Dana

After Oceania docked at the Port of Miami, I met my father in the reception lobby to bid farewell to our passengers as they disembarked.  There was always a certain sadness to it, saying goodbye to new friends and funny personalities that we knew we’d never see again.  Even so, nobody ever wore anything but a smile, especially to shake my father’s hand and even to see me.  My father wore his full captain’s uniform for these occasions, so tall and handsome, his brown hair graying just a bit around the sides.  Captain Seth Ballard treated every passenger like a diplomat from the beginning of the cruise to the very end.  And our customers often behaved in a similar fashion, if the rumors one heard about Washington debauchery were true. 

They didn’t call Oceania ‘the commotion on the ocean’ for nothing.

After seven days of the pure recreation on the greatest floating resort on the high seas, the usually college-aged passengers walked past with relaxed smiles, darkly tanned skin, colorful t-shirts, swollen bellies.  They'd eaten and drank and played to the hilt, a floating Spring Break, and there was nothing to do by then but to shake the captain’s hand and maybe a last-minute flirtation with his daughter, also the lead singer in the show band and, therefore, a shipboard minor celebrity.

One young man, who’d gone without wearing a shirt for most of those seven days, had been especially amorous, despite Dana’s courteous refusals.  She was well-experienced in the tender art of letting them down gently; she did it every single time.

“There’s the angel of the Atlantic,” he said, referring to more than just my blue eyes and blonde hair, which did give me a certain look, I suppose.  But he went on, “I’m gonna take this cruise every six months until you agree to marry me,” he said, his voice looping with a slight surfer accent, popular in the West Coast, especially Southern California.

But Capt. Ballard smiled with a little nod.  “We look forward to seeing you again … ”

“And again,” I said, “and again … and again … ”

We all shared a chuckle as the young man joined his friends and walked out of the air-conditioned reception area to the already humid Miami morning.

Another man approached with a woman on his arm, though both had arrived separately.  He shook my father’s hand, thanked him for a fine voyage, then turned his attention to me.  He was young, but he had a professional air that a lot of our frat-boy and sorority-sister passengers lacked.  He asked me, “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

I smiled, deliberately bashful and more than just a little flattered.  “I don't think so, Mr, Sanders.”

“Douglass, please.  I’m telling you, Dana, a voice like yours, that face, that body ... ”  This made me flinch, but not because I was uncomfortable with my body or with being complimented about it.  More and more, I felt men on the ship staring at me, looking me up and down.  And I knew why.  Over the previous twelve years I’d grown from gawky tween to a pretty and vivacious teenage girl and then to an attractive young woman.  I didn’t obsess over it, or use my looks the way Caroline did, but I knew I’d grown up to be quite pretty, and men were more and more interested in telling me so.  But I didn’t like hearing it while I was standing next to my father!

Douglass went on, “You could be a big, big star.  Don’t tell me that’s not what you really want.”

I glanced at my father, and he down at me.  That made me nervous, because I never could keep anything from my father.  Not that I lied to him, I never did.  But I didn’t always want him to know what I was thinking every time.  And he was so smart and knew me so well, it was just about impossible to prevent it.

So I gave him the answer I’d given before, the one or two times such an invitation had come up.  “That’s really very sweet, but I just don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Douglass Sanders shook his head, his gorgeous brunette companion glancing around, increasingly annoyed with the conversation.  “Dana, I’ve produced hits for Brianna, for Heather Gates, for New Girls in Town, and I can tell you … you’re ready.”

But I could feel my father’s gaze upon me, and I just didn’t want to get too far into it, not there and then.  So I said, “Well, I’ve got your business card,” which wasn’t entirely the truth.  He’d given me three of them.

“Use it,” Douglass said, pointing at me with his index finger as if he were shooting me with an imaginary gun.  With that, he led he new conquest away, slipping his five-hundred-dollar aviator sunglasses over his face.

My father stared at me, and I tried to look away.  It wasn’t easy, despite the many distractions in the lobby.  Cruise director Caroline Sempter nodded and smiled and had to fend off would-be suitors of her own.  Male passengers, and a lot of the females too, gave their eyes one long, last drag across Caroline’s face and body, committing it to memory.  They copped their last feels, pulling her close for a kiss on the cheek, maybe a glance of side-boob.  Caroline was the belle of the ball, and that didn’t surprise me; it happened every time.  Caroline was gorgeous, with long, curly red hair, creamy freckled skin, green eyes, an hour-glass physique, long legs.  The curves of her tones calves led up into her smooth thighs, their curves pressing against the inside of that white skirt.  Her breasts were round and firm, straining the buttons of her blouse.  Her waist was small and graceful, tempting any man to rest his hands there.  She had thick, full lips that shimmered with gloss, plump and so kissable.  The nape of her neck was creamy and freckled, her little ears hiding beneath all those brassy red curls.  I’ve never had a thing for girls, but honestly, if I did, Caroline might be just the kind of woman I’d go after.  And she was every bit as charming and outgoing as she was pretty, smiling and laughing and casually setting her hand on a man’s arm, his shoulder, leaning in close.  She enjoyed their attention, and she enjoyed giving them her own.  I often wondered what else she gave them, but I didn’t know for sure and, to be honest, I really didn’t want to know. 

It was just one of the many things she and I didn’t have in common.  Caroline had an outgoing way about her that I never had, a confidence, a certainty that she was the prettiest woman in the room, the most desirable, even if she wasn’t.  Oceania was a floating playground for the young and frivolous with at least some money to spend and most of their lives ahead of them.  The young men were almost exclusively well-built, toned, in the peak of their youth.  And the girls were often flawless, with sparkling smiles and bodies free of even a speck of body fat.  Even so, perhaps even more so because of it, Caroline flashed those big green eyes with practiced skill, rolling her shoulder just so.

Still smiling and nodding at the disembarking passengers, my father said to me, “Don’t forget the meeting, in the grand banquet hall.”

“Of course not, Daddy.  When have I ever missed a meeting?”

He shrugged.  “How often do we have staff-wide meetings at the last minute?  Just running a tight ship, dear.”

“No no, you’re right, Daddy.  But I’ll be there.”

“I know you will be,” he said, giving me a little kiss on the side of my head.

*

The grand banquet hall, the largest of three, was filled with every member of the Oceania staff.  I sat near my father instead of with Sticks Simmons, Eric Newton, Barry Meuller and the rest of the musicians in the show band. The room still smelled quite strongly of bacon and coffee from the morning breakfast.

“There’s something a bit unique about our trip out to Bermuda this time,” my father said, his hands behind his back, pacing slowly in the front of the room.  “In fact, in all my years on the sea, I’ve never come across anything like it.”

“Daddy?” I said, expressing the piqued interest of everybody in the room. 

My father held his hands out to calm me and anyone else with my growing confusion.  “All’s well, folks, take it easy.  The thing is, we’re setting out with a very special guest.”  But this only furthered my confusion.  We’d had special guests before; celebrities, sports stars, even the sons of famous politicians.  But we all knew not to share anything we saw happen or try to use it against any of the passengers, so there was no reason to gather us all together just for that.

My father explained, “His name is Preston Hutchinson.”  I was thinking, How special could he be?  I’ve never heard of him.  But my father once again seemed to be reading my mind.  “He made a fortune in tech stocks, real estate — ”

Barry Mueller brushed his long, feathered brown hair from his handsome face.  “Is he famous?  I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.”

“He’s too rich to be famous,” my father answered, some of our crew chuckling.  I noticed Hector Gonzales and a few of the other bartenders sharing smiles and nods.  Wealthy single dads meant two things to bartenders; lots of drinks and big tips.

“Mister Hutchinson,” my father went on, “or Hutch as he apparently likes to be called, is arriving with his young daughter, Blu.  She’s nine, I think, maybe ten.”

Oceania was basically a party boat, not perfect for a kid that age.  But I could already name a dozen or more fun things for him to do, so I still couldn’t quite figure why my father had called this big meeting.

But then he stopped pacing, turned to face me and the rest of the crew.  “And they’re coming alone.”

I was completely stumped.  A man traveling with his son was no Earth-shattering news.  It happened quite a bit, as I thought about it.  I had to assume, The guy’ll probably go home with a new girlfriend.  If he's that rich, it’s almost a certainty.

I even thought I saw Caroline’s posture straightening just a bit, shoulders back, breasts pushing out from behind her uniform blue jacket.

“I think we can handle that,” Caroline said.

My father smiled.  “I should hope so.  Because when I said they were coming alone, what I meant was … they’re going to be our only passengers on this run.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.  “The whole ship, Daddy?”

“Stem to stern,” he said.  “As I said, it’s … unusual.”

I couldn’t help but repeat, “Unusual?  It’s just … weird.”  Members of the staff chuckled, but my father wore a stern, authoritarian expression and respectful silence returned to the grand banquet hall.

“You know better than that, Dana.  He’s our passenger, and money or no money, he and his daughter deserve the best service we have to offer.”

“Of course, Capt. Ballard,” Caroline said, shooting a nasty little glare at me from the corner of her eye, careful not to let my father see.  “We’ll show them the time of their lives, of course.”

Barry asked, “Does he have special requests for the band?”

“If he does,” my father said, “I’m sure he’ll let you know.  Anything else?”  No more questions rose up from the massive group, people on every level of pay and power.  They shared silent nods and worried glances as my father dismissed us.  “He should be here close to noon, so let’s be ready!”  The crew disbanded, but my father glanced at me.  “Oh, Dana, would you mind?”  I knew he wanted me to stay behind for a private chat, and I had a good idea what he wanted to talk about.

Once we were alone, my father poured us each a cup of coffee.  It was still hot and flavorful, an island blend with traces of almond and cocoanut.  He sighed and took a sip, taking a moment of quiet to enjoy it.

I said, “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn, Daddy.  That was thoughtless, stupid. It’s just … such an odd thing, y’know?”

“I do, honey, and it’s okay, I”m not upset with you.  You’re my everything, my pride and joy, the best thing I ever did or ever will do.  You’d have to do a lot worse than that to upset me, Dana.”  He gave me a little kiss of the forehead, the smell of the coffee heavy on his breath, a smell both familiar and cozy.  “No, what’s bothering me is the conversation we had before the meeting, with that record company executive.”

“Producer, I think.  Anyway, Daddy, I told him I’m not ready — ”

“I know you did, sweetheart, but … maybe he’s right.  Maybe you are ready.”

“No, Daddy, no, I’m only twenty-one.  I can’t even drink in a lot of states, not that I want to.  But you know what I mean.”

“Dana, you’re a singer, you could be a star.  Youth is a big part of that.  At twenty-one, you’re certainly not too young.  You may be too old by this time!”  We shared a chuckle, but it didn’t last.  “And you are ready, we both know that.”

“But I’m happy here,” I said, “I like living on the ship, singing with the band, being here with you.”

He smiled, but I knew it was bittersweet as he nodded, staring into a some sad distance as he often did. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, Dana, and I couldn’t be happier having you on the ship here with me.  You’re the only family I have, you know that.  But that’s what worries me, that you feel like you have to stay here just to babysit me, keep the old man happy.”

“Daddy, you’re not that old!”

“But neither one of us are getting any younger, are we?”  He stepped away, leaving me to take in my own reflection in the well-polished glass window.  Neither one of us could go on ignoring the changes that had happened over the previous years.  My blonde hair and a natural shimmer, my complexion was smooth and clean, not blotchy, no blemishes.  My blue eyes were clear and round, my neck every bit as long and inviting as Caroline’s.  But my body was a bit leaner than Caroline’s, my hips had more of a feline sway, my champagne breasts hiding behind my sweet summer dresses.  And ther was more hiding behind my sweet and pretty facade than just my breasts.  My body was seething with sexual hunger, positively crackling with it.  I was a twenty-one-year-old woman living in my father’s shadow, and living up to my responsibilities.  I couldn’t bare to have my father forced to stand by and watch as I became some shipboard trollop, passed around from guy to guy.  That’s not the girl he raised, and it’s not the woman I ever wanted to be.  But I did have wants, desires, and I wanted so badly.  I wanted so much to feel a man’s arms around me, strong hands caressing my breasts, nipples hard under his fingertips, huge member pushing into me, slow and sure.   I couldn’t stop imagining myself getting railed against the cabin wall or against the rails of the deck, overlooking the ocean and not caring who was watching or what they thought of it.   I had to wrap my body around someone big and hot and hard.  I couldn’t get it out of my head, not to mention other parts of my body.  It was harder and harder to deny or to disguise these feelings, and my father and I both knew that, eventually, something was gonna have to give.  Standing with my father to greet our guests wasn’t the place or the time, of course.  But I did more than just greet passengers.  More and more I felt like a chanteuse on stage, in shimmering, body--hugging gowns in the grand ball room clinging to my curves, smooth and womanly.  Nothing was hiding, but I was still the captain’s daughter and I wasn’t about to take the stage looking like some hooker.  Nothing was hiding, but little was revealed; just enough thigh to suggest that sweet treasure above, just enough view of the side breast to lock in the boys’ attention.  I knew what I was doing, I couldn’t deny it.  I was learning to play them the way Caroline did, little by little.  Maybe we have more in common that I thought.