<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d2/98/b3/d298b36f5af14a072972f9185ec4ec75.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Marissa Kennedy<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Just arriving, then to her cabin<br/><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong>10:40 AM checkin; arriving at the party about 11:30<br/><strong>Content/Mood:</strong>Introspection, grumpy, and nervous<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Jeans (tight), 'Sculptors Do It On the Rocks' t shirt, leather jacket<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>No one yet<br/><hr/><br/>Albequerque to Chicago to New Orleans?  In what rational world did that make sense?  Clearly, airlines weren't believers in Intelligent Design.  'Ris was glad now she'd taken the stupid early flight; she arrived 'only' an hour later than scheduled, which still gave her time to get aboard and get unpacked.  Her head was glad, anyway- her body was crabbing at her.  Faced with a terminally cheery deck agent, she mumbled her way through intake, presented her ticket and ID, then, against her better judgement, surrendered her carry bags to an equally friendly steward type, who was so happy to help her find her cabin she wondered if they'd hidden the guy's paycheck in there. Knowing she was being surly, and feeling bad for it, she tried to press a tenner on him, but he refused with firm politeness.  Apparently there was a system for how to tip on a cruise, different from the rest of the world.<br/><em><br/>Everything </em>was different now. And scary. Before, she'd hang out with female friends and have fun, and ignore the odd tension she sometimes felt in her chest and her thighs and behind her eyes.  Now that she couldn't ignore it any more, knew what it meant, partying with a bunch of strangers was daunting.  It wasn't that she bought into the nasty whispered stereotypes about gays being promiscuous and ready to jump anything with the same chromosome set- more that she really had no damn idea how to behave her own self.  Why had she come?<br/><br/>Well...to meet someone?  And get away from home while doing it, try to shed as much of the baggage of her still new coming out as she could. Picking up the brochure left on the bed counter in the (admit it, drop-dead gorgeous) room, she scanned it. A lot of food looking women stared back, from all over the place and in a bunch of different fields. Were any of them her type? The fuck should she know?  She'd thought until not that long ago that her type was male, and that she just hadn't found Mr. Compatible In Bed yet.  What was she looking for in...girlfriend? Clue. Less.  A couple of them, both blondes, were close to her body type, at least judging from the meet-and-greet sheet.  Did that mean anything? No idea.<br/><br/>Most of her bags would be down later, she'd been told, carefully deposited in her room by the invisible elves of the crew. Were any of them gay, she wondered? How did they feel about working a same-sex hookup cruise?  Whatever, too many things that weren't her issues, and that she couldn't do anything about anyway.  She set to unpacking her toiletries and her 'emergency' stash of underwear and a couple of clean shirt that had been in her carryalls along with her camera and laptop.  Then came the first real big decision of the trip: the first meetup was poolside. Which suit?  She'd packed two, a reasonably modest  bikini (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c3/19/fe/c319fe9a433e8df77e26ddd5f073ed2a.jpg) that she'd bought mostly because of the sort of Southwestern patter on the top, and a more concealing but still classy (she hoped) one piece (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/2b/cf/bb/2bcfbbeb8b27d098d210fed8a4b8f9c3.jpg). She didn't think of herself as having a 'bathing suit body', although she figured she was nice enough to look at.<br/><br/>Of course what she thought mattered less than what the rest of the passengers did..<br/><br/>Screw that. She was going to be comfortable.  Off with the jeans and t and underwear, all piled in a small heap on the bed. On with the one piece.  Later, when she'd built up some courage, she'd maybe wear the 'kini. Stupid to pack it and no wear it, right?<br/><br/>Three deep breaths, cleansing, just like JenAnn had taught her.<em> I can do this.  Whatever 'this' is</em>.  Then, making sure she had her key (she'd look a total idiot if she locked herself out on the first damn day), she stepped out into the hall, oriented herself, and headed off for the hot tub area.