Chapter 29
DAY FIVE
CHLOE
I wake up the next morning on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in a light blanket, the sunlight streaming through the windows.
Jess is standing next to me, cradling a cup of coffee and my first thought is: shit, am I naked?
But I can’t be. I don’t think I actually took my clothes off last night.
I think I asked Ben about a sex swing, that started a whole line of inappropriate conversation, and then I gave him head.
Wait. We gave each other head. I blush as I remember.
He pulled my legs up to the sofa and leant around, pulling the fabric back from my shorts and licking me while he was still in my mouth.
Like a perfect sex pretzel. With Ben. Except where is Ben now?
The problem with having this many people in the villa and him being the host, is that we hardly get to debrief about the deeply erotic nature of the sex, and when we do, we have sex again.
Before now, I think I’d only ever sixty-nined someone at university when I was drunk.
Maybe it’s all the daytime drinking I’m doing.
It’s incredibly uncharacteristic for me to do something so sexually acrobatic.
And now he’s not here at all. Jess looks at me, smirking. There were noises, she must have heard.
‘Morning, sunshine,’ she says, putting a cup of coffee on the table in front of me.
‘Is my face still that yellow?’ I ask.
‘No, you’ve faded well. Must be your tan peeking through.’
Or my orgasm glow.
‘Good night?’ she asks innocently.
‘I watched a film,’ I say, unsure how to explain proceedings any differently to someone I’ve only known for four days.
‘With Ben?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We watched Toy Story 2.’
‘I do love a sequel,’ she says, still smirking.
‘Indeed.’
I sit up sleepily, grabbing my cup of coffee and trying to replay last night, looking up at the past site of the sex swing. I still don’t understand how that would work. I gaze up to the ceiling again, those hooks must have deep steel connections to take the collective weight.
‘Morning, honey!’
I smile as I see Miguel standing there wearing patterned neon shorts, a bandana and sunglasses on top of his head. I pull the blanket up to cover my modesty.
‘She is up so maybe we can get these shows on the road?’ he says.
I look at Jess curiously. She’s in denim shorts and a vest top, a basket bag at her feet.
‘Ben’s at the markets so apparently we’re going on a little trip,’ she explains. ‘Miguel’s treat after the beach rave.’
‘I promise this time that there will be no fighting, just sunshine and the vibes,’ he says, throwing his hands to the air.
Jess laughs at his enthusiasm. I saw Ben’s tablet yesterday. We’re off to the beach, aren’t we? I can do that. It might be a lovely way to see the coves of the island, get some vitamin D. It seems like a healthy and enjoyable summer activity.
‘But I can’t promise it won’t get a little filthy too,’ Miguel continues.
Or maybe not.
‘It is not far, ladies. Short hike, beach funand then we have lunch after. Yes?’
Today, Miguel is in charge of our expedition.
The sun is shining and it’s nice to explore the island, to see more of its rocky trails, to get a hit of cloudless sky.
This feels pure and good, except for Miguel’s mention of it being a bit filthy…
Yeah, been there, done that, got the T-shirt.
No. Maybe I’ll have a break from that with Ben not being here.
I tip my head to the sun, enjoying the view of the white, rocky cliffs and the promise of the sea beyond the pine trees.
I notice we are at the top of a bluff; a winding road leads down to a cove by the beach.
We’ve only been to a beach at night so far but what strikes me first is the colour of this cove in the sunshine.
I’ve seen beaches on postcards, in limited palettes, looking slightly too perfect, but this one is different: it’s wild and stunning in its imperfection.
The sea is a rich sapphire blue and there are rocky inlets, meaning nothing is straight: it meanders, it hides the pristine sand, the sheltering trees.
I pause for a moment to take it in before an arm weaves its way into mine.
‘You like?’ Miguel asks.
‘It’s magnificent,’ I say, holding him close.
‘It is my local. Come, we walk…’ The winding path from the car turns into a wooden boardwalk, the warm sand under the soles of my feet a pleasant surprise.
‘Ben tells me your news,’ Miguel says, still linking arms with me.
I eyeball him. There is a lot of news. I hope it’s not sex news.
‘About your job. I am sorry,’ he says, giving my arm a sympathetic squeeze. ‘You are such a nice girl. I see it. I hope it all works out.’
‘That’s kind of you, Miguel.’
‘Yes, I’ve been round blocks. I know the nice girls. You humour an old man in silly shorts. I see it in your smile, the way you talk to everyone and no judge in your eyes,’ he says affectionately. ‘But you need to relax. Today, you relax.’
I nod and smile, exhaling deeply as we reach the beach.
To be in the thick of it and close to the water feels like a dream.
I watch as Zara runs into the sea like a big frizzy-haired mermaid, screaming in wonder at the clarity of the ocean and shouting that she can see her toes beyond the blue.
Miguel walks on to find a place for us to stop.
I think I can see that little island I saw from the cliffs near the villa.
I inhale deeply. This is perfect. I turn to see Jess spinning with her phone to take a selfie, her hair flying through the breeze.
I love this complete freedom for her. Until she stops to look back at the video.
Her face freezes. She comes over to me and stands there, turning her back to the beach and looking out to the water.
‘Don’t move,’ she tells me.
I see some shock in her eyes. The only time I’ve seen that sort of shock so far on this holiday is from the Ibizan wildlife. What can you find on a beach? Crabs? ‘Is it a snake?’ I ask worriedly.
‘Of sorts,’ she says.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I reply. I can’t quite read her expression. She’s in shock but also laughing, biting her lip.
‘I’m going to tell you to turn around but you’ve got to do it really slowly, like casual, like hey, that’s not such a big thing.’
I do as I’m told, swivelling slowly. That’s the problem. That is quite a big thing. There are lots of big things, hanging out, proudly. I turn around again, looking out to the sea.
‘What is the collective noun we need here?’ I ask.
Jess can’t seem to talk. It’s almost like if she opens her mouth, she’ll scream or laugh and both would be mildly disrespectful. ‘It’s like a colony of… cock…’ She goes pink trying not to laugh. ‘It’s not just willies, there are boobs out there too. And lady parts. Chloe, is this a—’
‘Nudist beach?’ I say, finishing her sentence. A man runs past us, jogging no less, his gait and pace mean it swings like a fucking pendulum. Christ, he’ll have his own eye out.
‘Ladies, you like?’ Miguel asks. I scan down.
Oh my life, you’re naked too. He does a little shimmy that is completely unwarranted, his all-over tan tells me that he probably comes here a lot.
To be fair, we already know his predisposition for nudity but he’s not alone today.
Case in point, the man next to us. That is some downward dog, his bollocks clapping together in the ocean breeze like castanets.
‘Miguel…’ I say. ‘This is a nudist beach.’
‘Yes. Ben told me to take you to naturista beach,’ he says.
‘He did? Are you sure he didn’t mean “nature”, like trees and stuff?’ Jess asks, still facing the sea, looking towards the horizon. I notice Zara doing a weird, crab-like side-step to join us.
‘Ohhhh, this makes more sense,’ he says, wriggling his nose.
‘I am sorry. My English. It is not all nudist here. You know Spain, some have the clothes, some prefer not,’ he says, pointing to someone’s fully clothed grandma under a beach umbrella.
‘But maybe we join in, so we can all be free with our beautiful bodies.’ Miguel looks mildly disappointed that we respond with silence.
‘We can move to the other side, it’s not nudist the other side of the cliff, but here,’ he says, looking around, ‘this beach has the mud flats.’ He bends down and starts rubbing what looks like grey dirt into his arms, looking up to the cliff.
‘My Benji tells me he gives you spa day yesterday: this is natural spa. The dirt is very good – has minerals like copper and iron and you can exfoliate.’
We look at him as he proceeds to rub that stuff everywhere, making light circles on his buttocks.
I don’t think he’s completely insane, a couple nearby are doing the same, lying in it and doing an action like one would to create a snow angel.
But we all stand frozen on the spot, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
‘And of course, the best way for your body to absorb this is to take off all the clothes,’ Miguel says, going over to Zara and dotting clay on her nose.
Zara laughs. ‘Oh, Miguel. I can just about wear a bikini. No one needs to see me naked,’ she says.
‘But you say this like everyone is watching you,’ Miguel says. ‘I don’t come down here and think: I want to get my pene out to show the world. I get it out to be free, so he can feel the sun.’
Zara laughs heartily. ‘I’ve breastfed three kids. My tits are—’
‘I do not care. I am gay,’ Miguel replies.
Zara almost has no recourse for this. She laughs, shaking her head, and strips almost immediately, like she’s been dared. She skips into the mud flats and massages that stuff into her as though she’s applying some makeshift clothes.
Jess looks over at me, holding my hand firmly.
‘Not tempted?’ I ask Jess, smirking.
‘No,’ she says, tucking her vest top in.
‘Says she who was skinny-dipping in the pool a few days ago,’ I joke.
‘Hon, I had that crazy herbal alcohol stuff in my veins and it was literally me, Zara and Miguel. It’s different when it’s a lot of people, like in public,’ she says, her body tense all over.
‘Miguel does have a point though,’ I say.
‘Miguel also referred to his penis in the third person,’ Jess adds, relaxing for a moment to laugh.
‘There is something very cool about people being naked and not worrying about what anyone else thinks. No one’s looking, everyone’s just being themselves,’ I say.
A woman walks past, she’s slightly older, her skin tanned and crepey but she holds her head up high, a massive grin on her face.
‘Everyone’s different shapes and sizes, but they’ve got their stuff out and there’s no judgement, no one’s looking.
There’s a man over there barbecuing. That’s bloody brave.
’ We look over at the flames, the kebabs.
‘What’s the phrase, if you can’t beat ’em… ’ I say.
Jess raises her hand in the air. ‘Well, we’ve beaten people up already but I guess we can join ’em?’
‘I’ll stay clothed if you want to, no pressure,’ I tell Jess gently. ‘But you do have a killer rack. I’m very jealous of your boobs.’
‘I had twins; my boobs are mostly milk,’ Jess replies.
She looks around at the beach, full of real men and women sitting around: they aren’t models or figures of perfection.
Flesh and folds, blemishes and bumps are on display everywhere.
No one really gives a toss about what others think.
It’s very European but also probably the best way for anyone to live their life: free.
‘Let’s do this bit by bit,’ Jess says.
‘A fitting analogy,’ I reply. We strip off our cover-ups, shorts and T-shirts until we’re both in swimsuits.
Jess reaches for the clasp on hers. ‘After three, yeah?’ She takes a deep breath. ‘One… two… three…’
We both remove our swimwear, Jess closes her eyes for a while, standing there with her boobs out in the sun. She eventually opens one eye and looks around. No one’s looking, no one’s died at the shock, no one really cares. I’m naked, very naked.
‘What if the clay gets stuck up my noo-nah?’ Jess says.
‘Then we’ll jump in the sea and wash it out with a bit of seaweed,’ I say.
She laughs until we hear a loud scream. For some reason, I cover my muff at the sound. Zara comes running over, raising her knees high to get through the sand, covered in clay. ‘Shite. I’ve lost my wedding ring,’ she says breathily.
‘In the mud?’ I ask her.
‘Were you definitely wearing it?’ Jess asks.
We look over at Miguel who is already conducting a search by digging through the mud like a puppy.
‘I never take it off. I think I got overexcited when I was exfoliating. Shitty shit. I can’t lose that. Could you all—’
‘Help?’ I say, nodding.
Zara scans down quickly and laughs. We’re all naked.
I jog over, stumbling, falling to my knees.
Jess is in hysterics watching. I rake through the sand with my hands and try to stand up to steady myself.
It’s very slippery though. It’s like quicksand.
Please don’t be quicksand and swallow everything in its path.
I stumble again and land forcefully on my arse. But then I feel something. Oh.
‘Are you OK?’ Jess asks, laughing. ‘That was quite a landing.’
Crikey. ‘I think I found her ring,’ I say, my whole body tense.
‘That’s good?’
‘No. I think when I landed, it went up…’
I can see Jess trying to work out how I landed. It’s definitely not a nostril. Her eyes widen and she cups her clay-soaked hands to her mouth.
‘Which hole?’ she whispers, trying not to laugh.
‘JESS!’ I shriek. ‘No. It’s kind of wedged in between my butt cheeks.’
‘That’s better at least,’ she says. ‘Because I’ve only known you three days so I wasn’t ready to go ring-fishing in your vag.’ She’s on the verge of hysterics now, tears are forming in her eyes.
‘Just cover me…’ I say, my fingers reaching down to the mud and in between my legs.
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh. Don’t question how physics worked here.
I can see a man peering over until Jess provides cover, blocking his field of vision.
I wince as I pull it out, my teeth gritted, and I hold it up in the air, glistening in the sunlight.
‘YOU FOUND IT!’ I hear Zara shriek from ten paces away. She jogs over and grabs it, putting it right back on her finger.
‘I think it might need a wash,’ Jess says tentatively.
‘I’ll wash it off in the sea!’ Zara says, coming over to give her a messy hug. ‘I was so worried. I thought I’d lost it in a bush or something,’ she says.
And with that Jess puts her hands on my shoulders and absolutely loses it. I laugh with her. We fall into the mud and it covers every inch of us. Hair, tits, face and all. Everyone might be looking now but we honestly do not care.