“I cannot believe I let you guys talk me into this,” Fenny chuckled as a swell gently lifted her feet off the sandy floor. “It’s freezing, it’s dark, and I’m sure it’s remarkably illegal.”

“It can’t be illegal, can it?” Abbie asked.

“Indecent exposure or something, right?” Fenny shrugged.

“Like we’re gonna be caught out here in the middle of the night,” Gina scoffed.

“Wish I could see better without my glasses,” Abbie mused, glancing towards the shore.

“I don’t,” Fenny grimaced. “Finally my myopia has come in handy, I’ve already seen more than enough of you girls without the curse of 20/20 vis—pffttgh!” After a bit of splashing against Gina’s arm, Fenny surfaced, spitting sea water at Gina. “People will be angry if you drown me,” she grumbled, splashing her in a feeble attempt at retaliation. “I think.”

“Oh, I’ll just tell ‘em the sharks got you,” Gina chuckled.

“Oh good, something else to add to my list of things to panic about,” Fenny hissed.

“Stop being so anal,” Abbie grumbled.

“…hypothermia, sharks, giant squid, surfers…”

“There’s nothing keeping me from shoving kelp up your arse,” Gina hissed.

“…cops…” Fenny stopped rattling off her list and looked sheepishly at Gina.

“I’m looking forward to the cops showing up,” Abbie perked. “It could be fun to weasel out of being arrested. What cop is gonna be able to cope with three naked, wet women?”

“I’ve always wanted to write an expose on the justice system,” Gina mused. “Imagine how good the story could be if I went to jail nude, what an angle…”

“I so don’t know you people,” Fenny sighed and quickly disappeared under the water before either of them could dunk her again.

Paul let out a long breath as he finished his drink. After a rousing version of “Like a Virgin” with about 15 newly added, progressively filthier verses from the four at the bar, and the contest to see who could come up with the most unusual way to traumatize innocent bystanders with swizzle sticks, things were winding down.

Some burly, unpleasant man marched into the bar complaining loudly about a hoard of people in togas that had descended upon the place, and Paul, Brad, Mick and Cameron scurried over to look for themselves. “Uni students,” Mick shrugged, finding nothing spectacular about the myriad of Technicolor sheets wrapped around young bodies in the streets.

“Ooh, wouldn’t it be fun to join ‘em?” Paul asked, nudging Cameron with his elbow and nodding at Brad, who still had his head stuck out the door watching the excitement.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Cameron nodded excitedly.

“I’m having nothing to do with this,” Mick declared and sauntered back to the bar.

“Brad mate, you up for it?” Paul chirped, pulling Brad back into the room by his shirt.

“Up for what?” he replied, looking drunk enough to be up for anything as they reclaimed their seats at the bar.

“Joining the toga kids.”

“Sure,” Brad nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have togas handy?”

“Not like that man,” Cameron snickered. Brad squinted blearily at him.

“It’ll be fun,” Paul gushed. Brad was still confused.

“They want you to streak,” Mick sighed.

Brad’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Sure, yeah,” Paul enthused. “I dare ya.”

“What, naked?” Brad gasped.

“God no,” Paul cringed. “I’ve seen it once, I don’t need it again. No, in your shorts, that’s not so bad. Just across the road and back. It’ll give us a laugh anyway, right?”

“You’re crazy,” Brad chuckled. “I’m not taking off my pants for you guys.”

“We’ll buy you your next drink,” Cameron offered in a singsong voice.

He seemed to be considering it, weighed his options, and chimed, “Deal!”

Seconds later the four of them were crowded around a table in the back as Brad stripped to his boxers and tennis shoes. “On the count of three,” Cameron announced in a hushed voice, as if everyone in the bar hadn’t already heard their deal making. “One, two, THREE!”

They dashed to the door, Brad sprinting across the street through the throngs of students, who were a bit startled to see a half-naked man in their toga-clad midst, but many cheered him on anyway, while others were trying not to get trampled by the drunken man. He made it to the front of the club they’d agreed upon, and paused just long enough to catch his breath and steady his spinning head for the trip back. As he turned with the expectation of seeing his friends waiting for him, he saw Paul waving his pants in the air and Cameron holding his shirt up to his own chest flauntingly before dashing down the street with an unintelligible shriek.

“Shit!” Brad cried, taking off after them. “’Scuse me, sorry, move, please,” Brad muttered as he tried to make his way back through the university students to catch Paul and Cameron. “Out of my way, for Christ’s sake, hey!” he squealed, pausing just long enough to see a pretty young girl in a pink sheet blushing at him. He rubbed his rear and winked at her, before sprinting down the street again, wondering briefly what Fenny would think if he told her he’d had his ass pinched while chasing after Paul who had his pants. In all actually she would have no reason to be surprised, not if she knew tequila had been involved earlier in the evening.

Mick sauntered after them, cautiously weaving his way through the crowded street as he lit a cigarette. Paul was leaping in the air as he waved Brad’s trousers like a victory banner while Cameron took to running backwards to watch Brad.

“Shit, ow,” Cameron groaned as he hit his shoulder against a shop door that had been propped open. As he staggered to the side, he ran straight into a man who was, if possible, more drunk than he was, and they fell together in a cursing heap.

Paul let out a wicked cackle as he dashed through an intersection, against the light. “Fuck!” he screeched as he collided with the front bumper of a car that squealed to a stop. “Sorry mate,” he cried, thumping the hood as he ran by with Cameron, who’d tied Brad’s shirt into a makeshift sling not so much because it helped his shoulder, which it didn’t, but because it would bother Brad. The dx river watched curiously as the two men went tearing down the street, giggling like madmen and waving around clothes behind them.

Just as he was edging back into traffic, another man, this one in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, came sprinting across the street screaming, “GIVE ME BACK MY PANTS YOU ASSHOLE!!”

“Young people these days,” a fourth man muttered as he wandered past, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. “Told them it wasn’t a good idea, but do they listen to reason? No…”

The driver looked up the street, wondering what else was in store for him. The light changed and he gratefully turned away from the Corner of Madness and took a deep breath. Only to find himself surrounded by young people wearing sheets. This was not his day.

“Shit, look at the time,” Fenny gasped as she pulled on her watch. Her shoes were filled with sand and her hair was still clinging rather unpleasantly to her face and neck. Gina and Abbie didn’t look much better off. But, she had to admit, their impromptu swim had been fun. “You think the boys are worried?”

“They’re probably too concerned about trying not to fall off barstools to wonder where we’ve gotten,” Gina smiled.

“Good,” Abbie perked. “They’re easier to seduce when they’re drunk.”

“Like that lot would ever need seducing,” Fenny smirked.

“With the right amount of tequila in them, they won’t be able to keep their clothes on,” Gina mused.

“Dododododo,” Fenny began, but descended into giggles as Gina kicked her shin.

“Hey?” Abbie asked.

“Paul’s tequila song,” Gina announced. “He’s probably in a coma by now.”

“Maybe we should be getting home,” Fenny said, the idea of getting to bed making her yawn. “Or back to the hotel, as it were.”

“Crap, I forgot about taking you home, Abs,” Gina sighed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Abbie said, waving her off. “I’ll call Mark, he can come get me.”

“No, really, it’s late, I’ll take you home, it’s no big—”

“No, look at you, you’re dying to get home to Pauly, and Fen’s still gotta get back to the hotel and fuck Brad Sherwood.”

“God, and I thought Gina was bad,” Fenny sighed as they got up off the sand and headed for the car, “now I’ve got two of you…”

“Admit it, you love us,” Abbie cooed.

“Yeah, like I love being beaten over the head by a pair of chimps with pointed sticks,” Fenny mused.

“See, she’s using monkey metaphors again,” Gina pointed out, “she and Brad are meant for each other.”

“Go to hell,” Fenny giggled.

“Yes ma’am,” Gina nodded and started the car. Abbie dug out her cell phone to call the infamous Mark and told him to pick her up at the hotel, where she’d volunteered to wait in the bar while Gina and Fenny went upstairs to “fuck their men blind,” as she put it.

Together they’d nearly caused four traffic accidents, knocked over a drunk and a bicyclist, startled a little old lady who Paul had stopped to check on, run into five buildings, spilled one guy’s coffee onto another guy’s pants, and ruined an innocent motorist’s sense of sanity. All in less than three blocks.

Paul and Cameron ran screaming and whooping into the lobby of the hotel, Brad just a few beats behind, and when he came barreling, panting and exhausted, into the room, he pushed Paul against the wall, leaned heavily on his chest, and yanked the pants from him. Brad gestured breathlessly at the shirt that was still tied to Cameron’s wrist, and watched as he struggled with the knot.

Brad collapsed on the floor, kicked off his shoes, and pulled on his pants as Paul and Cameron collapsed against each other on a couch. “You owe me a drink,” Brad growled once he’d gained enough breath to do so. They fell into a heap of giggles until they really couldn’t breathe, all of them doubled over and in pain.

Mick sauntered in to find the others gasping for breath and struggling not to get started laughing again. “I’m disowning all of you,” he declared, put out his cigarette, and headed for the elevators. As soon as his back was turned they lost it again.

“I should go,” Cameron declared, slipping off the couch, “he’s got the key to our room and is probably planning on locking me out.” He chuckled to himself all the way to the elevator until he realized he still had Brad’s shirt, which he tossed into the middle of the lobby.

“Well, you want that drink now?” Paul asked as Brad wandered over and slipped his shirt back on. “The bar’s still open…”

“No, you should get back to Gina, she’s probably wondering where you are,” Brad said with a smile as he took a deep breath.

“You’re only saying that because you want to find Fenny,” Paul teased and pushed the elevator button.

“I hope Gina smacks you for being a prick,” Brad grumbled.

“Only because you’re not man enough to do it yourself,” Paul cackled.

“No, because Fenny would hit me if I did,” he countered. “I don’t know why she likes you…”

“I don’t know why she likes you either,” Paul giggled as they stepped out of the elevator.

“I’m holding you to that drink you owe me,” Brad said strongly as he clapped Paul on the shoulder.

“No problem,” Paul said as he stopped in front of his hotel room and searched for his keycard, “wish me luck.”

“Good luck buddy,” Brad waved as Paul disappeared into his room. He sighed and continued down the hall to his own. Pausing briefly at Fenny’s door, Brad knocked and waited anxiously for her to answer. He’d hoped that the girls had gone back to the hotel when they’d opted not to attend Paul’s show, but considering the fact Gina was involved, he shouldn’t have been surprised that they were nowhere to be found. With a sigh, he decided to go back to his room and maybe attempt to get some sleep, unlikely as the prospect may have seemed. He may have told Paul that he’d left the proverbial ball in Fenny’s court, that it was up to her to act on his confession of love, but in reality, he would do anything just to get her to acknowledge him.

Gina slid the keycard carefully through the lock and silently opened the door, expecting Paul to be comatose with a near fatal blood alcohol level. She was a bit startled to find the television flickering across Paul’s face as he lay sprawled in the middle of the bed, barely managing to stay awake. Laying in wait.

“Nice of you to finally show,” he grunted scornfully. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Umm…” Gina made a big show of checking her watch. “Twelve minutes to three.”

“Three in the morning,” he enthused.

“And?” she prompted.

“And, well, it’s three in the morning and you’re just now getting home.”

“I’m a grown woman,” she declared, beginning to get annoyed at his irritation. “I can go out with my friends if I want while you go and get wasted with yours.”

“But you didn’t tell me you were going out, you just left.”

“I didn’t know I was to be kept on a leash,” Gina spat.

Paul narrowed his eyes at her. “And why are you wet?”

“Jesus, if you must know, we went to the beach.”

“At this hour? Are you insane?”

“What are you, my father?”

“All I’m saying,” Paul yawned, “is that it would’ve been nice if you’d stayed for my show and been supportive of your husband’s work.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before,” she shrugged. “Besides, when’s the last time you were supportive of my work?”

“You don’t know how worried I’ve been,” he grumbled.

“Yes, actually, I do. You run off like this on a regular basis, now you know how I feel.”

“But I don’t run off to the beach where you could’ve been drowned or eaten by sea cucumbers or attacked with a harpoon gun…”

“I’m a big girl, I can ward off the evil sea cucumbers all by myself,” Gina huffed.

“Not if they ganged up on you, you couldn’t,” he called after her as she stomped into the bathroom and shut the door. “And then how would I know where to find you if you got attacked by sea cucumbers, because you were out all night without telling me where—”

The shower started to run, and Paul frowned at the door. With a groan he pulled his pillow over his head as he let the image of Gina, Fenny and Abbie being attacked by sea cucumbers flit through his brain, giggling a bit giddily at the very prospect until Gina reappeared, still looking pissed. He paused a moment, and lifted up one corner of the pillow enough to look at Gina as she carried her clothes into the bedroom. There was no swimsuit in her bundle of clothing. She hadn’t had one when she came into the room. She hadn’t packed one. Her clothes were dry.

Had they gone skinny dipping? He smiled at the thought.

“Genie?” he cooed. “What did you do at the beach?”

“Fended off vicious squid,” she said with a facetious snarl.

“No, seriously, you guys didn’t go swimming naked, did you?”

“Why does it matter?” She flumped on the side of the bed and fiddled with the alarm clock as she turned her back on him.

Paul crawled across the bed to her, rubbing his hands up her back. “Because it’s an image I like,” he purred.

“I’ll tell Brad and Mark you said that,” Gina declared coldly, “wanting to see their women bouncing around naked in the surf.”

“Not so much them as you,” he grinned, kissing her shoulder until he paused thoughtfully. “Was there really a lot of bouncing around naked in the surf?”

“Paul,” she groaned, leaping up from the bed. He looked up at her, his eyes wide in innocence, but even his most heavily applied puppy dog face didn’t melt her glower. “First you’re angry at me for staying out late, but since you’re turned on by what I did it’s okay now?”

“Well, sort of…”

“You’re such a pig,” she snapped.

“Genie,” he cooed, “do you know how much alcohol I’ve consumed tonight? I’m not even sure all of it was alcohol…” She shot him an unimpressed glare. “Come on, you know I don’t mean what I say, I was winding you up, you can go skinny dipping with your friends whenever you want, just next time it’d be nice if you’d tell me where you were going so I could come and join in.” Paul gave her a hopeful smile as she continued to scowl at him. Internally, however, she was smiling at herself as she made him jump through hoops for her. “Right, that was the wrong thing to say,” he continued, “but I really am sorry. Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, because I will.” He crawled off the bed, got one leg tangled in the sheets and tumbled to the ground, where he found himself staring at the ceiling, one arm underneath him and one leg still wrapped in the bedclothes, the blood draining from his toes.

“It’s not your knees, but it’ll do,” Gina smiled as she stood over him. “I guess I should forgive you before you do some serious damage.”

“I really am sorry,” he pouted as he righted himself, hopping about on one foot as he tried to keep his balance and untangle his ankle at the same time.

“I know you are,” she soothed as she pulled the sheet away from him and he collapsed sloppily back onto the bed.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

“I guess,” she smiled as she slid into bed next to him and flipped off the television. She curled up closer to him and enjoyed the silence for a few moments.

“So were you really naked on the beach?”

“If I kiss you will you shut up?”

“It’ll take more than a kiss to shut me up,” Paul announced, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“I can handle that,” Gina grinned and pressed even closer against Paul as she finally gave in and kissed him, running her fingers through his hair and relishing the feel of his hands across her body.

Looking down at her salt-stiff clothes and still wrinkled fingers, Fenny decided that before she could decide anything more, she needed to take a shower. She wandered into the bathroom, turned on the shower, stripped for the second time that night, and opened the shower to check the water. It was entirely too cold, and as she fiddled with the knobs she found herself taking inventory of the shower, noting the ledge that stuck out from the wall that held a complimentary miniature bar of soap. A smile crept across her face as she remembered how long that bruise she’d gotten from a romp with Brad in an Australian shower had taken to heal. The cold shower was beginning to sound like a good idea as she let Gina and Abbie’s advice fill her head. But really, what good was a shower if all you wanted to do was get sweaty again?

Thirty seconds later Brad opened his door to find Fenny standing in the hallway wearing a rather foolish set of sheep-printed thermal pajamas. “Um, hi?” he said.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure.” He stepped aside and she moved into the dark room.

“Sorry, I kinda forgot it was so late, I hope I didn’t…” She could tell by the look on his face he’d been up. Probably because of her.

Without thinking, Fenny reached up with both hands and pulled Brad down to her in a hungry kiss that threatened to bring them both to their knees. She pulled away, breathless, and stared at him. He looked at her, carefully licking his lips, making a mental note to ask her about the bitter salt taste. Later.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“Me too,” he nodded.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She put her hands under Brad’s shirt, moving them up his back until he took the hint and pulled it off.

“You’re right.”

She pulled him close again, nudging him backwards towards the bed as she kissed him, running her fingertips over the familiar contours of his body. “It’ll never work,” she panted when he devoted his attention to her jaw, finally tasting his way to her neck.

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled against her skin.

“We’ll end up hurting each other.”

“Most likely.”

“It’ll all end in tears.”

“Yeah.”

Fenny felt his teeth graze against that spot on her neck that only Brad ever seemed to be able to properly find, and with a firm push with quaking hands, she pushed him onto the bed to crawl up on top of him, and they were quickly lost in a tangle of roaming hands, frantic kisses, and shed clothing.