Chapter 8
Crystal, Mariana thought, might be very beautiful, but she also had a large behind. When she stood up straight it wasn’t so noticeable and matched her generous breasts, but when she bent over it seemed to spread. Or smile, thought Mariana smugly; her crack is smiling above a bushy black beard. As if it were made to complement a very large behind, Crystal had a lot of pubic hair.
They were in the women’s changing room at the country club and Crystal was pushing her towel in and out of her toes.
Learning that the men had been talking about losing their virginity had rekindled old memories in Mariana, so naturally she was the one who set things going for the women. She did not, of course, tell them that the men had been discussing their sexual exploits in the changing room. Such information was sacrosanct. They would want to know how she had found out, and that was something she could not divulge. Her relationship with her husband was a private matter, so she steered the conversation in the right direction.
‘Sex,’ she stated firmly, ‘is a very funny thing. You can give it away, and yet you still keep it. Except of course as regards virginity. Once that’s gone, it’s gone forever.’ Crystal straightened and laughed that loud, bell-like laugh that drew people to look and, once they had looked, admire. Crystal had tumbling black hair and bright blue eyes. Some Caribbean forebear had also blessed her with a skin colour that resembled dark honey but gleamed like satin.
She eyed Mariana over her shoulder. ‘Where there’s demand there’s always supply. Market forces, you could say.’
‘Not everyone gives it away. Aren’t you forgetting that some women charge for it?’ Josie was drying her hair, running her fingers through it with one hand and holding the hairdryer with the other.
‘True.’ Mariana looked at Josie and did her utmost not to appear entranced by her friend’s body.
Josie was standing naked, arms slightly raised, red hair tumbling before the warm breeze of the dryer. She was slim - almost boyish. And white, very white. Like the marble she sometimes worked with. In fact she could almost have been a statue herself stood there like that.
Josie did not appear to notice her interest. Behind the veil of red hair, she went right on talking. ‘But most people - even those “in the trade” give it away the very first time. Didn’t you?’
‘Didn’t we all!’ Crystal straightened, threw her towel to one side and began doing stretching exercises. Her breasts quivered and rose as she did them. Her buttocks clenched tightly together as though they were kissing each other.
It’s still big, thought Mariana before resuming. ‘Well I most certainly did. I remember it well.’ Mariana wrapped herself in towels, sat down on a bench and drew her legs up under her. ‘He was older than me but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, is it? At least he knew the ropes.’
‘How much older?’ asked Josie who had finished drying her hair and was getting her clothes out of her locker. She was still naked and Mariana noticed, as she had many times before, that Josie’s pubic hair was as red as that on her head. Josie, she thought, is as much like some of her paintings as she is her statues. Dramatically romantic - other worldly.
‘He was about thirty-five and I was sixteen. I remember his eyes being very dark - darker than yours Crystal. But then he would be. He was Turkish and he made me think of harems and the Arabian Nights. All those sort of things.’
‘Was he a sheik?’ It was Crystal who asked. She was lounging naked on a bench, one breast nestling in one hand, one nipple between forefinger and thumb. She was frowning at it. As though, thought Mariana, she is checking it for flaws.
It was Josie who answered. ‘Turks don’t have sheiks.
They used to have caliphs, but now they only have tour guides who show you around for a minimal fee and tell you they’re only doing it to improve their English. Then they tell you that they’ve fallen in love with you and what chance is there of sleeping with you tonight.’
‘True,’ laughed Crystal and her hair floated around her shoulders as she nodded her head.
Aware that she could lose control of this conversation, Mariana stepped quickly back into her story. ‘He was a banker. My father was sent to Turkey on a three-year contract by the bank he worked for. Ahmed was his Turkish counterpart. The first time I saw him was at my parents’ home. They were having a dinner party for about twenty or so people. I stayed in my room and tried to study, but it was difficult. I could hear them all talking downstairs - but only indistinctly of course. I remember hearing a door close and footsteps, very stealthy footsteps, outside.
‘My room had a balcony that was absolutely stuffed with terracotta pots full of an amazing assortment of flowers. I remember the smell of it all. Down below was a garden. Full of roses, if I remember rightly.’
She took a deep sniff and half closed her eyes. ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can still smell it now.
‘I heard voices, protests, then moans. I turned off the light and quietly made my way out onto the balcony.
‘The moon was full. Its light sprinkled the garden with a shower of silver rain.
‘Immediately below the overhang of my balcony was a small circle of dark red tiles. It was completely surrounded by bushes, flowers and small, sweetly scented trees. It was the area where my mother read in the afternoons. By day, thanks to my balcony, it was very shady. By night each detail seemed more stark, more precise in the light of the low-hanging moon.
‘I remember covering my mouth with my hand when I saw what was happening below. I could see two people. One was lying out on the sun lounger where my mother usually read Graham Greene or Hemingway. Now it was being used for something entirely different.
‘I remember him standing over the woman. I remember him lifting her dress. I could see the whiteness of her thighs,’ the strip of white suspender holding up each stocking. I could also see what was between her legs.
‘I heard her speak. Her voice was muffled, yet I could still make out the words. “Look, my love,” she said. “Look. I’m not wearing any underwear. I’m ready for you, for you and you alone.”
‘She held out her arms to him. He stood over her. Nothing moved except his fingers which tangled in her pubic hair. Her legs seemed to fall apart as if they were melting away from a great heat. I heard her groan as he pushed his finger between her furry lips. I heard her gasp, then a squelching sound. I presumed his finger had entered her.
‘The woman began to beg him to put it into her. I heard her using words that I had understood to be vulgar. I sank down to my knees, my eyes wide with interest. This, I knew, as making love. But I was very confused. Where was the romance between this man and this woman? Where were the words of love that I had been taught to expect when people were as intimate as this?
‘Accompanied by the downward swipe of his zip, the woman began to throw her head from side to side, bent her knees, and opened her legs so wide that her feet were on the floor to either side of her.
‘Moonlight made the fairness of her pubic hair shine like a cluster of Christmas tinsel. I did not see this for long.
‘After sliding his trousers down to his knees, the man lay between her thighs, the rounded strength of his muscular bottom brown and hard against her whiteness, her softness. And then it began.
‘Again and again he rammed into her. His pace never altered. It was fierce, rapid, and made her wail long and low as if she had been pierced by a particularly sharp needle.
‘At last I saw his buttocks clench more tightly, her legs wrap protectively around him. The sound each of them made suddenly ran along the same track, heightened, then decreased steadily until fading to a mutual softness.
‘The light from the house caught his face. That’s when I recognised Ahmed. I could not see the woman’s features. ‘As they returned to the dinner party, I slunk back into my room.’
‘Was the woman his wife?’ It was Josie who asked. Mariana avoided her eyes, shook her head, and went straight back into her story.
‘The next time I saw him it was the fault of my mother.
He had offered to show us around Istanbul. It was an odd sort of outing. My father spent most of his time taking snapshots of my mother. He loved taking pictures of her. He had hundreds. Once or twice he took photographs that included me, but most of the time I was left in the safe hands of Ahmed, the man I had seen bending over a half naked woman.
‘He talked to me about the city, its history, its places of interest.
‘His eyes were very dark and I remember his mouth being very wide. He smiled at me a lot and laughed at my embarrassment when the light cotton shirt I was wearing got soaked as I walked past a fountain. The wind had caught the spray and sent it washing over me. I remember it clinging to my breasts. It was cold and made my nipples stand out. There was a different look in his eyes from then on. It intrigued me and I began to feel a strange excitement that I had not felt since I saw him in the garden. This time, of course, because he was near to me, my excitement was far more intense.
‘He watched me closely. I could see the look in his eyes that posed a question. Why were my nipples so obvious, why were my breasts so enticing? Oh yes, I could see it there. I can still see that look in his eyes even now.’
Mariana bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. She let out a long breath. Crystal and Josie were still and silent. Their eyes were fixed on her. She was safe. She could go on and tell her tale and they would hang onto every word she said as though it were certain truth.
‘Ahmed had a yacht. He invited us onto it regularly and one day, when my parents were stretched out sunning themselves on the deck, he took me swimming.
‘We got into a small motorboat and he drove us to a hidden cove where the water was very blue and clear. The cliffs enclosing it were a burning yellow and were dotted with clumps of green that reminded me of cabbages.
‘The water made a hushing sound against the shingle. I imagined it was telling me to be quiet; not to disturb the tranquillity of the place where only the waves and the seabirds made music.
‘I remember I wore a black bikini. You know how I love black. I loved it then as much as I do now. It’s the best colour possible for blondes.’
She tossed her head as if to emphasise the point, but not with any sign of vanity. Mariana was not a conceited woman.
‘What did he wear?’ Crystal purred her question and her eyes were half closed. She was stroking her body and obviously enjoying it. ‘Was he wearing anything at all, or was he showing you exactly what was on offer?’
Mariana blinked a few times before she answered. ‘No. He wasn’t naked. He wore green trunks with a black slash across the front. The black slash sparkled slightly from the water and the sun. It was hard not to look at it. Harder still not to gaze intently at the bulge behind it.
‘We lay down on the beach. He asked me if I wanted to get my back brown without a strap mark. I said I did, so he undid my bikini top for me.
‘He had brought lotion and warned me against burning my shoulders. His eyes never left me as he said it. I felt them wandering over me in the same way his hands would. ‘I knew what he was going to do even before he did it. I gasped slightly as the coldness of the cream was spread in slow, ever-increasing circles over my skin.
‘His hands were warm and his breath was quickening. It was very soothing - comforting. I felt his fingers leave my shoulders and run down my spine. Even though the sun was hot on my back, I shivered. But I was slightly afraid.
‘I was a child who had been brought up on romance, not sensuality. I was confused by what he was doing, but I was also helpless beneath his touch.
‘He asked me if I liked what he was doing to me. I told him I wasn’t sure. He called me a silly goose and kissed my back. I remember the feel of his lips upon my skin, the roughness around his chin, the silky softness of his moustache. I remember his chest hairs tickling the middle of my back. I remember a tightness in my stomach and a curling ticklishness between my legs.
‘Because his shadow fell over me and his body pressed on mine, I felt trapped by him. I closed my eyes and pretended to feel tired.
‘‘‘Rest awhile, little girl,” he said to me. “Rest awhile and dream, and I will soothe all your fears away.”
‘He lay next to me, one hand resting on my behind as if only carelessly placed there. Yet I knew it was not carelessness. It was a deliberate act. He was enjoying the feel of my buttocks. I was convinced he was hoping I would get used to his hand being upon me, the warmth of his fingers arousing my body just as the warmth of the sun was soothing it to sleep.
‘Warmth and the dreams of what might happen made me fall into a light doze. My mind entered that hazy area between full consciousness and deep sleep where all things happen and anything is possible. I was Alice wandering through my own Wonderland. Not the fairy-tale one with white rabbits and novelty playing cards, but one that burned brightly on the frontier between puberty and adulthood.
‘In my dreams the sun itself had sprouted hands and was trailing its warm fingers down my back. I murmured something wordless. So strong was the warmth of those fingers that they slid enticingly beneath the fabric of my bikini pants.
‘I liked the sun doing that. It made me wriggle my hips and moan in my sleep. It was only as I felt those fingers dividing one buttock from the other that I knew they belonged to my companion, Ahmed the banker, and-not to the sun.
‘Inexperience made me feel confused. What should I do in such a circumstance?
‘I decided to continue with my pretence of being asleep. Better that than show my ignorance. The vision of him in the garden pleasuring the woman was still in my mind. I recalled the whiteness of her limbs, the tension of the suspender that gripped both her flesh and her stocking. I also recalled the deep vee of golden fleece pointing between her thighs. It made my body burn with desire.
‘The subterfuge seemed to suit him well. Each time I jittered - as though I really were sleeping and still dreaming - his hand paused. And yet, I did not want it to pause.
‘I felt him ease my pants down over my bottom. The sun kissed my newly exposed flesh in the same friendly way as it would kiss twin melons growing from the same stalk. As I murmured some unintelligible utterings, my dark-eyed banker kissed one buttock then the other. He slid my pants down my legs. He did it very slowly, very gently. He left them loose around one ankle. My body was naked except for that forlorn piece of blackness around my ankle and the matching shred that divided my bare breasts from the gritty sand.
‘I did not move. I did not want him to know I was compliant with what he wanted of me. So, even as he eased my bra top downwards, I did not protest. I merely whimpered slightly as the sand reformed around my bosoms.
“‘You like that,” he whispered. “I can see you like the roughness of the sand against your pretty pink nipples. I can see you like the feel of the sun on your bottom too.”
‘He was right, but something inside me would not admit it - not even to myself.
‘His hand ran down my back in a soft, gentle sweep. It was the sort of touch you would use to soothe a young horse that is about to take a rider for the first time. It made me hot, but it also made me tremble.
‘Because there was a large hump of sand beneath my hips, my buttocks were raised slightly.
‘I heard him moan as he pushed my legs apart. Ignorant as I was, I did not know whether he was doing this because he liked what he was seeing or because he was experiencing pain. I only knew I liked the touch of his fingers skimming lightly across my flesh and dividing the lips of my sex.
‘I felt his tongue, warm as the sun, wet as the sea, run down the crease of my behind. Where his fingers had been, it too went. Soon I was cooing as he probed the lips of my sex. His fingers became wet with my juices.
“‘That’s it, little girl,” he said. “Enjoy what I am doing to you. Many other men will do this to you in the future. Some you will remember, most you will forget. But not me. You will never forget me because I was the first and took what no one else will ever take.
‘I didn’t know what he meant. As I said, my ideas of sexuality were based upon syrupy novels and films that were all chosen by my father. Right up until that moment, my father had treated me as a child and my mother, being pretty disinterested anyway, had gone along with him.
‘The sun was hot upon my body. At first I was grateful that Ahmed lay over me, his arms rigid, his shadow cool upon me. The coolness did not last. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and gritted my teeth so that I would not cry out. Something very hard and very hot was pushing its way into my body.
‘I surprised myself and him. Had my hips acquired a mind of their own?
‘Without any real effort I bent my knees, raised my buttocks, but still I did not open my eyes or make a sound. ‘Ahmed sighed with happiness. “That’s it, little girl. Push yourself onto me and I will open the gate to your perfumed garden.”
‘At first I felt the hot tip of his member prod at my moist, aching lips. They opened and let him in. Hard and alien as he was, the muscles of my vagina welcomed him, gripped him as if encouraging him onwards.
‘What tension I felt left me. He did not ram himself into me as he had the woman in the garden. Bit by bit, little by little, he eased himself gently and smoothly into my body. And I welcomed him, willed him to go further.
‘But I still had a hymen and he had not reached that yet. When he did, I felt a hot, searing pain. I cried out and took a deep breath which quickly became no more than a whimper.
‘His breath was hot and rapid against my fear. The consideration he had shown me gradually went. Now his thrusts were more urgent.
‘‘‘All of your life,” he said, “I will be the one man you will always - always - remember. I am the man who took your virginity.” And he was right.’
‘Wow!’ Crystal looked genuinely impressed. Confident as she was of her own sexuality, her own power to seduce, she now regarded Mariana with more respect than she had prior to the tale being told.
‘Did you ever see him again?’ asked Josie.
‘Yes. Many times.’ Mariana smiled. There was a look in her eyes that suggested there were other things she was remembering that she did not want to talk about. Before anyone could press her to disclose further details, she got ‘up, dropped her towels, and began to dress. ‘I’ll tell you another time. Bowls this evening.’
‘Lucky you!’
‘Not that kind, Crystal baby. We’re going to watch Jamie’s father play bowls - not play with balls, though I wouldn’t say no if someone offered.’
They laughed, gathered their belongings together, and left.
Josie joined Michael in the bar for a drink and a quick bar meal.
Mariana met up with Jamie and they made their way over to Redcatch Park where Alex, Jamie’s father, was playing for his company team on the silky green of the bowling club.