So Daisy wondered if she was just being silly and immature and perhaps that had put Steve off - after all, he was twenty-four now and clearly a man of the world.
Daisy, although extremely well travelled, had very little experience of boys - all her time in Africa with her God Squad parents had taught her very little about the ‘real world’ and everything she knew about sex had been gleaned from various books - although the prim and proper courtships that Jane Austen wrote about were hardly relevant to the meat market that was Magaluf.
Daisy’s most serious relationship was with Frazer and that was way back when she was at school - and kissing with tongues was as far as that went. Since then she had kissed other boys, of course, and many seemed to ‘like’ her, but she had not felt sufficiently confident with them to take it any further. It’s also fair to say, that she never really fancied any of them that much.
But she fancied Steve Cool a lot and always had.
In fact now, she far more than just ‘fancied him’; she was totally, utterly and properly smitten with him. It hurt in the pit of her stomach when she thought about him, particularly now, having not seen him for several days. It was terrible, it felt like her world had caved in - it was so silly as they had only been on a couple of proper dates.
Maybe her feelings were so strong because she had longed to be his girlfriend when they were younger. Perhaps, more recently, it was because she had been so flattered when he actively pursued her, which more than made up for his cruel treatment of her when they were at school and made her feel so special, so desirable - so beautiful.
Indeed, since saying ‘yes’ they had been getting on so well. She thought he really liked her and she definitely liked him - maybe even more than liked but Daisy dare not so much as contemplate the ‘L’ word just yet - but she suspected that was the truth of it.
She vowed to herself that if she did go out with Steve again then she wouldn’t be so silly, so naive. She was a big girl now and it was only sex after all.
At least that’s what she tried to convince herself.
Nonetheless, all of this did not alter the fact that she had not seen hide nor hair of him in almost six days and she was at her wits end over it.
And then, magically, he appeared at the beach bar at lunchtime on the seventh day (it was almost biblical - ‘And on the seventh day, God created man’ - and as he stood there at the bar, all glistening tan and flicked back hair, she couldn’t help but think, God, what a man!).
Steve was charm personified and full of apologies, saying that the Dirty Duck had been forcing him to work double shifts in order to drum up business.
Daisy, couldn’t have cared less - all that mattered was that he had come back and her heart was doing somersaults of delight.
However, in explaining where he had been, Daisy couldn’t help but notice Steve casually dropping the names of a couple of girls in. Tricia and Mandy, who were just work mates apparently, but Daisy felt a little prickle of jealousy as he told her what fun they were.
Had he mentioned them on purpose, she wondered, just to let her know that other girls were available to him at any time and that if she didn’t ‘put out’ then he had plenty of other options?
Surely not.
That was just her jealous conscience speaking and she dismissed it almost instantly.
Besides now, if the opportunity arose again, Daisy fully intended to ‘put out’. She had given herself a stiff talking to, telling herself to ‘grow up’ and ‘stop being such a baby about it.’
As Loz had told her, “It’s only a bloody willy, chick, it ain’t gonna kill ya!”
She certainly hoped not.
As it was, Steve did ask her out again that night and Daisy prepared herself appropriately for what, she hoped, was gong to be a momentous occasion.
She showered twice, shaving her stubbly pits and pubes so that everything down below was as neat and tidy as possible, before slipping into a pretty set of matching lacy underwear and dousing herself in Opium (the perfume, not the narcotic), which she had bought on the flight from Bangkok.
She wore a simple vest top and a little ra-ra skirt Loz had leant her - “Guaranteed to get you laid, this is chick,” she had promised, rather unhelpfully as Daisy was already worried enough about how events might proceed.
Nevertheless, Steve picked her up at eight o’clock - this time in a borrowed black Fiat Panda which, apparently, belonged to ‘a mate.’
Again he took her out into the country to the same restaurant as before. Once more he was very attentive, very complimentary and kept telling her how beautiful she was. “I love those long legs of yours in that little skirt,” he said seductively. Maybe Loz was right.
Steve also plied her with vodka which loosened her up somewhat and helped relieve her anxieties about what might happen next.
After they had eaten and drunk some more, the owner came over and presented Steve with the bill, giving him an almost imperceptible wink as he did so. Daisy was not supposed to notice but she did.
Was she missing something? The pair of them clearly knew each other quite well so perhaps the owner was just being friendly.
Afterwards, Steve and Daisy strolled hand in hand to the stone bench, as they had on their last date. She was feeling really quite tipsy now, having drunk far too much at dinner, but it gave her some much needed Dutch courage as they sat down and started snogging.
Immediately Steve’s hand was on her boob (over her vest top). ‘It’s okay, it’s fine, I can do this,’ Daisy told herself. Then, as things got more heated, Steve slipped his hand underneath her top and up under her new lacy bra, taking a firm handful of her boob. Daisy stiffened and almost stopped breathing when he squeezed her nipple, but, as his tongue probed her mouth, she surrendered herself fully, deciding that she didn’t want him to stop. Ever.
For a long time they kissed whilst Steve amused himself with her breasts, rummaging around inside her bra to his heart’s content but Daisy was completely lost in him. The drink, the moonlight, the smell of his Blue Stratos and his perfect, plump lips as they worked their magic on hers. She was in seventh heaven.
Then, quite suddenly, Steve stopped and stood up, his enjoyment clear to see in his khaki shorts. “Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand, “I know a place we can go.”
Daisy didn’t question him, by now she would have followed him to the ends of the earth.
Still holding firmly onto her hand, Steve led her back to the restaurant, but rather than go inside, he guided her to some stone steps at the side which ran up to a door on the first floor. Again, keeping hold of her hand, he led her up the steps and opened the wooden door to reveal a dimly lit room with a bed in the centre. It was a little ramshackle but quaint in it’s own way and when Steve lit the candles which ‘just happened’ to be located at strategic points around the room, it looked incredibly romantic.
The restaurant owner’s little wink now made sense. Clearly Steve brought all of his conquests here in a convenient arrangement between the two of them. What was the going rate for sordid little love nests? Daisy briefly wondered.
But, at that precise moment, she could not have cared less.
She wanted Steve so badly that she would have happily made do with the back of the Panda - although, in reality, she had hoped her first time might be a bit more special than a fumble on the stained back seat of a second hand banger.
And the candlelit room fitted her ideal of ‘special’ absolutely perfectly - with the cherry on the cake being Steve Cool who stood at it’s centre, beckoning her to him. God, he was handsome.
Daisy had built herself up for this very moment, primed herself and now, aside from a bit of nervous anticipation, she felt excited and as ready as she ever would be for what was about to happen.
Again Steve took Daisy’s hand. Then slowly, led her over to the bed.
“You’re
bloody sexy, Daisy Flynn,” he whispered, “you know that don’t you?”
She didn’t, but on this night as Steve kissed her gently, before smoothly slipping her vest top off over her long, auburn hair, she might just be persuaded to believe it.
***
Precisely one hour and twenty-three minutes later, Daisy and Steve were back in the Fiat Panda heading towards Lloret de Mar once more.
So much for romance. So much for ‘special’.
Daisy had nothing with which to compare her first experience of sex but it seemed to her that it should possibly last a bit longer. Surely, too, it was about joint satisfaction whereas Steve appeared to be only interested in what he got out of it.
It was, however, enjoyable enough as experiences went, but there were no fireworks, no sparks and the earth most definitely did not shake.
That couldn’t be right, could it?
Daisy assumed that it was her fault; her inexperience and lack of technique must have put Steve off. She assumed he must be an expert lover but had obviously not been able to get into his stride properly with her. Surely that was what it was.
Yet he didn’t seem to give her much of a chance and it was all a bit ‘wham-bam thank you ma’am.’ Indeed, Daisy had barely got going before Steve was pulling his shorts back up and looking around for the car keys.
Nonetheless, regardless of how the evening finished, she was still smitten by Steve Cool, even though her shining image of him had tarnished a little in the last hour.
But it would be better next time, Daisy was sure of it.
***
Steve dropped Daisy off again at the little apartment a short time later.
“Thanks for nice time,” she said.
“Hey, no. Thank you.”
“Will I see you soon?”
“Yeah sure. Not this weekend though - me and some of the crew from the Dirty Duck are heading to Majorca for a couple of nights,” Steve said. Then he thought for a moment and added, “Hey, why don’t you come, it’ll be a laugh.”
Daisy was thrilled but she said, “Don’t you mind? I mean won’t it be just you and your mates? I’m not sure I should come on my own with a load of boys.”
“No,” Steve replied. “There’ll be loads of us - guys and girls - Tricia and Mandy are coming - you could even bring that bird who you work with, what’s her name - Loz, if you fancy it. We’ll have a scream, Magaluf’s supposed to be great.”
Daisy knew that if she and Loz begged their work mates they would cover their shifts for them at the bar so, partly because she really wanted to go, but also partly because she couldn’t bear to think of Steve spending the whole weekend with Tricia and Mandy - and partly, too, because she could take Loz with her, Daisy said, “Great, okay then - yes, I’d love too!”
“Cool. It’s an early start though, so pick you up tomorrow, about eight, okay?”
“Sure, that’s fine. Where will we be sleeping?”
“Mate of mine’s got part shares in an apartment block there,” Steve said, “It’s not open to the public yet so he’s letting a bunch of us crash there for a couple of nights. Should be cool.” Then he added in a wolfish tone, “Don’t bother bringing your nightie though - you won’t need it,”
Daisy smiled, then kissed him. “No,” she said, in her best sexy voice, “I hope I won’t.”
They kissed for a long time in her doorway until, at last, Steve got into the Panda and drove away.
Suddenly Daisy felt pumped up with excitement. She and Steve were going away together for two nights - plenty of time in which to practice her technique.
She couldn’t wait. Because tomorrow night she was going to be in Magaluf.
Chapter Eighteen
Strangely, for all her travelling, the trip from Lloret de Mar to Magaluf was the first time Daisy had been on a proper boat in her whole life (aside from a paralytic paddle around the playas in a pedalo with her pals and an ill-conceived cruise around the Bradley Boating Lake with her dad when she was just a girl, to the accompaniment of Lynn Flynn hollering several out-of-tune verses of ‘Michael Row The Boat Ashore’, from the jetty that was adjacent to the ticket office, much to Daisy’s complete mortification - although she wasn’t sure either of those really counted).
As it turned out, Daisy soon discovered that she wasn’t a natural born sailor and spent much of the short voyage with her head hanging over the rail throwing up all the food and drink she had consumed the night before - and possibly most of what she had eaten in the week prior to that.
Whatismore, ‘The Jolly Rogerer’ was an aptly named, pirate-themed party boat, so whilst she was desperate for this joyless junket to be over and feel the security of dry land under her feet once more, everybody else was having a whale of a time. The booze was flowing and the music was blaring, with Steve Cool, Loz, Tricia and Mandy (who actually seemed like very nice girls) getting down to the likes of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, Like A Virgin and Who’s Zoomin’ Who? - which, onboard The Jolly Rogerer, was a very good question indeed as tipsy, topless girls were getting very heavy with teams of toned, tanned boys all over the boat. Hot, sweaty bodies were dry-humping each other like dogs on heat, all lusty, liquored up and looking for fun - no strings attached.
Loz, of course, party animal that she was, was right in the heart of it, grinding and gyrating up against anything in shorts, completely out of her tiny tree, even though it was only ten in the morning. So much for bringing her along for moral support.
Whilst Steve who had only shown mild concern at Daisy’s malady, was busy circulating and working the crowd - who clearly considered him to be the greatest thing since sliced bread (as did he).
Apart from being sick every five minutes, the boat trip itself was everything Daisy hated. The nightlife of Lloret had been hard enough to come to terms with but this was just hell. She was so far out of her comfort zone that she might well have been on the moon. The lure of Steve and the opportunity to spend two whole nights with him had blinded her to what the trip itself might actually entail.
In her mind she had pictured, candles, silk sheets and rose petals but the reality was about as far away from that as humanly possible - much more about pirate ships, piss-heads and puke.
Worse still, Daisy felt like a prude and a square and hated herself for it.
Daisy knew she was cramping Steve’s style and this just made matters worse. Why couldn’t she just be normal instead of acting like a complete bloody party-pooper?
She’d felt ill at ease even before the boat cast off and had genuinely attempted to loosen up but it had proved impossible.
Then, as the boat got underway, it started pitching and rolling, and so did Daisy’s stomach. No matter how much she tried, she just couldn’t make sea-sickness look sexy and Steve soon abandoned her to soak up the adulation of his ship mates.
Surprisingly, only Mandy and Tricia seemed concerned for her and spent much of the journey rubbing her back and holding her hair which was extremely nice of them considering she didn’t know them from Adam and had been unreasonably jealous of them prior to going on the trip. Strangely however, even though nothing was said, Daisy got the distinct impression that they weren’t so enamoured with Steve as he apparently was with them, but she couldn’t quite fathom why.
Nonetheless, the boat duly arrived in Magaluf shortly after lunch, with most of it’s pissed up pirate passengers poised to persist with the party.
Daisy felt much better once she was back on dry land but by this time she was already way behind everyone else in the amount of alcohol consumed.
Steve seemed to have all but forgotten her, aside from a cursory “C’mon, Daze - hurry up!” as he, Loz and everybody else staggered down the gang plank of The Jolly Rogerer and onto the quayside of it’s sister bar, The Jolly Rogerer Pirate Pub which had a big skull and crossbones flag flying on the roof above.
However, after a morning spent retching over the rail of a pirate ship, Daisy badly needed to freshen up - she needed to wash her face and brush her teeth - preferably take a shower - otherwise she wouldn’t smell too good for Steve later when they got back to the apartments and the whole night alone together that she so romantically anticipated.
As it turned out, Mandy and Tricia had keys to the apartments, too, as well as Steve - the owner being a friend of all of theirs - and the girls were also keen to freshen up, so said Daisy was welcome to go with them if she wanted to.
Quickly she cleared this with Steve, anxious for him not to think she was abandoning him - yet she need not have worried as he was engrossed in some drinking game with Loz and several others and seemed to barely even notice her existence. “Yeah, sure. No problem - see you later,” he said absently.
Feeling as if she had let him down, Daisy considered staying after having made such a hash of things on the boat trip - her sea-sickness preventing her from spending any real time with Steve at all. But after weighing things up she decided that he would undoubtedly prefer her with freshly brushed teeth, so left him in the bar with Loz and the gang and went off with her two new girlfriends.
It soon transpired that Mandy and Tricia were actually girlfriends not just girl friends - and were keen for a bit of ‘alone time’ at the apartments without everyone else there, so Daisy was grateful that they had generously allowed her to tag along.
They arrived at the apartment block which was only a short distance from the main drag.
It was quite an impressive Spanish style building, of maybe ten or so apartments, that would obviously be quite plush when completely finished. It also had a clear, unobstructed view of the sea which, Daisy suspected, would be charged at a premium when eventually available to holiday makers.
Jam Tops, the Fonz and the Pursuit of Cool Page 22
