‘Like a bit of fantasy, meself,’ Tim says. ‘Perfect fodder for some role play.’
No, no, stop this earth and get me off right now.
‘Tim. I’ve got another of Jilly’s books in the room. Go fetch it.’
‘But—’
‘Please.’
I try not to look, but it’s like rubbernecking at the scene of a crash. Tim pitifully nods at Jemima, before stalking off in the direction of his room.
I lean back on my bed, the plastic creaking as I try and get comfortable. The ripple of the water as naked swimmers go by is oddly soothing, and the more I focus on my own lounger the easier I find this to be. There’s nothing scary about this. This is normal people lounging as nature intended.
I shuck off my T-shirt and consider removing my shorts. Everyone else is nude, no qualms. It’s odder that I’m here still dressed, really. Nobody is going to judge me, and if I get anxious about it, I’ve got a spare towel to cover myself if needs be.
Deep breaths.
Count to three.
With a fuck-it attitude, I pull off my shorts, just as the back of my sunlounger falls out from underneath me.
The floor becomes the sky as the sunlounger folds, plastic back support now over my head, my naked arse falling to the tiled floor, and oh my God, I can feel my dick flopping about the place. The towel has bunched up, beneath me, so I can’t even snatch something to give myself any sense of modesty. I can’t even move. It’s like I’ve fallen into a badger’s den.
I’m being eaten by my sunlounger!
There are footsteps, people talking, then the top half of the sunlounger is removed from me and the heat of the sun hits my skin again. Looking up, the world has come to a naked standstill, all eyes on me and my nude body.
‘You didn’t have it in the rivets properly,’ the receptionist Lydia, stark naked, says.
Chapter Thirty
WILL
Day Five
‘Well, that was certainly something,’ Jemima says, after Lydia fixes my sunbed and I lower myself back down on it tentatively.
So much for trying not to draw attention to myself. Why did that have to happen when I finally decided to get naked? Lydia sits at the end of my bed, stretched out, her body turned to the scorching sun.
‘Not working today?’ I ask her, because I want to divert the attention to anyone else other than me.
‘No, and a good thing,’ she says, looking at me. ‘Otherwise, you might still be there, and I would have to file some reports.’
‘All right, can we move on now? Please?’
I look for something to do, anything, and I snatch up a bottle of suntan lotion. I’m not even sure it’s mine but nobody stops me so I squirt it onto my legs, massaging it into my skin. But after a few rubs, the white streaks stretching across my blotched red skin, I grimace. My hand slips, and I look at it. ‘I hate lotion.’
‘You put too much on,’ Lydia says. ‘Do you want me to help you with that, too?’
‘God, no.’
There is no way I’m having a naked receptionist massage lotion onto my skin.
‘Burn, then.’ Her sunglasses glint in the light as she slips them down her nose to look at me. ‘Well, burn more than you already have.’ A waiter approaches, and when she sees him, she speaks with him in Greek. She turns back to us, glasses covering her eyes once more. ‘I’ve ordered us another round of cocktails.’
‘You don’t know my order,’ I say.
‘Be grateful I ordered you one,’ Lydia replies.
