Adam had never been attracted to someone like Sarah before. He gravitated toward women who resembled his ex: tall dancer types with blonde hair and cool personalities. Sarah was a brunette, around five foot six, cocky and stocky.

It was the first day of a week-long Alaska cruise, the first cruise of four in a row on which he’d be the pianist, and Adam was old enough at 38 to be serious about a paying job. So he had no intention of starting a relationship when he stepped up to the passenger on the Promenade Deck and asked her what she was listening to in those earpieces that she wore.

“Don Henley,” she answered, and Adam didn’t know who that was, but she offered an earbud and he listened to a few bars. They smiled at one another and began an easy conversation.

That led to a “theatre” date. Sarah had never even looked at a big guy like Adam that way, and she’d never dated a Jewish man, but she said yes when he explained that as a ship’s performer, he was obligated to attend all the evening shows. They arranged to meet after dinner.

Then she found her parents at the back of the ship. Her father was taking pictures of the diminishing dock while her mother perused the schedule of activities. As far as Sarah could recall she’d never traveled alone with her folks. But she was 41, not long divorced and raising two kids without help; her parents decided she could use a treat. And they had come to feel guilty about cutting her off 20 years earlier, after they asked and she answered about the premarital sexual activity, so it was understood like a private joke with a big kernel of truth that the trip was a payback of sorts.

She was just starting to describe her encounter with Adam when he approached. She introduced them and was charmed by his friendly manner. He was about six foot six and overweight. He had a full head of thick dark hair and regular features that would be handsome if he lost some of the fat. It was obvious that he wasn’t an active man; his stride was ungainly and his body was pudgy. But he had a boyish open way about him that pleased them. He even tried to switch his dinner table to theirs but without success. It was the ship’s custom to seat an upper level crew member or entertainer at each passenger table, and theirs already had the ship’s doctor, and he was unwilling to trade places.

So they ate separately, but Adam found Sarah and her parents as soon as they left the dining room. The four took seats together in the theatre.

The show was mediocre. Afterwards Adam and Sarah said goodnight to her parents, and he led her to a lounge. Sarah ordered a cocktail and when Adam requested sweet white wine she knew he wasn’t a drinker. Their conversation continued with no awkwardness and Sarah, who’d always before felt invaded if a man moved in too close too soon, noted that she didn’t mind how Adam pulled his face toward hers when he made statements. She was charmed when he leaned in and kissed her. She was surprised at the immediacy and depth of her response. It had been a long time.

They kept talking. His father made a living as a character actor, and Adam had been raised in New York city hotels. He was the only man Sarah ever met who had been to the Catskills, let alone worked there. He knew Henny Youngman, and he told Henny Youngman jokes. He was also the only man she’d ever been with who had patronized prostitutes.

When Adam offered to show Sarah his cabin in the passenger-forbidden crew area, she wanted to see it. She was stuck in a single interior room herself (her parents paid, but not much), so she appreciated his portholes and the way the two beds made a corner arrangement. She didn’t expect to get naked but there was something so natural about the way Adam removed her clothes that she didn’t stop him.

It was odd for him too. He was raw from his divorce, still in shock about his move from his New York apartment to the New Jersey ranch house, to driving, to parenting with Sharon their adopted six-year old daughter. He had worked on cruise ships but he’d never been on a cold tour. Always before he had been in tropical temperatures, where he didn’t feel attractive. He knew he looked like everybody’s weird cousin when he tried to wear shorts or swim trunks. But this was different.

They stayed in Adam’s cabin that first night till 2 a.m. They joked and laughed and kissed deeply. They caressed and kissed widely. They fucked and liked it, but that was off. Sarah was insufficiently wet. Adam’s thrust hurt her. She even bled a little. No alarm bells rang. Just laughter.

Sarah didn’t sleep much that night. Her windowless cabin was like a sensory deprivation tank, so sleep should have been easy to achieve, but she was a little bewildered and a lot bemused by the speed and certainty with which she had entered this affair.

She felt completely secure. Comfortably temporary. Strangely trustful. Amid tales of New York whores and accommodating chambermaids, amid spots of blood in vaginal discharge, the subject of condoms never arose. And neither Adam nor Sarah would characterize themselves as stupid or provincial or careless or suicidal.

They’d done it and it had been a bit painful and then they’d done it some more. All the while watching each other’s face and kissing each other’s mouth and filling each other’s ears with bad jokes. They’d had a great time.

She found her parents in deck chairs outside. She fetched mugs of coffee for her father and herself, and she perched on the side of an adjacent chaise while they told her about their sleep and their breakfast. They had papers in front of them and were contemplating a shore excursion for the next day. Sarah acted interested and agreeable. She felt rested and happy.