Is it ‘cause I’m suffering from a dry spell?
Not quite polar desert but let’s just say I haven’t seen rain or sleet or a fucking snowflake in personal record timing.
I should probably correct that.
Soon.
Like before it influences my ability to make good life decisions.
Or…at leastless badlife choices.
That’s really the best I can do.
“We have a proposition for you,” states the white, linen button-down beast beside me.
“People typically buy me a drink first,” I salaciously announce prior to mischievously peering up at his unnamed boyfriend, “or perhaps two.”
Garcia lightly grunts in amusement and lifts a pair of fingers to summon over the bartender.
The instant Ernie arrives, he cockily leans his six-foot-five frame onto the bar via his elbows.“Let me guess.Shots for the beached mermaid – because for her it’s always shot o’clock somewhere – a top-shelf tequila, no ice, twist of lime for khakipants– because that’s classic for an upscale member of society on vacay – and a mojito for khakishorts –because someone mentioned in a Tik Tok that it was Hemingway’s fav.”
“Documentary about endangered species which covered the Cuban solenodonsinCuba,” corrects Garcia’s partner.
“Eh,” chuckles one of the few acquaintances I’ve allowed myself to keep over the years, “close enough for a stogie.”
“How the fuck did you guess that?”ponders the baffled attorney while handing over his card to be swiped.
“What can I say?”Ernie’s broad, sun-kissed beige shoulders innocently bounce.“I’ve got a gift.”Arrogance flutters through his crooked grin as the system accepts the form of payment.“And it gets a lot of use when it comes to tourists like yourselves.”My tank top sporting pal tosses me a curious glance in tandem with returning the black, rectangular object to Garcia.“Feet or fins?”
“Undecided.”
“Singles it is then,” he warmly declares on a self-dismissal.
“You really think we look like tourists?”nervously questions Garcia’s other half.
“You don’t look like locals.”
“I did my research,” the male whose name I still don’t know defends.“This shirt blends in with the high traffic footage of this establishment not to mention that of the immediate surrounding perimeter.”
“Whichtrackssince this is atourist bar.”
“Then why are you here?”He immediately pokes.“You aren’t a tourist in this town anymore.At least not byyourstandards.You’ve actually bothered to rent a space to call your own rather than bum from beach to boat or boat to beach.”
Bewilderment begs to be seen in my expression; however, I deny it.
No.
It’s gonna take more than Carlos fromThe Magic School Busexpertly using Google to toss me off my board.
Solid try though.
“Ernie’s the dude I rentfrom,” I openly answer, fingers lightly toying with my white and purple lacy bikini top, right on top of my tit.“Wanna guess what he charges me?”
Hunger unexpectedly clouds his gaze getting me to viciously giggle.
Oh…the perfect fun.
Both dudes swing both ways.
