On vacation, everything is sexually charged. Especially walks on the beach at midnight. The sand was cool as they walked, the surf pounding to the side, the white froth visible in the otherwise black expanse of space. A few palm fronts had fallen. At dawn, the resort maintenance crews would sweep them up, to tidy the perfect beach for the tourists perfect vacations. But at midnight, they had the beach to themselves.
She had been wearing a bikini all day. It was like getting to wear nothing but her underwear. She'd put on a light dress for dinner, but now as she walked, she wanted to feel the warm tropical breeze on her skin. She pulled off her bikini top and unknotted her dress so the front dropped. She was topless, exposed to the night sky, the moon. She posed at a palm tree for him. Offering herself. They took one photo, and then he took her, there, at the tree, and in the sand. And it was, they agreed, romantic, like playing out a scene they'd imagined in fantasy.