Chapter 17

I couldn't breathe. My whole life seemed to flash before my eyes as I started to feel faint. I had to sit down in the chair previously occupied by that fucking woman. I just knew, as my eyes welled up with tears, that my whole life with Josie was fucked. That cunt would destroy me. I just knew she would. The vindictive bitch would screw my life up once again...

"My God John. You look terrible. Have I to call Josie?" I dimly heard after I'd slowly walked back behind the bar.

"No ... No. I'll be fine. I just feel a little sick that's all. I'll be OK after I've sat down for a bit." I managed to mutter to whoever it was that had asked me if I was OK. My eyes weren't focussing properly so I had no idea which one of the staff had seen the state I was in.

I sat in a daze in the store-room behind the bar, staring at the scribbled note I was holding in my shaking hand. My mind was going crazy in a maelstrom of emotion as I pondered how I could get out of this fucking disaster. The internal phone ringing made me almost jump out of my skin as I sat there, my head in my hands, swaying back and forth and muttering to myself in frustration. I knew instinctively who it was even before I nervously picked up the handset and answered.

My anger almost boiled over as I slammed the buzzing handset down onto its cradle. The bitch! I fucking knew this was going to happen. Why the fuck did she have to pick our ship? How fucking unlucky could I be?

Slowly I started to calm down as my poor heart began to beat normally. Would she really tell everyone her version of my life-story if I didn't do as she had instructed? I knew the answer to that question without a doubt. Of course she fucking would...

Just over an hour later at almost 3am on the second of January 1999- my day of destiny as I was to discover- I found myself standing outside the door to the Presidential Suite. The ship's layout meant that that particular cabin was alone at the end of a long corridor with no neighbouring accommodation anywhere near it. It was exclusively private, having a larger than average balcony that looked out to sea at the rear of the ship and was not overlooked at all. Nothing below it apart from the ship's stern and the wash left behind by its huge propellers many feet below. I knew the layout well. Josie and I had had a few sneaky assignations there when the suite was otherwise unoccupied on a cruise, spending many an hour shagging each other on the huge four-poster bed surrounded by opulence we would never have been able to afford normally. Now it was as though all those marvellous memories were about to be destroyed because our wonderful secret love-nest had turned into an evil bitch's fucking lair...

I had deliberated all the time I was clearing up in the bar about whether I should do as that bitch instructed me, regretfully deciding that I didn't have a fucking choice. Maybe I could persuade her to keep her mouth shut for once? Appeal to any semblance of decency she may have left in her nasty, vindictive mind. Deep down though, I knew I was fucked.

I hesitated for a few seconds before eventually tapping lightly on the gold-painted metal door. Surprisingly it moved, swinging inward slightly as it reacted to my knocking. From inside I dimly heard her voice inviting, no, instructing me, to enter.

I slowly walked into the beautifully decorated sitting room to find it empty. The large double doors that led into the bedroom were both wide open giving me a clear view of the bed where Josie and I had spent so many happy times. I could see Claire's husband spread-eagled across one side of it, in his shirt sleeves with his trousers comically bunched around his ankles. His fat gut was over-hanging his huge white boxers as his chest rose and fell rhythmically in time with his loud snoring. In any other circumstances I would have had to laugh at the sight. At that moment though, I just ignored it.

"Out here John."

I looked out onto the balcony to find Claire sat in one of the heavily-padded loungers provided for the usually important occupants of this suite. She had obviously changed her dress after coming back from the bar. Now she was wearing a black silky robe that showed that she was naked underneath. The shadowy shape of her breasts shook as she indicated for me to join her at the table, drawing my attention reluctantly to the beautiful tits I had once worshipped.

"I see you still like my breasts John. You always did didn't you?" she said softly, mocking me as she reached up and cupped those soft orbs I had known so well all those years ago.

"What is it you want Claire?" I asked brusquely, tearing my gaze away from her chest and looking into her eyes.

"Sit down John. We have a lot to talk about." She laughed, pushing a chair toward me with her foot and in the process revealing her naked thigh almost all the way to her groin.

"No we don't, you... bitch. We have nothing to talk about. So I'll ask you again ... What the fuck do you want?" I snapped through my clenched teeth.

Laughing out loud, a look of mocking disdain in her eyes, she stood and dropped the filmy robe. Her naked body, illuminated as it was by the light from the bedroom, showed just how much she looked like her mother. The same soft, upturned breasts, sagging just a little against her chest; the same slightly-rounded stomach above her well-padded hips; the same completely hairless mound between her slim thighs displaying just a hint of her womanly lips. Everything almost identical except for one major difference. Me ... My cock remained as limp as an old rope in my trousers. The feelings of disgust and hatred I felt toward her completely over-riding any feelings of lust that otherwise may well have taken over my thoughts.

She grinned salaciously at me, licking her lips like an evil predator about to eat its prey. "For the moment, I just want a good fuck. You were always very good at fucking me John. A little straight maybe, but you always got me there ... After that, we'll have to see what I want from you."