“Ten more minutes, Geraldine, then we’ll go. We can do this for ten minutes.”
Mia and I stare at each other.Geraldine, she mouths, and I put a finger to my lips, willing her not to laugh.
“WE’RE DOING IT GERALDINE, WE’RE DOING IT. FUCK YOU, SEAGULLS!”
I slap a hand to my mouth and pinch my nose. I’m so pleased for him. Conquering your fear like this is terrifying and brave, and as his therapist, I’m ecstatic at his progress. However, as a man on a beach with his employee, who is now on her hands and knees in the sand ready to shove her head in it to keep from laughing, I’m barely keeping it together.
“DEATH TO ALL SEAGULLS!”
Okay…what’s wiping out an entire species…just healthy venting people, don’t be alarmed.
“I HOPE THE TRAWLERS GET YOU ALL!”
Mia’s mouth parts in a silent laugh until her throat lets out a guttural gasp of air that sounds close to a honk.
I peek over the rock, and Geraldine has clocked us. Her little ears perk up as she stares at the rock we’re stationed behind.
“MY PENIS IS STILL WORKING, YOU BASTARDS!”
I purse my lips and let out a steady breath before Geraldine begins to trot over to investigate.
Shit, shit, shit.
With wide eyes, I tap Mia’s shoulder and point over the rock.Geraldine is coming,I mouth.
She shakes her head.
What do we do?
I don’t know.
Her head pokes over the rock, and before I can make sense of what she’s doing, her ass is in the sand, and she’s tugging her boots off, launching them over her shoulder. The socks come next, and my brain fumbles as I try to flit my gaze between the incoming bulldog and Mia’s painted toes.
“Get naked. Now,” she whisper-shouts.
“Naked?”I hiss at a much louder volume than I should.
“Come on.”
The whole reason we’re here right now is because Richard got naked on a beach. I know the likelihood of a seagull nipping at my cock is probably low, but who would take that chance? Seagulls certainly have a propensity for Richard and I don’t want to get in the crossfire—especially since he’s currently screaming death to all of them.
The dog is surprisingly agile and jumps onto the rock, barking at such a volume that Richard halts his tirade of genocidal promises on the avian population.
“Fuck it, just take your shoes off and run.”
Mia’s parker is off, her jumper and T-shirt too, leaving her skinny jeans, bare toes and a black lace balcony bra that cradlesher soft pillowy breasts. I want to look away but how could I? My employee who is the most strikingly beautiful woman on the planet is leaning back into the sand, desperately trying to tug off her skin-tight jeans as if we’re about to fuck right here in the sand.
“Who’s there?” Richard calls out.
I yank my shoes off, and Mia pulls me up and tugs me toward the sea. She never did get her jeans off.
Oh my God. We can’t be doing this. We’re going to die in the Pacific Ocean in February. We’ve not even had a hint of spring yet, and Mia is charging toward the thankfully calm ocean. Without fear of stepping onto anything sharp or spiky, she launches herself into the water, presumably because her jeans are too tight for her to keep running.
I follow suit, because what else can I do? Stand at the edge of the shore and risk another beating from another patient?
She paddles out far enough that it's hard to make out our faces. Geraldine, barking at us until Richard stands by her side.
“Fuck, it’s fucking f-freezing,” she whispers.
