Welcome to the Fish Tank

"Miss...?" the hula-skirted waitress prompted, her slightly warning tone suggesting that perhaps Jillian had had enough to drink, and that if she wasn't careful she might ending up having her big fake tits pop out of her dress -- again.

"I'm okay...thank you, it's just a little dark...in here," Jillian replied blearily, ignoring the waitress's scornful stare, and pulling her dress up to cover a partially exposed nipple. It had been her fourth bar of the evening, this one boasting the biggest aquarium of any bar on Maui (it wasn't, and though it was quite large it certainly wasn't big enough to support a mermaid, let alone two). She turned back and watched the fish swim about, darting here and there, flashing their fins as she wished she could.

She leaned forward, resting her forearm against the thick glass, intently watching the occupants swimming back and forth, as mindful of her as she was of the watchful eyes of the rest of the bar's patrons. Sighing, she rested her head upon her forearm and took another sip of her drink, a gimlet, its yellow-green color more or less complementing her dress, or her surrogate tail, as she had come to think of it. So beautiful, she thought wistfully, her whole attention on the undersea world in front of her.

"Last call, everybody!" announced the bartender, ringing a reproduction ship's bell.

She sighed and took another sip of her drink. "I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow," she whispered, slurring her words slightly, "or some of your brothers at the Ocean Center, maybe, after I find an apartment." She didn't move from her spot, but rather closed her eyes and let out a long breath, imagining herself inside the tank, dreaming of a better life, unaware of the lone male cruising by, checking out the defenseless Jillian.

* * * * * *

The beautiful, olive-skinned woman looked out over the floor of the bar, the smoky glass of the private lounge making her all but invisible to the people below, most of whom were ordering their last rounds. She bit her lower lip pensively, her arms wrapped around her, barely visible beneath her expansive bosom. The gorgeous redhead leaning against the glass of the fish tank was drunk, unhappy, and certainly no match for the predatory males who were waiting for the bar to close. It was wrong, leaving her out here like this.

She turned to face the elderly man sitting on the other side of the glass-topped table, his bright blue eyes fixed upon the screen of his laptop. She moved closer to the table, flowed around it, and stopped when she came to the side of his powered wheelchair, gently placing a beautifully-manicured hand upon his shoulder, glancing quickly at the title of the paper he was proofreading: Stem Cells -- An Evolutionary Link to the Past?

He looked up, without irritation, despite the fact that she was interrupting him at his work, his expression expectant, as though he already knew what she wanted. She looked down at him and gave him a weak smile, her head slightly tilted, the brows above her violet eyes arched. Please?

The old man smiled at her indulgently, gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and then returned to his work.

* * * * * *

She was floating. She felt light, and warm, swaying lazily, as though she were riding just below the crest of a wave. But a hand upon her back roused her from her reverie. She turned, drink in hand, ready to gut whatever dumb male had taken her from her wonderful dream.

The beautiful brunette standing before her smiled, showing perfect white teeth that shone like pearls, her violet eyes alight with joy. Her dress was a virtual twin to her sparkly green one, save for hers was dark blue with silver highlights. Around her throat was a necklace, each link a sterling silver figure eight, the two ends joined together at the hollow of her throat by a small, beaten-silver plaque, engraved upon it a single word in elegant script.

Marina burst into tears, and drifted into Pelagia's warm embrace.

The End