The Right Man for the Job Part 4

The idea of a party boat had always appealed to me. One of the many perks of this job was the opportunity to debauch at sea on one such vessel. It was a booze cruise of sorts offered exclusively to employees. I was giddy with excitement when I first heard about it.
“I’m going,” I declared. “They got to have a buffet.”
“I think they want us to dress up,” added Darlene.
“Like a costume party?” I inquired.
“No, you dope. Dress up like try to look nice,” Darlene said.
“Hey, Eleanor. Are you going to go? You have to go. There’s going to be a buffet.”
She was filing her nails. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t like buffets?”
Darlene nudged her. “Come on. You could light up the place with a face like yours. It would be a shame to hide that in a bushel basket.” Eleanor blew at her fingers.
“It’s an open bar,” I stated. “You like alcoholic drinks. And there’s going to be a buffet.” This point was worth belaboring. Eleanor modeled her hands and studied them.
“It’ll be fun,” Darlene assured. “We could get drunk together.”
She set her file aside and halted her hands. “Fine, I’ll go.” Rapture!
I was one of the first to show up for the event that evening. My attire consisted of corduroys and a sport coat over a t-shirt. I was comparatively underdressed but there wasn’t a fashion bouncer so no ruckus resulted. Darlene’s appearance was laughable. She had white boots and a jean jacket that she wore over her flannel dress. She had a big studded belt, its large buckle displaying an engraving of a steer.
“I like your cowgirl look. It’s retro chic,” I assented.
“Thanks. I see you put a lot of thought into your getup.”
“All I need is a cane and maybe a button-down shirt and I’d look like Dr. House. Hugh Laurie’s such a badass.”
“Is Eleanor here yet?”
“I haven’t seen her.”
“You think she skipped out on us?”
“Maybe she’s already at the main event.” So Darlene and I went in search of the buffet. When we found it, I was sorely disappointed. “Are those finger sandwiches? Where’s the rack of lamb? Tell me that’s not pimento loaf.” Darlene spent the next few minutes trying to console me. Soon enough, Eleanor, healer of my woes, appeared.
She was wearing a purple cocktail dress. Her dark brown hair was unfurled and looked silky smooth. Her green eyes looked even more enticing than usual. Even her ear lobes looked luxurious, having been adorned with hoop earrings. She had a daiquiri elegantly in hand. Darlene and I were stunned by her pulchritude. She made the two of us look like bumpkins, Darlene especially, considering her choice to associate herself with rurality.
“I thought you might be here,” Eleanor greeted.
“You look dashing,” Darlene marveled.
I was a little overcome with attraction at the moment. I stuck out my hand and Eleanor shook it. I didn’t speak. I felt that if I opened my mouth, all that would emanate would be a passionate, orgasmic scream.
The yacht left the dock just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Darlene and I headed for the bar to get drinks of our own. Eleanor stayed at the buffet.
“She looks so good. She’s probably going to get hit on all night,” Darlene mentioned.
“Yeah,” I agreed. That’s what I was afraid of. I didn’t want anyone else to have a shot at her. Hoping to dissolve my fears with a strong beverage, I ordered a scotch.
“Scotch? Are you sure about that?” Darlene asked with concern.
“Of course,” I replied. I had never had scotch before, so I wasn’t really sure at all. But if it had any chance of increasing my masculinity, I was willing to give it a try.
Darlene had ordered some innocuous umbrella drink. She looked on with interest as I gripped the small glass of scotch I had received. I was only able to knock part of it back the first time. It felt like it was singeing my esophagus. Tears welled up and I coughed as my sinuses cleared.
Darlene laughed. “You’re such an idiot.”
I finished the drink and sauntered away from the bar. She followed me. We wound up back at the buffet. Eleanor was still there, now poking at a piece of fruit.
“You should eat something to absorb some of that drink, Kelso,” Darlene suggested.
I held up my hand in defiance. “They have nothing for me there,” I said, pointing with disdain at the meager buffet table.
“What did he drink?” Eleanor inquired.
“Scotch,” Darlene answered, almost scornfully.
“Why?”
“Why not?” I replied with a shrug.
“That’s a heavy one,” Eleanor attested.
“I can handle it.”
“I guess we’ll find that out. Come on, let’s go outside,” Darlene said. We did so. The outside deck wasn’t as populated as the inside. This pleased me. Less competition. The sun had finished setting and darkness was starting to fill the sky.
As we yachted along, the wind played with Eleanor’s hair, sending it this way and that. Darlene’s hair, set in its ways, remained still, only succumbing to occasional disturbances. Looking at Eleanor’s dress, I realized it revealed no cleavage, which was a shame. But it did highlight the contour of her plump paps. Not to say they were really distracting; they were reasonably sized bosoms. But they weren’t flat either. I had to fight back urges to caress her, which was quite difficult with scotch mingling with my bloodstream. I was experiencing both figurative and literal intoxication. She just looked so good.
Then, a voice proclaimed, “Hey there.” I snapped out of the trance I was in. We wheeled around to see it was Timbo who had spoken to us. “You all are looking mighty dapper this evening.” He was wearing a seersucker suit, complete with matching pocket square.
“Look who’s talking,” Darlene answered.
“How’s work treating you?” He asked us.
“It’s treating us to drinks,” I quipped. “The buffet’s a bust though.”
“He was looking forward to the buffet,” Darlene added. “Work is good.”
“How are you doing?” Eleanor asked him.
“Fabulous. I’m ready to dance. There’s going to be dancing on this ship. I’ve even got my dancing shoes on. Suede.” We looked at his shoes. They were quite swanky. “You getting ready to dance?” He pointed to Eleanor. “Can’t dress like that and not dance.”
“I didn’t know there would be dancing,” Eleanor said.
“We’ll dance,” Darlene declared. “I don’t know about Kelso though. He’s been hitting the scotch.”
“What you drinking scotch for?” Timbo demanded.
“I’m… of age.”
“Scotch is my kind of drink. Scotch a man’s drink. You a boy.”
“I wanted to try it. It looked tasty.”
“Best not make a habit of it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll save the rest for you,” I told him, winking.
Music started playing inside. Timbo said bye then scurried off to grace the dance floor with his luscious suede.
“I wasn’t planning on dancing,” Eleanor admitted.
“You just need more drinks! That’ll get your thighs a-thwacking,” I told her.
“Speaking of drinks, Eleanor, you look dry. Can I get you a refill?” Darlene offered.
“That would be great, thanks.”
“Could you get me something too?”
“No, you’re finished. You and Eleanor go inside and dance. I’ll meet you there.” She took Eleanor’s empty glass and rushed off.
Back inside, the two of us followed the music until we reached the contingent of dancers. The disc jockey was riding his musical horse. My head began to spin as my beverage took its toll. My propensity to act stupid skyrocketed. Darlene found us and handed Eleanor her drink. I crouched down and my pelvis gained a life of its own. It’s difficult for me to explain all of the details of that evening, because it’s a bit of a blur. I eventually wound up with my sport coat on backwards, flailing my arms to and fro. Any male dancer who got near Eleanor I scared off with some desperate thrusting. I vaguely remember Timbo gathering a crowd with his smooth moves. Slow dances were bizarre occurrences. Due to my palpable drunken stupor, potential partners disregarded me. I figured Darlene or Eleanor would be willing to dance with me out of pity, but I had lost both of them in the crowd. Things got ugly once grinding ensued. The undulation of people’s asses was ruthless and I was knocked around like a pinball. Some girl was flung to the ground and some other girl tripped over her. There was almost a fight. After a while, I staggered out of the madness, sweating profusely. My mouth was dry and I was dizzy. I looked for a place to sit down and saw Eleanor, like a purple beacon, seated in a designated seating area. I felt like I was falling down stairs, yet I somehow managed to slide into the seat next to her.
“How many drinks have you had?” she asked me.
“Just the one,” I panted. “How many have you had?”
“Seven.”
“What? You look… the same.” She laughed. “Where’s Darlene?”
“Still dancing.”
“Oh.” An urge came upon me. “Hey, Eleanor. I wanted to…” My better judgment was being held hostage by my scotch-saturated testosterone. “I wanted to tell you…” My eyes moved faster than my vision. Things began to conglomerate into a swirly juxtaposition. I could feel myself drifting off. Looking out the window, I saw the blurry, lit hotel against the night sky. Soon after, I had fallen asleep. I had a troubling dream about a man wearing a cape. Here’s what I remember:
“Cold cuts, boy-o! Cold cuts indeed! Yargh!”
“You monster! I wanted deli quality!”
“We all have to make compromises. Think of your mother.”
“Leave her out of this!”
Anyway, when I woke up, I saw that my head had been resting on Eleanor’s shoulder. The smell of her hair was all around. I snapped my head up, worried about something.
“Did I drool on you?”
“Don’t worry. I had a napkin nearby to catch anything.”
“How long have I been out?”
“About an hour. Hey, before you fell asleep you were going to tell me something. You left me hanging.”
That train of thought came back to the station, but I restrained myself from going through with the declaration. “I don’t remember.” It seemed like a feasible lie considering I was so befuddled. “But… an hour? And you stayed here all that time?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up by moving. I’m done dancing anyways.”
“You could have done other things, like… drink some more.”
“I wanted to stay here.”
Those words stayed with me for quite a while after that. After the yacht returned to the dock, I was drunk and happy. But because of the state I was in, I had to ride the bus home. Almost everyone on the boat drank too much, and there were several familiar faces on the ride home that night.