Page 81 of Fast and Dirty

Kira and I look at each other, and then gaze around the bar that seems to have gone quiet - minus the steel drum Christmas carols pumping through the speakers.

The tiny mermaid looks like a giant - but very pretty - sea bass laid out on the floor ready for fileting while her coworkers mill around her. Exclamations and questions are being tossed into the cacophony and, thinking on my feet, I hand my wife her cocktail while picking up my own drink.

“We should probably get out of the splash zone,” I mutter, taking gentle hold of Kira’s elbow and usher us to a far corner of the bar.

Officer Flirty buzzes past us in a hurry, muttering something about a Mervert into his radio, just before the faint sound of sirens joins in with the pandemonium.

I get the feeling Mermaid Happy Hour is cancelled.

Kira

Welp…the revolving red lights from the outside ambulance are at least lending a festive quality to the … ambiance. And West and I can definitely say our honeymoon was eventful.

Hell, not even two hours in and we witnessed a mermaid capsizing out of her tank and landing on the floor like limp sushi.

And we learned something new today. Apparently Mervert is a term describing a pervert with a mermaid fetish. That poor little mermaid was just doing her job and from her vantage point witnessed some creep at the end of the bar spanking off to her performance.

“I really hope she’s okay,” I convey to Merman Miguel as we stand just outside the entrance.

“It appears her arm is badly injured,” he explains as we see the top halves of two paramedics standing behind the bar, gesturing wildly to each other. The super buff and tatted one seems genuinely concerned and Miguel follows my line of sight before looking back to me. “They are having some difficulty figuring out how to get her on to the stretcher,” he explains further in that sultry accent.

“I can’t imagine maneuvering around that tail is easy,” West muses, slinging an arm around me.

Across the beautiful little lagoon, I see Officer Hot-as-balls pushing down on someones head, placing the likely mervert into the back of his squad car before slamming the door.

As he makes his way to the drivers door, he mumbles into the radio on his shoulder.

“I have the perpert - merp…,” he huffs and rolls his eyes before trying again. “I have themervert perpin custody and en route.”

Hot.

As he drives off, we turn back to Miguel who is holding out a couple of vouchers towards us.

“I’m so sorry your evening was interrupted. We do need to close for the time being while we get our coworker safely to the ambulance. But please come back later and enjoy a cocktail on us.”

“Thank you,” West accepts the vouchers from him.

“And I promise, it’s never like this…” he waves his hands and I see a look of gloomy realization fall over his face. “Well,mostlynever.”

We wish him well for the rest of the night and start walking back towards our room.

“You know… we haven’t cracked open that champagne they resort left in our bungalow,” West mentions. “What do you say we take that and a blanket and cozy up on the sand?”

“Westin Bradford,” I swoon up at him. “Just like that, you saved our first night of the honeymoon.”

“I aim to please, Kira Bradford.” His voice has lowered to that octave that signals he’s feeling a certain way and I can immediately get on that same page.

Champagne under the moon with the ocean waves as the soundtrack to our lovemaking? Hell yes, I’m in.

An hourlater finds us swaying together, our toes in the tide and the champagne bottle discarded up on the blanket.

We’re feeling good and we’re about to feel gooder as we start kissing and pawing at each other as the cold sea water washes around our legs.

“I’m starting to get the hype about honeymoons,” West murmurs against my lips as he tugs at the strings of my bikini.

I get it too. Here in a magical location where no one else is around. It’s like being in some other whimsical world where we can just be free and wrapped up and each other. The champagne buzz doesn’t hurt either as we find a dark and private patch of sand beneath a small pier.

“Oh my god, touch me everywhere,” I beckon as my mechanic’s strong capable hands grip at my skin.

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