Page 20

‘Orgasmed out,’ Lucy says.

‘I was going to say you have a bit of colour in your cheeks…’ Grace continues.

‘That’s the sun,’ I jest.

I return to the pool where the remaining sisters have already cracked open a bottle of red. I collapse onto a sun lounger, burying my face into the towel where Carlos was laying. Don’t inhale like some saddo. Don’t fall for him, Suzie. It’s too soon. Don’t be that person.

‘Well, we want details, dear cousin…’ Meg says. ‘Because I had to go stand in a field and pretend I was in some deep tr ance state of ecstasy while some woman clanged on a bowl. We need to live vicariously through you.’

I laugh but in some sort of strange delirium, I kick my legs around like a toddler unable to control their emotions. I can hear all the sisters laughing. ‘Magnifique. Chef’s kiss. All the superlatives.’

They all sit there quietly, beaming.

‘I’ll need more than that,’ Lucy says, getting comfortable on her sun lounger.

‘You know there’s a moment between two people where it’s just…’ I can’t find the word and growl instead. They all nod. ‘And then it’s just clothes flying off and just plain old-fashioned…’

‘Rutting?’ Meg says. Lucy howls with laughter.

‘That is an awful word, Meg,’ Emma argues. ‘That’s what sheep do.’

‘No, I get Meggers here,’ Lucy adds. ‘Sometimes it’s primal and hot and grabbing and all your reservations about your body just go out the window. That’s some hot sex.’

‘He knew where my clitoris was. He knew what to do with it,’ I continue.

There’s a sharp intake of breath around the pool.

We all know that’s not an immediate thing.

The pressure, the movement – that can take months, sometimes years to teach.

I may be spoiled for life now if I have to compare any sexual experience to that, ever again.

My head is still spinning. I take a large gulp of wine.

‘It’s the Europeans, they’re just educated differently,’ Beth says. ‘You know, when you see him next, just ask him again if he went to college in London. I have a feeling I know him from somewhere.’

‘He does look a bit like that bloke from that medical show – the Italian one…’ Grace adds .

‘Maybe,’ Beth says, having a brain wave. ‘But if I can say, the ass was on point.’

Emma even nods in agreement at that point. She smiles at me. ‘What?’ I ask her.

‘That there is the Suzie I know. Look at that glow,’ she says.

‘It’s the sun,’ I reiterate.

‘We’ve all been in the sun, honey. We’re not glowing like that,’ she says, winking at me.

‘So, how was the dancing?’ I say, trying to take the focus off me and the events of the last few hours.

‘Absolutely bonkers and shit. Some wild bird in tie-dye wanted to look at my chakras and drugged our tea,’ Meg says.

‘Hold up,’ Lucy argues. ‘That was not drugs. It was coca leaves.’

‘It’s cocaine. I Googled it,’ said Emma.

‘And went against the camp rules by getting a cellular device out…’

I lie back and listen to the sound of them bickering.

I like it, it breaks the silence, takes me away from my thoughts.

My most indecent thoughts. I look into the sky, at the sort of blue you don’t get anywhere else.

It’s untouched, it shines differently and I immediately think about his eyes.

The eye contact. Eyes looking right into me while I orgasmed over him, like he wanted to really see it in me.

Lordy. I gaze up into the blue, trying to make sense of what just happened but there’s not a cloud in sight. Just sky for miles and miles above.

Charlie

‘Would you look at the mammaries on that specimen?’

The table all turn their heads towards a girl heading to the toilets. All except me. Andy could say that the building was on fire and I think I would just sit here, sipping on my Coke and staring at this hot sauce bottle. I seem to be in some sort of sex trance.

What the hell happened this morning? Sex is usually something that happens after a couple of dates.

There’s a build-up, space to plan and take stock of what’s happening.

One minute, we were taking in the view and the next, we were having quite extraordinary sex.

Sex that was sweaty and visceral and that I can picture so clearly in my mind now that it’s horribly arousing, which is probably not the reaction I want sitting in an all-you-can-eat ribs and steak joint surrounded by twelve other men.

I blame Carlos. I blame Carlos for all of it.

He gave me the confidence of twenty men, the ability to think I could do anything.

The man had rizz, swagger, charm in buckets and spades.

Maybe he’s not me at all. Maybe it was just an out-of-body experience.

‘I once tapped a bird with double GGs. I tell you, like bloody airbags, could have rested a pint on them.’ Even Andy’s absurd and frankly unbelievable stories can’t touch me now.

I feel like I’m in a state of enlightenment, calm, serenity.

Aurelie is beautiful, sweet – unlike anyone I’ve met before.

Maybe that sounds premature and ridiculous when we’ve slept together just once, but there is something addictive about it.

I remember that I’m seeing her again tomorrow and cannot stop from grinning.

‘Are you going for the ribs too?’ asks a waitress in a tiny denim skirt with a toy gun poking out her holster.

Tonight’s restaurant of choice is a dimly lit cowboy-themed joint on the main Magaluf strip.

It’s meat heavy with cheap alcohol and it also has a bucking bull to the middle of it.

It’s loud and raucous but a least a distraction from having to think too hard about this day.

I look up. ‘Yeah, please. And the baked potato option. Thanks.’ I hand my menu back to her.

‘Oi, oi, Charlie boy. Don’t fancy your chances there then?’ Andy says, checking her out with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer given that she’s still taking orders around the table.

‘Please excuse him,’ I tell her.

‘I’m paying her a compliment,’ Andy says. ‘It’s not that deep.’

I frown and lower my voice. ‘Well, it is. You’re making her feel uncomfortable and that she’s there solely for your gaze. How are the wife and kids?’ I snap.

The table goes quiet except for the waitress who can’t seem to stop smiling. She nods at me, thankfully.

‘Oh, lighten up, you wanker. It’s just jokes. At least I get some. Maybe you should do the same?’ he replies.

I did, this morning, three and a half times to be exact. Around the same time that he apparently tried going down a water slide standing up and split his calf open. Remind me to get some saltwater on that.

‘Actually, Charlie did hook up with someone today,’ Max pipes up from the end of the table.

I stare down at him. Not information I really wanted to broadcast but I can see that look on his face that says he can see I am going to rain down on Andy in a second and ruin the mood.

We haven’t even got our nachos yet. ‘How did it go, Carlos?’ he winks.

‘Very well.’ I mean, I think I might be suffering from severe dehydration and I had to stand in a lukewarm shower for ten minutes just to calm down afterwards but I’ve got that feeling in my legs like they might give way and that to me is a sign of good sex.

‘You’re not marking a report now, Charlie? Details?’ Max shouts from the end of the table.

‘She’s French. Her name is Aurelie.’

‘Oo là là. Oui oui, baguette,’ Andy says. I’m immediately riled he gets to comment on this.

‘I’ll see her tomorrow at some point between the boat party and the quad biking,’ I tell them .

‘Ooooooh…’ the stags all coo in unison, taking the piss.

‘Oh, shut up. It’s just a thing. I don’t know where it will go.’

‘Holiday fling, innit?’ one of Max’s mates, Wrighty, pipes up as he sups on his pint.

I take a sip of my drink too, but I’ll admit, it makes me feel a little sad that today was just that: a bit of freeing incognito sex, a hook up, a one-night type of liaison that I’ll remember fondly in years to come but really doesn’t have much substance beyond this week.

She’s French. The geography is way off. It feels like such a waste of good chemistry.

‘My mate Steve had a fling with a girl when he was in Greece. Brought her over and tried to make a thing of it. Married her and everything,’ Wrighty says. I marvel at how he can tell this story but also down his pint at the same time.

‘So it worked out then?’ I ask him.

‘God no. They had mad sex but she was a bit of a loon. She set fire to his car once so he couldn’t come down the pub.’

‘Oh,’ I reply.

‘Yeah, holiday romances rarely have happy endings. Most of the time, it’s someone wanting a green card, gold diggers, or the passion fizzles.

It don’t translate to reality,’ Wrighty continues.

‘It’s sun, sea and unlimited sex versus grey, bills and who’s going to take out the bins for the rest of your lives.

’ If I ever needed a reality check, I think I may have just got one here from Wrighty who’s at least three pints deep.

He looks up from his drink, a worried expression on his face.

‘You didn’t give her any money, did you? ’

‘I bought her a hooded towel and some ten-euro flip flops,’ I recount.

‘That’s a shit gift. And she still slept with you?’ Wrighty laughs.

The problem is I don’t think she’s like that at all. I hate to think I’m the exception but there seemed to be something there, maybe even beyond the sex .

‘French birds too. They blow hot and cold, you know? I wouldn’t go there myself. Hard work, mate,’ Andy adds.

I nod, disbelievingly given all his obvious worldly experience with women.

‘But…you know…if it is something then I am sure you could make it work,’ Max says, coming to sit at my end of the table to hear more.

Little Max who’s getting married soon so he’s loved up, and in a space to think anything is possible.

I like hearing his comments. Maybe there might be something worth exploring at the end of all this.

I think about the feeling of her lips pressed against mine.

I really hope there might be. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find out.

‘RIGHT, COWBOYS! YEE-HAW!’ a DJ’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. ‘WE NEED OUR STAGS AND OUR HENS AND OUR COWBOYS AND COWGIRLS TO COME AND TAKE ON THE CHALLENGE OF THE BULL. WHO WANTS TO GO FOR A RIDE?’

Christ alive, we’ve not even eaten yet. This restaurant is full of parties like ours and a roar fills the room as everyone seems to be here for the meat and to get tossed off.

A mechanical bull, that is. Andy being Andy starts rattling the tables and then gradually starts a chant of Max’s name that reverbs around the room.

Max, Max, Max. He’s in a T-shirt and shorts so hardly dressed for the occasion but he stands to his chair, firing fake guns.

I have to laugh. Maybe after such a poor start to his stag do yesterday, the man has to have his moment.

‘We have a young man there? Stella! Head to that man over there!’ A woman rocks up with a cowboy hat and a microphone so he can make a fool of himself in front of the whole restaurant. ‘What’s your name?’

‘I’m Max.’

‘And what brings you to Magaluf, Max?’

‘I’m getting married and this is my stag do.’

The whole restaurant explodes into cheers as the fellow stags make unfortunate rutting noises. I can’t help but smile and get caught up in it.

‘Ready to ride, Cowboy Max?’ the voice asks.

‘YEE-HAW!’ he yells, as he heads over to the mechanical bull to the middle of the restaurant.

Stella, his stablehand, has a water gun in her hands and fires something into his mouth.

I am going to hazard a guess that is not water.

Max takes a long shot and then punches the air.

The stags all get out their phones as he straddles the massive creature and it slowly starts to rotate.

I laugh to see him so ridiculously excited but really wish he was wearing a long trouser.

The DJ starts to play ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe’ (there wasn’t really an alternative) and the restaurant start to clap and cheer along. ‘A reminder today that if Max can hold on for at least two minutes then we will pay for his dinner tonight. Can we maybe speed that baby up?’

There’s a look on Max’s face that I’ve not seen since he was a kid when he’d be on a bike going down a hill very, very fast. The bull starts to swivel and buck in a number of different directions but the lad can hold on.

That comes from years of me being his brother, times when I’ve pushed him down hills on makeshift sleds. I look on as the stags clap for him.

‘COME ON, MAX!’

‘YOU ABSOLUTE UNIT!’

But I look down at my watch. Surely it’s been two minutes already? Why is it spinning so quickly? Hold up. Max, I think you should let go now.

‘MAX! LET GO!’ I yell but he sits gripping on for dear life.

‘Shit,’ a voice booms out from the DJ booth. ‘Can someone get Diego? I think it’s broken again.’

Panic fills my face. The bull is broken? My little brother is on it. Could it explode? I have to bring this boy home to his fiancée.

‘MAX! JUST LET GO!’ I yell, but he doesn’t listen.

In fact, he clings to the thing for dear life like a bear cub.

I’ll personally pay for the dinner if we have to.

I clamber past some of the crowd watching, past a table where everyone just stares in horror, clinging on to their drinks. Yes, protect your pints.

‘Sir! ?Senor! You can’t go on there!’ Stella shouts at me. I push her away, landing on the inflatable cushioning. God, there’s smoke coming out of that thing.

‘MAX! YOU HAVE TO…’

But he does. He lets go, screaming as he does and flies towards me, crashing into me so that we both land on the floor of the restaurant. The room spins, voices fade to nothing until the whole room goes black.