Consequences Unforeseen

Puerto Pollensa - Majorca 1973

The Beach Puerto Pollensa July, 1973

The sun was brutal. It dried the sweat on Bill Douglas’s chest as fast as it leaked from his pores. Hell, it was July in Mallorca. - Heaven on Earth at this time of year. Lying on the sand, feet just touching the warm and yet cooler water of the Pollensa bay – God! what could be better than this? He thought. The half naked girl purring gently at his side, the cold San Miguel beer alternately in his hand and at his lips. Bliss!

His mind drifted sleepily on thoughts about the place he had chosen to escape to for some rest and recreation. “Tell no one” he'd convinced himself. “My secret place (discovered years earlier on a teenage holiday in 1968).  No one even recognizes that Puerto de Pollensa exists other than as a drive through on the way to the beaches of Formentor”.

Formentor of the famous blue and transparent water. You can see the crabs and fish through that water as if looking through glass.  At certain times of the late afternoon the bottom becomes pink like the sky and it seems like you’re looking up, not down. 

Back in 1968, he had made much of this beach at Formentor, had swam for hours in its warmth and transparency. He and his pal Davy, had spent all day there, sun bathing, snorkel diving and playing at hunt the crab. At the end of a glorious day, and thirsty as it is possible to be, they had done the obvious and stopped in the Puerto itself.

By the time they reached the town, the sun had been setting, huge, mind numbingly huge, and very red.  It was beautiful!  The bar they found faced the small Pollensa harbour with its combination of fishing boats and sharper holiday craft.  It had a wonderful, gently sloping beach on the other side of the breakwater and he noted that it was a mere three hundred yards from the table they were sitting at.  His eye for detail also subconsciously observed that this haven was protected from any sudden or quirky North breeze by a ridge of “mountains” a mile out. This place was God's country he decided right there and then. The first two beers never touched the sides!

On a whim, and after several more San Miguels, both boys decided to see if the bar had any rooms, and on the positive response decided to stay the night there. Two rooms – ah yes - always two rooms. They were on a mission to deflower as many Spanish virgins as possible in their two weeks of freedom from the ties of responsible behaviour.

Now reaching over to stroke the belly of the beautiful and sleeping Heather, he recalled how the bar those same 300 yards away had quenched his thirst for illicit beer and sexual exploration those 5 years ago, and it was still here now unchanged over those years and the 100 or so before them..

The owner had glanced at him this morning and the eyed the topless and lovely small breasted girl on his arm the way only an old Spanish guy can, and still get away with. A lecherous  look with one eyebrow raised and  a twinkle in the eye that says “I'd love to take her away from you and make love to her, but I admire your taste even more, so I won't do what I could (being Spanish and therefore a far superior lover than you), and I will leave her to you alone”.

He had eyed her for only a second or two, glancing back at the fit and smiling young man. Slowly recognition dawned and he grabbed an old and discolored photograph (from amongst hundreds) off his wall behind the bar and said in excited local dialect, “fuck its you, you bastard, come back to haunt me again” and he laughed and jumped round to hug the two of them, all lecherous thoughts gone now. Only genuine laughter and pleasure that the rogue 17 year old had come back as a grown adult. “Maria, Maria come here and see who's in our Pollensa for the love of God.” 

Twenty year old Maria, (God she was) dark haired, full breasted and stunning had stuck her head out of the kitchen hatch and immediately broke into a huge smile with cheeks blushing incredibly as she recalled her virginity lost. If the old man had realized this one salient fact, then no doubt the welcome would have been a different affair.