Like most people, I suppose, my life has been one long journey lined by love, failure, and heartache. I warn you now, these stories, whilst full of love, sex and excitement, will rarely end in a "happily ever after".
This will be my attempt to immortalise my memories, before they fade. As a result, I cannot guarantee the accuracy of my retelling, as my recollection is already rusty.
Like all stories, this must have a beginning. So let us begin with the story of Laura, my first serious girlfriend.
Laura first made her appearance in my life in my last year of highschool, in the form of my elder sisters foreign exchange student, an exotic imported delicacy from faraway France.
Laura was two years older than me, the same age as my sister, and thirsted for an escape from her small, provincial town, where she lived with her mother and sisters in an old Chateau, where the stairs were bowed from the passage of feet and time, and the floors creaked in ancient, dusty voices as you walked.
Laura was about as typically southern French as anyone could be: Her skin was a smooth, glowing olive, her hair like spun dark chocolate, framing her face in elegant shadows. Her eyes, likewise, were wells of melted cacao, sagely but sad. 20 years old, Laura had never had much luck with the boys from her hometown, which held a meagre population of 223. She had hoped for more success in university, but found herself equally disappointed, and so she came into my life an unspoiled, innocent flower. She spoke excellent English, like most well educated French people do, and so decided to go on exchange, and experience some more of the world.
She was of average height, but superbly formed. Her sun-tanned skin flowed like honey over a narrow waist, contrasted by her generous, round yet slender curves, and a finely formed pair of decidedly averagely sized breasts. Her skin had the sort of clarity and silken smoothness that required no makeup, for she wore none, yet naturally appeared flawless. From the moment I saw her, on her arrival from the airport, I knew it'd be a struggle to ignore her. Unfortunately, at the time of her arrival I found myself already in a relationship, albeit one which had not progressed beyond frantic kissing and poorly coordinated groping.
I was 18, and like all 18 year old boys, I was incorrigible. I knew I had the potential to get myself, and her, into a lot of trouble if I didn't keep my distance, however this was initially far easier than you might think. Being in my final year of highschool, I was swamped by school work and otherwise occupied by sporting commitments, which found me leaving home at 5 in the morning, attending school from 9-3, then training till 6pm, and returning home utterly exhausted, and promptly collapsing into a near comatose state. My lifestyle was not conducive to chasing girls, nor for that matter, maintaining a relationship.
As a result, my aforementioned miserably, uneventful relationship found itself crumbling at the most inopportune moment, about a month after her arrival, just as she had begun to grow comfortable with her new surroundings, where she would be spending the next year of her life. Newly single, and still 18, my hormones found themselves unable to ignore the gorgeous invader of my territory, though I saw her very little whilst school was still in session. It wasn't until I had completed my final exams that I had any time to return to the land of the living, and actually get to know Laura, who by this point had found herself very disappointed with her host family. She had no particular issue with my parents, but my sister had grown horrid to her, constantly arguing and berating her.
With all my newly found time, I began to interact more with the timid, shy spectre inhabiting my home, who flitted from room to room avoiding my sister. I often found myself sitting in a room alone with her, talking, learning about her home, learning a bit of French, and generally enjoying her presence. Her accent was deliciously sweet, and to this day I cannot hear a French accent without feeling its effects. Eventually, we grew more comfortable around each other, and I found myself admiring her more and more, and whereas I'd only passingly noted that she was attractive before, now it was all I could see. I would close my eyes and still she would be there, smiling and giggling shyly, her eyes sparkling as she took furtive glances at me from behind loose strands of hair.
After a few weeks of the holidays had passed, my parents decided it would make for a good bonding exercise between my sister, myself and Laura if we were to go on a vacation. And so they attempted to break the news to us. I was keen, having no ill-will towards either beaches, or Laura. My sister however despised both of these things, as only a young girl can, and steeled her will and firmly refused to go. And so my parents plan had failed form the outset, although in the end they press ganged her into the car, and away we all went on a vacation.
Despite the repeated admonitions and frantic protests of my coach, warning of my losses in performance so close to nationals, I decided that I had earnt myself a place in my own families vacation, having juggled school and sport long enough. I was long overdue for some relaxation, time to unwind and destress on the white sand beaches of coastal Australia.
Whilst I already lived a mere 20 minutes from a beach, my family had a longstanding tradition of taking a yearly trip to a particularly exceptional set of islands, where the water flowed clear and blue, azure highways for iridescent fish, elegantly leaping dolphins, shadowy stingrays and scantily clad swimmers. The sand was always fine, warm, and blindingly white, and the air clean and refreshing, even in the summer heat. I was looking forward to returning to our favourite spot, not having realised that for the first time, I'd be locked in a car with Laura beside me for 5 hours. Sprawled out sleeping across the backseat and resting her feet on me, there would be no avoiding her, and with the sweltering heat of the Australian sun beating on the car, there would be no escaping the clinging of her skin against mine as her sweating limbs glued themselves to mine in the tight backseat of our car, which she was determined to use as a bed to the best of her ability.
My mother, unable to secure time away from work, stayed home (to her great disappointment), whilst my sister, pressganged into joining us, sat in the front seat, as far away from Laura as she could manage, headphones in and dead to the world. My dad drove, not trusting me or my sister on a longer journey across country roads, which were often unsealed grave and packed dirt. Laura was wearing a polka dot dress, in a dark navy with small white dots, in a light, flowy fabric for the journey, a very suitable choice in the summer heat. I was wearing light shorts, and a standard tee, and found myself overheating more due to the feeling of her smooth, sculpted calves sitting on my lap, more than the oppressive heat of the sun beating against the windows of the car.
