Below Deck

“Stay the fuck away from Mackenzie. She’s off limits,” I growl, the words coming out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Ben and Zoe both stare at me with equal looks of shock on their face for a few seconds before Ben tosses his head back and howls with laughter.

“Holy shit, you already broke your own cardinal rule and have a crush on one of the guests!” he exclaims through his laughs. “And only a few hours after you met the chick. That’s got to be some kind of a record.”

His full-blown laughter dies down to a few chuckles when I glare at him, and Zoe covers her mouth with her hand to hide her own amused smile.

“I don’t have a crush on Mackenzie, get your head out of your ass.”

The lie flies right off my tongue as visions of Mackenzie’s tits and ass and long smooth legs float through my mind, and I start wondering what all that long thick hair would feel like brushing against my thighs while she wrapped those full pink lips around my cock.

“She’s off limits because she’s a guest. Period,” I add, shifting my feet and stealthily rearranging the painful hard-on in my shorts behind the cover of the back wall of the Jacuzzi.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t sign any contract when I started working on this ship that guests were off limits, and neither did you. There’s no rule that says we can’t have a little fun to break up the monotony of being a slave to the rich and famous,” Ben informs me.

While we didn’t sign any damn contracts, it’s still an unwritten rule in yachting. One that if broken, could result in serious consequences. Ben might not care about getting mixed up with a guest and, when things go sour, she complains to the captain and he loses his job, but I do. I can’t lose this job. Even though we make shit money on an hourly basis, the tips we get at the end of a charter more than make up for that as long as the guests aren’t total douchebags and give us the standard ten to twenty percent of the charter fee. With this charter, especially, one of the longest and most expensive ones we have booked for the season, costing Mark Armstrong $200,000, that can equal a tip up to twenty grand. With me and my two deckhands, Ashley and her two stews splitting that baby equally six ways means we each take home around $3,300 cash under the table. For ten days of work.

I won’t do anything to jeopardize that tip, this job, or my plans for the future. I need to keep racking up the yachting hours so I can sit for my captain’s exam. I need the money to send home to my baby sister, and I need to save everything that’s left over so I can captain my own boat one day. A pair of tits and a great ass, no matter how spectacular they are, will not distract me.

I open my mouth to remind Ben of all of this, when he pushes off the railing, comes around to the back of the Jacuzzi and smacks his hand down on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I won’t poach your territory. Mackenzie isn’t really my type anyway,” Ben tells me with a wink. “She’s hot and all, but I’ve got my sights set on that Brooke chick. I saw her staring down the blonde bitches when they got shitty with your girl. She got a crazy look in her eyes, like she could reach across the table and stab them and not lose any sleep over it. You know I’ve got a thing for the crazy ones.”

Ben gives me another pat on the shoulder before sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Although, if you want to make any headway with your girl, you’re going to have to do a little more than grunt and snarl and stare at her tits all the time like you did when you were introduced to her. I’d suggest talking. I’ve heard the ladies like a good chat every now and again.”

With that, he turns and walks away, whistling as he goes.

“SHE’S NOT MY GIRL!” I shout back lamely, unable to come up with any other kind of comeback.

Zoe laughs, and I aim my irritation with this entire situation at her.

“Anything you’d like to add?” I fire at her.

She shakes her head, fighting hard to hide the smile on her face.

“Nope,” Zoe replies, popping the “p” at the end.

There are a few minutes of comfortable silence between us as we both look out over the railing at the setting sun as we make our way to St. John. Right when I start to relax and forget about the stupid shit that came out of Ben’s mouth, Zoe changes her mind about having anything to add.

“My break’s over, so I better get back inside and start getting everything ready for dinner,” she says, moving around the tub and towards the sliding glass doors that lead into the formal dining room. “But if you decide to stop grunting and staring at Mackenzie’s tits anytime soon, I can help you come up with some excellent conversation starters. I’m pretty good at chatting up the ladies and getting in their pants.”

Without turning around, I lift my arm in the air and give her the finger, her laughter fading with the slide of the doors as she goes inside.

I drop my arm back down to my side and stare into the Jacuzzi as it fills. As soon as I’m finished with this, I have to head around to the main deck aft where the outside dining table is set up for guests to eat when we don’t have high winds or bad weather, to help the stews with bartending duties while they’re busy serving dinner.

I do everything I can to clear my mind of perfect tits, a great ass and hair brushing against my thighs while I shut off the water, wind up the hose and stick it back into the small storage closet. Having a fucking hard-on in front of the guests is probably frowned upon.

I just need to get my head back in the game, focus on doing my job and forget about everything else. I’ve done it a thousand times before and I’m not going to let Mackenzie Armstrong fuck with my head or my dick, no matter how nice and different she’s pretending to be. She’ll show her true colors, it’s only a matter of time. I can keep my dick in check until then, no problem.