Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“She is a heartless, faithless harpy and I don’t care if she’s homeless and penniless,” Alcina Dimitrescu stated plainly into her cell phone as she tried to settle down into the comfortable First Class seat of the Dreamliner 737, “she should have thought about all of that before she got into bed with that filthy excuse for a man. You do realize she was inviting him into my bed – my bed! No, she deserves what she gets.”

Her former lover and best friend, Miranda, cooed something back to her and Alcina huffed and sighed as she angrily tucked a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear.

“I – look, I am going away for a while, and I wanted someone to know. I am not updating anyone else but my assistant and you. So, consider yourself fortunate,” she continued, fidgeting with the seat and absentmindedly touching and trying to understand the various buttons in her individual pod, “I booked a European cruise and I won’t be back for a few weeks-“

She flinched at Miranda’s furious response.

“I don’t need your permission to go on a vacation, Randie,” she replied coolly, “I do not need anyone’s approval. All I want is for someone to know that I haven’t vanished into the night never to return again.”

She listened to Miranda, but as she was now finally settled into her seat she also looked up and watched the other passengers as they slowly made their way down the aisle presumably toward the business and economy class seats on the plane. They were just standard people; parents and their children, older couples, a few soldiers in uniform, and as the groups shuffled by, she couldn’t help but take note of a young woman with medium length auburn hair. The woman was dressed very casually, in loose fitting jeans, a t-shirt, dark denim jacket, and equipped with a bag on her back. Alcina knew she shouldn’t stare, but she kept looking back over. The woman was pretty with an open and kind face, a slender build, and curvaceous hips.

She continued to listen to Miranda prattling away in her ear, going on and on about how inconsiderate Alcina was to not discuss her plans and being so self-interested – she had been set on some random ‘girl’s night’ or some such nonsense. Alcina was half listening, she was distracted by the young woman. She had seen several very attractive women walking by with their husbands, their friends, their children, but this young woman didn’t seem to be traveling with anyone else.

She wasn’t exactly Alcina’s type, but for whatever reason, Alcina kept looking back over to her as she slowly walked along the aisle. As she neared Alcina’s pod, the woman looked up and noticed her. Her bright green eyes met Alcina’s gaze, and she offered Alcina a small, polite smile. Alcina blinked and then looked away – just to look back again, almost impulsively, but the woman kept moving with the flow of people, her bag grazing Alcina’s shoulder as she moved past her.

Miranda’s complaining grew in volume and one specific question forced Alcina to pay attention to her once more. This time with anger. For a moment, she forgot where she was and who was around her.

“No, no – fuck her – she doesn’t need to know anything. All of her things are out of my condo, and I’ve changed the locks,” she said viciously, “If I need to, I will ask Karl to come and stay while I’m away just to insure she doesn’t get in when I am not present.”

Miranda squawked in surprise.

“Yes, exactly,” Alcina continued, “It’s that bad. I would rather have my fucking low-life brother and his disgusting friends in my condo before I would ever let that bitch darken my doorstep ever again. Believe me, Randie, if you help her, I will never forgive you.”

A stunned query.

“Never. I have to go, we’re taking off. I will text you when we land and when I get on the boat. No, I will not call you every day,” she continued plainly, “I am using this time to disconnect and not think about my life for a while. I will text you – bye for now.”

There was another squawk, but Alcina ignored it. She ended the call and looked at her phone. Over an hour – she’d been on that call for over an hour and never once did Miranda ask her how she really was. It was all about that harlot and how Alcina had not been fair. She had no idea what skin Miranda had in this game, but she was always like this. If she liked who Alcina was involved with she defended them like her own life depended on it – but of course, if she disliked the person, it was a completely different experience.

Alcina sighed and settled back into her padded seat. It was comfortable and apparently it would lie flat so she could sleep, but her primary desire was for a space where she could sit comfortably. Most seats on a plane were reasonable for an average sized person, but Alcina was far from average. At well over six and a half feet tall with broad hips and equally broad shoulders, she rarely fit in most places.

She watched the safety video, sipped at her welcome drink, a delicious Cabernet, and tried to relax. She wanted to just empty her mind and let go of the stress. Between her job, her friends, and her now ex-fiancée – she rarely had much time to herself. She booked the cruise on a whim, an expansive suite that could sleep a whole family, and it had cost her a pretty penny. While Alcina was always willing to spend more to have the best, she had been hard pressed as this was the only space left for her dates. She was so rarely impulsive, it was understandable that Randie thought she had lost her mind. Alcina sighed and smirked to herself as she finished the wine, buckled her seat belt and prepared for take-off.

She closed her eyes and, unbidden, she saw the young woman with the red-brown hair in her mind’s eye. She was rather pretty and thoughts about how the younger woman’s full, pert breasts would feel in her hand crashed into her mind; soft and silky-smooth skin, cool to the touch but growing warm with excitement as the nipple pebbled under her slow-moving palm.

Alcina chided herself for being so crude before she could fall too deep into her fantasy, but such thoughts were part of her nature and at this time of her life, well into her thirties, she realized that there was no sense in being ashamed of them. She had always had a “roving eye”, but when she made a commitment to another person – she meant it. Again she felt that dull throb in her chest and the weight of what had happened – what the supposed ‘love of her life’, her ‘partner’ had done to her – settled heavy on her chest again as she felt the pull of gravity. The plane was ascending into the sky and tears were welling up behind her eyelids. She didn’t want to cry – she wasn’t going to cry – instead she let the roaring of the engines drown out those thoughts. She sniffled and straightened herself in her seat. She had cried enough over her – never again.

After another few moments the plane began to level out and her ears popped unpleasantly, she opened her eyes to see that the seatbelt lights were off. She shrugged the belt off and ordered another glass of wine. Soon, she would be on the other side of the planet – as physically removed from her problems as possible – and she was determined to enjoy herself.

She would eat well, drink full, and pleasure as many women as would have her.

A few hours later, she grew restless and decided to visit the First Class restroom. An airplane restroom was always an exercise in patience and flexibility for one such as herself. She ducked into the little stall and (carefully) did what was necessary. Then straightening up, nearly to her full height, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her usual attire, a black-on-black tailor-made pant suit that accentuated her curves and a full face of makeup, but her long dark curls were wilder than normal. She’d not bothered as much as she would normally to try and tame them. She tousled her hair and sighed, annoyed that her trademark perfection was tarnished due to frustration and irritation.

She opened the door and was met with the young woman she’d seen boarding earlier.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” Alcina responded.

She stood motionless for a moment. Somewhat shocked. The woman smiled sheepishly and Alcina’s mind went blank. She hated it when that happened, though to be fair, it had not happened since she was in high school. She was out of practice.

“The restrooms at the back are occupied,” the woman said, her voice was calm and rather pleasant with an unidentifiable accent. She was American, but there was no telling from what part of the country she’d originated. She didn’t sound local to the city from which they had left.

Alcina’s brain finally engaged, and she smiled back, realizing awkwardly that for this woman to use the stall she would need to extricate herself. She grimaced and ducked out of the stall as gracefully as she could. She glided by the other woman and retook her seat. Once she was settled again she looked at her darkened phone and saw her own reflection. She made a face at herself, irritated by her own awkwardness. What was she? A teenager? A child with their first crush?

‘Ridiculous,’ she thought, ‘She’s not even my type, likely has no interest in me, and probably has a boyfriend or a husband. You are only doing this because you’re on the rebound, stop being such a creep, you idiot.’

She told herself that she should just let it go. However, when the stall door opened, Alcina’s eyes looked over at the woman again. The other woman didn’t see her or pay her any attention, not that she would. Alcina tried to settle as meal service began. She tried not to think of the brunette again, but her mind had always been prone to tormenting her. She fell asleep and dreamt of the touch of a new woman – with soft red-brown hair, bright green eyes, and a kind, loving expression.

It was a sexual dream, if Alcina dreamed at all, it was always about sex, but there was something else there as well. A longing, yearning feeling – a desire for something she couldn’t quite understand. She’d had the dream before, but never so vivid. She awoke with a start as a uniformed man stood over her. It was one of the flight attendants telling her that they were nearing their destination and she would need to return her seat to its original position and prepare for the landing. She groggily did as she was instructed, completely surprised that she’d slept so soundly.

After collecting her luggage, Alcina sauntered toward the pickup area designated for the cruise line’s shuttle service. She would have rather hired a car or taken a taxi, but it was part of the “boarding process” for the cruise and after a nearly 10 hour flight, she was not inclined to argue or make things even more difficult for herself. The shuttle was not as prompt as she’d been made to believe it would be. Irritated, she considered sitting on the available bench, but upon further investigation she decided to sit on her own luggage rather than sully her designer clothes with whatever was on that dingy bench. She ran her hand through her wayward hair and wondered if she’d really done something foolish – if she’d regret this once it was underway.

She shoved those thoughts aside and pulled out her phone to check the time and to text Miranda. She didn’t wait for a reply. She knew Randie would start in on her again and she just didn’t want to hear it or read it. Instead she put the phone back in her pocket and looked around for the shuttle again. There were quite a few people seated on the various benches or generally loitering, apparently waiting for the same shuttle – including the brunette that had haunted Alcina’s dreams during the flight.

Alcina looked at her, then looked away – and then looked at her again. She estimated that the woman was in her early to mid-twenties and she did appear to be traveling alone. For a ghost of a moment, she considered going over to try and talk to her. Make her acquaintance – find out her name … friendly things like that. She knew in her heart of hearts that ‘friendship’ wasn’t her real goal, but not for the first time – she lied to herself. She could just be friends … she was capable of doing that, right?

She didn’t have the opportunity to find out. The shuttle arrived and as the other woman looked up, Alcina looked away and pretended to be on her phone again – she pointedly “failed” to check Miranda’s response but did check to see if she’d received any emails from her assistant. Mia was as close to perfect as an executive assistant could be – and sure enough, she sent only one email letting Alcina know that her schedule was cleared for the next month and that she’d let her know about any emergencies via text … and she wished Alcina a pleasant trip. Alcina smiled at that and then remembered the shuttle.

She shuffled after everyone else as she approached the shuttle driver, a dark-haired man that was more than a foot shorter than her. He visibly shrunk away from her as she approached, apparently startled by her height. It was not an uncommon reaction, but it never failed to remind Alcina just how different she was. Her father had always suggested that she embrace it and outwardly – she did. She wore clothing that showcased her stature as well as ridiculous high heels, all in an effort to maximize the impression she made on people. On some level, she enjoyed looking down on others – especially those that wished to shame her or belittle her – but on many other levels she resented being so … singular. Many claimed that it was “lonely at the top” and she knew that to be correct.

She ducked to get onto the shuttle and found that she had to sit toward the front as there was significantly limited head room farther back. The shuttle was arranged with a kind of improvised hutch made to store excess luggage that wouldn’t fit below on one side of the compartment and a row of seats along the opposite side perpendicular to the seats at the back. This row of seats were on a raised dais as well, almost like a stage, and she knew she was going to be the only one in the spotlight. She took her seat and crossed her long legs primly.

She kept her eyes facing toward the front and didn’t look back around the shuttle bus – she knew they were all staring at her, but she didn’t want to turn and actually see them staring. That always made it worse. The fact that her schoolgirl “crush” was on the shuttle made her remarkably, and stupidly, self-conscious. She sighed and chided herself once again, she really was being an idiot; however, with sudden clarity of thought she realized that if her little crush was on the shuttle, perhaps she was also going to be on the cruise. If that was the case perhaps Alcina would have the opportunity to meet her. It was foolish, but that thought raised her spirits considerably.

Abigail Rouse was crushed between two large men and buffered in at the front by their apparent wives and she hoped to hell that this shuttle ride was a quick one. She hated confined spaces. She could tolerate it when necessary, but soon enough she would start to panic and that was an experience she was not interested in having. She needed to focus on something else. She wasn’t able to get her book or her phone out without basically rubbing the arm of the man next to her and she was not keen on making contact with anyone if she could help it. She looked forward at the tall woman she’d seen on the plane.

It was interesting seeing her here. She was so well dressed and … well, beautiful, with dark raven-colored hair, pale blue eyes, a flawless light olive complexion, expert makeup, and perfectly manicured nails. It seemed odd that she would be in a place like this, surrounded by “ordinary” people. She was looking forward, her long legs crossed, and she was impatiently allowing one of her high end stilettos (an odd choice for mass transit, Abi had to admit) to slip off the heel of her raised foot before pushing it back on with the front of her foot. It was obviously a nervous habit of her’s, but Abi appreciated it. The flash of red on the bottom of her shoes and the steady movement of the shoe as it returned to its proper place on her foot was rather calming.

Abi rarely took notice of others, at least, when her mind was elsewhere. She was so focused on her trip and all the excursions she was planning and the books she was reading that most other people just faded into the background. However, she’d seen that woman more than a few times and she could have sworn that she was always just looking away when Abi’s gaze met her’s. As though she had been caught staring. That was unlikely. Abi was not the kind of woman that others ever really … looked at … at least, not in an appreciative fashion. Certainly not the way that nearly every person on that shuttle bus was looking at this, apparently lost, supermodel. Abi laughed a bit to herself at that. Surely she was lost and there was a runway somewhere missing it’s star.

When they arrived at the dock, the long lost fashionista departed first, and Abi was in no rush to contend with the crowd of people. Instead, she waited patiently – fully intending to be the last one off. She got her wish. She was the last to leave the shuttle and the stout driver all but shoved her heavy bag at her. She’d stowed the bag herself as she knew it was quite heavy, but he grumbled when she tried to retrieve it. Something about safety regulations but the moment he tried to move that bag he started swearing in Danish.

Abi took the bag, which thankfully had wheels, adjusted her backpack and she set off after the other cruise goers. She couldn’t help but take note of the super model as she strolled across the deck and stood rigidly where she’d apparently been ordered to go. She seemed to be travelling alone and she really did stand out in just about every way. Vaguely, Abi wondered if they would meet … she seemed the sort that Abi would befriend. Since she was young, Abi always gravitated toward those who stood out … for good or for ill, she just always seemed to find solidarity with the misfits. Eventually, Abi reached the boarding platform, showed her ticket information, was provided her room key and was ordered to take a place on the deck so they could complete the safety briefing.

Abi looked across the sea of humanity that was the nearly 200 passengers and they all seemed to look right back at her. They were mostly grouped up in couples or family/friend units. Abi easily took note of the misplaced model who dwarfed nearly all but the tallest men in the group and she just wheeled her heavy bag over to stand beside her. The woman looked over at her, but her elegantly sculpted face remained expressionless.

Abi flashed her a small, friendly smile, much like she had on the plane, but this time it was not returned. The woman was so much taller than she was, and Abi immediately felt awkward in the woman’s shadow. She was glad no one else was back there to see her in her ratty t-shirt and jeans, slouching against her old, worn out bag that was bulging at the seams, right next to the personification of ‘magnificent’ in her haute couture suit and with her pristine black leather luggage set that was probably worth more than Abi’s car.

The safety briefing was much longer than it needed to be – essentially, only smoke in designated areas, don’t lean against the railings, and know where the lifeboats are. Pretty simple stuff, but based on the looks of some of the passengers, this information was not exactly sinking in. Abi sighed, but eventually they were given permission to go and find their suites. She was almost surprised to turn and see the supermodel had already left, probably as soon as everyone’s attention was on the briefing.

Abi knew where her suite was located – it was a unique unit type and there were only two of them on this specific vessel. She had been planning this trip for nearly two years and had prepaid almost a year in advance to ensure she got this exact ship. That suite had the best view onboard and, for once, she was able to afford the best. It was a big thing, spending that much money on a trip. Her mother had spent the last 12 months offhandedly reminding her what all she could have bought with that kind of money, but Abi was not to be deterred. Besides – the package was non-refundable anyway.

When she arrived at her suite, she heaved her bag close and swiped the keycard. The light flashed green, then she turned the door handle and ambled inside – and met the wrath of a very agitated Fury. Abi barely realized who was shouting at her when the tall woman from earlier came around the corner, apparently out of the en suite bathroom.

“What is the meaning of this?! How dare you barge into my room lik-!”

It was strange to see the woman almost stagger in place as she looked down at Abi, her anger seemingly startled out of her. It was so unexpected that Abi was almost speechless.

“I-I-this is my suite! What are you doing in my – how did you get into my room?”

“With a key, obviously,” the woman retorted, steadily rediscovering her anger, “This is my room.”

“I-wait- … how?” Abi replied, “There are only two of these and the other was booked – are you sure that isn’t your room? It’s directly above this one.”

The other woman stared at her before continuing, “I am not an idiot, I know how to read numbers.”

With that she stalked over to a desk at the far side of the room and retrieved her key card. She showed the card holder and the room number scrawled upon it - Abi looked at her own keycard holder – it was the same number. They had both been given keys to this same room.

The taller woman turned and immediately called to the service desk to ‘discuss’ the situation and she did not mince words. Abi was almost relieved, she hated to have such conversations. Instead, she watched the other woman gesturing as she spoke, her hands moving in swift striking motions indicating her anger and driving home the point that it was the cruise line’s responsibility to assuage her. Abi was worried that something had gone wrong – would she be asked to move? It was an unattractive prospect, but she waited to begin her unpacking process. Eventually, after many gestures and heated words spoken in a decidedly aggressive manner, the bursar arrived to discuss the error.

Abi kept to herself and looked around the room and out of the plethora of windows. This unit had a vast panoramic window that covered the whole width of the boat, and as she stood at the foot of the California King bed, there was also a massive window on the left side and a sliding glass door to the small balcony on the right. There was also a small sitting room area with a large sofa, a dining area with seating for four and an en suite bathroom. It looked like the other occupant had already begun unpacking her beauty products. A wide variety of tubes, bottles, and accoutrements were arrayed on the counter of the double sink.

As she shifted the weight of her backpack and continued to look around she spied a decorative mirror that was angled just so she could see the conversation between the other key holder and the almost comically small bursar. The purse-bearer, an older dark skinned woman with dark hair and dark eyes who stood at no more than five feet, looked up at the angry giantess with visible fear in her eyes. The tall woman absolutely towered over her and the whole top part of her body was angled to look down at this person who was obviously flustered to have to give this kind of news to a woman so physically intimidating.

“I regret that there was an error during booking,” the little woman said, trying to be as professional as possible while tip-tapping on the tablet in her hand, “Our records indicate that Ms. Rouse made her reservation first and we are obliged to provide her with what she requested. However, I can find alternate accommodation elsewhere on the ship for yourself, Ms. Dimitrescu.”

Abi expected that the fashionista to utterly demolish the ship’s treasurer, but instead her shoulders drooped and, still covertly looking via the mirror, Abi noted a sad, melancholy expression on her face. She was no longer furious, but more … resigned.

“I … I cannot accept other accommodation on the ship, I booked this room because I-,” she hesitated, a look of mortification flashing across her otherwise lovely features, “I don’t fit in the other beds available. I booked the room for the bed.”

The bursar blanched. Of course she wouldn’t fit in the full sized beds in all the other units onboard.

“I am sorry, I only have one other unit onboard with this style of accommodation and it has been reserved and checked in,” she replied sadly and shifted her attention back to her tablet, her hand flying across it apparently trying to find some solution to the problem, “I can, of course, offer a full refund or I can arrange for a stay on an alternate vessel. The next availability is … it’s in two weeks.”

The bursar obviously knew that wouldn’t work, it was clear on her face, but she was trying to offer anything.

“I cannot do that, I have non-refundable flights,” came the quiet reply, “I-I guess I am staying here.”

“I- well, I am not sure of this suggestion, but if Ms. Rouse would be willing to share the room, I can adjust your fares to double occupancy. The unit does sleep up to four people total – there is a sofa bed in the living area. In that situation I can refund half of your initial costs.”

“I would not wish to impose,” the taller woman replied without looking over at Abi.

Abi considered. She wasn’t necessarily keen on sharing her space on such a special trip. However, it was her call to make. She was unsure, but then she recalled that sad, defeated look on the other woman’s face. It seemed so unfair to leave her, stuck in Amsterdam when she had expected a different trip entirely – Abi wondered how she would have felt if the situations were reversed, and she was in the position of having to tacitly ask a stranger for help.

“I am ok with sharing,” Abi replied after a moment, “I wouldn’t want you to miss out because of some booking error.”

“Okay, Ms. Dimitrescu,” the bursar continued, “I understand this was not the experience that you wanted, and I am taking note of the error to ensure no further issues, but will this arrangement suit you as well?”

The taller woman turned and looked at Abi with an expression that she couldn’t quite decipher. It was as though she was nonchalantly preparing herself for a struggle.

“I- yes, I can share,” she eventually answered.

“Very well,” the bursar continued, thoroughly happy to have a resolution of some sort, “I am ensuring that you both have full premium bar and restaurant access, and I will personally ensure that your funds are returned as promptly as possible. Also, please feel free to utilize the in-suite minibar and snack cabinet, we will cover that tab for you. I again want to apologize for this inconvenience, please, if either of you need further assistance during the trip, feel free to let me know.”

With her spiel completed the bursar all but ran from the room. Presumably to ensure that she was out of earshot before another issue developed. Abi looked at the other woman and finally shrugged her backpack off her shoulders.

“Hi, my name is Abigail Rouse, or just Abi,” she said in the friendliest tone she could muster.

“Hello, Abi,” the other woman responded as she pinched and massaged the bridge of her nose, “My name is Alcina Dimitrescu – and thank you.”

Abi smiled at her new roommate for the fourth time and this time, the expression was wearily returned. The woman straightened to her full height and returned to unpacking her things. Abi did the same. This was not the trip she’d signed up for, but she was going to make the best of it. What was the worst that could happen?