Kenny continues:

Sherry woke bushy-eyed and bright-tailed. Both the large and small radium dipped hands of her old-fashioned, wind-up alarm clock pointed at two. Given the time, it was obviously still dark, and the only light in the stateroom came from around the partially closed door of the bathroom.

She turned her head and looked into the content sleeping face of Stewart, the Steward. Sherry fought the urge to nudge him awake; he had worked hard and needed the rest.

Her fingers worked the secret release of the handcuffs. It gave with a soft click. Rolling around onto her back, she maneuvered herself into a sitting position on the side of the bed.

Sherry stretched a kink from her left arm and massaged another in her neck, before heading to the bathroom for a quick squat and wipe. That chore completed, she faced herself in the mirror.

Dried cum must be sexier in a sex story, Sherry decided, than it really is.

The faucet provided a glass of water. She drank in a gulp. Sherry poured herself another that she sipped at the water in a more civilized and less desperate manner. When she finished, the gag went back in her mouth, and she went back into the stateroom.

A quick check in fridge found Tiffany cheering in her sleep ("fuck the bitch, fuck the bitch, raw, raw, raw"). Sherry's head shook with a silent laugh as she let the door shut softly into place.

The cuffs went back in place binding her wrists. With her arms pinned her behind her back, Sherry slipped onto her half of the bed and skootched back against Stewart. The two lovers sugared into the classic spoon position.

Throughout Sherry's trip to the bathroom, he slept, but Stewart's cock woke up at the touch of Sherry's ass. Sherry wiggled back into it. With a happy purr, she fell back to sleep.

She woke again with the early light coming in the port-hole window, feeling both less bushy-eyed and bright-tailed.

Stewart was also up. He lay behind her fighting with the key to the cuff. Eventually, the struggle ended in his favor and both bracelets popped loose. Sherry left her arms at her sides while Stewart loosened the buckle of the ball gag.

Once the buckle was undone, the gag fell onto the bed. Sherry worked her jaw and than turned to Stewart. She gave him a full kiss on the lips.

"Amateur," Sherry accused with a laugh. "It took you long enough with those cuffs."

"Do you want another spanking, wench?"

"No, you don't, Stewart. I'm a free woman again, not a wench anymore. So, don't go playing dom on me or..." Sherry rolled over and kissed Stewart on the cheek, "I'll have to show you what the real thing is like."

"Brat."

Sherry grabbed Stewart and gave him another kiss. "Last night was great. You may be an amateur, but you have a natural talent. A little time under the lash with a know-it-all dom like me and you'll be perfect."

"Hey, I told you that I'm not into that."

"You were last night."

"That was different..."

"Yeah, you weren't the one getting spanked. You're silly." Sherry laughed. She turned her head and looked at the clock. "I know it's still early but don't you need to get to work?"

Stewart looked over Sherry's body at the alarm clock. "Yeah, I got to be shaved, showered, and in a clean uniform in about thirty minutes or Harvey will have my ass."

"Get out of here and get ready then because I don't like sharing and your ass belongs to me. Unless you want to use my shower?"

"No. Thanks for the offer but all my stuff is in my locker," Stewart said as he sat so he could retrieve his pants from the floor. "Will I see you later?"

"Of course," said Sherry. She watched him throw on his clothes. "It's a small ship, and I doubt you could find many places to hide from me. I plan to take you out for a drink when we get into port, so don't try hiding on me, either."

Stewart finished dressing and arranged his appearance so to be presentable. Sherry popped out of bed. She stretched her body, standing tiptoed with her arms high in the air. Her chest was thrust out at Stewart. His eyes drifted to them.

Sherry smiled when they did not drift away.

She put on a short silk kimono that she kept draped over a chair. Without tying the sash, she went to Stewart and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace with a bear hug. They kissed.

Their good-byes were said without a word, Stewart left. Sherry took Tiffany from the fridge. The cheerleader showered to warm up and clean away Yotna's cellar stench. While she waited for the girl to finish, Sherry hummed a little Aerosmith and worked her long, blonde hair into a waist long braid. By the time Tiffany stepped out of the bathroom, Sherry had her hair done up.

"Into the chair."

With a submissive nod, Tiffany sat down. Still humming to herself, Sherry rummaged around her luggage, pulling out a color-coded selection of ropes and a clean ball gag. She let the girl babble as she was tied up. The pose was classic; Tiffany's wrists were bound together behind her back, and her ankles individually attached to opposite chair legs. The girl's slim legs were spread enough that her red cheerleader panties could be clearly seen. Sherry adjusted the chair so whoever came in to clean the room would get a good look first thing on walking through the door.

Sherry scrubbed away a night's rough sex, being careful to leave her braid dry. Awareness of the general courtesy of water usage aboard ship forced her from the shower before her muscles loosened up, but they were nowhere near as bad as they had been when she left bed. She brushed her teeth and as usual skipped make-up, preferring to let the natural prettiness of her face stand-alone. She grabbed a pair of tight jeans, classic cut rather than slutty hip huggers. Cowboy boots and her "What's All This Then" tee shirt from the police raffle completed the look.

"Be a good girl, Tiffany," Sherry told her. She punctuated what she said with a kiss on the forehead. "I've got things to see and people to do, but I'll be back this afternoon."

Not bothering to lock the door, Sherry stepped out on the deck and headed to meet suzee and me for breakfast.

KEN 6-1

Yotna continues:

I woke with a start, a little confused, about a lot. One, where was I? Two, where was Nat? The stateroom was familiar territory; the body next to me seemed familiar. I reached out and cupped my bed partner's breast, now that hard, plump nipple was unmistakeable. "Morning love, how are you?"

"Less than happy with you, I know we are on holiday. But I had imagined I would have a little more time, and erm - exclusivity with you..." Esu complained softly.

"Ah, yes I may have been a little — inattentive?" I sigh.

"Only of me, you have been giving something your undivided attention."

"Well, you know me I get caught up in things. I will take the captaincy a bit less seriously."

"I was thinking of the ice-cold cheerleaders, rather than your duties." Esu smiled.

"Ice cold cheer... No, it wasn't really my fault. See Spike Milligan had this idea, and well it just intrigued me. Sort of." I fibbed.

"So you aren't using Spike Milligan as an excuse for your liking of teenage girl's?"

"But, but you see they remind me of you." I spoke truthfully.

"Yot's I'm no teenager, not anymore."

"No, but you were when we first met, a tender fifteen year old. I'm just an old sentimentalist at heart."

Esu thought for a while. When she answered her voice was softer still.

"Do you mean that?"

"I do, love I have never met a woman to compare to you. I love you as you are — and as you were. It may be naughty but I can't resist the tactile journey back to 1973..."

"I didn't used to do this then." She whispered, and ducked under the covers. Seconds later her teeth nipped the flesh at the top of my thigh. I jumped, as she knew I would - her mouth had moved rapidly and my limp shhaft collided with her active tongue. My flesh reacted to her touch as it always had and forever would -it hardened and pointed it single sightless eye towards my navel. Esu gobbled me to full erection, and then straddled me.

I gasped as her small body hungrily swallowed my entire length. She bucked against me, and reaching out with her arms stiffened she grasped my tight nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. The twist when it came was as unwelcome as it was unexpected, I was in agony. Esu grinned and pounded her wetness over me in violent spasms. "Now I have your full attention," she spoke in gasps, "I want you to remember just who the lady in your life is." I winced at the discomfort of my turgid stalk being alternately straightened and bent.

"Could you be a bit careful, love? You are being a bit rough on the old man." I puffed.

Her vice-like grip on my nipples tightened impossibly, it felt as if she intended to tear them from my tortured chest.

"Do, do, do you understand who owns you? Bod, bod, body and soul?" She gasped.

"Yes love you do — body and soul. You always have!" I cried in pained pleasure.

"Good, good — Oh my, good god!" Esu's voice cracked with orgasm.

Her ejaculation was long and lustily, I wondered for an instant if she had peed on me. But, no the strong pulses were timed with her contracting velvet insides. I felt my cock burst, it exploded, shooting semen deep into my beloved wife. I howled my lust loudly, until Esu's small hand clamped my mouth shut. My breath blasted through her damp digits.

"Shh, others may be sleeping..." She scolded.

Experimentally she released her cupped hand from my trembling lips. "Oh, Jesus H Christ!" I cried. The hand quickly resumed its retentive duties.

By the time I came back to my senses Esu was dressed and ready to start her day. She cocked her head and spoke. "So what have you got to remember Yottie?"

"That you own me, body and soul?" I recited.

"Good, I'll see you later then. Be good." She whispered, before blowing a kiss towards me and flitting through the door.

I lay still for a while, looking at the bruises forming around my misused nipples. Well, I suppose you are never too old to learn — I thought in silent wonder.

YOT 6-1

Kenny continues:

I was staring at the bottom of my coffee cup wondering if someone was ever going to bring me more or whether I just needed to get off my own slightly sore ass and do it myself. To my chagrin, events seemed to be suggesting the latter, as the last three stewards had walked by the table with neither a glance in my direction nor a coffeepot in hand. Life was becoming more self-serve than I liked, but what could one do.

Other than serve one's self, of course.

I finally gave in and crossed to the vacuum bottles holding a selection of the world's best coffees. I filled my cup with some Jamaican Blue Mountain (the one coffee that I've encountered that honestly tastes like coffee smells) and returned to the table just as a steward walked by with a pot of coffee. suzee called him over and we ordered breakfast.

Sherry, with her usual perfect timing and her usual smirk, walked in just as the steward left to put our order in. The steward took her request for a light breakfast. He immediately poured her a cup of coffee before rushing to the kitchen. She took her first sip of coffee as she scanned the others in the room.

"So did you have a good night last night," suzee asked Sherry while I pondered the blackness of my coffee.

"You mean, Kenny didn't tell you?"

"You do have privacy," I muttered.

"I'm a fictional character," answered Sherry. "So of course, I don't have privacy."

"Sherry, you do to have privacy." I made no effort to hide the testiness in my voice. "And I try to respect it."

"Do you or do you not ever remember using the phrase 'quick squat and wipe' earlier in this chapter?" I blushed. She looked at suzee and shrugged. "You see, no privacy even for the most private of bodily functions. Though, I will grant that you didn't go into embarrassing detail about it, even if some of the perverts reading this would have liked that."

"Yeah, but how was your evening?" suzee said trying to get back to her original question.

Sherry took a sip of coffee before answering, "Not too bad. Stewart seems to be acceptable in the sack. And of course, Tiffany knows her way around a pussy because she's a cheerleader. But I wonder about her; she's too submissive to be a cheerleader at Judge Parker."

"She's a transfer student." I mutter again.

"That explains it. She wouldn't have lasted a moment with the girls over at Gil Thrope," Sherry said. After a sip, she continued, "How's that story going, anyway."

"Which one?"

"The one about the cheerleaders and the chess club."

I pointed at the theme book that I was using for the story. "It's right there, still stuck on part eight. Though, I think I might split it up."

Sherry chuckled.

"What," I asked, slightly hurt.

"That's one way to make it look like you're making progress: split chapters up. 'Gee, look I'm on chapter nine now.'"

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered just as the steward came out with our breakfasts. "Writing sucks."

I dug into my steak and eggs. suzee and Sherry discussed girl things. In short I wasn't paying attention, I was alternating between writing the other story in my head and pouting because I couldn't come up the words to get me through a simple bondage scene. Mind you, I couldn't work my way through this simple breakfast scene.

"Someone is watching you, Kenny." I break out of my funk and look at Sherry who was discreetly pointing with her spoon. "Seems someone likes you."

I turned following Sherry's outstretched spoon. It pointed at Foxy who was giving an order to a steward. I looked away when Sherry hissed at me, "Christ Gamera, don't be so obvious about it."

"This ain't high school."

"Like fuckin' hell it ain't," Sherry answered back with a chuckle. "Maybe you're all a bunch of porn writing hooligans, but you're all behaving like a bunch of over sexed school kids."

"Not all of us," said suzee.

I looked at suzee. She was staring at me. I'd been neglecting her again. I reached over and took her hand.

"Let's go some place and take care of that dear."

KEN 5-2

Foxy continues:

I woke up early that morning and decided to take my work-out later. I fancied some fresh fruit salad and wondered if they were serving breakfast yet. I pulled a robe on over my bikini, as I was planning to sun-bathe after my work-out and I didn't want the hassle of having to come back to my cabin to change.

As I entered the dining room, I looked around for the other guests. Kenny, suzee and Officer Sherry were already seated at one of the tables. Rather than disturb them, I sat down at one of the tables behind the party.

At this angle, I could observe Kenny without him even seeing me. I didn't really know him very well yet but I was determined that would change. After all, I had come on this cruise determined to enjoy myself and seek out new adventures, and I'd certainly enjoyed it so far.

My thoughts returned to Kenny. I wondered if he had noticed me yet. After all, we had been together for days now and still had not really spoken together. How was I going to get him alone? I wasn't going to write a note, I saw the chaos that Yotna had caused the other night by trying to send one to Esu. No, my way would have to be a lot more subtle.

I was interrupted by the steward enquiring what I wanted for breakfast. To my relief, he confirmed that fresh fruit was on the menu and asked if I wanted Yoghurt with it. This I declined, I didn't want anything to mask the juiciness of the fruit.

At that moment, Kenny and his party rose from the table. Damn, I thought to myself, I've missed my chance again.

FOX 6-1

Franz continues:

Katka and Sandra both had different plans. I didn't enquire if other, ahem ... persons were involved or if they only wanted to take a longer nap), so I went up to the bridge on my own. Yotna had invited the passengers to drop by for a visit, so he or rather the first officer could show and explain how all the navigation equipment worked.

Though my home was hundreds of kilometres away from the coast, I had been fascinated by the sea and sailing across the oceans since childhood. I remembered a lot of movies about pirates, but the main influences on my mind were an English TV series called 'The Onedin Line' back in the 1970's and the famous Gregory Peck movie 'Captain Horatio Hornblower R.N.' which was the screenplay of a book and part of a great series by C.S. Forrester. I had read them all in my mid-teen years.

From the lecture of the daily press I also knew that pirates weren't a threat only from the past but also the modern Christian marine ships had to deal with them.

Pirates were a danger for the freight ships in the waters around the Horn of Africa and in the Strait of Malacca, which was quite far away, but the seizing and capturing (and disappearing!) of smaller private ships, were also reported from the Caribbean Sea.

The first officer showed me all the instruments including the latest gimmicks like GPS.

"So you won't need any sextants anymore?" I asked him.

"Fuck GPS!" he barked, "that's for the amusement of rich playboys, but not for use of real seamen!"

I was also part of the generation who had learned using analogue techniques (or sometimes, no techniques at all!). I had learnt to use a (mechanical!) typewriter in school using all of my ten fingers. Nowadays typing wasn't part of education anymore because some authorities decided that typewriters weren't used anymore. Fuck them!

Did they believe that modern computers were delivered without keyboards? The last time I looked even Bill Gates hasn't provided the world with a computer without a keyboard with a QWERTZ layout (or whatever were the first five letters from the left in the first row of keys below the numbers in your part of the world).

"What don't you like about the GPS?" I asked.

"Firstly", he said, "It's a system which can be switched off by the decision of a certain government."

I nodded.

"As long as I have a watch and a sextant I can determine my position for myself and am not dependant on what the guy in the White House is deciding. Mind you, the sky must be clear of cloud." He chuckled.

There was no reason to disagree.

Anyway, the ship was equipped with GPS but the First Officer was proud to show me his navigating skills.

Since the sun had already been shining for some hours, the sextant was more or less useless. I asked him how he managed to navigate through the day.

"See, we know the exact time. Using a chronometer and looking out for the sun, we can calculate the position of the 'Fantasy' and where she is now."

"And the height of the sun over the horizon at noon tells you the distance from the equator," I answered.

I had served in the German Luftwaffe two decades ago (in a radar station), so I was familiar with maps and when we did a test I realised that the First Officer's navigation and the GPS (as announced by the Maat) were in perfect agreement about our actual position.

He then admitted, that the GPS was more convenient and faster to use but still the old know-how was taught at the Naval Academy.

Though it wasn't expected in this part of the Atlantic I had to ask him how the 'Fantasy' would defend herself against corsairs.

"What about pirates?"

He smiled.

"We have a sonic weapon, that's a long range acoustic device."

"A what?"

"It is a kind of instrument which 'shoots' noise on anyone who is assaulting on us," he explained.

Then I remembered that I had read some days before our departure that the German cruiser 'The Seabourn Spirit' had been attacked near to the Somalian coast. It had been equipped with such a weapon and the ship escaped even though it was under machine gun fire.

Its method hadn't been revealed in the article but the FO explained to me how it all worked.

When I left the bridge, I was sure that Katka wouldn't meet the Red Corsair on this trip.

For a brief insincere moment, I imagined her disappointment and chuckled to myself. Then I remembered the Summer 2003 Pirate Story Challenge which I had organised. I'd liked one story I'd found at Google while I was doing some research in preparation for the event, but I was unable to find any further parts. I had proposed to write a continuation, but none of the other contributors did so.

I went to the stern of the 'Fantasy' and sat down on my favourite bench for some sun-bathing. It wasn't long before I fell asleep...

FK 6-1

Foxy continues:

'Damn, I couldn't concentrate on my work-out today. My mind was just full of one guy and how I was going to get him to notice me. Time to think of an idea or two.'

FOX 6-2

Those Were the Days
by: A Name

A trio of sea gulls settle into the ocean breeze above the rear deck of the ship. They bob and weave in the invisible currents, jockeying for best position. All eyes, serious and determined, scan the deck for anything edible. One and then another feint this way or that testing the other's determination and mettle. The third stoically looks on, riding high on the smoother breeze, conserving energy.

To less critical eyes the deck looks clean — barren testimony to the fastidiousness of the ship's crew.

The first dives to the deck and with a quick bounce and jab of its' beak is again airborne with his prize. The second bird follows closely yet stumbles as conflicting urges clash in its tiny brain. Check the spot for more spoils or pursue a course of thuggery.

The first settles back into the breeze eyeing its neighbors warily and is greeted with an unusual lack of interest. After a moment of consideration it becomes consensus: The prize isn't — And into the foamy wake falls one used condom.

AD 6-1

Franz continues:

In the darkness below the deck she lay in a pile of straw between the rough wooden crates. She had been the only woman on board the ship when the pirates had taken it over, and they had placed her here while their captain decided what to do with her. She was just 19 years old last spring and knew instinctively that whatever fate was to befall her would not be an easy one. Even though her virgin mind lacked knowledge of the real world or of the dark hearts of men, she had no real idea of what captured by pirates meant for a beautiful young girl.

She wasn't aware of how many hours went by while she was alone. Her senses were distracted by the noises the wooden ship made as it cut its way through the waves of the Caribbean Sea. She also heard whistling and scratching noises and didn't want to imagine which kind of animal was sharing the darkness with her.

Katka was a young Russian girl who was on her way to Louisiana. As the youngest daughter of a Russian Duke she had been promised to a rich plantation owner in the South, damned to be married against her own will. The planter literally bought her from her father who sold her to pay his debts.

Suddenly she heard someone approaching. The person didn't speak to her and the only reason she knew she wasn't alone was the breathing she heard and felt on her skin.

Katka shuddered when the hands grabbed her body; she knew she was naked from her waist upwards. The pirates had ripped away most of her clothing when they had captured her, just before she fell into a state of unconsciousness. She had no real clue as to what had happened to the crew of the HMS Honesty but it seemed that no other passenger was sharing her fate.

The hands rubbed Katka's breasts and squeezed her nipples causing feelings that she never known before. Sex was something that she had only heard the servants talk about, something that she had never experienced herself.

She couldn't defend herself because her hands were bound together behind her back, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to anyway. As she lay in the dark, she had considered and finally concluded, that giving in to her fate was the best possible option she had. She hoped that the captain was not a rude one-eyed renegade but a gentleman.

The unknown person also ripped away the remainder of Katka's dress, she was now totally exposed, but somehow she didn't feel ashamed. Her emotions driven partly by arousal and also fear of the unknown.

She felt kisses on her skin, wandering from her neck down to her breasts and then further. She wondered why the scent of the kisser wasn't that of a mean pirate or even a sea-man. Had she already met the captain? The touches were gentle and she felt heat waves going through her body. Would she lose her virginity here, in the dark bottom of a pirate vessel?

The kisses wandered to her most intimate parts and the tongue of the pirate or whoever licked her clitoris. Of course, Katka had never touched herself before, but she definitely liked the feelings and sensations caused by the tongue. After a while the heat waves increased but then she started to wonder what would happen. Would the pirate rape her here and now?

Suddenly the tongue stopped licking her and the kisses resumed, wandering along her body, caressing her breasts. The tongue licked her nipples which went hard. Katka feat the urge to touch herself, but she was still restrained and helpless. The unknown mouth continued on its way. She was kissed everywhere on her body. Eventually the pirate kissed her mouth.

Katka wondered why the lips of the pirate weren't dry and hard but soft. She also realised that the unknown person wasn't a man since she felt breasts pressing on to her body.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I am Sandra, the daughter of Captain Morgan," was the reply, "He is ruling this pirate vessel. I've got you as my birthday present, slave!"

I awoke at this moment. After a few seconds I realised that Katka and Sandra were kissing me.

I smiled at them and said, "Do you want to hear a story?"

After I had told my little pirate story to Katka and Sandra they both insisted that it was a good story and that I should write it down.

I was reluctant to do this, at least at that moment in time and told them that I didn't want to leave them alone. They both smiled and Katka said, "Never mind, you have made us so horny that the pirate Sandra will have to put me in the coal bunker and make me her personal slave for a while."

I shook my head in disbelief when they walked away. Then I asked a steward to set up a laptop for me and began to write.

FK 6-2

Foxy continues:

After leaving the gym, I went for a quick session in the Jacuzzi to cool down. The bubbles stimulated my senses even further. Time to get out or I'd be having my own erotic experience in here.

I relaxed in the deck-chair near the edge of the decking and started to put my plan into action. I summoned up my skills which I hadn't needed for days now and slowly started to hum. The tune gradually became more familiar as I added the words.

'When will I see you again? When will we share precious moments? Will I have to wait forever? Or will I have to suffer and cry the whole night through?

When will I see you again? When will our hearts beat together? Are we in love or just friends? Is this my beginning or is this the end? When will I see you again? When will I see you again? When will I see you again?'

I shut my eyes and visualised him standing in front of me.

FOX 6-3

Franz continues:

denny had been hanging around on the fore deck for the last two hours. He had been editing for some more or less prominent writers using his lap-top. By using his USB device he was able to get on-line. The sun was shining on his body and he made sure to load as much energy as possible provided by the sun to enable him to get through the dark and cold winter he would spend at home once the journey had ended. denny typed one handed — an ability each editor of sex stories has learnt in countless hours of training — because with his other hand he was holding ... a pina colada.

He was editing a 'Girl Scout Nookie' story by a writer whose first language wasn't English, so he sighed more than once because of the ratio of spelling mistakes within three lines besides the messing up of present perfect and past tense grammar. At least this writer knew about the Oxford comma though.

During the last hour the entry to one of the fore deck cabins had aroused his interest and he was watching with interest the amount of people traffic which were frequenting this doorway. Again his eyes followed a passenger down who disappeared through that door. All his fellows had staterooms at the back of the cruiser and he wasn't aware of any that occupied the said fore-cabin.

He stood up and went towards the entrance of the stairs, leaving behind his lap-top and the pink Financial Times.

When he went down the stairs his eyes had to accommodate to the darkness, since inside the light wasn't as bright as outside in the subtropical autumn sun.

At the next deck below no one person was visible. He turned to the right and saw a sign on the door to fore-cabin C6, stating 'May Ling's Massage Saloon' and in a smaller font size 'Bookings through the Fantasy Intra-Website'.

He looked around but could not see any other cabin's being used. (The readers, of course, with their wider horizons and additional information are aware that Elna had earned the privilege to use a fore-cabin on the starboard side and the fore-cabins P1 and S1 were crowded by four more cheerleaders. Yotna had put them in store for future events.)

denny hurried back to his lap-top (the FT had disappeared but denny didn't even wonder if it had been blown away by the breeze) and browsed the ship's website. He was so excited that he accidentally deleted the text he had been editing. Oh yes, he needed a massage. His neck had been stiff for a couple of days now and his back was aching. He needed one so bad.

FK 6-3

Esu continues:

I was thinking about the conversation earlier that day with Yot's. He had promised to be more attentive towards me. I didn't believe it though because I'd heard it so many times before. Mind you, he had seemed to like the dominant side of me. Perhaps it was one way to keep him in check. Actually, that idea appealed to me. For too long now I'd been behaving myself. Maybe it was time for a bit of fun as well. The firework display tonight would be an ideal time to slip away.

ESU 6-1

Franz continues:

Officer Sherry, the dirty cop, was sure that Yotna still had some cheerleaders in stock. She knew about crime for longer than she could remember and that was long enough.

This supposition had made her so excited. She was looking forward to catching Yotna just when he was committing a crime that her pussy had got all wet. Oh, even though she'd cultivated her image to not be a pussy, she still had one, including inner and outer labia and the clitoris. (She never considered having an intimate piercing because piercings, tattoos, and other markings are for subs and other people who were out of control — Sherry was in control.)

The encounter with Tiffany — now bound and gagged in Sherry's stateroom — didn't give much relief. She has used Tiffany's tongue for hours but when the poor cheerleader passed out with exhaustion, the urge for revealing yet another Yotna crime had become more exciting. Hot shivers ran through her body when she only thought about the arousal from the imagination. She saw it literally in her eyes (like Scrouge McDuck always had the Dollar characters in his eyes when he counted his money) — Yotna would be opening a fridge and just at the moment he would pull out an almost frozen cheerleader, she would jump up with her colt and shout, "Freeze! Police!" She chuckled when she realised the joke in her mind.

Sherry had observed Yotna earlier in the day when he unlocked a chamber on the port side of the 'Fantasy'. Because she had to hide behind some barrels she couldn't see exactly where this happened. She only knew that it was near the officer's mess.

She wandered slowly along the rail which lead from the front of the ship and reached the cabin which flanked the big paddle. She looked at the signs which denoted the specific rooms. When she looked at the second door she knew she was right. 'Icehouse,' it read.

She was still dripping wet but she put the thought aside. She was no harbour street whore. No masturbation now. Maybe she would visit June Ling later. She took some small tools and picked the lock (Officer Sherry wasn't a cop during her whole life; but as mentioned above, she knew about crime!) and then opened the door.

In the meantime in a small chamber on the cargo deck Shamila was bound to a bench in a similar position to Sandra's during the first night of the journey. The young British-Indian woman was stark naked, nipple clamps and a ball-gag were the only pieces of garment she wore. Steadily she was fucked by a sybian.

Shamila was in a good condition, since she worked out every day.

Yesterday in the gym she had been very attracted by the English woman from stateroom C4, Foxy (the reader surely remembers). Afterwards she had taken a shower and was preparing to visit her but when she arrived on that deck; she saw that Katka had just knocked on Foxy's door.

In her frustration Shamila had returned to her cabin on the fore ship and spent two hours with the glass dildo she had purchased on a previous trip in Amsterdam's red light district.

The sybian had already fucked her for a couple of hours and as the sensual being she was, she had already reached several orgasms. Shamila didn't mind the artificial character of the fucking device but somehow she missed the real meat feeling. She appreciated the nice tip but didn't understand why the guy with the Financial Times never wanted to penetrate her cunt but only ever wished to watch.

"Hello, hello, what is this all about then?" Sherry said half-loud to herself when she saw four six feet high snowmen. It was very weird, she thought, that somebody would bring snowmen on to a cruising trip, especially in October. But even more strange was the fact that the snowmen were dressed in football player's gear (not soccer, but American football player outfits!), though on some strategic points the snowmen were nude. (Editor's note: The author of this scene must be weird as well — how was he inspired to invent 'nude' American football player snowmen?)

Sherry wondered why the snowmen were each equipped with a glass dildo but then she realised that they weren't made from glass exactly but from ice.

The dirty cop suddenly felt cold, since the temperature in the icehouse was below minus twenty-five degrees Celsius she read on a digital instrument on the wall beside the door.

She decided to leave for the moment, but now she was prepared. Of course, one detail was still a mystery: Would the existence of four snowman-quarterbacks need some more cheerleaders? And where were they hidden, if not in this icehouse?

Before she closed the door, her sight fell on an old newspaper on the floor but Sherry didn't take any notice of it.

FK 6-4

Foxy continues:

Kenny came bounding along the deck looking for me. When he spotted me, he ran over and took me in his arms. He pulled me passionately towards him and gave me a long lingering soul-searching kiss. I responded passionately to this, seeking out his tongue with mine. Our hands travelled along each others flesh, his fingers sending electrifying tingles along mine.

I sighed with pleasure. This was something that I had been waiting for so long. My heart started to beat faster as he took my hand and laid me down on the decking.

My heart started to beat faster as he lay down beside me. His breathes were hot and rapid. That made me realise that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

I moaned with desire. At last I was finally getting together with him. After all, I'd been waiting for so long. Our bodies entwined. So hot with passion I could feel the wet, sticky heat.

"Oh, Kenny. That's it." I moaned.

I could feel him pounding into me, faster and faster. I started to moan louder as my climax got closer.

"Wow, arrggh."

I woke with a start. My skin was totally drenched. I opened my eyes and looked up to see suzee grinning at me.

"What were you dreaming of Foxy?"

My body was soaking wet from where she'd thrown a bucket of water over me. I tried to hide my embarrassment and just hoped that I hadn't spoken out loud.

FOX 6-4

Yotna continues:

I had this feeling in my bones that it was going to be an odd day. By now, dear reader, you will start to realise that many days are odd on the 'Fantasy'. But this one felt odder. Firstly I had been stimulated but surprised to be ravished by Esu's dominant hands. And now this, I stood on the aft-deck watching a sea gull chunder over the side of the ship. I was not even aware that sea gull's suffered from sea-sickness. 'Weirder and weirder, thought Alice' ran through my mind. Then denny ran past me.

"Sorry Yottie, can't stop for a chat," he paused to puff, "must finish the jog before my massage..." With that he trotted off.

It was quite unlike denny to be late for an important date. The world had gone mad! denny exercising, I mean I write fantasy... But there are limits — even to my imagination. Then I walked past a reclining Foxy, my eyes drinking in her form; she certainly filled her bikini in all the right places. Sanity at last! I was just going to speak to her, when something she murmured stopped me.

"Harder, deeper, that's it right there Kenny love..."

I whistled low and soft, un-huh how was suzee going to take to this one? Foxy smitten with Kenny, well why not? I wandered on wondering if I should lose some weight and grow a beard. Nah, it would never work, judging by the delicate strands of pure spun silver appearing in my hair — a beard would only age me, spoil my 'boyish' appeal. I was so glad I wasn't a vain person, that would have worried me, even more than this odd day.

Gilbert and Persimmon struggled past me carrying a large crate. Must be the fireworks, I thought. Then I chuckled, more fireworks from Esu, how appropriate. Persimmon, what an odd name for a seaman, what an odd seaman; why did he hold Gilbert's hand so often?

Then there were the typo's on his name badge. I mean as a writer you do see, even — god forbid — make the odd typo. But to leave them uncorrected, was unusual. It gave such an odd message, having first 'a' in seaman missing, and the second substituted with an 'e'. Still who was I to argue, I'm not an editor!

I made my way on to the bridge and my duties. At least today couldn't get more odd. Could it?

YOT 6-2

Franz continues:

Knowing Officer Sherry was an investigator made me think of my own dreams when I was growing up, as a boy I had always wanted to be a private eye in my adult years.

It was later that afternoon when I walked around on the deck that I saw two seamen, (I believe that they were the two who were gay,) pulling, pushing, and carrying a big wooden box which was secured with a lock. Actually, the lock was in place but it wasn't shut. That made me suspicious. It was the kind of box which are common on some ships, containing tools or tows. What wasn't common, at least not on this ship where everything always seemed to be in place at all times, was the improper use of the lock. After they put the box in the designated place, the seamen disappeared.

The box now stood unguarded on the fore ship in an area which wasn't usually accessible for normal passengers but this wasn't a normal cruise anyway. I jumped over the rail which divided the public from the non-public part of the deck.

I decided to peek into the box. Its length was about two yards and the width about two feet. A corpse might fit into it without any problem. Now I wasn't sure if Yotna decided to hide another cheerleader in this strange place but I would find out. (If he had, I could have some fun as well, couldn't I?)

I jumped behind the box and ducked down. I looked around to see if I had been seen but nothing moved and the deck remained silent. Carefully I removed the lock and lifted the cover of the box a few inches.

What I saw wasn't a cheerleader but several packages. Because I couldn't lift the top of the box too much because of the need to avoid discovery, the inside of the box remained dark. I thought about the contents of the packages which filled the box almost completely.

I took a lighter out of my jeans. (Though I was a non-smoker I had learned very fast that the need to light her cigarette made a nice female vulnerable for hooking-up attempts by lighter-possessing non-smokers!) What could be in those packages? Drugs? Hashish? Marijuana? But wasn't the normal smuggler's route in the opposite direction to our cruise?

I flicked on the lighter's flame and had a closer look. When I read the inscription on the packages, my blood drained from my body.

FK 6-5

Kenny continues:

I was sitting in the saloon, around three in the afternoon. The Steward on duty finally caught on to my special needs and my cup was never left half empty. Most of the time I never even noticed him as he sneaked over to warm my coffee.

Which was good, I finally began to put together a coherent string of words for 'Chess Club Sex Slaves' and was making grand progress towards putting together another coherent string of sentences together. The bondage scene for part eight (or maybe part nine, I wasn't sure where I was going to put the break yet) was flowing along nicely, I might even finish the story soon, though I had my doubts.

We will never know because of the interruption.

"Hi."

She held a coffee pot in one hand, but she did not wear a Steward's uniform. I recognized her as another one of the guests aboard the Fantasy. She poured more coffee into my cup and pushed it towards me. To be polite, I took a sip.

It was nasty; the coffee that was already in the cup cooled the coffee that was added to it almost instantly making it luke-warm. The fresh coffee was also not at all fresh, but had that slightly burnt taste that occurs when a pot has sat too long on a burner. I took another sip and smiled at her.

"Hi, I'm Kenny." I reached out my hand. She took it. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?"

I shrug and point at the journal, with my small, tight handwriting.

"Writing. Been better."

She looked at me with surprise.

"What do you mean? I thought we wrote because we liked it."

"It starts out that way, but it gets kind of like heroin. You just can't quit no matter how bad it gets. And it's pretty bad at the moment; I can see everything clearly but the words to show it."

"Oh," she said. She paused for a moment to give me a refill, then continued, "May be you should try something else for awhile. Just to distract yourself. That might help."

"I've been working on the same paragraph for a year. I've finished a half dozen stories and will probably start and finish a half dozen more, before I finish this one." I gulp some coffee. "I think it is beyond help."

"I didn't mean more writing." She filled my cup again. "I was thinking of maybe a little physical activity."

A steward entered the saloon, through the door from the kitchen. He carried a tray filled with pastries. I waved him over and snagged one. Before he left, I grabbed a second. I handed it to my guest at the table. She shook her head, so I dropped it next to the one I had taken for myself on a slightly disreputable paper napkin. I licked enough of the gooey icing off so it wouldn't stick to the handle of my cup. I took a long pull of coffee and turned back to my journal, picking up in the middle of the flogging.

"Ahem!" I looked back at my table guest. "I was wondering if a little physical activity might help you get on track with your writing."

I shrugged and answered that I didn't have a clue.

"Why? Are you suggesting that I might want to take a walk around the deck?" I thought about it while she added more coffee to my cup. "suzee has been on me to get more exercise, but right now I'm actually in a groove. But maybe when I get stuck again in a few minutes, I'll give it a try."

"No, I was thinking..."

"Want a Danish?" I offered the one that I had originally taken, but hadn't bitten yet. "They're good."

"Kenny, how much coffee have you had?"

I shrugged and called the steward over. He came over with a new pot of what smelled like fresh coffee, he poured me a completely fresh cup and turned to walk away. I grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry, but do you know how much coffee I've had?"

He looked at me with a look that I know well. I used to wait on tables and I've used that same look on customers. I used the voice he used too, but with a little less 'put-upon-us-ness' to it. There is such a thing as going overboard.

"About three pots since noon."

I turned back to my guest. She had a blank stare.

"About three pots since noon," I told her in a normal voice, not a put upon waiter voice. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing."

She got up and left.

KEN 6-3

Franz continues:

Not only did my blood stop flowing in my veins but I was also motionless and shocked. The inscriptions read 'Explosive. No open lights. No Smoking.' After a scary second or two I flicked off the flame and carefully pulled back my hand before closing the box lid. What was going to happen here? Had we been invited on this trip to disguise a terrorist assault? Did Esu and Yotna know about this threat? What could we do?

I thought for a minute or two about the situation. I was still cowered behind the box and as far as I was aware, no crew member had observed me or my investigation.

I waited for some moments, then I jumped up, jumped over the rail and ran towards a door which led towards the dining room.

I decided to consult on my revelation with Katka and Sandra. Nope, not with Katka. She was playing with fire all the time and who knows what silly ideas she would get. On the other hand she was an expert in playing with fire.

A minute later I arrived at our stateroom. I stormed in — and got the next shock.

Sandra was giving head to a woman I haven't seen before. That wasn't really that shocking because I had seen her giving head before. Also Katka taking photographs of the action with her high end digital camera wasn't an unseen event.

What really shocked me was the man with the FT in his hand...

FK 6-6

Esu continues:

He was a strange guest. I hadn't noticed him for a while but it appeared that he had boarded at Lisbon. I had seen him sitting around once too often with that high-brow newspaper of his. I decided that it was time to investigate and find out more about him.

I headed for the ship to shore phone and asked the operator for 'Canary Wharf, London'. Now what made me do that? Maybe it was my female intuition, but at least that call gave a few answers to a few questions that had been bugging me.

A voice on the other end answered, "Newsgroup International, how can I help you?"

"Financial Times please."

"Putting you through."

"Financial Times, Mary speaking, how can I help?"

"Hi Mary, Esu here from the 'Fantasy' steamship. I don't know if you remember me. We met a few weeks ago at that fund raiser for destitute writers. I told you about the cruise that I was organising."

"Hi Esu, how's it going? Are you having fun? Any interesting stories yet?"

I chuckled before replying, "It's certainly an experience. Mary I need your help, I have a guy on board who insists on reading your paper and leaving it in odd places. Have you any idea as to his identity?"

"Oh, errr, there's more than one guy that reads it. Could you describe him to me? Hair colour, short or tall, any distinguishing marks?"

"Well, he's quite stocky but short. Stumpy really. He's got dark greased back hair and often wears a 'bowler' with his blue pin-striped suit. I think he has brown eyes but I haven't really got close enough to notice the colour yet. Oh and yes, he carries an umbrella under his right arm."

"That sounds like Robert M. He once worked for us as a tea-boy. He did want to be a reporter but sadly his writing skills weren't up to our standard though, so he left. I think he works on the 'Daily Sport' now though but I couldn't be sure. I know he was with the 'Daily Star' at one time but he was couldn't make that standard either."

"Oh, so do you think he is here in a professional capacity?"

"Some of the tabloid papers are taking an interest in your cruise, so he could well be a reporter or a photographer but nothing has been published over here yet."

"Okay, thanks for your help."

I replaced the receiver and wondered what I should do.

ESU 6-2

Franz continues:

The next thing I did was take the bottle of Jameson, which I had opened the night before after we returned from the evacuation exercise, and took a big gulp.

'We have a problem. Big problem," I said.

"What?" Katka asked, still taking pictures. Sandra carried on licking the woman's pussy.

"We've terrorists onboard!" I shouted out. "We have to do something. Call the Coast Guard. Send an e-mail to the Pentagon. Speak with Bob Woodward."

Katka raised an eye-brow but Sandra still licked the woman's pussy.

"You know, there were these men, the gay seamen," I explained. "And they carried this big box. The box is full of explosives."

Katka took another picture at a different angle and Sandra carried on licking the woman's pussy. The women weren't impressed by my discovery and it seemed to me that they didn't share my fears either.

"You're a fool!" Katka said.

"What?" I asked. "Why?"

Now Sandra finally stopped licking the woman's pussy. She raised her head and turned towards me. "Hey you're the guy who is browsing the *Fantasy's* intranet all the time."

"And? What has this to do with terrorism?"

Sandra giggled before she answered. "Nothing. Tonight's evening entertainment is a big fireworks display. At 10 PM."

Then she resumed licking the woman's pussy.

Katka's eyes widened and I recognised _that_ gleaming. She was suddenly excited.

"Do you think they'll let me burn some of the fireworks?" she asked.

Abruptly Sandra turned and shouted, "No! Not with me alive!"

I gave her a surprised look, realising that I would discover a new detail from her past in a few moments time.

"Don't you remember the night of my 16th birthday?"

"Don't tell it! Don't you dare..."

"Tell me, Sandra," I interrupted. "What happened the night of March 25, 2002?"

"We did a little bondage play, actually nothing that weird. She had some candles and was torturing me with wax. She then accidentally burnt my hair and I had to cut it like a marine."

"It was your fault," Katka accused Sandra. "It was your idea. Besides you brought the joint. I was dizzy."

"Nope. The bottle of vodka was yours. You were totally drunk."

"You were drunk as well."

"That's true, but I didn't play with fire."

"Well, you allowed me to play with you!"

"I didn't. You talked me into that stupid event."

"Only because you were so fucking horny that you wanted to fuck the two stupid guys we met in the music club that night."

I began to wonder where I had been that night and came to the conclusion that I hadn't been one of those guys.

"I didn't want to fuck them. They wanted to fuck us." Sandra cocked her head towards me. "They were so fucking stupid that I never even wasted a second thinking about it."

"You're a liar," Katka said. "You said the next day that you wanted to get laid by them, then to spend the night with me."

"What did you expect, after what you'd done to my hair... Franz, don't believe her. Anyway the worst thing was the next day when I had to explain my new look to my mum as well as the smoke pattern on the wall."

At this point I couldn't hold off any longer and I burst out laughing. The stress from my 'investigation' was dissipating slowly and the topic of the last conversation had made me horny. Soon Katka, Sandra, and I were groping, fondling, and touching each other and we totally forgot that we weren't alone.

FK 6-7

Esu continues:

I was still dressing in my cabin when I heard a whoosh followed by a bang. I had to hurry as the firework display had already started. Quickly pulling on a light-weight jacket over my shoulders, I rushed out of the state-room and up onto the upper deck.

The fireworks were brilliant. The colours reflecting on the sea seemed to add that extra something as the ripples emphasised them. I looked around the deck. In the twilight I could just make out the expressions on the faces of the guests. They were enthralled. That made me smile, because they wouldn't even notice when I wouldn't be around later.

Those ripples seemed to be getting larger and stronger as the display continued. Perhaps it was my imagination though fuelled by the never ending supply of wine that I seemed to be drinking. Strong winds certainly hadn't been forecast that night. I knew Yot's would have told me if they had been.

I managed to find Laurent who was busy sorting out the chairs and tables on the port side. I whispered in his ear. At first I wasn't sure that he understood what I was saying but then he turned and beamed that fabulous smile of his at me. "Of course, enjoy yourself. If anyone asks, I can think of some excuse of why you aren't present." I gave him a quick hug before thanking him and rushed back to the display.

Suddenly a spectacular firework finale lit up the dark, black sky. The whooshes and bangs all adding to the sense of the occasion. The Fantasy seemed to lurch again but then all was quiet once more.

I crept away.

ESU 6-3

Franz continues:

The fireworks were superb. For a moment the German in me came to the surface. Too much discipline, too many things to keep in order! Was it allowed by the international marine to burn entertainment fireworks? Or did the shooting of specific coloured lights mean diverse cases of emergencies? I'd liked fireworks tremendously for the whole of my life and after the first rockets had been launched and the coloured lights were spreading all over the horizon, it seemed that I forgot about marine law. I grabbed Sandra and Katka (the latter was a bit reluctant like as she had made another plan). I lay my arms around their luscious bodies and started to play with their breasts.

While Katka's tits were rather small, Sandra's were round and heavy, but still firm. Not that it was an issue, since I was a leg-man anyway. The size and shape of tits didn't play a role for me. Oddly enough, a former girlfriend had broken up with me because of the Pamela Anderson poster I had pinned on the wall above my bed because she was so flat-chested, she couldn't "stand it anymore to be compared with those milk factories" — I had been only drinking black coffee since early high school.

There was a late evening dinner after the fireworks. It had been planned to take place in the pantry, which was used for several theme evenings, but then Esu after having a short discussion with Laurent and Elna, decided that this night was very warm and enjoyable so the dinner was prepared on the fore ship.

Some of the seamen were singing shanties and one of them played a somewhat strange music instrument.

During the dinner I saw Katka and Yotna sneaking away through the entrance to the fore cabins. I wanted to follow but Elna distracted me when as a result of one more intensive wave she lost her balance and fell into my lap.

Sandra threw a look towards me. I noticed a gleaming in her eyes which showed a flash of jealousy. I helped Elna up and she sped away to the galley. For the moment I forgot about Katka and when I remembered her, Yotna and Katka had already returned. I wondered where they had been since the fore cabins weren't used by passengers but were occupied by several of the ship's facilities. I knew that the ship's doctor had his office there and Elna had one of the starboard cabins. On the ships intranet website I had found out that even a massage saloon was functional. I made a mental note to tell denny about it who suffered aches in both his neck and back.

In Katka's eyes I also saw a gleaming. I knew that one, I knew it very well. In contrast to Sandra's her eyes expressed pure lust. What had she done to get so excited?

The bunch of us sat together until late after midnight. Sherry talked some of us into a poker game and thankfully suzee had insisted that we should only use the Monopoly money. I say thankfully because we lost most of it to Sherry. I began to doubt about the honesty of the game but eventually I yawned and my two girlfriends and I bade a good night to our fellows and went into our stateroom.

The two girls soon cuddled into me and I wasn't freezing that night.

FK 6-8

Katka continues
(as told by Franz):

Sandra and Franz had already fallen asleep when I was recapitulating the last hours. I had really enjoyed my second day on board. In the morning, Sandra and I had browsed the web and read some stories about bards and Rabelaisians. I found the reading interesting and decided to find out more.

Later on we met this stumpy guy with the dark greased back hair, who asked my friend if she was interested in some pussy-licking. At first we denied him this because he really was too odd with his newspaper in his hand but then he said that he wanted to watch Sandra with Shamila who was a crew member.

We agreed only after he brought Shamila along. I had never seen such a pretty woman and I also noticed that Sandra was attracted by her dark complexion. Soon Sandra and Shamila got naked and touched, kissed, and licked each other. I thought that it was weird that the man — his name was Robert he told us — read the FT while he watched the FT licking the British-Indian. But when Franz stormed in and told us about his discovery of terrorism I forgot these thoughts for a while.

Then Sandra and I got into some serious fondling and stroking with my boyfriend. Finally I took some pictures with my digital camera when my boyfriend shot his semen over Shamila's face. Since the memory of the camera was full, I transmitted the pictures onto a laptop and sent them via email to myself. Then I deleted the files from the computer and I made sure that they weren't recoverable. That seemed to be a good idea because just before the guy went away he asked if he could use the laptop for sending an email and he spent a suspiciously long time manipulating the documents folder. That was when my thoughts about the weirdness of the scene returned but life on this cruise seemed pretty weird in general.

After Franz and I had showered, we left so Sandra and Shamila could have some more fun on their own. My boyfriend showed me where he saw the box with the fireworks and then we went to have some drinks in the saloon. I sneaked away when Franz talked with Esu at the bar about private investigators and how perfectly Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, and the like found all the items and evidence. I headed directly to the box with the fireworks. I hoped that they haven't yet begun with the preparations and I was in luck. All were still untouched. I quickly selected a couple of packets which appeared promising and hurried away. I would have my own fireworks.

On my way back I saw Officer Sherry lurking around some cabins near the right paddle of the 'Fantasy'. She then entered a chamber and disappeared for a minute or two. I ducked down behind a bench and waited for the cop to reappear. She left without turning around and I decided to have a look into the chamber for myself.

I whistled through my teeth when I discovered four real snowmen. Only a very perverted brain could come up with the idea to put them in a football players gear and ... when I saw the ice dildo's I couldn't resist. I raised my miniskirt, stood on my tip-toes, and lowered myself on them. (It was a good thing that I didn't wear panties!) Gee! That was cold! I moved myself up and down for a dozen times or so before I left the cabin.

When I arrived back at the saloon, Franz and Esu were still talking. Franz was stating how stupid the cops were behaving all the time in the TV serials and Esu replied that Walker, Texas Ranger was totally unreal because even Chuck Norris jumped into a crowd of ten vice guys and the police squad arrived only after he'd eliminated all of them on his own.

"And Jack Bauer's daughter in 24 is so silly that Paris Hilton compared to her is like Albert Einstein compared with Pamela Anderson," I added and both of them agreed. I was sure they hadn't realised that I had been away for ten minutes.

Later when the fireworks were launched, Sandra and Franz were holding me so tight I couldn't launch the rockets I had ... ahem ... purchased. Never mind, I had found a good hiding-spot for the packets and it was only delayed not cancelled. That reminded me of Sonia, the Air Portugal flight attendant and her sister, I had enjoyed them so much, I went back to the cabin and wrote an email to them. I definitely wanted to see them again.

During the late dinner I talked with Yottie. I told him that Sherry had broken into the icehouse and Yotna's face became frozen in a New York second. (I've never experienced a New York second, but I guess it was very long if you had to fullfill a task and very short if you needed something from another person.)

"Can you handle a secret?"

I nodded. Women were known for their secrets, eh? Actually, all women were able to handle secrets. Maybe some better and some worse, but eventually most secrets get published in the 'Daily Sport'.

He took my hand and pulled me through a door. We almost flew down a stairway to the fore-cabins. Then we stood near the front hatch when he began to speak, almost whispering, so that nobody could overhear us. He also looked around to see if he saw anyone.

"You can't talk about this," he began, "Esu will kill me if she gets aware of this and Sherry ... will arrest me and at least deliver me to the Tribunal in The Hague. Behind these doors," — he pointed his index finger to the doors of the cabins S1 and C1 — "are four sleeping cheerleaders. It's Renee and Angela on the starboard and Gia with Erin in the port cabins."

"So it's true?"

"What?"

"The rumours about you being a cheerleader molester ... I heard something about Tiffany."

"Franz told you about this?" Yotna seemed even more concerned now.

"No. I overheard a discussion with Kenny and Sherry during breakfast."

Yotna was visibly relieved. "See," he continued, "Those four aren't anything to do with Tiffany. Tiff' was for daily use and she is from a different state. I engaged those cats for a special event — on Dildo."

"I saw their dildo's," I answered, smiling my most innocent smile.

"I see you understand this typical English humour — American cheerleaders riding snowmen quarterbacks and ice dildo's in Dildo, Newfoundland."

"But isn't Newfoundland part of Canada?" I asked.

"Yes. It's funny, isn't it?"

I didn't answer.

"We must return," Yotna resumed, "under no circumstances must anyone else discover this secret before we get to Newfoundland."

"But Sherry knows about the snowmen!" I insisted.

"But she doesn't know about the cheerleaders. She certainly will seek them but she must not find them." Yotna's voice indicated that he didn't have much faith in his own words.

"How you will manage that? We have nearly a week before we arrive there. We arrive in Madeira tomorrow and leave Funchal on October, 8th. We will bunker supplies at the Azores a day later and then there are at least four days for the crossing of the Atlantic."

"Five days," Yotna corrected. "It's true, the next two days there are a lot of things to see, but when we have left the Azores, there will be no distractions. I need your help."

"Okay, I will try to figure out how I can help you, but I might need to talk with Franz about it."

He nodded but didn't answer.

In silence we returned to the deck.

Later Sherry had proposed to play strip-poker but suzee had only agreed to this if we used Monopoly money and it turned out that this was a clever decision because Sherry had a long winning streak. I was sure she was cheating. I had never heard about a full house with five aces but the rest of us were almost sleeping and no protests were issued. Anyway, Franz was yawning and so we went to bed.

We were cuddling each other and finally my pussy which I had mistreated in the icehouse was warming up again. I was aroused by the events from the day. This journey was fun and I liked Franz's fellows. I also felt I was in good harmony with both my boyfriend and my girlfriend.

Huh? Did I consider Sandra to be my girlfriend? She had been my best friend for ages and we had shared many adventures — including sexual adventures — but when I had fallen in love with her?

I knew I was feeling happy.

FK 6-9

Yotna continues:

As I may have mentioned, it had been an odd day. My conversation with Katka had simply added to the oddity. I was certain she thought I was totally unhinged. To tell the truth, I began to wonder myself. The story I had invented was odd enough, the truth was even stranger. In this modern world there was a shortage of a commodity I needed — virgins! Where the hell were you going to find them? I asked Esu — even she had no idea. So I had to come up with an alternative plan.

What was the closest thing to a virgin on the planet? I of course asked Jeeves, and he came up with a lot of unusual sites. After three days of downloading porn I noticed that one of the other links pointed to cheerleaders. I clicked — now they looked fresh, appealing and almost well — virginal.

Now having met them and seen what they did with the quarter-back snowmen, namely, stick dildo's on them, I wondered if my research had been sufficient. Of course keeping them fresh was a priority, hence the need for so much refrigeration on the ship. I just hoped I would never have to use my ultimate weapon. I did have some morals. Vampyres are partial to the odd virgin...

I will say no more dear reader, as I know you will be well ahead of me.

I walked back up to the deck, all was quiet now, the flashes and bangs were over for the night. Well maybe not the bangs, or the flashes if I thought about it. But they wouldn't be pyrotechnic in nature. I decided to stop thinking about this as contradicting myself was becoming a habit. Or maybe it wasn't? Oh, never mind.

Then I saw a copy of the FT on the ground. In the centre of the neatly folded paper was a pile of spent fuses. I noticed a shady figure crouched on the deck towards the far end. Time for action, well at least a question. An action question.

"Hello, what are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm a Journalist." The figure mumbled.

Well it was an answer, but not to the question I had asked.

"What does that have to do with fireworks?"

"Fireworks? Nothing. Why would it?" He asked.

"I don't know. That's why I was asking you."

"Asking me what?"

I sighed.

"What you are doing?"

"I'm picking up spent fuses from fireworks." He replied.

"I know that!" I said.

"So why ask me?"

"Why?"

"Yes that's right." He said.

"What?"

"Why?" He replied as he smiled. "Why did you ask me, if you knew what I was doing?"

"No, no, no! I wasn't asking you that, I was asking you why you were doing it."

"Doing what?" He queried.

"Picking up the f-u-s-e-s!" I was losing my patience.

"Have you been drinking?" He asked.

"No, have you?"

"What, have I what?"

"Been drinking." I stated as calmly as I could.

"Yes, and picking up fuses."

"I can see that, why have you been doing it?"

"I like a drink." He grinned.

"A journalist who likes a drink — now there's an oddity." I smirked.

"Where?" He asked.

"Where... What?" I was getting very confused here, or was it there?

"Where?" He drew himself up to his full height of several feet, "Where, I repeat — is the oddity?"

"Oh that, look it's just an expression." I try to explain.

"An oddity with an expression! I want to see that. Where is it?"

"Forget the oddity. It's gone, flown away!" I growl.

"Damn just my luck. A flying oddity with an expression and I miss it. No wonder I don't get many scoops."

I resisted the temptation to scoop him off the deck and deposit him in the sea — just.

"I want to know why you are picking up the spent firework fuses?"

"Oh that." He looked embarrassed.

"Yes that!"

"It's just a hobby..."

"A hobby? A HOBBY!"

"Yes, you see my parents never celebrated Guy Fawkes night. Not once. Never. Not all the time I was a child. So now I make up for it, with my collection."

"You have a collection?" I gasp.

"Oh yes I have thousands. Would you like to see, I have some photographs in my wallet."

"No, I would normally love to, but unfortunately the brightness of the fireworks has temporarily blinded me." I lied, in hope.

"Oh that is unfortunate. Still! Maybe tomorrow then." He answered with a sly grin.

"Yes, you never know do you? Still I have a question for you — why are you here?"

"To pick up the..."

I interrupted him.

"Do not even go there." I warn him, "Why are you, a Journalist, on the Fantasy?"

"Oh that."

"Yes, once again that!"

"I am here to write."

"You amaze me. What about?" I ask.

"I seem to amaze a lot of people — oh hum. I can't tell you, it's a secret."

"A secret? I am the Captain; there can be no secrets from me!" I say in my sternest Captain's voice.

The rotund little man proceeds to laugh himself into lather. Eventually he stops rocking back and forth and wipes his eyes on his pinstriped sleeve.

"And I thought I was a square pin in a round hole. Sorry but if you are the Captain — I definitely can't tell you. It would spoil the surprise."

"Surprise, there is a surprise. What is it?" I ask.

"Well you see once we get to..." He paused, and looked at me warily, "... Now that was crafty, I nearly told you then. Anyway good night. I have to get off and mount these before they get soggy."

"Mount what?" I ask, thinking I shouldn't.

"The fuses of course. I wish you would concentrate when I am talking to you." He sneered.

"I'm sorry it's been an odd day." I said disconsolately.

"I have those." He said.

For some reason I was not surprised.

YOT 6-3