Risky Business

On the island of Zante, sex sells and anything goes. But what happensto consent in a seemingly rule-free society? KIERAN MACKLIN-PAGE,who spent five summers as a rep there, explains…

- Josie Copson

'AND THE WINNER IS…'

I was surrounded by my colleagues as we all waited in anticipation to see who was going to scoop the top prize we all wanted. I was feeling quietly confident. I was new to the job, but I’d put in the hours, all summer long, and my numbers were looking good. I knew I had some tough competition – especially from my friend Richard,* who could perhaps beat me to it, but I doubted it. Not many others had achieved what I had. They’d come close… but weren’t quite there.

As predicted, it was my name they called. I snaked my way through a crowd of people, none of whom would remember this moment in the morning and eventually arrived at the stage. There, I was handed the silver trophy, which shimmered blue and purple under the disco lights. Engraved on it, in tiny cursive script, were the words TOP SHAGGER. I swaggered off the stage and celebrated the only way I knew how – by drinking dangerous amounts and adding another conquest to that number.

It was September 2013, I was 19 years old and I’d just completed my first season as a promoter in Zante. By that point – and the thing that won me this most coveted prize – I’d slept with over 100 women, all during that wild, hazy and hot summer. I was constantly trying to beat my personal best of four women in one night. We all were. Each morning, around midday, I’d meet up with my fellow workers over breakfast and compare conquests from the night before. Most of the boys kept all the names listed on their phone, like some kind of shopping list.