“You coming?” he snaps.
I tentatively follow him as he strides down the corridor towards the big room I heard the partying come from the other night. We arrive at a set of stairs and I frown at him.
“Up here.” He gestures to the stairs.
Oh my God. Where is he taking me? My heart is going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment. We get to the floor above us and he walks down the corridor and knocks on a door. My eyes widen and I take a step back. Oh no. What is he doing?
The door opens and a pretty blonde girl stands before us. “Hey, Mac.” She smiles sexily.
“Hey, Chels.” He gestures to me and her face falls. I fold my arms nervously in front of me. What’s a girl doing on this horror ship? “Have you got any clothes she can borrow?” he asks.
She looks me up and down and I shrivel on the spot. Who is this? She hesitates for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” She opens the door and gestures for us to come in.
He grabs my hand and leads me into her room. I nervously look around as I cling tightly to his hand. There are mirrors on the wall and a fancy lace lightshade that hangs down low. A large bed. The room is feminine. Huh? Does she live on this ship? She disappears back into the bathroom and takes out her mascara and begins to apply it. “The clothes are in the wardrobe, help yourself,” she calls.
He opens the wardrobe and begins to search through drawers and pull things out as he inspects them.
Okay, what is going on here? I don’t understand this at all.
I glance into the bathroom and she is applying red lipstick. She’s wearing a tight, low-cut, black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s gorgeous. She reappears from the bathroom and puts her small, gold handbag over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both up there.”
“Yeah, okay,” he calls after her, distracted at the task at hand.
She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
I wait for a moment as he keeps looking at the clothes. “Who is she?” I ask.
“Chelsea,” he replies as he hands me some clothes.
“She lives on this ship?” I ask.
“Aha.”
I take the clothes he has passed to me.
“Put them on,” he demands.
I frown. I’m not getting dressed here in front of him.
He rolls his eyes. “In the bathroom.”
“Oh. Okay,” I whisper. I disappear into the bathroom and put on the clothes he has selected for me. A short, pink and purple tartan skirt with a dropped waist and box pleats, and a white flowing singlet with shoestring straps. I need a bra. I stick my head around the corner of the bathroom door and he looks up from his sitting positon on the bed. “Umm.”
“Umm, what?”
“I need some underwear,” I whisper through embarrassment.
He raises an eyebrow and tries to hide his smirk. He stands and rustles through a drawer and passes me a pair of panties. “You won’t fit her bra.” He smirks.
I stare at him blankly.
“She has big tits.”
“Oh.” Oh God, how embarrassing. I walk back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me to put on the white lace panties. I glance at myself in the mirror and cringe. I look like shit. I have a black eye and a small cut on the bridge of my nose. What must I have looked like four days ago when this first happened? I grab some concealer from her makeup bag and try to fix my face a little. I brush my long dark hair, which is frizzing to oblivion from his shitty shampoo, and I grab a hair band and tie it back into a high ponytail.
I walk back out into the room and his eyes drop to my feet and back up to my face, a trace of a smile crosses his face.
I hold my breath as I wait for his reaction.