Pick Your Poison

This night is even more incredible than he could have anticipated.  When Jordan planned to come to southern California in celebration of his college graduation with his buddies, he never imagined it would turn into anything more than drinking alcohol bootlegged from Mexico, thanks to Smitty’s dad.    But the luxurious room that Stephen’s cousin booked for them on the beach is almost too good to be true.  The furnishings are amazing in the spacious quarters, but the loaded bar is incredible for three young adult men with the weekend to themselves.

Standing on the balcony with a bottle of tequila, fermented worm spinning at the bottom each time he tilts it up again, he watches the moonlight tease the waves in the darkness.  “What you looking at, eye candy?” Smitty smacks him vigorously across the back.  Jordan’s attention switches to a few women clustered together around a bonfire on the beach.

“I hadn’t noticed them,” he admits, embarrassed because the site is something a blind man could see.  The group of three is dancing about the bonfire with the light of the flames licking their skin as it shows through the sheer white netting.

“Yeah, right,” Smitty says, “If I wasn’t so drunk I would embarrass myself and be down there right now.  But I think I’m going to play a hand or two with Stephen and get an early start with the surfer chicks in the morning.  You gonna play?”  Jordan can see Stephen shuffling the cards at the coffee table behind him.

The invitation is tempting but the water is splashing a cool mist, high into the atmosphere, raining a refreshing fragrance into his nostrils.  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Jordan pauses, “Coming here was a great idea, right?”

“You bet your sweet momma’s ass, and tomorrow will be even better!”  They do their special handshake and hip bump with a jubilant chuckle.

“My momma’s sweet ass?” Jordan kicks him in the pants as he teasingly pushes him inside and closes the door with a slam.  The sound thunders into the night air and causes the women below to detect him standing alone on the balcony.  One of them promenades over to Jordan, more breathtaking than he could imagine.  Huge blue eyes shimmer in the light above a full set of lips that scream ‘sex’ without even moving.

The straining light forces itself through the sheer fabric, playing on every curve of her body as she gracefully glides closer beneath him.  Her long and lustrous red curls twist around her waistline as the ocean breeze plays with the ends.  At first he wonders if he is dreaming like some tequila worm-induced hallucination.  But when she speaks in a voice as sweet and melodic as the ocean’s wind echoing through a seashell, he knows she can’t be imaginary.

“Are you enjoying your view?” she calls up to him, the other deities watching for his response, “Because you could see us a lot better if you were down here.”  Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips before she bites her lower one.

Admittedly, she is correct and Jordan knows that once he goes back to the real world his mundanely predictable life will begin.  He owes it to himself to make this weekend worth remembering, without regrets of what could have been.  Being with three gorgeous women in the night is any man’s dream; a blond, brunet, and redhead–would definitely be the answer.  Without another inhale of the salty fresh air, he leaps over the railing to tumble down about twenty feet, landing in the sand on his side, “Oomph!”

“Oh, we have a live one, girls!” she shares with the others who are whispering and giggling behind her.  The brunet twirls her hair around her finger while the blond pulls the pins out of her hair, allowing it to drop around her shoulders in soft, subtle curls.

For a second something doesn’t feel quite right, but he allows it to pass, weighing out the differences and the regrets of tomorrow if he doesn’t participate.  His friends would agree that only a fool would turn down an opportunity like this one. 

“So what’s the plan?” he queries as she takes his hand, leading him toward the others.  Observing their physical perfection and smelling the euphoric aromas rising from the sand, the ocean, and the air, he’s in heaven.   Unable to put his finger on the sense of danger he feels prickling up his neck, he still finds it too enticing to go back now.

“My name is Sirena and these are my sisters!” she shares, “We were just wishing we had a man and here you are!” Sirena sighs and takes another breath as he sees her chest expand, bare beneath the cover.  He’s stunned to note all three of them are naked beneath the netted drapes.

“Here I am!” he returns, bashfully, feeling a little guilty his friends aren’t here.  “You got something to drink, or you need me to grab a bottle?”

“We have plenty to drink,” the sultriness of her voice is authoritative, but not threatening.  “Come and you can pick your poison.”  Sirena moves her hand to lock arms and the brunet grabs his right bicep.  The blond follows close behind, leading him toward the incoming foam as it snakes its watery tongues up the sandy shore.

“You got a boat out here or something?” he asks, but can see no lights or indication of a floating device.  Furrowing his brows, he squints at the rocks in front of him as the cold waters shower them.  At the base where the water swells, he can make out something white appearing every so often, as the waters pull away.  When he realizes it is a human ribcage he spins his head around, craning to see behind him in case he missed something. 

The breathtaking hosts are gone.  Replacing them are three demons with white scaly skin, bulbous red eyes and holes agape where their mouths should be.  They are full of sharp, piranha-like teeth dividing as they laugh at their joke.  The two longhaired creatures clamping onto him are much stronger than Jordan.  Regardless of his struggle, they force him along the embankment into the rising waves.  The jagged rocks are growing closer and he sees a skull winking from beneath the waves.

With his last burst of energy, he rotates his head back to the room and sees Smitty and Stephen up on the balcony searching for him.  It appears as if they see him as Stephen holds his bottle up to toast.

 “Hey!” he manages to squeak before being cut off by the water filling his mouth as they pull him down.  The darkness is deafening and he holds his breath, kicking and twisting, finally surfacing long enough to gain a breath.  When his face breaks the surface, he croaks a partial scream before disappearing again. 

When Smitty and Stephen comprehend something is awry, they tumble over the railing, landing in a heap under the balcony.  Stumbling drunk back and forth on the shore calling their friend’s name, Smitty grabs his friend’s arm, “Do you hear that?”

Stephen listens and grins, holding onto his bottle, “Women?”

“Seems like our little Jordan is partying without us,” Smitty scowls.  He staggers in the direction of the laughing, chattering and singing voices. 

Stephen cheers, “To our good friend, Jordan, for bringing us a night to remember.”  Putting the bottle to his mouth, he spits out sand and recognizes it must have spilled when he tumbled from the balcony.  He tosses it aside and lumbers after his friend.

The 2009 Pinot bottle lies with the label Siren glistening in the moonlight until the fingers of the ocean rake it through the sand out to the depths.  The sobering sound of quiet punctuates with the crashing waves and an occasional female giggle.

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