Zzokk! I saw the girl's fist coming but my already downward descent could do nothing to avert it crashing into my face. At her surprise entry into my room, I'd leapt from the bed, my pyjamas around my ankles and the erection I'd been playing with, leading the way, I sort to push her out but my toes temporarily caught under the edge of the bedside rug and with my hands trying to pull up my pyjama trousers, I couldn't avoid falling and my face taking the full force of the impact as it hit the hard, wooden floor. When I came to, a few students and hotel staff stood by my side and the girl who'd hit me had a handful of toilet paper trying to staunch the flow of blood from my nose and repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't intend to hit you." They told me I'd been unconscious for several minutes and still not fully aware of my surroundings, I knelt but felt too shaky to stand.

"Clean him up a bit girl and wipe the blood from the floor, you can both then spend the night in the cells and sort your differences out there. We don't tolerate unruly British students fighting in the hotel rooms." Glancing up I saw the officious Greek hotel manager who'd introduced us to the rules when we arrived, looking at me with distaste; he turned and spoke in his language to the two, uniformed security personal waiting behind him and then left, ignoring the ineffectual protests from fellow students.

By then my right eye had started to close, my face had swollen and blood poured from my nose but the security people had no sympathy for my plight or the fact that I could hardly stand, let alone walk unaided to the cells in the basement. With sharp orders in Greek interspersed with a smattering of English, the girl, Janice Price had to support me and several times when I almost collapsed on the worn, stone steps, the guards chivvied her along. The blood flowing from my nose soaked through her blouse and on to her breasts and stomach until we looked like survivors from a major war. I could do nothing to save her clothing because I needed her support and the guards wouldn't let us sit and rest.

Both cells already contained a drunken British student but they put them in one cell and us in the other, to the security guards we were another example of the rowdy students that stayed at the hotel. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Crying, Janice sat me on the one bed, and apologised over and over again but even then I realised it wasn't her fault. I tried to tell her that I understood but found it too difficult and painful to talk and just sat as still as I could, afraid that moving my head might make me sick. All the while Janice continued to support me with an arm around my shoulders and my head resting on her neck, but I could sense that she too, felt extremely nervous and afraid of what might happen to us. In other circumstances I would have enjoyed being this close to a girl of my own age, but at the time, it was a nightmare.

With one eye half open I slowly looked around our abode for the night; a typical prison cell with a bunk having a thin mattress without any covering or a pillow, a washbasin and a toilet without a seat. Obscene graffiti decorated the painted grey walls. The entry 'wall' consisted of iron bars with what appeared to be a massively oversized lock reminiscent of western movies and probably dated from the 19^th century and this allowed us to see into the corridor but not into our neighbouring cell. My head throbbed unmercifully, the room spun round and once when she'd released me to wet a paper towel, I toppled over and lay on the bunk. Fortunately the nose bleeding had eased to a trickle but from the pain, I rightfully guessed the impact with the floor had broken it. For a while I zoned out and only vaguely felt Janice lay alongside me.

"What are you going to do when the end of term exams are over, Kevin?" Colin Redman, my roommate asked.

"I don't know, visit my parents I suppose, look for some work to bring in a little money over the holiday."

"Did you see that advert on the notice board for Greek Student Tours. It's for students in the eighteen to twenty-two age group and the price seems reasonable. You might find yourself a girlfriend or lose your virginity to some dusky Greek maiden ... or boy!"

I hadn't seen the advert but looked at it later and got a copy of the brochure. It offered a two-week holiday on a Greek island staying in a small, three star hotel converted from its previous use as the local police station and providing half board accommodation with others in a similar age group. A boy at the college organised the trip and at the last minute I booked. What a disaster it turned out to be.

Nineteen from college decided to go and I always seemed to be the odd one out, largely I'm sure due to my shyness and the fact that most of the others were from English and Geography type courses; no one I knew from my engineering studies and Colin didn't go because he already had a job lined up. I sat by myself on the bus to the airport, had a seat next to a fat old man on the plane and stayed alone on the trip across mainland Greece and on the ferry to the island. Amidst a crowd of people, I felt very much alone.

At the reception meeting the Greek hotel manager explained the rules, "We know young boys and girls of your ages will want to have sex and the hotel acknowledges that and will turn a blind eye to who sleeps with whom but it must all be consensual and no forcing or rape. We also know that with the cheap booze available on the island, some of you will drink more than you should but provided you behave yourselves and don't mess your beds or rooms, we won't worry, but, as you should have read in the brochure, we have a couple of the original police cells in the basement, the locks are in full working order, and the cells are equipped and ready for occupation, and we'll use them, as we have done on many previous occasions, to house drunken and abusive students until they are sober enough to return to their rooms. The accommodation in the cells is primitive to say the least and it is rare for students to return to the cells later in their holiday." Being a quiet student who rarely drinks alcohol, I never suspected I'd end up in one.

I'd seen Janice on the journey, always in the company of her bossy, outgoing, older sister, Carol, and two other girls and their boyfriends; a group in which she seemed out of place. They tended to be extroverted and fashion conscious and flirted outrageously with the boys and I assumed they went further when alone together; Janice's rather dumpy figure, her plain hairdo and 'ordinary' clothes, set her apart from them and I suspected they kept her as a servant to fetch and carry for them. While I secretly watched her and noticed that she didn't have a boyfriend, I did wonder if we had any chance getting together, but never plucked up the courage to go and speak to her and only fucked her in my imagination when I wanked myself before going to sleep. Lying almost naked on the hotel bed with my eyes shut, I was doing just that when the bedroom door burst open and her sister pushed her into the room, "You can stay here for the night, Jan, keep him company and then Peter and I can do what we want without you looking on."

Carol ran back down the corridor and, as I heard the footsteps fading in the distance, I swung my legs off the bed and started to pull my pyjama trousers up. Looking very frightened, Janice stood still only a few feet away, her fists clenched ready to ward off any attack and screamed for help at the top of her voice. My moving off the bed and the sight of my erection, sparked her reaction, although she afterwards insisted that she only intended pushing me away, my unanticipated tripping over the mat, caused her fist to forcibly hit my face. I believe her. The noise and Jan's crying, brought others into the room, including the manager and his security guards.

The hard mattress didn't allow me to put my face on it even on the less swollen side, without further pain and if I laid on my back, blood ran into my throat and I started choking, but when I sat up the cell span round and round. Eventually I vomited but managed to crawl to the toilet in time and afterwards Jan sat me back on the bed and although I tried to apologise, the words were difficult to form because of my swollen face and mouth. A guard came by and Jan pleaded to get some help but he either didn't understand or didn't want to know. Another hour went by before a different guard checked on us. "Help, he needs a doctor, medicine. Help, help, doctor, medicine. He's sick, ill." Her tearful pleading went on in this manner for a minute or two while the guard peered through the bars muttering a few words we didn't understand. Five or ten minutes later he returned with a woman dressed in her nightgown.

"Hello, I'm Helen, I'm a nurse and I work in the hospital during the day and look after emergencies here at night," she spoke good English and explained that she'd done her training at a London hospital. After examining me and gently touching my face, she spoke sharply to the guard in her own tongue and told us, "He will take you to your room and I will visit you there and bring some medical supplies with me. Sit him in the shower Jan, you too by the looks of all the blood on you, but no sex until his head is healed. You can tell me how this all happened later so I can put it in my log book." A look of shock went across Jan's face when Helen suggested she shower with me but she gave a little shrug when Helen mentioned the no sex caveat. In any case, I'm sure she realised I was in no fit state to harm her and after Helen's visit, probably thought she needed to be a nurse too. She certainly needed a shower too.

The guard almost had to carry me up the stairs but finally I got into the room and when he'd left, Jan shyly helped me off with my blood soaked pyjamas. Unfortunately I wasn't in any condition to return the favour but at least I got to see her naked, the first naked woman I'd seen close to, even if I could only open one eye and that only part of the way. We were still in the shower when Helen arrived and, shock, took over the drying of me including my semi-hard prick, while Jan dried herself. "I'm sorry, this is going to hurt," Helen apologised, "But it is better done now rather than later." I cried out when she tweaked my nose back into alignment but the pain quickly eased and she turned her attention to Jan's hand. Only now did I notice the bruise and the scraped knuckles. "Put boxing gloves on next time you hit him," Helen laughed and I tried too, but couldn't. With the pain killers she gave me and the sleeping pills she gave both of us, we slept until nearly nine the next morning.

"I'm sorry, Jan, I only heard when we went down for breakfast." Carol bursting into the room woke us, "Jesus, that was some fight." We kept the bedclothes pulled up to our necks to cover our nakedness until eventually she brought Jan's clothes, all of them including her case and toiletries indicating that she expected her to stay with me, or at least, out of her way. I could tell Jan still felt unsure of that but less so than last night. Feeling much better after having a good nights sleep but embarrassed at Jan seeing my nudity and my morning woody, I made my way, still rather unsteadily, to the toilet and looked with horror at the image in the mirror. It showed the whole of one side of my face and my nose sporting vivid bruise colours and I wondered how long they would take to fade and if I'd go back to Uni looking with my face in a mess. I didn't dare attempt shaving. Jan dressed while I performed in the bathroom but she again saw me naked when I returned to the bedroom, fortunately without an erection, to slowly and carefully put on my own clothes.

"You are to visit the clinic at 10:30, a car will take you there and bring you back," the manager walked into the room without knocking. So much for having digital locks on the door; everyone had our number, or so it seemed. He wasn't pleased that we didn't spend the whole night in the cell but Helen made it clear later when she visited to check on us after her work shift, that the hotel could have had some very bad publicity if, because of poor treatment for a guest's injury, I'd been rushed to hospital later, especially when he hadn't investigated the cause or the extent of the injury.