Wedding Night

looking.
    “Ben!”
    “Just being thorough,” he mumbles.
    “Ben! Stop!” I jerk away. “Do my
back
.”
    “Right.” He blinks a few times, his eyes unfocused.
    “Maybe I should do it myself.” I take the bottle from him and start slathering it on my legs. “Do you want some? Ben?”I wave to get his attention, but he seems in a trance. Then suddenly he comes to.
    “I’ve had an idea.”
    “What kind of idea?” I say warily.
    “A brilliant idea.”
    He gets up and approaches a couple lying on sun beds nearby. I noticed them earlier, at breakfast. They both have red hair and I’m already worried about them burning in the sun.
    “Hi, there.” Ben smiles charmingly down at the woman. “Enjoying your holiday? I’m Ben, by the way. We’ve just arrived.”
    “Oh. Hi, there.” The woman has a slightly suspicious tone.
    “Lovely hat.” He gestures at her head.
    Lovely hat?
It’s the most nondescript straw hat I’ve ever seen. What is he up to?
    “Actually, I was wondering,” Ben carries on. “I’m in a bit of a bind. I’ve got a very important call to make and our room is out of action. Would you mind if I used yours? Just briefly. I’d pop up really briefly. With my wife,” he adds carelessly. “We’d be quick.”
    The woman looks a bit flummoxed.
    “A call?” she says.
    “An important business call,” Ben says. “As I say, we’d be super quick. In and out.”
    He glances at me and gives the tiniest of winks. I’d smile if I weren’t so transfixed with longing. A room. Oh God, we
so
need a room.…
    “Darling?” The woman leans over and nudges her husband. “These people want to borrow our room.” The husbandsits up and stares at Ben, shading his eyes against the sun. He’s older than his wife and is doing
The Times’
s crossword.
    “Why on earth would you need to do that?”
    “For a call,” says Ben. “A really quick business call.”
    “Why can’t you use the conference center?”
    “Not private enough,” says Ben without missing a beat. “This is a very confidential, discreet kind of call. I’d very much appreciate a secluded space.”
    “But—”
    “I’ll tell you what …” Ben hesitates. “Why don’t I give you a little gift for your trouble? Say, fifty quid?”
    “What?” The husband sounds flabbergasted. “You want to pay us fifty quid just to use our room? Are you serious?”
    “I’m sure the hotel would find you a room for nothing,” puts in the wife helpfully.
    “They wouldn’t, OK?” Ben sounds a tad impatient. “We’ve tried. Which is why I’m asking you.”
    “Fifty quid.” The husband puts down his crossword, frowning thoughtfully as though this is a new clue. “What—cash?”
    “Cash, check, whatever you like. A credit on your room bill. Don’t care.”
    “Wait a minute.” The husband jabs his finger at Ben as if he’s suddenly worked it all out. “Is this a scam? You run up hundreds of pounds on my phone bill and give me fifty quid for the pleasure?”
    “No! I just want your room!”
    “But there are so many other spaces.” The wife looks puzzled. “Why do you want our room? Why not a corner of the lobby? Why not—”
    “Because I want to have sex in it, OK?”
Ben explodes. Ican see heads popping up everywhere under umbrellas. “I want to have sex,” he repeats more calmly. “With my wife. On my honeymoon. Is that too much to ask?”
    “You want to have sex?” The wife draws herself away from Ben as though she might catch a disease. “On
our
bed?”
    “It’s not your bed!” says Ben impatiently. “It’s a hotel bed. We can have the sheets changed. Or use the floor.” He turns to me as though for confirmation. “The floor would be OK, right?”
    My entire face is prickling. I can’t believe he’s dragging me into this. I can’t believe he’s telling the whole beach we’re going to do it on the floor.
    “Andrew!” The wife turns to her husband. “Say something!”
    Andrew is silent, frowning for a moment—then looks up.
    “Five hundred and not a penny less.”
    “What?” Now it’s the wife’s turn to explode. “You have to be joking! Andrew, that’s
our
room and this is
our
honeymoon and we’re not having some strange couple going in it to do … anything.” She grabs the room card, which is lying on Andrew’s sun bed, and stuffs it down her swimsuit defiantly. “You’re sick.” She glowers at Ben. “You
and
your wife.”
    Heads have turned all over the beach.