumbling to get my underwear
back across my throbbing sex and my skirt down. I was weak from the
force of the orgasm and Trish didn't looked much better. Frankly, she
looked like she'd just been fucked senseless. I wondered if I looked
any better. Probably not.

With a wicked grin at Trish, I brought my hand to my face and took a
deep breath, breathing in her scent. How could the server miss smelling
aroused female at this table? Maybe he was gay?

Trish blushed deeply and brought her own hand to her lips. I watched
her take a deep breath of her own, and then her small, pink tongue
began licking my juices off her hand while her eyes smoked at me.

Trembling with an aftershock of passion, I joined her is cleaning
myself with my tongue. Admittedly, the only pussy I'd ever tasted
beside my own had been Hawk's, but hers seemed as different from Hawk's
as Hawk's was from my own. Still, it seemed to taste like innocence.
She tasted crisp and sweet, like an apple straight from the tree.

"I've never tried this... sauce... before, Lisa," Trish said with
hardly a tremor in her voice. "You were right. I think I could become
very used to something so good. It's not like the... steak sauce... at
all."

Her knowing smile made me laugh. She was teasing me!

"I'm more partial to the steak sauce myself, but Hawk swears by the
lobster dip," I quipped back.

"It is finger-licking good, isn't it?" our server asked with an
unknowing grin is he finished setting the last of the food on the
table. "Though I agree with you about the steak sauce being better."

Everyone at the table burst out laughing and the server let his
eyebrows climb with confused amusement and made sure we had everything
we needed. Then he pushed the cart away, shaking his head at our
antics.

"You're so bad!" Jo said with a wild grin. "That was incredibly risky!
What if someone had seen something?"

"Someone did," I smirked, looking over toward Skip's table. It was
empty now. That made me laugh even harder. We'd run him off! "Skip was
watching. And the Reverend."

"He's gone now," Hawk said with a wry smile. "I didn't see him go, but
you must have driven him crazy. God knows you drove me crazy." Her eyes
glinted with lust. Then she kissed Gretchen thoroughly.

That set off a wave of hot kisses between the committed partners. Ted's
hot mouth devoured mine and my heart was a trip hammer in my chest. I
knew I couldn't but I wanted to take him right here.

Finally, he let me up for air and pulled my hand to his lips. He sucked
at my fingers, his hot and agile tongue reminding me of the pleasures
he would be giving me tonight. He sucked my fingers like he was giving
me a mini-blowjob, stripping the last of Trish's juices from my hand.

"Trish wants you," he said with a smile, and then went back to his
loving task.

I turned my head and she was right there, clamping her lips to mine in
a hot kiss that reignited the furnace from earlier. It was intense, but
brief. I think I'd have to get Gretchen to let me help with the kissing
lessons.

"Thank you," she said too softly for anyone but me to hear. "Thank you
for knowing what I wanted, even if I didn't."

"We'll talk about it some more after dinner," I assured her. "Thank you
for making one of my wildest fantasies come true."

The kissing finally ended, and we all looked around guiltily to see if
anyone else had noticed. The few smiles that came our way were of the
amused kind. So, they'd noticed the kissing but missed the mutual
masturbation. That filled me with an incredible feeling of power and
control.

"For some reason I'm starved," I told everyone.

They laughed hysterically, and we all dug into our food as though we
were starved.

-----

An hour later, we were sitting among the wreckage of dinner. We'd
wolfed it all down and done serious damage to the desert cart, too. I'd
need to settle my dinner down before I could even think about raping
Ted.

I pushed my chair back and stood up. "I don't know about all of you,
but I need a walk in the moonlight to clear my head and put dinner to
rest."

"Good idea," Ted said. "Let's go out to the railing and maybe watch the
moonlight on the ocean? The sun's been down long enough that it should
be nice and dark out." There were nods all around the table, and we all
got up and made our way out of the dining room.

Not only was it dark out, but the moonlight glinted beautifully off the
rolling ocean below us. It was incredibly romantic, and I pulled Ted
into a deep kiss. His arms molded me against his body, and it was
almost like we were making love in a pool of the silver light. The fact
that the overhead lamp was out, and the only strong light we were
getting came from the moon, added to the surreal nature of the kiss. I
would have let him do anything to me for as long as he wanted, even
though I longed to drag him off to the suite and out to our private
balcony to make love to me.

However, that moment was so perfect it couldn't last. "Hey, someone
left their jacket out here," Trish said.

I pulled my lips away from Ted's as Trish came out of the pool of
darkness that filled the forward-most corner of the observation deck.
The jacket looked damaged. Someone must have left it out on one of the
seats.

"Let me see that," Hawk said abruptly. The strum of suspicion in her
voice hit me like fingers stroking a harp sharply. That was her "cop"
voice.

Hawk took the jacket from Trish and waddled toward the closest working
light. She stopped under the light and looked the jacket over closely.
Trish had been right about the jacket being torn. One sleeve had been
almost ripped off.

"This is Skip's jacket," Hawk said coolly, professionally. "The sleeve
is almost torn off and the inner pocket is missing. And there's blood
on the lapel."

"If this is Skip's, then where is he?" Trish asked in confusion.

We all stared at Hawk as she looked over the rail at the sea. A cold
wind seemed to blow through the tropical heat and straight up my spine
as I realized what she was thinking.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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