My fight instincts start to fire up but I try desperately to control them. Control it I remind myself. “Please,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my lips and he smiles sardonically. “For now.” An uneasy feeling washes over me. I’m disturbed by the way my body reacts to him, the way my heart races when he looks at me. His touch is electric.
As if reading my mind, he smiles sexily and takes my hand and pulls me with him out the door.
* * *
We walk into the large, messy hall and I see everyone’s eyes lift as they see us. I feel sick. What the hell am I doing here? He towers above me and holds my hand in his. I glance around the room. To the right is a big kitchen where a male chef is cooking. In front are six tables and chairs where some people are eating. To the left is a super large plasma television. Lounges are in front of that and scattered in no particular order. At the back is a bar with a pool table and a table tennis table. The room is huge and nice… not at all what I was expecting. In fact, this whole ship isn’t what I was expecting. I thought container ships were supposed to be dirty and unkempt? I stand nervously as I await his instruction and he walks us over to the kitchen.
“Just two?” the chef calls.
I stare at the chef. Is he in on this? Will he help me?
“Thanks,” Mac replies.
He then leads me by the hand to the back bar and another man smiles from behind it. I step back when I see him. He is one of the men from the other night.
Mac feels my fear and puts his arm protectively around my shoulders.
I drop my eyes to the floor as I try to concentrate on the task at hand.
“What do you want to drink?” Mac asks.
“Diet Coke,” I reply without emotion.
I glance over to the pool table where I see six girls in sexy clothing playing. I frown. More girls… Oh, thank God. They will help me. I just need to talk to them alone. Mac tightens his grip around my shoulders. I glance around the room and see approximately fifteen men. Some I recognize, some I don’t. None of them are at all surprised to see me here. They all know I am taken and they don’t care.
What fucking kind of ship is this?
He gets our drinks and takes them over to the dining table area and pulls a chair out for me. I sit down. I can feel the eyes on my back. He sits down opposite me and picks up his Coke.
“You’re drinking Coke?” I ask. Every night this week he has come back to the room smelling of beer or Scotch. Why is tonight different?
“I’m on call tonight,” he replies.
“Oh.” I frown. I forget this is actually a job.
My eyes roam to the girls playing pool and I can see them looking over and talking to each other. What are they saying? Are they going to help me?
“Who are the girls?” I ask.
He sips his drink as he seems to contemplate giving me the answer. “The crew’s girls.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He sips his drink again.
“Are they the wives of some of the men?” I ask.
He smirks as his eyes hold mine. “They are the whores of all of the men.”
Horror dawns.
I lean forward. “Prostitutes?” I whisper in mortification.
He raises an eyebrow. “We are a long time at sea.”
I sit back in disgust. I have no words. I glance over at them again. “So you all just fuck whoever you want?”