Wendy was stunned. She had just heard the unbelievable.
Yet, as her eyes rolled over the shore, as they touched upon what the owner of the Hotel called ‘bungaboys’ she knew it was true.
Women of all shapes and sizes, ages and complexions, came here, to this island, to all inclusive hotels not for the sea or the sun, but for sex. Sex with a guy who might be ugly, illiterate, but would ‘belong’ to that tourist as long as she paid the bill.
The owner indicated various ‘crews’ of ‘bungaboys’ as they slipped about the shore. What looked like tourist harassment to Wendy was actually men on sale.
“They won’t bother you, and you can enjoy the facility.” The owner said.
“If I want to leave, can I have a refund?”
“Of course. But I can tell you this, if you want to be on your own, and enjoy the beach, you have to book into a ‘family’ all inclusive, which has lots of kids. The bungaboys aren’t there.”
“Do you have one like that?”
“Yes, about five miles East we have one… do you want me to make arrangements to move you? Of course over there, you’ll be alone. No possibility of meeting anyone…”
“So my choice is either stay here, but be avoided by those bungaboys and maybe meet people to talk to, or go over there and be surrounded by children?”
“Pretty much so…”
“I think I’ll take a refund and go home.”
“Book your flight and then come to me.”
“Thank you.” Wendy said.