Brief Encounters. Various
babysitting her sister’s kids, perhaps, or having run a marathon in aid of some children’s charity or other. But there was nothing. The sum total of her experience with kids was trying to avoid them on planes.
And she didn’t think that sharing that little fact would do her much good.
By the time they’d reached the beach, Kristen and Stuart were getting along just famously. He’d even told a couple of stories about his ex-wife that Vicky had never heard. Vicky couldn’t win: if she tried to steer the conversation away she’d look desperate, but letting them get on with it only made her feel like an outsider. The balance of power was shifting, and she didn’t like it.
At the restaurant on the harbour, Stuart only made her feel worse. ‘You’re a bit quiet, Vick?’
‘I don’t have kids,’ she said simply. ‘I can’t exactly relate to what you two are going through.’
‘I can’t imagine not having children.’ Kristen smiled at her, a look of pity in her soft blue eyes. ‘Life must feel so empty.’
It was the kind of comment that made Vicky want to slap her hard in the face. ‘I have my own business,’ she retorted.
‘So do I,’ Kristen countered with a sweet smile.
‘Why don’t we all try the grilled mixed seafood?’ Stuart suggested, sensing that perhaps all was not well. ‘And how about a bottle of white?’
‘It sounds perfect,’ Kristen said, before going on to talk about some of the other Greek islands she’d visited over the years, and other restaurants and meals.
‘It must be awful, having to go on holiday alone?’ Vicky asked.
‘Not really. I paint, you see, and so it gives me time to do that. I don’t get much time for it otherwise. And I love to read, which I can never do when the children are around. So I make the most of it and consider it a treat.’
‘Yes, but you’re relying on the company of strangers,’ Vicky said, emboldened by a couple of sips of wine. ‘And they might be obnoxious, or you might have nothing in common, or they might resent the intrusion.’
‘This calamari is delicious, have you tried some?’ Stuart popped a chunk of squid in Vicky’s mouth with a subtle glare.
‘You know, my son just loves squid. Isn’t it funny that a young boy would like something like that?’
With the practised skill of a politician, Kristen drew his attention away again, and they settled into another half-hour’s discussion about the various likes and dislikes of their children, leaving Vicky to wonder whether they shouldn’t have opted for that package to Rhodes instead.
‘She’s not joining us for supper.’ Vicky was doing her bra up in their room that evening. Start had finally torn himself away from Kristen, and Vicky had obliged him with a blowjob, rewarding him for his bad behaviour, she thought. The more he flirted with Kristen, the harder she’d have to work. That just didn’t seem right.
‘Look, she’s on her own, she’s just gone through a painful breakup and she’s missing her kids. Have some humanity.’
‘She’s after you! It’s perfectly clear she came for some holiday romance and she wants a shag. And you’re clearly the most eligible man around to fulfil her.’
‘Vick, I’m not going to shag her. Why would I, when I’ve got you, and these beautiful, gorgeous, succulent tits?’ He undid her bra again and slipped his hands under the cups to massage her breasts. ‘I’m just doing the right thing.’
Vicky groaned. How many times had she heard that? He’d been late for their first date, as he was helping Mrs Andrews retrieve her lost cat from up an oak tree, doing the right thing. He’d cancelled a cinema trip she’d really been looking forward to, because he was fixing Mrs Taylor’s loose kitchen tiles, doing the right thing. And he’d missed a weekend they’d planned altogether, because Mrs Grimshaw’s washing machine had flooded, damaging the downstairs loo just days before a big house party, and he’d sorted it, doing the right thing.
This was the trouble with being with someone decent and honourable, Vicky thought ruefully. They did the right thing, and you somehow got left behind in all the goodness.
As expected, Kristen joined them for supper. She’d made a big effort with her clothes and make-up, Vicky noticed, and had put an oleander sprig in her hair. If only she could just eat the thing and get food poisoning, she thought, as they ordered.
When the Greek dancing started up, Kristen was quick to drag Stuart onto the dance floor, and equally quick to lose her balance and fall into his arms. Vicky remained at the table, drinking sullenly. She was looking bad-tempered and unattractive, and she knew it. There had to be something she could do to counter the Swedish temptress, though she had no idea what it could be. How dare she flirt so obviously with her man? Vicky thundered to herself. How dare she make Vicky feel so inadequate and useless? She had to try to dominate the conversation herself, she decided, and to make Kristen feel that it was perfectly normal for her to be sharing her man’s attention with another woman.
Once they were back at the table, Vicky started asking Kristen about her jewellery, making it clear that she was in a position to sell some in her shop. As a potential client, she thought, she might just get some respect. She listened intently, the friendliest of smiles on her face, as Kristen told her about the semi-precious stones she liked to work with, in silver and brass, influenced by the old Inca styles she’d found so charming during a hiking trip to Machu Picchu.
Unhappily for Vicky, this only caught Stuart’s attention even more, as he’d always wanted to visit Peru, and the conversation slid inexorably back to the two of them, and he listened raptly to Kristen’s stories of early-morning treks along Inca trails, and a fascinating encounter with a herd of llamas.
‘Stuart, do you understand how hard this is for me?’ Vicky demanded once they were alone again in their room. She hated sounding needy, but felt the time had come to voice her fears.
‘I’m sorry, I just think she’s good company. And she’s leaving the day after tomorrow. Give her a break.’
‘And once she’s gone it’ll be just the two of us? Promise?’ She slumped down on the bed. ‘There’ll be no more waifs and strays for you to look after?’
‘I promise.’ And with that Stuart climbed on top of her and kissed her, before sliding down her body, removing her flimsy pieces of clothing as he did so, and kissing her even more deeply. And, as Vicky felt herself melt into his mouth, all her troubles began pouring away. Kristen would be gone soon. If she could just handle one more day without making a scene, things would return to normal. As Stuart slipped a finger inside her, she had no idea what was what any more, where his tongue was, which finger, or fingers, were inside her and which was brushing slightly against her arsehole, because the whole of her was flooded with sensations. Kristen was watching them again, she imagined, jealously wishing it was her pussy Stuart was eating, jealously longing to have his cock in her mouth, inside her pussy, in her arsehole. And the thought of Kristen pulling her bum cheeks apart for Stuart to slide inside was enough to make Vicky explode, and she came, suddenly and violently, thrusting against Stuart’s face and fingers, like waves crashing on a rock.
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