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Mediterranean Nights | MaxSebastian | 1

 

Mediterranean: from the Latin for 'middle of the Earth', a calm, azure blue expanse of sleepily lapping surf, tide-less and timeless, the heart of ancient lives and the escape of modern ones. With the copper sun sinking in the lilac sky, Luke Sawyer thought it the most beautiful sight he'd yet seen in all his twenty-four years, though that was just before he had met Heather.

When Heather offered him casual sex, his heart was fluttering like a butterfly in a hurricane. But it wasn't casual sex with her that she was offering back then on his first night beside the Mediterranean Sea. Heather had been Deakin's, the DJ who had talent-spotted him back in London to take a job spinning the wheels of steel in a club on the Mediterranean resort island of Ibiza.

Meeting Heather had not meant winning her. Not at first. The sex she offered Luke was with other girls, not her. He was her pet project, helping him pick up young women from the 18 -- 30 programmes was Heather's way of staving off boredom, since Deakin clearly didn't pay her enough attention.

He was there to deputise for Deakin. He'd be filling in the more difficult hours for the star DJ - the early evening before the dance floor fully filled up and the early morning as it gradually emptied, leaving Deaken to perform at the peak hours without ruining his sleep patterns so much. Luke's sleep patterns would no doubt be ruined, but that was what Deaken was using him for, and so be it. For the career opportunity he was getting, he didn't mind sleeping during the day like a vampire - not one bit.

So here he was, his first time abroad, strolling along the sea front with Heather while Deakin and the club techies set everything up, walking under the palm trees, which fluttered in the gentle breeze as the strong sunlight splashed everything with warmth and everyone with a smile.

"You've never even been on an 18 to 30 before?" she asked, incredulous.

"Never even been out of the country."

"God," she said, rolling her eyes, "you have missed out! But then... what are you, twenty-two, twenty-three?"

Heather was stunning. Slim, spectacular figure, dressed in just a pair of khaki shorts and a pale blue bikini top containing beautifully rounded breasts. Her face was heart-stoppingly pretty, with her big blue eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones and sweet smile, all framed by those long blonde curls that swept down her back in a ponytail.

"Twenty-three," he said, "going on twenty-four."

"So you've not missed everything," she grinned. "Still a lot of partying out there for you, huh?"

"I suppose so," he said, "but I'll be working most of the time - and during the night."

"You'll be DJing," she said with a mischievous smile, "it's not the same as being a waiter, you know."

"It's not?" he asked.

"No," she said, "and I can tell you why in two words."

"Two words?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes all lit up. "Two words."

"Go on, then," he prompted her.

"Guaranteed pussy."

Heather was a really nice girl. She seemed so sharp and intelligent that it made Luke wonder why she was just hanging around with a DJ rather than out running her own business. But he soon found out about her, and the way she had fallen in love with the lifestyle out here in the Med. Because conversation just flowed with her - more so than it ever had with someone of the opposite sex. It was like they connected, like she was made to meet him and share his sense of humour and his interests, too.

It was clear that she was Deaken's. And it was clear that she would only be Luke's friend. So he had no other choice but to accept it. But at the end of their stroll, just before he went in to get ready for his first performance, she had surprised him by reaching between his legs and feeling his cock with her hand. Unsurprisingly, it had already been hard when she felt it.

"Mmm…" she purred. "It's going to be fun being your social manager."

"What?" he asked, the surprise in his voice unmistakable.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? When I said you'd have guaranteed pussy, I meant it. I may not be able to make use of this beauty myself," she said, her hand caressing his erection through his chinos, "but I'm going to guarantee that a steady stream of girls will."

She grinned as he stood frozen to the spot in surprise and wonderment.

"Well go on!" she said, snapping him out of it. "I'll see you later!"

He had Heather's words buzzing through his mind when he entered the club to prepare himself for the evening ahead. The staff were all getting the place ready - sweeping the floor, cleaning the tables dotted around the edge of the place, taking glasses from the various dishwashers to arrange them at the bar.

Deaken wasn't there - but then he said he wouldn't be - so it was the club manager Ron who showed him what was what and helped him wherever it was needed. Nine o'clock arrived, and the music began - Luke was in his element.

"You alright?" it was Heather, virtually sneaking up on him even while the dance floor was so empty.

"Yeah, s'pose so," he said - both of them almost shouting since the music was so loud. Loud: that was a word Luke didn't like - made it sound crap. Intense. That was a better word. The music was intense, so any communication had to be at the top of their voices.

"Not filling up too fast," he said to her, swallowing because of the incredible way she was looking that night - tight, skimpy clothes, perfect make-up - Deaken was such a lucky man.

"It won't really start filling until at least ten," she said, "a lot of people know the main DJ only gets on at eleven. Don't worry - it'll be heaving in no time!"

And it was. Heather disappeared off to do whatever it was she was doing - seeing Deaken, touring the other clubs, Luke didn't know, he just buried himself in the music. So deep did he immerse himself in the interplay of track with track that time seemed to slip through his grasp and the next time he looked up - or the next time that he noticed he did - he was surprised to find that the place was actually pretty full.

So many young people all dancing to the music he was producing - he felt wonderful. It was obvious that there was much booze going round - a shame, they wouldn't appreciate just how complex his mixing was. All the people were between eighteen and thirty, though mostly tending towards the young side of that, and were seemingly pretty frisky, and flirtatious. There were a lot of pheromones flying about the place, plenty of prancing by stag-like males and countless flashes of skimpy underwear from giggling females.

"Hey Mr DJ!"

By the time eleven o'clock was beginning to draw near, he noticed a fair number of girls looking at him, too, and his stomach seemed to catch fire with nervous curiosity - was it true what Heather had said? Was it guaranteed? He wasn't quite sure how he might handle himself if a situation arose - he'd never really dealt with predatory women before.

"Great music, Mr DJ!"

And then a group of fairly inebriated girls clustered around his booth, and he couldn't help smiling as they tried to distract him from what he was doing.

"D'you make music as good as this in the bedroom?"

"Fancy playing with my decks?"

He looked up at them and smiled briefly, but kept his mind on what he had to. Pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. A little sweaty - but then everyone in there was, him included. And they were wearing next to nothing.

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Seeya later!"

They seemed to accept that he couldn't focus any attention on them while he was working, but just before they left, one of them threw something at him - hitting him in the face before dropping to the floor. He didn't have time to see what it was.

Eleven came, and Deaken arrived flanked by the exquisite Heather and a huge case of records. The switch-over was fairly slick, and suddenly Luke had two free hours on his hands.

"What's that?" Heather asked, though he couldn't really hear her over the music. She picked something up from the floor of the booth before leading him away, back out of the club to the sudden chill of the outside air. It wasn't actually cold out there, but after the steamy climate within the club, it almost seemed so.

"An offer already, huh?" Heather smiled. "Pretty?"

"Who d'you mean?"

She grinned and stuffed what had been in her hands - what she'd picked up - into his face: a small pair of white cotton panties. The panties were damp - no doubt from all that dancing and the heat of the club more than anything - but as she pressed them briefly to his nose, he drew in the pleasing scent of womanhood. There was writing on them - black ink - the name 'Kirsty' and a mobile telephone number. It had been one of those girls, no doubt.

"Well, I'm your social manager. Do you want me to call her, set something up?" she asked. "Shouldn't be too difficult."

 

What does Luke say to Heather?


          He tells her to call the girl

 
 
 

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