Meaningful, Meaningless Sex

I'd never felt comfortable about Jordan - but that was all it had been - a vague feeling. Now there was tangible proof that one person in our party was not quite who they wanted us to believe. I felt a little queasy, unsure what to make of it. He'd lied about his age - but did it really matter?

I was feeling nervous -- I needed to pee. I looked around for cover. Off to my left, there were some large rocks at the end of the beach - not ideal, but if I squatted down, I'd be well hidden. I walked across to the first - no, not big enough - I'd need to go further in. The second was fine. I squatted down and pulled by bikini briefs aside.

I'd finished and was about to get up when I heard voices approaching. A loud voice - definitely male - unmistakably Jordan's.

I crouched down lower, hoping my head was well hidden. I half-expected a stream of urine to start shooting across the top of the rock and over my head.

"Right let's get this over with," he said. "You got the cash?"

I heard the sound of a zip being opened and then the rustle of something being transferred between the two guys.

"Pleasure doin' business," Jordan said nonchalantly.

"Saw you gettin' on with that Lucy girl last night," he added. "You get anywhere after?"

"Frigid little bitch," the other guy muttered. It was Dave!

My stomach lurched.

"You didn't tap her last night?"

"Nah - didn't even give me a blowjob!" He sounded more than a little pissed off.

"You need to get her wasted - do what you like then," advised Jordan - doubtless speaking from years of experience.

"Tried that," Dave replied. "She hardly touches booze - four drinks last night - that's all she had."

There was a pause. I suspected looks were being exchanged.

"You got anything stronger?"

There was the sound of the zip being drawn down again.

"Slip that in 'er drink and she'll be putty in your hands."

I felt physically sick.

"Nuh, nuh, nuh," Jordan continued, as if snatching the packet away from Dave's grasp. "It's gonna cost ya."

"How much?" Rather too eager.

"Hundred fifty euros."

"Aw man - that's too much! No way - I can't pay that."

"One hundred and fifty euros to pop a tight li'l pussy?! You don't wanna pop her - plenty would. A nice virgin snatch - they'd pay ten times that - easy!"

What?!! How the hell did he know that? Ellie had told him I was a virgin!!

There was a silence, as if Dave was deliberating, weighing the price for my deflowering.

"Look if you're not interested, I'll do her myself. Wouldn't mind ploughing that tight little cunt!"

There was another pause.

"Hundred euros," Dave offered in desperation.

Jordan weighed up his options.

"Tell you what, help me get this weed on the boat and unloaded the other end and I'll do it for a hundred. Just for a mate."

"Deal!"

There was the sound of agreement and then silence. I listened, straining to hear the receding footsteps, scarcely daring to breathe. I'd just heard two men plotting to rape me, fixing the price for virginity. But somehow that wasn't the worst part - that was Ellie's betrayal.

I needed to get away from those who wanted to harm me. I had to go straight to a police station, then get home as soon as I could. This holiday was a disaster - I needed to be on a flight out tonight. I wasn't safe.

But how could I get off the beach? My only way back was in Jordan's boat - it was far too far to swim. I took my phone out my pocket - there was no signal down here beneath the cliffs - no way of summoning help. There was no alternative. I'd have to make a run for it as soon as we docked.

I waited a minute or two, then peeked over the rock. Dave and Jordan had disappeared - it was just Mike, Ellie and Bethany playing ball. Darren and Courtney were nowhere to be seen - were they back on the boat maybe?

I walked back along to the place where we'd left our bags, scanning the cliffs to see if there was any sort of a path - but there was none. It was a sheer drop down - attempting to climb would be suicidal.

The three volleyball players were getting bored. I saw Mike whisper something in Bethany's ear. She giggled and reached out to grab his hand, but he slipped past her and planted a large slap on her butt. She shrieked with delight and the two of them ran off towards the rocks where I'd been earlier. No prizes for guessing what they were up to.

Ellie flopped down on the sand next to me.

"That was fun - hot though, I'm knackered."

I turned to look at her, but said nothing. I was almost shaking with fury, ready to deliver a broadside against her, to demand to know why she'd revealed my most intimate secret, to accuse her of the greatest betrayal.

But something held me back. I needed to get away from Jordan, Dave - all of them as soon as possible. If I could do that with her help, so much the better - there'd be time for recrimination later. She'd blurted something out she shouldn't have - that was nothing new in the world of schoolgirl gossip - especially from her. And maybe Ellie was also a victim, flattered into supporting her man by the attention he gave her. Now it was time to make the scales to fall from her eyes.

"What do you know about Jordan?" I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Ellie rolled her eyes.

"Really Lucy, really? Not this again?" she despaired.

"You know his name's not Jordan?" I asked.

There was the slightest flicker of hesitation.

"What do you mean his name's not Jordan?" she asked, irritated, creasing her brow in an exaggerated way, preparing to dismiss me.

"His name's Gavin," I said. "Gavin Andrew Henlow."

Ellie shook her head, now annoyed, forehead creased more than ever.

"Oh leave it Lucy," she hissed. "Honestly! What is your problem? You've been trying to do him down all week. He uses a nickname - so what? Everyone calls me Ellie, but my real name's Eleanor. Big deal! What is your fucking problem? Why do you even care?"

I was nervous now, feeling the pressure.

"And you know he's not 21," I said as calmly as I could. "He's 28. He'll be 29 next month."

There was a pause. The colour was beginning to drain from her face.

She shook her head.

"No, he's not - he's 21," she insisted. Her words carried no conviction. "I mean, how would you even know that?" she demanded.

I unlocked my phone.

"I found his driving licence," I said quietly. "It's here in his wallet, in his coat. Look."

I handed her my phone.

Ellie squinted at the screen, using her fingers to enlarge Jordan's photo and then his name and date of birth.

I looked up. Three figures were appearing from the side of the cliff - Jordan, Darren and Dave. There looked like there was a concealed opening - a cave - so well hidden I hadn't spotted it before - even from the boat. I squinted against the bright sunlight. Each was carrying an object, like a box - something vaguely rectangular or square looking. They were moving quickly and furtively down the beach to the waterline. My heart skipped a beat. The colour and the pattern were unmistakeable - Jordan had Ellie's suitcase! What the hell? I looked at the other two bags. Dave's was black - it could have been mine, but at this distance it was difficult to tell. I had a fair idea who the other one might belong to.

"Ellie," I asked slowly. "Did you give Jordan your room key this morning?"

She looked up at me sharply. "Er, yeah," she said. "I met him in the lobby - while you were buying the water. Said he'd left something in there last night."

The three men had reached the water line and were wading towards the boat, bags held high.

"Don't stare," I said quietly, "just have a quick look. Is that your suitcase Jordan's got on his head?"

She turned her head as casually as she could, then looked straight back at me.

I could see the fear in her eyes.

She nodded, unable to speak.

"I've got a good idea what's in those bags - and I think you do too," I said.

Another nod. Silence.

We pretended to look at my phone, but made furtive glances towards the boat. We could see Jordan unlocking the padlocked door and slinging the suitcases into the forward cabin.

"We can't get caught up in this," I said firmly. "We need to get away. As soon as the boat docks, we need to get back to the hotel, get our passports and get out."

Another nod.

Suddenly the thought hit me - Jordan might not have just taken the suitcases. We had about a thousand euros in cash between us. And all our travel documents were in the room too - there wasn't a safe. I'd done my best to hide my valuables, but I'd no idea what Ellie had done with hers.

I felt her reach for my hand.

"I'm scared Lucy," she whispered. "I'm scared."

"It's OK," I said, but I knew full well it wasn't. "They don't know we've rumbled them. We've got time. They'll need to offload - they'll be busy. They won't see us go."

Another nod.

"We need to keep our heads down, pretend everything's normal, and when we get our chance, we run."

Another squeeze of my hand.

"Thank you," she whispered.

-

Jordan was in a foul mood. The disposable barbecues wouldn't light. The spray that had washed over the boat on the journey down had filled two with sea water and the third wasn't much drier. The anaemic sausages sat on the grill and stubbornly refused to brown.

Ellie and I bit our tongues. There was nothing we could do to help and we'd both realised that a hungry Jordan was likely to take the boat back to the resort sooner rather than later. It was just a question of waiting and trying to stay calm - as unbearable as that was.

The group was getting more agitated now - voices were becoming raised - the alpha was coming out in each of the males. Jordan was pacing around, gesticulating wildly, blaming everyone but himself.

I was the first to scramble back onto the boat. I climbed the steps to the cockpit, heading for the foredeck. As I passed the steering position, something metal and shiny caught my eye. I peered closer. It was a key - a small key on a loop of dirty string, sitting in plain view on the captain's chair. The name of the brand matched the padlock on the door to the cabin beneath me.

Realisation dawned. I looked around furtively. No one was watching me - they were all too concerned with getting back onto the boat. I grabbed the loop of string in my fist, climbed down the ladder to the foredeck and made my way to the bow. I leaned over the side, pretending to look out to sea. I let my fingers open and the key dropped down into the water below. That would buy us a bit of time when we docked - the confusion would give us a chance to slip away.

Ellie came alongside me and grabbed my hand again.

"You OK?" I asked.

She nodded. She was white as a sheet.

"It won't be long now," I said, trying to reassure her. "We'll be back to the harbour in what, twenty minutes - we won't see them again after that."

There was an explosion of rage from the helmsman's position above us. Jordan was banging the controls in frustration. At first, I thought he'd realised the padlock key was missing, but that was the last thing on his mind.

The boat wouldn't start.

A firestorm of shouts and arguments raged above and behind us. Ellie and I huddled closer together, hoping they'd get it sorted and that we'd be underway.

More shouts, more banging. Someone had lifted the boards above the engine - they were clanking something metal - as if that was going to do anything.

Ellie was looking at her phone.

"You got reception?" I whispered.

She shook her head.

I'd been holding mine in my hand. I turned it over and unlocked the screen. To my surprise and relief, there was one bar of signal - I wouldn't get 4G, but at least I could make a phone call.

I glanced at Ellie and pressed my finger to my lips. I dialled the emergency number - 112. I put the phone to my ear, ducking down in front of my friend, so that her body hid what I was doing.

I heard two rings - a little crackly, but at least I had a connection.

A man's voice answered, firing a rapid stream of Spanish.

"Coastguard, coastguard," I said, as clearly as I could.

"Hold the line," he replied in perfect English.

There were a few more clicks and crackles, then I heard woman's voice, speaking again in Spanish.

"Do you speak English?" I asked.

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. Clearly the operator had dealt with too many British idiots today.

"Yes, this is the Coastguard, where is the emergency?" she asked tersely.

"Our boat has broken down," I explained. I gave her our approximate location.

"Are you drifting or anchored?"

"We're anchored," I replied.

"And you are how many?"

"There's eight of us."

"And no one is injured?" she asked. I could hear the irritation in her voice.

"No, we're all fine," I replied.

"Then you are not an emergency," she said flatly. "The Coastguard is too busy to deal with you. I will send a message to the local volunteers. One of them may come to assist."

There was a clunk and the line went dead.

Anger flared within me. Of course, it was an emergency - I was trapped on a boat with a stash of drugs in the cabin below me.

I needed the police.

I dialled again - 112.

An error flashed up on my phone. 'Network unavailable.'

I dialled again - 112.

Still nothing.

My heart sank lower than I ever felt possible; I buried my head in my hands. We despaired.

-

The next thirty minutes felt like an eternity. Desperately Ellie and I scanned the horizon, hoping for the help I knew would never come. We continuously woke our phones, but the connection was ever elusive. Behind me the shouts and arguments had quietened. They were debating now whether one of them could climb up the cliffs to summon help. I turned and glanced back at the helm. Jordan was sitting on the Captain's chair, fist in his mouth - powerless for the first time in his life. Wisecracks and bullying couldn't help him here.

A shout went up. "A boat, look a boat!"

Our vessel lurched as everyone ran to the side.

Sure enough, rounding the headland was a small, red motorboat. There was just one person aboard, sitting at the stern, steering a course towards us. I gasped. Even from this distance that silhouette was unmistakeable. I blinked. No, it wasn't him - surely not. But it was! It was!

"Nicolás, Nicolás!" I called, jumping up and waving at him frantically.

Ellie stared at me in amazement.

"You know him?"

"Yeah, he's Nicolás," I replied. "He's the guy from the farm - I met him on the cliff top, the day before yesterday."

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting shout behind us.

"WHO IS THAT? WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!!" Jordan was standing, stock still, his face white as a sheet. "WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?" This wasn't his usual boorish bellowing - no this was different. The whites of his eyes said it all. This was terror!

I looked back towards Nicolás. He stopped his boat about 25 metres from us. I waved again - but no reaction - he obviously hadn't noticed me. Why wasn't he coming closer? Why wouldn't he acknowledge me? I was beginning to feel a little hurt, a little worried. I needed him to rescue us.

I watched him scan our boat. He reached down and took something out of the locker by his feet. He turned, as if to hide what he was doing. I saw him pick up a black, rectangular object and bring it to his ear. I knew in an instant what it was - and so did Jordan.

"HE'S GOT A SAT PHONE! HE'S GOT A FUCKING SAT PHONE! IT'S THE POLICE - IT'S THE FUCKING POLICE!"

There were more shouts, more cries of anger, torrents of swearing as he and Darren panicked, blamed each other and then tried to formulate a plan. Nicolás had heard the shouting and had turned around. He was talking into the phone, describing what he could see.

"GET THAT FUCKING ENGINE STARTED!" someone was yelling.

"YOU! GET THAT STUFF OVERBOARD. I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT - JUST GET IT OFF THE FUCKING BOAT!"

I turned to Ellie. "This isn't safe. We gotta get off. We gotta get off the boat!"

"WHERE'S THE KEY? WHERE'S THE FUCKING KEY?"

I knew exactly where it was.

"I FUCKING GAVE IT TO YOU!"

"NO YOU DIDN'T. NO YOU FUCKING DIDN'T!!"

"BREAK THE DOOR DOWN. JUST BREAK THE FUCKING DOOR DOWN!"

There was a series of bangs and crashes, as the men hurled themselves in turn against the padlocked door, which stubbornly refused to yield.

More shouts more recrimination. They were trying to break the cabin windows with a wrench.

I glanced back towards Nicolás. He still had the phone to his ear, but he was listening. He wasn't coming any closer.

"We gotta get off," I whispered to Ellie. "We gotta dive in and swim out to him. He'll take us back."

Ellie nodded. She gripped my hand tighter.

I waved again at Nicolás. He lifted his hand in the subtlest gesture of acknowledgement. He'd seen me, he knew I was there. He didn't want to put me in any more danger.

That was a moment of great relief. Maybe it was best to sit tight.

Darren was shouting again. "YOU GOTTA DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! JUST GET HIM OFF THAT FUCKING PHONE!"

"WHERE'S THE FUCKING FLARE GUN?" Jordan shouted. "WHERE ARE THE FUCKING FLARES?"

His words ran through me like a bolt of lightning, chilling me to the bone. No way was I gonna stand by while he took aim at my Nicolás!

I leapt to my feet and flew up the stairs to the helm. Jordan was straightening up, trying to fit the flare into the gun. He looked up in surprise, shocked by my sudden appearance.

"YOU!" he snarled.

In that split second, I'd snatched the gun from his hand and had thrown it overboard.

"Ellie, jump!" I screamed, running for the side.

I dived - straight into the water.

Splash!

I swam - swam as fast as I could. It was cold, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to get away from them, to get to safety, to get to Nicolás. My heart was thumping, my arms were tiring, but I pushed on, harder, faster. My vision was dark, I had no idea where I was, where I was going, if he'd be there.

Hands were catching me. Strong hands, powerful hands. Lifting me up, like they'd lifted me before. I was in a boat, lying on the bottom. The engine was roaring, we were moving, skipping across the waves like a stone, jolting, jarring, knocking. I clung on for dear life.

Now we were slowing, throttling back - a quieter, gentle chug-chug-chug. I opened my eyes - I could breathe again. Someone was next to me - it was Ellie - lying on her front. Thank goodness - she'd made it too! I pushed myself up, coughing and spluttering. Nicolás was behind me, shutting off the engine.

He pointed at Ellie. "She is injured," he said quickly, matter-of-factly. He handed me a first aid box and a foil blanket. Then he picked up the phone and began to speak rapidly in Spanish again.

I knelt beside my friend. She was conscious, but groaning.

"It's OK," I whispered. "It's Lucy, we're safe, we're with Nicolás - you're gonna be OK!"

She rolled over a little. Now I could see her face for the first time. There was a big gash across her forehead and she was bleeding into her eyes. There was a cut on her leg as well. I reached into the box, pulled out a swab and started to clean the blood from her.

Suddenly Nicolás was beside me with a bandage, wrapping it round her head in swift, deft movements. Together we put her into the recovery position and placed the blanket over her.

He turned to me, gravely serious.

"Have you taken anything, any drugs?" he asked quickly. He was serious -- he wasn't messing around.

I shook my head, alarmed at his questioning.

"You haven't smoked, eaten any pills?"

Again I shook my head. "I haven't Nicolás, I swear."

"And her," he asked. "This is your friend? Has she taken anything?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "I'm pretty sure she hasn't though."

A look of relief passed over his face. He pointed at Ellie. "She will need to go to hospital. She may have concussion."