Nuclear Jellyfish

DOWN THE HALL

Johnny Vegas couldn’t miss.

The flight attendant had said she was hungry, so he’d bought her dinner and even dessert. Now, time to pay up. What’s fair was fair.

The elevator opened on the third floor. The attendant had a little trouble holding her liquor. She began kissing Johnny and unbuttoning his shirt before he could get the magnetic card in the door. They tumbled inside.

She began ripping off her clothes. Johnny hurried to keep up, breaking his zipper in the rush. She slammed into him for a sloppy kiss, still disrobing in a clumsy, stumbling march across the spacious room. Sensual moaning, items of apparel randomly jettisoned. They reached the back of the suite in front of a magnificent waterfront view from the giant, floor-to-ceiling windows. Night strollers on the beach stopped and pointed up at the northeast corner of the hotel.

Johnny hopped past the TV, yanking off socks. She grabbed him around the neck, tripping backward with feet tangled in panties and pulling Johnny down on top of her. They landed hard on the carpet next to the bed.

Beach strollers sagged as the show disappeared from view.

The flight attendant closed her eyes and panted with shallow breaths. “Hurry …” -reaching down to help accelerate the process. Louder moaning. “Baby, now! …” Johnny positioned himself for the plunge. Finally! After all these years! Goodbye virginity!

More moaning. “Put it in!” Her head fell to the side. She opened her eyes. Staring back from under the bed was the blue, lifeless face of a coin dealer named Henry.

Beach people looked up again toward the source of hysterical shrieking from room 303..

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