Bored, tired, and wanting to leave these four walls, Drew suggests we head out to the marina for the night.
The marina is only a block away, a manageable walk for me and my swollen feet. The main drag stretches out for a mile, and beside the bustling restaurants and nightlife, several yachts line the decked pathway.
There’s a large, sparkling white yacht titled The Beaumont. It’s the biggest one docked, lit up with loud music blaring from the upper deck. It also happens to be the one full of bikini-clad women.
I laugh, squeezing Drew’s hand. “I bet you they’re going to have an orgy.”
“Probably.” He shrugs his shoulders. “What else is there to do on a yacht with one old guy and five young chicks?”
“How would he even rotate them, you know? He looks like he’s pushing eighty.” I cringe at the thought. The man is wearing a sea captain’s hat and barely able to swing his hips to the beat. “Jesus, can he even get it up?”
“We’re about to eat dinner. Please don’t talk to me about some old dude getting it up. I’d like to enjoy the expensive meal.”
“I miss having sex.” Sighing loudly, my gaze travels toward the perfect night sky.
Drew stops mid-step, demanding I do the same. “Excuse me? You can have sex anytime. In fact, let’s go back to the room now because I’ve been hard since yesterday’s session.”
With a playful slap on his toned arm, I add, “You know what I mean. I just miss being skinny, being able to throw my body around and actually orgasm repeatedly.”
“When did you ever throw your body around? You’re the laziest person I know. Trying to get you on top is always a mission,” he teases.
“Every time you stick your dick in me, I feel uncomfortable, and then one of the babies start kicking so that ruins everything. What about when the babies are born? We’ll have the bassinette in our room, and they can see and watch us.”
“Zo, they can’t see for the first few months. They can detect light and motion but don’t have clear vision like we do. Please stop talking about this.”
We stop in front of a restaurant called Fisherman Joe’s Love Shack. With the Zydeco music playing inside and families lining up, we decide to try the place out.
Drew and his charm manage to get us a table near the window. The view is gorgeous with a sea breeze cooling the area, and while the restaurant is crowded there’s this upbeat vibe for a Thursday night.
With the menu in hand, I scan the options and struggle to make a choice. “Everything looks mouth-watering.”
“No seafood,” Drew scolds.
&
nbsp; “What? Why?”
“It’s not good for the babies. The risk of contamination with salmonella which can cause developmental delays and—”
The young waitress arrives at our table pulling out her tablet and requesting our order. Her timing is perfect. Drew can talk your ear off about Salmonella poisoning.
“Fine…” I whine, “… I’ll have the rack of ribs, fries, onion rings, and Caesar salad.”
“I’ll have the rib-eye steak and side salad,” Drew adds to my order.
“Um, could you bring out some sauces?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nothing makes you feel more like an aging grandma than being called ma’am.
“Oh…” I wonder out loud. “What about bread rolls?”
“How many would you like?”
“Two... no three. Gravy?”
Drew raises his hand. “Okay, that’s enough. You’re going to get indigestion.”