Euro-jaunt …chapter six

If you were to look up the definition of hedonist in the dictionary you’d perhaps find a picture of Ash with his cheeky grin. A self confessed gambler, part time alcoholic, drug abuser, and lover of any women with breasts bigger than a C-cup. Despite the tight uniform, it was obvious the air stewardess fitted into the latter category. I noticed his jaw loosen as he gawped at her double D’s.
“Err, another whisky over here please love!”
He’d had three already, as well as two pints of lager in the airport lounge, still he seemed fairly sober.
Ayman, was also with us, sitting in the aisle seat. He was a peculiar mix of African and Arabian, but to everyone who meets him his appearance looks Indian. I recalled to them both a story of a plane ride to Corfu I once took where the man in the seat opposite got severely inebriated and wouldn’t sit down as the plane came into land. Security were waiting for him at the air-bridge and he most likely got fined for misconduct. The purpose was to instill some sense into Ash before the tipping point would occur. If that were to happen he would turn into his alter-ego, ‘Bad-Ash.’
“What you tellin me that for? You think I’m gonna get us into trouble? I’m on ‘olidayy mate. Oi oi!”
The transformation had begun.
Meditation had become a daily ritual for me during the weeks leading up to the trip. His semi-hostile response washed over me. I smiled over at Ayman, knowing that he more than anyone would understand the severity of Bad-Ash surfacing. Ayman and Ash lived together, he was the only person known to make him see sense whenever he began to go off the rails. If Bad-Ash is the Hulk, then Ayman is Black Widow, the one to lull him out of hysteria.
Fortunately he hadn’t fully mutated before we hit the tarmac.
“Right, quick shower and then out,” his tipsy voice demanded.
Thankfully we had our own rooms and arranged to rendezvous in the lobby a half hour after arriving at the hotel. When the lift doors opened, I spectated as Ash was leaning over the reception desk whispering Spanish into the middle aged receptionists ear. She wore a tight black dress. Although her shoulders and flat chest seemed fairly normal the rest of her body resembled a bin liner filled with to much rubbish.
“I wouldn’t have thought her boobs are big enough for you,” I sniggered as we exited the building.
“No you’re right, I was just warming up for the main event when you get us talking to some hot totty at these bars.” He signaled to a handful of beachside bars that looked semi busy.
I spotted two cute girls on the periphery of the seating area and asked if the seats were taken. She thought I was requesting to take the seats away. When she gestured to take them I sat down instead, “You both look happy, are you celebrating something?” I asked.
They looked at each other and smiled, giving me the green light to wink at Ayman and Ash to come over from the bar area.
“Where are you both from?” I asked.
“The Netherlands,” they retorted in unison.
“Nöken in de köken ja,” Ash chimed in as he slid himself onto the seat at the table like a key into a lock.
They both giggled. Ash’s chest puffed up with pride. His main fear was always opening the conversation, once that’s taken care of he would thrive as the centre of attention. His biggest problem though was preventing needy behaviour creeping in the back door once he knew a girl liked him. Excessive physical contact, staring far to long at their breasts, and a general lack of coolness all become apparent once he’s been in conversation for longer than five minutes.
The Dutch girls did enjoy the banter though. We spent the majority of the evening with them before they claimed to have to get up early the next day and left.
A glimmer of Bad-Ash flashed across his Chevy Chase as he asked me what went wrong and why we weren’t all back at the hotel with them having an orgy. “I’m going to find some cocaine,” he huffed.
I turned to Ayman to let him know I was going to bed, I’d leave Ash in his capable hands.

The next morning I knocked at their hotel room doors but no answer.
I decided to sit and wait on the huge comfy sofa’s at the hotel reception where I found Ayman already there, “Where’s Ash, what happened last night?” I asked.
“He wouldn’t come back to the hotel, he made some Spanish friends and said he was staying out, so I left him there.”
“Hmm, hope he’s ok,” I grimaced.
Two minutes later a bedraggled bleary eyed Ash shuffled his way into the lobby. “There you both are! Come on, I’ve got us a ride and I’ve found a cool place to go for lunch at the other end of the beach!”
We walked outside to find the ride was infact a mobility scooter with a large basket on the front, “Ayman you sit in there, and you stand behind me,” He said affirmatively.
“Are you having a laugh? It probably won’t even take our weight,” I exclaimed.
“Course it will, haven’t you seen those fat lazy fuckers using them around town, come on, hop on!”
Before we knew it we were doing eight miles an hour down the beachside promenade with equal amounts of horrified and comedic looks from tourists. Ash embraced the fun, playfully aiming at passers by before turning at the last second and honking the miniature horn.
“I only got it for half the day, I’ll have to take it back after we’ve eaten.”
“Have you even been to sleep, what happened last night?” I asked.
“I got some grade A narco from the guys I made friends with, we sat on the beach till morning, didn’t seem much point in going to bed.”
“You’ll be knackered tonight though.” Ayman interjected.
“Nah, I’ll just get more charlie won’t I.”
Once night time rolled around we all piled in a taxi to Puerto Banus. On arrival we opened the doors of the taxi to be greeted instantly by a promoter high on cocaine, he aggressively told us to follow him, insisting that he was going to take us to the best bar on the strip.
As we followed our new narcotic leader I looked around at all the scantily clad elaborately enhanced women, fake body parts were everywhere, boobs, lips, eyelashes, arses. The whole place was lit up like what I imagined Bodi would call a neon nightmare.
We reached the bar where a suave silver haired, salt and pepper bearded owner greeted us. He had an air of confidence that I couldn’t decide was natural or also drug induced. As he smiled I visualised him being the kind of guy who’d make a good James Bond if he didn’t have such pock-marked skin. He looked like he was made of plasticine.
We were led over to the bar where Ash immediately ordered three shots of absyinthe. Ayman looked at me worried and Ash noticed, “It’s only absyinthe, don’t tell me you haven’t had it before! Anyway I’m gonna see if I can find that promoter kid, whatever he was on I want some!”
There were people dancing everywhere, drunken girls were on the podiums lapping up the attention of the leering guys in the crowd – including me and Ayman. Some of the podiums had poles attached, a tightly toned girl in a short white dress started to climb to the top. Me and Ayman continued to watch, “This looks dangerous,” he smiled.
I looked on in suspense, unsure whether she actually knew what she was doing, she reached her zenith at around three metres in the air.
As she twisted and twirled, balancing herself perfectly on her descent it became obvious she knew exactly how to work a pole. Every guy was mesmerized, a few even clapped while everyone else jeered when she reached the bottom.
“That was hot!” I shouted to Ayman.
“Did you see that pole dancer just then? Fuckin-hell!” shouted Ash as he came back from his mission.
I noticed the clear plastic of a small bag poking through his fingers, before he told us he was just popping to the toilet
When he returned his face had a wry smile spread across it.
“You look happy.” I told him.
“Yeah, I can tell it’s good gear …but I went in the wrong toilet and the barmaid was next to the sink when I came out of the cubicle.”
“You think she knew what you were doing?”
“I’m fuckin sure she did so I offered her some.”
“And…”
“Yeah she came in the cubicle and had a line, then I tried to kiss her.”
“You’ve been making out with the barmaid in the toilet?”
“No, she wouldn’t kiss me, but I got her to show me her tits for another line! Way-hey!”
Me and Ayman both laughed. I noticed the pole dancer girl leaving the bar, “Lets go outside to the smoking area!” I shouted.
We exited to the street where the strip of bars trailed off into the distance. I looked around and spotted her perched on a stool, lighting up a Marlboro. She was on her own. I felt a small explosion of joy mixed with fear go off inside me, like a happiness firework in my chest. We locked eyes and I started walking straight towards her like two magnets being drawn together. The eye contact remained locked as I pulled up a stool opposite and opened my mouth to speak. For a second the little voice inside my head told me to go back to my friends and forget about her.
I ignored the voice.
“That was impressive, what you did in there.”
“Oh, thanks.” For the first time she looked away as she tilted her head and blew the smoke in the air. I monitored her movements like an eagle stalking it’s prey. When she looked back at me her pupils were dilated. It was obvious she could feel my intent burning through her skull. My present energy surrounded us both in some kind of love bubble, it was almost like she fell into a trance like state.
“What’s your name?” She asked.
“Jack. Whats yours? You sound like your from Yorkshire?”
“Hannah. Yeah, kind of, I’m from Sheffield.”
“Cool, I was there a couple of months ago. Where did you learn to do that what you did in there?”
“Oh I’m an extreme sports junkie, pole dancing’s one of my hobbies. I won the national championships last year, and I’ll be competing again this summer.”
I must have been visibly impressed because she smiled and let out a slight chuckle.
“There’s something about you, here take my number, I’m going back inside to dance with my friends.”
I put the number in my phone while my stomach growled at me to try to keep her there. But the voice in my head told me I’d done enough and I let her go.
“You get her number?” Ash asked when I joined them.
“Yeah, but I should have probably built more rappor with her, she’s went back inside.”
“Maybe you’ll see her later. Either way, me and Ayman enjoyed watching the master at work!”
The great thing about being out with Ash was his innate ability at making you feel good by stroking your ego, it was one of his best attributes.
We decided to leave the bar, intending to return after having a drink somewhere else, but Ash got so enraptured by the amount of silicon in the other bars that we never made it back. I didn’t see pole-dancing-girl again that night. I did try to call her at the end of the night but there was no answer. I left a message instead.
Once back at the hotel Ash announced he was going back to the beachside bars to get more cocaine. Both me and Ayman tried to talk him out of it, “Haven’t you spent enough tonight, you gave the guy in the toilet fifty euros for a spray of his aftershave, I think you’d be better off just getting some sleep.”
Ayman’s words fell on deaf ears. Ash’s head shook side to side so fast his face became a blur, “You two lightweights can get some sleep, I’m a machine, I’ll sleep on the plane ride home.” He raised his short arms into a victory stance and nodded at us both with a smug look. I smiled back at him wondering what it is about him that made him so likable.

I’d only been asleep an hour before the knock at the door woke me up.
“Who is it!?”
“It’s me Ash, open the door you twat.”
“What’s up, why you out of breath?”
“Some Spanish kid just stole my wallet, I tried to catch him but he got away.”
“He pick-pocketed you?”
“No, the little arsehole befriended me and said he could get us some good charlie, so I went to give him the money and he swiped the fucking wallet out my hand and legged it! I almost caught him at one point but these FUCKING SHOES have no grip on them! It’s a good job I didn’t get him anyway, I’d have stoved the fuckers head in the ground.”
“How much was in the wallet?”
“Around three hundred euros. I knocked because I need to use your phone to cancel my credit cards.”
“Yeah no problem.”
I looked at Ash’s rosy cheeks while he sat their gasping and wheezing. There was a small trickle of blood coming out of one nostril but he’d said that happens all the time and it was nothing. At 44 he was almost twenty years older than me but he was in good shape for his age. I wasn’t overly worried but I did have slight concerns for him, he hadn’t slept for almost two days and him having a heart attack in my hotel room with three grams of cocaine coursing through his body would not be a great scenario to be in. I suggested he try to sleep and arranged to meet in the lobby the next morning.
Luckily he was there, and remarkably looked the picture of health. It astounds me how some people recover from a two day drink and drugs binge after six hours sleep, where as I turn into a shell of a man the next day after just four pints.
We went out for food. Some cheap place by the beach that did all the usual warm up grub and we all ordered jacket potatoes with a beer.
I’ve never been much of a fan of football. Unless its the world cup it doesn’t particularly interest me. Ash looked at me quizzically before opening his coleslaw juice covered lips, “If you don’t like footy then what you gonna do while we go and watch Barcelona play?”
“I’ll do some daygame approaches while I’m here, it’ll be good practise since I’ve not properly done it alone, and it’ll be the first time I’ve tried it in a different country.”
“Ahh hit on some senoritas! Nice!”
“Maybe, but Bodi reckons Spanish girls are always in large groups and don’t like speaking English, so, we’ll see”
“Maybe I’ll be drunk enough after the game to try it myself, will give me a chance to perfect my Spanish accent!”
“Yeah you should totally join me!”
After finishing the food we payed the bill then Ash and Ayman left for the football match. I got a sudden rush of loneliness, but it was also mixed with excitement. The anxiety was considerably less than it was in Sheffield but the little voice inside my head still tried to give protest.
Eventually I seen a dark haired, thick eyebrowed girl with caramel skin, dressed in a black mini skirt and black netted top draped over her shoulders. I caught up to her up and proceeded to tell her that I noticed her walking past because of her sexy outfit. I felt myself wince at the word sexy. It was irrelevant, she threw her wrists in the air and smiled saying, “No English.” As I walked away I noticed a tall, thin, pale skinned man in glasses turned his head as he passed by. He then stopped a few feet away, covertly trying to watch me. Another girl walked by. I attempted to say hello but was overly aware of the strange man watching. I decided to find a different street and began walking away. I shot a glance behind me and he was still there, this time looking straight at me. I gave him a confused look and carried on walking.
After taking around six or seven more steps I looked in a passing shop window reflection to see that he’d actually turned around and was walking in the same direction as me. Was it a coincidence? I couldn’t tell. I carried on walking and pretended he wasn’t there until I seen a slim freckle dusted blonde walk out of a convenience shop and started to follow her, occasionally looking in the shop windows reflections again to see he was still tailing me. ‘Fuck it,’ I told myself. I caught up to the blonde to run my opener, “Hi, you just walked out of that shop, I know this is kinda weird but I just had to say hi because I love girls with freckles.” I felt myself wince again. “Ahh! Thanks!” She squealed. “Nobody has ever said that to me before!” She radiated love and warmth and femininity, but insisted she was late for an appointment and had to dash off.
I glanced to my left and noticed the man in glasses had now stopped and was pretending to look at his phone. After the girl left I entered the shop adjacent. I realised once inside that it was an underwear shop. I pretended I was looking for lingerie for a girlfriend while I waited for the man to disappear.
A few minutes passed and I felt certain the strange man outside would be gone, only to almost bump into him as I left the shop. He looked more startled than me, his whole body seemed to jump two feet in the air, the thin rimmed glasses bounced on his nose landing on the tip, and his mouth hung open with his chin loosely swaying. “What the fuck?” I whispered. This time giving him a purposefully angry look as I started walking away.
I looked back again but this time he was looking at the floor with a sad expression. I felt guilty for being unnecessarily rude. Who knows why he was following me. Maybe he’d been impressed and wanted to express his admiration, or maybe he thought he knew me. I came to the conclusion that he was most likely a pick-up artist, and was probably hoping to meet someone like minded. I decided I’d over reacted and went back to befriend him and find out exactly why, or if, he was following me.
Where he disappeared to I had no idea but he was nowhere to be seen. I checked every direction, but nothing. Scratching my head confused I walked away.
I did one more approach, briefly chatting to a cute Austrian girl while simultaneously looking around over my shoulders, paranoid I was being watched again.
When I met back up with Ash and Ayman I told them about the stalker.
“Maybe he liked you, was he staring at your arse when you looked in the shop window reflections?” Ash laughed as he playfully punched both me and Ayman simultaneously.
“I should have been friendly to him. I think he might have been a pua.”
“Fuck that guy. Let’s just enjoy the rest of our trip before we have to go back to dreary England.

Click here to read chapter seven