Faith - Lesley Pearse [179]
The little terrace bar was just like ones she’d so often seen in holiday brochures since then. The bar itself had green and white awning above the door, there was a shocking pink bougainvillea cascading over a whitewashed wall, and the tablecloths on the small round tables were lemon yellow. Even the black iron railings that prevented anyone falling headlong down the cliff into the sea below were festooned with scarlet hibiscus.
It was a scene so different to the greyness of Edinburgh that she had imagined it would be impossible for her mind to jump back to the city. But suddenly she found herself back there mentally, and she could not prevent herself from reliving that Saturday afternoon a year earlier.
She had met Howie, a tall, blond, muscular Australian, several times before that day, but she had put him down as an arrogant twerp who thought he was God’s gift to women because he was handsome and bronzed. He had no real conversation, or even a sense of humour. Laura had once said to another woman that she thought the best use for him would be to stick him in a shop window modelling swimming trunks.
But that weekend she was on top of the world. The day before she’d paid £900 into her bank account, she had another film ready for distribution, and Barney had gone off to Jackie’s until Sunday. When she woke on Saturday morning she decided she was going to have some fun.
Her hairdresser was her first port of call. He dyed her hair black and curled it into loose ringlets and it looked sensational. She had her first drink of the day while changing into skin-tight white jeans and a skimpy red and white halter top, which showed her cleavage, then made for a pub in Rose Street in the New Town.
After a couple more drinks and a line of coke in the toilets, she was ready for anything. Then she saw Howie.
As always, he had the sleeves of his pale blue denim shirt rolled up to show off his tanned muscular arms, and he was posing at the bar with one hand curled round a pint of beer, the other in his jeans pocket. It was a look-at-me pose, I’m a real hunk, eat your hearts out, you scrawny, pale-faced Scotsmen.
The pub was crowded, mainly with men, either waiting for their women to finish shopping, or the usual losers who spent the whole of the weekend propping up a bar. Laura walked right up to Howie and grinned seductively. ‘If you play your cards right you can have me tonight,’ she said.
As she was wearing heels, she was almost as tall as him, and he arrogantly looked her up and down.
‘Maybe I don’t want you,’ he said.
‘Oh, I know you do,’ she said, giving him a smouldering look. ‘But I haven’t got the patience to stand around waiting for you to make the first move.’
As several other men had overheard this exchange, and it was clear by their dropped jaws that they thought any man had to be mad, or gay, to refuse her, Howie bought her a drink.
She didn’t care that his conversation was so limited. The pub was noisy anyway, the jukebox was playing ‘You Drive Me Crazy’ by Shakin’ Stevens, and she was buzzing from the coke. He bought her a second drink, and he seemed amused and stimulated by her direct manner, but his arrogance still showed through. She had the idea she would take him home, give him the time of his life, then deflate him completely by telling him to piss off when she’d finished with him.
A couple of other Australians he knew came in, and they made it quite plain they fancied her, which made Howie move closer to her. One of the Australians put ‘Jealous Guy’ by Roxy Music on the jukebox and they teased Howie saying it was for him, which made her feel all-powerful.
It must have been half-three in the afternoon when they left the pub and by then Laura had had five or six drinks. They bought a bottle of wine to take back to her flat, and almost the second they were through the door Howie leapt on her, pulling off her clothes and shedding his.
It was probably the hottest, most erotic sex she