I follow the stylish, stately hostess that met us at the bottom of the stairs at the entrance to the beach. She leads us over to our VIP reserved lounge section.

“Holy shit. This is awesome.”

Macy settles on the opposite side of the huge lounge bed.

It’s covered with an awning and has pulled back drapes for the sides with an unobstructed view out to the ocean.

“This spot is yours for the week. It corresponds with your room, so if you see anyone else in it, please let me know. Or whoever is on duty for the VIP section.”

She gives us both a demure smile. “I’ll send one of the waiters over right now.”

“Thank you.”

Dropping my bag on the ground, I throw myself backwards into the lounger.

The cushion bounces a little and is covered with a waterproof material. I have seen these loungers before, but I’ve never actually used one.

“Well, this is super. But I’m still going to get you to help me put some sunscreen on my back.”

Macy is pulling her sheer cover up over her head as I look over.

Fuck. This is like being in bed.

Sure, it’s outside, but these loungers have all kinds of canopy drapes around them that you can keep open and closed.

And she looks so good. Her hot pink bikini is a barely there number that shows off all her assets perfectly.

“I think I can handle that.”

Sitting up, I pull off my own shirt.

“Maybe you could do mine after?”

Macy already has her back to me but looks over her left shoulder with the smile.

“Sure.”

Grabbing the sunscreen between us, I shake it down and squeeze some onto my hand.

She’s gathered her hair up onto her head. Slowly, I swirl the sunscreen around her back to distribute a layer before starting to rub it in.

Her skin feels hot and silky. This week is going to end up driving me fucking crazy, after all.

She seems to be having the best time I’ve seen her have since…well, ever, over the last couple hours. The sunshine and expertly prepared cocktails are sitting pretty well with me, as well.

“Drinks?”

Looking up, the waiter is there with a tray. They’ve got good timing here.

“Sure. Can I get a beer, like a Corona?”

Macy seems like she enjoys a drink, but she’s not too well-versed on the more obscure treasures in stock at the resort.

“Yes, for sure. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same thing, thank you.”

There are still a few days to introduce her to things, there’s no need to dive headlong into everything.

Shit, maybe the latitude really is getting to me.

Whatever. It’s sure to be a fun fucking week no matter what. After all, it’s always fun to introduce something new to someone and experience it through their eyes.

Squeezing a little more sunscreen into my hand, I move down her back, running my fingers in a light massage.

“Done with champagne for the moment?”

I need to distract myself just a bit so I don’t have some sort of breakdown.

“Yeah. I figured that alcohol would be part of this trip, but I probably shouldn’t have too much booze in me when we go swimming with the sharks.”

“Well, not being drunk would definitely be a plus.”

I chuckle, and she pulls away from my hands to turn around and look at me.

“Are you laughing at me?”

She definitely doesn’t seem offended. Or serious.

Well, I guess our beloved Macy is finally lightening the hell up.

I throw myself back on the pillows with my arms behind my head to prop it up.

“I would never laugh at you.”

She doesn’t miss my mocking tone.

Smacking me on the chest playfully, she demands, “Roll over.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I oblige and settle on my stomach with my head facing her.

She studiously avoids looking at me, but when she gets situated to rub the sunscreen onto my back, her lap is almost in my face.

And she smells wonderful. Like sunscreen and sunshine.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the swimming with the sharks. Can you imagine the liability if an amenity at a popular resort included being eaten by fucking sharks?”

My logic doesn’t seem to impress her.

“I didn’t say I was worried. And if I were, I think it’d be more biological than rational. We have a built-in ‘resist the danger’ meter inside of us.”

She does the air quotes and everything. I’m not usually a fan of those, but she sure makes them cute.

“What’s your meter saying about me?”

I’m honestly curious, and I’m trying to sound serious.

“That even though you strut everywhere like you’re the cock of the fuckin’ walk, deep down you’re just a frightened little pussycat looking for approval.”

I arch into her hands, like the frightened little pussy I apparently am, pushing my butt into the air as she reaches my tailbone.

She jerks her hand away, laughing.

“I’m not a pussycat, but I do love pussy.”

She did walk right into that one. She snort-laughs, and even without seeing her, I can tell she’s shaking her head.

“Couldn’t resist, could ya? I’d like to think you were being ironic with that joke, but I should know better by now.”

I look at her and smirk, and she finishes up.

“Seriously though, I’ve protected you enough. Come on, Sunscreen Boy, I’ve got enough of this shit on my hands to last a lifetime, and I’ve got a feeling you don’t always use that much of it.”

I roll over slowly, revealing my chest and abs.

“So, you like my tan, I take it.”

“Oh, you take it, alright. As a compliment, that is. I should’ve known you’d find some way to manage that.”

“Are you sure you’ve managed to slather on enough sun protection? I mean, it’s the tropics, so go nuts. Or, go wherever you want.”

Macy’s ravishing smile drops, and I realize that what I thought was usual wit has kind of turned into shit very recently. In fact, I’ve got so little wit left that I don’t even know what to say next.

Luckily, I see our drinks coming. I subtly grab a few bills from my wallet.

“For the Mrs.”

He hands Macy a glass beer bottle with a picture-perfect lime wedge stuffed into the neck.

“And for you, sir.”

I leave an exceedingly generous tip on the tray before taking my own longneck.

“Thank you very much. I’m Carlos. So, just yell my name when you’re ready for more.”

With a jaunty salute, Carlos takes off.

“Sure thing. Most appreciated.” I jam the lime wedge down into my bottle with my thumb, letting the citrus do its work for about a second before taking take a long sip of the pale lager.

It’s so ice cold I can barely taste it. Macy leans onto her back and appears to be avoiding looking at me. That won’t do. Time to break the ice again.

“So…Mrs. That’s so mundane. I’m tempted to call you the old ball and chain.”

Her head swivels towards me slowly. Even with her sunglasses on, I can feel the indignation radiating from her eyes.

I keep making it worse, I guess, but...

“Are you freestyling? Or is that the new Lil’ Pump song or something?”

A burst of laughter escapes from me. “I’ll just call you wifey.”

The word sounds foreign as I say it.

Her lips curve up by about a micrometer.

“Why do you have to call me anything?”

She picks up the sunscreen bottle and squeezes a generous amount on her hand.

“Because you’re just so damn cute. And I like your attitude and watching you get riled up. You know, like ‘take my wife, please.’ Remember?”

She’s rubbing the sunscreen on her stomach, right over where I left condensation from the beer bottle.

“I’m afraid I’m not that old.”

She sounds annoyed. Time to change the damn subject again.

“Are you looking forward to the massage?”

Definitely a better question, because she smiles immediately.

It’s a couple’s massage, and she knows that, but I leave that part out for now to try and keep her mood up.

“Now that’s going to be fucking fabulous. I don’t get the opportunity to get massages very often.”

Macy must have massages on the brain because she’s massaging sunscreen all over herself liberally.

“So,” I shrug. I’m trying to act casual, like everything’s completely normal right now, and it’s not like there’s some goddess around or anything, acting super fucking charming, sexy, adorable.

No, just a normal day at the beach.

“Swimming with sharks, the couples massage, dinner on the beach, and then there’s a boat tour…What am I forgetting?”

Either the alcohol is hitting me, or I’m just super relaxed—because I can’t think of anything else off the top of my head.

“Everything sounds like a cakewalk—especially the swimming with sharks. I bet you’re into doing that today and getting it over with.”

“If you’re that worried about it, we don’t have to go.”

I’m trying to suppress yet another smirk.

She looks at me sharply. “Don’t you try to deflect, you big scaredy-cat.”

“Hey, hey, Macy, it’s okay, there’s no need for this. If you’re that scared, we can go stare at some goldfish in the lobby bar instead. It’s not the end of the world if—”

“Oh, that’s it. Now I really want to go, just to see how scared you really get. I bet we don’t even get off the beach before you collapse, whimpering into the sand.”

She smiles and tosses the sunscreen at me.

“Didn’t you say you needed more of this stiff—I mean stuff. Fuck!”

Watching Macy blush and roll her eyes in embarrassment, I already feel like collapsing, whimpering, onto the sand.

The effect this woman has on me is greater than the greatest great white is, and I’d gladly swim through a frenzy of the hungriest sharks the Caribbean has to offer for a chance to show her the time of her life.