So far, we’ve kinda done everything that we really wanted to do while we were in Santorini.
We haven’t really rushed around the place, and we have intentionally taken our time each day. We really were looking forward to having a real break and kick back for a bit before continuing our adventure, and that is what we have done.
To have a break from your break seems bit ludicrous, but too bad.
I work on the house design a little more, while Bec works on Jodie’s bridal shower.
I don’t think either of us put clothes on till 11am, which is exactly when our host knocked on our door. I am lying butt naked on the bed with the lappy, moving virtual walls around and adding windows etc.
I throw a towel around me, and open the door.
I intentionally chose the towel, cos I wanted him to know that we were still relaxing…
I could tell from his awkward laugh that he knew. He informs us that he was hoping to freshen up the room a little for us, so we decide to just chuck some clothes on and head to the beach for the afternoon, so he has a bit of time to sort the room out.
We tell him to give us half an hour, which he is totally chill about.
We go shopping, and pick up a bottle of wine and a few snacks, then head down to the beach. Bec’s super fascinated by the rocks and the colours and textures here, and finds this fist -sized behemoth which looks like an alien egg. Its cool, but I don’t offer to take this one home for her. We want some where which is going to be under the shade, but still on the sand. We finally find a place on the beach that we are going to pull up at.
We’ve got a spot under the patio-area of a bar. It hangs over the sand, so we just chuck our gear under there and kick back. I begin reading and making my lunch. Bec is sitting there, just lapping up the sun.
We just relax for the next hour or so, sleeping when we feel like it, reading books, drinking wine out of yoghurt cups, eating chocolate, stacking stones as high as we can again, and again I got owned. She got 6 stones high, I could only get to 5 again.
6 stones is my everest.
I will win some day.
We got some sunscreen oil while we were at the shops. It doesn’t make sense to me, but it is oil, and stops burning?? I don’t get it, but we give it a whirl anyway. There is hardly anyone on the beach, so Bec gets her gear off and I give her the massage of her life. Nothing like a 90% naked woman to ensure a bloke does a top job.
She’s been nagging for a massage since Canada.
I wasn’t going to pencil it in.
When it happens, it happens, and right now, its happening.
She tells me that it is literally the best massage of her life. How good is that? I keep thinking that she is just being over-polite, but she keeps saying it. Either she is being over the top genuine and should be an actress, or it was the best, and I am taking the latter.
I am a massage God.
Just ask me.
They don’t call me “Billy, The God of Massages” for nothing.**
After the massage, figure to myself, there is really only one bloke who is ages away on the beach. I’m already down to my undies, so I’m just gonna go ahead and take them off anyway. I’ve go my shorts close by if I really need them. I love the freedom of being naked. Call me weird, but its the best. Its the best part about having your own place is that you can walk around completely starkas, and nobody is going to care.
I get my kit off, and lay back down on the beach. The whole Island is still on lock down, pre-tourist season. Shy of this one bloke a fair way off, we’re the only people on the whole beach. So, I am lying there on the beach, and the coast is still clear, the skies a blue, the birds are chirping…
…and then I hear this noise…
Its faint, so I don’t move just yet. Then, out of nowhere, I hear kid’s foots steps pattering right above us. I mean, I might be naked, but I don’t want public indecency charges. If it sounded like someone older, I wouldn’t care so much, but I don’t want kids being blinded from my white of all white asses.
I am not ready for this.
I know that they could look over the edge and grab a whole mental scarring full of bleach-white ass cheeks staring right back at them at any second. They sound like they are right above me, and I have already teleported right under the deck, huddled next to the rock wall. I am hunched over, hopping on one foot, trying to get my shorts back on, while trying to avoid having to sit my bare ass in the sand and risk finding little sea shells in places they shouldn’t be for the next week.
All my appendages instantly grew their own brains and flew into action, moving in ways that I didn’t realise they were. I’m standing in the fetal position, looking like a gimp, and somehow, I end up fumbling my shorts on, and that is being generous.
The button at the top of my zipper was over near my hip. I don’t exactly think I could say that my shorts were exactly “on”, but they were covering my balls, and that is what really matters right now. I peer from the safety of the deck, and see that the kids are only 6 or 7.
“Oh sweet Jesus”, I say to Bec, “That was lucky…”
She is having a ball watching me try to sort my life out. I’m surprised that she didn’t record it, she found it that funny. I lie back down, but keep my manky undies on instead. I wasn’t even in the nud for more than 5 mins before the kids decided to wreck everything.
We hang around for another half hour or so and make our way home. We sit and play dice, and have our laughs for the night, and head out for dinner. Nothing fancy, its just that the place we are staying doesn’t have a kitchen, so we kinda have no choice. I wasn’t being romantic or anything, it was more necessity than anything else.
We head home, and I blog for a bit, and since I lost a bet while we were playing cards, I had to dry Bec’s hair. She tells me that it is meant to look luxurious and full and you’re meant to look amazing etc. etc. I made her hair look like it should have been the wig for a witch or something. Its all frizzy and all over the place. I dunno what it is meant to look like, so in my ignorance, I tell her that I think it is done.
Her snorts of laughter when she looked in the mirror, told me otherwise.
I did it.
I’m happy to admit it.
Come back for the next story,
** They don’t really call me “Billy, The God of Massages”, in fact, nobody has ever actually called me that