The Summer of Aphrodite

by Viva Jones

  ‘What are they - ?’ she started, unable to finish the sentence. The Mercedes came to a stop and waited. ‘Do we go forward or back?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

  ‘It’s your bloody sea-front friends again, isn’t it?’

  Douglas just sighed.

  At that point the bus between Latsi and Polis lumbered into view behind them, hooting at both cars to get out of its way. Douglas stayed put, forcing the bus to overtake him on the right and then to bear down onto the Mercedes, which inched forward slowly. They watched as it then returned to the left hand side and continued along the road, the bus following.

  ‘Douglas, what kind of trouble are you in?’ Nathalie asked.

  ‘Well, there’s a huge dent in my driver’s door, for starters,’ he said flippantly, starting off again.

  ‘You know what I mean. They were trying to kill us.’

  He shook his head. ‘Frighten us, that was all.’

  ‘Well, they certainly achieved that. So what have you done to deserve this attention?’

  ‘You said you didn’t want to know.’

  She shook her head angrily. ‘That was before I nearly got killed. That blonde girl. The one with the tattoo. What’s her problem?’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Douglas? I’m waiting.’

  ‘I had a business agreement with her,’ he said eventually. ‘And now she, and her, associates, seem to think I’ve reneged on it.’

  ‘She’s a whore and the others are pimps, classy.’ When Douglas said nothing, she added, ‘Your daughters would be so proud.’

  ‘I’m alone here. I don’t want a relationship, and it was easy.’ His tone was matter-of-fact. ‘You’re not that different from me, you know. We’re both self-contained. But sometimes one needs physical contact.’

  In saying those words, Douglas knew that he’d lost any chances of that happening tonight. ‘So when are you going to succumb to such earthy pleasures then, my goddess?’ He was determined to play down what had just happened.

  She looked at him, imagining his reaction if he only knew. ‘Just get me home in one piece, Douglas, all right?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fatima was wilting under the midday heat, wrote Anna. She retreated to the shade of her kitchen to prepare the family’s food. Outside the window, children were playing. The energy they had! She could remember being that energetic once, that impervious to the heat. A time when life had seemed to innocent, so full of simple pleasures and desires. It had been there, under the olive tree, where Maria had first kissed her. She could remember it as if it were only yesterday.

  ‘Oh God, this is crap!’ Anna shouted in desperation. What was she doing? She was no more a writer than Richard was a professional body builder. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t lose herself in her work. All she could think about was Nathalie. She looked outside to where the latest rental family was relaxing by the pool. The mother was adjusting the sun hat on her son’s head, and smearing sun cream on his shoulders. Maybe I should just have a baby, Anna thought. Maybe that would solve everything? Perhaps a child would bring her and Richard the happiness and fulfilment they lacked in life?

  Nathalie was pulling away, she could feel it. She was probably having sex with Douglas right this minute, for all Anna knew. She had waited well into the evening for any sign of them returning from their romantic sunset drive, and had lain awake for much of the night imagining life without Nathalie. Or rather, a life with Nathalie merely as a neighbour, without all the sex, love and excitement. The thought made her whole body contract, like the shrivelling of an autumn leaf. Nathalie had been her spring and summer, but now it felt like their seasons were on the cusp of change.

  Anna stared out of the window again, watching the father gently rock his baby in his arms. Would Richard make a good father, she wondered idly. Might it even be the making of him? A son to play football with, to teach cricket and chess, perhaps that was just what he needed to get over this terrible depression he’d been under?

  Maybe it was time they tried, Anna decided. She wasn’t getting any younger. She didn’t want to wake up one day and realise that her boobs had gone south and her ovaries shut up shop and that all she had left were the lines on her face and a hole in her heart. And Richard would be forty soon; if he wanted to be an active, hands-on father, they shouldn’t wait much longer.

  She could live with bad sex, couldn’t she? The minute she had the baby she’d probably lose interest anyway. What was another few months? Then they’d turn into devoted, loving parents, and the baby would bring them together.

  She returned to watching the family outside, but as she did so, the baby started crying, and in her rush to comfort it, its mother trod on the other child’s foot, sending him off into hysterics. Anna surveyed the chaos with a sinking heart. It was different with your own children, she reminded herself. That’s what everyone said, anyway.

  She turned back to her PC and retreated into a game of Spider Solitaire.

  ***

  Inside her spare room, Nathalie was mixing oils, a distraction from thinking about the events of the previous night. She’d made up the one for Douglas’s muscle strain, but wondered if he didn’t need something more protective, before deciding that, more than anyone, Douglas was perfectly capable of protecting himself. Next, she felt inspired to make potions up for her neighbours. What did Ginnie need most, she mused, before deciding on cardamom, ginger, palmarosa, rosemary and ylang-ylang, a potent mix said to attract love. She added droplets of each to a sweet almond oil carrier, shook it gently and inhaled.

  Then she turned her attention to Anna and Richard. How could she solve that little problem? Anna was becoming possessive and Nathalie needed for her marriage to be happy. Suddenly she knew exactly what she should do, and mixed up ylang-ylang, patchouli and nutmeg, the most sensuous combination of essential oils. If that didn’t spice up their love life, Nathalie thought, nothing would.

  As she packaged them up, tying twine around the bottles as she’d been taught in evening class, Nathalie wondered what might work for Tanya, but as nothing intuitively came to her, she decided to leave it until something did. She put her oils in a small basket and set off on her deliveries, an esoteric messenger, delivering surprise packages to the unexpecting.

  ‘Present for you,’ she told Douglas, brandishing the bottle. ‘To say thank you for our drive yesterday.’

  ‘Will you administer it?’

  ‘A couple of drops, rubbed in when it feels sore. You’ll be back on your bike in no time.’

  ‘Rather that than the car, perhaps?’

  ‘What are you going to do, Douglas? You can’t live your life in fear?’

  ‘I won’t. I’ll simply ignore them. They don’t intimidate me.’

  ‘You’ll understand if I won’t go on another drive with you in the near future?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s plenty we could do to amuse ourselves just here.’

  He looked deep into her eyes and Nathalie felt herself being drawn towards him, as if he was luring her, forcing her against her own will. She lingered a second too long on his doorstep, wondering what would happen if she made herself available to him. She needed a man. As much as it was a joy to make love with a woman again, she needed the hardness of a man, she needed to feel more than just two fingers inside her, and she needed to be weighed down by someone significantly stronger than she was, someone rougher and more urgent.

  She turned to leave. ‘Just be careful,’ she said.

  In the car park, she spotted Ginnie, throwing her bag into the back of her car. ‘Off to Tiggles?’

  Ginnie looked at her awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. ‘Not this time, no. I’m just going in to town, you know, running errands. Nothing special.’

  ‘I just wanted to give you this.’ Nathalie
handed over the bottle. ‘It’s a hobby of mine, mixing essential oils. You could wear it as a perfume?’

  ‘Thank you, Nathalie, what a beautiful bottle.’ Ginnie opened it and inhaled its scent. ‘It’s quite spicy, isn’t it? I’ll put some on right away.’ She dabbed some behind her ears. ‘Not that I’m seeing anyone special or anything,’ she added with a forced laugh. ‘Just errands and a bit of shopping.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain yourself,’ Nathalie told her. ‘I just hope you like it.’

  She turned away, wondering what Ginnie was trying to hide, and headed to Anna’s. Her body ached for her.

  When she knocked on the door, Anna appeared within seconds. ‘I didn’t think you’d come today,’ she gasped, ushering Nathalie inside.

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘You know, after yesterday. Your evening with Douglas. I just thought - ‘

  ‘Nothing happened between me and Douglas,’ Nathalie said, dumping her basket on the floor before taking her lover’s face in her hands and kissing her.

  Anna pulled away. ‘Really? Sunset at Aphrodite’s Baths? It’s beyond romantic.’

  ‘We had champagne, I went for a swim, and then we nearly got killed on the way back by some of his dodgy Russian mates.’ As Anna reacted, she placed her finger over her mouth, before slipping it inside. ‘No jealousy, no threats, let’s just enjoy?’

  They sank onto Anna’s sofa, a tangle of limbs and lips, and all Anna could think of was how happy she was that Nathalie was with her, and how badly she wanted them to make love in every room of her house, so that when the time came that they parted, the memories would linger in her mind. Nathalie’s hand was reaching up inside Anna’s skirt, caressing her thighs before it found her knickers, and instead of pulling them down her fingers just slipped under the material until they found what they wanted, and Anna gasped as Nathalie played her like a piano, stroking and pressing just where she needed it most.

  ‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’ she asked, gasping for breath. ‘Someone might see inside. That family out there, I’d just prefer it if - ’

  Nathalie removed her hand from her lover’s knickers and they climbed up the stairs, where they fell on to Anna’s unmade bed, still warm from the smells of her husband. Nathalie pulled up Anna’s skirt and pulled her knickers to one side, before burying her tongue inside her, lapping and licking, drinking in the essence of her lover.

  Anna was almost tearful with happiness, and as she stroked Nathalie’s hair, she wondered if she might ever reach such peaks of joy again. ‘I want you at the same time,’ she whispered, pulling off her top and skirt and turning round so that her face was close to Nathalie’s cunt. Nathalie threw off her dress and they lay there, in mirror image, their faces pressed at each other’s pussies, and as Nathalie inserted her fingers, so Anna did the same, as Nathalie gave her anus a lick, Anna did the same, until both fell into the rhythmic lapping each desired, and as Anna imagined what they must look like, her orgasm erupted, which triggered Nathalie’s, and they both pressed and licked and sucked until each was sated and exhausted, lying there together, drenched.

  It was only once she was leaving, an hour later, that Nathalie remembered the bottle, still in her basket by the front door. ‘Massage oil, for you and Richard,’ she said, handing it to Anna.

  ‘Or for you and me?’ Anna suggested, opening it. ‘It smells heavenly, too good to waste on him.’

  ‘You want your marriage to work, no? Then try it. For the fun.’

  The words caught Anna off-guard. That Nathalie could be encouraging her to have sex with another person? ‘You never get jealous?’ she asked in desperation. ‘The thought of Richard and me together, it doesn’t bother you?’

  ‘Should it?’

  ‘It’s just, if you care about someone, surely you get jealous about them, too?’

  ‘I’ve never seen it that way.’

  ‘Who are you, Nathalie? I don’t know you at all.’ Anna said the words before she could stop herself. She was pushing her lover away, but with a force from somewhere within her that she felt powerless to stop.

  ‘You know enough.’

  ‘I know nothing! You might just as well have arrived in Cyprus on a shell like Aphrodite. You don’t seem to have emotions like the rest of us.’

  Nathalie allowed a pause. ‘I have emotions.’

  ‘You never show them!’

  ‘I’m sorry if I’m not prone to hysteria, or jealous fits of rage, how inconvenient of me.’ She opened the front door to leave.

  ‘No, don’t go! Please.’ Anna couldn’t bear to see her lover leave, not that way. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh God, I’m such an idiot.’ She looked at Nathalie helplessly. ‘I’m sorry. I know, I know. You’re a free spirit while I’m bogged down with hurt and resentment and jealousy. Forgive me.’

  Nathalie approached her, cupping her face in her hands. ‘Didn’t we agree? What we’ve got is about pleasure. That’s all. No complications, no recriminations, just pleasure.’ She kissed her.

  ‘You’re right. I’m just being stupid.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’ Nathalie stepped out of the front door. ‘And use that oil. Have fun.’

  ‘Of course.’ How could Nathalie stay so calm? ‘I’ll see you after the weekend?’ There was more than a hint of desperation in Anna’s voice.

  ‘Yes,’ Nathalie told her patiently, as if negotiating with a petulant child. ‘Of course you will.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘My name’s Ginnie Clark, and I’m an alcoholic.’ There, it was out. Ginnie had never felt more ashamed, and yet at the same time felt this was a positive step. ‘Like most people, I started drinking socially. Maybe a bit too much, but it never felt like a problem. Then I came to Cyprus - after a break-up - and although I try to keep myself busy, I’ve probably got too much time on my hands. I’ve been drinking more, and lately, that’s led to some serious errors of judgement. I’ve now been sober for six days.’

  A this, the handful of the assembled gathering applauded.

  ‘I have a new ritual, and am drinking lots of fruit smoothies,’ she added with a shy laugh, which only made the applause louder. If only, she thought, there was one half-decent man there. Instead, the group consisted of one old duffer in his seventies, two plump middle-aged women and a down-and-out type in his thirties who was probably only there for the free tea. Did Ginnie really need all this? Compared to that lot, she thought, she was already ahead of the game.

  The room was so hot it was stifling. Ginnie thought she’d have grown accustomed to the heat by now but today seemed even more excessive than usual. It was August, after all. Perhaps she should take a trip back to England, she wondered, as the old man started sharing his story. Wasn’t it time she visited her aunt in Leicester? It would certainly be cooler there. She wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, and tried to look interested.

  She still hadn’t heard from Tanya about her proposal. If they turned it down she’d simply try all the other property developers until one agreed. This would give her a purpose. Ginnie had a subtle look at her watch. She hadn’t known what to expect, but had just thought... a nice divorcee, rebuilding his life, or a widower, who was ready to start anew. At least a larger group of people so she could watch quietly from the back, sizing each of them up. It was hard to believe there were really so few alcoholics in Paphos.

  At least her perfume smelt nice, she thought, inhaling her wrist. How very sweet of Nathalie, it wasn’t often someone did something genuinely thoughtful these days. She could barely understand what the old man was saying, his accent was so thick. This had been a mistake, she decided. She was perfectly capable of sorting out her own problems, now that she’d at least faced up to them. And those fruit smoothies were really becoming addictive.

  Perhaps she’d try a new ad in the local
freebie, Ginnie thought, giving up on the old man’s story all together. At least they could meet somewhere with air-con. Ginnie felt the sweat trickling down between her breasts. She could be at home now having a chilled red berry smoothie and the attentions of her lapping tongue. The very thought sent a ripple straight through to her pussy. Another half an hour, she thought, glancing surreptitiously at her watch. She could manage that much.

  ***

  Two miles along the seafront in a business standard hotel, Nathalie was reminding herself what cock tasted like. It had been a long time.

  The cock in question belonged to a Michel Bachar, a Lebanese wine distributor who made regular visits to the island. Tall, with olive skin, penetrating eyes and a ready smile, he was more than happy to let Nathalie take the lead. They’d met in the bar, had a couple of drinks and some olives together, and then fallen, kissing, into the lift which took them up to his sixth floor guest-room.

  Nathalie had no idea if he was married or not - he wasn’t wearing a ring, in any case. All she wanted was to feel his cock inside her, to melt into him, to feel his hands on her breasts and buttocks. His hard-on was strong and his balls full, and as he pulled her up and began to unfasten her dress, Nathalie loved the insistent tingling that was happening between her legs, and the hardening of her nipples under the air-conditioning. He kissed her neck, her face, her lips, his hands caressing her back and buttocks, and as they fell on the bed, the weight of him was so unfamiliar, as was his smell, his hair, his skin.

  Making love to one person, either man or woman, was always wonderful but, like a favourite meal, in danger of becoming repetitive. Anna, despite her jealousy and needs, was like a fine gourmet turbot, she was elegant and light, and worked well with a crisp white wine. Michel, Nathalie decided, was more of a robust lamb stew, warm and satisfying, and better washed down with a full-bodied red.

  As his head sank between her legs and his lips found her own, Nathalie lay back, focusing on the deliciousness of what he was doing, and the anticipation of what would come next. As she became increasingly aroused she called for him to enter her, and he slid inside as if he’d done so many times in the past, as if this was the most usual thing in the world, and as they pounded together, their rhythms combined and breaths quickening, Nathalie arched one leg around his back and drew her even further inside herself.