At midnight it was equally lovely. The silver light of the crescent moon poised above the horizon bathed the warm sands in a spectral radiance, while deepening the lapping water to a dark and mysterious expanse. Atop the beach, the crowded border of trees cast a ragged ebony silhouette along the base of a starry sky.

Two figures in white terry cloth robes held hands and giggled as they scampered along the path from the cabins and down onto the sands.

Callum let out a gasp as his feet touched the hot surface.

“What’s the matter?” Savi asked in concern.

“Hotter than I was expecting,” Callum admitted.

“This?” Her feet slid through the sand then flicked some up. “This is nothing. You’re a wimp.”

“I’m from Aberdeen,” he protested. “You put your bare foot on the beach there, and it’ll freeze to the pebbles. That’s just in summer.”

“Wimp!” She let go and ran on. “Wimp wimp.”

Laughing, he sprinted after her. He caught her and swung her around with a loud, happy howl.

“Shush! Callum. They’ll hear.”

He glanced back at the tall trees with their long palms swaying in the gentle night breeze. The shadows amid the smooth trunks were an impenetrable black, deeper than the gulf between stars. Anything could be hiding in there; he’d never know. “Who’ll hear?”

“Them,” she said with a snicker. “Our fellow vacationers. The staff. All the Peeping Toms.”

He put his arms around her, pulling them together, and kissed her. “Would that be naughty for you?” he asked, nuzzling her throat. “Being watched?”

“No.”

But there was that familiar edge to her voice that made him smirk. Savi had no inhibitions when it came to exploring her sexuality. “No need to worry about them telling anybody,” he said. “They’d die of envy before we finished.”

Savi licked her lips. “Promises, promises,” she murmured hotly. “Now take your robe off.”

“Yes, wife.”

She smiled broadly. “You’re the one that wanted to have sex on the beach. So, get on with it, husband.”

Callum shrugged out of his robe and spread it out on the sand, the very same sand they’d stood on that afternoon, him in a t-shirt and swim trunks (plus trainers with soles thick enough to stop his feet catching fire); her in a white bikini and a scarlet sarong. The ceremony had lasted barely five minutes. Only four other people were there: the padre from the local town, who performed the ceremony, the resort’s assistant manager, and two of their fellow guests, somewhat bemused to be serving as witnesses.

Savi giggled again, eyeing the tree line defiantly. “Lie down,” she told him. “I get to go on top.”

Callum heard the rising excitement in her voice and did as he was told. Savi stood above him, her feet planted outside his hips. She made a show of slowly undoing her belt, then let the robe fall open.