Chapter 1 #2
All of this subterfuge means he knows how to ensure he’s not being tracked.
I’m certain there’s nothing on his phone that could lead somebody here, but I’m suspicious about the yacht.
Part of the reason Julián dropped hints to the other guys about coming out here for the bachelor party was that it would make it harder for someone to corner him.
These guys are all still low-level. A few are almost equal to Julián.
That’s why we didn’t worry they’d recognize me as Alejandro Diaz, nephew to the jefe de jefes—the boss of bosses, Enrique Diaz—the most powerful man in all of Latin America.
Hell, pretty much the most powerful man in the Western or Southern Hemisphere.
Fuck any president with nuclear codes. My tío could detonate a nation’s economy with one text message.
“What else you got, Mamí?”
The brunette brings my mind back to the present when she tugs the strings to her flossy bikini top.
She reveals glitter and bedazzled pasties that look like they belong on a Vegas showgirl.
The woman gyrating above my dick rolls her belly and hips, and the tiny piece of floss she’s wearing as a G-string leaves nothing to the imagination.
Along with her perfume, I catch the faint scent of her arousal.
God, what I wouldn’t give to run my fingers between her pussy lips and discover how wet she is.
I can see a gleam on her thighs that I don’t think is Vaseline or anything else like that.
I think I might affect her just as much as her lap dance affects my dick.
I planned to cut this short before it goes too far, but now I definitely need to.
“Oh, shit!”
I suddenly puff out my cheeks and look away. The boat just hit a wave, and it’s perfect timing. I shake my head and press on her shoulder, telling her to back away. I stand and pivot, bolting toward the stairs leading below deck. I hear Julián’s voice right behind me.
“I better check on him.”
Since I’m perfectly fine, I’m not headed to a bathroom. When my friend meets me at the bottom of the ladder well, we survey the area below deck. I keep my voice low as we strategize.
“There are three guest cabins, two for the crew, and one for the captain. I’ll take the captain and crew. You take the guest ones.”
This is an entry-level superyacht. It’s not as large as an ocean-going one, but it’s certainly large. Both of us carry a small device much like a flip phone in our pockets. We unfold them and turn them on. Julián grins, and I can only imagine what he’ll say.
“I remind myself of those guys with metal detectors at the beach. I just need an umbrella hat and white crew socks with sandals.”
Except we’re scanning for radio frequencies or anything giving off Wi-Fi.
“You can look for quarters in the couches. I want to know if someone bugged this boat or if there’re any trackers on here.”
“Spoilsport.” He shoots me that same conspiratorial grin we’ve shared for nearly thirty years.
Since we’re not staying here overnight, there’s very little to check in any of the cabins. But we couldn’t ignore them. You know what happens when you assume—you make an ass out of you and me.
We’re cautious as we slip past the galley.
Only the chef’s in there. We had dinner aboard the boat.
The rest of the crew is on deck to serve drinks and indulge whatever whims those cabróns come up with.
When we get to the stairs at the opposite end from which we came down, we listen intently and can hear the captain and first mate talking.
I inch up the stairs so I can peer into the bridge—the area where the captain controls and steers the boat.
We have our devices on silent, so they’ll only flash if they detect something.
Of course, they’re going off now, but I expect that.
I’m not concerned. There’s a difference between the Coast Guard tracking the boat and the Rizzos doing it because they found out about me.
“Nada.” Nothing.
I whisper to Julián when I return to him. We check out the engine room, but there’s nothing of interest there either.
“We gotta get back up there before anyone wonders why we’re both down here so long. Try to look like you just puked.”
My friend elbows me in the gut before I turn away.
We head back up on deck to find my Mediterranean beauty completely naked now, grinding on another guy’s lap.
My stab of jealousy is completely irrational and inappropriate.
It doesn’t stop my mind from screaming MINE.
When I step forward, my movement catches her attention, shifting her focus to me.
I’m certain that’s a moment of guilt I see on her face, but it’s gone so quickly, I wonder if it’s contrived.
Like maybe she’s trying to tempt me even more, perhaps hoping that if I’m jealous, I’ll pay her for a real lap dance.
As she finishes the guy’s dance and backs away, he grabs his crotch as though he’s going to jerk off through his pants.
But when his other hand reaches for his belt and pulls it open, that’s when I’ve had enough.
I’m back at my chair with a few long strides.
“They’re dancers, not hookers. Keep it in your pants.”
“Oh, come on, man. You know she wants it.”
“Don’t be disgusting. They’re dancers, not sex workers.”
“Are you sure? They’re only like one step apart.
They came here to dance for a private show.
It’s not like they’re at some club on a stage with a pole.
” The pedazo de mierda—piece of shit—looks away from me and back at the brunette beauty.
“Hey, sweetheart. I bet for the right amount, you’ve done more than just twerk.
It’s her choice, and that’s why we rented the boat anyway.
What happens out here is our business and nobody else’s. ”
I just might vomit after all. “Do you know how bad that sounds? Are you some kind of fucking predator? Did you bring these ladies out here to trap them?”
“Wait, what? No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, that’s what the fuck it sounds like.”
I straighten to my full height and push back my shoulders. It’s not like I slouch or anything. It’s difficult to miss that I’m bigger than the average guy. But when I lift my chin, push back my shoulders, and inhale, it surprises everyone—except for Julián—to see I’m practically the fucking Hulk.
“Petey, shut up before you ruin the night.” Julián barely saves the asshat.
All the men in my family are big guys, taller than what most people would assume for Latinos.
We work out twice a day because our jobs can get very physical.
It’s also time we spend together as family.
We enjoy each other’s company even when we don’t have to be together.
But I’m the largest of all the guys by half an inch in height and two inches across the back and chest.
Sometimes, we need to swap clothes. It’s not like I Hulk out in theirs because they’re too small or the other guys look like they’re little kids playing dress-up in mine. I’m just a big dude.
The brunette says something to the douchebag that makes him calm down—he was ready to stand up and face off against me. She comes over to me, and I adjust my chair to angle it away from the douche.
“Thank you for that. I can deal with men who get a little too handsy, but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
She glances in the other guy’s direction as I sit.
I let her shake her ass at me before she straddles my lap.
If we were fucking, it would be reverse cowgirl.
I behave myself like you’re supposed to when you get a lap dance at a club.
I keep my hands down at my side when I’d love nothing more than to pull her down and have her grind on my dick, which still hasn’t gone down.
It was at half-mast while I snooped. That’s because I kept thinking of her.
I told myself I was hurrying to avoid getting caught, not because I wanted to get back up here to see her.
“Part of why he got so pissed is that he noticed I was wet. He thought it was because of him.”
The woman’s speaking softly. The only person we’re facing right now is Julián. I’m certain he heard her, but he’s pretending to be on his phone.
“You flatter me, chiquita.”
She just hums her response as she finally lowers her ass to my lap, pressing backward. There’s no way she can’t tell how hard I am now. I don’t know that I’ve ever faced a greater temptation than I am in this moment. But that exchange she had with the guy feels off even more than earlier.
“It’s not flattery when it’s the truth. Holy fuck.”
I saw the flash of fear on the other women’s faces when the organizer of this three-hour tour explained why he chose this outing. The hell he did. It was Julián’s request. It was just the excuse Petey needed to be a perve.
“Thank you.”
What else do I say that won’t make me the perve?
I’ve been around strippers since I was eighteen and started working as a stock boy in our clubs the summer after I graduated high school.
Sure, I’d been curious at first. There was more than one night I went home and locked myself in my room and jacked off to the memory of the women on the stages. However, I’ve worked with them far too long for any of the dancers or what happens at clubs to faze me.
Movement to the left has me looking around and spotting the shore. We’ve already turned around, and we’re nearly to the docks. The women finished their last dance and are now mingling with us, trying to drum up future work.
“Will any of you need us again for future occasions? Perhaps another private event, maybe something a little more intimate than a crowd.”
My mysterious beauty asks the group, and there’s that coyness I expected.
She’s looking straight at me as she speaks.
I feel like she’s propositioning me rather than just trying to sell a dance by tossing in a little dirty talk.
I won’t assume she’s offering more than the dances, or that if she did, it would be of her own free will and off the clock.
“We’ll definitely keep you in mind. I have a birthday coming up next month. I think you ladies would be gifts I’d love to unwrap.”
I look at the guy who sounds like a kid in a candy store. I think his name is Mike, but I don’t remember since he’s just been drooling all night. Not exactly a conversationalist. I glance over at Julián, and he rolls his eyes. The brunette isn’t looking at me, so I inch closer to my friend.
“There’s something not quite right about her.”
“What do you mean?” His lips barely move as he speaks.
“Her aura—it’s too strong. Earlier, when that gilipollas made it sound like this was some rape cruise, it wasn’t defiance or arrogance because she’s gorgeous.
I don’t know how to articulate it, but where the other women appeared scared for that moment, she was the opposite.
She wasn’t even offended. And I don’t mean she just has a thick skin.
It didn’t faze her at all. Like she could handle it if he got aggressive. ” Asshole.
“I noticed it too. There was a ‘you-can-try’ challenge about her. Maybe it was a touch of defiance. But that seems out of place for someone whose tips depend upon being coy. They’re part actress as much as dancer.
They pretend to be interested in customers they probably wish they’d never met. She didn’t hide her annoyance.”
Julián gets it. I knew he would.
“I wonder if she’s law enforcement trying to bust us for prostitution.”
That should make my arousal fizzle, and it does a bit, but she still tempts me.
I’m not opposed to one-night stands. I don’t have them anymore, but I have in the past. The memory of her grinding on another guy when I came back on deck flashes before my eyes.
It reminds me all over again that it’s a performance, and she’s not into me.
But it would be easy to forget as her gaze sweeps over me as she saunters to stand in front of me.
Guess my conversation with Julián is over.
“What about you? Any birthdays or special events coming up?”
“No, but thanks for the offer.”
I’m trying not to be judgmental about her job, but it’s a definite turnoff to think I’m sharing her. That’s only cool when it’s consensual roleplaying at a BDSM club.
“For you, any time.”
Her tone is extra sultry. I know the moment she realizes she can’t convince me otherwise. The expression she shoots me is one of hurt and disappointment. I test the waters a little now that I wonder if she could be local police or a fed.
“It was nice meeting you, but I don’t pay for my pleasures.”
I shoot her a wicked grin I’ve perfected over the years. It gets me just about anything I want with women and even men. It doesn’t work with anyone in my family, so I don’t bother.
“I bet you don’t have to.”
She shoots me a look that masquerades as hurt.
It doesn’t match the attitude she had. It comes across as fake.
Insulted would’ve been the more appropriate response.
Picking the wrong fake reaction finally dampens any interest I had in her sexually.
Now I’m merely curious about how she plans to fuck me over.