A footpath runs alongside the riverbank. Beside it is a narrow strip of white sand adjacent to the gently lapping river. Apart from the restaurant’s lanterns, the footpath and beach are lit only by starlight. Sure, some illumination drifts across the water from the city, and from the distant lamps lighting the grassy esplanade adjacent, but it is the stars that dominate. Of course, there are also the car headlights from the nearby parking area that intrude on occasion, but still the stars are immensely popular – specifically at night (when they’re visible).
On this particular night, the stars are remarkably prominent. It gives the beach a magical out-of-this-world feel, especially with the music drifting across the waves from the party on the city foreshore.
The world might be burning around you, but as long as you are here, nothing else matters. That’s what the locals believe. Admittedly most of them have never visited anywhere else on the planet, with the exception of a small equatorial island that is overflowing with people just like them. Usually, these vacationers remain completely intoxicated during their entire stay on the island.
Basil watches Della forlornly, as she walks ahead with Gemma and Jacob.
The married couple are arm-in-arm, the three of them chatting amongst themselves.
Why did she insist I come and then not walk with me? Basil wonders. He is confused and hurt by Della’s conflicting signals. He needs to do something. He needs to get her alone. To make her understand how much she means to him. But how?
Or should he just head straight to bed? Tomorrow is going to be a big day: a bigger day than usual. Tomorrow is the culmination of five years’ work. He signs the final contracts to sell his latest idea. It will revolutionise the world, his marketing agent told the buyer. Basil considers that a little over the top. It is big, but that big? Tonight he was hoping to tell Della about the windfall, but now she can see it on the news like everyone else. Then she’ll be sorry.
“He didn’t come onto you?” Griff asks Wanda. They’re walking a few paces behind Basil.
“We were just chatting,” she consoles him, “Business.” Wanda can see that Griff doesn’t entirely believe her, but there’s no panic. She knows what to do. She kisses him on the cheek. “Relax. Right now, I’m all yours.”
Abruptly, Della and Gemma giggle loudly. Jacob grins and glances back at Basil.
[https://i.ibb.co/vL1KKF7/flourish-heart1-small.png]
Basil clenches his jaw. What are they saying about me?
Then Griff whispers into his ear, “Careful, mate,” he warns. “He probably wants to have a threesome with your bird.”
I know I do, Griff muses, but keeps it to himself. At least, he thinks he kept that thought to himself. Basil doesn’t respond so he must have, but why is Wanda looking at him that way?
Basil reaches a conclusion. He has to let Della know. He needs to do this now.
Now?
Yes, now!
“Can you run interference for me?” Basil asks Griff, “I want to get Della alone.”
Griff develops a naughty grin. You randy little bugger, he thinks. At least, he thinks he thinks. He glances at Wanda just in case, but she’s stoic.
Phew!
“Sure thing” Griff answers. He removes his jacket. He hands it to Wanda. She takes it without looking. Instead, she’s watching Basil.
Sweet, she thinks. So sweet.
A warm smile leaks through her professional veneer. It brightens her dark eyes.
[https://i.ibb.co/vL1KKF7/flourish-heart1-small.png]
Ahead, Della, Gemma and Jacob slip off their shoes.
“Why is it that you get to thirty and you’re not allowed to have fun anymore?” Della is mostly talking to herself, although Gemma nods knowingly. “Why is it always doom and gloom?” Della continues, “Why can’t it be special? Just for a moment.”
Jacob offers Della a hand along with his devastating smile. “Would the lady care to dance in the moonlight on a deserted beach?”
Della laughs and takes his hand.
Together they step off the beach just as…
Griff roars up behind.
“Get your hands off her,” he screams, “I think you’ve done enough floundering for tonight, don’t you?”
Jacob responds calmly, “I think the word you’re looking for is philandering.”
Griff stops at the edge of the footpath, “Do I?”
“Unless you mean I have been hitting people with a fish.”
“Whatever. I think it’s time we settle this mano-to-mano.”
“Mano-a-mano” Jacob corrects.
“What?”
“The term is mano-a-mano. It’s Spanish for hand-to-hand.”
“I don’t speak Spanish.”
“If truth be known, you’re barely able to speak English.”
“That’s because I let my fists do the serious talking. Put them up.”
Griff drops into a boxing stance.
It has gotten horribly tense.
Gemma can’t help but think that it’s vaguely reminiscent of the trashy romance novels she read as a teen. She still reads them when she’s feeling insecure.
There’s the dashing, suave and sophisticated hero (her husband), clashing with the raggedy, tramp – who while repulsive, still has a certain brutish appeal about him (that’d be Griff). If she had a box of chocolates handy, she’d be stuffing her face now.
“Are you sure you want to do this, mate?” Jacob asks dropping Della’s hand and stepping away from her. After all, a gallant knight never endangers a beautiful woman unnecessarily. Neither does a dashing rogue.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Griff’s responds. He’s sure he can take Jacob – to make him bleed and beg for mercy.
He glances toward Basil, who is creeping towards Della. If his mate needs time alone with his bird, then Griff is only too willing to help. He plans to do Jacob slowly to give Basil all the time he needs.
“Della?” Basil whispers, as he draws closer.
Della doesn’t react. Her attention is focused solely on the testosterone-fuelled conflict before her.
“Are you certain?” Jacob asks Griff, “See if you do this, then it’s inevitable that everyone is going to find out about your dirty little secret.”
“Della.”
“What secret?”
Basil drops to one knee.
Jacob smiles sweetly and flicks his gaze toward Wanda. She’s settled at the edge of the beach.
“Della.”
Basil reaches out to lightly touch Della but she’s not there. She already stepped between the two bulls.
“Why don’t you settle this like civilised men,” she says, “By dancing.”
Now it must be said at this point, that Della is a massive fan of civilisation. No, not that one. Civilisation provides her money, and money allows her to buy stuff. Good stuff. Not cheap and nasty stuff like her mother is forced to buy, but stuff that has a name attached to it. Names are important, because without names stuff can’t possibly be considered civilised.
It must also be said, that Della’s concept of civilisation is a little askew from that held by most mortals. Della has read a few too many romance novels, but unlike Gemma, she doesn’t consider them shameful. She’d even tried writing one.
However, every time she began writing the love scenes she got distracted. Some might consider being distracted six times per day healthy in a thirty-two year old woman, but Della considered it wanton and totally uncivilised. Dancing six times per day, on the other hand, is a completely different matter.
[https://i.ibb.co/vL1KKF7/flourish-heart1-small.png]
“Best dancer wins,” she addresses Griff and Jacob. They are arrayed before the three women, who are seated at the edge of the beach.
“Oh come on!” Griff protests.
“Afraid?” Jacob asks him, and then turns to Della, “What do we win?”
“Your honour.”
“A kiss from all three of us,” Gemma interjects. She glances at Wanda and then Della. They both nod. It’s a safe bet for her. She knows how badly Jacob dances.
Basil strides forward from where he has been hiding amongst the shadows.
“In that case, count me in”, he says. “But my reward will be five minutes alone with Della.”
“What can you do in five minutes?” Gemma asks him with a laugh.
“He’s actually quite talented in that regard,” Della defends Basil. She gazes at him the city lights reflected in her dilated pupils. This is not at all like the Basil she knows.
“Ready?” Gemma cries enthusiastically.
Gemma loves the idea of having men dance for her. Della is so ingenious, and evil - so wickedly evil. She likes it even if one of the dancers is the bookish Basil. She has never understood what Della sees in him.
Yet, she’s never once complained about their sex life, Gemma realises.
Her gaze goes to Basil. Hmmmm.
The song from across the river concludes. The three men are ready. The new song begins. It’s pure primordial beats: fast and hard. Griff would term it as humping music.
“Go!” a voice screams. It is Wanda.
The dancing is not pretty by any standard. Men’s dancing rarely is, unless they’re gifted with a supreme amount of agility and strength. Having the willpower to continue through the constant pain helps too.
Jacob is smooth. He clearly has some well-rehearsed moves but unfortunately, they’re designed for the dance floor (or the bedroom floor) and not beach sand.
Griff is a primal demigod. His idea of dancing involves him thrusting with his pelvis.
Gemma watches him fascinated by the energy behind each of those insertions.
Basil is the real surprise. He’s not good by any standard, completely lacking any talent or coordination, but that doesn’t matter because he gives it his all. He’s like a whirling dervish with arms, legs and truckloads of sand flying everywhere.
The women urge the men on.
Gemma hoots.
Wanda catcalls.
They’re all laughing.
Griff needs to win this, so he ups the ante. He stops and holds an Adonis pose for a few seconds, and then he seductively unbuttons his shirt. It’s clearly a move he has practiced many times before.
He teases the women with glimpses of his chest. Under normal light some might consider it pasty and unappealing, but in the starlight it looks like chiselled marble.
The women respond with cheers and applause.
Noticing the attention, Basil and Jacob soon do likewise. Nobody wants to lose this.
The men dance. The women laugh and applaud. Everyone is having a great moment, but not perfect. Not quite.
Then the beat of the music changes and something magical happens. Suddenly they’re one: three bare-chested men dancing in perfect synchronicity.
However, this sort of competition isn’t won by synchronizing with your competitors.
Griff goes for broke. He unbuckles his pants with one hand while doing circles in the air with the other. He looks vaguely like a cowboy – that is, if cowboys wore army-green safari suits (which are exceedingly rare these days).
Gemma squeals, “No!”
“Oh my god!” Della screams.
Not to be outmanoeuvred a second time, both Jacob and Basil start unbuckling their pants a moment later. Jacob is his usual suave self about it. He lacks the one-handed skill of Griff, but he knows how to put on a show. He eyes Wanda as he swings his hips in time with the beat.
Basil, on the other hand, does what he’s always done. There’s no romance. No subtlety. He unbuttons his pants and pushes them down around his ankles, exactly like he does every time he goes to the toilet.
Wanda doubles over with laughter as the three men try to dance in the sand with their pants around their ankles. She thinks they resemble the old hula-hoop doll her father stuck to the dashboard of his car - except at least a hula-hoop doll could dance a little.
Then just as the beat changes again and there’s only one place where this dancing act is going to inevitably end, a light abruptly cuts through the night to fall upon the men.
“Hey!” a deep voice cries, “What’s going on there?”
It’s a security guard and he’s armed: with a flashlight.