It damn near did. “Sin,” that is. It damn near sank the Lascivia. With a little help from someone I’d never have guessed in a million leapyears! Someone with a motive I wouldn’t have figured in a weekend-less month of Sundays!
Some time passed, however, before the words of the prophecy were translated into action. Enough time for us to put Kenya behind us, sail south down the African coast and around the horn. Starting up the coastline of South Africa, we caught a glimpse of the Cape town harbor.
The Queen William was lying at anchor there. She’d made her repairs faster than we’d hoped. The Lascivia changed course to west-by-north and proceeded full speed ahead across the open sea to Senegal.
We reached the Senegalese port of Dakar on schedule, and we sailed out promptly when our in-port time was up. The next stop would be Cannes on the French Riviera. Then New York, and the end of the cruise.
One day out of Dakar, heading for the Straits of Madeira through which we must pass en route to Cannes, we sighted the Queen William again. Her next-to-last scheduled stop was also Cannes. The two vessels were in a dead heat now, racing for the stretch.
The “stretch” was the Straits of Madeira. The two giant ocean liners couldn’t pass through the narrow channel at the same time. The second one to reach the Straits would have to line up behind the first to sail through. And the number one position insured reaching Cannes first which, because of the red tape involved in securing a berth in the busy harbor, would put the second ship hours behind before it was officially logged as “Arrived.”
So the Lascivia piled on steam in the race for the Straits. The Queen William did likewise. The two ships stayed neck and neck.
The day was cloudy. A thick fog settled over both vessels. No storm was forecast, but the sea was extremely choppy. The more speed we built up, the more sickeningly the ship rolled from side to side.
The nauseating motion took its toll of the passengers. At first there was a run on the bar, but by lunchtime the cocktail lounge was deserted. Nor had it been forsaken for the dining room. Only a handful of people showed up for the meal, and for all that they were able to force themselves to eat, the kitchen might just as well have shut down. The seasickness spread, and soon the most popular spot on the ship was the rail.
Space was at a premium there. A second row of people backed up the first, hoping someone might faint so that their place could be taken. Like a floating graveyard full of disconsolate ghosts, their groaning filled the fog. It was as if the sea below had been transformed into a vast vomitorium.
There was a run on Dramamine14 . The dispensary was mobbed. Feeling pretty queasy myself, I, too, sought relief there. But I didn’t have it in me to fight the crowd. I went back outside and settled for a deck chair far back from the rail.
I sat there, fighting my gorge, and tried to ignore the widespread upchucking. I don't know how long I’d been there when I noticed Sister Stella coming up from the dispensary and popping Dramamine pills into her mouth. Her face was the color of over-stewed asparagus.
Somehow she managed to squeeze in at the rail. Doubled over, she stayed there for perhaps ten minutes. Then she turned around, spied me, and started over to where I was sitting. There was a strange gleam in her eye. When she reached me, she grabbed her robe with both hands and pulled it open so that the entire front of her naked body was revealed to me.
“Fuck me!”
“Blu-u-u-uh!” I groaned.
“Screw me!”
‘Tm sick.” I managed to get the words out. I’d never felt less like sex.
“I’ll make you better.” Sister Stella sprawled on top of me, her flowing habit covering us both, her hands tearing at the belt securing my pants.
“Go away,” I told her, my teeth clenched to fight my nausea.
“Lay me!” She was insistent.
“You’re determined to stay a virgin,” I reminded her. “That’s what you said. Remember?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she panted.
“Why?” The question was automatic. My concentration was still on holding down my gorge.
“I don’t know. It’s an uncontrollable urge. I have to satisfy it! Right now!” She pulled down my pants and jockey shorts and maneuvered to fulfill her desire.
No way! I was limp as wilted seaweed. My stomach, in full rebellion, had taken over control of my body. My libido had been shelved for the duration.
“Fuck me!” Sister Stella tried to force the issue.
I Was too weak to fight her. I was too weak to satisfy her. So I did what any normal, red-blooded, seasick American man would do under the circumstances. I threw up all over her!
“I suppose you think that’s funny!” She was damned indignant.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Well it’s not funny at all! I’d call it a very sick joke!” Sister Stella flounced away.
I cleaned myself up and switched to another chaise longue further down the deck and downwind from the first. As my stomach subsided, I noticed Buddy Fluker standing on the landing of the stairwell leading up from the dispensary. He was washing down Dramamine pills with a glass of water.
As I watched, he set the glass down on the deck and placed his chess pegboard carefully out of the way beside it. He unzipped his fly. Then he hurtled forward in a flying tackle that caught Binny Stanford behind the knees and sent her sprawling to the deck. “Check!” Buddy Fluker yelled.
Before she could recover, he pulled up her skirt, pulled down her panties, and started to rape her.
“And mate!”
I blinked. The chessmaster was raping her all right. Not that Binny seemed to mind. . . .
Queen Nimmfetah came up the stairs from the infirmary and took Buddy Fluker’s place on the landing. She replaced the cap on a small phial of Dramamine and nicked it into the waistband of her gauzy harem trousers. Her hand slid down her belly under the semitransparent trousers and lodged between her thighs. She leaned against the bulkhead behind her, masturbated, came quickly to orgasm, swallowed another Dramamine, and immediately started to repeat the process over again.
Four men ascended and staggered past the Queen. They were passing seasickness pills among themselves. All four faces were bilious beige in color.
They clustered around a potted palm tree like the four points of a compass and threw up in clockwise sequence. First North, then East, then South, and finally West. The pills were passed around in the same order. Their groans subsided. They started back toward the card salon.
They stopped in their tracks when Blaze Buxbocks crossed their path. They stared at her. They stared at each other. North put the unthinkable into words:
“Let’s not play bridge.”
“In spades!” East agreed.
“Doubled!” South enthused.
“Redoubled!” West made it unanimous.
They fell on Blaze, tore off her clothes, and in no time at all contrived to fill three of her orifices. West was dummy and contented himself with fondling her heaving, succulent breasts. Blaze simply lay there squealing-seemingly more with delight than outrage.
Knute Summerknut came up from the dispensary. For the first time since he’d boarded the ship, the old nudists flesh had betrayed him. He came on like a charging Bengal Lancer, his lance at full tilt.
Sister Stella passed close in front of him. The lance tangled in her habit. Summerknut snorted like a bull with its horns tangled in a toreador’s cape. He ripped the garment from her body, cowl and all, and drove her to the deck.
Which is when I first learned an interesting fact about the Sisters of the Zodiac. They shaved their heads. Sister Stella was bald as a defrocked cue ball!
It added to the unreality of the panorama unfolding before my eyes. The scene was a nautical fantasy of a Roman orgy. It was a phantasmagoria of people throwing up, fondling themselves and each other, popping seasickness pills, sprawling in bizarre, erotic groupings, shoving their fingers down their throats or up whatever was handy, the men wielding erections like clubs, the women spreading themselves like lawns waiting to be seeded, girls playing with girls, men stabbing at men, heterosexuality, homosexuality, oral sexuality, anal sexuality, sexuality of every conceivable variety! It had spread over the ship like wildfire. Seasick sex was everywhere!