As a regular visitor to the Netherlands to visit relatives in the Havre, I normally fly or on occasion use the Euro tunnel. However, on a whim this last June (2015), I opted for the cross channel ferry from Harwich. I had a few days annual leave to use up, so was in no rush and hoped to do some sightseeing, as well as seeing loved ones.
It was on the return trip that the little escapade I wish to relate, took place. For reasons that will become obvious, I must be very careful in not betraying the identity of the individual involved, while remaining true to the events.
I was reclining in my chair near the bar, watching a party of female students go by. Clearly Dutch from their more demure though somewhat understated sexy look, they paused to consider how to entertain themselves before moving towards what used to be called the 'duty free' shop.
I took a sip of my beer and noticed a girl, seated by the porthole, with a glass of something and engrossed in a novel. Something about her was familiar. Not family or a friend, but very familiar. I gazed at her, and with that sixth sense that women have, she looked up and glanced in my direction. I instantly knew who she was, though didn't react, or show any sign that I had seen a 'VIP.'
I watch a few programmes regularly, being more a radio kind of guy. This particular young lady happened to be a fairly high profile regular in a certain popular TV drama, although she had been less prominent of late. She fell firmly into the category of a guilty pleasure, and it was with some self-reproach that my usual fantasies came to the fore as I took another furtive peek.
From my view point I could tell she was wearing some sort of pullover and jeans. I really wished for a closer look and began to concoct some pretence on which to wander in her direction.
I got up and walked down the gangway, past the shop and did a right past the bar, until I had a clear view of where she was sitting. She had one foot on the rim of her stool and one leg dangled. I pretended to peruse the bar menu, while keeping half an eye on the girl. She looked somewhat older than her on screen character. Not by much, but enough to assuage my guilt, anyhow. At this point, there was nothing more in my mind other than to say hello, although I was wary that 'famous' people might be weary of random greetings.
I saw movement from the corner of my eye and I looked her way. Wow! She was beautiful, sexy and cute all at the same time. I allowed a faint glimmer of recognition to cross my face.
I knew her real name as well as that of her character, which I will change for the purposes of the story.
"Hi Heather! How are you?"
I wanted to be friendly and confident, while not making any cheesy allusion to her role.
"Hi. Good thank you," she replied.
"Sea journeys eh! A bit dull on your own."
"Ha yeah! Got my book."
"Oh, yes, my apologies. Didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, it's okay. I was just going to get another drink, anyway.
"Yeah, me too. Just wondering what to have. Can I get you a glass of wine or something?"
"You can get me a Southern Comfort and coke. I'm allowed to drink now!"
"Really?! How so?"
"I turned eighteen two weeks ago. Which is awesome, cos just got my A levels results and would be kind of nice to celebrate!"
I listened to her softly spoken voice; she had a faint accent that went perfectly with her angelic features. Her eyes sparkled and her long fair hair shone in the light from the round ship's window. She stood up and joined me at the bar. She was taller than I thought she would be, but still probably five inches shorter than me.
Her pullover turned out to be a very sexy crop top cardigan, revealing the cutest little navel. Her breasts were smallish but delightfully perky. Her jeans were of the currently popular waist-high type, which hugged her slim shapely figure, including a subtle but none the less evident camel toe.
As she turned towards the bar, I looked down and admired her exquisite ass, which was gloriously pert. She looked at me and smiled. I wouldn't be a man if I didn't entertain a glimmer that I 'was in' although at that stage it would have been very optimistic, to say the least. I had been to a Christening that morning and was smartly dressed, which probably meant I cut a dash. I might easily have been in a scruffy jeans and T shirt, but hadn't bothered to change. Christenings aren't like weddings, so I wasn't suited, but was sporting a navy blazer and grey trousers.
I got the drinks and took them to her little table, where I took the other stool, trying not to make my study of her lovely boobs, too obvious.
