Now that I have separated and live alone, I visit my mother in Australia at least three times a year. On at least one of these visits, my mother and I go on a cruise, for although she is now in her nineties, she still loves to travel.
In 2019, my mother and I did a cruise around the Indian Ocean. We took in ports in Mauritius, Seychelles, Madagascar, and Reunion Island. It was an Italian ship, so the only person who spoke English to us on the first day was a lady from the cabin directly opposite ours. As she and her husband exited their cabin, she said good morning to us.
Two days later, we bumped into them again, leaving their cabin. This time, we spoke a few more words and discovered that she was actually English but had married when she was eighteen and had lived in Italy ever since.
They introduced themselves as Wendy and Vittorio. It turned out that this was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and the cruise was her husband's anniversary gift to her. It was evidently their first holiday in eight years, and from some other facts she let slip, I deduced she was forty-three.
Vittorio was very Italian-looking and hardly spoke English, which I found strange considering he had an English wife. My snap judgment of him was that he wasn't your typical excited, passionate Italian but rather timid and quiet. Wendy certainly made all the conversation, but he could have come across as quiet because of his poor English. Another hasty opinion I made was that Wendy was quite plain looking but with a very trim figure, dark hair and very suntanned. She looked more South American than English. I was to learn later they had a fruit and vegetable business, and every day, not out in the fields, they were in a market stall selling their goods. Hence them both being so tanned.
I bumped into them several times over the next week, and her lovely smiles had me re-evaluating my first impression that she was plain. She always seemed so pleased to see and talk with me that I started to have naughty thoughts about 'what if?' But that was ridiculous, and I just shoved those thoughts aside.
Into our second week, we had progressed from smiles and hello's to the European kiss on each cheek (Instigated by her, I got quite a shock when she reached forward and kissed me in front of her husband the first time). After that, I would take the initiative, hug her, and kiss each cheek whenever we met.
I spent my free time on the cruise writing and often skimmed through other people's stories, which I had stored on my iPad, to see how they described certain things and try to improve my writing. I read a purportedly true story about some seventy-year-old man bonking many much younger married ladies. He just went up to them and laid out what he wanted to do to them, and 90% complied. The story was quite unbelievable at the end, but it did get me thinking, as I'm approaching seventy, what Wendy would do if I approached her. You would never know if you didn't ask, I figured. But that's the problem: in this day of #MeToo, you have to be very sure of the situation before you step out of line like that.
Wendy wasn't the only lady I had my eye on. My mother and I booked a tour at every port. With only a week or so of the cruise left, we arrived in Nosy Be, Madagascar, and booked a cruise out to some Islands on a catamaran. It was a fantastic day. The first stop was at an island where we walked in the forest and saw snakes, tortoises, geckos, and, most importantly, lemurs. There was also a vibrant market where you could purchase colourful t-shirts, carvings, and touristy paraphernalia.
There were seven Polish ladies on this outing; one was a lady I had had my eye on all cruise. As we mingled, it became apparent we were both attracted to one another. But as the day wore on, I became increasingly frustrated at the language difficulties. She spoke no English, and I did not know a word of Polish.
As you can imagine, I was extremely horny and frustrated by the end of the day when we returned to the ship. I escorted my mother to the cabin, then walked around the upper decks to allay my frustration. At the end of my walk, I ran into Wendy, walking along the corridor. She was returning from the Gym. I hugged her, kissed each cheek, and told her she looked stunning, "What a figure," I said.
As we returned to our cabins, I kept piling on the compliments. Wendy blushed and looked embarrassed, but I saw she was enjoying the attention. When we got to our cabins, she opened her door, and I leaned over and pushed it open for her as they were heavy. As she went past me, I grabbed her bum and gave it a cheeky squeeze, and as I let the door go, I saw her husband waving hello, and she gave me a cheeky wiggle of her bum.
I turned and entered my cabin, but I wondered what would have happened if I had followed her into their cabin.
The next day, with only four days of the cruise left, I stepped out of the lift just before lunch to see our neighbours disappearing to their cabin ahead of me. I sped up to catch them and approached Wendy just as hubby opened the door. I put my hands on her shoulders and dug my thumbs into the muscles on each side of her spine. I kneaded into them, which drew a sigh of, "Oh! That's nice. I do hope that is you, Dave."
Hubby looked at me, "She loves a massage. She's been complaining about the cost of massages on the ship and the fact we can't afford them."
"Well, I've worked giving massages, so I'm happy to oblige anytime," I replied.
Vittorio motioned for me to enter with them, so I followed, still kneading Wendy's shoulders. She hesitated as we got alongside their bed and said, "It would be nice, but I really couldn't."
Vittorio immediately piped up, "Don't be silly. He's offering you a free massage. We have nothing else to do."
So, while the iron was hot, I nudged her to their bed and told her to lie face down. She was still a little reluctant, but with hubby just nodding at her to go on, she turned to me and asked if she had to remove any clothes.
I told her that it was up to her. She could leave everything on, but it's always much better on bare skin. She just turned away from me and removed her white top, which was not as big a deal as I first thought, as she had her bikini on, so I told her to take off the skirt as well. She dropped the skirt and revealed a yellow string bikini with ties at the sides. It wasn't all that brief, but it still had this old bastard's blood pumping.
As she lay face down, I asked, "I don't suppose you have any oil?"
Vittorio says, "Yes, Wendy has some in the bathroom." He returns with two beach towels and a tall bottle with flowers visible in the body oil. He helped her to stand again, laid down the towels, and then directed her back onto the towels. I noticed she was giving him dirty looks.
I rubbed my hands together to warm them, then rubbed oil into her shoulders and massaged some knots I could feel. After about ten minutes, I asked her if it was all right, "Not too hard, is it?"
She sounded slightly surprised, "No, it's just the right pressure. You really do know how to massage. I'm sorry I doubted you."
"Not just a pretty face." Was my corny reply, and I moved down her spine, searching out tight areas and kept applying oil as it soaked in. I was having to miss the strap of her bikini bra. So I asked if we could undo it as I didn't want to get oil on it. She went to reach back, but I stopped her and said, "Just relax," and indicated to Vittorio to come and undo it, as I had oil on my hands.
