‘Have you heard from that tiger fireman you had a special, adult cuddle with after the Full Moon Party?’ Joe says, gigglingthrough a mouthful of crisp.
I make a face. ‘Yep, and it was gross. I should not have given him my number. He tried to sext me last night – it was hilariously bad. Hold on, I’ll read it to you.’
I pull out my phone and find the message. ‘“Peep this, you naughty bitch,”’ I read aloud in a posh accent, trying to keep a straight face. ‘“I’m horny. Where do you” – spelled with just the oneletter – “want me to put this?”’ I pause dramatically. ‘That’s what he’s written, and then he has kindly attached a picture of his very average cock.’
Joe bursts out laughing as he takes my phone and reviews the image. ‘Stunning. And did you reply?’
I nod, ‘Yes. I wrote: “Hello. Your penis looks a bitherpes-sad.” He didn’t reply. But ugh, Joe, it was such an awkward, crappyone-nightstand anyway. He wanted to have a bath! When are people going to get the message that taking a bath together is not sexy? Especially not in grotty hostels. Like, how do you take your clothes off? When you’re just having normal sex, you can take them off while you’re kissing and that. But he suggested getting in a bath the moment we got back to his place – we’d just walked in the bloody door. It endedup feeling like I was getting ready for bed. And then I accidentally took my bottom half off first, which just made me look like Winnie the Pooh with my belly hanging delicately out of my top.’
Joe spits out somehalf-chewed food, and bends forward laughing.
I sigh, continuing on with mywoe-is-me tale of bad sex. ‘It got even worse when the two of us tried to cram into this small, dirtybath. Of course I got stuck with the tap end because he’s a selfish prick – which I found out later when he made absolutely no effort with my genitals. He seemed to think foreplay is just aggressively rubbing his dick against my leg before sticking it in. And he’s one of those blokes who’s watched way too much porn, so thinks we all want to be called a dirty bitch and sprayed across the face withsticky semen. It’s not like I’m a prude, it’s just so deeply, genuinely unsexy, and also makes such a mess.’
‘Sounds like you could’ve done with another bath afterwards,’ Joe laughs again, squeezing my hand.
I lie my head on his shoulder. ‘Well, I did go back in the bathroom to have a wee after the crap sex, but he immediately knocked on the door. Is there anything more horrifying thansomeone knocking on the door when you’re perched on an unknown toilet? And what are you supposed to say? “Occupied? I’m in here? Sod off, I’m weeing?” I’ve always wondered if there’s a toilet etiquette involved, because mostly I just make a loud frightened noise and fail to wipe myself properly.’
Joe agrees noisily just as Mark stomps in.
‘Shut up whatever you two are saying,’ he shoutsexcitably.
‘That’s not very polite,’ Joe begins teasingly, but Mark cuts him off.
‘No time for politeness, we must pack!’ He is bouncing up and down. ‘We’re going to Koh Chang in the morning.’
‘We are?’ I say, surprised.
‘Yep, we’re going on a retreat.’ He smirks mysteriously, and I know there is more to it.
‘A ... retreat?’ I say, deeply suspicious. ‘Like, withboot-campexercises and a week of eating spinach smoothies?’
Mark snorts again. ‘Something like that, Al. My guru friend runs an Ayahuasca retreat.’
‘Not Gary?’ Joe says suspiciously.
‘Gary the guru?’ I say, my voice high. ‘And what the hell is, er,I-have-a-whisker?’
‘Ayahuasca,’ Mark says with emphasis, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s a tree bark or a vine or something.’
‘Sounds like you’vedone your research,’ I observe dryly.
‘Actually, it’s alife-changing experience, Alice. And isn’t that what you’re looking for from all this?’ he says, grinning. ‘You spend a week hallucinating and vomming everywhere.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ I say sarcastically but feeling intrigued, despite myself. I pause, considering it. ‘But I already did my drug experimentation thing inLA.’
Joehides his smile behind his hand nicely and Mark less nicely throws his head back laughing. It is the sort of deeply unkind, mocking laugh only siblings can get away with.
‘You smoked half a spliff with a dickhead on a beach,’ he exclaims, still unkindly. ‘You cannot call that youronce-in-a-lifetime drug experience. And this isn’t recreational anyway, Ayahuasca is a truly important and spiritualentheogenic brew that will return you to the womb and help you see God and the universe. It’s a deeply respected ceremony – a medicine – used by the indigenous peoples of the Amazon basin.’
‘But we’re nowhere near South America,’ I protest weakly. ‘How did your guru friend even get it over here?’
He nods importantly. ‘Gary smuggled it in up his bum.’
Joe cheers and I reach for thecrisps.
