Beneath the surface 14

That evening Robert invited Marrissa and I to the Officer’s bar. It was a gesture of welcome in terms a drink,
“Just so you both know… You are not allowed in here unless you are invited by an officer. Since I am manager I am officer status and have the right to invite you inside. Since I am of an officer’s rank I also get to eat in the officer’s mess, so does Jose because he is the Assistant Manager. You two will eat in the standard mess because you are not officers you fall into the bracket of crew or as I like to call you ‘minions.’ The food for the officers is much better and we get to interact with the higher levels of management,’ said Robert smugly. “So what would you like to drink?”
Wanker!
Actually not just wanker! Fat wanker!
Hierachy and ego on ship is rife. A strong patriarch rules and rather than high five each other they bash dicks (actually I made up the last part!) There are strict guidelines of what you can and can’t do according to your rank. If you break a rule you are disciplined, which can mean more IPM or less priviledges.
So there we are in the officer’s bar, a dark wooden room with green velvet seats and silence. A bit of looking around and more silence. To the right of me two Russian officers play darts on a rolling ship while they drink vodka - was that health and safety? I had that image of a dart landing in Marrissa’s bottom creep into my mind. I had to hold back the smirk. I think I have become obsessed by the bottom but the truth is I am sitting quite far away from the others because the bottom is now spread out… God what I bitch I am but it seems to be creeping along the seat.
I glanced over at Jose, who obviously wanted to leave and be with his girl friend. In fact he wanted to be anywhere but there. He looked like he had a smell under his nose and was like the little boy who had been forced to be there. Robert, in the mean time broke the silence and talked endlessly about how great he was. I would give you the details but I was consumed by the image of bottoms with darts decorating them. Then for some reason the image of a porcupine wandered through my mind. I must have been tired. When I did switch into the conversation Robert purposely revealed he was desperately searching for a woman to hide the sausage with. I guessed he would have to find his sausage to then re-hide it. Or maybe he had hidden his sausage with himself.
I glanced at Marrissa who sat with her arms folded swinging her leg and staring at her shoe. It was apparent she was in a strop with me about the top bunk. Did I care? No I was having another realisation: I had made the biggest mistake of my life. Brilliant!
All of the above combined made the perfect ingredients for an evening of fun.
“So Marrissa have you worked on ships before?” asked Robert.
“Yeysss,” she replied.
She understood! Or did she?
“What would you like to drink?” he asked.
“Yeysss,” she said.
I gestured drinking action.
Robert watched curiously but remained silent.
“Cocacola light,” she said.
“Marrissa… what did you do on the other ship?” he asked.
“Marrissa take photo,” she said.
It was a miracle… I am so proud!
Robert sighed and studied her.
“What do you think of your cabin?” he asked.
“Yeysss.”
Jose glanced at Marrissa and spoke to her in Spanish.
“She thinks it is very small and she has the top bunk, that makes her very sad,” said Jose with obvious disinterest.
Robert glanced at Jose and then at me. We knew what he was thinking.