Is he planning to hang around with us all bloody day? I glance at Ben, who is clearly thinking the same thing.
As he catches me sitting up, Georgios leaps to attention.
“Madame wishes to swim? Madame wishes to cross the hot sand?” He proffers the flip-flops.
What?
OK, this is just stupid. These five-star hotels have gone way, way too far. Yes, I’m on holiday; yes, it’s nice to have some personal service. But that doesn’t make me suddenly incapable of laying out a towel or unscrewing a bottle cap or putting on my own flip-flops.
“No, thanks. What I’d really like is …” I try to think of some time-consuming challenge. “I’d like a freshly squeezed orange juice with honey drizzled in it. And some M&M’s. The brown ones only. Thank you so much, Georgios.”
“Madame.” To my relief, he bows and walks away.
“Brown M&M’s?” says Ben incredulously. “You diva.”
“I was trying to get rid of him!” I retort in an undertone. “Is he going to stalk us all day? Is that what a personal butler does?”
“God knows.” Ben seems distracted. He keeps eyeing my bikini top. Or, rather, the contents of my bikini top.
“Let me rub your sun cream in,” he says. “I’m not giving that job to the butler.”
“OK. Thanks.” I hand him the bottle and he squeezes a big dollop of cream onto his palm. As he starts to apply it, I hear him inhale sharply.
“Let me know if I’m too rough,” he murmurs. “Or not rough enough.”
“Er … Ben,” I whisper. “I meant my back. I don’t actually need help applying it to my cleavage.”
I don’t think Ben can hear, because he doesn’t stop. A nearby woman is giving us an odd look. Now Ben takes another dollop of sun cream and starts rubbing it under my bikini top. With both hands. He’s breathing very heavily. And now several people are looking.
“Ben!”
“Just being thorough,” he mumbles.
“Ben! Stop!” I jerk away. “Do my back.”
“Right.” He blinks a few times, his eyes unfocused.
“Maybe I should do it myself.” I take the bottle from him and start slathering it on my legs. “Do you want some? Ben?” I wave to get his attention, but he seems in a trance. Then suddenly he comes to.
“I’ve had an idea.”
“What kind of idea?” I say warily.
“A brilliant idea.”
He gets up and approaches a couple lying on sun beds nearby. I noticed them earlier, at breakfast. They both have red hair and I’m already worried about them burning in the sun.
“Hi, there.” Ben smiles charmingly down at the woman. “Enjoying your holiday? I’m Ben, by the way. We’ve just arrived.”
“Oh. Hi, there.” The woman has a slightly suspicious tone.
“Lovely hat.” He gestures at her head.
Lovely hat? It’s the most nondescript straw hat I’ve ever seen. What is he up to?
“Actually, I was wondering,” Ben carries on. “I’m in a bit of a bind. I’ve got a very important call to make and our room is out of action. Would you mind if I used yours? Just briefly. I’d pop up really briefly. With my wife,” he adds carelessly. “We’d be quick.”
The woman looks a bit flummoxed.
“A call?” she says.
“An important business call,” Ben says. “As I say, we’d be super quick. In and out.”
He glances at me and gives the tiniest of winks. I’d smile if I weren’t so transfixed with longing. A room. Oh God, we so need a room.…
“Darling?” The woman leans over and nudges her husband. “These people want to borrow our room.” The husband sits up and stares at Ben, shading his eyes against the sun. He’s older than his wife and is doing The Times’s crossword.
“Why on earth would you need to do that?”
“For a call,” says Ben. “A really quick business call.”
“Why can’t you use the conference center?”
“Not private enough,” says Ben without missing a beat. “This is a very confidential, discreet kind of call. I’d very much appreciate a secluded space.”
“But—”
“I’ll tell you what …” Ben hesitates. “Why don’t I give you a little gift for your trouble? Say, fifty quid?”
“What?” The husband sounds flabbergasted. “You want to pay us fifty quid just to use our room? Are you serious?”
“I’m sure the hotel would find you a room for nothing,” puts in the wife helpfully.
