MONEY TALKS
Rick Haynes
Writing As
The Artful Scribbler
Money Talks - A cynical tale of modern day life.
Digging a deep hole in the sand would quickly prove beneficial, for, with the large parasol in place, I could relax in the welcoming shade.
Job done then; only it wasn’t.
With the sudden increase in wind speed, common on Crete, I had to hang on with all my strength to prevent my bright umbrella from flying away.
Those closest to me were laughing as I struggled to cope. Evil thoughts rushed through my brain as I manfully held on to the pole. Should I let go and watch the carnage unfold as my parasol took on a life of it’s own? Or perhaps I could let it drag towards them before bringing the unwieldy beast to a stop centimeters from their grinning faces?
Choosing the latter option, the canopy edged ever closer and I couldn’t resist a wide grin as the two laughing girls dived for cover. My reassuring smile failed to quell their fears as I slowly took control of the multi coloured beast and brought it back under control. That will teach you for sniggering, I thought.
Brushing off the sand from her tiny bikini the petite blonde drew herself up and poked a finger in my chest.
“You could have killed us.”
The words, drama queen, came to mind.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I had a firm grip on the parasol. It never got near you.” Many inquisitive faces were turned in my direction now. They were looking at the slim girl taking on the long haired monster holding onto a sun shade.
With both hands on her slim hips and her taut breasts trying to explode from their imprisonment, she did look particularly attractive. I tried a softer tone.
“Buy you a beer?”
“Why?”
“It’s the least that I can do. I’m Rob by the way.”
“Molly. That’s my sister, Kaye.”
“I’m happy to buy you both a drink,” I took a casual glance at Kaye, but my eyes quickly turned back to the Venus in front of me.
“I don’t think your mind is on a drink, is it?”
Could she read my thoughts? “It’s only one drink. So what’s the problem?”
Kaye joined her sister. “If you think we are going to have drinks with you at that broken down apology for a beach bar, you are so wrong.”
“Way to go, sis.” Molly chipped in.
It was time to play my ace card. “Who said anything about that crappy bar? Look out to sea.”
I saw two pairs of eyes searching the deep green, two shoulders shrugging and scorn written over two lovely faces.
“There’s nothing out there apart from a couple of rowing boats and that yacht.” Molly sneered at me as if I was indeed a beach bum.
“And the name on the yacht is …”
“Rob Joy!” The two girls spoke as one.
I nodded.
“You mean, it’s yours?” At last, Molly was beginning to believe.
“It’s up to you but my yacht is yours to visit. What do you say?”
Ten minutes later my crew chief arrived with the yacht tender, had given us life jackets, and was now steering his way back to my beloved floating home.
As I looked at their long hair flowing behind them and their lithe bodies alive with excitement, I couldn’t help but notice their infectious giggling. As free as a pod of young dolphins came to mind. I tried, and failed, to suppress a broad grin from crossing my face. This was the life. I wanted to strike up a conversation but my lips refused to open for I, I was thinking.
When you have money, lots of money, it really can buy you almost anything you want.
Happy days.
