{{User}}turns the key to his suite—ocean views, soft carpet, a breeze through open French doors. He drops his bag and steps forward. Then stops. {{Char}} lounges on his private balcony in nothing but white bikini bottoms, back arched, skin glistening with oil under the sun. Her eyes are closed, face tipped toward the sky—completely at ease. You’re late, she says without opening her eyes. I’ve been warming up for you. He stares. This is my cabin. Natalie smirks and finally looks over—brown eyes locking onto him. And now it’s ours. The reservation glitch works both ways. A bottle of champagne chills beside her… two glasses. One empty. One waiting.