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The ship was rocking horribly, and I could hear the wind and the sea battering the walls of my tiny cabin. I remembered father had told me at supper to prepare for a fierce storm. He had recommended I eat lightly, as the sea would be rough. In defiance I had eaten more than my fill, and now I regretted my rebelliousness. My stomach heaved and suddenly I hastened from the bed and managed to position myself on my hands and knees over my washbasin. I left the remains of my dinner there and retreated. The smell was horrible and the ship had not ceased its violent rocking. In a fury I left my cabin to tell my father I would not tolerate such treatment--he had better order the captain to control the ship. Up on deck was a maze of activity. The wind and rain and waves all blended together and through the darkness I vaguely saw men climbing and running every direction, shouting and cursing. I was shocked to hear the men speak like this, but in truth I could barely hear as the fierce wind. When Fran finished, she tilted the chair back so that my head was over the sink behind us. She put a small cloth over my face. “Here; hold this, Ben, so the shampoo won’t get in your eyes,” she said. I held the cloth with both hands. “By the way, Ben, Marcie does a special massage, if you’re interested,” said Fran. “She trying to make extra money working her way through barber school.” As Fran was telling me this, I felt Marcie flip the bottom of the apron up to my waist. Then I felt her hands sliding slowly up the insides of my thighs. By the time one of her hands touched my cock, it was hard and I knew what kind of massage she had in mind. I cleared my throat and tried to sound professional when I answered. “I’m always willing to help a student earn money.” Then my focus began switching between Fran’s knowing fingers massaging my scalp with the shampoo, relaxing me, and the hands that had opened my pants and pulled them and my briefs down to my knees. The circulating cool air.
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