Voyage of Self Discovery Ch. 06

Copyright © March 2019 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Author's Notes

Foreword #1: All sexually active characters in this story are over 18.

Foreword #2: This is a story and intended purely for pleasure.

Foreword #3: This is a sixth chapter in the Voyage of Self Discovery series. Although there is a little recap at the start of the story, you may want to read the earlier parts to get up to speed with the journey so far.

Foreword #4: This story was inspired from a suggestion from a fellow reader, Bablee, whose name I have used in the story but for no other purpose than having a name for a character.

Foreword #5: Please note that there is no sex per se in this chapter. Please do not be disappointed.

Foreword #6: Thank you so much to mbrow for being kind enough to read the draft story and provide his edits. Very much appreciated.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was my darling husband who bought me this notebook, leather bound with gold trimmings, as an homage to my fifty years. It was my darling husband who also suggested I put it to good use. He even bought the pen that I have been using to write my memoirs. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember that it is a real story and one in which I was the centre of all attention.

So now my love life is better than it's ever been — okay, now that I am a little over fifty it is more about the quality than the quantity, but it is still better than ever. In my time away, I learnt much about myself and even more about my relationship with my darling husband.

My introduction to this new world had been tentative to say the least. It started with a stranger on the top deck of a cruise ship. As I watched his wife getting ravaged by another's cock, he sat unperturbed and pleasured me past the point of no return. Even his explanation took me by surprise at the time, although now I can fully connect with what he said.

"That's what makes our love so much stronger. It is a matter of trust and freedom. We love each other so intimately, but sometimes in a relationship you just need a little bit more. That's where the freedom comes into it. We are both free to be ourselves, together or apart, yet we know we will come back to each other happier and stronger."

It was one of the crew who really set the wheels in motion, becoming my tutor on this journey. Her name was Melodee and the lessons had already begun, first in her cabin and then a wonderful evening in the company of her and a guest by the name of John. Had it answered all my questions? For sure some had been answered, but others had risen to the surface taking their place.

An evening with Paul, the stranger who started the whole affair, did answer many of the remaining questions. Most importantly, I felt just what it was like to be ravaged by another. So, was that the end of the journey? Far from it. I had now tasted my new life and couldn't wait to taste it once more. That was something Melodee was already arranging.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, how could it be? Here I was, a middle-aged housewife behaving like an excitable teenager on their birthday morning. I just couldn't help myself.

'Today's the day,' kept running over and over in my mind.

I glanced down at the slip of paper held tightly in my hand. It was the note that Melodee had left under my door the night before. I lingered on every word. There was something both enticing and exciting about that simple message.

"Bablee, I have what you want. Come around and see me when you are free. Melodee."

"PS: Do you have something to tell me, Bablee? How about . . . how you've got yourself noticed before you've even started."

A simple note, a functional note, yet one which sent my heart racing every time I read it. Before long, I was like an actress trying to memorise my lines for some sort of play. Surely, by what must have been the twentieth time, I knew every word off by heart. Maybe that was the problem. I knew that Melodee had what I wanted, but I knew I had to wait. It was Sunday after all and not everybody would be an early bird like myself.

'The early bird catches the worm, but the late bird catches the fucking snake,' suddenly filled my mind.

I chuckled to myself as I considered this opportune sexual innuendo. Yes, I had for sure had the fucking snake that Friday night. No, not a fucking snake, it was more a rampant serpent than a meagre snake. Just thinking about it gave me butterflies.

So now, I was going to take my next steps on my voyage, going public with my newly discovered desires. Melodee had said that she could arrange the necessary, and the now crinkled piece of paper in my hand told me that she had been true to her word. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It read ten fifteen, and in my book anything after ten counted as a reasonable time of morning, whatever the day.

A matter of minutes later I was standing outside of her cabin, hand raised ready to rap on the door. I stopped, an envelope taped to the front caught my attention. It had a single word written on the outside. A single name . . . my name. I pulled it off, took out the hand-written note from inside and started to read.

"I didn't know what time you would come around Bablee, so I thought I would leave a note on the door just in case I hadn't gotten back from the night before."

My mind wondered. What time had she pushed the first note under my door? I had assumed it was this morning, but had it been last night and had Melodee been out ever since? I guess I had turned in rather early, but all night? What could she have been up to for so long? Or was this just another service that we offered, sleeping with the guests? I turned my attention back to the note.

"I will be back by lunchtime, for sure, but I have made arrangements which will keep you busy for a while. Go and find Tanya in the Serenity Spa. She knows what to do and she'll take good care you. Catch you later, Melodee."

Not having any pockets in the skirt I was wearing, I slipped the folded envelope inside my bra and set off in search of Tanya.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later, and three decks down into the bowels of the ship, I walked into the spa. It was on the same level as the kid's club where I usually worked, so I had to be careful not to be spotted for fear of being dragged onto an unplanned shift. On the same level, and literally only a matter of metres away from my normal workplace, yet this was the first time I had ever crossed its mantle.

The door closed behind me and I glanced around the reception. There was a sort of clinical feel to the furnishings, softened only by the warm glow of subtle lighting. I guess it was all that I expected of a reception. There was a desk in front of me, albeit not occupied at the moment, a waiting area with comfy chairs, low tables covered with a collection of beauty mags, and then a corridor running off into the distance. I could only imagine that this was where the treatment rooms were.

At this time of morning it was quiet down there, more desolate than quiet, and I wondered if indeed the spa was open.

"Hello," I called out, but there was no reply.

What was I to do now? The note had definitely said to come down and ask for Tanya, but there was nobody here to ask. I called out once more, but again without any acknowledgement. Should I just walk down the corridor and try a few doors? Or maybe I should just come back later? I had almost settled on the latter when a notice on the reception desk caught my eye. It was the usual 'ring the bell if nobody is here' sort of message. Sitting next to the notice, almost invisible to the glancing eye, was the sort of button which might have been found on the outside of a house door. I pressed it once and waited.

How long had I waited? I really wasn't sure. I had rung the bell, as the notice had requested, but there hadn't even been an audible sound to say that it had registered. Should I press it again? Should I just keep on waiting? Or, maybe I should just come back later? It was Sunday morning after all, and the place did seem dead. I'd almost made up my mind to do the latter when a noise somewhere in the distance suggested there was somebody around. I rang the bell once more, holding it down for a second or two longer than I really needed to. It seemed to do the trick.

I heard a door open and close, then watched as a tall figure emerged out of the darkness. It wasn't what I expected of a Tanya. I hadn't really formed a full image in my mind, but what little imagery I had, suggested that she wasn't a six foot plus brute of a man. I glanced at his badge and read his name. Anthony—spelled out in black letters on a gold background, that was his name—looked like he would be more at home as a lifeguard at the pool than here in the spa.

"I'm sorry, we're opening a little later today. Is there something I can help you with?" came a welcoming yet practical greeting.

Now my mind was wondering. Had I read the note correctly? Was it Tanya I was looking for or had she written Tony? I glanced him up and down. Inside, I smiled. It wouldn't be the end of the world if it was Tony, I said to myself. He was rather dishy after all and maybe he had the prowess to go with his physique. I smiled back.

"Yes, well, maybe," I replied. "I was looking for Tanya. Do you know if she is going to be here today?"

They say a picture paints a thousand words, well his smile told of much more than him being pleased to help. It was a smile which told of a hidden pleasure, a moment of delight as he reflected on what I had just asked. I had to imagine that it was the name Tanya which had brought the smile to his lips and not the fact that I was the one asking for Tanya. Did Tanya even exist or had I been sent on a wild goose chase.

"Did you say Tanya?"

"Yes," I replied. "I was left a note to come down and ask for Tanya. Apparently Melodee had made all the arrangements and Tanya would be expecting me. My name is . . ."

"Bablee," he continued, finishing off my sentence and taking me rather by surprise.

"How did you know?" I asked him.

"Ah, well, it's always memorable when young Melodee pays us a visit. That night was no different. We were just packing up for the night when she popped in to ask for a personal favour. Well, when Melodee wants a favour you know she'll find a way to make sure you're adequately rewarded."

I watched as his eyes glazed over and that smile appeared on his face once more. It was like he had dipped momentarily into his own dreamworld before jumping back to reality.

"So," Anthony asked, "was it Tanya you were looking for?"

"Yes," I replied.

"You'll find her in treatment room seven. She should be dressed by now and waiting for you."

I glanced down the corridor.

"Yep, down there. It's the last room on the left. You won't be disappointed with our Tanya. She's one of the best."

"Thank you, Anthony," I replied, heading off towards the treatment rooms.

It was only as I walked away that his last words sank in. 'Dressed by now,' what exactly did he mean by that? Why would she not have been dressed? Or did he mean that she would have changed by now, into whatever uniform they wore down here. But why would you make a point of talking about something so mundane? Then there was the delay in Anthony answering the bell when I rang it. Where had he come from? One of the treatment rooms for sure, but which one? God, I had one slutty mind. I almost had the two of them getting up to mischief in one of the treatment rooms whilst I waited in the reception. Had my ringing of the bell put an end to some naughty goings on? Surely not.

What is it they say about your ears burning if somebody is talking about you? Well, is the same true about eyes? As I walked into the shadows, I swore that I could feel his eyes staring at me, burning gently into my back. Was he watching me or was it just a guilty conscience trying to tell me I shouldn't be here at my age? Either way, I gave a little swing of the hips as I strode along. If he was keeping an eye on me then I might as well give him my best side to look at. A glance over my shoulder told me it was more than just my sixth sense. Leaning forward on the reception desk, head in hands, there was Anthony watching my every move. I smiled at him, then went back to looking for treatment room seven.

My mind was now wondering. He had mentioned that Melodee had asked for a personal favour. What kind of favour had she asked for? Then there was the other obvious question. What else had she told him? I had to assume that Tanya knew everything, but was he also aware about my wish to become one of the black shirts? And, if she knew, and he knew, then who else had Melodee told? The strange thing though is that I wasn't worried about it anymore, just curious.

I glanced at the door in front of me, a large silver seven telling me I was here. Rapping my knuckles on the wood I listened for a reply.

"Come in, Bablee," came a young sounding voice from somewhere inside.

I took a deep breath, I don't know why, and reached for the handle. In my mind I was already trying to build up a picture of Tanya, with only that soft young voice to go on. I could see her now. She'd be young enough to be my daughter, petite in stature with long blonde hair. I guess Tanya, or at least my imaginary impression of the young lady, was nothing more than a mini Melodee.

The door opened and I walked into an empty treatment room. Treatment room? Dimly lit and bedecked in polished pine, this had a real touch of Scandinavia spa about it rather than the clinical ambience of any treatment room. An enormous soft-topped table, covered with the largest towel I had ever seen, dominated the centre of the room. A subtle floral aroma, sensual tones underlying the sweet fragrance, added to the relaxing tone.

"Hello?" I called out, wondering where the young voice had come from.

The reply came from a room off to one side.

"Sit yourself down and make yourself comfortable, Bablee. I'm just grabbing a few things and I'll be with you in a minute. Is the temperature okay?"

"Yes, yes, it's fine," I replied, wondering why she was interested in the temperature of what was a pleasantly warm room.

I plonked myself down on the edge of the treatment table, folding one leg over the other, and waited. A matter of moments later I was joined by a young woman, dressed in a mid-thigh length black tunic with a single row of silver buttons running up one side. Something caught my eye though. It wasn't the single button, next to top, being left undone and suggesting a rush to get dressed. What actually fascinated me was the shortness of her top. I just couldn't help but stare at her toned legs as they disappeared up inside. I was so transfixed on her legs that I had barely registered the large silver tray, its contents hidden under a white cloth, which she was carrying.

"Tanya?" I asked, eyeing the young woman up and down. She wasn't quite the vision that I had conjured up in my mind. I was right about the petiteness, as Tanya couldn't have been much over five feet tall and a definite size eight or even less. Long blonde hair? Not quite. This Tanya had shoulder length bobbed black hair. Young enough to be my daughter? Again, not quite. I'd have put her somewhere in the late twenties. And then there was one other difference, one that I hadn't even imagined. It was the eyes. Tanya was most definitely of Far Eastern origin, not that her accent gave away too many clues.

"Yes, I'm Tanya. Good to have you here. Melodee told me so much that I feel I already know you, Bablee."

"Already know me?" I responded, quite perplexed with her familiarity. "What has Melodee been saying?"

"Well, lots of things. She told me about the two of you, about your wish to broaden your experiences, and about your fantasy with your stranger."

I gasped. Was there anything she hadn't told?

"She told me how beautiful you were, a real natural beauty both inside and out. I hope you don't mind me saying that she was right on that. Then she mentioned what you had asked of her. Is it true Bablee? Was it what you wanted?"

"You mean . . . do I still want to learn, to continue to broaden my experiences as you mentioned? Yes, I asked Melodee to teach me more."

"Actually, I was talking more about wearing the black shirt. Is that really you, Bablee? You do know what it means, don't you?"

I was a bit frustrated, to say the least. Who was this mere whippersnapper to be questioning what I wanted? Why did she think she had the experience to doubt my intentions?

"Yes, Tanya, I know what it is I want. Anyone would think you were trying to put me off. Is that what Melodee asked you to do? Did she want you to convince me that I should act like a middle-aged mother and drop this idea of being a dirty little slut. If that is what she asked for, then she is going to be most disappointed. It is my choice. I never expected to have found such feelings, but now that I have, I am not going to let them go once more. Maybe you can't understand what it means to me, or maybe it is wrong of me to expect anyone to understand. It's just . . . it's just . . . just what I need to do."

I'd said my piece and was climbing down from my soapbox. Tanya though just stood there, her eyes looking deep into mine as if trying to read my innermost thoughts. I looked at her, half furious and half bemused. Again, I pondered, why had this little Asian beautician thought it was her place to lecture me on how I should live my own life. If she really didn't approve then what was it to her? After all, I wasn't looking for her to join me.

Slowly, the tiniest of grins formed across Tanya's sweet lips. Before long, that grin had broadened out into a full smile.

"Oh, my dear Bablee. She didn't ask anything of the sort. What Melodee asked was that I got you ready to wear your black shirt. The rest was my doing."

"Why, Tanya? Why try to put me off?"

"Put you off? I guess it was more a case of wanting to know how serious you were. Was this really what you wanted? You see, I have my own black shirt, so I know what it comes with."

"You have a black shirt? Why? You have a great job in the spa. Why do you need to be like that?"

She laughed.

"Oh, you have so much to learn about people. I probably should be asking you the same. Well, in my case this is a real step up from where I was before."

"What do you mean? Didn't you choose to work in a spa?"

"Oh, sometimes you don't get to choose. Life has a habit of dealing you a hand of cards and they are not always the ones you would have chosen. Back in Shanghai, yes that's where I am from, I didn't have much to my name. What little I did have came from the massage parlours. It wasn't the sort of life you would choose for yourself, not the glamourous image that places like this have. Can you imagine what it was like?"

"No, I can't think of it. I guess I had a comfortable life, everything I needed, at least enough to live the normal life that people expect of you. It was only recently that the money dried up, when Javed had his accident. It must have been so different to what you had."

"I think so, Bablee. Let me paint you a picture. What's the word . . . yes, that's it . . . they were seedy places. Dingy, shabby and full of middle-aged men, some single, most married, but all trying to escape for a moment or two. You, well you were there to make them happy. A little massage to ease away the pressures of life. Five, ten, maybe fifteen on a busy day. You made enough to get by, but if you wanted more then all you had to do was ask."