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“Oh, they weren’t offering Oprah money. That would be a different story.”
We all start ambling sedately along the sand, staying close to the gently crashing ocean waves.
“It would probably be a different story for anyone,” ponders Chase. “Even for us.”
“I do not fucking think so,” Eric blazes back at him. “We don’t need any other kind of money. We’ve got the perfect thing right where we are now.”
I agree, but I don’t even need to say it. We’ve got the perfect thing going for us, right here on this beach, and in Hawaii.
Thinking about that, I take another sip of my Mai Tai.
“And this drink is the only thing that can improve on perfection.” Okay, I do say that one out loud. “Well, maybe except for a couple of other things.”
And hell yes, I said that out loud, too. Eric and Chase look at one another.
They know exactly what I’m talking about, but I can tell from their little smiles that they’re going to play it coy and have some fun. Hey, we’re enjoying perfection, and there’s no fucking rush.
“A couple of other things that are better than a Mai Tai?” Chase is hamming it up big time, like I’ve never seen him before. And I fucking love it.
“What things could those be?” Eric’s playing right along, and my amusement’s turning into other feelings—like the feeling of starting to get fucking wet at the thought of those two magnificent cocks that are already oh so close to me, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
“Like other drinks, maybe?” continues Chase.
“I think you may be onto something,” I reply.
“But...what other drinks could those be? Something popular around here maybe, something that suits Hawaii, one would think.” Chase is drawing this out, but I know where it’s leading, and I’m going to get wetter than the fucking ocean before we get there.
“Like a Sex on the Beach, perhaps?” asks Eric.
“Oh, maybe.” Yeah, I’m just trying not to drool on the sand. “That could be it.”
“It does suit Hawaii,” Chase imparts, “but would it, as Kara puts it, improve on perfection?”
“I’ll field that one,” I offer. “Yes. Yes, it would. But it’s already perfect. I mean right here, right now, Hawaii, modeling for Protein Plus—I wouldn’t trade this for Hollywood, New York, Milan, Oprah money or anything else in the fucking world.”
I let that sink in as we stroll quietly along the beach, the sunset painting the sky in front of us.
After a few lovely minutes, Eric speaks up.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think anybody could do a better job than you’re doing with it.”
“Anyone, huh?” I inquire.
“No one could do what you do,” Chase asserts, “just like nobody could do what Holly-Anne does.”
That’s the right thing to say, especially since Holly-Anne’s going to be one of my bridesmaids in three days.
You read that right. I’m fucking marrying these guys—both of them.
In three days.
Yeah, I can hardly fucking believe it either.
We’re doing it here in Hawaii, in a small ceremony right here on this beach that I’m walking on with my fiancée and my other fiancée. No, it won’t be a legal marriage, but we can still have a ceremony.
“And just like no one can do what Miss Japan or Miss Ireland does.” That’s also the right thing for Chase to say, since they’re also my bridesmaids.
“Speaking of perfection, they’re all working out fucking perfect for Protein Plus.” Eric’s genuinely happy with the decision to bring them aboard as models.
