Free The Pleasure Seekers by Roberta Latow Page A

Laurence and remained there, catching her breath, until Mark appeared, Melina still far behind. Mark had the good grace to slap Arnold on the back. ‘That was some swim, Arnold. Drinks are on me.’
    Mark was a charming loser, too charming; he was always nicest when he was beaten whether it was in a race, a debate at the dinner table, or he had received a rejection letter from a publisher. He was one of those people who could always make you believe he had won, that you were somehow the loser. D’Arcy sat listening,observing Mark. He and Arnold were discussing a friend of Arnold’s who was a frequent visitor to Livakia, at least once a year. Mark was trying to convince Arnold that his friend, a famous screen writer, should stay with Mark when next he came for a visit. ‘Your house is too small. You don’t cook, and the whole place needs painting. He would be more comfortable with me.’
    It was at this point that an exhausted Melina arrived. She dropped down on the sand next to Mark and interrupted their conversation with, ‘Too bad, Arnold.’
    ‘Arnold won the race, Melina,’ Mark told her, and turning his back on her, resumed his conversation.
    He was quite through with her, dismissed her without another thought. D’Arcy could see that the girl was upset that Mark had been beaten by Arnold. Some minutes passed and then in a moment of pique she jumped up, scattering sand everywhere, and asked, ‘Why are you talking to him? He’s nothing. You always tell me that he should be wiped from the earth like a piece of dung, so why do you waste your time being nice to him? What about our swim together, our walk? You are better than him.’
    All this she said in not very educated Greek and spat out so quickly that Arnold could never have understood half of what she was saying. D’Arcy got every word. She saw the pain in the girl’s face, and the disappointment.
    Mark was cool, icy cool, when he answered her without an apology, ‘We had our swim, now I’m with my friends. Why don’t you go find yours, or do some work, or read a lesson? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some work for Arnold? Is that finished?’
    After she left D’Arcy could not help but remark, ‘That girl worships the ground you walk on, Mark. She only wanted you to win.’
    It was at that moment that Rachel arrived, and all conversation stopped as their eyes followed her every movement. Her arrival at the beach was always a mesmerising performance: the shedding of her clothes, making herself cancer-proof against the sun. Today she was bubbling over with enthusiasm. They were opening Jimmy’s house. She had spoken to the maid and Jimmy Jardine was arriving on the island later that day, alone, leaving his rock star entourage behind, his girlfriends, the outside world. He was in retreat, here to meditate and write. ‘I’ve made up my mind – this time I’m going to spend the night with him,’ she announced.
    Everyone looked at everyone else, trying to control smiles, laughter even. Over the years Rachel must have made that statement a dozen times, but she had never been able to accomplish a seduction of Jimmy Jardine.
    The men began to tease Rachel about her inability to seduce Jimmy to her bed. It was Laurence who gave her the tip: something he thought, at the very least, would get her into his house: Jimmy’s serious commitment to Buddhism, his knowledge of Sufism. She must show an interest in that side of his life, let him know that all she wanted was to sit at his feet and talk about those things and what they meant to him.
    The heat and the beauty of Livakia, the pleasures of life, the constant fun, seemed always to outweighany minor unpleasantnesses that flared up there. The Melina-Mark episode of just a few minutes before was forgotten by everyone before the girl had vanished off the beach.

Chapter 4
    D’Arcy had a good knowledge of Crete. She had travelled extensively over most of the 160-mile, roughly oblong island and had