Free Sin at Sea by Emma Nichols

myself wearing pasties and a teeny tiny thong. Tonight it would be black with a star charm holding it all together in the back. That should do it. Putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup, we finally left the room.
    Glancing at his watch, he said, “We still have a good hour before we should hit the line for dinner. What would you like to do?”
    Laughing, I hooked my arm through his. “Let’s go, handsome. We have to live a lifetime in one week. We’re going to do it all.”
    We exited onto the promenade deck and I lead him all the way to the sushi bar. Every night from 5-8pm there was a selection of sushi. It was only two different kinds of rolls, but it was all we could eat. Over the course of the week, I planned to make them regret that. Starting now.
    “I don’t eat sushi,” he said while demonstrating his best full body shudder.
    “You do now,” I said. I released his arm to step toward the sushi bar. Suddenly, he caught on. They would only give each person four pieces of sushi. As a hors d’oeuvre, it was only a taste for me. I needed his, too.
    Playing along, he asked, “So, do I like ginger?”
    Smirking, I said, “No, you hate ginger.”
    “How do I feel about wasabi?” He asked with a straight face and raised eyebrows.
    Chuckling, I said, “You love wasabi!” Then I placed a healthy scoop on both plates.
    We found an open window seat and I immediately sat down and patted the spot beside me. Smiling, he joined me. It was off to the side, out of the line of sight, hidden almost completely by the photography background set up. With that kind of set up, it was easy enough to rub against his leg, to run my hand along his inner thigh, to lean in and speak in a low seductive voice in his ear under the guise of too much background noise.
    It was working. I could see him getting excited. It was evident in the way he shifted in his seat. It was obvious in the way that he covered his groin with the plate. Still, I needed to up the ante. Standing, I bent low over him to collect his plate. At the angle I was bending, I had no doubt that he could see straight down my dress. I gazed at his face just to be sure. Yup. He was transfixed, completely frozen as he stared at my goodies.
    “Baby, can I take that plate for you?” I asked innocently. “They won’t let us bring it in the casino.”
    At first, he started to pass me the plate without thinking, and then he shook his head as if to break the trance and gripped it even tighter. “I’m just going to hold onto it for a minute,” he said breathlessly.
    Blinking, I looked at him and asked, “Have you reconsidered your stance on sushi?”
    Shaking his head he closed his eyes for a moment. He leaned over and held his head in his hands. From where I stood, I could hear that he was mumbling something. I sat down quickly, concerned.
    “What?” I asked. “What are you saying?” Reaching out, I grabbed his forearm with my hand.
    “Just mumbling things that are major turnoffs,” he said with a sly look. “It helps…so I don’t have to sit around with a plate in my lap all night.” He smirked.
    Standing, I smiled. “Well, you take all the time you need. I’m going to the casino. Will you join me?”
    “Soon, babe,” he assured me.

    The torture continued into dinner. The power had definitely shifted. It felt…great. I was working hard to keep it that way, too. This time, instead of playing footsies under the table, rather than run a hand up and down his thigh, I had intentionally moved my chair just out of his reach. He noticed immediately and raised an eyebrow.
    Smiling at him, I made small talk with the woman seated next to me. Her husband was engrossed in something on his phone. I didn’t envy him the shock when he received that phone bill. Cellular at sea is not cheap. I once forgot to turn off the data on my cellphone on a cruise, and even though I didn’t make any calls or send any text messages, after five days at sea, I had accrued a