Beachside Temptations
I stared blankly at the women. They were striking beauties with sun-bronzed skin and neat rows of white teeth flashing in broad smiles. But... pretty, sure, but they paled in comparison to my girls by a long shot. They were just ordinarily pretty—no real allure.
"Sorry, but you're not really my type..."
"What are you doing here?"
Someone interrupted me, rushing in and latching onto my arm. I lost my grip on Kali, who leaped down and bolted toward the women who'd been chatting me up. The rascal sank his teeth into the bikini bottom of one and yanked, trying to rip it off. The women screamed, clutching desperately to keep them in place.
"Hey, you mutt! Cut that out!"
I grabbed Kali by the scruff, and with a rrrip, the side of the bikini bottom tore clean off in his jaws.
"Oops! Sorry about that."
The women made a huge fuss, clutching their torn bikinis as they scampered off. Kali drooled from his mouth, barking wildly at their retreating backs.
"Quiet!"
Only after I smacked his snout with my palm did he finally shut up. The commotion drew every eye in the vicinity straight to me. Great, just drop the dog once and look what happens. What a humiliation. Who the hell had clung to me anyway?
I turned to the person still wrapped around my arm.
"Saintess...?"
It was Celereja, who was supposed to be with the staff in the changing room. She'd changed into a swimsuit in no time and was gazing up at me.
"Bertrand... do you know those women?"
"Nah, first time seeing them. If I knew them, would this mess have happened? Anyway..."
I trailed off, scanning the saintess up and down. Her swimsuit was a pristine white one with a frilled skirt, perfectly complementing her ash-gray hair and pale skin. The thin shoulder straps cradled her deep cleavage, accentuating her slender, smooth shoulders and delicate collarbones. It tapered to her narrow waist, flaring into a pleated skirt that softly draped over her thighs. Below, her legs gleamed under the midsummer sun, dainty feet tucked into sandals peeking out shyly.
Catching my gaze, Celereja spun playfully. The skirt fluttered up jauntily, flashing white panty-style bottoms. The back plunged almost to her tailbone—demure in front like a proper lady, but boldly revealing behind, as if embodying her dual nature.
"What do you think...?"
"It's gorgeous on you. Suits you perfectly, Saintess."
"Hee... thank you... But those women... you really don't know them, right?"
She glanced toward where the women had vanished, seeking firm confirmation once more.
"I swear. Kali asked what kind they were, so I just answered."
"Hmm... okay then..."
If I'd admitted they'd been hitting on me, she'd probably chase them to the ends of the earth... Underworld, even.
"Where are the others, though? Why are you alone?"
"I wanted to show you first, Bertrand... so I hurried ahead by myself..."
Celereja blushed, sticking out her tongue just a bit. Right now, she wasn't the stern saintess—just a pure, lovely young lady.
"Where you headed, anyway?"
"To the inn to book rooms ahead of time. Wouldn't want to show up and find none available."
"Mind if I tag along?"
"Sure."
Grace Bay Club seemed to refer to the pair of massive buildings looming before us. Perched on a platform about this high—ten meters?—the five-story structures exuded an intimidating presence even from below. Remarkably, the seaward facades were clad entirely in white marble veined with subtle patterns. Probably because wood alone would rot from the salty sea winds before long.
Behind the two buildings, another was under construction. Judging by the foundation, it would be at least as large, if not bigger. Fitting for a marquis's estate.
We ascended the broad central stairs of the meticulously stacked stone platform. They led to a long plaza paved with neat flagstones. Nestled between the towering buildings, the open-air space brimmed with tables where swimsuit-clad or lightly dressed patrons enjoyed light meals or drinks. Each table sported a parasol, and staff in crisp white shirts bustled about, serving with efficiency. Impressive.
The ground floors of the adjacent buildings were fully open, stocked with amenities and simple kitchens to cater to plaza guests. A bartender twirled shakers to mix cocktails on the spot; a chef carved tender suckling pig from a spinning barbecue grill; masseuses kneaded the backs of lounging guests; manicurists tended women's nails... and more.
"I thought places like this only existed in the capital's heart..."
Celereja linked arms with me, gazing around the plaza and buildings in bewilderment.
"Looks like a full-service resort—everything you need right here. I've seen similar setups at other beaches, but nothing this grand."
A server spotted us standing there like country bumpkins fresh off the farm and approached with a friendly smile.
"Shall I show you to a table?"
A far cry from that rude jerk who'd shooed us from our spot earlier. Makes sense—security grunts chasing illegal campers aren't the same as hospitality staff.
"No thanks. Here for the inn."
"Inn? Ah, you mean the hotel. Entrance is that way. Enjoy your stay."
He pointed to the building on our right. Its center featured a protruding second-floor terrace upheld by pillars—the grand entrance. Carriages streamed in from the avenue opposite the plaza, which must be the main road. Staff waited to open doors and handle luggage. Top-tier service, straight out of the capital's finest hotels.
At the entrance, a server greeted us with a smile.
"Good day, sir?"
"Here to book a room."
"This way, please. I'll check availability."
He reached for Kali, but I waved him off—handling an energetic hound like this isn't for amateurs. We followed him inside.
Celereja marveled at the transparent glass doors. Even I was a bit surprised. Glass wasn't rare, but full-paneled doors? Never crossed my mind.
"Oh my goodness..."
The lobby was vast, pristine, luxurious. A dazzling chandelier hung from the high ceiling; walls bore portraits of bearded dignitaries—likely Marquis Kekers among them. Velvet sofas hosted chatting guests; porters in gold-trimmed carts wheeled luggage with precise movements. Faint music drifted from a low stage in the corner, where a pianist played.
"We'll check rooms at the desk."
The server led us into the lobby. Its floor gleamed like a mirror—polished marble. Exaggerating a tad, you could almost peek up Celereja's skirt from beside her. Overwhelmed by the opulence, she clung to my arm, tiptoeing gingerly. Adorably so—I couldn't help chuckling.
"You seem right at home here, Bertrand... This is all so alien to me..."
Sure, Grace Bay Club Hotel was impressively appointed. But compared to the royal palace? Child's play. The sheer awe I'd felt stepping into the palace defied words.
The desk was a glossy lacquered wooden bar, etched with smooth relief patterns of arcane motifs. Worlds apart from our inn's plain counter. Pretty attendants smiled, assisting guests.
Our server guided us to an open line and bowed out.
"Welcome."
The attendant bowed to Celereja and me. She nodded awkwardly in return. I handed over the slip from the beach server.
"Booking rooms. Rented four parasols on the beach earlier."
"How many in your party?"
"Seven people, one dog."
She checked the ledger and smiled.
"Perfect—we have suitable rooms. Three doubles and one single?"
"Just doubles and singles? No larger suites?"
"Apologies, sir—we start at doubles. Otherwise, I recommend a suite."
Hmm... Suite's got a living room and multiple bedrooms—might work better. Let's check the price.
"How much for a suite?"
She opened her mouth to reply, then froze, staring past me. Suddenly, nearly every staffer in the lobby rushed toward the entrance.
