The bright sunlight beamed down on the large cruise ship making its way across the open expanse of ocean, while the salty ocean breeze cooled the inhabitants of the enormous vessel. Two people, a man and a woman, strode down one of the outdoor decks arm in arm.
"Your daughter has been calmed down and is now progressing well at the start of her treatments," the man spoke in a French accent, "I think you will be quite pleased by the finished product."
"Step-daughter," the woman, an American, corrected, "Nearly three-fourths of my husband's fortune was going to go to hehr on the unfortunate event of his untimely death. The little brat! Listen to me, Max. I don't care what happens to her from here on out, but at the end of this whole process, she has to sign over all rights to those billions to me."
"And she shall, Mrs. Bronson. The next time you see her she will do anything you say," Max insisted, flashing a charming smile, "You know, we could always use more members of the staff. We can find the ideal...position...for her, if you get my meaning."
At the mention of the staff, Mrs. Bronson observed some of the other women making their way past her and Max on the large cruise ship's decks. They were all young and gorgeous, in an almost fake sort of a way, and she knew immediately it had to be the work Max and his staff performed on the immense, floating vessel. She watched one petite little thing pass by. The girl's skin was deeply sun tanned, her hair a shiny platinum blonde, a color not found in nature, and her shapely young body was covered in a white see-through mini dress that revealed a barely-there string bikini beneath. The girl also wore high-heeled sandals that seemed to only add to her dramatic hip-roll walk, as if it was the only way she could walk with such a high heel. The entire look was capped off with a gold necklace and at the center was a round medallion that read the little tart's name.
There were other women, too, sashaying about the deck on equally high heels to this destination or that on the large ship. Some wore the same white see-through mini dress as the little platinum blonde slut, while others wore other outfits. One such woman, strutting by with bouncing, obviously fake, breasts, wore a white bra top, high waisted shorts with two rows of gold nautical buttons running down the middle, an opened cropped jacket with gold trim and shoulder epaulets and a captain's hat. Her high-heeled sandals were gold instead of white. Another slut, this time a cute black woman, slinked by in a white romper with similar gold trim to the other tart. There was even gold anchor symbols where her nipples would have been. And yet, instead of a captain's hat, this one wore a hat similar to an airline flight attendant. Mrs. Bronson, wondered if this all meant they served different roles on the ship?
"Hmmmm," the woman sighed, her own content smile framing her middle-aged features, "That sounds absolutely lovely. And while I'm here I think I will test out your little operation for myself. Not the 'full treatment' like you are giving little Georgina, and don't you fucking dare do anything to my mind, but a touch up here and there. From what I've seen of your spa and salon, they will shed twenty years off my appearance."
"Your wish is our command, Madame," Max said, reaching over to kiss the top of her hand, which caused the older woman to laugh, overjoyed at how everything was turning out for her, "And we would never dare do anything to that brilliant mind of yours."
"You better not. I have made strict arrangements for the weight of my husband's empire to come down on you if you ever would," the woman said, starring daggers at the man who was holding his hands out as if to say he was completely innocent. Her hardened glare then softened, "You do this for me and I will make a considerable investment in this cruise line. Completely quid pro quo. Hmmm, doing this all in international waters. How ingenious, Max!"
"Oui, Madame. We saw a market place that features such similar enterprises as the New U Salon and Bimbotech Industries and said, 'Why not us as well?" Max said with a charming grin on his sun-soaked face, "And unlike those other two businesses, we exclusively cater to the super wealthy. Such wealth brings with it certain secrets that must be kept, no? Whether family secrets or business-related ones. So we feel that our air-tight confidentiality agreement will be kept most sacred with our many clients."
"It all sounds wonderful, Max," the middle-aged woman said, as she continued to slink forward next to him toward the bow of the vast ship. She looked on and saw a troubling sight off in the distance. There were dark clouds framing the skies and even the rumble of thunder. She then turned to Max with an arrogant grin, "Maybe not so ingenious after all. Even you can't control the weather. It looks like a storm is on its way."
"Madam, we are taking great strides to remedy such a situation, I can assure you," Max responded.
"Such arrogance," the woman smiled. She still didn't trust him completely yet. She was about to continue when the click-clack sound of rushing high heels could be heard on the wooden deck.
Mrs. Bronson turned and saw an incredibly busty slut hurrying over to the two of them, her tits jiggling like mad in her tight white, spandex mini dress that contained her body's dramatic curves. She was absolutely gorgeous, with her skin sun-kissed and pretty blonde hair piled high on top of her head. Finally, the young tart stopped just in front of them, her huge breasts still bobbing in front of them. The older woman could see the same gold necklace around her neck and the medallion at the center that read 'Holli.'
"Like, it is done, Mast...I mean, Mr. Max," the clearly simple-minded slut cooed in her high-pitched voice, "The package and card have just arrived at its destination and she should, like, be receiving it now."
"Excellent, Holli," Max said, taking the girl by the back and ushering her over to Mrs. Bronson, "I want to introduce you to Mrs. Bronson. She is Georgina's step-mother and is to be given anything she wants while on the ship. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Holli said, submissively, "Like, anything she wants."
It was then that another member of the crew approached them with two flutes of champagne. Max took them and offered one of them to Mrs. Bronson. It had to be the third or fourth glass of champagne she had consumed that afternoon with Max, and she just chalked it up to being on a cruise and some strange French custom. Either way, she was starting to feel a tad bit flush after drinking it and that was when she really noticed the shapely young slut in front of her. How the top couple of buttons of her dress had to be unclasped, due to how huge her round, perfect breasts were. How her tummy looked tight, but flared out into a perfect hourglass figure with a round, bubble butt and finally, to perfectly tan legs. Mrs. Bronson was shocked when she felt a slight tingle between her legs by simply looking at this picture of sexual perfection.
Max had already seen that Mrs. Bronson was starring wantonly at Holli, and he knew the drugs in the champagne flutes were already working their magic on the middle-aged bitch of a woman. He was overjoyed to see that when she was offered the champagne, she didn't hesitate to drink its contents in one gulp. Everything was working so well for him, and soon he would have Mrs. Bronson's entire fortune, as well as her step-daughter as one of his staff. He hadn't decided what to do yet with Mrs. Bronson herself, but such things would always sort themselves out. It was then he realized that he hadn't consumed his own glass of champagne yet, one without the heavy dose of drugs in it, and shrugged his shoulders and gave a quiet toast to himself."
To the coming Storm," Max said, thanking his lucky stars, as well as his private partner that dealt in the mutant world, for delivering him a most valuable prize that would ensure his longterm success in this nefarious scheme. She would be the first, but she most certainly wouldn't be the last, he thought.
*********
Meanwhile, at the Xavier School of Gifted Youngsters, Ororo Monroe, also known as Storm, stood in her room and rolled the small gift box in her hands and looked at the card. Who could have sent her this present? Did she have a secret admirer?
Without giving it any more thought, Storm opened the card and she saw that it actually was an invitation for her to attend an all-expenses-paid cruise on the BLISS Pleasure Cruise. Her brow furrowed and thought why would anyone invite her to something so silly as a pleasure cruise? Surely she had far better things to do than waste her time being pampered on the open seas.
It was then she noticed a pleasant floral scent that wafted up from the card as she examined it closely. For a second, Ororo became light-headed and then she caught hold of herself. She proceeded to look down at the gift box, a wide, carefree smile now gracing her face, and suddenly, she had the strongest urge to open it.
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