My Father's Second Wife Ch. 04

After a pause, she said, "When your dad fucked the living shit out of you on the patio?" finishing the sentence for me.

I could only nod my head in agreement.

"That was one crazy-ass night," she said, cocking her head to one side. "That might have been the craziest thing we've ever done, and believe me when I say we've done some crazy shit."

My mind was reeling. These were the two girls that literally held me while my father and I had sex. They had then bathed me and lay with me afterwards. Now they were painted up as mermaids here to do the Russians silly. I did not have a witty comeback for that.

While I was trying to digest all of this, the girl thrust out her hand and said, "Rebecca."

I reached out, shook her hand, and said, "Charlotte."

"Please to meet you, Charlotte," she said gracefully. She then added, "again." With a little wink she said, "It's nice to put a name to the ass since, you know, we've already slept together. My friend is Nikki, Nix for short. You've met her again too," she said with a sly smile. This confirmed that the mermaid she stole away from me was Nikki.

Again, the conversation lulled. We sat listening to the sounds of the night. There was the gentle slap of water on the hull, the not so gentle slap of Viktor doggy-fucking another mermaid, and the whimpering moans of Einstein trying to get his cock between some mermaid's ass cheeks. I can only assume it was too soft, too short, or both.

"She's smitten with you," Rebecca said, returning to the previous topic. I turned to look at her.

"Ever since that night with your father, you're all she talks about. She calls you 'the golden girl.' I'm starting to get a little jealous," Rebecca said, although the twinkle in her eye told me she was lying about the jealousy part.

The other mermaid, Nikki, was in love with me? This was weird. For the umpteenth time this week, I was finding it hard to get my bearings.

Here I was, on a boat, wearing only half a bikini, talking to a naked mermaid, about how her girlfriend is falling in love with me after eating my pussy during an incestuous copulation with my father. How am I supposed to react to that? Hell, I'm not even sure what my sexual orientation is anymore.

I tried to change the subject. "Sorry about your knees." I'd also remembered that Rebecca's knees had gotten pretty banged up on the bricks while my dad was—how did she put it?—"fucking the living shit" out of me.

She lifted her leg into the air so we could both admire it. "It looked a lot worse than it was," she said. It was hard to tell underneath the body paint, but her knee did look OK. "I've gotten worse than that on stage."

Once again, I felt adrift. "On stage?" I asked, dumbly. What does this girl do?

"Nix and I are dancers, modern ballet, soloist in the Clifford-Wells Dance Ensemble," she said proudly. "It's a first rate company. You should come see us some time."

My head was hurting from trying to wrap itself around each new revelation. Trying to make sense of this, I asked, "So why are you doing this?" gesturing to the sweaty tangle of bodies on deck.

Two of the mermaids were now in a 69 across one of the cocktail tables. Einstein was fucking the bottom one while Combover was giving it to the top one. I couldn't tell if the girls were eating each other or tea bagging the men's balls. Each man had two more mermaids pressing themselves against the men's backs, cooing, and stroking their hairy bodies. It was a male fantasy run amok. Everyone was smeared with body paint, the colors running together into a uniform grey. I couldn't see Viktor anymore. I hope he didn't have a heart attack before signing the contracts.

"Why do we come and prostitute ourselves at expensive, over-the-top, themed sex parties for wealthy men?" she asked, anticipating my question. I nodded in agreement that this was, indeed, my question.

"Oldest story in the book," she said. "Young girls spend their entire youth studying dance, with dreams of becoming ballerinas, only to move to the big city and discover that a dancer's salary won't buy you a double-espresso, let alone a place to live."

"So after nine months, they sell the only assets they have," she said, gesturing to her naked body.

"I hooked up with an escort agency and started turning tricks," she said, continuing her story. "I tried keeping Nix out of it, but she'd have none of that. If I was doing it, she was doing it."

"If your dad hadn't saved us, I don't know what we'd have done," she said, as if that explained everything. It didn't explain a goddamn thing. It opened a Pandora's box of new questions.

Trying to chip away at the mystery, I asked, "So this isn't through an escort service?"

Rebecca laughed, hard. "God, no!" she exclaimed. "This is paradise compared to that hell. Escort girls are supposed to be the high-end of prostitution, but that's bullshit. You're a whore and they treat you like a whore. How do you explain a black eye at rehearsal because you got punched in the face for not undressing fast enough?"

I couldn't answer that question. And I'm sure Rebecca must have seen the horror on my face.

"It's your father that rescued us," she continued. "Things were pretty dark. We were still barely making ends meet and every day we were scared of getting beat up, diseased, or worse."

"And then this wonderful man came to one of our dance performances," she said, her face practically beaming. "Then he came to a second. When he showed up at a gala fundraiser, all of the dancers were falling over themselves to meet him. He was so charming and so generous. With his help, we raised a shit pile of money that night."

"Somehow, we managed to catch his eye," she said. "After the gala, he took us to dinner, and the three of us spent the night making love. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed sex, I'd almost forgotten how nice it can be."

Rebecca was dreamily staring at the stars. She realized the story had stopped, and picked it up again. She said, "I don't know how he knew we were turning tricks, but he brought us coffee in bed the next morning and asked if we wanted to stop working for the escort agency. He said, 'You are both exquisite dancers. I'm impressed that you would sell your bodies just to keep dancing. That shows a lot of conviction. I have a much better opportunity for you.'"

"We didn't even really believe him—guys make a lot of wild promises the next morning." Rebecca continued. "You see, once you have a pimp they don't let you quit. Disfigurement or a body bag are your only retirement options. But true to his word, that afternoon we got a text from the agency. They no longer needed our services and we were not to contact them again."

Rebecca took a big breath, as if reliving the relief. She said, "In a month we were doing these," she gestured to the grunting pile of bodies. "They're always very elaborate. We get to wear costumes, although often not much," she winked at me to make sure I knew what she meant. I looked down at my outfit and empathized.

"There's champagne, food, and music. Sometimes even the sex is good. Nix and I have gotten to do some real dancing on a few occasions. I recently choreographed a cheerleader number," she said with pride. "OK, the cheerleaders weren't wearing anything underneath their skirts and the 'jocks,'" she said, making air quotes with her fingers, "were all in their fifties, but it was still fun."

Rebecca pointed her finger at me so I would be clear on the next point, and said, "It's safe and the money's good, really good. Nix and I have a savings account now and your dad's accountant set us up with a 401K plan." She laughed as it the whole thing were too funny to believe, saying, "Two years ago, I was wondering if I was going to end up on drugs or murdered in some alley, and now I'm a bitch with a retirement account."

I found Rebecca, and her story, fascinating. There was so much going on that I'd never seen and, like the Wizard of Oz, my father seemed to be secretly orchestrating it all.

Wanting more back story, I asked "So, you and Nikki go back a ways?"

"We're joined at the hip," Rebecca said. "Also at the leg, crotch, shoulder, lips, heart, and head," she added with a laugh.

"Nix and I have known each other since we were toddlers. We started taking dance class together when we were six and never stopped. Until we moved to the city, my entire world was school, dance classes, and Nix—and school not so much."

Rebecca lazily stretched her arms as she continued, "We spent every waking hour together. I suppose it was inevitable that we'd start spending every sleeping hour together. I don't even know when it happened. One day I woke up and realized that at some point 'her bed' had become 'our bed.'"

"So you're a couple?" I probed.

"I don't know what we are. From time to time we've each had boyfriends, and occasionally girlfriends," she explained. "I believe Nix thinks of me as her companion and lover. I tend to think of her as my little sister, which can be awkward at times."

"You feel weird about having sex with your sister?" I postulated.

"No, whether I need to be supportive or protective," she said.

Rebecca shifted on the bench so she was facing me directly. "Let's say Nix's boyfriend is screwing her. Do I stroke his balls?" she asked, pointedly. I was hoping this was a hypothetical question.

"Or do I kick him in the balls, toss his ass into the hall, and tell him if he wants a girlfriend as special as Nix he should get a goddamn job and pay for a few things—that kind of awkward."

Rebecca sank back down into the bench. "It doesn't matter what you call it, we will always be best friends," she said, putting an end to the subject.

As if on cue, Nikki came running over.

She practically leapt onto Rebecca, wrapping her arms around her and planting a big friendly kiss on her cheek. For a moment, they became a single creature, some bizarre four-footed cuttle fish.

Almost as quickly as she pounced on Rebecca, Nikki sprung away and attacked me with the same veracity. Before I could protest, or even evade, I was wrapped in a fierce hug. One of those desperate "I'm never going to let you go" hugs.

There's a polite duration for hugs. It's about a second or two. After three it becomes awkward. We were ten, maybe fifteen, seconds past awkward now. This girl was just not going to let go of me.

Rebecca came to my rescue. She gave Nikki a firm slap on her butt cheek and scolded, "Let her breathe, kitten cat."

Nikki released me from her clutches and sat back. "You're still here," she exclaimed, infinitely pleased that I hadn't jumped overboard to escape her. I hadn't the heart to tell her I really had no place to go.

She just sat and grinned at me like I was the best gift she'd ever received. Then, in a flash of recollection, she turned around to Rebecca. "They're starting a lineup," she said, with a heavy sigh.

Her head snapped back around like a parrot's. "Later?" she asked.

"Later," I confirmed. Nikki's face lit up like a Christmas tree. You'd think I just told her she was going to be on the cover of Vogue.

Rebecca, who clearly understood the cryptic message, had risen, took Nikki by the hand, and was dragging her back to the Russians. With her free hand, Nikki blew me a kiss.

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With nothing else to do, I walked over to see what the lineup was all about.

The "lineup" was the next level of sexual humiliation. All of the mermaids—I counted eight now—were assembling on one of the longer benches, leaving smears of silvered colored paint on the white upholstery. They were all facing away, with their backs towards the group.

Once they were assembled, they all leaned forward, presenting an unbroken line of asses and pussies. Viktor approached the first ass in line, his thick dick bobbing in front of him, as if to herald his approach.

I finally witnessed a steward in action. With a deft hand, she slipped a fresh condom on Viktor's prick, only moments before he buried it in the backside of the first mermaid.

"So the stewards were on condom duty," I mused to myself. Sort of the orgy equivalent of the ball boy at a tennis match.

Viktor rammed into the girl from behind for several minutes, clutching her hips like she was a bucking bronco. Slowing, he easing himself out and plowing right into the next one. The girls not being assaulted just kneeled there, asses up, patiently waiting their turn to be harpooned.

"Like poking fish in a barrel," I thought, amusing myself a little.

The shocker came when Viktor had worked his way into mermaid #3. Combover stepped up to the plate and prepared to mount mermaid #1. This was going to be a train too.

"Talk about sloppy seconds," I thought to myself, making a low whistle. In a way, it was symbolic. Combover and Einstein were clearly second and third to Viktor's first. Their entire lives were made from the scraps that Viktor threw them. A fucked-out cunt would just be another scrap.

I didn't have the stomach to watch this to its inevitable conclusion. I wandered off to see if I could find my dad.

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It didn't take me long to find father, and most everyone else. Many of the party had drifted back into the large lounge on the main deck. It had turned into a sedate celebration, filled with equal parts relief and exhaustion. Champagne was being liberally distributed. I'd barely stepped inside before a tray of flutes appeared before me. I took one and thanked the steward.

Margo, Diane, and Victoria were laughing in one corner. They were too engrossed in their conversation to see me. It didn't take long to spot Dad. He was at the bar, nursing a Scotch, and going over some paperwork with one of the lawyers. My father: always the last one working.

I went over to the bar. Father looked up from his work, wrapped a muscular arm around my waist, and pulled me into a tight hug—almost spilling my champagne in the process.

"What are you working on?" I asked.

"Just a few last minute details," Father said. "Viktor still hasn't signed the final copies, and you know what they say."

I stared at him making it clear I did not know what they say.

"It ain't over until the fat bastard signs," he proclaimed.

I squinted my eyes, wrinkled my nose, and said, "I'm pretty sure that's not what they say, Dad."

Father laughed. It was an easy laugh, a relaxed laugh. My father was feeling good. He let go of my waist and I was left to stand on my own again.

"Did you have a good time?" he inquired.

"For a while," I replied with a sigh, making it clear I was more than a little disappointed. "I got all lathered up and then got cut loose. Apparently there were bigger fish in the sea."

Father said, "Uh huh," but was still looking over his papers.

"Coitus interruptus," I volunteered. "That's latin," I added.

Nothing.

"This isn't working," I said to myself. "Time for the direct approach."

I pressed my hips against his leg as he sat on the bar stool. I leaned into his side, my breath warm on his neck, and in my best sex-kitten voice, I softly said, "You could do something about that. I was thinking later, you and me," I lightly traced the muscles underneath his dress shirt with my finger tip, "could do the dance with no pants?" I batted my eyes. Fuck, if that didn't seal the deal, nothing would.

Father underlined something in the contract and said, rather off handedly, "It seems you're already ahead of me in that department."

In less than a heartbeat, I was full on furious. I balled up my hand and bopped him in the chest. That got his attention! He froze, his pen in mid-sentence, focusing on me.

Finally.

"You need some schooling," I said sassily. "Here's how it works."

I grabbed the back of his free hand, pulled it around, slipped it underneath my cover up, and planted it on my ass check. When I let go of his hand, it stayed there. "OK, at least he's not an idiot," I reassured myself.

"This is a nice ass," I said pointedly. "When a hot girl," I pointed to myself, "tells a hot guy," I pointed to him to make it clear he was the hot guy in this situation, "he can have that ass, there's only one acceptable response."

I had father's undivided attention now. He cocked his head slightly, listening intently for the answer.

"Time and place," I said firmly. Father nodded his head that he understood.

"OK, we're going to try this again," I said. "I'm going to make it super simple so there's no confusion." He nodded again.

I cleared my throat and spoke slowly, carefully, enunciating each word, "I ... want ... to ... fuck."

Now my father was playing stupid. He knit his eyebrows, pretending not to understand.

I sighed and added, "You!"

Dad's face broke into a huge grin. He paused, composed himself, and in the same voice I used he said, "Starlight ... Suite ... an hour ... or two."

I kindly patted his chest where I'd hit it with my fist and said, "See that wasn't hard, was it?"

He smiled and gave my ass a little squeeze before letting it go. Now in a much better mood, I told my new pupil, "But next time, try to get it under fifteen minutes. An hour is a long time to make a girl wait."

Father shrugged his shoulders as if to say that was the best he could do, and returned to the contract.

I retrieved my champagne flute. As I left my father to his work, I said, "You know, you just might get the hang of this hooking up thing," pausing before adding, "with a little more practice."

That made father snort.

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I drifted through the lounge. It had a remarkable view of the perversions being performed on the poop deck. The crowd, however, was paying very little attention to it. They showed about as much interest as a class outing to the local aquarium. Except in this aquarium, the sharks were gang raping the anemones.

Eventually I found myself with Margo, Diane, and Victoria. Champagne glasses kept appearing, which kept the conversation lubricated and convivial. It was just another girls night out—except for the, you know, billion dollar boat, naked fat Russians, and mermaid prostitutes.

----------

I didn't notice where the time had gone, until I felt Diane insistently tapping my shoulder and throwing her eyes towards the door. Just outside were Rebecca and Nikki, excitedly hopping up and down and pointing at me. Blocking their entrance was one of the more imposing stewards.

I waved to the steward to let them through, and they immediately bounded past him, scampering over to our corner.

All traces of their mermaid selves were gone. Their skin was pink from being freshly scrubbed. Rebecca's hair was now in a loose bun while Nikki had pulled hers into a ponytail. Nikki was wearing a simple white spaghetti strap sundress that matched her strappy heels. The fabric was thin and the hem a bit frayed, giving her a "poor farmer's daughter" look.

Rebecca was a little more urban. She wore a large white satin jacket, unzipped enough to reveal the cleavage between her obviously braless tits, with black Reeboks. The wide knit waistband of the jacket hugged her hips, like the world's shortest miniskirt. It was hard to tell if either one was wearing anything else.

The night air had gotten cold enough that the most prominent feature of their outfits were their erect nipples, poking out proudly through both the thin cotton of Nikki's dress and the satin of Rebecca's jacket.

Their nipples might have also been reacting to the atmosphere in the room, which had become a bit chill. Margo and Diane were decidedly cool towards the new arrivals. I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I didn't know if it was just because they didn't know them, because I breaking some unwritten etiquette letting "the staff" mingle with "the guests," or maybe just because they'd been watching them whore it up the past two hours and couldn't get that picture out of their heads. Even the ship's staff was acting a little snooty; I had to flag down a steward to get them some champagne.