suite, complete with bureau, sofa, mini kitchen, a walk-in wardrobe and separate dressing room. On the bedside tables were finger bowls filled with tiny, blooming jasmine flowers. Despite the room’s size, the bed dominated. The sheets were a rich cream, as were the pillowcases and the whisper of valance sheet, which exposed itself from underneath the coverlet.
The bathroom was ginormous. Along the left-hand wall was a whirlpool bath that looked as though it had risen up from a hot spring. Above the sink stood luxury toiletries in oversized bottles. At the far end of the bathroom was a double shower with glass doors. Even if one partner decided to take a bath rather than a shower it meant you were still situated within clear erotic sight of one another. No obstructions.
I went out to the balcony. It was incredible how the infinity pool morphed into the Aegean sea, a sublime aqueous illusion.
‘Christos,’ I called out. ‘Let’s swim.’
‘Do you like my new bikini?’ After some deliberation, I had opted for turquoise plunging cups held together with a bow that would not actually come undone, and skimpy briefs.
‘
Very
much! The Master approves! Positively neo-classical.’
Christos was arranging our towels over the choicest poolside chairs. We had the entire place to ourselves.
A waiter appeared and offered us drinks. ‘Mmm, I want a cocktail!’ The entrée in reception had given me a taste for it. ‘Can I have a bellini please?’
‘That’s so trashy, isn’t it,’ I giggled at Christos.
Christos laughed back and stroked my hair. ‘You can have whatever you want, high-maintenance Egg.’
‘I’ll have a mojito, please,’ he replied to the waiter.
Two minutes later and the drinks arrived. Christos laid back and sighed. For some reason, he had brought down to the pool a mammoth engineering textbook, preparatory reading for the PhD.
‘Christos
mou
, no, not that book, not today.’
‘
Signomi
, Nichi, I’m sorry,
kali
mou
, but I have to. There’s so little time now until I start. And once you go back I’ll be working in the garage again, then three weeks after that I’m back in London to begin my course.’
I turned my head towards the impassive sun, closed my eyes then reached down for my drink. This was such a treat, to be here with Christos. Nothing else mattered.
After fifteen minutes or so, Christos touched a hand on my thigh. ‘Nichi
mou
, you’re burning. Do you want me to put some more cream on you?’
‘No. Not yet. I’m going to swim.’
I got up and went towards the pool, keeping my sunglasses on. It was early afternoon and the sun was pouring scornful blaze on my white skin. I lowered myself into the water, quickly ducked under. I didn’t usually enjoy swimming in pool water in Greece, not when the Mediterranean sea itself was so idyllic. But this was special. Right up until you bumped into the infinity pool’s brim, the illusion of being able to float straight out from pool to sea persisted. I wished I could skim out over the sand and glide into it.
Suddenly something shivered up along it. I let out a scream. It was Christos, shimmying his hands up along it.
‘Christos, DON’T. I thought it was an
octopodia
!’ Ever since Christos had described how you catch an octopus, plunging your hand into its mouth and turning it inside out, bashing it to tenderising death on a rock, how sometimes if you weren’t quick enough it would wrap its desperate tentacles around your forearms and wrists, I had an almost monomaniacal fear of meeting one in the water. I knew they had to be dragged out of their holes, but still.
Christos laughed and laughed, then started to coo at me, kissing my cheek in comfort when he saw I was actually distressed. ‘Nichi
mou
,’ he pulled me towards him, ‘no octopodia is going to get you while I’m around.’
‘But what if one day I meet one alone? It’s not impossible that it could have got into the swimming pool.’
‘It’s pretty
The bathroom was ginormous. Along the left-hand wall was a whirlpool bath that looked as though it had risen up from a hot spring. Above the sink stood luxury toiletries in oversized bottles. At the far end of the bathroom was a double shower with glass doors. Even if one partner decided to take a bath rather than a shower it meant you were still situated within clear erotic sight of one another. No obstructions.
I went out to the balcony. It was incredible how the infinity pool morphed into the Aegean sea, a sublime aqueous illusion.
‘Christos,’ I called out. ‘Let’s swim.’
‘Do you like my new bikini?’ After some deliberation, I had opted for turquoise plunging cups held together with a bow that would not actually come undone, and skimpy briefs.
‘
Very
much! The Master approves! Positively neo-classical.’
Christos was arranging our towels over the choicest poolside chairs. We had the entire place to ourselves.
A waiter appeared and offered us drinks. ‘Mmm, I want a cocktail!’ The entrée in reception had given me a taste for it. ‘Can I have a bellini please?’
‘That’s so trashy, isn’t it,’ I giggled at Christos.
Christos laughed back and stroked my hair. ‘You can have whatever you want, high-maintenance Egg.’
‘I’ll have a mojito, please,’ he replied to the waiter.
Two minutes later and the drinks arrived. Christos laid back and sighed. For some reason, he had brought down to the pool a mammoth engineering textbook, preparatory reading for the PhD.
‘Christos
mou
, no, not that book, not today.’
‘
Signomi
, Nichi, I’m sorry,
kali
mou
, but I have to. There’s so little time now until I start. And once you go back I’ll be working in the garage again, then three weeks after that I’m back in London to begin my course.’
I turned my head towards the impassive sun, closed my eyes then reached down for my drink. This was such a treat, to be here with Christos. Nothing else mattered.
After fifteen minutes or so, Christos touched a hand on my thigh. ‘Nichi
mou
, you’re burning. Do you want me to put some more cream on you?’
‘No. Not yet. I’m going to swim.’
I got up and went towards the pool, keeping my sunglasses on. It was early afternoon and the sun was pouring scornful blaze on my white skin. I lowered myself into the water, quickly ducked under. I didn’t usually enjoy swimming in pool water in Greece, not when the Mediterranean sea itself was so idyllic. But this was special. Right up until you bumped into the infinity pool’s brim, the illusion of being able to float straight out from pool to sea persisted. I wished I could skim out over the sand and glide into it.
Suddenly something shivered up along it. I let out a scream. It was Christos, shimmying his hands up along it.
‘Christos, DON’T. I thought it was an
octopodia
!’ Ever since Christos had described how you catch an octopus, plunging your hand into its mouth and turning it inside out, bashing it to tenderising death on a rock, how sometimes if you weren’t quick enough it would wrap its desperate tentacles around your forearms and wrists, I had an almost monomaniacal fear of meeting one in the water. I knew they had to be dragged out of their holes, but still.
Christos laughed and laughed, then started to coo at me, kissing my cheek in comfort when he saw I was actually distressed. ‘Nichi
mou
,’ he pulled me towards him, ‘no octopodia is going to get you while I’m around.’
‘But what if one day I meet one alone? It’s not impossible that it could have got into the swimming pool.’
‘It’s pretty
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