My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

She shrugs without apology but then gestures to my chest.

Shit. Tossing the blanket over Lorenzo’s ass hid my vagina, but the girls are still out on a naked walkabout.

“You should get that mole checked out. I don’t like the look of it,” she advises with a smirk. There’s no mole. Or I don’t think there is. Maybe I’ll have to double-check later . . . or have Lorenzo do an up close and personal check of every inch of my skin.

Yep, adding that to my to-do list for sure.

“Yeah? Well, you look like frat party rats took up nesting in your hair. Why?” I ask, changing the subject from my nudity. “What did you do yesterday that left you looking so . . .” I search for something semi-kind but give up. “Rode hard and put up wet?”

Janey balks in offense, her mouth dropping open and her eyes going fiery. But she can’t hold it and her expression morphs into something naughty. I’ve got a secret, it says.

“Oh, my God, who?” I demand as I sit up straight to get closer to whatever juicy story she’s about to unleash.

Casual as can be, she tells me, “Since you were gonna be gone all day and we’re caught up for the wedding—thank God for a day off—I decided to go down to the beach and work on my tan. I found a little spot where it was private, so I decided to tempt fate a bit and skip the tan lines by going topless.”

“Janey!” Too loud, I slap my hands over my mouth so I don’t disturb Lorenzo, who’s now snoring softly.

I’m no prude and have been to European beaches where the swimsuit tops are teeny-tiny strings, if they have them on at all. But there, it’s like the human body isn’t as sexualized or something. People just go on about their day, have conversations, and it’s like their nakedness isn’t a thing. But something about what Janey is saying makes it sound like she wasn’t just topless. She was oiling up her tits like she was prepping for a porn shoot.

“And ultimately, bottomless too.”

My eyes widen to dinner plates. “Damn, girl!” I don’t know if I’m proud or horrified or some weird combination of both.

“And then I got busted.” She doesn’t sound upset about being caught naked on some corner of the island beach. In fact, she’s blushing happily like this is where the real story begins.

“By whom? I’m guessing not the police since I didn’t have to bail you out for indecent exposure,” I tease.

“I don’t even know his name. He was a blond, tanned, muscled Adonis who came out of the sea like it was his home. I felt his eyes on me and rolled over. But something about the way he looked at me . . . God, Abs . . . I wasn’t embarrassed. I felt like art he was appreciating.”

She sways her hips a bit, tracing her curves as though she has a new-found enjoyment of them.

“And then what?” I beg desperately. It sounds like Janey had almost as great a day as I did.

“He put a fresh coat of suntan oil all over me . . . all over me,” she says again with a smirk.

“Did you have sex with a stranger on the beach?” I hiss. Oops, guess that sounded a bit too judgmental because she glares at me.

“No.” Relieved, I sigh. “But I would’ve. We just didn’t have a condom, and I might be crazy and do stupid shit, but not bareback.”

“So?” There’s more to this story, I know it.

She gives a harsh look, daring me to challenge her actions. “He rubbed me off and then I used the oil to jack him off.”

“Wow,” I breathe.

“And then he kissed my forehead, walked back into the water, and disappeared beneath the surface. It was like a dream.” Her eyes have gone hazy, the smile on her lips soft and blissful.

“Are you sure it wasn’t? Maybe you just got too much sun? Had a heat-induced fantasy that seemed real? Come here and let me feel your forehead.” I hold my palm out for her to lean into.

She returns from her mental fantasy to cut her eyes at me sharply. “He was real.”

“Are you sure he didn’t drown out there then? I mean, people get taken under by riptides, right? Maybe this dream guy swam out and went . . . under?” I almost said went ‘down’ but I know Janey will take that a different way and I’m not sure if I want that much detail.

Who am I kidding? Of course I do.

“Never mind,” I tell her, despite my previous fear mongering that her McMerman might’ve been sucked to his death by the waves. “How was it?”

“Amazing.” She sighs, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are you going to see him again?”