Lock, Croc and Two Smoking Barrels

"Honey, if she's awake, we'll get room service and eat it with her. But I bet you she'll be asleep."

Michael took that bet, returning to his room in his towel, his sweaty clothes under his arm. He entered the room and saw Odile curled up in bed, tail moving gently under the sheets. He crossed the room and saw her eyes closed. He turned the television off, set the remote on the nightstand and kissed her on the forehead.

Odile's eyes opened. She looked up at him, smiled and closed them again, going back to sleep knowing he'd be there when she woke.

Michael dried off, dressed and went out to get some lunch, wondering exactly what Missy would wear.

***

A white robe, probably with nothing under it. Michael didn't know why he couldn't have guessed what Missy would wear to a lunch date. While waiting for Michael to realize she was right, she's ordered an assortment of foods that magazines would list as aphrodisiacs: avocado, bananas, pomegranate, coffee and, of course, twelve oysters. Missy got a few looks from fellow lunchgoers as she finally picked the banana up, but they were all disappointed when she sliced it the long way.

Michael was less concerned with that, and more curious why she was spreading the avocado on the sliced banana like peanut butter on toast. Missy picked up on this. "This is like a smoothie, but without the smoothie." She took a bite and chewed it unenthusiastically. She didn't appear to be one of those women who has fooled themselves into thinking they like the food that keeps them trim.

"So... Odile's not jealous?" Missy asked after swallowing.

"No. I hope she understands, I do love her, but... she knows nothing about the real world, so... it's actually hard to have a conversation with her for too long. She's very eager to learn, but... I sort of like that she's not like all the other Florida women out there."

"Yeah, Floridians aren't exactly the cream of the crop." Missy agreed. "Take me, for example."

"Oh, shut up."

"Hey, you wouldn't do me, and my self-esteem has crumbled like cotton candy in the rain." She slurped up a few of her oysters, and it was now apparently to Michael that she was eating in a completely random order.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Said someone behind Michael. He turned his head. It was Kevin. "What are you sitting around for?"

"It's my lunch break." He took a dinner roll and bit into it in protest of this interruption, and in defiance that it was actually lunch rather than dinner.

"Well, Salty Peter's looking for you, apparently."

Michael and Missy traded a knowing glance across the table. "Well, then." Michael stood. "I should be off, then. Why don't you keep my friend company for lunch, then? Missy, this is Kevin."

Missy's eyes widened in excitement. "Oh, so you're Kevin! I've heard so much about you!"

"You have?" Kevin said flatly, as Michael pushed him into his seat.

"I'll talk to you later, Missy." And Michael was off, wondering what all the fuss was about.

If Salty Peter really wanted to see him... he was in trouble.

Chapter 21: School of Croc

Michael heard from his soon-to-be-new-best-friend Kevin that Salty Peter himself was looking for him. The only time they'd really gotten acquainted was when Odile and he were doing the same. He had hoped he had avoided his gaze for... however long he'd be here. He was pretty sure he'd spent more time in Salty Peter's domain than the swamp.

He could try to avoid Peter, but he only made a few announced public appearances. The rest of the time was spent riding around the park on his modified Segway that had a figurehead and a ship's wheel. It was past noon, so the parade was over. Peter could literally be anywhere. It was miraculous he hadn't run into him at some point already; avoiding him was getting increasingly unfeasible.

Maybe he wouldn't recognize him. His mind seemed permanently soaked with brandy. But he couldn't take that chance. He would have to learn where he'd be. The person who'd know that... was in the office.

Michael made his way to the office to talk to Kris, but strode headfirst into the view of Salty Greg. "There you are." Greg said, as Michael tried to hide his surprise. "I've been looking for you. Can you bring her around to re-negotiate the contract? I've finally got Salty Peter for a few minutes."

"He's in there?" Michael pointed to a door with a frosted window in the office.

"Yes, he is."

"Is he hung over?"

"No." Greg said.

Michael sprung his trap. "Is he drunk?"

Greg paused. "He's not sober too often."

"We don't really have a lawyer, but I don't want your lawyer to come to us in a few weeks to re-negotiate again because now Salty Peter wasn't capable due to being intoxicated at the time. So... maybe now's not the best time."

"Like I said, he's not sober very often, so..."

"That's a bigger problem than our contract dispute." Michael said. "This is his health we're talking about. We can wait for him to have a day where he's reasonably sober to do this. I think that'd be best."

Greg shrugged, defeated. "Alright. I'll tell him to find a day to lay off the sauce and we'll try to work it in then."

Michael tried not to visibly relax, but this was the desired result. The day Salty Peter would be sober would hopefully never come, at least not before they finally got out of there. "Thank you for being so understanding." Michael said, turning to leave.

"Did you get this memo?" Kris said meekly, holding a few papers up under Michael's nose. He took the unstapled papers from her. He thanked her and left.

Between two memos about the upcoming July 4th planning, there was one about employees taking too much soda from the concession stands on their breaks. Evidently, people were filling up their own cups rather than using the provided paper cups. Scandal!

Of much greater interest was the new Xerox of Kris' ass, with a lipstick print on the paper over the left cheek, adding to the value of this like the certificate of authenticity of a signed baseball.

Michael had to hand it to her. Kris had figured out a system in which employees actually looked at the memos.

He returned to the room, bringing an uncooked pork chop from the kitchen. He gently rose Odile from her slumber and watched as she ate her chop. She'd never had a pig out in the swamp. The waters were too deep for any pig to wander out without getting eaten by some other predator first. Also, pigs probably weren't native to Florida anyway.

After the late lunch was finished, he finally brought out a pad of paper with Salty Peter's cartoon face plastered on it. On each page, there was a letter written in pencil. He flipped the notebook to a random page and she successfully identified every letter from memory. The only mistake she made was with the letter 'W,' but calling it "double-thing" was close enough for now.

Odile's reward for passing the test was to go back to sleep, and Michael's reward was taking a nap next to her, because, what the hell, if they aren't going to mess around, he might as well relax.

***

Odile's appearance at the animal extravaganza concluded, Missy invited her and Michael to visit another oft-neglected section of the hotel, an offshoot of the gym. Clad in towels, the trio entered the hotel's sauna. Odile walked a little shyly though the halls to get there, hoping to not be seen. Michael stayed behind her, looking at her tail, it keeping her towel from covering her rear.

Missy held the door open for them, letting them take a seat on the wooden bench. Before the door was even fully closed, Missy dropped her towel. She messed with a control panel near the door, and the coal-bearing stove in the center of the sauna turned on.

Odile sat with her towel on in the corner, but Missy encouraged her to take a more natural posture for her. She demonstrated by spreading her towel out on the bench, lying down on her belly, her breasts spilling forward onto the bench and looking even more generous. She pulled her phone out from somewhere and patiently waited for the heat to rise to where the steam would fog her phone.

Despite the sneers and glowers she got from strangers, Odile was not one to be shy about her body. She shed her towel, but did not spread it on the wood. She was used to resting on the dock of her shack. She spread out like Missy, leaving room for her tail to hang from the bench, pointing lazily towards the floor.

Michael looked back and forth between them, and whipped his towel off as well, folding it and resting it in the corner, where he sat. Now he could tell his friends he'd been surrounded by beautiful naked chicks and it would be true.

Time passed, the heat slowly grew, and they sat there. Michael had his hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. Odile was almost certainly asleep, her arms folded and her head resting within them. There was no sound but for the occasional hiss of the stove and the very faint beep from Missy's phone.

Once the stones in the stove were hot enough, Missy spooned some water out of the wooden pail onto the stones. They turned to steam immediately, and the atmosphere slowly changed to the humidity one associates with a sauna, or a swamp.

The hiss of the evaporating water stirred Odile. She looked up.

"So... you live in this part of the world, where it's always humid..." Odile said, the heat giving her some energy. "And then you use those machines to make the air cool and dry. And to relax, you go into a room and put the water and heat back into the air."

Michael looked over to her, a sheen of sweat forming on his tanned body. "I guess so."

Odile scoffed. "You cityfolk..."

"Do you feel better?" Missy asked Odile, her body dotted with moisture.

"I do." She sat up, breathing out her mouth hard. "I'd almost forgotten what warm felt like."

Missy looked to Michael, pointing with her eyes towards Odile. She rose her eyebrows suggestively.

Michael looked to Odile. Seeing her smile gently, even as she panted like a dog, her scales shining with dew, her deep cleavage inviting, her tail waving...

"Odile?" Michael got her attention. She looked up, and Michael kissed her. That got them started. He advanced over her, and they kissed wildly. They knew Missy was there, watching, and that was no problem at all.

Michael had stayed at half-chub while the room got hotter, but now he was ready to unleash his kraken.

Turning her back over onto her stomach and pulling her firmly, but slowly, by the tail until her knees slipped off the bench. Holding her by the very base of her tail, holding it up out of the way, he probed his fingers within her. Odile lowered her head, then pulled it back upwards, her mouth a 'O.' Missy dropped a spoonful of water on the coals, filling the room the steam. To be fair, she wasn't sure they needed the help.

Withdrawing his fingers, Michael went for it, pressing himself into her while holding the base of her tail. He pumped back and forth, gently at first, sliding all the way in, and then... much less gentle. He found "doggy-style," if that was the appropriate term, to be a less interactive style than missionary: her breasts and face were facing away from him, less accessible. But Odile seemed to really like it. This was probably the way she was used to it.

Breaking her previous promise that she never masturbated, Missy found her hand rubbing the peak of her womanhood, biting her lip as she watched this spectacle. She sped up at the same rate Michael did, but found she couldn't keep up. Normal masturbation was just so boring. She pulled out her phone, silenced it and repeatedly rubbed her lock screen in the wrong pattern just to feel the buzz of the "vibrate on touch" feature.

Michael's hand left Odile's tail, and went to her buttocks, planting one on each as he sped up moreso, craning his head back.

And that's when the fire alarm went off. An absolutely unreasonably loud, ear-shattering squawk that would surely cause hearing loss if endured for too long,

Michael jumped back, leaving Odile in her compromising position. She staggered to her feet, one foot planted on Michael's towel right as he jerked it from the floor. The towel ripped in half, leaving him with a piece no larger than a dish towel.

"What is happening?!" Odile screamed over the noise, grabbing her towel. Missy grabbed her phone and towel and the three dashed out of the sauna, the gym, and the hotel, taking an exit nobody else seemed to be using. Michael left the paved area with the parasols and tables and ran further down, into the brush closer to the beach, covering himself with the shredded towel.

The alarm could still be heard, even that far from the hotel. Michael couldn't seem much of what was going on from his vantage point.

"This wasn't a fire drill, was it?" Missy said. "I've been there for one of those, but they didn't actually set the alarm off."

"No, I think someone pulled the fire alarm for real."

A pause. The susurrus of trees and grass hummed all around them.

"Goddamn, it's freezing out here." Missy shivered, finally taking the time to wrap the towel around herself.

"It's just the contrast from the sauna." Michael looked at Odile, holding her towel to her side brazenly like Michaelangelo's David with the sling over his shoulder. "Odile, may I?" He outstretched his hand and she gave him the towel without hesitation. He wrapped his lower body in the towel.

"What do we do?" Odile asked.

"We're going to wait here until the fire trucks come and go." Michael said.

"Why?"

"Because there is a chance someone pulled that fire alarm on purpose to shake Odile out." Michael said. "They knew you were here, since you did the show maybe an hour ago."

"You're being paranoid." Missy said.

"I have to be." Michael said. "If this is a regular fire alarm, they'll check the whole building, but they're not necessarily going to check the bushes out here. If someone comes looking for us, then it's because they wanted to smoke someone out of the building."

"Should I hide?" Odile asked.

He looked to her. In the low light, she faded very nicely into the grasses. "I suppose that should be pretty easy." Odile slipped into the grass and crawled on her belly, and Michael immediately lost sight of her. His Florida education had not prepared him for this evidence of the millions of years of evolution that she had apparently gone through. He could hardly ever confidently walk through grass again, for fear of placing his foot down and pulling back a stump.

Michael and Missy waited. Missy took off her towel and put it on the ground so she wouldn't have to sit her bare rear on the sand. The sun was low enough that the sand wasn't hot, but she wasn't about to get any in her crack. She shivered as the gentle breeze evaporated her sweat, and she tried to snuggle up to Michael, but he moved away.

"If you want my big towel, I'll go back to the little one." Michael offered. "You've all seen my dick, so..."

"It's OK." Missy smiled. "I'll be fine once I dry off." She unlocked her phone and checked the time.

"You said you didn't masturbate." Michael said, looking at the phone.

"Well, not all the way. Speaking of which... do you want me to just finish you off?"

"No, but thank you." He adjusted his wilting erection through the towel.

"Are you really saving it for her? How long has it been?"

"Eighteen days? Who cares? When we finally don't get interrupted, it'll be nice."

Missy leaned over to Michael and pecked him on the cheek. "You're a special kind of guy, Mike."

"Hey!" A voice called out from a distance. Without warning, Missy threw Michael's towel off and jumped on top of him. Too startled to say anything, he froze as he saw a person emerge from the edge of the path. "Whoa!" The man said. He was fortyish, dressed in a polo, as if he'd walked off the golf course. Missy jumped off Michael and pulled the towel in front of her. Michael grabbed the one Missy was previously sitting on and covered himself. "You two OK? Someone pulled the fire alarm."

"We were fine until you came over here and ruined the mood." Missy said.

"Didn't look like he was into it..." The guy shrugged.

How was it the only time it would be advantageous to be caught with your boner out, he didn't have one? "I'm not into her, I'm sorry."

"Why not? Jesus, she's a babe."

Michael had to say something. "She's my sister."

The man cocked his head to the side. Missy grabbed Michael and kissed him regardless. "Alright, I'm out of here." The man made his escape.

"Oh, what's the big deal?" Missy cried out, still holding Michael in his arms. "This is the South! It's Florida! It's like the double-South!" Once the man was out of view, he turned sharply back to Michael. "I'm your sister?" She hissed incredulously. "Was that really the best you could come up with?"

"What am I going to say? I'm impotent?"

"That would have been better, yes."

"Can I come out now?" Odile asked from the tall grass, in a move that went against all her instincts.

"Yes, I think we're clear." Michael went over and coaxed her out of the vegetation like a gentleman helping her step out of a carriage. The three stood there for a moment.

"I reckon you were right." Odile said. "I think someone's got a keen interest in me."

"This is going to keep happening as long as you're doing that stupid show." Michael said.

"I thought we took care of that." Missy said.

Michael's eyes fell on Missy severely. "No. The people looking for Odile... I wish they were hippies."

Chapter 22: Croc You Like A Hurricane

Michael got up slightly early, but no less brightly. He skipped breakfast and went to the back halls to find one of the only other people in this godforsaken resort he trusted. He knocked on the office door and heard the gentle mouselike voice of Kris through the door, asking for him to come in.

"Hey, Kris." Michael said. "Can I ask a favor?"

She stopped typing briefly. Michael knew this meant she was definitely paying attention. "Regarding what?" Kris asked softly. It was like she didn't remember that time where she Xeroxed his cock.

Michael persisted. "My friend is the performer who plays Alli in Salty Greg's Animal Show thing. You gave me a copy of the contract, and... it's really weird. It's written like some old-fashioned parley between pirates."

"That's Salty Peter's stylistic choice. The contracts are still legally valid." Kris noted.

"Well, my friend who plays Alli..." Michael kept trying to avoid using her name. "I don't think she had adequate legal representation at the time. I want to re-negotiate it."

"I could schedule a meeting with Salty Peter, if you like."

Michael was also avoiding that. "Maybe you could just show me the original."

Kris squinted suspiciously. "Why do you need to see the original? I gave you a copy. Weren't you happy with it?"

"Ecstatic." He said. "But..."

"Are you trying to get out of the contract by destroying the original?" Kris said.

Michael was disarmed.

His silence answered her question. She continued, "Obviously, I can't let you do that. But I assure you, Salty Peter is easygoing with contract negotiations. You have nothing to fear."

Michael sighed a bit, and Kris went back to her word processing. He turned to leave, but she stopped him. "Did you get this memo?" She typed numbers with her right hand and held the memo aloft with her left. Michael took the papers from her and flipped to the middle. Folded within was a collage of photocopies of Kris, from her face to her legs, all nude and roughly arranged into a slightly fractured centerfold.

He gasped and folded the uneven pictures back into the document. He looked to Kris, who looked back from her desk with a growing grin. She sighed and returned to her work. Say what you will about Kris' meek demeanor, she knew how to make her job fun. And his. If he actually worked here.