cuentos Guardamar

Antonio never noticed her at first, even though she went to XTC’s bar every day. He tried to get her to the beach one night and when she refused he moved on to someone else. She was fascinated by his recurring two-week adventure with each set of holidaymakers. It was the same talk and always at least one girl to fuck each night. Slowly she realised that he wasn’t using the pantomime chat-ups with her and seemed genuinely interested.
 
“On the Sunday I take you to the sea. I know you like to see!” He said to her one day, delighted with his play on words.

 
He took her down the coast to Guardamar, where he scuba-dived. They took his friend’s boat out and she watched him drop over the side and disappear into the dark sea. She was left alone in the happy sway of the water and she leaned back and let the crayon-blue sky come to her.

As the boat bobbed she tried to imagine Greenock right there and then and couldn’t. The dour streets seemed like troubled sleep that she’d woken from.  There had been one phone call since she’d decided to stay and her dad hadn’t come to get her the way he’d threatened to. Her mother had cried and talked about how the house just wasn’t the same without her. From the phone she could see the Mediterranean and this helped wash away any creeping guilt that she felt.
 
There was  a wet slap on the boat and she opened her eyes to see a mad-eyed blob scuttling along the deck. She screamed and saw Antonio perched on the prow laughing.
 “The octopus”, he said and quickly jumped at it, spearing it clean between the eyes. He opened the water cooler packed with ice and champagne and two glasses. He took them out and flung the octopus into the ice. She saw the ice darken with ink as he closed the lid and put his oxygen tank on top of it. He came over to her.
“The octopus. Very good to eat. I cook for you. But first needs the ice or too chewing .... chewy?” He looked at her questioningly and she nodded yes, although she was still shaken by the sea life suddenly entering the boat.

 He put his salty arms around her. She felt the arms massage at her back. He pushed her away and kissed her. Then popped the champagne and poured.
“Cheers mate! To my quiet little pajarita.”
 Allison drank; the icy bubbles an up-draught and sparkle straight to her head. He refilled and they both drank more. She felt herself grow calm and ready for what she knew would come next...
She’d only had sex once before behind an industrial unit when she was fourteen. Tears of pain had come to her eyes as Brian McCulloch grunted and stabbed away behind her. It didn't take long and she was relieved to feel him pull out of her. She felt raw and that night wrote in her diary that she didn’t know how she’d ever pee again. She hated it when she heard that he’d been telling everyone in school that he’d ‘melted the ice pole’.
 
When Antonio started to stroke and kiss at her she was as light as the champagne bubbles. She laid back to get comfortable and let him take over. He pulled off her bikini top and slurped at what breasts she had. He seemed hungry and impatient.  She was warm and wanting and wet when he entered her and he surprised her with how insensitive a lover he was: thrusting away tight-lipped with his face fixed on the bobbing horizon. She’d always thought that with all his women he’d be something different, busier with her body: a thought that had held her back from him all summer. She smiled at how easy the sex was, and looked out as the horizon appeared then vanished as one wave, then another soothed her until she felt a real sense of herself for the first time. This could be her life.