Little Men - The E Book (18 page)

“Oops. If the papers get hold of that I’m in all sorts of trouble,” Simon said, his expression one of mock anguish.

“I need the loo,” Kyla said, grinning uncontrollably. A new gaggle had formed next to Simon. He turned and faced them and greeted them warmly, but followed Kyla with one eye as she disappeared into the crowd.

He could not stop thinking about the stunning woman he’d just encountered. He’d met and dated gorgeous women before, of course, but Kyla seemed to be something else. Dark and mysterious, yet friendly and flirty. He just
had
to speak to her again. Luckily, he didn’t have long to wait.

“Hi Simon,” she said as she approached him from behind, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

“Kyla! I was just thinking how boring this party is. How are you finding things?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit tedious, isn’t it?” Kyla was lying. She was loving it. She adored showbiz parties and, at last, this was one where people actually wanted to speak to her. And they were friendly too, not just out to knock her down, or so it seemed.

“Why don’t we get some champagne and find a table?” Simon asked, but he knew the answer. His power meant he rarely had to try too hard with women.

“Okay,” Kyla replied eagerly.

They found a spare table and sat down together. Kyla was rather drunk and Simon was naturally full of confidence. There was none of the usual awkwardness of two people who had just met.

“So, people have been telling me what a star you are these days,” Simon said.

“Been doing your research, have you? Why didn’t you just ask me direct? And where have you been lately? You must be the only person who doesn’t think I’m the ‘bitchy one’ off
Sleeping With The Enemy.”

“I didn’t watch it. I know I should‘ve, I‘m involved in the next series. I suppose that‘s why I’m here tonight, really. But I’ve been out of the country. I’ve been promoting a few acts in South Africa. I only came back for the meeting with Carl the other day.” Kyla listened intently. This sort of talk never failed to impress her.

“What sort of acts?”

“Well, you know Charlie Caxton? He works for me, and my label. He writes a lot of his own tracks, with other producers. He DJs in clubs, plays the music. They might do a live PA or something with a singer. I’m a promotions guy really. I help get it in the press, get the right… exposure. It’s pretty boring... but it pays the bills, you know.”

Kyla thought it sounded anything but boring. It was exactly the kind of lifestyle she aspired to.

“Oh, don’t be so modest. I bet you go to loads of showbiz parties, don’t you? Like this one?”

Simon realised it wouldn’t be too difficult to get Kyla into bed.

“Well, I’m friends with a lot of Hollywood actors and directors and whatnot. I get invited to their houses sometimes. I’ve started doing a lot of film soundtracks, you see.”

Kyla listened, wide-eyed. They chatted some more and drank champagne. Simon had trouble keeping his eyes off Kyla’s crossed legs, her tiny denim skirt barely covering her lacy knickers. Inevitably they started kissing. The party was starting to wind down. Simon put his hand on Kyla’s bare knee. Her chocolate-coloured skin felt silky-smooth to his touch. He felt blood rush to his penis.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.

“Sure,” she whispered, drunk, but still well aware that she was about to be seduced by one of the most powerful and good-looking men in music.

As they spilled out onto the street, Simon hailed a passing black cab. They started snogging feverishly in the back.

“Cosmopolitan Hotel, please,” Simon said. “I’ve got an account there.” Kyla could feel herself getting wet.

The taxi drove steadily through the damp night until it pulled up at one of London’s most expensive and exclusive hotels. Simon paid the driver and led Kyla into the lobby and up to the reception desk.

“Hello, Mr. Owen. Your usual suite?”

“Yes, please. And can you send up some champagne, please?”

“Certainly, sir. It will be about five minutes.”

The couple had barely got through the door of Suite 411 when they were tearing at each other’s clothes. Kyla lay on the bed in just her tiny thong as Simon knelt above her, his erection straining in his pants. Kyla felt his cock through the thin material then pulled them off completely. His manhood sprang upwards close to her face. She leant forward and teased the tip with her tongue, making Simon breathe with pleasure. He didn’t want to come straight away so he gently pushed her down and slowly eased her knickers off, then started kissing her inner thigh until he reached her vagina. He softly teased her clitoris with his tongue. It was her turn to gasp with pleasure. He continued, varying the pace with hard and soft flicks of his tongue, her juices wetting his chin. She came hard, breathing heavily. Before she had time to recover he slammed his hard cock into her pussy, thrusting vigorously. After a few thrusts he pulled out and shot a stream of hot semen over her tanned stomach. They collapsed in a heap on the bed.

There was a knock on the door. The champagne had arrived.

Denise Thompson looked at her boyfriend. For the first time in a long time she felt secure, finally she had him to herself. The fortnight’s holiday was exactly what they needed, she thought, as they sat together on the plane as it began its descent into Ibiza airport.

A romantic getaway on a quiet Mediterranean island. Perfect. She knew Tony was a good man at heart. She could see that in him. They had been together a year, and at times things had been very difficult. Tony would often disappear for days at a time, whole weekends sometimes, without a word to anyone. His parents had practically disowned him. Denise knew he’d been in trouble with the law, he was a thief and had a violent streak.

He ran with a gang and would travel around the country under the pretence of going to football matches. Denise was no fool, he would come back with black eyes and cuts, occasionally even broken bones. She knew he was one of the ‘football hooligans’ she saw on the news and read about in the newspapers.

But he was never violent with her, he was just a high-spirited jack-the-lad, she reasoned. And now, at the age of twenty-two, he should be ready to settle down and commit, she hoped. Maybe even during this holiday, and maybe she would even get a proposal… She smiled to herself, trying not to get carried away. But she had a warm fuzzy feeling inside that she couldn’t explain.

Again she gazed at Tony. He looked back and smiled. God, that smile! No wonder women fawned over him. Now she had him all to herself and she was determined not to let him go. Two weeks of pure togetherness, no distractions, just the two of them.

At last he seemed to be showing some enthusiasm for the holiday, the relationship and her. That’s all he needed, she thought, some gentle but determined persuasion and he would be all hers.

She watched him as he looked out of the plane’s window.

“Weather looks good, doll!” he exclaimed in his chirpy Essex accent.

“Are you looking forward to it?” Denise asked, not for the first time.

“Yeah, course, babe. Get a bit of sun on our backs. Just what we need!” He playfully squeezed her leg.

“D’you think there’ll be much to do? You know I get a bid bored sometimes just sitting around doing nothing.” Denise knew this only too well. Tony had trouble keeping still for more than five minutes.

“Oh yeah,” she replied. “We’ll have a lovely time. There’s beaches and restaurants. We can go for romantic walks in the evening. There’s also plenty for you to do during day, watersports and whatnot.” Tony smiled half-heartedly. Not really what he had in mind.

Denise had only heard of the island because she was a massive Wham! fan. She had often read that Ibiza was a favourite hang-out of George Michael. One thing did worry her slightly. She had also read that parts of the island were notorious for lager louts, young single lads abroad. She would keep Tony away from all that, and at the moment he didn’t have a clue. He never read anything, and had little knowledge of anywhere outside the UK. This was only his second time abroad.

The plane touched down smoothly and the couple made their way to the coach, smiling and laughing in the warm Spanish sunshine. They both felt excited as the bus slowly made its way across the island to their resort in a town called Santa Eularia
.

The accommodation was fairly typical for a cheap European package holiday. A one-bedroom apartment, functional pine furniture, balcony and basic equipment. Denise, who lived in a tiny house with her parents, thought it was a palace.

She strolled out onto the balcony and breathed the sea air. Tony walked out behind her and ensconced her in his arms. He kissed the back of her neck and soon they were tenderly making love as the early evening sun went down, bathing the bedroom in soft natural light.

Several days passed. It was everything Denise had hoped for. The couple became completely wrapped in each other. They spent their days on the beach, baking in the hot sun. They would head back to the room in the late afternoon and doze together, and usually had passionate sex before heading out for dinner at about eight o’clock. After a romantic meal they would slowly walk together in the moonlight, arm-in-arm. Tony was a different person to his usual, brash, Essex boy persona. He was tender and loving. He even regularly whispered “I love you” to Denise as they strolled along the beach, waves gently lapping at the shore.

One afternoon, as the couple lay on the beach together, Tony said:

“Babe, shall we try somewhere different for dinner tonight, maybe somewhere else on the island?” They were the words Denise was secretly dreading. It meant that Tony was thinking outside the bubble of the relationship. It meant that, for the first time during the holiday, she wouldn’t have full control over her boyfriend. She didn’t, however, want to spoil the idyllic chemistry they’d created, so she knew she had to agree to what was in reality a pretty harmless request.

“Yeah, okay. Where did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really know anything about this place. I just feel like exploring a bit. We’ve come all this way. It’d be nice to see a bit out of town, y’know?”

“Yeah okay, why not?” Denise gazed into the distance.
Why not?
She thought.

The couple got ready as usual and walked from their hotel into the street. It was a beautiful summer’s evening, completely still. Denise wore a long white dress. It perfectly accentuated her slim figure. Although she was a naturally very pretty girl, she never went out in public without first applying her bright pink lipstick and turquoise eyeshadow. Her permed blonde hair was immaculate as the hairspray dried in the warmth of the evening.

Tony also wore his hair long. It was thick and black, rarely needing any products to keep it in place. He was tall and skinny, not yet filled out fully into a man’s frame. He had tanned deeply, which made him, at least in Denise’s eyes, even more good-looking.

He was dressed almost completely in blue, a baggy T-shirt, acid-washed jeans, and white loafers which Denise had bought him, knowing he was a huge fan of
Miami Vice.
He completed the outfit with a gold chain and cross, which he wore outside his T-shirt .

It occurred to Denise that Tony looked ever-so-slightly like a long-haired Marc Almond, but she kept this quiet, fearing his reaction if she were to voice this observation out loud. She smiled to herself as he flagged a taxi. They still had no idea where they were going to spend the evening. They boarded the cab.

“Engliss?” asked the driver. It was easy to tell they were.

“Yeah,” said Tony.

“Where to, guv’ner?” the driver asked in a mock cockney accent. They both laughed.

“We, er, dunno.” Tony, the more extrovert of the two, always tried to take control of situations, although conversing with Spanish taxi drivers was a new experience for him. He soldiered on.

“We wanna go somewhere a bit different, you know? A bit… livelier. Cosmopolitan.”

“Si, señor.”

The driver knew exactly where to take them. They were young Brits abroad. ‘Lively’ was a word he understood well. He would take them to San Antonio, it was exactly what they had asked for and, being on the other side of the island, meant a nice fare for him.

San Antonio De Portmany was completely different to Santa Eularia. Music blared from bars illuminated from bright neon lights. Denise loved the music, Culture Club, Duran Duran, The Thompson Twins. It was the bars themselves she was wary of. There would be other women there, temptation for Tony. And he was looking more gorgeous than ever. She pulled him closer as they made their way past the fountains and along the pavements that were starting to fill up with people out for their evening’s entertainment.

Shortly, they decided on an open-air restaurant on the promenade with a pretty backdrop of the bay, with its moored-up boats. The eatery, like everywhere else, was crowded. They took their seats. As they perused the menu, a waiter appeared in front of the table next to them. Without a word, he slid it closer, obviously keen to accommodate as many people as possible. Tony didn’t even notice, but Denise wanted to object as another young couple took their seats so close it was almost as if they’d gone out together and asked for a table for four. Before Denise could say anything, Tony, being Tony, had introduced himself to the couple and they were already laughing and chatting. Denise smiled awkwardly.

“This is Denise,” Tony said.

“Hello Denise,” said the man sat diagonally opposite her.

“I’m Simon. This is my girlfriend Nicola.” The two men instantly hit it off, and swivelled their chairs to face each other.

“Where are you from?” asked Tony.

“Kent, Sidcup,” replied Simon.

“Just over the river from us. Barking in Essex.”

“Small world,” said Denise quietly.

“What do you do?” asked Simon.

“I’m a mechanic. I work with my uncle. I’m still doing my apprenticeship. Should be finishing this year. What about you?”