Love-Slave to the Sheikh

"WHAT a total waste of time," Samantha muttered as she threw her bag onto the back seat of her four-wheel drive, then slammed the door shut."And a total waste of money,'she added to herself, after she'd climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine.Her only consolation was that she didn't have a too-long drive in front of her. The distance from Williamstown airport to the upper Hunter Valley was considerably less than the journey from Sydney airport. Only a one-and-a-half-hour trip as opposed to at least three.Still, as Samantha angled the vehicle out of the car park and headed for the highway, her sigh carried frustration and disappointment. She should never have listened to Cleo. A five-day package holiday at a Gold Coast resort -- regardless of how hip-hopping the place was -- had never been going to find her a boyfriend, either long term or short term.The wildly romantic notion of meeting the love of her life at such a place was just that: a wildly romantic notion.The possibility of having a holiday fling hadn't been high on the chance meter, either. Samantha just wasn't the sort of girl to pick up some handsome hunk who'd treat her to a few nights of wining and dining, followed by the kind of sex women dreamt about but rarely enjoyed.Oh, she was presentable enough to attract some male attention these days, especially after Cleo had dragged her off last week to a beauty salon in Newcastle to have her long mid-brown hair streaked blonde and her naturally thick eyebrows plucked into elegantly slender arches. It had also helped that she now owned a few attention-grabbing outfits which made the most of her tall, athletic figure; Cleo had taken her clothes-shopping as well.Samantha had to admit she'd looked pretty good these past five days.Several guys had approached her, both around the pool and at the restaurant bar every evening.It was her manner, she knew, which had quickly put them off.She'd never mastered the art of flirting. Or of idle chit-chat. Or of sucking up to male egos.Over the years she'd been constantly told by her girlfriends that she was too blunt. Too opinionated. Too assertive.The truth was she didn't know how to act all girlie. She'd never learned, never had a feminine role model during her formative years.Samantha had grown up in an all-male household, with four brothers who'd taught her how to be one of the boys. She'd learned to play sport like a boy and stick up for herself like a boy -- with her fists. She'd never learned to defer to the male sex. Oh, no. If she'd done that in the Nelson home she'd have spent all her days in tears, trodden into the ground by her highly competitive, testosterone-fuelled brothers.So she'd competed with them, and often beat them. Not smart, her girlfriends at school had often told her. Definitely not smart.Samantha had come to agree by the time she graduated. She hadn't had a single date during her high school years, let alone a steady boyfriend. She'd had to be escorted to her graduation ball by one of her brothers.Admittedly, back then she'd been rather gawky-looking. Very tall and skinny, with no bust to speak of. Her extra short hairdo hadn't helped, either. Neither had her lack of flair with clothes and make-up.By the time Samantha had entered Sydney University to do a veterinary science degree she'd just about given up on getting herself a boyfriend. Her love of animals -- horses in particular -- had filled the empty space in her heart. She'd paid for her higher education by working as a stablehand at a nearby racing stables.University, however, Samantha had soon discovered, had a different code of sexual behaviour from the rest of the world. Not too many girls -- even the plain, nerdy ones -- finished their degrees as virgins. Most of the male students treated sex as a challenge and a sport. The more notches on their belt, the better. They didn't much care what their conquests looked like, or how they actedLee, Miranda is the author of 'Love-Slave to the Sheikh ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373125562 and ISBN 0373125569.