“It was a bit funny,” Dad says. Somehow, he has the newspaper and the sudoku back in front of him. “And I'm up for it.”
“Of course you are,” Mum says, and she's got the pink back in her cheeks and a softness in her eyes. “We can certainly try and do the first part. Do you at least trust me to organise something nice for you?”
I wave my hand at our view. “Mum, we're in Greece. The resort is incredible. The sun is shining all day every day. You could literally stick a candle in a plate ofdolmades and I'll be happy.”
“That's all I want, Aidey.” She leans over to hold my hand. “Jesus, would you go and have a shower though now. You stink!”
I give them the grunt of discontent they expect as I circle the table, lifting my arms and bringing my chest close so they can get a full nose of my scent.
“Oh feck off, will you.” My father slaps my stomach as my mother pinches her nose and clamps her mouth shut, both chuckling to themselves.
I walk to the bathroom knowing I've made them laugh and it makes me feel better, good almost. With that in my mind, I feel duty-bound to the promise I made to my mum a few minutes ago, so I find my pills, pop one in my mouth and swallow it down with a mouthful of water from the tap. Then I strip and shower, because Jesus Christ, I really do fucking stink.
The Second Sunset
“A sunset is the sun’s fiery kiss to the night.”
- Crystal Woods
Chapter Twelve
Jenna
Sunset is less than an hour away and it feels like its magic is already close. My body and my hands are moving without me controlling them. I’m not thinking, just doing. It’s nice to be out of my head and into my... heart? No, that’s not it. That’s not what’s guiding me to step into the shower, wash the sun cream off my skin and shave more of my body than I have in years. It’s not my heart that prompts me to moisturise every inch of my skin, from head to toe, and then pull on the best underwear I brought with me. It’s not my heart that chooses a floaty denim summer dress and sprays an intoxicating amount of perfume on my neck, between my breasts and on my wrists, which I then rub together. It’s not my heart that has me smiling at my reflection in the mirror as I apply my make-up and brush my hair.
It’s not my heart, it’s my pussy.
I’m horny and my pussy is in charge, which feels glorious. We have always made a great team.
Because, yes, I'm going. I'm going to meet Marty at sunset.
Bumping into Marty this morning at the gym has done little to douse the flames of desire I feel for him. And perhaps more pleasingly, the way he was with me – playful, eager, as flirtatious as last night – makes me think that he will show up tonight.
So I’m horny, and very possibly onto a sure thing. A sure holiday fling. God, it’s been years since I had a holiday fling and suddenly, I want it so very badly. So badly that I’m rushing to fill my bag with the things I need until a familiar lurch in my stomach stops me in my tracks.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say to myself as I run to the bathroom.
Because I’m not just horny and possibly onto a sure thing. I’m also very nervous. And when I have any kind of jitters, I have nervous poos. It’s not my finest attribute, but nobody’s perfect. At least it’s happening now, I think as I go do what I need to do, all the while chuckling at myself. Once I’m sure my stomach is going to behave, I grab my bag and leave.
When I get to the bar, I allow myself to feel a slight pang of disappointment that Marty is not already there, waiting for me in that same position at the bar when he ordered me a drink and gave me an indecent thumbs-up. But then I lift my eyes to the horizon and see there is still time before the sunset.
With my confidence level somewhat intact, I rush to get one of the few available tables left and then try to get a staff member’s attention. When I do, I don’t order a drink for Marty, just in case. It is one thing to be sitting in a bar and possibly looking like you’re waiting for someone when they don’t show up. It’s quite another to be in a bar, waiting for someone with two drinks on your table and one is untouched, confirming your sad reality.
But still, I order a virgin raspberry mojito for myself because I don’t like the idea of drinking alcohol if Marty isn’t going to. Also, if tonight is going to go where I hope it goes, I want to be sober; I want to feel it all.
It would be a lie to say that I haven’t spent most of the day imagining the things Marty and I could do together. It would also be an untruth if I said the urge to touch myself hadn’t dominated most of my thoughts since I saw him in the gym, the defined muscles of his torso on show and his tight buttocks frighteningly biteable in his cycling shorts. But I resisted temptation and am paying the price now as I feel the heat throb between my legs. Thirsty from all these thoughts, I bring my drink up to my mouth and suck on the straw, hard.
“Hi, Jenna.” A man's voice says next to me. It's not an Irish accent.
“Hi, Lionel.” My brother's colleague is standing awkwardly in front of me.
“Your brother wants me to buy you a drink,” he says. “But of course, I'm not going to buy it. I'll get it on the staff tab. And I probably won't have one myself as I'm working until midnight and alcohol always makes me so sleepy, but he wants me to keep you company while you... while you...”
“Wait for the man who's probably stood me up?”
“He didn’t... I...” Lionel’s brow furrows in far too many places.
“Oh, Lionel, I’m sorry. Sit down.” I tap the chair next to me.
