‘I remember covering my mouth with my hand when I saw what was happening below. I could see two people. One was lying out on the sun lounger where my mother usually read Graham Greene or Hemingway. Now it was being used for something entirely different.
‘I remember him standing over the woman. I remember him lifting her dress. I could see the whiteness of her thighs,’ the strip of white suspender holding up each stocking. I could also see what was between her legs.
‘I heard her speak. Her voice was muffled, yet I could still make out the words. “Look, my love,” she said. “Look. I’m not wearing any underwear. I’m ready for you, for you and you alone.”
‘She held out her arms to him. He stood over her. Nothing moved except his fingers which tangled in her pubic hair. Her legs seemed to fall apart as if they were melting away from a great heat. I heard her groan as he pushed his finger between her furry lips. I heard her gasp, then a squelching sound. I presumed his finger had entered her.
‘The woman began to beg him to put it into her. I heard her using words that I had understood to be vulgar. I sank down to my knees, my eyes wide with interest. This, I knew, as making love. But I was very confused. Where was the romance between this man and this woman? Where were the words of love that I had been taught to expect when people were as intimate as this?
‘Accompanied by the downward swipe of his zip, the woman began to throw her head from side to side, bent her knees, and opened her legs so wide that her feet were on the floor to either side of her.
‘Moonlight made the fairness of her pubic hair shine like a cluster of Christmas tinsel. I did not see this for long.
‘After sliding his trousers down to his knees, the man lay between her thighs, the rounded strength of his muscular bottom brown and hard against her whiteness, her softness. And then it began.
‘Again and again he rammed into her. His pace never altered. It was fierce, rapid, and made her wail long and low as if she had been pierced by a particularly sharp needle.
‘At last I saw his buttocks clench more tightly, her legs wrap protectively around him. The sound each of them made suddenly ran along the same track, heightened, then decreased steadily until fading to a mutual softness.
‘The light from the house caught his face. That’s when I recognised Ahmed. I could not see the woman’s features. ‘As they returned to the dinner party, I slunk back into my room.’
‘Was the woman his wife?’ It was Josie who asked. Mariana avoided her eyes, shook her head, and went straight back into her story.
‘The next time I saw him it was the fault of my mother.
He had offered to show us around Istanbul. It was an odd sort of outing. My father spent most of his time taking snapshots of my mother. He loved taking pictures of her. He had hundreds. Once or twice he took photographs that included me, but most of the time I was left in the safe hands of Ahmed, the man I had seen bending over a half naked woman.
‘He talked to me about the city, its history, its places of interest.
‘His eyes were very dark and I remember his mouth being very wide. He smiled at me a lot and laughed at my embarrassment when the light cotton shirt I was wearing got soaked as I walked past a fountain. The wind had caught the spray and sent it washing over me. I remember it clinging to my breasts. It was cold and made my nipples stand out. There was a different look in his eyes from then on. It intrigued me and I began to feel a strange excitement that I had not felt since I saw him in the garden. This time, of course, because he was near to me, my excitement was far more intense.
‘He watched me closely. I could see the look in his eyes that posed a question. Why were my nipples so obvious, why were my breasts so enticing? Oh yes, I could see it there. I can still see that look in his eyes even now.’
Mariana bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. She let out a long breath. Crystal and Josie were still and silent. Their eyes were fixed on her. She was safe. She could go on and tell her tale and they would hang onto every word she said as though it were certain truth.
‘Ahmed had a yacht. He invited us onto it regularly and one day, when my parents were stretched out sunning themselves on the deck, he took me swimming.
‘We got into a small motorboat and he drove us to a hidden cove where the water was very blue and clear. The cliffs enclosing it were a burning yellow and were dotted with clumps of green that reminded me of cabbages.
‘The water made a hushing sound against the shingle. I imagined it was telling me to be quiet; not to disturb the tranquillity of the place where only the waves and the seabirds made music.
‘I remember I wore a black bikini. You know how I love black. I loved it then as much as I do now. It’s the best colour possible for blondes.’
She tossed her head as if to emphasise the point, but not with any sign of vanity. Mariana was not a conceited woman.
‘What did he wear?’ Crystal purred her question and her eyes were half closed. She was stroking her body and obviously enjoying it. ‘Was he wearing anything at all, or was he showing you exactly what was on offer?’
Mariana blinked a few times before she answered. ‘No. He wasn’t naked. He wore green trunks with a black slash across the front. The black slash sparkled slightly from the water and the sun. It was hard not to look at it. Harder still not to gaze intently at the bulge behind it.
‘We lay down on the beach. He asked me if I wanted to get my back brown without a strap mark. I said I did, so he undid my bikini top for me.
‘He had brought lotion and warned me against burning my shoulders. His eyes never left me as he said it. I felt them wandering over me in the same way his hands would. ‘I knew what he was going to do even before he did it. I gasped slightly as the coldness of the cream was spread in slow, ever-increasing circles over my skin.
‘His hands were warm and his breath was quickening. It was very soothing - comforting. I felt his fingers leave my shoulders and run down my spine. Even though the sun was hot on my back, I shivered. But I was slightly afraid.
‘I was a child who had been brought up on romance, not sensuality. I was confused by what he was doing, but I was also helpless beneath his touch.
‘He asked me if I liked what he was doing to me. I told him I wasn’t sure. He called me a silly goose and kissed my back. I remember the feel of his lips upon my skin, the roughness around his chin, the silky softness of his moustache. I remember his chest hairs tickling the middle of my back. I remember a tightness in my stomach and a curling ticklishness between my legs.
‘Because his shadow fell over me and his body pressed on mine, I felt trapped by him. I closed my eyes and pretended to feel tired.
‘‘‘Rest awhile, little girl,” he said to me. “Rest awhile and dream, and I will soothe all your fears away.”
‘He lay next to me, one hand resting on my behind as if only carelessly placed there. Yet I knew it was not carelessness. It was a deliberate act. He was enjoying the feel of my buttocks. I was convinced he was hoping I would get used to his hand being upon me, the warmth of his fingers arousing my body just as the warmth of the sun was soothing it to sleep.
‘Warmth and the dreams of what might happen made me fall into a light doze. My mind entered that hazy area between full consciousness and deep sleep where all things happen and anything is possible. I was Alice wandering through my own Wonderland. Not the fairy-tale one with white rabbits and novelty playing cards, but one that burned brightly on the frontier between puberty and adulthood.
‘In my dreams the sun itself had sprouted hands and was trailing its warm fingers down my back. I murmured something wordless. So strong was the warmth of those fingers that they slid enticingly beneath the fabric of my bikini pants.
‘I liked the sun doing that. It made me wriggle my hips and moan in my sleep. It was only as I felt those fingers dividing one buttock f
rom the other that I knew they belonged to my companion, Ahmed the banker, and-not to the sun.
‘Inexperience made me feel confused. What should I do in such a circumstance?
‘I decided to continue with my pretence of being asleep. Better that than show my ignorance. The vision of him in the garden pleasuring the woman was still in my mind. I recalled the whiteness of her limbs, the tension of the suspender that gripped both her flesh and her stocking. I also recalled the deep vee of golden fleece pointing between her thighs. It made my body burn with desire.
‘The subterfuge seemed to suit him well. Each time I jittered - as though I really were sleeping and still dreaming - his hand paused. And yet, I did not want it to pause.
‘I felt him ease my pants down over my bottom. The sun kissed my newly exposed flesh in the same friendly way as it would kiss twin melons growing from the same stalk. As I murmured some unintelligible utterings, my dark-eyed banker kissed one buttock then the other. He slid my pants down my legs. He did it very slowly, very gently. He left them loose around one ankle. My body was naked except for that forlorn piece of blackness around my ankle and the matching shred that divided my bare breasts from the gritty sand.
‘I did not move. I did not want him to know I was compliant with what he wanted of me. So, even as he eased my bra top downwards, I did not protest. I merely whimpered slightly as the sand reformed around my bosoms.
“‘You like that,” he whispered. “I can see you like the roughness of the sand against your pretty pink nipples. I can see you like the feel of the sun on your bottom too.”
‘He was right, but something inside me would not admit it - not even to myself.
‘His hand ran down my back in a soft, gentle sweep. It was the sort of touch you would use to soothe a young horse that is about to take a rider for the first time. It made me hot, but it also made me tremble.
‘Because there was a large hump of sand beneath my hips, my buttocks were raised slightly.
‘I heard him moan as he pushed my legs apart. Ignorant as I was, I did not know whether he was doing this because he liked what he was seeing or because he was experiencing pain. I only knew I liked the touch of his fingers skimming lightly across my flesh and dividing the lips of my sex.
‘I felt his tongue, warm as the sun, wet as the sea, run down the crease of my behind. Where his fingers had been, it too went. Soon I was cooing as he probed the lips of my sex. His fingers became wet with my juices.
“‘That’s it, little girl,” he said. “Enjoy what I am doing to you. Many other men will do this to you in the future. Some you will remember, most you will forget. But not me. You will never forget me because I was the first and took what no one else will ever take.
‘I didn’t know what he meant. As I said, my ideas of sexuality were based upon syrupy novels and films that were all chosen by my father. Right up until that moment, my father had treated me as a child and my mother, being pretty disinterested anyway, had gone along with him.
‘The sun was hot upon my body. At first I was grateful that Ahmed lay over me, his arms rigid, his shadow cool upon me. The coolness did not last. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and gritted my teeth so that I would not cry out. Something very hard and very hot was pushing its way into my body.
‘I surprised myself and him. Had my hips acquired a mind of their own?
‘Without any real effort I bent my knees, raised my buttocks, but still I did not open my eyes or make a sound. ‘Ahmed sighed with happiness. “That’s it, little girl. Push yourself onto me and I will open the gate to your perfumed garden.”
‘At first I felt the hot tip of his member prod at my moist, aching lips. They opened and let him in. Hard and alien as he was, the muscles of my vagina welcomed him, gripped him as if encouraging him onwards.
‘What tension I felt left me. He did not ram himself into me as he had the woman in the garden. Bit by bit, little by little, he eased himself gently and smoothly into my body. And I welcomed him, willed him to go further.
‘But I still had a hymen and he had not reached that yet. When he did, I felt a hot, searing pain. I cried out and took a deep breath which quickly became no more than a whimper.
‘His breath was hot and rapid against my fear. The consideration he had shown me gradually went. Now his thrusts were more urgent.
‘‘‘All of your life,” he said, “I will be the one man you will always - always - remember. I am the man who took your virginity.” And he was right.’
‘Wow!’ Crystal looked genuinely impressed. Confident as she was of her own sexuality, her own power to seduce, she now regarded Mariana with more respect than she had prior to the tale being told.
‘Did you ever see him again?’ asked Josie.
‘Yes. Many times.’ Mariana smiled. There was a look in her eyes that suggested there were other things she was remembering that she did not want to talk about. Before anyone could press her to disclose further details, she got ‘up, dropped her towels, and began to dress. ‘I’ll tell you another time. Bowls this evening.’
‘Lucky you!’
‘Not that kind, Crystal baby. We’re going to watch Jamie’s father play bowls - not play with balls, though I wouldn’t say no if someone offered.’
They laughed, gathered their belongings together, and left.
Josie joined Michael in the bar for a drink and a quick bar meal.
Mariana met up with Jamie and they made their way over to Redcatch Park where Alex, Jamie’s father, was playing for his company team on the silky green of the bowling club.
Chapter 9
‘Glad you could come.’ Alex kissed Mariana’s cheek. Jamie asked who wanted drinks then went off to get them.
Alex squeezed Mariana’s hand. As he did so, he winked and his bright blue eyes twinkled an unspoken message to his fair-haired daughter-in-law. He said just two words, trying to encapsulate everything that his eyes were saying to her.
‘Everything alright?’
‘Everything in the garden is lovely.’ Her mouth stretched in an insincere smile.
What was so lovely about her life? she asked herself.
Her eyes narrowed as her smile disappeared and her jaw line became tense.
To all intents and purposes she was watching Alex as he stepped forward to the green. He hitched his white flannel trousers at the knee before bending and aiming for the jack.
I wonder if Jamie will end up like his father, she thought to herself. Jamie, who was not particularly lovely. Jamie, whom she was fond of and had married. But why had they married, a small voice in her head piped up. Because we suit each other, she answered. We thought we had something to give each other. That was all.
No, Jamie was not lovely. Lovely was a term she could apply to Alex, his father. Alex reminded her of her own father, a father she had adored. A father who had let her down as much as her mother had.
As shadows lengthened across the bowling green and a stray grey cloud temporarily cloaked a glowing sunset, Mariana wrapped one side of her thigh-length sweater tightly over the other. She hugged it to herself, as if that would make her warmer and chase away a chilling memory.
Once she had drunk the St Clements Jamie had bought for her, she made her excuses and wandered off around the park.
‘I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ she said to Alex. Jamie looked at her askance.
‘First time I’ve ever known you to have a headache,’ he said in all seriousness.
Alex laughed. ‘Good grief, son, you certainly are a lucky man if that’s the first headache you’ve ever known your wife to have. Your mother had one of the bloody things every time I reached across and touched her thigh or let my gaze wander to her bosom rather than look her straight in the eye.’
He laughed again and put his drink down before rejoining his cronies down on the gree
n.
Mariana did not meet the look in Jamie’s eyes. ‘You alright?’ he asked.
Mariana took a deep breath of air and nodded quickly, jerkily, like some ancient tin toy whose clockwork is slowly running down. ‘Yes,’ she repeated again as though Jamie needed some serious convincing. ‘It won’t last long - not once I’ve had a swift walk around the park. I’ll come back when the game is over.’
Briefly she patted Jamie’s arm as she swept past him then pecked her father-in-law on one soft cheek.
‘Enjoy your walk,’ he said to her.
‘I will.’ She smiled warmly at him, this man who was as big as his son, but whose hair was white, his flesh pink and as dimpled as the rind of an orange.
Despite the advance of twilight, the evening was a pleasant one.
As she left the bowling green and the white-clad men and women behind, she allowed her cardigan to swing open. The evening air encouraged her to walk taller and straighter, to stick out her chest so that her shape was easily discernible. Like cherries on top of the roundest and most well-risen of sponge cakes, her nipples thrust defiantly against the clinging black top she wore.
The sun was beginning to streak the sky and gild the edges of fat-bellied clouds. Summer was in the air and all the scents that went with it; flowers, grass, heat and dust. It reminded her of Turkey. It also reminded her of Ahmed, that night beneath her bedroom window, and that other time, the time when she had found out what sex felt like as well as what it looked like.
Walking with her eyes half. closed, she could again easily imagine the moon dappling the leaves of that time, the earthy red of the floor tiles that provided such a rich background for the white flesh of the woman exposed to Ahmed’s gaze.
At first the woman’s arm had shielded her face from view. Mariana had leaned further out of the open window, her mouth slightly open, her breath hot with the need to discover. Such a heat, that heat of youthful curiosity, of youthful arousal.
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