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“Hardly,” I answered simply.

“Damn,” he said. “Too bad. If you’re anything like me—after that road trip—I could fuck holes through sheetrock.”

It was a disturbing visual, all the more so because I could actually imagine Morgan trying it.

“I’m gonna wander around a bit,” I said, and moved off.

“Okay,” he said, following.

I stopped and looked at him. He stopped and looked at me. “I, uh…” I paused. What could I say?

“What?” he asked.

“I was thinking of going down to the beach,” I said. “Alone.” “Okay. Why?”

I paused. Should I just tell him?

“Naked girls.”

That was sort of the truth.

He looked at me as if the thought had never occurred to him. His face brightened more than when we’d watched the girls fight. Which was considerable.

“That’s right,” he said. “I forgot about that.”

“How could you forget about that?” I asked, checking my watch and hurrying toward the lobby. He turned and paced me.

“I don’t know,” he said, lost in the thought. “It’s just such a strange thing. It hasn’t really sunk in yet, I guess.” He slowed down to consider it. “Wow. Naked girls everywhere. It’s like the Playboy mansion.”

Not quite.

Though, I have to admit, I was surprised at the general attractiveness of everyone we saw. Being naked all the time apparently made people want to take greater physical care of themselves. But still, the bodies were wide (and by that, I mean the range, not the actual bodies) and varied, and very few of them were actual centerfold caliber, though—interestingly—still largely attractive in their own way. Somehow clothes make you think the worst of what’s under them. But mostly, a little extra weight and bit of natural sag—not really all that unpleasant. And if it was on a woman, and you’re a heterosexual (as I keep telling you I am), it could be quite appealing indeed. And often surprising. People whose faces wouldn’t have given you pause back home, often had bodies that would stop you in your tracks. And people with amazing looks sometimes had bodies that were somewhat lacking.

Of course, we immediately passed an elderly man whose skin looked as if it had once held three or four extra people inside it and now had no idea what to do with itself other than sulk. He was apparently distantly related to the Shar Pei family. Honestly, though, clothing wouldn’t have made him much more appealing to look at. So—other than him—most people were more attractive than expected in all their various, unadorned glory.

“Wow,” Morgan said, visibly impressed with the increased quantity of feminine nudity. “I wonder if it’s okay to whack off in public, here?”

”Not if you’re anywhere near me, it isn’t,” I told him.

“How do we get to the beach?” Morgan asked me without taking his eyes off the women around us.

“Bike would be the easiest I imagine. I saw, out front, that the hotel rents them by the hour.”

“I wonder if that cute receptionist gives tours?”

He insisted on stopping to ask, and so, needing directions and not wanting to seem as though I had someplace to be, urgently, I stopped with him, fidgeting nervously and continually checking my watch as the minutes raced away.

The receptionist did not ordinarily give tours, but bouncily said she’d be happy to make an exception for us if we wanted to come back when her shift ended at six. Morgan convinced me that that was a fabulous plan of action.

“Do you know anything about a giant head on the beach?” I asked her.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know. The giant one.”

“There’s a big giant one, and a little giant one.”

“Oh,” I consulted my note. “The little giant one, I guess. You know where it is?”

“Sure!” she bounced. “Take the main path in front of the hotel toward the beach. There’s a fork about a half a mile down that leads to the right. Follow that fork until it ends. You can’t miss it!”

Bounce!

“The head?” I asked.

Ba-Bounce!

“The head.”

“It’s a little giant head?”

“Right next to the medium-sized giant head. Both made of stone and left by aliens. The Big Giant Head is in Shining Fields on the other side