Margo Harding entered the bar and saw the loser that had hit on her earlier in the cruise sitting there.  What was his name?  Jim? John? Whatever.  One of those boring names that dull parents gave to children that would grow up to live sedate suburban lives.   She glided past him with a smile that said, "oh, you...poor dear.  I know you wish you had a chance with me, but go ahead and watch me while I go for a real man."<br/><br/>She sat down next to a player.  She could tell by the cut of his suit, the bearing of his body, and the way he spoke to the bar tender that he was a man used to being in charge and obeyed.  Not that she intended on obeying any man, but it was nice to know she was with an equal.  Someone else who could get the job done, whatever that job needed to be.<br/><br/>She sat down next to him, knowing that she did not need an explicit invitation.  He turned to her and gave her a slow look before tapping the spot in front of her and nodding to the bar tender.<br/><br/>"Margo," she said, holding out her hand and letting him take hers into a gentlemanly kiss on the top.<br/><br/>"Kent," he said, kissing it again before letting go. "Kent Morganstern."<br/><br/>Margo had no idea who the fuck he was supposed to be, but the way he said it made her think she ought to.<br/><br/>"Oh, not THE Kent Morganstern," she asked, her voice turning playful and a little coy.<br/><br/>"Indeed," he said.<br/><br/>"Margo Harding," she said to make it equal.<br/><br/>He paused and blinked for a second. "Wait, Margo Harding?  Over at Fidestro Finance?"<br/><br/>"Oh, you've heard of me?" she said, the corner of her lips turning upward.<br/><br/>"Yeah," he said. "I've been following your quarterlies for the last four years.  The performance on the Olympic Portfolio has been unbelievable."<br/><br/>"Why, thank you," she said, purring. Here was a man who knew his business, and her own.  He would certainly do for a few days worth of cruise ship fun. It wasn't like she would get any work done since she'd been entirely cut off by her boss for an enforced fourteen day break from work.  Her passwords wouldn't work, and everyone had been told to hang up on her if she called in for any reason.<br/><br/>They made small talk for a little while before he asked her if she wanted to see his portfolio.  The old line made her laugh out of the pure corniness of it.<br/><br/>"Sure," she said.  She downed the remnants of her wine before spinning the stool around.  Her short skirt had ridden up to reveal the lace at the top of her stockings, and she glanced around to see who might have noticed.    She gave the loser guy a wink as she slid slowly off the stool, letting the skirt hitch up a little more to reveal the round firmness of her thighs, too.  Might as well give him an something to masturbate to when he returned to his lonely little cabin in the bowels of the ship.