A KISS TO DIE FOR
A KISS TO DIE FOR by RICK HAYNES
Kissing Cindy was an experience to relish. She’d always wrap her arms around me, before crushing her large boobs into my chest. But this would be the precursor to the main course. As the crushing continued, her strong perfume would intoxicate me making my breathing difficult, but did I care?
Wearing a long dress of purest white silk and high heel shoes, she entered the main bedroom, blew me a kiss, and lay on the soft double bed.
She beckoned me to join her, and as usual, I complied, but this time I circled the bed of my sexy lady before joining her. Her lips were hot red, crimson even, and I knew she was expecting a long kiss. Naturally, I obliged. And as usual, our passion boiled over and we were carried away on a tidal wave of happiness.
To Cindy, making love was the perfect way to unimaginable pleasure, and who was I to disagree for my needs were just as strong as hers.
I awoke in the morning to the scent of my lover as she kissed me softly on my mouth. We drank coffee together as she showed me a brochure about the magical island of Crete. Our next holiday, she told me, as she waved the airline tickets high into the air.
And within the week, we were swimming naked together in a secluded bay in Southern Crete. The sea was warm, the sand hot, and the locals were nowhere to be seen. It was heaven, but where was that chugging sound coming from?
We thought nothing of it but soon after a small weather-beaten boat appeared from around the headland. Laughing loudly like naughty children, we quickly dressed and waited.
As the boat beached on the golden sands four women jumped down and walked toward us. The one with the most lines on her face spoke first.
“This is sacred ground. Why are you here?”
But before we could answer the chanting began. As it was in Greek, we didn’t have a clue what they were chanting, but from the looks on their faces, it was time to move.
“We are sorry,” Cindy spoke softly. “The bay is so beautiful, irresistible, so we apologise if we have upset you. And now we will go, to leave you in peace.”
The eldest woman strode across the sands and poked Cindy in the chest, twice. “You kiss man on sacred beach many times. This beach for women only. You stay but he must go.”
“Now wait a minute, lady, we will go together and that means now. Goodbye.” I was face to face with the old hag for she had moved to stand in front of me to block my way up the cliff. It was time to leave so I didn’t hesitate. I eased past the crone and held Cindy’s hand tightly as we moved towards the path leading upwards to the sanctuary of our hire car.
Once more on the edge of the cliffs, and out of breath from the long climb, we held each other tight, kissed softly, and moved towards the car. We stopped in our tracks and I cursed loudly as all four tyres had been deflated. Cindy was crying like a baby whereas I was shaking with rage. Alas, our predicament worsened as three other women, dressed all in black, emerged from behind some large pale rocks each holding a long stick in their hand.
The oldest woman spoke to me in perfect English. “Mother says she must stay and you must go. You have water in car, enough to take you to the village, one hour walk that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction from the one we had chosen, before putting her wrinkly hands on both hips.
“No way,” Cindy screamed. “My husband, Freddie, will go with me, get it.”
“And anyway, what makes you think you can stop us?” My voice was loud, my pointing hand threatening, but the trio didn’t even flinch. As plan A hadn’t worked, I tried a softer, more gentle approach. “We mean you no harm, so move away and we’ll leave you in peace.
Their stares were turning into anger; the snarls on their faces told us this wasn’t going to be easy but we had to try. Grabbing our water bottle from the car in one hand and holding Cindy’s hand in the other, I pushed our way through the menacing women and we started to walk in the direction of the village.
I heard a squeaky noise behind us.
Part of my brain said do not turn around whilst the other part told me I had to know.
I looked over my shoulder and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Two men on rusty bicycles were riding toward us. With their long beards, shabby clothes, and faces with more wrinkles than dried prunes, they looked more dead than alive. As they withdrew long daggers from their belts and waved them in the air, Cindy screamed.
“Run!” she screamed again.
My heart was pounding as I looked around for an escape route, anywhere for us to be safe, but it was pointless.
"Where to, lover?”
“I don’t know,” Cindy sobbed.
Neither do I, I thought, as several options quickly raced into my head before vanishing just as quickly.
I held her hand tightly as we waited.
Our fate was in their hands.