by John Hughes
She needn’t have worried. As they flew out across the English Channel and traversed mainland Europe, he visibly began to relax. His shoulders lowered and he sat back in his seat, gazing out at the extraordinary spectacle of the world laid out below like a giant, textured three-dimensional map. A gin and tonic helped.
The plane landed at Kalamata airport from where they would be transferred by coach to Stoupa. When they stepped off the plane to walk to the terminus building, the heat hit them as if an oven door had been opened.
“Goodness!” remarked Adrian, loosening his tie.
“Take it off altogether,” suggested Sue. Adrian thought about this for a moment then, tempting though it was, decided against what was a step too far for the time being. He did, however, remove his jacket and carried it over his arm.
The coach was comfortable; air conditioned and only two-thirds full. It was a beautiful journey, through Kalamata itself, following the long beach road before beginning a gradual climb up zigzag roads onto high ground with stunning views of the ocean, deep blue and hugely inviting. They were given an almost continuous narrative by a lady from the tour operator which, frankly, they could have done without. She seemed to be of the opinion that any silence was a weakness in their quality of customer service. It varied from tedious and banal (pointing out a rocky outcrop that looked to her like a crocodile and to everyone else like a rocky outcrop) to occasionally informative and useful (Greek plumbing is rubbish – always put your toilet paper in the bin, and never down the loo for fear of causing a blockage). It took an hour and a half to reach Stoupa, and once there the coach stopped off at various points to disembark people close to their allotted hotel or apartment. Adrian and Sue’s was a two-bedroomed flat in a block called The Alexandra. It was set back down an alleyway off a road that ran parallel with the beach, on the first floor with a balcony that overlooked an olive grove; comfortable, secluded, and only five minutes’ walk from the sea.
In short, it was ideal.
Once they had settled in, unpacked a little and changed, they wandered down to the seafront. The beach was sandy and stretched in a natural curve for half a mile or so from one promontory to another. Along the front were cafés, bars, shops and restaurants, each one as appealing as the next. It was more touristy than they had expected but not to the point of being disappointing. By then it was early evening and having perused the restaurant menus they chose one on the southern promontory, slightly raised up and affording a delightful view across the bay. It seemed more traditionally Greek than most of the others. They ordered lamb kleftiko and a carafe of local wine, then wandered back to their apartment and went to bed feeling tired but very content.
The next day they wandered down to the beach, paid for a couple of sunbeds and spent the day sunbathing, reading and occasionally dipping in the sea. Sue wore her new bathing costume which Adrian complimented her on. He wore shorts that hung down almost to his knees and, to Sue’s dismay, socks and sandals. Fortunately he removed both after a while. He also wore a shirt at first but that too was discarded as the heat of the sun intensified towards midday. Lunch was a Greek salad, bread and a glass of retsina at the apartment, then back onto the beach. In the evening they wandered to the other promontory and had dinner in a restaurant that was virtually a mirror image of the one they’d chosen the night before. Another delicious meal with wine.
When they arrived back at the apartment and got ready for bed, Sue was hoping that you know what might happen. She was feeling very happy and relaxed and adored having Adrian all to herself. She wanted to show her affection towards him. But as they got in to bed, Adrian pecked her on the cheek, said goodnight and turned his back.
Their second full day was pretty much a repeat of the first, only that evening they tried a restaurant in the centre of the bay. It proved disappointing.
The next morning, they had breakfast in a café on the front and sat next to a couple roughly their own age who hailed from Warrington. They got chatting. The topic of Stoupa being a bit too touristy cropped up.
“Not the place to come to get away from the madding crowd,” said the man, whose name was Bobby. “If you want to do that, best wander down’t coast to Agios Nikolaos. It’s a lovely fishing village, relatively unspoilt, about an hour’s walk. We did it the other day, didn’t we Pet?”
“We did,” said his wife. “It were right nice.” She pointed towards the road that led out of the bay to the south. “Just keep walking out of town along that road and there’s a path signed where houses stop. Take a bottle of water, to keep you going ‘til taverna half way.”
An hour later, after a quick pit stop back at the apartment, Adrian and Sue were heading out of Stoupa en route for Agios Nikolaos. It was a charming walk, through olive groves on the edge of town then onto a path that followed the contours of the coast to their right with a backdrop of high ground verging on mountainous to their left. They passed the halfway taverna but decided against stopping and carried on until they reached their destination.
Agios Nikolaos was just how it had been described; relatively unspoilt with a tiny harbour and cafés and bars that still catered for the locals more than tourists. It was how Stoupa might have been fifty years before. They wandered around the village then sat down outside a harbourside bar and ordered iced coffees. They watched fishing boats come and go, manned by what Adrian referred to as ancient Greeks; old fishermen with deeply tanned, leathery skin and dark eyes that still sparkled with life. They talked incessantly and when their tasks were finished sat with even older men, presumably the previous generation of fishermen, to play cards and put the world to rights.
Adrian and Sue spent the day pottering around, lunching at a taverna overlooking the harbour, swimming from the rocky outcrops around the harbour, lying on a nearby beach reading, and eventually strolling back along the path to Stoupa in the late afternoon. Again they passed the halfway taverna without stopping, reached home and sat on their veranda sipping retsina and nibbling black Kalamata olives. It had been the perfect day; so perfect that they repeated it every day for the rest of their holiday. They had fallen in love with Agios Nikolaos.
Sue could not have been happier; with the exception of one area of disappointment. She had hoped that being away together, relaxed and in such a romantic setting, Adrian might have shown more affection towards her than usual. But by the penultimate day of their holiday, they still had not done you know what and Adrian had shown no inclination even to try. The bedroom department was not happening at all. One night she had tried to snuggle up to him in bed but he had turned away from her and with a “goodnight dearest” adopted a foetal position. Shallow snoring soon followed.
On their last full day they did the coastal walk again, then had lunch with a carafe of retsina before lazing on the beach until it was time to head back along the path. It was Sue’s idea to stop at the taverna, out of curiosity more than thirst, although it did feel inordinately hot and the idea of an ice-cold beer was a temptation worth giving in to.
It was a simple, fairly crude building, set back from the path with a pleasant veranda shaded by palm trees and a sort of rockery in front that seemed only recently to have been laid out. There were a few other couples sitting drinking, some they recognised from passing on the path. The waiter spoke fluent English. His name was Georgios. He was in his forties, charming and wore surprisingly neat, well cut trousers and shirt. Sue thought he was good looking, although she would have preferred him clean-shaven rather than stubble-chinned. From the moment they arrived he flirted with her non-stop. Adrian seemed oblivious but Sue revelled in the attention. She particularly liked his habit of brushing against her as he served their drinks.
One beer led to another and late afternoon slipped into early evening. Having no particular plans for their last night, they decided to stay where they were for dinner.
It was idyllic sitting on the veranda, gazing out across the sea with the sun m
aking its way gradually down towards the horizon, sipping their drinks and picking at a selection of meze dishes, accompanied by the omnipotent drone of cicadas. The beers were followed by retsina, rather a lot of it, and to round off a truly sumptuous meal, coffee with Metaxa, a brandy-based liqueur that Georgios recommended they try.
By the time they decided to leave, they were both quite drunk. Sue got up to visit the loo, the entrance to which was at the side of the tavern and not visible from the veranda. As she came out, she all but barrelled into Georgios who was standing immediately outside for no apparent reason. Suddenly she was virtually nose to nose with him and their bodies were touching. Instinctively she pulled away, but Georgios took hold of her arms and kept her close. She could feel his breath on her face and smell him; a clean, sweet, warm aroma. He stared into her eyes.
“You are very beautiful,” he said.
“Why thank you.”
“I wanted you the moment I saw you.”
She stifled a nervous giggle. He sounded like a bag of clichés. Clearly this was not the first time he had stood there and said such things. Yet it was rather nice to hear – to know that a man thought that of her. “Very kind of you,” she said graciously.
She felt his hands move round to her buttocks and squeeze them. He leaned forward and kissed her forcefully, his tongue filling her mouth. Under normal circumstances she would have been appalled and disgusted and pushed him away, screamed even. But she was drunk, and it felt really good, and she let it happen. She could feel his erection pressing against her.
“Georgios!” The voice bellowed from the veranda. It followed through with something in Greek which could well have been “Where the bloody hell are you?” Georgios pulled away, running a hand over her breasts as he did, then as a parting gesture down under her skirt and between her legs. Instinctively, defensively, she closed them together, only to trap his hand there for a few pleasurable moments. Then he was gone.
Sue tottered on her feet until she had regained her composure, patted herself down and returned to the veranda. Adrian had paid the bill during her absence, so they set off. She looked back as they left and saw Georgios walking to a table with a tray in one hand, waving at her with the other. He blew her a kiss.
They walked in silence for a while, taking it gently as the path twisted and turned; it was not well lit. There was no one else around. Sue was aroused. Being touched by Georgios had awoken something in her and the combination of his kiss, his hands on her body and the alcohol had stirred her.
“Nice place,” said Adrian, slurring his words. “Good food, good wine, good service. We should have gone there before.”
“We should,” replied Sue. “And it’s not the only thing we should have done before now.”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” They had walked around a narrow inlet and were on the opposite side from the taverna. She took his hand, marched him off the path and down a track through sand dunes onto a secluded stretch of beach, and started undoing his trouser belt.
“Susan, what are you doing?” exclaimed Adrian, trying to stop her. He invariably called her Sue. Susan was a reprimand.
“It’s not what I’m doing,” she replied, “it’s what you’re going to do to me. Something you should have done the first night we arrived… and the second and third for that matter.” She tugged his trousers down and then his underpants, taking his limp penis in her hand and massaging it until it began to harden. Then she bent down and put it in her mouth.
“Susan! Stop that at once!”
She did not reply; could not reply. Her mouth was full. When she judged he was erect enough, she stood up, slipped her knickers down from beneath her light summer skirt, and undid the buttons on her blouse, exposing her breasts. “Come on,” she said. “We’re going to do it… here and now.”
“Do what?” said Adrian, swaying and trying to keep his balance with his trousers around his ankles.
“You know very well.” She tugged his penis. “You’re going to put this inside me.” She sat down on the sand and lay back, lifting up her skirt and spreading her legs. “Come on, Adrian.”
“But… but we can’t. Not here.”
“Yes we can, and I won’t take no for an answer.” She put a hand between her legs and began to rub herself. She was already wet. Georgios had started it and now her sudden burst of sexual aggression was helping nicely.
Adrian stood above her, gazing down, seemingly unable to take in what his wife was proposing. Defensively he put both his hands down to cover himself, but his erection poked out from between them. He felt instinctively that this was wrong, although what Sue had just done to him felt good. She’d only ever done it once before, early on in their marriage, and he had discouraged her from a repeat performance. But in his drunken state he had enjoyed the warm feeling it gave him.
“Come on, Adrian, get on with it, will you? I’m not leaving here until we’ve made love.” He continued to stand there. Sue was losing patience. She stood up. “Alright, let’s make it easy for you.” She took his hand and pulled him towards the back of the beach where a row of boulders was set in a line, a crude attempt to keep the sand dunes from eroding. With trousers and pants still round his ankles, Adrian waddled like a penguin. “Take them off,” she ordered. Adrian did as he was told. When they reached the nearest boulder, Sue slipped off her skirt, leaned forward across it so that her backside was sticking provocatively towards her husband and said: “There, you can keep standing. Just edge towards me and it will slip inside. Come on, darling, do it… please?”
Adrian was shocked. This was something else they had never done before, from behind, fornicating like beasts in the field… or on the beach to be precise. His mind was beginning to numb. Again, he just stood there. He couldn’t think straight beyond a general feeling that this was very wrong.
“ADRIAN!” screamed Sue. “DO IT!”
He’d never heard her raise her voice before. This was even more shocking to him. Obediently he moved towards her until the tip of his erection was touching her bottom. Sue put a hand down, took hold of his shaft and directed it between her legs. It felt good as it began sliding inside her. She wriggled and pushed herself back towards him to help it on its way. Soon it was filling her completely. Please don’t finish too soon, she said to herself. Please let it last.
She was in luck. Adrian was drunk enough that his sensitivity was numbed, but not so much that his prowess was impaired. He began to push himself in and out of her, getting into a rhythm. She started to pant, which seemed to encourage him more, and once his inhibitions were behind him he got well and truly into the swing of it, thrusting away energetically. For Sue it felt wonderful. Normally Adrian was timid, too timid, but this was anything but. He was really going for it.
Soon afterwards his rhythm came to an abrupt halt. Between thrusts he had pulled back further than was necessary, his penis popped out and he fell backwards onto the sand.
“Get back here this instant!” ordered Sue.
“I don’t think I can. It’s nice just lying here.”
“Do as you’re told!”
“I really don’t think…”
“I don’t want you to think, I want you to do it to me!”
Adrian staggered to his feet. He felt even more drunk than before, but managed to find his wife’s backside again and pushed his penis in the general direction.
“Get on with it,” said Sue, her tone edged with frustration. She too was drunk to the extent that just about all her inhibitions had vanished. Georgios’s blunt, crude sexual advances had seen to that.
Adrian too was becoming frustrated. He was not in control, his wife was calling the shots, and drunk as he was he was not comfortable with this unprecedented role reversal. He felt the need to re-establish himself, not in any logical way, but how present circumstances allowed. He growled, grabbed her buttocks and pre
ssed his erection at her. It felt some resistance. He pushed and felt it gradually entering her.
“Ahh!” cried Sue. “No!”
No? Surely not, thought Adrian. It’s what she wants – what she’d been goading me to do! He pushed harder, feeling dominant. It felt good. Normally when they did you know what he never really experienced any great sensation, apart from the obvious one at the end. But this felt different.
“Adrian, stop!”
Her words fell on deaf ears. No way was he going to stop. He thrust even harder and felt himself penetrate right into her.
“Oh… oh!”
Sue went quiet. She stopped complaining, and seemed to accept what Adrian was doing to her. He was pummelling away, making guttural noises, like an animal. He was forcing himself on her for the first time in their marriage. He was being a man. With one hand she steadied herself against the boulder, with the other she rubbed herself. As Adrian reached his climax, so she reached hers. His final thrusts into her were intense, almost barbaric.
Adrian fell back again, drained and exhausted. Sue leaned forward against the boulder, gasping, her breasts pressing against the cool stone.
When it was over, a round of applause rose from the direction of the taverna. The English vicar and his wife had been in full view of customers on the veranda, courtesy of spotlights that reached out across the inlet. Fortunately for them, Adrian and Sue were completely oblivious to the fact. They heard the distant applause but had no idea it was for them.
Having put their clothes back on and sorted themselves out, they found their way back onto the coastal path and tottered back towards Stoupa in a daze. When they eventually reached their apartment, they took it in turns to use the bathroom then went straight to bed without their customary goodnights to each other.
