This was a safe gig. It was late in the season and there were not many tourists left - only the rest of the rich.
They came - the rich - to soak up the last of the sun. They soaked up anything that money could buy, bored of talking nothing to everyone before returning to London or Paris for a long European winter of cold and loneliness.
The minders were at ease, despite being dressed in black in the mid-day sun, and looking forward to a fresh lunch when “Madam” finished her swim. There were worse jobs. Being two made this gig even easier. They were there, but nobody would see them, not unless you were looking for them. Two invisible friends, they thought. They were ever present. Her big, bad babysitters. They had known each other a long time. Had shared many a bed together. And they actually quite liked the little tart. She could be nice, sometimes.
She wasn’t a bad girl. And she actually wasn’t that spoiled. Oh, she was rich and had money, but she was always polite to them and usually did as they said. Usually. Easy going was how they would describe her. And of course, they knew, that “that” is how she would describe them - it was the type of thing they were paid to know. And they were good. The best. She was a nice little tart.
Anatalya was safe. Turkey was theirs. BB. Basically British. When the Queen sneezed, the Turks squirmed. The little bitch was out in the water. They laughed at the thought of her burning her pretty little arse on the hot stones of the beach when she got out of the water. There were no sandy beaches in Turkey. Not even for people like Julia.
She glided through the water, feeling it wash over her face, warmed by the sun . She was lying on her back, floating. When she closed her eyes she could disappear.
Julie tasted the salt on her lips as she lay there and floated. The water was warm as she looked at the sky. Water ran into her pretty ears. Blue sky with delicate white clouds watched as she floated carefree on the salty water. She imagined that the clouds were watching her. It turned her on.
Oh, how she wished she could fucking disappear! Be free. What Karma had she created to be born into this life, this father, that mother. No siblings. Watched over by monkeys in suits.
Her minders were on shore, as usual. Hiding in some bar somewhere, no doubt, she thought. They were ever present. Her big, bad babysitters. They were near her twenty four hours a day, three hundred and sixty five days of the year. Near but not in her face. But she knew, they were always there. Julia thought she knew everything. That was about to change.
She knew they were watching her boobs. She stuck them out, even more. Not their fault, she thought. After all, she did have rather lovely boobs, and her bikini was rather small. Tiny, actually, she thought. Then she giggled. She could feel her nipples getting harder. God how she loved that feeling!
Still, she imagined putting a gun to their heads and pulling the trigger. She giggled again at the thought. Blood would go everywhere, no doubt about that. They made her sick. Paid to protect her and all they did was watch and lust. She was sure they would have a good wank after today, but they would never get inside her pussy.
She was a nice girl. Always had been. Made her fucking sick, her father being who he was and she couldn’t get a fucking gun? Well, what a joke, she thought. Salt water ran into her mouth through her perfect white teeth.
She had been here for a whole week. She was staying at a small hotel which was only 100 meters from the beach. Small but very expensive, exclusive enough to keep out anyone who was not really rich. It was out of the way and close to food and shops, but for Julie the most important thing was the beach and the sea. She loved to swim.
She eat in a five star restaurant a few miles away, a grand old restaurant built on the top of a hill, overlooking the sea.
On this day, she had woken up early. She had eaten a light, five star breakfast in her room and hurried down to the beach. She loved the sea. Loved the smell of it. Loved the taste of it. Loved the saltiness on her skin as she lay drying in the sun afterwards. She loved the feeling of the hot sun on her nipples when she took her top off. She swore she could feel the salt drying. But most of all she loved the isolation. When she was out in the water she was just a body like all the others. A small blob of nothingness in the vastness of the sea. There was nobody talking to her, listening for hidden meaning in her words, nobody taking photographs, well, these days that could not be counted out. Still, she could be herself, or what passed for it. Even her minders could not really disturb her
they stayed on shore. She did wonder what they would look like in swim-wear. Would they have huge, suckable cocks? Jeez she hated herself when she thought like that. Much better was to be alone. Totally alone!
But today she was not alone. For some strange reason she was thinking about Ax. She decided that he had been one of her better lovers, even if he was totally strange and at times distant. Maybe it was the way the waiter had looked at her tits as she bent down to sign the check for breakfast? Maybe he had seen her pussy, too? Maybe he was now in a staff room imagining where his tongue could be, slippery. Maybe this was driving her thoughts? Not sure. But, Ax? She could see him in her head, quite clearly, almost as clearly as the men on the boat could see her.
She felt herself getting warm between her legs just thinking about him. So she turned briskly on to her stomach and started to swim hard. She was a good swimmer. A strong swimmer. She had competed as a child in the inter school championships and had always won her heat. She turned again onto her back and her lithe body slipped through the water like a dolphin, a sleek, sexy dolphin. Her minders watched her almost lustfully as her boobs popped in and out of sight.
They, like she, had no idea that her life, and theirs, was about to change forever.
Enough of Ax. She thought about her father, spat out some more water, turned and turned again to float on her back again. He was, of course, someone with lots to say. But if you asked her? He had nothing to say that she was interested in hearing.
He was a politician. A man who talked. Talked a lot about nothing. And who knew how to talk to the right people. Thus he was a successful politician. Secretary for the Defence, no less. Wow, she thought. Hip, hip, fucking hooray.
A wave tried to turn her over. She flipped and came back to where she was, bobbing like an empty plastic bottle - powerless against the waves, feeling their superior force, wondering what it would be like to slip out of this life into the sea. She thought of the song, “Crying in the Rain.” She thought of the film “Le Grand Bleu” and wondered if dolphins were watching her.
She wondered if the sea counted as rain.
She thought about her minders, her bodyguards. Would she feel the salt if they fucked her in the sea?
They watched her twenty four hours a day, her big, bad babysitters. Three hundred pounds and three hundred and sixty five days of the year between them. Near, but not in her face. But she knew, they were always there. One smelled of garlic. The other of nothing particular. Sperm, perhaps. An old musty smell that reminded her of, something.
Both gave her the creeps. She imagined one holding her down while the other licked her wet cunt. His head would be bent, as would her back. The other would be looking at her hard nipples.
The water was warm and she lay on her back floating effortlessly in the salt. Shards of sunlight stabbed at her eyes and she watched the seagulls or whatever they were floating in the air.
She laughed and then shouted. “Fuck you all!” Salty water poured into her open mouth through those expensive, perfect white teeth and she spouted it out again, trying not to laugh. She was sure the seagulls or whatever they were could hear her for they were laughing back at her.
For these few moments she was able to forget who she was and who her father was and what he did for a living. And her fucking mother.
There were many boats in the sea that day. Most of them far out, looking like toys in
the distance. The occasional powerboat with water-skiers bouncing on the waves, the occasional tourist coming in from his mega yacht moored in deeper water like his soft cock sunk into the deep wetness of his latest eastern-European girl. Funny how in books they are always Eastern-European. Czech, Polish, Estonian and Latvian, Ukrainian? . Never Americans.
Nobody noticed the low, sleek powerboat heading straight for Julie, moving slowly, almost gliding in the water.
She thought of her dead mother. What a waste of space, she thought. Food for her father at a young age. Married. Then dead to gin, aged 42.
She was lost in these thoughts as she felt strong hands around both of her arms and was pulled backwards into the boat. Someone must have shoved a bag or something over her head because all of a sudden her world went black. She screamed. Screamed as hard and loud as she could. A strong hand slapped itself around her neck, squeezed tightly. She started to choke. A prick, a needle, in her upper arm. Sounds slid away as the drug began to work, and her body slumped unconscious to the floor.
Engines gunned, the boat turned swiftly and powered at speed straight out to sea. One of the big, bad babysitters watched helplessly, in shock, while the other hit
speed-dial on his phone.