Free All the Pretty Poses by M. Leighton

I’m already too fidgety to stay here until dinner time.
I decide to go up to one of the open-air decks to enjoy the view
instead.
    I make three wrong turns getting from where
my room is in the forward-most part of the ship to where I thought
the steps were that lead to the upper decks. Luckily, one of my
wrong turns leads me to a set of steps that end up in the kitchen
where Brian just happens to be standing, talking to a man whom I
assume is the chef. His tall, puffy hat and long white apron are
dead giveaways.
    Brian smiles as soon as I appear in the
doorway just beyond the long, stainless steel table at which they
stand. He’s going over a list of foods as the chef winds long, thin
strips of dough into spirals.
    “Well, look at you,” he says pleasantly,
bestowing upon me another of his winning, yet markedly
un-sexually-interested smiles.
    “I think I’m lost. I was actually going up to
one of the decks to take in some fresh air before dinner.”
    “Good for you. Enjoy it while you can. Once
the clients are on board, you won’t be able to hang around up
there. You’ll be getting cozy with the rest of us in the
trenches.”
    I get a sinking sensation in the pit of my
stomach just thinking about spending the next three months locked
away in a tiny, airless room in the bow of a ship. But I hide that
beneath the small, placid smile that I’ve learned to permanently
affix to my face.
    “Oh. Okay.”
    “Unless they’re off the ship in port.”
    “Okay.”
    “Or unless you’re requested by one of them.
They get whatever they want, of course, even if it’s the company of
a particular employee for the night.”
    “For the night?” A tiny niggle of alarm
sweeps through me. Surely that doesn’t mean what it sounds like it
means.
    “Well, for the evening. Anything beyond that
is a…personal decision, not a work requirement.”
    “Oh. Okay,” I say a third time, slowly
exhaling my relief.
    “But you made one too many lefts. You
should’ve taken a left-right-left coming out of your room, not a
left-left-left.”
    “So I should go back down the stairs
and—”
    “Girl, that’s too much trouble. Just go out
that door,” he says, pointing to a larger door across the room from
where we stand, “and you’re in the bar. There will be exits leading
to the deck on your left.”
    I nod my thanks and make my way outside, even
more determined to enjoy the experience and the scenery since it
might be my only chance for a while. I’ve never been on a cruise,
or on a boat at all actually, so this is a first—but hopefully not
a last—for me.
    I walk to the furthest point on the bow of
the ship and lean into the V of the railing. The wind is warm and
brisk, the sun shines on my face as it sets and all I can hear is
the spraying sound of the wake as the boat cuts through the water.
When I turn my head and look far to the left and scan the horizon
all the way around to my right, I’m floored by how small and
insignificant I feel. As far as I can see, there is nothing visible
but miles and miles of ocean. It’s both humbling and breathtaking.
And maybe a little bit intimidating.
    I lean over the rail a bit to look down at
the front of the yacht where it stands still so far above the
surface of the water. That’s when I see them.
    I gasp. Six dolphins jump and play in the
water just ahead of the ship, as if daring the boat to touch them,
but the boat dares not.
    The orange light bounces off their pale gray
bodies, glistening brightly as they make their brave arc in front
of the yacht. With their mouths open as they squeak to one another,
it looks like they’re smiling at me as they breach the water for an
instant and then disappear two seconds later. I’m barely aware of
the delighted laugh that bubbles up in my chest and spills from my
lips.
    “Amazing, aren’t they?” a deep, familiar
voice says at my ear. Immediately, I stiffen, the smile dying from
my lips and my heart doubling its beats per minute.
    I turn