The continuing tale of a woman who escapes her nowhere life by traveling the world of imagination.
“May I say you look lovely this evening, Mrs. Maya?” exclaimed Pino, leaning in far too closely as he placed a dinner roll on her plate.
Pino was the headwaiter at Maya’s table aboard the luxury cruise ship, MS Diversion. An Italian George Clooney with a bedazzling grin, Pino’s coy glances had seemingly evolved into outright flirtation.
Maya was traveling on what’s known as a “FAM” trip to familiarize her with the ship, a perk of working in the cruise line’s reservations department. Somehow, she had scored a suite, and invited her friend, Spencer, to share in the spoils.
Word travels fast aboard a cruise ship — who’s single, who’s gay, who’s sleeping with whom — and by the second day of the voyage most everyone on board knew that, while Spencer and Maya were sharing a room, they definitely were not a couple. By that evening, Pino was ready to pounce.
“Thank you, Pino,” Maya replied, quivering at his warm breath on her neck. “That’s Ms., by the way. I’m not married.”
“What? A woman so beautiful not married? What is wrong with the men in your country? In Italy, you wouldn’t last five minutes.”
Maya laughed freely, a broad smile lighting up her cherub face. Realizing that everyone else at the table was looking at them, she lowered her eyes and pulled at her roll.
“What was that?” Spencer whispered.
“Oh, nothing,” Maya murmured back.
“Uh huh. Looked like something to me. But then, what do I know about heterosexual mating rituals?”
Maya jabbed her elbow into Spencer’s ribs as Pino delivered her French onion soup.
“Here, we don’t want any of this to get on that beautiful dress,” Pino said, picking Maya’s napkin up off her lap and tucking it into her rather low neckline. She glanced at Spencer, who raised his eyebrows and blew on his spoonful of soup.
By the time the main course arrived, Maya was a bit nervous about Pino’s next move. Luckily, conversation was lively around the table, and no one seemed to notice as Pino reached around either side of her, picked up her fork and knife, and cut into her rosemary chicken.
“Here, taste, it is delicious,” he said, holding a piece up to her mouth.
Maya gingerly took the piece in her mouth, nibbling slowly as she glanced toward Spencer, who rolled his eyes.
“What?” she asked, swallowing.
“Oh, nothing,” Spencer replied, provocatively chewing on his own mouthful.
Maya gulped at her glass of wine and took another bite for food, her lips curling knowingly.