Fiction by HS Quarmby
I tried, I really did. I gave myself pep talks, I wore unattractive underwear, did not shave my legs, but in the end, I spectacularly failed at my long distance relationship.
It was easy to kid myself when I set off traveling, leaving my boyfriend behind, that it was all going to be okay. Yes, I would miss him, but we would chat online, I wouldn’t be tempted, and when I came back it would all be the same. It would all go back to normal.
But normal is not really a thing when you are traveling. You see, I did love my boyfriend. Well, I thought I did, but it was in a warmth-in-bed-at-the-end-of-the-day, helps-bring-the-shopping-in, chats-to-my-Nana kind of way. And somehow that love is easy to forget. It just evaporates when you are faced with a tanned, muscular man who leans close to you whilst you discuss and compare your adventures one tipsy night in a hostel, where the cheap wine flows and the warm breeze moves his unbrushed hair.
His chest was muscle clad and covered in tattoos that his t-shirt was unable to hide. His wrist was circled in leather. He was very different from my normal type, but as we talked and laughed, I realised I was not the old me anymore. I was a traveler, a foreigner in a strange land. I had had adventures!
I turned my head to show off my newly pierced nose and he suggested we go to the beach to watch the moon light on the waves.
What's wrong with that? I asked myself. It was a totally innocent request, no obligations, nothing, just a walk on the beach in the dark with the full moon rising over the pacific, a sexy guy at my side.
The pebbles were cold and hard under my bare back but all I could feel was the warm weight of muscle above me, grinding away all my good intentions.
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Young and innocent I left my small home town in England to go travelling and I don't think I have stopped yet. Currently in France, I write about my travels, experiences and the fictional stories inspired by them. You can read a full selection of these on HSQuarmby.wordpress.com.