“Yes.” She swallows and glances at Tatianna, who is following closely behind us, but absorbed in something on her phone as she so often is lately.
“This is her,” I say, pointing up ahead to where the sleek, white-hulled vessel rests in the water. She's big—but not obnoxiously so. Only seventy-feet, which is actually on the small side for a yacht. But she sleeps eight guests, in four private cabins, which is plenty big for my recreational use.
The staff has her all ready for us. The chrome fixtures have been polished and are sparkling in the sunlight, and I can see up on the main deck that the lounge chairs have been outfitted with pillows and towels. I offer Tatianna a hand and she climbs aboard. I glance back to see what's keeping Mia. She's still standing on the dock, her attention captured by something at the stern.
“Mia?” I climb down the steps and go to her.
She's staring at the purple cursive lettering I had painted at the stern, just above the swim platform.
“You named your boat Gremlin?” she asks with astonishment in her voice.
I shrug. “It seemed fitting.” When I bought my boat, I could think of no better name than after my friend who I shared so many good times with—one of the most significant happening on a boat. Her eyes widen and find mine as the meaning behind the name sinks in.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her toward the stairs. “I want to show you around.”
She squeezes my hand, and then follows me up on board.
Every inch of the yacht seems to amaze her, and I love the giddy excitement she openly displays. It's refreshing. She seems to like the theater room with its big screen and comfy reclining loveseats the best. “The intent behind it is for rainy days, but we have so few of those in Southern California, that it's never been used. We mostly stay out on the deck,” I explain.
“I'm sure you and Tatianna come and stay the night here just for the fun of it, sometimes, right? Movie and popcorn night. That would be fun.”
My brow crinkles. “No, actually we've never done that.”
Mia’s confusion is written all over her face.
I decide to continue the tour. Showing her the bedrooms feels too intimate, especially given what happened between us the last time we were below deck together, so I merely point and continue walking.
Mia shuffles behind, her gaze bouncing around each room to absorb every detail.
No matter what is going on in my life, or at work, I always looked forward to Sundays. Fresh ocean air and blue skies are good for the soul.
I guide her back upstairs. The breeze is just beginning to pick up as we motor out of the harbor. The deck is outfitted with various couches and chairs arranged for conversation, there's a hot tub off to one side and then plenty of lounge chairs with fluffy cushions for sunbathing. That's where Tatianna has already stationed herself. As usual she's removed her top—her small pointy nipples are staring straight up at the sun. She sits up when she notices our arrival.
“Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable,” she says to Mia, gesturing to her naked chest. “I don't like tan lines, but I can cover up if you prefer.”
Mia stares straight ahead, seemingly unfazed by Tatianna's display. “I'm not uncomfortable.” Mia removes her own tank top from over her head, and I swear I see the whole thing in slow motion to the beat of hypnotic music. I am mesmerized. Mia has nothing to be ashamed of. Her chest is on the large side and is barely contained by the cups of her purple bikini top. If she wanted to follow suit and take off her top, there is no way my erection would go unnoticed. I already feel my cock stirring in my shorts, and I have to distract myself with gathering drinks.
I look down at my dick and curse at him. “Not today, fucker,” I say under my breath while arranging cups with ice.
“What was that?” Mia asks, coming over to join me.
“Nothing,” I bite out. “What would you like to drink?”
“Do you have lemonade?”
Breasts are one of the few areas where Tatianna hasn’t been blessed, however, that doesn’t mean I'm free to gawk at Mia's glorious, round tits. But dear God, it's like Christmas. I can't seem to keep my eyes from straying over to her chest. The soft mounds are pushed together thanks to the straining fabric, and her cleavage is plentiful. I want to bury my face between them and treat them to wet kisses. Mia in a bathing suit is holy hell, hot. I'm used to Tatianna's model-thin body with her lack of curves, and visible rib cage. Mia has soft rounded flesh that I want to sink my teeth into. I can't stop staring, and I'm hoping the heated gazes I'm sending her aren't obvious.
“Collins?” Tatianna asks, pulling my attention away.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out tense and too rough. I clear my throat and try again.
“Can I have sparkling mineral water with a slice of cucumber?” she asks.
“Of course.” I head to the kitchen to retrieve a cucumber, thankful for the moment away from Mia. I have no idea why she's affecting me this way, but I know I need to get my head on straight.
We settle in for some sunbathing, but after an hour of sitting quietly in the sun, Mia declares herself officially bored and wanders off in search of something to entertain herself.
There are books and board games in a cabinet inside, and I expect her to return with one of those, but when she makes her way back on deck fifteen minutes later, she's carrying several foam noodles and one of the crew members—James, I think—is attaching a giant inflatable slide I didn't even know I had over the side of the boat.