First Meeting from Rebound by Dellani Oakes

Tom Wilcox is a player of the first order. He didn't intend to be, he just fell into it. However, he'd like to change, and going on a cruise with his parents is a step in that direction. While on board the ship, he happens upon a very special lady.

On the evening of our second day, I was walking back to my room when I heard someone crying. One of the young women ,who worked on the ship, stood in a dark corner, bawling her eyes out. Being the sympathetic guy I am, I stopped to talk to her.

"Hey, you okay?"

She sniffled and gulped, wiping her eyes with a paper towel. I happen to carry a handkerchief. No clue why, I guess my mom insisted at some point in my life. I handed it to her. She thanked me with a nod and a gulp.

"What's up?" I asked. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be so miserable."

Shaking her head, she snuffled and sniffled.

"Boyfriend trouble?"

She nodded, hiccuping.

"Let me guess. He pressured you until you gave it up. Then he bastard dumped you."

"Yes! How did you know?" she gasped.

"Lots of experience with tearful women." I wiped her cheeks with the handkerchief and gave it back to her. "Were you experienced before he came along?"

She shook her head.

"What a dick. Not all men are bastards," I commented.

She flung herself at me, sobbing on my chest. She continued to cry, pounding me with her fists. I held her, smoothed her hair and talked quietly.

"I'm not supposed to fraternize with the guests," she said after a time.

"What fraternizing? We're talking, you're crying."

She giggled tearfully. "You're really nice, Tom."

"Don't let it get around," I teased. "You'll put a shine on my tarnished reputation. You feeling better now?"

She nodded, handing me the handkerchief.

"Keep it," I offered. "I've got more."

Impulsively, she kissed me. Horrified by her own behavior, she ran off. I thought about following her, but some other workers came by, so I let her go. I went to my room and watched TV. Tired of that, I went to bed.

The next morning, I saw the girl, Maris, at breakfast. She was serving tables. She looked like she'd been crying again. Her nose was pink and her eyes were puffy. I tried to catch her eye, but she pointedly ignored me. I didn't want her to get in trouble, so I left it alone figuring she'd find me if she wanted to talk.

My parents were taking a salsa dancing class and convinced me to go. After breakfast, we went to the dance studio and waited for the instructor. Turned out to be some Latin guy and Maris was his partner. I figured he was the ex because she could hardly stand to have him touch her.

I was paired up with some lady old enough to be my grandma, when Maris spotted me. She tried to smile, but couldn't maintain eye contact. The old lady didn't miss it.

"Do you know her?"

"Not really. I talked to her a little while last night." I shrugged, taking the old girl in my arms.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I've danced most of my life."

"You a fag?"

I chuckled, tossing my head. "No, ma'am. Mom's an instructor with her own studio. I've partnered her since I was twelve."

"Then why are you taking a class?"

"Because my mother told me to." I laughed when she made a rude noise at me.

Maris and her partner showed us what we'd be doing, a simple combination, something I could do with my eyes closed. The old lady and I were jammin' when the guy walks over and cuts in, leaving Maris on her own. I offered my hand and she took it.

"You dance really well," she said quietly.

"Thanks." I explained briefly.

Nodding, she spun away. I pulled her back, taking her in my arms. We danced with our hips barely touching, though she wouldn't look me in the eyes.

"That's the guy?" I murmured as my fingers traced the line of her body.

She said nothing, glaring at me instead. That's a yes.

"I'd offer to beat him up, but I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Maris smiled, laughing for the first time. "He's not even much of either. You could probably take him easy."

"I'll Baryshnikov his ass." I guess I should mention, to my shame, I've also taken ballet.

Maris laughed again, tossing her black hair as I spun her once more. Her dress was dark red and flowed around her like liquid sex. It was making me hot just being close to her. Salsa dancing is very sensual. There's lots of touching, holding, seducing one another with your moves. Usually, I can control myself, but I'd never partnered anyone like Maris.

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