When dealing with these two sexist pigs, I’d hoped to channel some great feminist in the history of women. Someone like Joan of Arc or Virginia Woolf. Sure it seemed a bit much, but this game that I volunteered for was more than us three. This was about lashing back at the theorized alpha male who thought he could do or say anything he wanted just because he had good looks, money, and the stupidity of a swollen ego.
When I walked up the boat’s ramp, I was supposed to appear regal and powerful, courageous and deadly like a lioness. Instead, with all the pretty butterflies swarming around me and stirring up my hair, I looked like a goddamn Disney princess.
And just to add insult to injury, Frederick appeared behind me. “You’re more captivating than Cinderella, right now.”
Fury boiled in my veins. I was hot and ready to bubble over. “Well I’m not Cinderella and you’re no Prince Charming.”
On the center of the ramp, he stepped closer to me. I refused to inch back like a scared little damsel in distress.
But, I probably should have moved away.
Frederick’s masculinity encircled me. It was such a silly thing to think, but it did. His earthy cologne trapped me to him. The profile of muscles under his thin white shirt kept my focus. The wind picked up as if under his command, raising my dress just a little and brushing soft wisps against my flesh. I shivered.
“Oh no,” he whispered to me like a lover to his devoted. “I’m not Prince Charming. I’m the bad guy that sneaks into the castle when Prince Charming is off singing songs in the woods. I’m the one with the big cock that bends needy Cinderella over. And I’m the one that makes her scream until her throat’s raw and she can’t sing a note.”
“I had no idea Cinderella got so much action.” I slipped away and hurried up the ramp, doing my best to outrun the butterflies and Frederick, who I was now going to call the Big Bad Wolf.
Another man in a white uniform helped me onto the boat. Somehow Frederick got to me in time to hook his arm around mine and guide me forward. “Are you hungry?”
“Nope. I’m still full of that line you just handed me on the ramp.”
“That wasn’t a line. It was the truth.”
I tossed him a skeptical glance. “So you really have had sex with Cinderella? I should get your autograph.”
“Maybe if you’re nice.” He led me into a small room decorated in shades of beige. There was a vanity table against the wall across from us, along with a bench, and rack of women’s clothing. “My initial research was to get your clothing size. I needed the stores you shopped at and hoped the sales clerk would remember your size.”
I laughed. “And what did you find out?”
“You like to shop at Goodwill.” He frowned. “You do know those are other people’s clothing.”
“Yes. I bet that brought down my sexiness a couple of notches.”
“Actually, I became more intrigued. You’re even thriftier than me.”
“Well, I actually have a budget, where as you have a monetary suggestion.”
“Regardless, I apologize for the invasion of your privacy.” He gestured to the gowns on the rack. “A team and I guessed your sizes.”
“A team? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I never shit people.”
I giggled and he joined along with me.
“Do you want me to put on a gown or something?” I asked.
“No.” He rubbed his hands together. “I want you to take off all your clothes and put on that white robe right there. You’ll need it for your massage. I’m a licensed masseuse.”
“No, you're not.”
“Do I need to show you my certificate?”
“Is it fake?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I guess you shouldn’t waste both of our time. Give me a few minutes and I’ll change into the robe. I’m interested to see how much you’ve learned from pumping Cinderella.”
“Well, I never got much practice with Cinderella. Belle was the wild one.”
“Aww.” I nodded. “She did marry a beast. I’m pretty impressed that you even know her name.”
“Sadly, I know all of the Disney princesses. My mother used to love them. She never had any girls so she made Max and me watch every movie.” He walked off and headed to the door. “I forgot how much she used to love them.”
“Used to?”
He paused and turned my way. “Yeah. What?”
“Why doesn’t she like them anymore?”
That expression on his face cracked a little bit around the edges, allowing me to see the real man for the first time since meeting him. “Well my real mother passed away when I was eight.”
My mouth dropped open. “But. . .well. . .it seemed like your mom was alive. You and Max kept saying parents during dinner, so I assumed that they both were alive.”
“My dad married two weeks after my real mother died. When he did, he asked us to call his new wife, mom. In my household, when Dad requests something, you do it without any questions. It just so happened that the woman he married was as sweet to us as our real mother, so it ended up not being too hard after the years went by. Plus we already knew her pretty well.”
“How?” The nosy person in me just had to know. “How did you already know the new wife?”
“She was my mother’s best friend. I guess he’d been sleeping with her the whole time.”
Sounds like your dad is a great guy.
“Were you pissed with him when he married her?” I asked.
“No.” He put his back to me and opened the door. “Not at all. I was too busy asking God to give me back my mom.”
And whether intentional or not, that was the first time Frederick found a way to needle a path into my heart, too bad it wasn’t the last.
An hour later, I lay on my front as Frederick’s fingers massaged my back. He wore nothing but a pink bow tie around his neck and tiny shorts that said, Boy Toy in pink letters on his crotch. I had to focus on something else just to not double over with laughter. But it was easy to center my attention on other things.
We were on the yacht's sun deck as it glided through the ocean. Nothing but water surrounded us. The air possessed this salty fragrance that soothed me. I couldn’t see Miami any longer. It should have worried me, but I remained calm, probably due to Frederick’s fingers, stroking me in circular motions.
Waves of clear blue water rushed past. Even dolphins appeared, sparkling with water and yipping their mouths toward us as if trying to communicate. Color layered the sky. The whole scene played out like an oil painting set in a museum. A perfect picture to all that happened to witness it.
Don’t forget that this is a game.
Every few minutes, I said that to myself. I needed to remain grounded.
“What are you thinking about?” Frederick poured warm oil on my bare back and rubbed it in at the center. I bit my lip as lusty sensations flooded my head. He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Every time I touch you on your lower back, you curl your toes.”
“You’re making that up.”
He slid his hands to that area. I groaned and curled my toes. “Okay. Maybe you’re not lying.”