by Guy Lilburne
She was approached time and time again by men of all shapes, sizes, ages and nationalities, but she wouldn’t entertain any of them. Men grouped around her trying to work out what she wanted. She certainly was the centre of attention. Her two friends accepted drinks from men and had dances from time to time, but the ‘girl at the bar’ wouldn’t even talk to any of them. She would either totally ignore them or, if they persisted, she would just say “I’m sorry. Will you leave me alone!”
If she had a gun I think that she would have just shot them. As the night went on I actually didn’t like her very much. I thought that she was a cold fish with a lot more attitude than personality. But I still had to keep checking her out. We hadn’t had eye contact since the initial glance, but I was delighted just to be there in the same bar, looking at her. I was already hoping that she would be in the bar again the next night. It was good fun watching the blokes spot her as they came in and then try to move in on her. All sorts of tactics were used, direct and indirect. All failed miserably within seconds. The girl at the bar was really something. I had never seen anybody like her before. She looked like the singer, Andrea Corr, but even more beautiful. From the occasional word I heard I could tell that she and her friends were Irish and, like all people do, I fell in love with the accent.
I got to bed at 8.00 am. It had been a great first night, and the highlight of the night was the ‘girl at the bar’.
The next night was much the same and the girl at the bar was there, but I didn’t even get a glance from her that night. As I was standing at the bar, watching Mick and Alan, Gary and Vince doing their thing on the dance floor, a girl came up to me.
“Hello” she said in a great Dublin accent.
“Hello” I said in a great English one. She told me that her name was Maureen and that she was 34 years old. She said that she was a partner in her own business in Dublin, had a brand new black BMW convertible and earned £60,000 a year. I don’t know why she told me all that. She didn’t have to, I liked her anyway. She was good company. She had a certain charm, a good sense of humour and enormous tits. She wasn’t beautiful, but you wouldn’t have been ashamed to be seen with her either. She was very forward and chatted me up outrageously. She told me that she had noticed me the previous night and asked if I realised what a stir I was creating amongst the ladies. “You’re taking the piss” I said.
The other lads came back from the dance floor and they all thought Maureen was great fun. I was happy enough to be talking to her, but I still kept on checking out the girl at the bar. She was still rejecting advance after brave advance from the men folk. I thought she must be fed up with getting approached all the time, when it was so obvious to anyone who looked, that she didn’t want to be approached.
Maureen was very tactile and kept touching my arm or shoulder, chest or my hands, almost as if she didn’t notice that she was doing it. But I had noticed. She stood ever closer to me and her huge boobs seemed to be pressed constantly against me. Maybe she hadn’t realised, but I suspect that she did. Within half an hour she was holding my hand. I just let her. It didn’t mean anything. It was just Maureen’s way.
Occasionally she would pop back to her friends, a group of girls standing at the other side of the bar, but like me, Maureen had come on holiday by herself. A couple of hours later we were standing at the bar wrapped around each other and kissing quite regularly. Maureen asked me if I wanted to walk her home. I thought that it was a fucking long way to Dublin, but I knew she meant her room at the Greenfields Hotel. By now I was flirting with her big style. I was being funny and charming and, even though I wasn’t so bothered about her, I knew I was going to shag her anyway.
When we got in her room we could hear someone shagging on the next balcony. Yes, romance was certainly in the air at the Greenfields Hotel. Within minutes we were kissing on the bed, groping and undressing each other. Her tits were surprisingly hard I thought and, if one of them was to accidentally bash me on the head, it might cause some serious brain damage! We had sex two or three times through the night, and I went back to my apartment at about 9.30 am.
It was probably a mistake making love with Maureen. She seemed to like me too much and I got the feeling that it had meant quite a lot to her. The sex had been good. She really let her hair down and enjoyed me banging her hard. She kept shouting “Holy Jesus, fuck me!” I could never stand in for the great man himself, but I did my best. The next night I went to the Hawaiian Tasca Bar, as usual, and the girl at the bar was there with her mates. I seemed to get a lot of eye contact with her friends. I got the feeling that they were talking about me, but the beautiful princess at the bar never looked at me at all.
After about an hour Maureen came into the bar with her friends. She came right over to me and sort of draped herself around me. I didn’t like it.
“How would you cope living with a partner who earns more than you do?” she asked. I just shrugged my shoulders.
“I don’t know. It has never happened to me.”
“Last year, with bonuses, I earned £85,000.”
“Well done” I said, wondering what the hell she was on about.
“I think this is more than just a holiday romance. I think this is the real thing” she said and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Oh my god! She’s fucking crackers!’ I thought to myself.
“What do you want to drink?” I asked, changing the subject.
The night was the same as the previous nights. I kept checking out the girl at the bar pissing off all the blokes that tried to approach her. She really was something else. She was probably the most beautiful girl that most of the men in there had ever seen. She should have been a model or something! Whatever she was, I didn’t think that she was very happy with life.
A very strange thing happened that night. I went to the toilet and, while I was standing there having a piss, a bloke came in and stood next to me to piss.
“What are you doing with that girl?” he said.
“Pardon!” I had heard him but was totally surprised by his question. In men’s toilets it is not polite to hold a conversation whilst you are holding your dick.
“The girl at the bar thinks you’re lovely.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew exactly who he meant by the ‘girl at the bar’, but I thought that he was just having a laugh at my expense. An hour later I went to the toilet again and a different man came in and said.
“The girl at the bar thinks you are fucking gorgeous. What are you doing, messing about with that other girl for?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, forgetting about my ‘don’t talk to men in toilets while you are holding your dick’ rule.
“I’m not fucking kidding mate. She told me. She tells every bloke who tries to talk to her she’s only interested in you. I would get in there if I was you, you lucky bastard!”
“Thanks mate.” I thought it was really nice of him to tell me and I was very grateful, but I didn’t bother to shake his hand. I felt really stunned. I guess it’s like being told that you have won the lottery. You just can’t believe it until you have the money in the bank. I wasn’t sure what was going on. Maybe these blokes were just having a laugh, but just in case, I kept checking out the girl at the bar even more than I had before. But still I never got so much as a glance. I must have been right. They were just having a laugh, trying to get me to embarrass myself by going to try to talk to her. I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself.
I ended up taking Maureen back to her hotel again, and we had sex again two or three times during the night. I got back to my apartment at about 8.30 am. I had another good day in the sun, lying around the pool, and now I was looking really brown, and I was feeling good.
I had made some friends around the pool. There was a young Scottish couple. Both were only 21 years old. They had just got married and come to Gran
Canaria on their honeymoon. They were so white, they looked blue! The lad’s idea of sunbathing was to lay on his sunbed with his trainers and socks on. He had shorts down to his knees, and he kept a big Glasgow Celtic towel over his stomach, chest and head. His new wife had no excuse, she lay out topless in only tiny little bikini bottoms, all day every day. They were both as white when they went home as they were on the day that they arrived. The lad wasn’t bothered but the girl was upset about it. It was amazing the sun just didn’t touch them. The other funny thing about them is that they never talked to each other. He lay under his towel and she read a book. They talked to other people but never to each other. I liked talking to them because his wife had great tits with really cute pink nipples that seemed to be constantly erect. I kept trying to think of an excuse or reason to start sucking on them, but I couldn’t think of one, so I never actually got to do it. But I took lots of photos.
The other couple I made friends with was a Jewish couple from Kent. They were both about mid-forties to fifty. They seemed to have some money and both would wear a lot of gold. They owned a couple of hairdresser’s shops. She would always sunbathe topless and whenever I was sitting with them she spent an absolute age rubbing suntan oil into her tits whilst she chatted to me. I was convinced that she was only doing it for my benefit. This was confirmed beyond doubt when one day she was sitting on her sunbed talking to me while her husband laid on the bed the other side of her. She had a towel wrapped around her and tied at the waist. The way she sat with her legs slightly open I could see up her towel and I could see her yellow bikini bottoms. She asked her husband and myself if we wanted another beer, put her top on, grabbed her bag and went inside to the bar. She returned with the beers, took her top back off and sat down again, just as she was before, only this time I could see that she had no bikini bottoms on. She had taken them off. It was just like a ‘spot the difference’ competition, and I had spotted it straight away. I looked at her and she just smiled at me. She saw me looking. I think we both found it very sexy. She massaged oil into her boobs and then her legs, pulling her towel up even further to give me a better view of her pussy, opening her legs wider and rubbing the oil into her inside thighs. She only did it that one time, even though we chatted every day. Even now all these years later, I still get erect thinking about that day! They left after the first week.
That night I went to the Hawaiian Tasca Bar as usual, and again the girl at the bar was there with her friends. I don’t know if I imagined it or not, but I was aware of a lot of people, male and female, looking at me, or at least, looking from me to the girl at the bar.
It was as if everybody knew something that I didn’t. The girl at the bar must have been used to people staring at her, but I wasn’t and it felt uncomfortable.
Maureen turned up with one of her friends. I had met a few of her friends by now and, to be honest, I fancied all of them more than I fancied Maureen. Don’t get me wrong, Maureen was a nice person, and she certainly wasn’t ugly, but all her friends seemed to be more attractive. I am quite a shallow person, deep down! Besides all that, I was on holiday. The first time I went to the toilet another man came in.
“Mate….”
“Yes I know….the girl at the bar!”
“Yeah. What are you doing with that other one?”
I went back and stood with Maureen and her friend. A couple of minutes later I was checking out the girl at the bar when she suddenly looked up and smiled at me. I smiled back and she sort of dropped her head to one side and looked, almost pleading with me. She raised her delicate hand and with a finger beckoned me over to her. She smiled again, pleading with her beautiful eyes.
What I did next was a terrible thing to do, and really nasty. But I would defy anyone who was in that position to have done anything different.
I turned to Maureen, who was talking to her mate.
“Excuse me” I said. “I have to go now.”
“What?”
“Maureen, I think you are getting too serious and I don’t want to get into a relationship. So I have to go now.”
“Wait. We need to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going right now.”
“Where are you going?”
I nodded towards the girl at the bar.
“I’m going to talk to her.”
Maureen looked round
“Jesus Christ! The girl at the bar. When did you fecking meet her?”
“I haven’t met her yet. I’m going to meet her now. I’m really very sorry.”
And, at that, I left her standing there, in shock, and walked around to the girl at the bar. As I approached her, her two friends walked past me onto the dance floor. They both said ‘hello’ as they passed. As I walked up to her she pulled out a bar stool for me and we both just grinned broadly at each other.
“Thanks for coming over. Jesus Christ! You’re a cool customer.” Her Dublin accent was rich. I sat next to her.
“You are kidding. There’s nothing cool about me.”
“Oh my god! You’re English!”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Bad of course. I thought that you were Irish. I hate the fecking English. I hate injustice, and they have caused more of it than anybody.”
“Well, my grandparents were Irish, but they died before I was born, so we didn’t get to know each other so well. I’m very sorry for all the injustices the English may have caused! Do you want me to leave? Is our holiday romance over already?”
“No, feck it. You can stay. You don’t think you’re cool?”
“God no! Not at all.”
“Come on will ya! You flash your eyes at the girls, look at them just long enough to get them interested and then you ignore them for the rest of the night. How cool is that! You do the same look as Princess Diana.”
“I do not. I have been looking at you all week, and if I’m cool then, you are frozen ice.” She laughed and lit up another cigarette before explaining.
“No. I have to be like that. I get men bothering me all the time. They are eejits. You have to be very strict and show them you mean business when you say no. If you smile at them and say ‘I’m not interested, thank you’ they then carry on and stand there saying things like ‘What a beautiful smile.’ Fecking eejits. I must have heard every chat up line in the book. That’s why I can’t give them any sign of encouragement or even the slightest hope. They’d never leave me alone.”
She was smiling and chatty, and very animated. She seemed happy to be talking to someone. She laughed easily and I instantly felt surprisingly comfortable with her.
“What did you say to your lady friend there?”
“I told her that I wanted to come and talk to you, and that I didn’t want to see her anymore.”
“Holy Jesus! Did you have sex with her?”
“Yes.” I looked down and realised I was doing a Princess Diana look.
“And you don’t think you are cool?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You cool bastard.” She laughed and playfully punched me on the arm.
“I would never have spoken to her if I ever thought that I would end up talking to you. I noticed you as soon as I came in here on the first night. I sort of liked you straight away, but you just looked at me as if you wanted me to crawl away and die.”
“I noticed you too, ya fecker, and you didn’t look at me again.”
“I’ve never stopped looking at you, and stop calling me a fucker.”
She gasped in shock and put her hand over her mouth.
“Fecker, not fucker.” She laughed out loud.
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a big difference. Jesus! I saw ya woman come onto you. I can’t believe that you’ve had sex with her. If I knew tha
t you were going to be that easy I would have come over to you myself.”
Now it was my turn to be shocked.
The conversation flowed easily, and quickly became a two way flow of compliments. My confidence soared as I realised how much she liked me. We talked quickly and without any silent pauses. The topics changed without any pattern or logic and we jumped back and forth between them. There was an energy between us. She was intelligent and witty, passionate about Ireland and her views on Northern Ireland, and the ‘British bullies’ who had blighted her country’s history.
From across the bar she looked like a beautiful, feminine, gentle and serene princess, who would probably only ever speak in a soft whisper that common people like me couldn’t hear. She was in fact so much more. She was a strong willed character who knew her own mind and would fight anyone for what she thought was right.
There was no doubting this when, a little while later, Maureen came over to us. I had forgotten all about her and hadn’t even looked over to see if she was still standing there.
