I always wanted to take a Mediterranean cruise, specifically one that visited the places mentioned in Homer’s epic poem, “The Odyssey.” But my longtime girlfriend never wanted to go.
So, after the two of us split, I decided to make my dream happen and booked the trip. I would travel alone, soaking up the sun and thinking about anything but women. How ironic then that I would end up having a torrid sexual adventure with a stunning female.
My journey began at the site of ancient Troy in Turkey, and for ten days the ship would visit various Greek locales, including where Homer’s main character Odysseus and his men supposedly met the Cyclops, and the island where Calypso, the sea nymph, kept Odysseus in a sexual stupor for seven years. The cruise even gave us travelers homework; we had a list of recommended texts to ensure we understood the historic and literary importance of our stops. I spent a few days rereading the poem and was psyched.
But from the very first day of the cruise I realized I would be distracted. One of the tour guides, a graduate student in Classics who had actually read the poem in the original Greek, was an absolutely stunning beauty. I haven’t been in college for quite a few years, but this woman, Joy, was everything any man could desire. Not only was she beautiful and intelligent, she was completely charming and laughed at my jokes.
She was employed by the cruise company and stayed on the ship for the duration. That meant not only would I see her each day on the tours and excursions, she’d be there on the boat at night. Suddenly, I didn’t care about the Cyclops at all as I imagined Joy naked in my arms.
The cruise guests were mostly elderly people. I was the youngest — and also the only one traveling solo. Therefore, at dinner, I gravitated toward Joy to avoid being adopted by one of the older couples as some sort of surrogate son. She seemed to enjoy my company, so I didn’t feel like I was bugging her.
When we visited Calypso’s island and she helped me into “Calypso’s Cave” (I’m a little claustrophobic), I think a corner was turned. She held my hand while we went in, and when I came out, with my heart pounding, she had an arm wrapped around me. An old lady looked at us, smiled and said we were a cute couple. I, breathing heavily, said, “Yes, she’s my Calypso.”
I called her Calypso for the rest of the trip, and on our penultimate night I made sure she knew what cabin I was in. I wasn’t going to make an ass of myself by hitting on her and left the choice to her. If she didn’t come, I’d just jerk off thinking about her.
Around midnight there was a soft knock on my door. “Who is it?” I asked stupidly, climbing out of bed.
“Calypso,” came Joy’s reply.