The heat blistered and the light breeze was pleasant, except when it picked up a mild pungent smell of dead bluebottles that lined the shore. A few here, and a few there. They probably blew in overnight; no-one seemed to be getting stung in the water. Zach popped a few with his feet, avoiding the stinging tentacles like he did as a kid.
As the crowd hustled around Paris (in Sydney, not France), Zach and Marty were getting drawn in. There were many beautiful girls around but never in his wildest dreams did Zach think he would be so close to Paris. He became a little star struck. When he caressed the back of her arm her skin was so soft to touch. ‘What are those stylists doing giving her these huge sunglasses?’ he thought. ‘They make her look like a blowfly!’ Then, to his surprise she reached out and took his hand. They embraced. He gladly tore the sunglasses from her face and threw them in the water. Gently he began to kiss her, applying a little more pressure to her lips; waiting to feel her respond. She did. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around him and they fell to the sand. The crowd made a huge space around them – it kind of reminded Zach of the time he and Marty got into a fight at school as kids.
She was a tiger. He tore off her clothes – what little there was of them – and threw them into the water that lapped up against their feet. They started making love and he could feel beads of sweat on his face. The build up was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Pain crept up his legs and tormented his back. ‘Is she digging in her nails?’ he wondered. ‘Feels like she is drawing blood.’
Then he heard Marty’s voice saying,
“Zach are you OK? Are you with us mate.”
“I’m fine. Wait for me at the pub!”
Then he felt water thrown over his face and came around, finding a life-saver pouring vinegar on his legs.
“What happened?” asked Zach
“Man, you got too close to Paris. One of her security guards knocked you out and you landed in bluebottles.”
“Oh, that sucks, we were like holding hands and everything.”
Zach’s skin was in welts and it was some time before they made tracks.
“You feel like a drink?” asked Marty.
“Yeah, let’s grab a beer,” replied Zach.
They went to North Bondi RSL.
“I’m grabbing a VB, what’ll you have?” asked Marty.
“I’ll try one of those Bondi Blondes,” said Zach. “I’ve suffered this much. Might as well try one.”
Zach tried one, then two. They were low carb, so eight, then nine. It was a nice afternoon to just sit around drinking. The place was full of babes. Marty came back from the bar with the next round and found Zach slouched over his beer bottle, gently peeling off the label and caressing the neck of the bottle which was covered in condensation.
“Mate, I think this is the last round. It’s water and coffees for you mate.”
’That’s so typical of Marty,’ thought Zach. ‘He thinks I can just switch from one to the other.’
What Marty didn’t realize was how far this Bondi Blonde had drawn Zach in. They all draw you in – in the end.
Typical day in Bondi, really…