"Hmm, what's this?"
I was just slipping out of my dress and was poised to ease my flesh into the fishnet creation, when I spotted the little book in the bottom of the case. It wasn't included in the list of contents so it seemed to be a free gift. How nice. There was an arty photograph of a well-trussed Japanese girl on the front cover. "Self Bondage" by Ty Tilasing. Now, there was something I'd never tried before. Never really saw the appeal, to be truthful.
I peered round the bathroom door but the cabin was empty. My other half must have nipped out to fetch some supplies. A wicked thought entered my mind. I'd gift-wrap myself for my husband's pleasure. Eager to prepare myself for Harry's return, I wriggled my warm and willing body into the fishnet body stocking, then replaced my high-heeled shoes. The busty creature in the bathroom mirror squeezed her bodacious DD-cups through the silky spider's web and wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. I remembered a particularly popular stage routine in which I wore a very similar suit. I'd invite a guy up onto the stage and offer him the end of the thread. He had three minutes to unravel what he could and what flesh he uncovered he could lick when the time was up. Most guys got hopelessly tangled, to widespread amusement, but usually managed to reveal a boob or two. One smooth mover actually got me naked. It was the only time I had my pussy licked to orgasm on stage and it was really rather incredible. I always wondered whether he made fishing nets for a living.
Flipping through the little bondage book, I opted for a wildly draconian yet relatively simple to achieve option called 'Up amp; Under.' In the accompanying photograph, the long-suffering Japanese girl stood stoically on a wooden chair, her wrists attached to an overhead rail. There were small metal clamps on her nipples and her clit and a bright blue ball gag in her mouth. Her legs were spread, the ankles rather fetchingly roped to the back of the chair. A huge pink dildo, just like the one in my Vixen Valise, had been inserted deep into her sweet little pussy and her eyes were glazed. Smiling to myself, I fetched a footstool from the cabin and placed it beneath the shower curtain rail. Then I set to work with the book propped open for reference and the box of sensual delights…
I shot down the corridor and out onto the deck with a beckoning cry on my lips. It was stillborn as no one but a bunch of staggering Cleveland pensioners met my roving eye. They seemed to be trying to imitate Jay's dance. I averted my gaze rapidly.
A quick reconnaissance would do no harm. I knew that Jay getting into war regalia could be a time-consuming procedure. She was nothing if not a perfectionist. All the same, I would have to keep my skates on to be back in time for some serious kinkiness.
The nearest door led to the Sharp End Bar. As good a place as any for a lady to seek shelter from the night. I pushed open the heavy weather-proof door and cast my eyes around. Some late revelers I had not yet had the pleasure of meeting slurped their late night bourbon. I marked them down for introductions and jollies later in the cruise.
I was about to resume my search elsewhere when I caught sight of a solitary figure propping up the bar. He had a glass of amber liquid in his hand and a lugubrious expression on his face. A brief diversion with my detective hat on was called for – seize the moment, and all that.
"Good evening again, Doctor. What will you have?"
"Glen Tipplet, and I thank ye, sir. Mr. Neptune, isn't it? My eyes are nae what they used to be."
His eyes were nae what they used to be a couple of hours ago, but everyone to his own. This looked like a nightly performance. I ordered the same.
"So what's the story on the deceased Spaniard? Who pulled the trigger?"
"That's a mystery, laddie. A complete mystery. Ah'm baffled."
Befuddled more like. He leaned toward me confidentially.
"Och, and there's another mystery. When the clumsy sailors dumped his deid body on the sick bay table a sliver of wood fell to the floor. The silly Jack Tar who picked it up pricked his fool finger and fell in convulsions on the floor. He's a lucky wee boy it was no more than a prick. He'll live wi' a tale to tell."
"Are you telling me someone fired a poison dart at Lothario? As well as the bullet? How did they do that in those few seconds of darkness?"
Doctor Dunnett waved a hand vaguely and more whisky appeared. He did the confidential lean again.
"It's my theory there were two assassins!"
I was fascinated.
"I'm fascinated, Doctor. On what do you base your theory?"
"On the fact that the bullet entered the front of him and the wee dart was stuck in the back of his neck!"
The Doctor leaned triumphantly on the bar.
The plot thickened. So Raoul had two enemies aboard, or at least two people with a practical bent who wished him deid – sorry, dead.
I tried to place everyone in the dining room at the moment the lights went out, but that would have to wait for tomorrow and a corroborator. My attention had been on Miss Swat's imminent orgasm and my wife's wild dance.
Talking of Miss Swat – that was enough sleuthing for one evening. I had my wife's wedding present to round up. I bade Doctor Dunnett good night, though I doubted if he was still capable of registering my presence. I returned to the deck and immediate reward.
Miss Swat was in the bow of the ship, hair blowing back and dress pressed against her body by the wind of our passage. This was a moment for long gazing at the horizon, for secretly held hands, for adoring looks, for romance and everlasting love.
I grabbed her arm and dragged her away.
"My cabin, now, fucky-fucky time!"
"Oh my, Mr. Neptune! This is such a suhprise! What is a po' Southern girl to do?"
"Drop 'em and lick everything in sight."
That idea didn't seem to horrify her. She followed me eagerly to the cabin.
Miss Lawrence had had plenty of time to change and titivate, but there was no sign of her. Well, I had been rather a long time with the Doctor, but it was in a good cause. I was sure she would understand. Anyway, it looked like she had taken the hump and gone for a constitutional or some other entertainment. As a dutiful husband it was my beholden duty to search her out and make the peace. I turned to instruct Miss Swat to make herself comfortable while I searched, when my hair was grasped in two taloned hands and I was pulled off balance and down.
From tell-tales such as a yielding surface and the smell of hot sex I gathered Miss Swat had pulled me down on top of her on the bed and was doing her best to insert me head first into her pussy. In such a situation there is only one thing a gentleman can do. I pushed my tongue as far into her vagina as it would go and got licking.
Miss Swat was already making a fair amount of noise when I moved north and addressed her clitoris. In no time at all her legs were wrapped around my shoulders and she was bucking and yelling in the throes of a mighty climax. Her heels drummed against my back. It was a good job my hair is thick and strong or she would have pulled out handfuls of it.