The moaning from the cabin next to mine on board the yacht ‘Susanna’ was getting louder. The skipper and cook had been at it for an hour now. The dual moaning was climbing in pitch and coming increasingly in unison as I lay naked, belly up, imagining every wet thrust. My voyage had begun earlier that afternoon at a Jamaican dock in the sweltering heat of the tropics. “Hello,” I said to the back of the shirtless man on the...