Page 29 of Hot to Go

‘How to do what?’

And that spark, that energy just sits there again. It’s a rare thing that chemistry, that heat. It can just ignite in a flash, and I think of the sum of all last night’s moments – holding her hand, brushing my fingers against hers and the warmth of her breath on my cheek – and without hesitation, I put a hand to her waist and pull her into me. Is this too much? I hardly know her but there is a deep intense need to touch her. She looks at me. I think she feels that hesitancy too but she leans in and kisses me gently. A kiss that intensifies, draws me in. She puts a hand to the back of my head, before pushing me down on to the sofa and straddling me. I reach around to take off her vest top, pulling down the material of her bikini to run my tongue along her nipple. The reaction it makes is almost addictive. I want her to make that sound over and over again. She unbuttons my shirt, keeping eye contact the whole time but kissing my chest, working her way down, pulling down my shorts, until she has me in her mouth. I lose my breath. I run my fingers through her hair, my spine straightening, moaning loudly.You lied. You do know how to do this. You really do.

SIX

Suzie

I have a sex headache. It’s the heat. I’ve lost too many electrolytes or maybe need a transfusion. I need a Lucozade. I’m not sure how sex works like that sometimes. One minute, you’re just standing there taking in a view and having to wing it that your family are in the champagne business and the next a man you only met last night is sucking on your nipples and fingering you on a sofa until you come so loudly and freely that you’re worried you scared the mountain goats.

I blame the cousins. Lucy most of all. Last night, she came back here and even though we were all tired and drunk and needed to rinse the saltwater out of our hair, she sat us down outside and prepared us. Suzie needs this. The man is hot and there is an opportunity here for us to make this Spanish wanger happen for her (her words, not mine). So, she gave all the sisters back stories, she made us practise accents and she made me give them a brief conversational lesson in French. We role-played into the early hours, which is not the sort of role-play I think this villa usually sees.

And I guess it worked because I’ve not had an orgasm like that in years. One where your mind is clear and intent and in that moment. There was intensity there, a dance where we seemed to know all the moves and we were focused on getting as much pleasure out of the experience as possible. There was no one watching, no expectation, no boredom, no minds wandering out of the room. We were both there. I attempted positions I’ve only managed when drunk. I did things I usually only do when I’ve known someone for years.

I think I might be experiencing some sort of shock now; I can’t rub the smile off my face. I stand there and do an uncoordinated excited dance, my fists clenched. He’s passed out on one of the sun loungers, swim shorts on, face down and in a deep state of slumber. Did we just have sex in the pool? We did. Suzie Callaghan, you had a sex in a pool. You had your legs wrapped around his neck, you were lying against the stone poolside and he did this thing where he licked the inside of your thighs until he got to your clit, your toes grazing the coolness of the water, and you had nothing to hold on to so you grabbed on to him.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to tell. I want to tell the cousins I didn’t need to do that euphoric dance workshop. I’m doing it here. The sun bounces off his back now, beads of sweat and pool water in the shallows of his shoulder blades. I want to lick it all off. Holy balls. Who are you, girl? You are not this person. You’re usually a bit more measured when it comes to sex. You’re careful. I put two hands over my mouth again to hold in the fact I want to scream with joy. Hydration. Hydration. Pull yourself together. We haven’t even been in a bedroom yet. It’s the house. It must be the effect of the house. They probably spray pheromones through this place to make people super randy.

I go and rest my forehead against the fridge door, unsure about what to do. This is what I needed. Holiday sex. I neededto indulge for a change, have some mysterious, no-strings sex with a stranger and just feel alive again, recharged. Hence the whole French charade and being someone else. Maybe that’s half the attraction. That person out there doing things isn’t me. It’s Aurelie who’s French and liberated and has no sexual reservations. Aurelie has had sex with beat poets and artists, she’s that sort. In Paris. In lofts. She smokes French cigarettes, lives off endive and good coffee, and wears a beret without looking like a twat. I really should just light up a cigarette now and sit here with oversized sunglasses and a pout looking nonplussed about life.C’est la vie, non?

I get two tins out of the fridge and head outside, perching on the edge of the sun lounger where Carlos sleeps. I put the tin to his back and roll it slowly.

‘That’s cold,’ he mumbles. ‘But keep doing it.’ I smile as he rolls over, his hand immediately going to my waist. ‘Hey.’ There is a peace to just sitting here with him.

‘You look…’

‘Drained?’

I laugh. ‘Tired.’

‘Make sure I don’t bake in this sun, s’il te plaît.’

Just his singular hand on me makes every cell in me sing. But no, get it together, Suze. Hydration before you both pass out with the exertion. He sits up so his face is inches away from mine. I scan his face, feel the warmth of his skin next to mine.

‘How’s it going, mermaid?’

‘I’m good.’

‘Just good?’

‘I’m hot.’

He smirks. I don’t quite know what this is. I’ve been in relationships before that started with good hot sex, but it never lasts. Flames can’t burn that strongly forever. They just fizzle out. Because people have to get up, get dressed and stop to eat, to drink, to pay the bills, to live their lives. Suddenly, an intensesadness fills me at the thought that this will have an end point. I wouldn’t be able to move to Spain, he wouldn’t move to England. I’d have to tell him I’m not French, that I lied. Momentary joy brought down to earth with a big complete jolt. Why am I thinking this far ahead?

‘All OK?’ he asks me, his bright eyes concerned.

‘I think I’m just in shock. That was…’

‘Please be a good adjective.’

‘Magnífico.’

He runs a hand through my hair and kisses my forehead, a moment of complete tenderness after the frenzy of the sex we just had, and I pull him into an embrace. But what if I want to keep him? To get to know him better? How does that work?

My thoughts are interrupted by the main gate of the villa opening and the cousins returning in their rental car. Carlos looks me in the eye and smiles. The bubble has burst, but maybe it’s a good thing to have a break from all that intensity.

Lucy is the first to appear, peeking her head down to the pool and waving with both hands. ‘¡HOLA, AMIGOS!’ she hollers, running down to greet us. I know her game. She looks around for signs of sex but we are both fully clothed again, just sitting by the pool having an iced tea. He made me come three times though, Luce, I want to shout into the sultry Spanish air. ‘Well, this is lovely. Did you both have alovelyafternoon?’

I look over at a clock in the kitchen. It’s coming up to four o’clock. I bite my lip to think that at least three of those hours were spent having some of the best sex I think I’ve ever had. She sees the blush in my cheeks and smiles, clapping her hands. ‘We brought home some amazing seafood. We’re probably going to barbeque it, you’re welcome to join us, Carlos?’ she suggests.

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