Chapter 3 : A Journey Down Under with a Couple of Interesting Layovers

We flew out of Luton instead of Heathrow. I wanted Mel to be able to bring her family out onto the tarmac to watch us depart. Her family is very important to her and the sisters were all lined up next to her mother waving as we boarded the jet. Her dad had to work of course.

Before both of the turbofan engines even started, Mel’s mother had her head buried in the shoulder of Mel’s twenty-two-year-old sister Sarai, which was touching. My mother and father would have come down to see me off, but I told them that this was a business, and I did not want to make it into a major family event. We are a family of adventurers and explorers and this was just one more voyage for us.

My father is an old soldier and he GOT the fact that I was treating this like all of the combat missions he had ever flown. So, I did not want to make a fuss. My mother is just plain TOUGH. We had shipped a lot of our essentials to Melbourne via the Organization’s logistical people. I’d rented a Hawker 1000a and we both had plenty of nice things packed into our big High Sierra roller bags. We also had overnight bags that we had carried into the cabin.

I knew that my computing capability would be essential. So, I had an MSI GT70 20LWS in a messenger bag slung on my back with the processor and storage capacity to support anything cyber that I needed to do, including the ninja hacking I am expert in. Everything onboard was fully encrypted 256 AES.

Mel went up the ladder and almost fell into the cabin. She said with wonder in her voice, “I have never been on an airplane before, but this doesn’t look like the pictures.” I laughed lovingly. There were the usual leather couches, full bar and plush airline seats. The items that WEREN’T in the plane were any other people.

I knocked on the cabin door and told the pilots that we were ready to leave and then I followed Mel back down the space between the couch and the workstation area. I told her to strap into the other seat, which was in the back of the cabin near the bar/kitchenette area. I was still utterly amused. Since Mel had no idea what commercial travel was like she probably thought that everybody who got into an airplane strapped themselves into three-foot-wide soft leather seats.

The Hawker is very fast and light so during takeoff the bumps on the runway are more noticeable than they would be if you were in a commercial jumbo-jet. Mel was plastered in her seat with a look of absolute terror on her face as we did the short roll out and then rotated into a 45 degree pull up into a banking right turn.

As the pilots leveled off for the climb to 38,000 feet things in the cabin got a little LESS rambunctious and Mel began to look less green. I laughed and said, “You’ll get used to it. Imagine what that is like crammed into a metal tube with 200 total strangers.” She still looked fragile. So, I said, “I know that it’s only 7:30 in the morning but let me give you a drink to steady your nerves.”

I had specifically requested that there be no cabin stewards. So, I got up and went to the bar and fixed a couple of fingers of Blue for both of us. I didn’t need to have my nerves steadied, but I DO like the taste. The 2,000-mile trip from London to Istanbul took a little under four hours. Mel looked out the window with wonder. She was gaining confidence by the second.

She had never been away from her family and she had never been on an airplane. Plus, she was flying over 10,000 miles from home. I would have expected her to be frightened and even a little weepy, but she was rapidly becoming the cheerful, jaunty, comeback artist that I knew and loved. I was working on my laptop, basically reviewing the mission brief as well as finalizing my plans for the evening in Istanbul.

My mother told me a very interesting story about HER first time in Istanbul. Dad was a professor back then and he and my mom had been traveling to the usual interesting places during his summer off. That was just before he was called up for Desert Storm and we thought we’d lost him for good.

Anyhow mother claims that I was conceived in the ancient ruins of the city of Troy. I was totally grossed out by the thought of my parents having sex anywhere, particularly in as public a place as an archaeological dig. But it was terribly romantic. And I DO know that it is the reason why I am named “Helen.”

I had no interest in going out to the site of my alleged conception. But Istanbul is one heck of a place to spend an enjoyable evening. Supposedly the nightlife is the best in the Eastern Mediterranean and I felt like I owed myself one last night. We landed at Ataturk airport four and a half hours after we left Luton. Since Istanbul is a couple of hours ahead of London time, it was actually two PM there. I had a car waiting for us and we were whisked into the Wyndham near Kalamis Marina.

I had selected that place partly on the recommendation of my dad. But I could see that it was in a perfect location to view the city, with the ancient parts of Istanbul right out our marina-side window. It was well before the dinner hour when we arrived at the hotel. I had booked separate rooms mainly because I didn’t want to be bumping into Mel getting ready for the evening. I knew I was going to be living in close quarters with her in our two-bedroom, one-bathroom single girl’s flat in Melbourne and I wanted nothing to do with her girly necessities until then.

I told Mel to put on something for an evening in the Istanbul clubs. I was planning on being more social than I usually am in clubs because I was actually trying to get myself in the mood for my new life in Melbourne. The most difficult part of my assignment was going to be the requirement that I interact with a lot of strangers. That was the reason why having social little Mel along with me was such an important aspect of the mission.

Both of my parents are solitary people who live in their own heads, not socializers. My father has my mother and she appears to be the only person he needs in life. My mother is a little more outgoing, but she does not suffer fools. I inherited all of their DNA plus an attitude about humanity that does not see people as basically good.

Mel, on the other hand, loves people. She does not see people as selfish or self-serving as I do, which is odd since she is the one who has worked all of her life. While I am the one who has been sheltered. I think she is protected by her almost childlike innocence.

When we are in nightclubs and bars, she is the one who is the first person to approach total strangers to say hello. She sees nothing BUT good in people. She is interested in every person she meets and their meaningless little life stories. And she is willing to go as far as necessary to forgive them when they let her down.

I have always just assumed that innocence is a defense mechanism that prevents her from being taken advantage of, simply because nobody could be THAT mean. But it might be that she has interacted with everybody from every part of the spectrum of humankind. As a result, she has extremely fine-tuned sensors that help her judge to the millimeter exactly how people will behave with her and how to get the maximum out of that interaction.

Her natural ability to understand and in some respects manipulate human behavior is a form of survival instinct I suppose, since I have never seen anybody treat her badly. And almost everybody reacts to her with kindliness. There have been studies done that call that innately gifted understanding of how to get the most out of all human relationships an “emotional quotient” or EQ. It functions in the same way as an intelligence quotient does for geniuses. So we are the perfect team because Mel seems to have an EQ that is equivalent to my high IQ.

She came into my room absolutely bubbling with joy. She said, “Have you seen the monuments up on that hill across the bay?” I said, “That’s the Hagia Sophia with the Topkapi Palace next to it.”

I added, “This is a very ancient and historical place, and those buildings are very much a part of it. The Hagia Sophia, that round dome with the minarets was built 1,500 years ago. It was a Greek Orthodox cathedral for 700 years. Then it was a Catholic Cathedral for a while and then it spent 500 years as a Grand Mosque. The Topkapi Palace next to it is a relative newcomer since it is only 600 years old. But the Palace was the nerve center of the Ottoman Empire in its heyday.”

Mel, who is not a history nut, looked bored. So, I said, “I got us a reservation at Reina for 7:00. Put on your best new club gear because the dancing is to die for.” THAT got her interested. She floated back to her room. Mel is so happy all of the time that she seems to float, not walk. We arranged to meet in the lobby in an hour-and-a-half for a twenty-minute trip across the Bosporus to the club.

I was planning on enjoying myself one final night as Hilley Larson. I knew that the next time I went anywhere social I was going to be a graduate engineer in her first job and those kinds of girls don’t live my lifestyle. So, I was going to indulge myself doing what I do best, which is basking in the ambience of a new and exotic place. I had brought along a couple of things that I thought would get the undivided attention of the male population. Hence, after a luxurious bath I selected my gear for the evening.

When I’m clubbing, I like to wear thong and garter belt combinations. Coupled with a nice pair of hose they make me feel sexy. I don’t need any uplift, but I have started wearing shaping bras simply to keep the girls from sloshing around too much when I dance. My mother’s boobs are truly huge. And so, she has to wear industrial strength bras just to keep from accidentally killing somebody with her out of control tits. There is a lot of momentum in that much weight.

Mine are slightly smaller and solider, but they are nonetheless large enough that they have to be corralled in something that will keep them from swinging around wildly as I move. I DID want to show off some cleavage tonight. So, I selected a Dior black mock-neck mini dress with silver studded swoosh and a big cutout in the front that put my cleavage on prominent display. I put on the makeup that highlights my eyes and my admittedly very sexy looking mouth.

I added a liberal sprinkle of the special perfume that my mother and I have made for us in a little perfumery in the 1st Arrondissement in Paris. I have worn that same scent since my mother had it created for me in my 16th year. Even then it seemed to drive the men around me wild. At least I couldn’t wear it around any of the teenage boys because they kept trying to take my blouse off when I had it on.

I looked at myself in the mirror in my short, tight dress. My legs are gorgeous. I have known that since even before everybody started pointing that out. I have done intensive dance training for years and the soccer that I played until I was twenty made my legs and hips about as sleek and muscled as you can get them. My butt also benefitted from all of that work. I keep on top of my two buns with plenty of Pilates each day since I really have the ambition of being able to balance a couple of Champaign glasses on top of them.

I liked what I saw as I turned back and forth checking out all angles and I opened the door and walked down to the lobby. I was a little early so I thought I would sit in the bar and enjoy a quick finger of Blue. As I sat there, I knew I was being checked out. The “male interest” antennae are part of every pretty girl’s sensor array. Finally, a man approached me from my blind spot, which was why I hadn’t spotted him.

He said, “May I join you?” I looked him over. He was maybe 25 years older than me, early 50s or so. He was extremely handsome in that Middle Eastern, big dark flashing eyes and long sensual nose kind of way, with a tinge of grey. The grey made him look extremely distinguished. He had a particularly manly looking chin and a wickedly sensual mouth. I said with interest, “Please sit down.” He sat gracefully and said, “Can I order you another Blue?”

He got points for recognizing what I drank and having the money to pay for another round. I said, “I am waiting for a friend to come down, we have dinner reservations at Reina.” He said, “Really? Then perhaps I can take you there?”

I was not interested in getting in a car with a strange man and I told him that. He laughed and said, “Then by all means let me take you there on my boat. It is in the Marina next door and it is much faster and easier than a cab.” THAT got my attention. I said, “You would be willing to take us there in a boat?” He said, “Certainly, it is no problem and the crew would ensure that we were well chaperoned.” The last part of that sentence had tons of irony in it.

Kamal was at the Wyndham for business, but he thought he would finish the business with a drink. He sold heavy equipment to anybody who could afford it and by the nature of the transactions it was sometimes necessary to meet in out of the way places.

He had just finished a clandestine meeting with a couple of Kurds from across the border in Iraq, when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen walked into the bar and sat down. Kamal was very rich, and he had had many beautiful women but none of them had the perfect combination of face and figure that this one had. She was clearly dressed for the evening in a couture dress that was cut short and tight to emphasize her stunning legs and her round athletic hips and ass.

He had to approach her, even though he assumed she was waiting for a husband. As she sat there, he estimated that she could be anything from 30 to his present age, 51. Her absolute confidence and the way she held herself made him think closer to 40. He asked if he could buy her a drink. He had already noted that she had ordered a shot of Johnny Walker Blue which in that bar cost $125 a shot, so he knew that she had money. She turned and studied him.

He was aware of the fact that he was incredibly handsome. He always complimented his dark good looks with pure white shirts and dark suits. She was close to his height, which was 5’ 10”, which only made her more attractive. When she turned toward him, he noticed those big round breasts for the first time. He thought, “Could any woman be more exquisite?” The scent she was wearing was affecting his judgment, which was bad enough. Then she looked directly at him for the first time.

Based on her dusky coloration he assumed she was Turkish, or perhaps Arab. But Turkish women do not have azure blue eyes. And those eyes were full of penetrating intelligence that he had simply not encountered before. It was intimidating. He was suddenly very, very interested in getting to know this woman better. She told him that she was in Istanbul for an evening before flying on to Mumbai and she was waiting for a girlfriend. She said that the two of them were going to Reina.

Since that was his usual haunt, he offered his car, which she turned down with a certain degree of wariness. So, he offered his boat, which was anchored in the Marina across the road from the hotel.

He had a Regal 53-foot sport coupe that he used for basic transportation around the coast of the Dardanelles and up the Bosporus and the occasional trip into the Black Sea to smuggle product out of the old Soviet Union. He owned most of the Admirals, who were in charge of the elements of the Russian fleet that were based in the Crimea, and so there was no possibility that his voyages would be interrupted.

The boat had a permanent captain and Kamal was sure that she would not turn down a ride in that. Once he had explained that most of the glitterati arrive at Reina by boat, she looked delighted, and suddenly very interested in him. At that point, the second most attractive women he had ever met walked up. This one was almost the exact opposite of Hilley, the woman he had been talking to. This one was Melissa, or Mel.

Mel was clearly from that Anglo-Indian mix that has produced some of the most exotic looking women in history. She had incredible, huge, black eyes and exceptionally thick long beautiful black hair. Her features were very delicate except her mouth which was perhaps best described as sensual. It was the look of total eroticism in that face that got him thinking that maybe this one would be a better bet for the evening. Hilley seemed far too patrician to be interested in a one-night stand.

Mel was much smaller than her friend, with a very tight little body and an extreme hourglass figure. The tits, which were on full display in the colorful bandage dress, made him think of pumpkins, or melons. They were huge, ripe and absolutely delicious looking. And Mel was as warm and friendly, in an almost puppy-like manner, as the other woman was cool, elegant and aloof. Kamal repeated the offer of the boat and little Mel practically wagged that magnificent little behind of hers. So, it was settled, they would arrive at the Club by boat. Kamal was trying to decide which one of these stunning beauties would get the benefit of his all-night attentions.

Mel came up to us just as my mysterious Turkish friend was explaining the boat arrivals at Reina. She looked spectacular. Her coloring invites bright print dresses and the one she was wrapped in was a Gucci number that hugged her round womanly hips and tiny waist. But the main attraction was what was on prominent display in her strapless top.

We had done a little work with undergarments when we were at Harrods. Mel, like every other lower-middle-class girl, had never had any advice about bras. And she could only afford the basics. So, we had a sales assistant “consult” with us about the best way off showing Mel’s absolutely splendid assets; in the most comfortable and classy way possible. Mel was wearing the results of that advice. It was a spectacular mountain vista.

She was bare from the top of her dress to the top of her magnificent head of hair. But a large area of all of that golden café-au- lait colored skin was gathered into the two huge mounds that were her breasts. D’s on a girl like me look impressive and have always drawn men like the proverbial flies to honey. But I am seven inches taller than little Mel and her breasts are equally as big as mine.

So, what was constrained in the top part of that flawlessly contrasting bright print dress and mounded up toward her collar bones was a sight to behold. I could feel my newfound friend’s interest’s shift from me to Mel. I have to admit that it was with a certain degree of relief since I was not interested in sex with him and Mel might be.

The walk across to his boat was perhaps 200 yards. I have to say that the boat was impressive. I have been on big luxurious boats all of my life. But they all have sails on them. This was a cruiser with the top premium features. We sat in the covered upper deck area as the captain steered his way around the ship traffic up the Bosporus. I sat in the swivel deck chair and Mel and the gentleman, whose name we discovered was Kamal, sat together on the attractive leather couch.

I was sipping the scotch that he had on board. It wasn’t bad but not up to my exacting standards. Mel was drinking a Daiquiri. Why anybody in Turkey would drink something that was best suited to a pool deck in the Bahamas was part of Mel’s special charm. He had an Efes which is the top selling beer in Turkey. I did not take his preference for beer as an indication of working class. The people in Anatolia have a tradition of beer that goes back 3,500 years to the Sumerians. In fact, the name of their best seller refers to the biblical Ephesus.

He was a very handsome man and he clearly had wealth and taste. He also was obviously looking to score. I think my polite manner and body language communicated that I was not in the mood. Mel is ALWAYS in the mood. So, he was paying most of his attention to her. She was her usual silly entertaining self.

Mel has a sense of humor that would be more appropriate for a standup comic. She is always ON. And it is almost like her life’s work is to make people laugh. She was flirting with him of course. But it was in a comical teasing manner. Yet, the way she was going about it was generating more sexual tension between the two of them than if she had gone out of her way to talk dirty. And he was responding to that by doing everything but leaving a rope of drool across the magnificent mounds of her breasts.

I was watching Istanbul pass by on both sides of the boat while the twin Cummins diesels were making their sexy hum. I was practically born on a boat and their mechanics are the one thing that I never lose interest in. But I thought our host might be disturbed if one of his guests started digging into his power plant in a couture dress. So instead I just covertly watched everything that the captain was doing; while trying to look disinterested.

I had helmed a seventy-footer all over the Mediterranean the summer of my 20th birthday and so the operation of a fifty-footer was no challenge, particularly since I didn’t need to gauge the wind in order to keep us moving along at a steady 20 knots. But the heavy ship traffic, including a couple of nearby Turkish Frigates was a little intimidating.

We pulled up to the landing at Reina and the captain held us there on the engines while we disembarked. I have no problem with any aspect of boating. So, I just hopped off in my kicky 4-inch pumps. The closest that Mal has been to the water is the Thames and so she had to be literally carried off the boat by our host. The fact that she disembarked that way squashed her giant jugs against his chest while he lifted her. That seemed to be a bonus for both of them.

We were escorted to our reservation, which I had to admit was spectacular. The Maître d’ seemed very familiar with our “extra” and seating was no problem. The food and wine were exquisite. I ordered a couple of bottles of $400 Sancerre French Blonde forgetting that I was supposed to be just a girl traveling with her friend. Kamal gave me a hugely questioning look, so I decided to be straight with him. I said, “Don’t worry about tonight, I can afford it. Just don’t ask why.” Mel of course helpfully added, “Hilley is richer than the Queen herself.” That got me a really speculative glance from our friend.

I produced my black card, which I was going to have to put away in a couple of days and signed for the meal. It was only $1,500 with tip. We went downstairs from where we were eating, just as the club part of the facility was starting up. The advantage of the place is that the dancing is outdoors and on that beautiful evening I couldn’t think of a better venue.

I have my mother’s instincts on a dance floor. I just head for the middle with my arms raised over my head and my hips wiggling and begin to dance. It is not long before I have a partner, or a number of partners. I looked at Mel and she was dancing with Kamal. I was planning on taking a cab back. So, I was done with him. But it was obvious that Mel wanted to continue the relationship and I gave her my best wishes.

She is not a dancer, like I am. She just bounces up and down and gyrates like most girls. But with her exotic, almost erotic beauty and that incredible body she never lacks for company.

I will normally only dance with somebody who can accompany me. I am not interested in bumping up against some guy who can’t really move unless I am winding him up. I had danced for an hour or so with a couple of men who really knew how to complement a partnership and I was eager to continue that process when a big Turkish guy more-or-less warned the other men away from me.

Then he began to dance with me. He moved like a musk ox. I started to dance away from him when, without missing a beat, he grabbed my arm and placed me right back in front of him. Apparently, he wanted me to dance ONLY with him.

There are several ways for a girl to handle something like that, including trying to run away, crying, or calling for the manager. But I learned at the feet of the master, meaning my mom.

So, I thought, “Okay my friend. Game on!” I turned and backed into him, giving him the benefit of my rapidly twitching buns. Then I snap-turned and rubbed my big tits all over his chest. His eyes actually glazed, and he began to pant. I snap-turned again and began bumping my ass against his rapidly expanding interest down there, just like I was responding to his humping me. Then I snap-turned and began to rub my pussy on his crotch while gyrating my hips like a lap dancer. At that point he was bigger than all outdoors and his eyes had gone totally out of focus.

I put my arms around his neck and leaned back, while still moving my hips like I was humping him. He started to reach for me and I laughed loudly, let go of his neck and danced away into the crowd not missing a beat, while shaking my finger at him in a “naughty-naughty” gesture.

He was in no shape to immediately follow me. So, I quickly disappeared into the throng around us. Then, when I was sure that I was temporarily out of his sight, I walked over to the bar and sat. He was looking at all of the dancing females trying to find me. I knew it wouldn’t occur to him to look into the bar area. I wondered how long it would take for his painfully obvious erection to die down.

I had another drink and then decided I would find Mel. The music had changed to a slow tune and she was draped against our new friend Kamal, with her arms around his neck, her boobs absolutely squashed against his chest. She was dancing with him with the dreamiest look in her eye. I thought, “Uh-oh, she’s drunk and horny.”

I waited until the song was over and walked up to the two of them. I said, “I’m getting out of here before there’s trouble and I am going to have to take Mel with me.” As I turned to go I bumped into a wall, which then materialized into my last dancing partner. He was pissed. He began to call me names in Turkic. I got the gist, “How dare you wind me up like that and then just leave me there holding my cock!!”

He was sufficiently angry that I was beginning to decide whether my first strike would be to his solar plexus, or his throat, or maybe I should just kick him in the balls and get the whole thing over with. Kamal said something to him in Oghuz. My friend looked at Kamal like he was going to hit him and then he seemed to recognize who he was talking to.

In approximately six nanoseconds, he went from completely pissed off to groveling obsequious. In fact, he seemed to be begging for his life. Kamal continued to converse with him very gently in Turkic and the guy was backing away as fast as he could. Then he literally turned and ran. I looked at Kamal thinking “Turkish underworld” or “Muslim paramilitary?” He looked at me like, “We all have our little secrets, don’t we?”

All three of us walked over to the bar area. Mel was pretty tipsy, but not passing out drunk. She weighs all of 105 and she had been drinking along with the rest of us. Plus, her drinks were sugary and that never helps with sobriety. I said, “We really need to go home my little friend.” Kamal volunteered, “We can take her back on the boat. I’ll call the captain and he will be waiting at the boat landing.”

I thought about the trouble of wrestling a drunken Mel into and out of the cab and I thought, “What a wonderfully kind offer, even if you are only doing it to have sex with her, or me, or both of us.” The boat was waiting as we walked Mel to it. He swung her on board Like Fabio does in every bodice ripper and carried her down to the forward stateroom where he deposited her on the bed.

She gave a loud cry, which had “highly aroused” in every nuance of it, threw her arms around his neck and dragged him down on top of her while wildly kissing him. I discretely closed the door. The boat started up and we began to make our way down the Bosporus. I was sitting on the couch in the lower deck lounge holding a nightcap and watching the European side of the peninsula slide peacefully past.

I was really not in the mood for sex. I was still assessing my situation with William, not that that would have prevented me from having sex with another man if I felt like it. In this case though, I just didn’t feel it. Apparently, Mel had been thinking about having sex all night.

I heard the sound of rustling, which could only be the two of them getting out of their clothes. Then there were whispers and an occasional gasp and moan. Then the moaning started up in earnest, along with the kind of squishy noises and the occasional gagging sound that would accompany somebody slurping on a lollipop or trying to swallow one whole.

The picture of THAT in my head got me to move out onto the couch on the covered area of the upper deck. I was sitting on that couch sipping a drink and watching the ship traffic in the Golden Horn when I heard a loud moan and an “OHHH YESSS FUCK ME!” from the direction of the cabin. I had to smile.

I couldn’t move any further away from the scene of the action without actually jumping over the transom. So, I just sat there and tried to ignore the loud moans and wild cries and the basso profundo grunts issuing from inside the cabin 20 feet away. The pounding, lurid vocalizing and wall banging went on in there for about a half hour. Finally, there was a shriek from the bottom of Mel’s soul and an “AHHHHH YESSSS III’MMM COOOOMING!!” which was loud enough that it probably startled the pigeons off the roof of the Hagia Sophia, that was followed by what sounded like the noise of an elk in rut.