Chapter 19

CALLIE YAWNED AND STRETCHED. Her body felt bruised and sore like she did after a long, hard dance workout. She smiled. She had danced, just a different dance - the dance of love with Hunter.

Turning her head, she saw the bed was empty. A momentary spike of fear passed when she saw him sipping coffee at the small table by the porthole. Why didn’t he ever sleep in?

Her bladder called. A flush of warm embarrassment hit when she felt a damp spot underneath her. She’d leaked! Dashing to the bathroom with panties and Tee in hand, she told Hunter, “I’ll have some coffee, too.”

Teeth brushed, hair combed - order restored, and bladder relieved, she put a pad in her panties to avoid staining them. She was still leaking slightly. How much do guys cum? she wondered. It felt like tons! Then again, they’d had sex twice yesterday. How could anyone get work done when there was sex instead?

Hunter studied her when she emerged. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Another flush hit her, warmth in her face. She nodded. “We made a mess in the bed.”

He shrugged and pushed a cup of coffee across the small table to her. She took it and sipped.

“What would you like to do today?” he asked.

“I need to practice dancing.”

He nodded.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He frowned in annoyance at her, then informed her, “Watch you dance. I told you, you don’t go anywhere without me.”

Callie smiled to herself. She knew what his answer would be, but liked bugging him, giving her his hairy eyeball look.

Twenty minutes later, she forgot about him, lost in dancing.

I SAT QUIETLY WATCHING Callie dance. After some warm-up exercises, she started a modern dance routine. It was obvious she was completely absorbed.

When she switched from modern dance into ballet, performing a series of pirouettes across the floor, her body was perfectly upright, legs straight, and neck long, her head held just so.

In her, I could see greatness, the special quality only rarely seen, like Muhammad Ali floating on his feet in the boxing ring, or Michael Jordan with his grace on the basketball court, or Wayne Gretzky on ice; a quality that raised them above all others, almost magical and mesmerizing. She reminded me of Mikhail Baryshnikov performing ballet on stage. She had that same ability; the appearance of pausing in mid-air as she leapt, defying gravity for just a moment, almost hovering, only to land with grace on one foot, never wavering, confident. She was born to dance.

I wondered what her future would hold? Would she realize her dreams? Could I keep the promise I’d made to keep her safe?

Squirming in the hard chair, I accepted I might not be able to. However, I knew I would die trying and that was okay. She was worth it.

We returned to our stateroom. Callie blithely pulled her white leotard down proving she hadn’t worn a bra. She did have panties on; skimpy, plain white string bikini style that hugged her privates like I suddenly wanted to.

Seemingly oblivious to my admiring gaze, Callie stretched her arms up, arched her back, then, with legs together, bent at the waist. Facing away from me towards the bathroom, her forehead touched her knees.

My pulse rate jumped. Blood flowed south, an erection slowly forming. But, Jesus! Her ass gained a sexy heart-shape, partially covered by her panties. The sight that had me riveted was her pussy. Coddled by white cotton, with a darkened damp spot, it oozed out between her thighs, a camel toe forming as cotton pressed tightly. Framed by her thighs and buttocks, Callie’s pubis looked ripe, plump, and good enough to eat. Erection now uncomfortably constrained by jeans, I shifted in the chair and tried to surreptitiously adjust myself.

Callie giggled.

Pulling my eyes from her pussy, I looked lower. From between her legs, upside down pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement at me, her arms wrapped around her legs.

“What’s the matter, Lightfoot? You look uncomfortable.”

With a bright laugh, she straightened and strolled into the bathroom, her gorgeous buttocks moving up and down in counterpoint; so goddamned sexy!

Standing suddenly, I shucked my jeans, tugged off my shirt without unbuttoning it, and, moving towards the bathroom, dropped my boxers and kicked them off along the way. My erection led. The sound of the shower started.

Callie, head tilted back under the water to wet her hair, was shaking in quiet laughter. She didn’t resist when I grabbed her. On the contrary, she moved into me, one arm rising to hook around my neck, and one leg rising to hook around my thigh, her other hand reaching for my erection.

Her quiet laughter faded, leaving her smiling at me, obviously pleased at her success. She let go of my cock.

Reaching behind her, I held her sexy buttock, my erection now pressed against her soft stomach.

“I’ve never known anyone like you,” I admitted. “You’re one of a kind.”

Her expression softened. “You make me this way,” she said, rising onto tiptoes to brush her lips against mine.

“I don’t like it.”

Her eyes opened wider. “Don’t like what?”

“That you can control me so easily.”

With a quick laugh, she replied, “Get used to it. Suck it up, Lightfoot!” Then, with sweet, gentle blue eyes twinkling, she added, “You’re mine, Hunter.”

Before I could confirm or deny, her hand gently grasped my erection again and squeezed, sending a pulse of desire through me and emptying my brain.