I can feel Carrie’s hand on my shoulder, a concerned touch as she tries her best to calm me down. I didn’t realize how loud my voice had gotten, but instead of lowering it I push ahead.
“It’s not funny,” I yell, pointing at the man before me who stands in utter silence, shocked by my aggression.
“I’m so sorry,” my wife interjects. “It was a long drive.”
“No!” I protest. “You really want me to believe that we’re staying in a room called the Butt King Suite?”
“Well, this is the Butt Point Suites,” Carrie interjects.
“And it’s room six-nine?” I cry.
“It’s gotta have a number, why not that one?” my wife replies.
I glance over and notice that one of the hotel security officers is standing in the lobby doorway, his hand on a canister of pepper spray that hangs at his belt. This has gone too far, I tell myself.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, “I just read this book and I’m a little shaken up.”
The man checking me in nods to security, calling them off. “It’s fine, I understand,” he tells me generously.
“It’s just, everything seems so gay,” I admit.
Suddenly, a whole team of handsome young football players burst into the lobby, shouting and cheering as they slap each other on the ass with playful enthusiasm. They are all shirtless, with boyish smiles and an intoxicating, vibrant charm.
The next thing I know I’m sitting up in bed, gasping loudly as my eyes fly open to reveal the posh hotel room surrounding me. It takes a moment to gather my bearings, but I eventually realize that this must be the King Butt Suite.
Carrie, who had been standing by the window and staring out across the endless black ocean, runs over to me. It’s evening now.
“You’re awake,” my wife gushes.
I turn my head to look at her and wince as a bolt of pain shoots through me. “God damn,” I groan.
“Don’t move baby!” my wife instructs. She reaches back behind me and fluffs the pillow, then carefully helps to guide me back down. “You hit your head pretty hard, I thought I was going to have to move you to the hospital soon.”
“I hit my head?” I question. “How?”
“I don’t know!” Carrie admits. “We were just standing in the lobby and suddenly you started to yell about our room, and then this college football team pulled in and the next thing I knew you were on the ground. You fainted.”
I can remember all of this, except for the fainting part, but something about these memories seems like a surreal dream. It’s hard for me to reckon with just how erotic everything had seemed.
“We’re not in a Chuck Tingle book, are we?” I ask my wife.
She laughs. “I don’t think so, sweetie.”
I close my eyes and let the relieved smile creep out across my lips. I can’t believe how ridiculous I’ve been acting, how one little book could so insidiously creep into the depths of my subconscious.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I hope I didn’t ruin our vacation.”
“Just get some rest,” Carrie instructs me. “I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”
I listen as my wife walks about the room, closing the curtains and shutting things down for the night. Eventually, I can feel the covers and sheets pull back, and the body of my lover slide into bed next to me.
She cuddles up close and for a brief moment everything is fine, but the longer that I lie here next to her, the more my anxiety slowly begins to creep back.
Carrie falls asleep quickly, but I’m not quite so lucky. Soon, the minutes turn to hours, a cascade of ever expanding time that I simply cannot escape from. I feel like I’ve been here forever, trying to will myself to sleep and growing more and more frustrated with every half hearted attempt.
There are only so many sheep that a guy can count.
Fortunately, one thing that all of this rest has taken care of is the pounding ache on the back of my head.
“Are you awake?” I ask my wife, softly, already knowing that she’s passed out and unable to respond. My attempts at a little company are futile.
Carefully, I pull away from Carrie and climb out of bed, deciding that the only way I’m going to get any shuteye, at this point, is if I’m completely relaxed. I now remember that the hotel has a hot tub, and if it’s not already closed down for the night then it could serve as the perfect means to chill me out.
Once I maneuver myself out of bed, I pull on my swimming trunks then slowly, quietly, sneak out of our room and into the cool night air.
The entire hotel grounds are lit up beautifully, string lights cascading from palm tree to palm tree throughout the main courtyard, which sits open to the beach on one side. From here I can see the illumination glittering off of the water, dancing in the waves as they pull away from shore in a never ending exodus.
This is nice. This is really, really nice.
I walk along the open hallway and eventually find some stairs, which take me down to the level of the courtyard. It’s surprisingly empty, not another soul in sight, but I suppose there’s no reason to be out this late when you’re just here to soak up the sun.
Still, I can faintly catch the hot tub bubbling and frothing from where I stand. I follow the noise across the lush landscaping and eventually round a corner to find the Jacuzzi, lit from within by an eerie blue glow.
“Hey there,” comes a deep, soulful voice.
I stop, squinting through the darkness at the lone figure who sits peacefully in the bubbling cauldron.
“Hey,” I offer, “mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” the man says.
I take a few steps closer and then, as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I freeze. The figure relaxing in
