Christmas Eve 7

"I don't want to be alone on Christmas Eve, Peter."

Even when you're anchored off Rio de Janeiro with 600 college students on a round-the-world cruise, going to bed alone on Christmas Eve is not attractive. This junior faculty member shared her feelings.

I had a slight buzz on, from a single beer. The girl I was talking to was nice, a decent conversationalist, and slightly drunker than I, though coherent. I did not, on the other hand, know her name or anything about her.

"Me neither."

"Okay, Peter, let's go to your cabin."

Tomorrow I had a "date" with Joy Grosso. I was infatuated with Joy, a third-generation Italian girl from the California wine country who had the deepest olive complexion, black hair down to her ass, and a wonderful full mouth.

However, my infatuation was unrequited. She was head-over-heels in love with her boyfriend back at San Francisco State, even though she hadn't heard from him since early September, when she left for New York to join the cruise.

Still, she had agreed when I suggested we take a Christmas morning stroll on Ipanema Beach. We were to meet at Posto 9, the famous lifeguard station, at 9 a.m.

We got to my cabin and quickly undressed. I pulled her to me and she pulled my ass to her and ground her hips into me. We kissed and I leaned against the cabin door and lifted her up so that her opening was at the tip of my cock. She was really breathing heavily.

"Do it, Peter, do it to me," she said.

I had just started to move her down onto my cock when she twisted away.

"Can we do it in bed? It's better that way for me." She grabbed my cock and we slid into my bunk.

The alcohol had made her frisky but now it was making her sleepy. She soon lost interest in the foreplay.

"Fuck me, Peter, I want to be fucked by you." She ostentatiously opened her legs for me, an invitation I could not resist. At first we didn't have the best positioning, so she shifted and it was in. I had to do most of the work as the alcohol had done its on her. She bucked against me, said "Fuck me, Fuck me Peter" a couple of times, and was lying there exhausted when I came. We fell asleep.

I woke up before my alarm clock rang, dressed quickly, and closed the door quietly. I was down the gangway that led to the docks and the taxis without seeing a soul.

Joy arrived at Posto 9 a few minutes after I did. We walked hand-in-hand along the beach, which was initially deserted. By noon it was jammed. We sat beside each other in the midst of the crowd and talked. About her boyfriend.

"Peter, he's so nice. We've been together for almost a year. We just click."

"Why didn't he come on with you on the voyage?"

"He said we were spending too much time together. At first I was angry and afraid that he was breaking up with me, but he said he loved me and wants us to get married after we graduate, in June of next year."

"Do you want to?"

"I think so, but . . . "

"But?" I encouraged.

"I know where you're trying to take this conversation, but it won't work. I don't think we're too young for this commitment. We're juniors, so we can develop our interests and see if it will last."

"I don't mean to be crude, but are you, uh, sexually compatible?"

"You are crude! And it's none of your business!"

"No, it isn't, of course, but I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because I really like you and would like us to be together, at least for a little while."

"Look, Peter, I'll tell you the truth. He and I sleep together whenever we can. I can't get enough of him. He's got a demanding schedule as an engineering major and has to study constantly, so it isn't as often as I would like. But the sex is great."

I was defeated. If I couldn't get her interested in me after she had been alone for almost four months, there wasn't anything I could do. I'd been my blunt self about asking, and I'd been rebuffed. We changed the subject and eventually walked back to the bus stop and returned to the ship.

When I got back to my cabin the bed was unmade, which was unusual since the staff always had it done by 10 a.m.

There was a large blood spot on the sheets, and on top of it was a note.

"Does he or doesn't he? Only his maid knows for sure."