Lauren slouched back on her deck-chair. Staring lazily through her sunglassses at the sea – the Caribbean - she allowed a broad smile to creep across her mouth.
She had done it. She had actually done it! She had escaped to Mexico for the rest of the summer and there was nothing, nothing her parents could, practically-speaking, do about it. Her mother had admitted as much, tearfully, when Lauren had called her, earlier that day, to triumphantly explain where she was and to say that she wasn't going to be returning for three weeks.
For sure, the plane tickets and the hotels had cost her most of the modest sum she had inherited after the death of her aunt earlier that year. She couldn't really afford this sort of holiday. And, of course, she was on her own. For none of Lauren's friends could match her boldness or impulsiveness. Most, were, as Lauren recalled, with some contempt, terrified of getting into trouble. They were worried about being some kind of accessory to Lauren "running away from home". The cowards, Lauren thought!
Yet, if Lauren was honest with herself, the prospect of being only 18 years old and spending three weeks alone in a distant land was a bit daunting, if not terrifying.
But, hey, it was surely worth it to get away from her parents for a few weeks. To get away from their narrow-minded preaching about the importance of getting work experience ... from endless mathematics and Spanish tutoring. And, really, how many other high school girls from the Home Counties have the sort of adventure that Lauren was now embarking upon?
Tomorrow, she would maybe go on a boat trip around the bay and investigate getting some sailing lessons. Meanwhile, she would soon head back to the beach-side hotel where she had checked in only last night, get changed, then head out find somewhere cheap to eat in town. Then maybe check out the local night life, make some new friends...
Suddenly, in the midst of this reverie, she felt an unexpected impact on her stomach. Surprised, she opened her eyes to see a beachball rolling off her recliner and a couple of Mexican men stumbling towards her from the direction of the sea, arms outstretched in apology.
"Senorita! Lo siento... Sorry! Sorry about the ball!" exhaled the taller, older of the pair as he came right up to the foot of her recliner.
"De nada" mouthed Lauren, and scooped up the ball and lobbed it to the Mexican in one movement. The man caught it and gave Lauren a toothy smile.
"Very nice, young lady. Nice control! You are American, yes?"
"American? No I'm from England."
"Ah, yes! You are here on holiday with your family, or your friends?"
"No..." Lauren replied, with a sudden sense of embarrassment. "I'm travelling on my own".
"Ah, OK..." said the man. Lauren observed him look her body up and down: her long, supple limbs, youthful skin, lustrous, if somewhat messy blonde hair, her neat. She thought: he's probably re-assessing my age, thinking that I must be older than he originally thought.
"...Hey", he continued, "You are good with the ball, no? You should come and play with me and my friend Ricardo."
"OK. I'll play you!" said Lauren, after a momentary pause, and a little thrill of excitement that she was already making some friends. The two men seemed harmless enough. Muscular but a little goofy-looking (like, in her opinion, a lot of the locals here), their features a little coarse. They were probably from the lower class, although Lauren couldn't feel confident that she understood the niceties of Mexican society yet. In any event, Lauren had notions that she would befriend all sorts of characters in the course of her adventure, from humble domestic servants to ambassadors and spies... well maybe.
The man introduced himself as "Juan" as he confidently extended an arm for Lauren to lift herself up. Lauren accepted it, and introduced herself to Juan, and then walked straight over to Ricardo, Juan's shorter, slightly chubby friend, and shook hands with him. He smiled politely, but said little.
The three of them played several rounds of beach volleyball – or at least bouncing the ball over the net Juan and Ricardo had set up - the men taking it in turns to play her one-on-one. They profusely praised nearly every move Lauren made, which Lauren found a little patronising, but not unbearably so. They were being friendly after all. They were both clearly aware of her fine figure, as well, but Lauren felt assured that the attention they paid with their eyes stopped short of gawping.
The late afternoon sun was still fierce, and after an hour or so, Lauren began to tire. "Why don't you come into town for dinner with Ricardo and me?" said Juan, as they packed up the net. Lauren demurred; she had to head back up to hotel to change out of her swimsuit. But it transpired out that her hotel was near to a great restaurant that the men knew, so she agreed to meet them there in an hour.
* * *
A few hours later, Lauren found herself in a club on the edge of town.
This place was a revelation. Pounding beats, enormous energy, snappily-dressed skinny youths going crazy for the music. There was nowhere this cool in Lauren's hometown - nowhere this cool in London, even. Lauren danced on her own at one corner of the dance floor, with various boys taking their turn to show off their moves, at a respectful distance of a few feet. As a blonde, foreign girl in a Mexican port town, she was getting a lot of attention. Lauren, for her part thought she fancied some of the boys and hoped that one would come up strike up a conversation with her (and hopefully in English, since her Spanish was terrible).
Lauren, was, in fact, for all her rebelliousness, and despite her attractiveness, still a virgin. She believed that she was a cut above the local lads of Bedfordshire. She had been out with several, but they were all too drippy, or too ordinary to consider going all the way with. What she really wanted was a man who would take control. Someone who wouldn't meekly ask if he could take off her bra...
In fact, the ideas that filled Lauren's mind as she fingered herself in bed at night involved her being commanded – being forced – to have sex by cruel brutes... of rape, in fact. But that was, as Lauren well understood, just fantasy. Obviously, she would probably find, and lose it to, a long-term boyfriend at university: she imagined he would be a kindly and intelligent man.
Juan and Ricardo had taken her to the club after a long dinner at the restaurant during which she had expounded on her hatred of England, of English weather, of her parent's conservatism, and so on. Juan and Ricardo had nodded sincerely throughout. Juan, for his part, explained that he and Ricardo worked "in security". Both were on a week off. He said he was humbled to have had the opportunity of conversing with someone so "intelligent and beautiful". ("Another loser!" smiled Lauren to herself as she waived away the compliments with the palm of her hand.) Ricardo, meanwhile, took some arty pictures of the group on his impressive-looking camera.
Now Juan and Ricardo – both older (perhaps in their 30s?) than the average clientele of the club - were standing in against the wall near the toilets, quietly observing the proceedings. Juan, meanwhile, seemed to recognise quite a number of the boys in the club, who he clasped hands with or back-slapped as they made their way to and from the toilets.
Occasionally, Juan would huddle together with a youth in a corner for a few seconds before turning back around and rejoining Ricardo. It then dawned on Lauren that he might be selling drugs. "Cool!" she thought. "This is my chance to score some dope on my second night in Mexico."
Lauren bounced up to Juan. "Hey – what have you got?"
Juan smiled. "You mean... drugs?"
"Yes. Whattcha selling?"
"Cocaine. You want some? It will help you get that boy over there you like." Juan pointed out one of the kids Lauren had been dancing beside. "Give you confidence!" Lauren's face fell and she felt he cheeks turn red.
"OK, yes. How much?"
