Difference between revisions of "Summer Holiday/Prequel."
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Joe looked at his sister. "He looks promising," he said. | Joe looked at his sister. "He looks promising," he said. | ||
"He'd better be after the last one," Jane replied. | "He'd better be after the last one," Jane replied. | ||
"He's twenty-two and good-looking, but not gay and he's never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of weeks. When I spotted him eyeing up the little girls at the pool, I was as sure as I can be." | "He's twenty-two and good-looking, but not gay and he's never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of weeks. When I spotted him eyeing up the little girls at the pool, I was as sure as I can be. One thing's for sure... He isn't very security conscious; someone might have to give him a few pointers if it works out," Jane said. | ||
A few taps on Joe's keyboard and subject No 47 came up on the screen. "He's looking at some skanky hotel in Alicante," he said. "I have sent him an offer he can't refuse. | |||
Francis yawned; Friday afternoon and the beginning of a fortnight of sun, sea and, hopefully, sex. The hotel didn't look great but it was the best he could do on his limited budget. He was about to click 'confirm' when his computer chimed the arrival of an email from a holiday company he'd never heard of. It was a bargain offer for a four-star hotel on the Costa del Sol at a bargain price - all-inclusive and the flights included. Francis was no fool and swiftly checked out the company - it looked okay, with lots of reviews; some terrible and some OTT, but most above-average, so he wasted no more time before clicking OK and sending his details. "Do you want a free taxi to the airport?" the website said. Again, Francis hit "Yes please.” | |||
"We're on," Joe said. He's not too bright - for all he knows we will take his money and vanish." | |||
The next day Francis was just beginning to worry when his doorbell rang. A smart middle-aged lady in a grey uniform stood there. Joe was wearing a floral shirt, baggy shorts and sandals; he looked as if he was already on holiday. "Taxi to the airport, she said with an unmistakable American accent. | |||
Jane offered to help with the luggage but a 15 kilo suitcase and a cabin bag were no problem for Francis. “Ouch!” He said, rubbing his thigh as he lifted the bag into the boot. He twisted round trying to see what had stung him, but it was on the back of his leg. Jane was sympathetic, but looked at her watch meaningfully as she pocketed the small syringe, so Francis, still rubbing, got into the car and they headed for the airport. By the time he got there, he’d forgotten the sting | |||
“It’s done,” Jane said on the phone. “By the time he gets to Spain the kids will be round him like cats on Catnip. Did you sort out the seats?” | |||
Joe sighed. “Yes of course; I’ve got Bob and the family on one side and him on the other. It’s all down to them now.” He cut Jane off and dialled another number. “Hi Dmitry; it’s all done, “he said. The man on the other end said something in Russian and hung up. | |||
'''What do you do?''' | '''What do you do?''' | ||
Revision as of 08:32, 12 June 2019
Joe looked at his sister. "He looks promising," he said.
"He'd better be after the last one," Jane replied.
"He's twenty-two and good-looking, but not gay and he's never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of weeks. When I spotted him eyeing up the little girls at the pool, I was as sure as I can be. One thing's for sure... He isn't very security conscious; someone might have to give him a few pointers if it works out," Jane said.
A few taps on Joe's keyboard and subject No 47 came up on the screen. "He's looking at some skanky hotel in Alicante," he said. "I have sent him an offer he can't refuse.
Francis yawned; Friday afternoon and the beginning of a fortnight of sun, sea and, hopefully, sex. The hotel didn't look great but it was the best he could do on his limited budget. He was about to click 'confirm' when his computer chimed the arrival of an email from a holiday company he'd never heard of. It was a bargain offer for a four-star hotel on the Costa del Sol at a bargain price - all-inclusive and the flights included. Francis was no fool and swiftly checked out the company - it looked okay, with lots of reviews; some terrible and some OTT, but most above-average, so he wasted no more time before clicking OK and sending his details. "Do you want a free taxi to the airport?" the website said. Again, Francis hit "Yes please.”
"We're on," Joe said. He's not too bright - for all he knows we will take his money and vanish."
The next day Francis was just beginning to worry when his doorbell rang. A smart middle-aged lady in a grey uniform stood there. Joe was wearing a floral shirt, baggy shorts and sandals; he looked as if he was already on holiday. "Taxi to the airport, she said with an unmistakable American accent.
Jane offered to help with the luggage but a 15 kilo suitcase and a cabin bag were no problem for Francis. “Ouch!” He said, rubbing his thigh as he lifted the bag into the boot. He twisted round trying to see what had stung him, but it was on the back of his leg. Jane was sympathetic, but looked at her watch meaningfully as she pocketed the small syringe, so Francis, still rubbing, got into the car and they headed for the airport. By the time he got there, he’d forgotten the sting
“It’s done,” Jane said on the phone. “By the time he gets to Spain the kids will be round him like cats on Catnip. Did you sort out the seats?”
Joe sighed. “Yes of course; I’ve got Bob and the family on one side and him on the other. It’s all down to them now.” He cut Jane off and dialled another number. “Hi Dmitry; it’s all done, “he said. The man on the other end said something in Russian and hung up.
What do you do?