Chapter 19 - The SS Tadpole

   I enjoyed that night. Immensely. While its true, I'm rough and kinky in bed with Panic? Its not always like that. I'm more than capable of enjoying the reverse of it. Being grabbed, thrown down. Grabbed by my neck and held down. A fistful of hair to keep me there. My wrists held while I'm forced to enjoy it. I fight and give it my all, but I know I'm no match for him. I put up less and less of a fight each time, because I'm wearing out. When I finally can't muster one more attempt? Then, I get more.

   Finally, I offer myself to him. Any way. Face down, I give him my wrists. I'm trapped, and it gets rougher until it gets better. Much, much better. On my hands and knees, I bury my face in the bedclothes, to hide my red face. My knees under me, offering my behind up and to him willingly. Or thrown over something sturdy, and simply destroyed from behind.

   He doesn't have his devil he sought. But, he is on his trail. This fucking world. It can be a horrible place. But for once? Its not quite as bad as it seems. On of the rare times you peek behind the curtain? And you see something, anything that you might not hate. Some multi-billionaire, doing everything he can muster to try to make things work. How rare is that. He has an army of men like him, with him. They're trying desperately, to do what Panic and Skykid and Little Robbie... and indeed, all the men of the former Redwater Group? Couldn't do.

   Panic's not a jealous man, not really. I did it for him, first. Early in our relationship. I'd point at some girl I thought he would enjoy looking at. Whisper in his neck, the human microphone. Tell him how I would do for him later, what he imagined she could. No jealousy. I can do it back. I can get it back. Like now, for instance.

   I thought the way Panic came out as "Pa-NEEK", was cute. I don't speak French, but I can do the accent some. A little attitude with it as well. I'm spoiled. I want what I want. And I better get it. Right now. He grinned, it was a fun game. Something different. I bit his neck when we were face to face, and told him I expected him to be my little devil. I wanted it hot and passionate. With my new found and very fake bored woman of leisure attitude, and my even more fake French accent? I told him he was my diable. My little devil.

   He had rich man's cologne for this trip. The mother daughter team at the store? A musk. An earthier thinned oil, than my own extra virgin olive oil. His top layer? Vanilla. A strong one. Its definitely him, for a top layer scent. If its his choice? Air freshener, potpourri, incense... it will always be vanilla. If I want something else, I have to say something. The fact that we make love, any way but vanilla most times? A little in joke for us.

   By the time I lost the fight, and was forced to submit? Both of our expensive custom scents came out. Your pores open up during heavy sex, and mix with other scents that might be around. When I was finally face to face again, I needed something to bite and lick into his neck. Other than a very fake accent, and an ever faker affectation? What did I have. Not much. So I used that.

   "Panic...", of course. Pronounced "pah-NEEK". Then "Je ne sais quoi...", over and over again. The occasional "le bonbon", and finally "les bonbons et...". Stuck for more, I panted and heaved "diable" in husky whispers, clutching on tight. Stringing it together. Candy, from my devil. The devil, is my candy man. I got the punishment I deserved, for being such a spoiled brat of a wife. In the end, and I don't use that phrase on accident at this juncture, I got my final punishments. My ass smacked and fucked.

   He said if I wanted to be spoiled, and carry on like a cheap French whore? Then I'd get treated like one. I had to promise, that I learned my lesson. That it would never happen again. I had to swear it. I did.

   I lied.

   For breakfast? I was hungry. I had an appetite. The other spoiled wives? They pick like birds, and at a little plate of a bird's food. But I don't have their skinny little starved bodies. I have muscles. I'm not tiny, either. I can burn off calories like any person that has a muscular build. And so, I showed off how I can eat and enjoy myself.

   I wore my little one piece bathing suit. The one that had the fabric altered to run along my back muscles. We had nicknamed it "the disgrace". And really, it is shameless for me to wear it. Worse with the expensive fuck me heels. A little cropped T shirt over it. Because why not wear some cheap little rag over all that. I can do what I want.

   And what I wanted, was to show off my hard won couple of hand prints. Not like "the disgrace" would try to hide anything. We joke a shoelace would hide more of me. The girls talk, whether you know it or not. We giggle, and share. I don't do exact details, just broad sketches. Francois Verte's wife, approved. She said, in her thick accent? I am starting to get the idea. Of what, I asked. Her answer?

   "How to live, a little."

   Francois walks around with Panic some now. They have some things to discuss. It raises me in their eyes. What could be so important that Francois was spending time with the ordinary American. It reflects on me. My husband? Obviously much more important, than they realized. I shouldn't enjoy this? But, I know some part of me does. The girls are jealous, when he stopped and had me come with them. Most of the women? Not included on the men talking about important things. Well? I am. I'm not like them. He invited his wife to walk with us for one of these strolls around. She declined. She made her face.

   "Business? Is the boring, of me. Go."

   She had added a little string of French, which was obviously just for Francois. I later on our walk asked. Was it rude to wonder what had been said. It had brought a few polite giggles.

   "Mm. My wife, she says. After the business, it bores me? Go... she adds. Hurry my friend back. She does not bore me."

   He gave a polite little smile.

   "My wife? She like you."

   "Oh."

   He still had the little smile.

   "She... like you. Eh?"

   Oh. Now I get it. I think.

   "She... also likes women."

   Francois nodded.

   "I told you, she likes to, amuse herself. With the girls. It is fun for her, and. How to say it. Is, fashionable."

   Panic giggled. I blushed. Now? I'm "getting" a few of the giggles and eye rolls from the girls. Some of them know about her. I obviously didn't.

   "You are, not mad?"

   "No."

   "That, was my little clue. I was to, mention these thing. Just, in the case."

   "Tell her? Thank you, but no."

   "Is fine."

   Panic asked politely. Hinting around.

   "Oh, that. No. When I was younger? What young man, would not... enjoy to sample some of that, eh? Now? It is just for her. If I walk in on such a thing, going on? I just laugh, and give them privacy. Let her be, a little spoiled."

   I got Panic aside. Elise? Not like the cat's not out of the bag, that she travels with us. Panic agreed, but it was up to Elise. I told Francois. That Elise? Might not mind his wife helping her put oil on, for taking sun. I promised that me and Panic would explain to her, that we were done here. And... well, we promised to explain the obvious to her. Just "in the case", as he says it.

    We looked out over the water.

   "And so? We are near, to it. The last port we take, in southern Florida. We do not need it, we are well supplied from the last. But? We go closer than we need to. It will be a... short, trip. For you. You will take, my little tadpole. We will be close. You will make good time, as well as be comfortable. You can take a plane, from Miami. You will be in your New York? In no time. Hours, not days. Yuri's assistant, is waiting for you, to meet you. He says, he think he knows how to do these thing. As I said, he is very useful. It should not take too long. We will be heading, for Bermuda. The last port of call. We always stay, for days. All passengers, enjoy it the best. It is, as a paradise. I call it? My monkey island, without the monkeys. We will take our time. With luck? You can return, there. You must enjoy Bermuda."

   He gave Panic a phone. Yuri's assistant? Had his location on. Easy. Make our dot touch his dot. Then? There we are.

   "We will linger, here. The passengers? Do not care, to get another day or two. How can they complain, in such conditions, eh. We are waiting, for a little spot of the weather, to clear. A little... white, lie. I wish for you to make Bermuda, and have as much time there."

   By the time we were getting ready to leave, I was under the assumption we were getting a little jetty. Something to zip back and forth from a port in if you needed or wanted to. Even the name suggested this. The tadpole. That the "little" Green Frog would have a lot of little boats, was not at all surprising.

   What was surprising? Was seeing the SS Tadpole. It was bigger than we thought. Francois shrugged.

   "If I wish to put in, and not bother the entire boat? Is what I use. Enjoy it. I will pick it up, on the way back. Or I send men, and bring it back now."

   After Bermuda, the last port of call where they stay for several days? They turn around and go slowly back, hitting some of the same ports and others different for novelty. Down the east coat, out to international waters and back, making ports of interest. Its a long cruise.

   We stopped to see Elise before we left. She might want to go with us, and get home sooner. We found her on the captain's sun deck, with some of the other women. Our host's wife? Was putting oil all over her, as we found her. With just a hair more loving care than when one girl does it for each other. This was no, will you get my back, honey? Thanks. Elise was laying back getting a careful slathering. Polite giggles and eye rolls from the other women.

   "Elise? If you want to cut your trip short, if you're bored. You can, you know. We'll put you on a plane back."

   "Mm. You know? I think I'll just hold the fort down. Till you get back."

   "Elise?"

   "Yes?"

   "Thanks. For, you know. Taking this dangerous and thankless job. I don't know how to ever repay you."

   Elise laid back and grinned.

   "Then? Don't come back at all. Somehow? I'll manage."

   Elise winked and rolled over, all but dismissing us. Time to get the rest of her all oiled up. Her oil has sunscreen in it, so she can enjoy the sun more than would be normal for her. She's not Italian like me, and has fairer skin.

   The SS Tadpole was a little bigger than we had imagined, and two of the engine men manned it for us. Panic had a ball, learning to stand on the bridge and operate it. It was safe enough on open water, the men would take over when we got close to putting in. We came abreast of Skykid and Little Robbie, fishing.

   I couldn't help but enjoy Skykid pointing, when they figured out it was us. Panic on the bridge, yelling down. Sky couldn't help but tease Rob some. Why is Panic's, so much bigger than yours? I thought Germans were the master race, Rob. You better watch it, the Irish are pulling ahead. Rob made a show of bitching, but none of the three could keep from smiling.

   "Well? Typical. You? Off to have fun. While we do all the hard work."

   "And don't go thinking I don't appreciate it, boys. Good help? Very hard to find."

   We were anxious to get going, perhaps so close to our prize now. Maybe. Francois had given us some little gifts for the men on the boat. Who were roughing it, as he put it. Panic told them to eat, drink, and be merry. He tossed Rob a cell phone.

   "I'll take care of you, when we're done. And? A bonus. But, we're standing down. Eat, drink, be merry, Roberto. If you don't understand the concept of relaxing and having fun? Sky can demonstrate it. Enjoy the food and booze, boys. Oh. Almost forgot. Don't even bother to put in for fuel. Just text the contact, the one that says BOAT. They'll refuel you. Sky? Rob is not allowed to so much as set a foot on that boat. I'll explain when I get back."

   "And when's that, you lazy Irish bastard."

   "Couple days."

   "Where you going, anyways."

   "New York. Brooklyn."

   "The hell's there for us."

   "I gotta meet a man, about a horse. Stand down, sit, relax. You'll be in the Bahamas in a few days. Sky? Keep him on a short leash."

   Rob was suspicious, but went with it.

   "The hell's going on, anyways."

   "Rob? Told you. Things have changed. My enemy's enemy? Is my friend."

   Panic indicated with his thumb and forefinger close together.

   "I'm this close? To finishing this, once and for all."

   Rob shrugged. Sky was excited to paw through the gifts. Who but a fellow frog, would enjoy good food and wine, huh? Rob groused, but Panic knew he was kidding.

   Once we were off, towards Miami? The two engine men were talking in French. The one, spoke pretty good English. The other? Not so much. The one asked. Would not the men be more comfortable, on the big boat? They could attach, and have fun. Panic had to explain, as politely as he could. These men? Knew everything. They quickly understood.

   Six and a half feet of German farm boy kick-boxer. Former Redwater Group squad leader. Average size French billionaire, and not a particularly dangerous man, himself. And until he could sit Rob down and have a long talk with him? Well, the one with the good English grasped it quick. He explained quickly to the other one.

   The only question? Why not have that conversation now, and get it over with.

   "Because. I want to get this done. If its the last thing I do? I want this over with."

   And, what did that have to do, with the other thing.

   "If I don't handle that conversation just right? Might be the last thing I do."

   Good English got it, and explained it to the other one. I asked him how he explained it to his buddy. My answer? Roughly translated, he said.

   Discretion, is the better part of valor.

   Well? We're off now. The universe wants this. That much has been clear from the start.