Outstripped (19 page)

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, scratched 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
eyebrows 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.