Marie Donovan - My Sexy Greek Summer

Her friend waved a negligent hand. “You will be my eyes and ears. Just some minor details to finish, and if the men do not know you understand Greek, so much the better.”

“Athena…” Cara stood. “I only came to Aphrodisias because you were so sick and I wanted to make sure you were getting better. I wasn’t planning to stay.”

“Do you have a job in America you need to return to?” Athena raised an eyebrow.

Cara paced across the room. Stay in Greece? “No, but I’m taking classes at the university.”

“During the summer?”

“Well, kind of.” Athena gave her one of those baleful black stares older Greek women had perfected. “Well, they start in September, which is technically summer, at least until the twenty-first.” Cara never could lie to Athena.

“September? Pfft. It’s only June. And your friend Emma can stay, as well, unless she has a job.”

“No, she can work on her studies from here.” Cara looked out the window facing the courtyard. Emma was having a ball, sniffing the flowers and laughing at whatever Demetria was telling her. “Summer in Greece?” she murmured.

“It will do you good. Put some color in your cheeks and take that frown off your face.”

Cara made an effort to smile. Poor her. A summer on an idyllic Greek island with nothing to do but help an old, ailing friend. Boo hoo.

“Ah, that’s better.” Athena struggled to her elbows and smiled up at her. “Now come here for a kiss and have Demetria make us some coffee.”

Cara kissed Athena on both cheeks as she was bid and then sneezed. Something dusty was tickling her nose.

“Yia sou,” Athena blessed her.

“Thanks.” Cara sniffled and sought out Emma and Demetria in the garden.

Emma predictably squealed in glee at the idea of a Greek summer but then got a worried look on her face. “Be sure to tell me how much I owe you for rent and groceries, that kind of thing.”

Cara exchanged glances with Demetria. “Don’t worry about the money. We’ll get a deal since it’s a long-term rental.”

“Great!” Emma hugged her and pulled away. “Cara, you have some white stuff in your hair.” Emma brushed it out.

“Probably some dust or sand. So you girls are staying for the summer!” Demetria hugged them and pinched their cheeks again.

“Anything to help Athena.”

Demetria led them into the kitchen and began measuring cold water into the small metal coffeepot. “With you here, I think my mother-in-law will recover faster than you expect.”

“IS THAT TRUE, CARA, what Athena said about Aphrodisias?”

Cara blinked as Emma’s voice penetrated the late-afternoon haze as they stretched out on beach towels on the warm, sun-drenched sand. “Hmmm?” She took off her floppy sun hat and raised her head from where she’d been cradling it on her forearms.

Emma had been lying on her back in a tiny lavender-purple bikini but she’d propped herself up on her elbows. “You know, about the island being a magnet for lovers?”

Cara gestured to the surrounding beach. “It’s a popular vacation spot. People either bring their lovers or find a new one here.” She and Emma were practically the only non-romantic couple there. Pretty girls were snuggling with men, from potential male underwear models to men who should have had their banana-hammock swimsuits confiscated by Greek border security before they even entered the country.

Cara winced at one particularly gray and hairy dude in a neon-orange bikini bottom, the color of a traffic hazard cone. Warning, warning, hazardous materials, stay away…

Emma continued, “Athena said there was more to it than just fun and sun. She said the old ways still hold sway here.”

“I suppose that’s fair to say of many of the islands. Like you asked me before, the blue paint on doors and roofs is to block the Evil Eye, and some of the old gods were folded into Christian customs. That’s probably what Athena meant.”

“Maybe. But while you were in the kitchen with Demetria making coffee, she said that those who have been unlucky in love would always find love on Aphrodisias.”

“What?” Cara rolled onto her side and sat up. “What does that mean?”

Emma shrugged. “Something about Aphrodite taking pity on losers in the game of love.”

Great. Not only was Cara a loser pitied by her friend Athena, but also pitied by an ancient Greek goddess. “Are you looking to get lucky in love here?” Cara sure wasn’t.

“Love?” Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think I’d settle for sex at this point.”

Cara gaped at her usually staid friend, who waggled a finger at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wrapped up one set of my Ph.D. exams and haven’t even been on a date for months. The only men I’ve had any contact with are my happily married academic advisor and a couple fellow students who either want to rip off my work or discuss the Freudenthal suspension theorem in loving detail. So I deserve a little personal time with a man who has more to offer than his perspective on advanced mathematics.”

“If that’s what you want, you won’t have any trouble. Like Demetria said, Greek guys love blond Americans.” Several of the men on the beach, accompanied or not, had noticed Emma reclining on her towel, her bikini a perfect foil for her creamy skin.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but what about you, Cara? Not that you’re unlucky in love—who hasn’t been?”

Cara muffled an ironic snort. Calling her unlucky in love was like calling the Titanic unlucky in seaworthiness.

Emma lifted her sunglasses and looked around. “But Aphrodisias certainly has a nice crop of men. If you don’t find one you like, wait for the next ferry to bring another. And when he leaves, look for a different one. We have the whole summer.”

Cara was momentarily speechless at her friend’s logical approach, and couldn’t help but tease her. “And if we don’t find suitable men here,” Cara went on, “we could always hop the ferry over to Naxos or Paros and search there. Or would leaving the island negate the Aphrodite Effect?”

Emma scoffed. “You’re still not getting into this place, are you?”

Cara shifted and rested her head on her arms so Emma couldn’t see her expression. “It’s lovely, and I don’t mean to rain on your vacation.”

“So don’t. You’ve needed to unwind ever since we’ve met, and this is your chance. Come fall, it’s back to the salt mines.”

Cara couldn’t disagree. She was signed up for a full course load, leaving no time for even thoughts of hot beaches and hotter men. “We’ll see about the men.” Maybe a nice, calm Brit or German would pass through to do a spot of bird-watching or nature photography. She could dip her toe in the water with a guy named Graham or Klaus.

“Although if you’re going to be lucky at love, you’ll need a hotter swimsuit than that.” Emma made a disparaging gesture at Cara’s white terry cloth cover-up and perfectly serviceable black one-piece suit. “Put a skirt on that thing and you’d look like my grandma going to her water aerobics class.”

Cara groaned. “Nice, very nice.”

Emma stretched her arms over her head. “I think I’ve had enough sun for the first day. Like you said, I don’t want to spend the summer crying on the couch from sun poisoning.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have that problem with a swimsuit like mine.” Cara couldn’t resist the gibe.

“Smart off all you want, but we’re going to the swimsuit shop on our way back to the villa.” Emma sat up and reached for her shorts and sandals. “My treat.”

“You don’t need to pay for a swimsuit for me.” Emma was a typical cash-strapped grad student.

Emma stood and brushed the sand off her limbs. “Consider it a thanks for this incredible summer vacation.” She offered a hand up to Cara. “I insist.”

Cara started to protest, but changed her mind. Emma had her pride, and Cara understood pride. After all, how much could a bikini cost?

“ONE HUNDRED twenty-five euros? Are you nuts?” Cara yanked at the spaghetti straps of the turquoise string bikini. On reflection, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Any swimsuit store located half a block from a tourist beach was not going to be a bargain hunter’s paradise.

Emma lightly slapped her hands away from the neck ties. “Come on, Cara, this suit looks amazing on you. The color makes your eyes as blue as the ocean—”

“And my skin as pale as the sand,” Cara interjected.

“So you aren’t tanned to the consistency of saddle leather. I’m telling you, this is the suit for you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“But—”

“The proper response is ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you, Emma.”

Emma pulled her into a hug. “No, thank you. I’m going to look at that hot-pink bikini while you change.” She left Cara in the small curtained changing room.

Cara studied her reflection. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d examined herself closely in the mirror. Once upon a time, she had done practically everything but measure herself with calipers to see how fat she’d been. Which was to say, not fat at all.

And she still wasn’t fat, despite how her former self would have fainted with horror to know how much weight Cara had gained over the past couple years.

Cara shook her head, glad to be past that craziness. Instead, she looked healthy. She pivoted to see her back in the mirror. Her butt looked full but not jiggly under the thin stretch material, and she even had a couple dimples at the base of her spine. She turned to see the front view and cupped her breasts to make sure the two triangles of fabric would be sufficient. Not that that really mattered since no one batted an eye at topless sunbathing. As she adjusted her breasts, her nipples tightened and poked against the fabric. She impulsively brushed one with her thumb and shuddered in pleasure. The suit was too tight, she should have realized. It rubbed all sorts of sensitive areas, her breasts, nipples, especially the strip between her legs.

“Cara? Are you ready?” Emma called. Cara started; she’d been about to slip her hand inside her suit bottom.

“Just a minute.” She hurriedly changed back into her heavy black swimsuit and white terry cloth cover-up. They felt like a muumuu in comparison to the sexy blue bikini. She burst out of the curtained cubicle, suit in hand. “I’ll take it.”

“I’m paying, remember?” Emma plucked it away and set it on the counter in front of the young, dark-haired girl.

Cara turned to the salesclerk. “Do you have it in any other colors?”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “I told you it was a great suit.”

The clerk ambled over to the racks and selected three suits—one black, one yellow, and the last a melon-orange. Emma shook her head at the yellow. “You’ll look like your liver’s acting up with that color. How about the black?”

“I like the melon color.” Cara held it up in front of her.

“You look very nice in that color—most ladies not so much,” the clerk offered.

“She’s right, Cara. It’s great with your hair and the gold trim on the cups and beads on the ties really make it shine.”

Cara took the black one from the clerk, as well. “The blue, the black and the orange.” She reached over to another rack. “And both of these crocheted cover-ups. I think the white one will look nice with the turquoise and the black with the black bikini, of course. And those three pairs of matching thong sandals in American size nine.” The woman scurried around, gathering up Cara’s selections. “Emma, what are you getting?”