She took care to put on a minimal amount of make-up. She'd heard, by word of mouth, that her date hated women who looked more like working girls than female escorts. She decided that gold eye shadow would bring out her dark chocolate eyes and make her cocoa colored skin glow. She delicately traced the outline of her full mouth with a rose colored pencil before applying the base that would accent it. She had opted to curl her ebony hair instead of the usual wave she would have preferred but tonight was not about her. It was all about her customer. And what the client wanted, the client got. She blotted her lips twice and decided that was enough.

Pushing away from her vanity she made her way to the closet for phase two: the apparel. Her gut told her to go with the short red number her ex-husband had picked out, knowing full well it would get more attention than she would. But her professional side knew the moderately form fitting black dress was more appropriate.

Her gut won out.

Grabbing for the red silk chiffon she made her way to the bathroom. Shimmying into the outfit had proven to be more of a workout than she had remembered. Once the garment was in place she adjusted the straps and made an assessment of her enlarged chest. She ran an experimental hand over the front of the dress and looked at herself in the mirror. The new body she had acquired in the last few months met her immense approval. She couldn't remember a time when her breasts had been so full or her hips so voluptuous.

She turned to examine her backside as well.

"Damn." She concluded in a whisper.

With one more evaluation of her attire she turned off the bathroom light and grabbed her matching pumps. When the doorbell rang at 8 o'clock sharp she knew the night was going to be anything but eventful.

Opening the door to a chauffeur confirmed her previous assumption.

"The limo is waiting ma'am." A middle aged man in a black tuxedo said.

She nodded and took one last cleansing breath before following the man out the door.

****

The car ride was silent. She had never known a client to be so reserved in her line of work. Most men were mistaken in what she actually did and would try to have their way with her. But this man was abnormally quiet. She watched him intently-sure that he knew he was being watched by her. She examined his shaved head and long dark eye lashes. His skin was a few shades darker than her own, giving her the impression that he may have a Haitian background. His fingers were long and boney which fit the description of his profile.  

Damian Waterston was his name. What she knew of him was that he was a 36 year old widower with no children and no family to speak of. She'd done her own research and found out that he was a well-known artist with a few exhibits on display in various prestigious galleries on the east coast. Tonight was the premier of a new collection he was presenting to be auctioned off at a banquette in his honor. She was humbled by the fact that all the proceeds would go to women's breast cancer research.

She decided that she'd had enough of his quiet demeanor. "Are you nervous for tonight?"

Damian turned in her direction, not sure if he'd heard her. He looked almost astonished that she'd even spoken at all. He cleared his throat to answer her. "On the contrary, I'm excited for tonight. I love when I get to display my art work for the masses."

She could tell he enjoyed what he did by the slight smile that graced his face when he spoke of his art. She'd remember seeing the same smile on the face of her ex-husband when he would describe a job he had landed and all the details that needed to be worked out.

Shaking the memory from her head she continued to probe Damian for more information. "Were you always interested in art? I mean, did you pop from the womb loving it or what?"

He had to chuckle at her. "Um, I think I've always had a knack for it. I remember my teachers always telling me how much more developed my stick figures were for a child my age."

She full out laughed and knew the tension between them had faded away. Finally the car door opened and they were both ushered onto a dock.

A dock?

She looked around, observing people dressed to kill. Diamonds and furs hung from the necks of dignified but stuffy looking women. The men, she noted, looked ready for the cover of GQ but were equally as stuck on themselves.

One woman in particular caught her eye. She could have identified the sparkling piece around her neck from a mile away. The woman's black fur coat seemed to make the jewels around her neck look almost like hot ice-untouchable but not unattainable.

She began to feel a familiar tingling in her belly. She knew the feeling all too well and fought to suppress it as she was led onto the massive ship and into the banquette hall.

"Wow! This is...is...wow!" She was left utterly speechless by the paintings lining the cream colored walls. "You did all of these?" There were at least ten paintings on each wall, making it hard for her to believe he'd done them all. People had gathered around several of the paintings to marvel at the young talent.

Damian bowed his head in embarrassment and grinned. "Yes ma'am. Each one came at different points in my life. Some happy and others...not so much."

She knew what point in his life he was likely referring to. She placed a hand on his upper arm in comfort and smiled up at him reassuringly. He stared back at her with more intensity than she had ever felt. Feeling slightly awkward she took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed him one.

"To a wonderful night" She toasted, but before she could take a drink he added, "And to wonderful company."

She blushed and took the arm he offered her to be escorted to their reserved table.

****

All night she'd had the unnerving feeling that someone was breathing down her neck. She attempted light conversation with Damian throughout the night, trying to sound interested in his explanation of each one of his paintings but the feeling wouldn't go away. She would turn her head every so often hoping to catch the eyes she knew were watching her.

 Having had enough of being unnerved and feeling her bladder ready to explode, she politely excused herself to the restroom while she let Damian continue his dialogue with interested observers.

Five minutes later, she was lost.

She had concluded this by the nonexistent sounds of the banquette hall. No bustling of conversation. No glasses clanging together in cheer. No nothing. She sighed in frustration and racked a hand through her curls.  

"Where the fuck is the bathroom!" She stomped her heel. "You'd think with a ship the size of the damn Titanic they'd put up a sign or two. But nooo! I might just pee right here to teach these fools a lesson."

With an evil smirk she began to hike up her skirt but before she could get a finger hooked into the waistband of her panties a hand latched onto her arm and pushed her against the wall forcefully.

"Devin."

Anger boiled deep within her at the sound of the, all too familiar, voice. "Jesse?" Her assumption was confirmed when cobalt orbs glared down at her. Irritation burned bright in his eyes but his grip loosened some.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Devin wrenched her arm away and pushed him back. "What do you mean, ‘what the hell am I doing here?' What the hell are you doing here?" She pointed a finger and glared back at him with equal irritation.

"I asked you first damn it. And what the fuck are you wearing?" Jesse took a minute to survey her attire. He remembered the skin tight dress all too well. He'd bought it for her to show off her gorgeous legs but they were supposed to be for his eyes only-she was supposed to be for his eyes only. What he hadn't remembered, though, were the new assets she'd acquired.

Rolling her eyes, Devin surveyed him as well. In the last few months since their divorce the boy had bulked up some, she thought. His shoulders were more broad though his body seemed just as lean. He had cut his strawberry blond hair but his skin remained the same olive complexion she remembered. And his eyes, though they held irritation at the moment, were as beautiful as ever.

Shaking her heard free of her reverie, she observed his attire. His black Nikes, black slacks and black turtle neck told her all she needed to know about what he was doing on the ship but she inquired anyway.

"Are you on a job?"

"Why else would I be dressed like the fucking Grim Reaper?"

Scoffing in annoyance she began to stomp away from him and proceeded to tell him exactly where he could reap. "Okay, first of all you need to stop curs--" But once again she was shoved against the cool wall.

"Stop that!" Devin whispered harshly and tried struggling away. Jesse's hand came in contact with her throat and let his index finger linger on the spot where he could feel her racing pulse. Her breathing had picked up in the semi-struggle making her breasts thrust out in perfect view.

Jesse took the opportunity to take a peek at the exposed skin. "When did you get these?" He asked while using his free hand to trace a finger over her soft mounds. He smirked when she slapped his hand away.

"I didn't go and get a boob job if that's what you're asking." Feeling stripped under his gaze she began to struggle again. Finally gaining leverage, she pushed him until he hit the floor, hard. She took this as her chance to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He groaned as she straddled his waist and got nose to nose with him. "And even if I did, it's none of your business." Devin pushed the curls from her face and continued. "As a matter of fact, I'm none of your business anymore either so why don't you just--ow!"

Hooking an arm under her thigh, Jesse counterbalanced the weight switching their positions. With a triumphant smirk he sat on her stomach with his arms crossed over his chest. "Now that I have your attention, what are you doing here Devin?"

"None of your business, asshole. Now, get off of me!" She bucked her hips in hopes of knocking him off but to no avail. On the brink of exhaustion Devin gave up. "Jesse, really, get off of me." She said out of breath.

"Not until you tell me what you're doing here looking like that."

"I'm on a job of my own, okay? Now, get the fuck off me! You're crushing my goddamn liver!"

"Not until you--" That was all Jesse got out before Devin riled back her fist and made contact with the firm area of his stomach. Pushing him off seemed easier with the pain she had inflicted. Devin stood and began to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress.

Still dusting herself off, she spoke. "See, this is why our marriage didn't work. You never listen to me and--fuck Jesse!"

Devin was becoming quite acquainted with the wall as Jesse shoved her into it again.

"Did I mention you don't listen?" She asked dryly.

"Shut up! Do you hear that?" She listened intently for a second and turned back to her ex-husband with boredom written all over her face.

"Yeah, I hear your girly scream of bloody murder the next time you shove me against this wall."

Jesse rolled his eyes and continued to listen. "Fuck! Someone's coming. You didn't see me, got it?" He instructed and proceeded to leave the way he'd come in. He jumped up into an opening in the ceiling where a tile had been removed. He did a chin up and began the process of wiggling into the small area.

Devin watched in amazement as he pushed his body into the confines of the enclosed space she hadn't noticed until now. She heard the sound of approaching footsteps and began to walk in the direction but not before Jesse's voice called to her.

"Devin!" She turned back. "Remember, nobody was here." He whispered while peeking his head out of the opening.

"Nobody is an overstatement." Devin snickered when he threw her an unsightly hand gesture.

"Devin? Devin is that you?" She turned in the direction of her name being called and watched as Damian jogged toward her with a concerned look on his face.

Devin put on a fake smile. "Yeah it's me. I got lost." She quickly glanced toward the ceiling, noticing every tile was in its place as if Jesse hadn't just wiggled his way up there a second ago.

****

Devin twitched in her seat. She couldn't get the thought of Jesse's hands on her again out of her head. It had been so long since she had been touched by those hands-so soft and warm, sometimes forceful but always gentle. She shuddered and took a cleansing breath.

The night was almost over and the ship was ready to dock. Many of Damian's paintings had been sold to all those stuffy looking folks she knew were whispering about her. She had to be the only person under the age of 30 on the entire ship which left her without conversation--at least conversation she was really interested in.

"I just love that dress. Why, if I were 30 years younger I would be asking you where you got your outfit from." An older lady close by commented. Devin had barely heard her while in her daydream state.

"Oh, well, thank you." She looked down are her garment and made a move to pull up the material to cover her over baring cleavage.

"I must inquire though. Where did you get your work done?"

Devin choked. "Excuse me?"

She watched as the woman scooted closer to her and it wasn't until then that she noticed the grey roots that were beginning to come in under the black dye of her hair. Her skin was a creamy white and not smooth due to the wrinkles under her eyes and cheeks.

"Oh come on honey. You can tell me." She winked in a way that Devin did not take as friendly.

"I didn't have any work done. I had a--" Her sentence was cut short by a blood curdling scream.

She swiveled her head and tried to catch a glimpse of the owner of the scream. She recognized the woman from before with the black fur coat speaking animatedly to security on the ship. The woman's hand went to her throat, which was now void of the necklace.

Devin's eyes widened. "Jesse." She whispered with her teeth clenched. She could feel her body heat up and she fought to keep from storming from the banquette hall.

"What was that sweetie? You had a Jesse? Is that some new type of cosmetic surgery?"

Fed up, Devin stood and whipped her head toward the woman with fire burning in her dark eyes. "I did not have fucking surgery." She fingered the table absently, for something to throw or hold on to. When her hand landed on a complimentary piece of cake, she smiled sweetly. "But you're about to get a facial." With that, Devin gently shoved the sugary desert into the woman's face.

Ignoring the woman's curses and the announcement that everyone was to stay in the vicinity, she made her way toward the exit in search of the idiot ex-husband of hers.

Devin walked through a long corridor and somehow found herself on the deck. She inhaled the warm air and caught a whiff of familiar male cologne. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"We did always have an eye for the same pieces."

"It seems we do."

Devin turned, startled. "Damian? I didn't realize it was you. I thought you were--"

"Jesse?" Her eyebrows lifted in confusion.

"How did you--"

His smile was anything but inviting as he stepped closer. "Oh Devin, I know all about you sweetheart. I know you were eyeing that necklace as well."

Devin began to back up until her back hit the railing. She turned and looked down at the dark water below before bringing her attention back to him. "What the fuck is this Damian?" She demanded.

"How do you think I came by all this?" He gestured around him. "An operation needs funding baby."

Before she knew it he was in her face pointing the barrel of a gun at her. She whimpered as the cool metal trailed down her cheek. "Where is it Devin? I know you are working with him. Just tell me where it is."

"I don't know!"

"Wrong answer." He whispered and let his index finger squeeze the trigger slowly.

"Damian!" The couple turned to find Jesse standing with his own gun pointed in their direction. Feeling faint Devin gripped onto the railing for dear life.

"She has nothing to do with this. I have what you want motherfucker." He held up a black bag and let it dangle in the air.

Damian's eyes gleamed with excitement. This gave Devin the opportunity to knee him in the gut and make a grab for the gun. Jesse took the struggle as his cue to make a run at Damian.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Devin watched limbs fly and heard the cracking of bone as punches were thrown and connected. She noticed in horror that they were inching closer to the edge of the ship. Her heart stopped when both bodies flew over the side and disappeared.

"Jesse!" She ran toward the edge and looked over to see him dangling with one arm. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? You fucking idiot!" She grabbed for one arm and began to help drag him back over the railing.

"Would you just shut the fuck up? God, no wonder we didn't work out. You talk so damn much." He took a breath looked over the edge for any sign of his counterpart. Devin came up beside him and did the same.

"Where's Damian?" She could see ripples in the water, where something had dropped but no hint of anything coming back up.

"Gone, I guess."

They sat in silence for a moment before Jesse took another deep breath and stepped away. "Well, I'll be seein' ya." He began to walk away unaware of the shock on Devin's face.

"Um, excuse me? We were almost killed over a fucking necklace!" She screamed in exasperation flailing her arms. Jesse turned back to her in confusion while wiping the blood from his mouth.

"Yeah, a necklace that is now in the fucking ocean." He mumbled to himself. "We don't have anything between us Devin. Go home."

"We have a baby you bastard!" He started away again and abruptly stopped at her words.

A...a baby?

Jesse blinked. "A ba--what?"

"Where do you think these damn boobs came from? Everyone seems to think the only way a girl can come by a great rack is if she's gone under the knife. Well news flash bitches, pregnancy has the same effects, only it's free."

Still dumbstruck he stood and listened. His head began to feel light and his eyes made the journey to the back of his head as his world went black.

Devin watched in amusement as her soon-to-be-again husband hit the hard wood deck.