At first it seems like a good idea: two weeks on an all-but-deserted island in a one-room cabin owned by Beth’s uncle. It was to be just she and Beth, her roommate for the last three years at State. And then it wasn’t such a great idea. Beth, newly in love, invited Marco to come along. Kayla insisted she could find something else to do, somewhere else to go, or worst case stay on campus, finish writing her Great American novel, or start it, anyway, but Beth also insisted. “You have to come. You’ll see, the place is beautiful beyond belief.”

The place might have been beautiful, but it was shrouded in fog the first two days, and there was no internet, and Beth and Marco spent almost all the time in bed. Kayla had along a notebook for writing that novel, and five pens. So far all the pages were blank. Solitaire Boggle wasn’t such a good game.

On the morning of the third day Kayla couldn’t take it anymore. The sound of Marco and Beth fucking was just too much. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. Harder. Harder! Ha-ha-harder!”

Come, already, Kayla thought. She hurried into her black bikini bottoms, ripped a page from her notebook, and left the note on the kitchen counter: “You two lovebird have a good time. I’m going for a beach walk. Maybe a swim. XXX Kayla.”

The fog hadn’t lifted. It hung low over the water, a moist gray blanket. Kayla strolled along the sand, sometimes stepping into the surf. Come on, sun, burn that fucking fog off.

The sun didn’t listen. Kayla reached the rocky end of the beach. With nothing better to do, she climbed the biggest rock, all of about fifteen feet above the water. Some sort of moss grew on the other side. Kayla felt it with her hand. Soft. Inviting. She sat. Low fog caressed her breasts. Moist springy mossy petted her sex.

Instantly she became aroused. She tried to resist, but she couldn’t. Her hand went between her thighs. Her fingertip kissed her erect clit. Orgasm wrenched her body, obliterated her thoughts.

One cum followed another. The fog swirled and swirled, as if having more than a hand in bringing her off again and again. “Fucking fog,” Kayla cursed, bolting upright. In the end, solo sex wasn’t satisfying.

It was long past noon by the time she got back to the cabin. The note on the kitchen counter lay untouched. Kayla crumpled it in her fist and marched to the bedroom. Marco and Beth were in the middle of some acrobatic sort of sixty-nine on Kayla’s bed.

“What the fuck, you two fuckbirds!” Kayla shouted.

Beth released Marco’s penis. “There you are,” she said. “We wondered where you’d got off to. Want a taste?”

Kayla didn’t hesitate.