Raymond: The Truth and a Lie

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Rated R for sexuality and mature themes.

Paloma’s First Tale: Dog and Butterflies

Paloma let out a long sigh. “This isn’t my first cruise ship journey, not by a lot. But it’s the first one where I wasn’t working.” Her gaze seemed to fade into the past, to see things the rest of us couldn’t see.

“You worked on cruise ships?” Gianni asked. “What’d you do?”

“Might be more appropriate to ask what I didn’t do?” Her eyes dropped and the rest of us shared a look. Except Mina, who had her eyes closed and a satisfied smile on her face. “Don’t worry. The cruise ship job was a step up from what I was doing before. I had health care. A safe place to sleep every night. Alone if I wanted to be.”

“I was a dance instructor, musical accompaniment, a massage therapist, wait staff, and a lot of other jobs. Figure my time on cruise ships has given me enough immunity that this bat flu won’t kill me. I’ve been on board for MERSA, MERS, and SARS. And I’ve survived affairs with rich and poor men. And women.

“I was on a cruise going up the fjiords in Norway, cold as a witch’s tit, spent my off hours in the sauna.

“It was a business trip, the whole ship. A bunch of men from some insurance company. There were some women, too, but not enough. Anyone with an ounce of feminity on that trip was in a state of feeling constantly lusted for. Not a great feeling.

“The sauna quickly became off limits. Those of us not interested in earning extra… tips, where left to fend for ourselves, hanging out in staterooms together. Only going outside when we had our hours. We told stories. It’s why I came up with this idea three days ago.

“There was this guy. Mr. Hot Shot thought he was hot $**T. Always had stories to tell. Nice voice. Decent looking, but middle aged, wedding ring sun tan. Charming in a smarmy way. 

Far enough up in the hierarchy of the company to have plenty of power and plenty of cash to burn. By the end of the first week he’d been with anyone who had a price. Those of us who were left felt like he needed to be taken down a peg or two after he started telling stories about our friends; this woman’s birthmark, that one’s moan.

“We came up with a plan to seriously embarrass him, with enough proff to keep ourselves safe, so we wouldn’t lose our jobs.

We set up a rendezvous; was a business deal, two young women on the crew would complete a menage a trois with him. I was one of the two to do it. The deal included the most expensive dinner on the menu with him first. The money would be really good, and would be divided among those of us he’d wronged.

Even before the dinner we got the liquor flowing. While both of us girls drank only white wine, which we’d arranged with the waiter to be non-alcoholic, the waiter came regularly to refill his glass. His drinks were strong and we’d even ground up some muscle relaxer pills that the cook sprinkled in his fettuccini. By the time we’d had dessert, we were pretty sick of him.

He wobbled down the gangway to his suite, the two of us keeping him standing up. Getting his key out was quite the challenge.

When I reached into his pocket as he couldn’t handle it, he leered at me.

“Find anything in there you like?”

“Not the key to my room,” I retorted, shoving his key into his lock and twisting his knob.

My girlfriend maneuvered him through the door.

“Excuse me?”

I spun from the door to find a pleasant looking middle aged guy who I’d noticed eating dinner by himself. He looked slightly red in the face. My eyes dropped to my feet. “May I help you?”

“I hope to help you.”

I faced him, challenging. “What do you mean?”

“That man in there is scum. I’ve known him for decades. You and your friend don’t want to do what your planning to do.”
“And you know what we’re planning to do?” 

“Pretty predictable knowing that pig in there.”

“Actually, I, we were planning on embarrassing him. He hurt my friend. Not physically, but he made promises…”
“He’s good at that.” 

I heard my girlfriend’s laugh inside the suite. I needed to get in to help her. “What’s your offer.”
“I’ll match whatever he’s paying you. I’m not sloppy drunk and I’m not an A.H.”

“I’m not sure what AH means.” 

Now he glanced down at his feet. “A** H**e.”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Offer is for tonight. Sleeping with him rescinds my offer.”

“Can you wait here?”

He nodded. “I was planning on waiting either way. Just in case.”

My girlfriend called, “Paloma, need your help in here.”

I hustled inside and the door shut itself behind me. 

She’s coming toward me, giggling. “O.M.G. He was just taking his pants down…” She pulled me forward into the lounging area of the suite. He was on the couch with his ass in the air. Snoring… “This is too easy. Hold on a second. Have you taken a picture yet?” 

“No, I’ll get to that. I’ve got an idea.”

“Me, too. I’ve got someone outside to help us get him into the bed.”

By the time I got to the gentleman outside I could hardly stop laughing myself. I pulled him into the room in time to see my girlfriend taking a selfie with her hand, one his slippers and looking like she was about to beat his butt with it. I couldn’t take it, sputtering laughter had totally stopped my ability to speak. But I took her phone so that the angle was better, showed his face and not hers. 

When I’d gotten a couple good shots, I motioned for the two of them to help me get him into bed. We got him naked and I took the notepad with the cruise ships logo on it and scribbled. 

Something to the affect that we’d enjoyed making the video and were sorry about his “inability” to perform, and so on…

Then we left with Mr. Leon, three of still laughing, suddenly part of a team. We went to his suite and he opened a bottle of wine. He asked how much Mr. Hot Shot had paid us. We told him and he paid us each that sum. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my dress, but when I went to touch his thigh. He brushed my hand aside. Said he hadn’t brought us there for that. 

My girlfriend and I exchanged a concerned glance. 

Then he offered us jobs. Real jobs. Working for him. He spent the rest of the voyage teaching us about his industry. My girlfriend dropped out of the trio the next day, but I decided to ride this wave until it crested. 

I worked for him as his personal assistant for six years. He put me through school.”

She paused for a moment, blinking back tears. “He was one of the first people hit with the virus. He’s in quarantine and it’s not looking good. But I needed to tell his story. He saved my life, left me free to fly.”