The sun sparkled on the Mediterranean Sea. As the Catalan countryside rolled past him, Carlo P. looked out of the window from the train. It was beautiful here, no doubt. Coming to study his history degree from Rome, he knew the Spanish climate here would agree with him. It was mid-September in his eighteenth year. He had the whole rest of his life ahead of him.
Freshers’ week passed. Carlo had partied hard and was ready to hit the books on Monday. He’d even found a group of friends with whom he could potentially share a flat and made some progress with the basic steps of learning Catalan.
He spent Saturday at the beach, working on his tan. He went for a run and signed up for a ‘trial session’ at the local gym. When the time came to shower and dress after his workout, he felt terrific. He saw himself in the mirror. His chest was buff. His skin was a healthy brown. He looked great.
Now he had, at last, escaped his parental home, it was surely only a matter of time before he popped his cherry. All those years of no privacy, no opportunities in the Conservative circles his strict parents moved in. It would be soon now. He looked at his body in the mirror. It had to be soon. He couldn’t wait much longer. Not when all his friends had done it. Or at least, not when all his friends claimed they had. Of course, none of them knew that he was still a virgin.
Cristina M. brushed her long brown hair in readiness for her sixth shift at the coffee house. She’d taken the job the week that all the students at the local University arrived. It hadn’t been why she’d taken it, but all these young guys passing through her café was definitely a perk of the job. Cristina was eighteen years old. She’d decided Uni wasn’t for her, at least not for now. She needed to be sure about what direction she wanted to take, and she simply couldn’t make that commitment yet.
And the café was a cool place to work. The staff were young. The music was current. She got a staff discount. It was all good.
Cristina poured out another latte for another punter. The coffee bar was half full, for now. It was getting close to closing time. Looking up, she saw Carlo come in. Tight black t-shirt. He looked good. But why did he bring the books? Who did he think he was kidding? He’d been in every night since he’d introduced himself. And they’d flirted and now he had her number. Bless him, he hadn’t been in town long. He didn't speak the language so well. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to hang out.
“Hey, Carlo. Making a head start on the books?” she said drily.
“Yeah. Hey, Cristina… I was wondering what time you get off work? I was going to head out and I’d love some company.”
She smiled. At last, he was at least being honest about why he was there! Why not? She hadn’t been out this week.
“Nine o’clock.”
“Meet at the Yacht club bar at ten?”
“Great!”
They met and sat in the bar, which had a nice view of the harbour. They watched the boats of the impossibly rich bump up and down in the water and talked about where they’d like to sail them to. What they’d do if they had that kind of money. They learned about each other. Cristina told him about growing up with a twin sister. She told him about her hopes of being a writer, and the food blog she kept. Carlo told her about the great ruins of his home city, and how they had inspired him to study the past for his degree. They both watched their spending carefully but enjoyed each other’s company so much that they didn’t need lots to drink to overcome nerves.
At last, the sun went down. They drank up and paid the bill and agreed to take a walk along the shore.
They walked along the deserted beach. Cristina took his hand. Carlo suddenly stopped. He stepped in front of her. Her eyes did not blink as he looked deep into them. He put his fingers gently to her temple, and then kissed her. She kissed him. The sea was lapping at their feet. A wave ran over their shoes.
“Tide!”
They walked three meters further and then they noticed the windbreak. Someone had left a blue windbreak open on the beach, open to the cliff but not to the beach in general. It would provide shelter and privacy. A cocoon.
They lay down together. The sand was cool in the night. They kissed and then Cristina slipped her hand under his shirt. Carlo was thrilled with the human contact on his skin. Her cotton shirt was tucked into her black trousers. Carlo pulled her shirt out and slipped his hand under hers. He held his hand to her side, and then he ran his palm across her belly. Where was that belly button? Blind, he used his index finger to find it, and it was shallow and soft and he pressed into it. He had always found the navel the sexiest part of a woman’s body.
Cristina kissed Carlo’s neck. She felt Carlo’s muscles and the cricks in his neck and where bone protruded slightly at the shoulders. She ran her hand up to his chest and it was firm. She pressed her hand to the left of his chest then moved, feeling the dip between his ribcage, to the right. He had a nice body. He was an attractive young man, and her body was definitely warming to him.
Carlo slowly moved his hand upwards, hardly daring to reach her breasts in case permission would be denied. In case that was as far as he’d be allowed to go. At any moment, he was sure she’d object, or a stranger would pass by and break the spell, or lightning would strike him dead but…no. His hand reached up and squeezed her breast through her bra. It was soft and malleable, and she kissed him even firmer.
Cristina felt him take her left breast in her hand and she sighed inwardly. It continued to surprise her that men did find her small breasts attractive. All those hours she’d wasted in front of the mirror, imagining a boob job. Imagining a boyfriend wearing a look of disappointment as she nervously bared her breasts for him. She smiled. Then she reached down, pulled up her shirt, exposing her midriff and breasts. Carlo looked up. Her eyes motioned to say ‘kiss me’.
He did. He pressed his lips to her bare flesh and breathed deep to catch what little remained of her scent after the wind had spirited most of it away. He kissed Cristina’s breasts urgently, as if they could be snatched from him any moment.