Outstripped

by Avery, T. C.

  Jody, never the less, was feeling lucky. This wasn't a cheap cruise but nor was it full of the purple rinse brigade. She was keeping her eyes peeled, though no one presented themselves as 'fitting the bill' before lunch.

  After a light fulfillment from the Lido Bar snack menu, and another hour or so on the teak steamer, it was time to seek out her pre-booked activity for the day.

  Making her way down to 'H-deck' she studied the artwork and the route maps carefully since she didn't have a ball of twine 'a la Theseus in the Minotaur's maze'. Having found her destination, she entered. The 'spa maidens' were awaiting her arrival and the attention and service they offered was just wonderful. She may as well have been in ancient Crete or a roman spa. It just had that feel to it. Indulgence, luxury, leisure and pleasure without effort or guilt or consequence. There were no men here either so flesh and the flashing thereof was not an issue.

  Having stripped down to the standard 'towel only' attire, Jody was shown in to her treatment room. The decor was cavern like, the music was relaxing and the sweet, heady smell and ambiance of candles and incense just completed the mood. Her first treatment was a head massage and facial. Pampering of any description is reward in itself but when someone else is paying for a quality, high-end version it is so, so good. Decadent even.

  Jody gave in to her personal 'spa maiden' and allowed her to massage away the pressures, unwind the spring coils from the last few months and de-stress the tensions in her neck and her brow. Mount Olympians never had it so good. After a five minute relaxation between treatments she was almost asleep when the Eastern European miracle worker offered her some water to keep up her fluids.

  Next it was the full body massage. This required a shortening of the modesty towel at both ends and out came the oils. The masseuse applied the aromatic, sweet smelling lubricant liberally to her hands and began with Jody's neck, chest and shoulders. The kneading, rubbing, stretching and pressing took Jody to new heights. It had been a while since she'd treated herself. The warmth created by the oils suggested magical powers for muscle relaxation and a healing, rejuvenating detoxification for her skin.

  "It’s amazing what you can get out of a little bottle and some gentle but firm fingers," Jody considered, eyes closed, in heaven, in an almost 'sinfully high' condition. The fingers were sliding further and further down Jody's chest, just edging under the towel a little more dangerously each time. This was just bliss. She hadn't even considered any naughty overtures for these activities but now she couldn't keep the thoughts at bay.

  The hands took each arm in turn and deeply massaged oils from shoulder to fingertips. Over and over, digging thumbs in and squeezing muscles, her maiden seemed to be drawing all tension to a head for release into thin air at her fingertips. The male phallus and all its associated metaphors were doing somersaults in Jody's now confused but pleasured brain. The secret universe behind closed eyes is your own and it can take you anywhere you want to go. Anywhere.

  Even more oil was administered, and next it was a turn for the tenderloins. The thigh massage went deep, then deeper, then longer, then higher and if Jody considered her maiden of manipulation was a little risqué above breasts then now she was almost inappropriate. Trouble was, behind closed eyes Jody didn't care. Inappropriate didn't exist. There was only selfishness, indulgence and pleasure. Whosoever wished to attend to her needs would be allowed. Encouraged even. The towel rose higher, and higher, and strong, feminine fingers forced feelings further and further towards Jody’s fornication factory."

  "This is good," Jody thought. "Was it intentional? Does she want me? Should I open my eyes? Should I respond?"

  The hands retreated down Jody's legs to perform the same elongated stroking routine as on her arms. Thighs to toes now got the masturbation treatment. And then it all stopped. Jody rejoined the candlelit cavern and was offered the water once again.

  Time to turn over. Now this required removal of the modesty towel, which under normal circumstances wasn't an issue but Jody was now pink cheeked and chested with a hint of firmness around the nipple area.

  "Maybe it would send the right signals. Maybe it would all go unnoticed. Maybe it was all in her head, and just maybe she didn't even swing that way. Well I bet I can get her to swing, or maybe I should just lie down and let her carry on. Yes..... That’s probably the best thing to do."

  Jody lay on her stomach, squishing her boobs and presenting her beautiful bottom to the maiden. Jody couldn't see if her flashing, and now nakedness, had raised an appreciative eyebrow, but sunk into her head towel, and though she could peer through the hole in the table, her eyes closed and her imagination took over again.

  The modesty towel was placed over her buttocks, and in her mind, Jody visualized the oil pouring from bottle to body. Drizzling down her back and her thighs. She could almost see it.

  Long, firm kneading began again. Stroking, pressing, firmly massaging all over Jody's shoulders and lower back. Tension release was far from her mind now. This was tension, building and building. The fair maiden's fingers were at it again. They poked at the towel, they stroked at the edge, and they pushed it further and further down her buttocks.

  "Yes, push it, push it" Jody pleaded in her head. Then the hands changed again and started on the backs of her calves, and her thighs. Stroking, rubbing, and caressing their way upwards this time towards, well, the top. The rear thigh massage was really getting her going then it switched back again. This was torment, torture.

  "Does this girl know what she's doing? Is this on purpose? Is she trying to get me off or piss me off, or what?"

  The back rubbing began again with a little more oil. The towel was being edged again and again and Jody couldn't take it. She reached around and pulled the towel off saying, "Its okay, just get rid of it. It’s just getting in the way. You're alright, I'm not shy." And she began again.

  This time the stroking could go full length. Right the way down her taught, tender bottom to her thighs and beyond. Jody was in heaven. Her thighs fell apart repeatedly under massage and she just knew that her freshly shaven pussy was visible, winking even at her very own spa maiden, daring her to make contact. The rubbing continued, up and down the thighs, inside, outside, top to bottom (there go those puns again) and back again. It was ecstasy. It was sex. Or it was at least, foreplay.

  And then it stopped. A hand rested on Jody's shoulder as if to wake her up and a voice said, "You're all done. I'll just cover you up and give you a little privacy and relaxation for five minutes. The water is on the side."

  Jody nearly burst in to tears. "Where's my happy ending?" she cried, inside.

  "Bugger the relaxation," Jody thought, as she wrapped herself in the towel and headed for her cabin. "There's a job to finish."

  As she opened her cabin door and entered, Jomari appeared out of nowhere. "How the hell does he do that?" she wondered.

  He followed her in and enquired about her relaxing session at the Spa. She told him how good it was and then asked him to come back later when she would be getting ready for dinner. She then began rummaging through the drawers and cupboards in search of something. Getting nowhere, she ran to the door hoping to catch him down the corridor. To her utter surprise there he was again almost outside her door.

  "What the....? Never mind. Jomari, when you unpacked for me yesterday, did you happen to find a long, black, shiny, er, thing, about this long?"

  "Your vibrator ma'am?" he asked completely nonplussed.

  "Er, yes, my........ Vibrator."

  "Sorry, Miss Jody, there were no such articles in your luggage. I would have known."

  "I bet you would," she thought, but instead asked him "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, I am sure, but let me see if I can assist."

  Then as Jody jumped to conclusions and assumed he was making an unconventional pass at her, he turned swiftly and left her at the door, in her towel, with all the wrong words about to pour forth from her mouth in his general direction.

  She stopped, scra
tched her head and went back inside, gently closing the door behind her and leaned on it, still trying to work out what just went down.

  Then it hit her. "I knew it. I knew I'd forgotten something. My best bloody vibrator."

  Then she remembered her hand luggage. She had a discreet, emergency, slim line, lipstick size (and disguise), purple vibrator stashed in her hand luggage. Three and a half inches of intense orgasm. Handy enough to perform to order at the shortest of notice and small enough to be put to work almost anywhere. Well particularly in her pants.

  "It's the facial contortions that need to be kept under control if you're in public," she used to tell her friends, "coz you can always mask the moans and screams by biting down hard on a lump of wood!" Ha, ha!

  She eventually found it, hugged it, blessed the moment and all but ran for the bed. Preparing herself to finally complete the job that the spa maiden should have finished, she lay back on the pillow stack, still covered with the ship's own embroidered bed spread, and slowly opened her towel.

  "Bugger, damn, shit, fuck!" The expletives accurately captured and articulated the sad and exasperating moment.

  "No bloody batteries!" And that just ruined the whole thing. There would be no coming down from this, for the moment, and certainly not for resumption of any personalized satisfaction.

  Jody contemplated the insides of her eyelids whilst she calmed down and then got to her feet, turned on the Telly and went for a pee.

  "That's about as much action as you’re gettin' today dear," she said to her privates whilst patting them dry.

  Back in the cabin she decided to pour a soft drink from the fridge and picked up her book for a read out on the balcony. Jody busied herself for the next few hours between cabin and shops and the activities desk and cabin again. She eventually drew herself away from the spectacular Caribbean seascape and decided to shower and prepare herself for the Captain's formal dinner.

  Dressed in the fantastic fluffy white robe that all hotels, and ships, it would now also seem, have for the use of their guests (where do they get them from? You can never find them in the shops, ever. Just poor quality alternatives. Why is that? Do they buy them all up so no one has a chance to compete? Like steak?) Jody was putting the finishing touches on her toenails when the door was knocked upon.

  "Come in," she hollered expecting, correctly, it would be Jomari with his alleged superior knowledge on dressing to impress. Or in her case, selecting to impress, since there were only so many outfits, ensembles and dresses she could pack. In he came, to be confronted by bare legs and the mountainous turbanesque towel on Jody's head. Luckily he'd seen it all before. Western women have some weird ways about them.

  Jomari was carrying one of those expensive looking briefcases. It had a brushed steel appearance with corners and looked very posh and important. Posh, being the latter day generic for all things expensive or upper class, rather than the original nautical gnomonic for describing rich British travellers to the Raj and India from whence it came. In the days of old, long before air travel and air conditioning, those with the money would stay cooler in their cabins by securing one on the Port side of the ship heading to India (outward bound) and on the Starboard side heading home to Britain (homeward bound). The phrase 'Port out, Starboard home' was coined and subsequently shortened to P.O.S.H.

  "I have managed to come to your assistance Miss Jody, as promised." And with that he placed the attaché, face up, on the bed beside her. The initials P.P. we're embossed in large font on the top side. Jody stood immediately and crowded him, intrigued with his version of 'assistance', but Jomari waved her aside to give him room to open the case and impress her properly. It was like one of those drug lord money handovers with two locks opened using thumbs followed by the slow lifting of the lid.

  Jody's chin nearly hit the deck. This was a display case with a difference. Something she had never seen before, or even heard of. Its interior of luxurious black velvet had impressions and deep precision cut outs for the most exquisite array of sex toys known to woman. Gold, silver, glass, black, pink, purple and ivory coloured pleasure pieces of all shapes, sizes and designs. Some small, some curvy, some double ended and some two headed. Dildos, beads, vibrators and bullets. Forget the kid in a candy store and the alcoholic behind the bar. This was a licence to scream, and a bloody good reason to spend the next 48 hrs in bed, alone.

  "Where on earth did you get this from?" She asked.

  "I have my contacts Miss. You seemed to need assistance and this is what I do well. Would you like some privacy?"

  Jody still had her hand over her mouth, in total disbelief. She pulled at her turban towel, unraveling it, and tossed it on the bed. Picking up one item after another, she stroked them and studied them. She wasn't just amazed at the quantity it was the quality (although curiously she noted there was one piece missing out of what had to be a brand new set). These were not cheap toys, and how on earth, and who put them all together in such a well organized, brilliant package? It was like a naughty version of a Christmas selection box and Jody was utterly gob-smacked.

  Regaining control of herself and her thoughts she answered, "I'm sorry, er, no, um, yes! I'd love some privacy, but I've got to get ready for dinner and I need your assistance with that. Are you leaving these with me, for now?"

  "Yes, yes. I have them on good terms. I mean I am on good terms with the owner and it is a special honour to provide them."

  "I'm not sure I understand, Jomari. You got these from someone on board? They're not yours, or the ship's, or from a special stash or something."

  "I cannot say Miss, I was told not to tell."

  "So, it is someone on board then," Jody concluded, compounding her intrigue.

  "I know people, Miss. I am to leave the case for you if you wish, and now we should get on with your dresses."

  "Yes, yes, leave the case (good God, yes, please leave the case) and you're right, we should get a move on."

  Over the next twenty minutes or so, Jody determined that either Jomari was the best undercover straight guy she'd ever come across, or he was most definitely gay. Not only did he get to see her wriggle in and out of some very fine dresses and even finer lingerie, but one or two ensembles necessitated that there was not much of it required. Well between this and some quick changing routines, he earned himself a pretty incredible, first hand and up close eyeful of some top notch pretty woman and her incredible T 'n' A. Surely only a bona fide card carrying gay man would be able to conduct himself in a 'proper and serious' fashion under these circumstances without giving the game away? And know the terminology to go with the task.

  The dress and the shoes were chosen, the jewelry was selected and the hair would be up. Jomari had helped her no end, even if only with company and support. He bid her farewell and good luck with her evening, and the whole time Jody spent finishing her hair and makeup, the selection box 'to die for' communicated with her. It called her name, it beckoned for her attention and it whispered devilish obscenities. But Jody was strong, for once. She decided this drug like 'high' would just make her evening that more pleasurable. Filled with hope and anticipation, to be topped off with the mother of all battery operated buzzes. Unless she gets lucky, that is.

  Up on the restaurant deck Jody found her way to the cocktail lounge and immediately caught the attention of the bar staff, along with all the other body watchers and rubber-neckers. She looked simply stunning in her full length, sheer, backless, black dress. The smallest of straps preventing loss over her clearly defined and obviously bra-less breasts. The air conditioning was keeping things ever so slightly proud, which besides being ridiculously horny, could also assist in preventing slippage of said satin over silk (dress over skin that is). It was bold, it was brazen and it was beautiful.

  Jody's hair was pinned up, accentuating her slender neck and she had on a matching diamanté tiara and necklace set which sparkled appropriately like the real thing. She'd gone for a very classy red lipstick shade to go with her bold eyebr
ows and lashes and after all that time choosing just the right shoes they weren't particularly visible, but may be at any moment she sat down, crossed her legs, or hoisted the dress for any reason. It could happen!

  And whilst we're on the subject of a discernible lack of lingerie, the cascade of material over hips showed no such tell tale signs either. Only a very brave, or lucky, man would be finding out the answer to that riddle.

  Jody was presented with her aperitif by the barman, which tonight would be a 'real' Champagne, though she never did find out which one. Clutching her colour coded cocktail purse she folded her arms and perused the large selection of guests whetting their appetites with alcohol. Most of them eager to find out where, and with whom, they were to be seated.

  There was a line, snaking its way into the dining room, which was moving very slowly. It’s always a mystery how some folk seem duty-bound to seek out their seating at the earliest possible opportunity. They'll join a queue for anything if it means they get seated quicker. A plane, a train, a restaurant, wherever. Jody preferred to stand back, relax and enjoy the scenery. People-watch a little longer and leave the queuing to others. She secured another Champagne and idly chit-chatted with a few people before finally deciding to join the now minuscule line for her second opportunity to handshake with the Captain. As it turned out, this time was everyone's big moment for a photograph. A chance to show off that special outfit and mix with the dignitaries. It also provides hard evidence for everyone at home. Way better than a t-shirt!

  As luck would have it he remembered her by name, though, since she was a special guest, he should have done. The seating plan determined that Jody would also be dining at his table, or he at hers, depending on your beliefs regarding whose honour it really is in the travel and hospitality trade. She noted there were eight people in total at her table, and other than the Captain, no other names were familiar. Two married couples, a man, a woman, the Captain and herself.