The Summer of Aphrodite

by Viva Jones

  ‘I never had a son. I’ve always regretted that,’ he admitted.

  ‘No-one to continue your dynasty?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Later, when Douglas returned to his own house, he felt brighter and more purposeful than he had for ages. There was something in the heat today, he could feel it. And wasn’t it a new moon soon? Perhaps he was still thinking of Aphrodite, and the sexual power she held over all who saw her, but Douglas was sure he could feel the powers of the universe surging through his veins. He took a deep breath. Life felt good all of a sudden. Nathalie was like a breath of fresh air, livening the place up.

  And if he believed in his own writing, very soon she’d be his.

  ***

  At the Tiggles Rescue Centre, Ginnie was having a quick tea break before attending to the litter trays. She couldn’t help thinking how she ought to have gone over to help Nathalie with her unpacking, how that would have been the neighbourly thing to do; advising her on the positioning of furniture and what have you, and on how the light might affect each room at different times. But the cats had to come first. She couldn’t let them down.

  Sipping her tea, Ginnie pored over the Lonely Hearts column once again, trying to find someone who might be of interest. They all seemed to want younger women: Man, 50s, seeks healthy, happy young woman, 20 to 30s, for companionship and fun. GSOH essential. Or, Are you looking for that special someone? Candle-lit dinners, romantic escapades, bouquets of flowers? Please send photos and tell me why you deserve my affection. Slim blondes only need apply.

  Really! Who did these men think they were? It was all about sex, that was what they wanted, never mind a proper relationship. Ginnie was still smarting over Vassos, the man to whose ad she’d once replied, who’d clearly grown tired of her when she’d said she’d rather get to know him better than leap into bed on their first date. He’d failed to reply to all her calls afterwards, and when she finally had reached him, had coldly informed her that as a result of that ad he was now sleeping, no strings attached, with no less than four different women, all of whom were delighted with the arrangement.

  What were these women on?

  She tossed the paper aside and finished her tea. She couldn’t sit around moping like this all day, there were pussycats to attend to. She wasn’t going to compromise. One day someone would come along, she was sure of it. Someone sensitive, intelligent and loving, perhaps even a cat lover, looking to give one a good home? She’d help him select one - Dennis, perhaps, the tabby she had a special fondness for - and he’d see her for the caring and giving person she was. Then love would blossom, slowly and deeply; the way it should.

  What was Douglas always on about, the power to create everything you want out of life? Ginnie decided to stick with that fantasy all day, to build her dream man in her mind and see if the powers of the universe, or whatever it was, would create him in reality. And it was such a lovely fantasy, that without realising it, Ginnie carried the scoop and plastic bag out of the rest room with a dreamy smile on her face.

  Then, still smiling, she entered the first enclosure, where six cats lived in reasonably good harmony together, and began to reap their harvest.

  Chapter Seven

  Tanya had forgotten how much she loved night-clubs, but tonight Dolores had persuaded her to go to Rapture, a beach-front party where revellers danced in the sand and the shallow waves. There was something about the music, that repetitive beat, which felt hypnotic. Tanya hadn’t danced like this for ages. No matter that she had work the next day, or that she’d possibly drunk too much to drive home, this was fun, this was what enjoying life was all about. She couldn’t be a stick in the mud all the time. Every now and then it was OK to go a little wild.

  ‘We make a great couple, you and me,’ Dolores said at the bar a few minutes later. ‘You’re all blonde and leggy, while I’ve got the tits and dark hair. We could put on quite a show.’

  ‘What, you mean work out routines together and that?’

  ‘Yeah, in a manner of speaking. I get these gigs sometimes. Performance art, I call it. You know, dancing and stuff. Some clients asked if I had any friends, if we could do something together.’

  ‘Dancing? For men?’

  ‘Pays well. You give ‘em a flash maybe. If they pay extra, you know what I’m saying.’

  Tanya had often wondered why her friend, a barmaid, never seemed to have the same money worries as she did. ‘You flash your tits?’

  ‘And the rest, if the price is right. This place is swarming with Russians. You know how rich they are? They just want a bit of fun, and they’re prepared to pay for it.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s for me, Doe.’ Tanya took a sip of her Strawberry Daiquiri.

  ‘Why not? Think about it. We’re a perfect contrast - you’re like day to my night, the sun to my moon. Men would love that.’

  ‘But they want sex in the end, right?’

  Dolores shrugged. ‘Some of them want to cop a feel. You only let them do as much as your comfortable with. But I made two grand last weekend.’

  ‘Two grand?’ Tanya almost choked on her drink. Suddenly the idea didn’t sound so outlandish after all. She’d be able to clear off her credit card with that. ‘For just dancing and maybe a bit of touching?’

  ‘For two grand quite a bit of touching, if you get my drift. But you make them wear condoms, and they’re passing through, you know. Just rich guys having some fun.’

  ‘I thought you were religious?’ Tanya nodded at the crucifix Dolores wore round her neck.

  Dolores just laughed. ‘If the folks in County Clare could see me now. You know, I sometimes think being brought up a Catholic is the best thing that could happen to a girl. Your ma and the nuns are full of shame that you were even brought into existence, and tell you to say a prayer to the virgin Mary even when you so much as wash yourself down there. So you’re full of angst about sex, which, quite honestly, just makes it so much better. I reckon if my parents had been more laid back, you know, just told me to go out there and enjoy myself, it wouldn’t be half so fucking good.’

  ‘You enjoy sex more because you think it’s dirty and shameful?’

  ‘Hell, yes! The shame’s such a fucking turn-on.’

  Tanya sipped her Daiquiri, unsure how to take that. She told her friend about the invitation she’d turned down to Mr Makhtabi’s yacht.

  ‘You must be off your head,’ Dolores cried. ‘A man invites you onto his fuck-off yacht for champagne, and you go home to some crap party with your neighbours? Do you want money, and nice things, and financial security, or do you want to be stuck in a crap job that doesn’t pay fretting over being able to afford cocktails? I tell you what, Tan, this round’s on me, OK?’

  As Tanya let her friend order the drinks, she realised that she’d almost certainly lost the deal. All day she’d watched the fax machine, jumping at every ring of the phone, but not a word had come from her potentially biggest client. Dolores would have had it signed and sealed by now. She’d have had that champagne and Mr Makhtabi would have told her all about his family and his daughter Leila and they’d be on friendly terms by now and he’d happily have signed the contract and she’d be busy deciding what to spend her commission on.

  Tanya was letting herself down, she realised. She was young, she was attractive, and it was surely her right to have fun and make some decent money? The music was hypnotising her again, she felt her body pulsate to its rhythm. When she and Dolores took to the dance floor again, they found themselves quickly surrounded by admirers. But rather than dancing with the other boys, Dolores danced only with Tanya, suggestively and sexily, and Tanya, who was a little drunk by now, found herself dancing back, pressing her body against her friend’s as if they were lovers. She felt liberated, and a little crazy. You had a choice in life, she realised. You could conform, and get lost in the cr
owd, or you could live dangerously, and reap in the riches. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the star-filled sky overhead, but Tanya decided in that instant which way she wanted to go.

  ***

  ‘Come on you, where are you?’ Ginnie called softly round the back of her house. She had the cat box upright and all ready, all she had to do was grab the cat by the scruff of its neck and lower it in. The vet at Tiggles had taught her how, and it seemed to work. ‘Come on, girl, it’s for your own good.’ She thought she saw something in the trees, and tried to approach as stealthily as she could, only to lose her footing on a clump of grass and topple over. She landed with a thump on her bottom, and sat there, wondering how that could have happened. She seemed to be losing her balance more often these days, it had to be the heat.

  There was no sign of the cat. Ginnie decided she had to be patient. If she just sat still, perhaps, it would come back to nibble the crunchy treats she’d scattered along the pathway. She was beginning to feel drowsy, though; perhaps she shouldn’t have finished that bottle of wine with her supper, but she’d been watching a good film and she liked a glass or two with a good DVD, it was one of those rare treats she enjoyed.

  But she had to catch this cat. She didn’t trust the villagers not to dispense with the kittens in some inhumane way. They were little lives too, and they deserved a chance. How Ginnie wished she could save them all. Sometimes she hated driving around the island, she’d see so many strays. And they were the lucky ones, what about all the dead cats she came across, the ones which had been run over or poisoned?

  There was still no sign of the cat. Ginnie looked up into the darkened sky. Where was the moon, she couldn’t even find that tonight. Perhaps it was time to go inside, try again tomorrow? For a second she contemplated her own bed, and falling into a deep sleep, but then she thought of the unfortunate and probably pregnant cat and decided to give it another half an hour.

  She could hear the ripple of water in the pool, and climbed up from where she sat to peer through an oleander bush which separated them. There was Douglas, doing his lengths. How confident he was, how calm and unhurried. It must be nice to be able to swim like that, completely alone in the dark of the night, totally at ease with one’s body. Minutes passed. There was still no sign of that cat. One by one, she saw bedroom lights being switched off in the houses around: couples, happy or otherwise, snuggling up to one another inside. How long had it been since anyone last touched Ginnie, caressing her skin and kissing her and making her feel like a woman? She had so much to offer, Ginnie felt, tears of indignation pricking the backs of her eyes. She was loving and warm, she was informed and interesting, she was funny and kept her house clean. So why wasn’t there a man in her life? It wasn’t fair.

  Suddenly Douglas started heaving himself out of the pool, right in front of her eyes. She could see how firm his torso was, and the trail of greyish-brown hairs coursing down his chest, through his stomach and then further down below. He was naked, she realised, getting a full view of his manhood; not that it looked that impressive after all that cold water, but it gave her a thrill nevertheless, and she stifled a giggle. She watched as he began towel-drying himself in that easy, slow way of his, and felt her breath quicken at the sight of his firm buttocks. He really wasn’t a bad-looking man, Ginnie thought, for a man of sixty. Extremely fit. And he was confident and intelligent, and didn’t seem to have any problems with money.

  Why she’d never considered Douglas before was beyond her, but it felt important, a matter of great urgency, even, that she let her feelings towards him be known. Now.

  Without stopping to think, Ginnie nipped back for the cat box before coming into view from behind the oleander bush.

  ‘Douglas!’ She tried to sound surprised. ‘I had no idea you were there. I was just trying to catch a cat.’

  He continued to towel himself dry. ‘Ginnie. I didn’t expect to see you leaping out from the bushes like that.’

  She walked towards him with a smile. The years without physical contact pained her, and she longed for a man’s touch, for someone to bring her to life again. She was a loving, giving woman and Douglas hadn’t had a girlfriend, as far as Ginnie knew, for years. Why wouldn’t he be interested? ‘There are probably a lot of things I could do that you wouldn’t expect,’ she told him.

  He stopped drying himself and looked at her quizzically.

  ‘Douglas,’ she put on her sexiest voice, her whole body starting to tremble. ‘What are you really doing here? You wouldn’t be swimming naked, at night, if you didn’t want to be caught, now, would you? Listen to your heart, Douglas, what is it you’re really after? I think we both want the same thing, don’t we?’

  Douglas looked faintly alarmed. ‘Ginnie, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

  But Ginnie wasn’t having it. She walked up close to his body, tilting her head towards his for a kiss. ‘We’re both adults,’ she continued. ‘And we both know our own minds. So why don’t we? Right here, right now? No strings attached?’ She allowed her hand to slide down his torso, which was pleasingly taut, and as she dropped to her knees, she began to tease his flaccid cock to life, coaxing it awake with her fingers, while rubbing his balls with the palm of her hand. As if grew, she took it in her mouth, licking and teasing, pushing back his foreskin, to reveal, like a present at Christmas, his large purple head. She began licking and massaging now, contracting her mouth to create a warm, moist tunnel, letting his tip stroke the roof of her mouth, tightening her fingers around the base of his shaft.

  Her jaw was just beginning to ache when Douglas came, spraying spunk in her mouth like fizzy drink from a shaken can. Ginnie swallowed, accepting his life-force, knowing that he’d be hers now. Like Aphrodite, she’d have him in her spell. With a great sense of pride, Ginnie pulled away from his cock and looked up to meet Douglas’s eyes.

  ‘Well, thank you Ginnie, for such a generous gesture,’ he told her, wrapping himself up in his towel. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting home.’

  ***

  Nathalie suddenly found herself awake, though not with a start, as there’d been no noise or sudden fright, but just drowsily awake and aware that it was still dark and that she’d probably only been asleep for a couple of hours. Then came this terrifyingly familiar sensation and she thought, ‘Oh God, not again,’ before her chest started to contract under some increasingly heavy pressure. Next her back began tingling, and it felt like someone, or something, was pulling out her spine, vertebra by vertebra. She was totally paralysed, terrified and conscious. She knew this feeling, but still had no idea what it was. An evil presence, that was the only way she could describe it; some dark force pressing itself onto her, inside her, trying to replace her very soul.

  She knew from previous experience that this was just a dream, and that it would pass. This thing that was trying to squeeze the life out of her, trying to possess her, would, if she fought hard enough, eventually leave. Sometimes it felt like a giant pair of hands, wringing her body in two, other times it was accompanied by the bed spinning. In the past, Nathalie had learnt that if she could just scream, Tom would wake her, and then she would lie, exhausted and afraid, in his arms. But now there was no Tom, and no one else to rouse her. She knew that if she could only start to move the tips of her fingers, the force would retreat. As a child she’d believed it was the devil himself, and would recite the Creed whenever it happened - she’d even hung a crucifix above her bed at one point - but these she refused to believe in either God or the devil. Gradually, she could feel the sensation return in her fingertips, and as she started to move them, so the weight started to lift and her spine shifted back into place.

  She woke with her heart racing and some fleeting traces of fear in her body. She went to turn on the bedside light, could feel in switch in her fingers, could even hear it click, but the room remained dark, and the presence came back. This, too, had happene
d numerous times before. It was a dream within a dream and Nathalie was still asleep, trapped inside her subconscious, knowing full well that if only she could scream out, then perhaps she’d wake herself up. But her throat was as paralysed as the rest of her body, and all she could do was remind herself that this terrible, terrifying sensation would pass, and try to feel some movement in her fingertips.

  Eventually it came, the presence disappeared, and this time she knew she was fully awake. She sat up, her heart still racing, and could see a glimmer of light through the window. It was over. She still had no idea what it was, but it had finally left her.

  Nathalie got up, pulled a tissue out of its container on her bedside and left the room, purposefully switching on all the lights as she walked past. Inside the spare bedroom she tore open a packing box, searching through its contents until she found what she was looking for: a bottle each of Roman camomile, clary sage and bergamot. Carefully she mixed ten drops of the camomile and five each of the sage and bergamot into another bottle, before placing a couple of drops onto the tissue. This, she breathed in heavily. Then she tidied away the bottles - she hadn’t got round to unpacking them properly, but would do so soon - and returned to her bed. She placed the tissue inside her pillow case, switched off the light and lay there, inhaling the scent. She was determined not to let this thing beat her. She would get to sleep again, and this time her sleep would be peaceful and nourishing.

  Was this dream a warning of some kind, she wondered, her mind slipping gently into sleep. And if so, a warning of what? If she could bother to be analytical about it, her theory was too melodramatic by half.

  It was as if she was under attack.

  ***

  As Richard slumbered beside her, Anna lay awake, worrying about the damned party. She now had six guests on confirmed flights from England, and not much else. She spent much of her time adding to a ‘to do’ list, without ever actually accomplishing anything on it. And now she was wide awake, which was hardly going to help her achieve anything in the daylight.