Jason stretched tall, arms above her head, as she left the plane, a soft groan passing her lips. She tried to ignore the tell-tale shifting of the guys gawking at her - she had been dealing with that for a while now - and almost succeeded. The trip to Havana from Ottawa had been tiring, more from a pile of annoyances than any physical trial, and Jason was ready to just spend some time in her hotel room.

"Well, guess you`re right again Kat, I shoulda shelled out for the first class tickets. That just sucked," Jason said in her slightly accented, mellifluous soprano, lush lips almost pouting at her short friend.

"Da! That's right superstar. You might be built like Knockout now," Katya said in an accent thicker than Jason's faint one, poking her in one of her spectacular boobs, "but I have been a woman longer than you. You and Knockout together, so you should listen to my vast experience, new girl."

Katya arched a brow, blatantly eyeing the incredibly curvaceous, preternatural beauty of Jason's 6'2'' figure up and down, an impish smile on her lips. She was dressed in black, sprayed-on denim short-shorts that revealed her unbelievably long legs and the bands of her thong, running shoes, and a very tight, baby blue, spaghetti strap tank top that showed off a bit of flat, toned midriff. The top had a black arrow pointing up, and writing distorted by the very buxom torso restrained inside. With a careful glance it could be seen to say: My eyes are up here...

Jason looked back at Kat, a blush creeping into her stunning features. Despite her own feelings and Kat's playfulness, Kat only saw her as a friend now, albeit one that was fair game to tease, hence the outfit. Yesterday, Kat had made her a bet based on the stupidity of guys around pretty girls and big boobs. Jason had backed her former gender, and lost, giving Kat the right to dress her up for the trip as she chose. She was greatfully thankful; it could have been much worst.

Jason sniffed, then tossed her head to shake a tendril of silvery hair out of her face. "This is the last time I'm gonna play Barbie for you Kat. Com'on, let's get our luggage and get to the hotel. I thought you wanted to do some sight seeing before my fight tomorrow night?"

Jason hitched her carry-on on her shoulder, then turned on her heel, her lengthy, wild, silvery pony-tail flaring before brushing across her heart-shaped ass with each long stide she took towards the luggage carousel. Katya gave a low chuckle as she hurried to catch up to her overly beautiful, former boyfriend. "<It won't be the last time you play Barbie, Jase>," She said softly in Russian.

Jason's path through José Marti International was very easy to follow. Even in a cosmopolitan tourist trap like Havana, full of Elites, Celebrities, and tourists, Nova and baseline alike, Jason stood out. Everything about her proclaimed her Homo Sapiens Novus, from her sheer good looks, rarely matched and even more rarely exceeded, to her impossibly smooth, swaying strut. She was completely unconscious of the innate, intensely captivating presence she possessed, that managed to be both wholesome and stimulating.

Heading to the luggage carousel, Jason thought back on the trip to Havana, letting out a long, soft sigh. It had started with Katya laying out her outfit for the day with a bright smile. Then at Macdonald-Cartier International Airport, they were trying out a new Facial Recognition Security System, and she had been flagged because, according to their files, her face didn't match the name on her passport. They had believed she was a certain Danielle Waters, not Jason Bellefleur. After the problem had been sorted out, they had been properly apologetic, especially the guard who had insisted on a body search, but it had still nettled her. Not only had she lost her own gender when she had erupted, to some, she had also lost her own unique identity.

At the ticket booth, the woman had just assumed that she would upgrade her ticket to first class, Katya said that she should, and when Jason had declined, the look she gave her was almost condescending, as if to say, What type of cheap-ass Nova are you? How Jason wished she had taken the upgrade.

The seats had been too close together for comfort, thanks to her very long legs. Steve-from-Winnipeg had actually known who she was, and wouldn't stop talking to her tits about the hockey draft and the last minute trades. There was the one kid, fifteen or so, who keep passing up and down the aisle, trying to be sneaky taking pictures of her with his cellphone; she had felt very satisfied when on one trip, she had leaned over and taken a deep breath, giving him a full view, and the kid had tripped and landed on his boner. She hadn't seen him for the rest of the flight. Then there was the old man in the window seat with a bladder the size of a raisin. With her legs pressed against the seat in front of her, it was always tricky letting him pass. She had never figured out if the guy had been trying to cop a feel, or really just had a bladder the size of a raisin.

Here in Havana, passing through customs was easy, taking no more time then letting the official read her shirt, then stamp her passport. She picked up all of her and Katya's bags with effortless ease, then, making sure Katya was still with her, headed outside.

At least having Quantum-filled tits was good for something. She threw back her shoulders and waved a hand, and in less than twenty seconds she had three taxis racing for her. She pounded on the trunk of the first taxi to reach her, and packed in her and Katya's luggage. She slid into the back, with Katya sliding in next to her.

"Ok, dude, can you take-" Jason was caught off by the ebullience of the driver.

"Miss Knockout! I see you fight, see the fight for real! You are the most beautiful woman in the world-"

"Whoa! I'm not Knock-"

"-with the most beautiful gazongas in the world. You fight again? You come to great Havana for Havok, to fight again, Miss Knockout? Tickets-"

"I'm not Knock-"

"-you can get extra, yes? Miss Knockout, no man can beat such beauty. I take you where you want go, and we talk. Where do you go, Miss Knockout?"

"... Sigh. Hotel Saratoga."

You can do anything in Havana right? For a price? How much would it cost to kick his fuckin' chair through his fuckin' windshield, with him fuckin' in it?

"We shoulda flown coach."

Conrad was staring out the window, waving to to the people below. "Why's that, Danno?"

"It's cheaper, is all." Danielle readjusted her glasses. She was in disguise, her usual superhuman proportions tamped down into the form of an average-looking mousy blonde. This prompted a few Clark Kent jokes until she managed to fool even Conrad, and then he'd shut up.

Danielle was still female, though. That was one hurdle uncleared. She didn't want to call it a problem, since really, it wasn't a problem... it wasn't as if half the world didn't have to go through being female, many of which is much less tolerant societies than Canada, most of which without the ability to lift a car.

Danielle hated it when she shortcircuited her ability to feel sorry for herself.

"Cheaper? Aren't they paying you big bank?"

"Yeah, but - " But I have to pay for all those drinks you're inhaling. "I dunno, I'm not super-rich or anything. I just paid off the student loan." And yours.

"Put it on credit! Or hell, do something that pulls in the cash, like that thing I talked about - "

"No."

"Suit yourself. Huge market out there for it."

"I'm sure." Danielle sighed, and tore open a packet of peanuts. She popped a couple into her mouth. "Maybe you should tell this Bellefleur about it."

"I totally should! I bet I turned him into a hot chick too."

Danielle felt the beginnings of a headache. "I... really don't think it was you."

"Oh, so he erupted and spontaneously wanted to look like you?"

"Eh. It happens. Weird things go through your head when you erupt."

"Yeah, I dunno what I was thinking when I got super-ottoman powers. Must have been a one-time deal."

"Anyways, I'm gonna see if I can run into her before the show. Let her know that if she wants to call herself Knockout, that's fine by me."

"But that's an awesome name! I came up with it!"

"C'mon. I mean... c'mooooon. 'Knockout?'"

"You knock people out and you look hot. I dunno what else to say."

"How about, 'If you want people to call you by your real name that's fine by me?'"

"Okay, Daniel." Conrad put emphasis on the end of the word.

"That's not what I - I mean - pfwuh." Danielle sat back. She flagged the waiter. "Now I need a drink."



"Danno? Don't look now, but I think I see your better half."

"Michelle? She's here?" Danielle looked around the airport, holding a luggage bag with one hand.

"No, not her."

"Flicker?"

"No, that other Canadian transexual super-bombshell."

"Oh." Danielle looked around, and spotted her. "Oh my."

"Oh yeah."

"Oh holy - hot - " Danielle blushed deeply. "Oh sweet Jesus does my butt do that?"

"A little."

"Do my, you know, bounce like that?"

"You told me not to stare."

"But you did anyways."

"In that case, yeah, they do. Uh - Danno - " Conrad tugged on Danielle's sleeve. "You're slipping. And floating."

Danielle blinked, and looked down. She was indeed slipping - looking normal took near-constant concentration and she could see her clothing filling out. More than that, she could wiggle her feet and not touch the ground, a bad habit she'd picked up when distracted. "Shit, shit. Uh... hoo. Dead babies, uh, Brian Mulroney, the Beachcombers on a cold day..."

Danielle came back down to Earth, the disguise slipping back into place. "Jesus, she's hot."

"You realize you're looking at yourself?"

"Yeah. She's still hot."

"Uh." Conrad arched an eyebrow. "Danno, do you ever... you know... look at yourself?"

"What? No!"

"Danno - it's me."

"... a little. But just a little! Just at first. God. Wonder where she's staying."

"We're booked at Sarah's Toga, right? The Greek place?"

"Saratoga, and it's not Greek, and they'll break a plate over your head if you say it is. Car rental's over there."

"You see that with your x-ray vision?"

"No, I rented it through Hertz." She pointed at the Hertz rental car logo. "If she's not there at the hotel, I'll see her later, and if she is, well... we'll see."

Ryusei appeared at the entrance to the Saratoga in a flash of light carrying a small suitcase, dressed in a light khaki ensemble and tennis shoes. He went into the desk and smiled as he greeted the receptionist who if fazed by his looks didn't really show it. She must have been here some time.

"I have a reservation for Hideyoshi, First Name Ryusei." The attendant looked up the name and then her eyes did grow large when she saw that the client had reserved an entire floor of the Saratoga.

"Ah Mister Hideyoshi.."

"Ryusei will be fine."

"I think my manager would like to speak with you."

"Then by all means go and get him. I have time."

She left and came back with an older gentelmen dressed in a fine suit. "Mister Hideyoshi, We are so glad you chose us for lodgings while in Havanna."

"I've heard good things in my travels, and decided to see them myself." The young nova smilesand the Older man nods.

"If I or the staff can be of any service to you while you are here, please do not hesitate to ask."

Ryusei nods. "I'll let you know. If you would, I'd like to be shown to my room now."

The Manager nods once and as opposed to caling a bellhop takes Ryusei's suitcase and turns to show him to the Private Elevator granted to higher paying guests.

The bright, yellow sun washed the gleaming buildings of post-Castro Havana with a sepia tone, the golden glare obfuscating the dereliction and neglect of the previous decades. It's so different from when I was here for vacation ten years ago. Everywhere that Jsaon looked, she saw structures that looked like they had been absconded from Las Vegas and transplanted to a version of Miami. She kept expecting to hear The Who blaring at any moment.

Jason sat in the back of the taxi, her arms folded beneath her impressive bust, her lips tight, teeth gritted. She hated cars, even since she had been severely injured in an accident several years ago, and she felt a trace of phantom pain trace a path up her spine. Kat kept looking at her out of the corner of her eye, an grin threatening to break on her face at any moment. Bitch! Somehow, she knew this was gonna happen.

Jason marvelled at the driver's ability to split his focus between the road and her rack, maybe 30/70, and still hit every bump and pothole on the road. Without a bra, her gravity-defying breasts were jiggling and bouncing quite noticeably, in a not unpleasant fashion she was forced to admit, if only to herself.

"You're a bitch, you know that Kat?"

"Bah! You like it," Kat said with a pointed look. "And next time, you will not boast about your breasts, you. Because of me, you get to enjoy those wonderful breasts. You should be thanking me."

"Enjoy them?! Like it?! I do not! And I wasn't boasting, I was just sayin-"

"Look down."

"Down? Why... Fuck." Jason said, looking at her slightly protruding nipples tenting her tank top. "You did this on purpose."

"Me?" Katya said with sugary sweet innocence, a hand pressed to her chest. "How could I know what the roads are like, or how well our driver could find every... Enjoyable... Bump." She chuckled at Jason's embarrassed discomfiture.

"I don't know, but you did. Somehow. Bitch."

"It could have been worst Jason."

"How?"

"Heels?"

Jason lapsed into cowed silence for the rest of the trip to the Hotel Saratoga.

The two women made it to their hotel without anymore trouble than a few more bumps and jiggles. No sooner had Jason gotten out of the taxi, then a bellhop was there to take her bags, a look on his face that she was growing accustomed to seeing all too frequently. Putting up only a token protest, she let him take them all, save for her carry-on and one of the larger suitcases, then turned and leaned over to pay the driver.

She rolled her fainting glowing, indigo eyes when she saw where his gaze was locked and asked, "How much?"

"You pay enough Miss Knockout, you pay too much!" His grin was huge. "You can get tickets, Miss Knockout?"

"Sigh. Tell you what bud, call the hotel Saratoga tomorrow and ask for Danielle Waters, and you'll get your tickets, 'kay?"

"Yes, yes! I will do that. Thank you a thousand times Miss Knockout," the cabbie babbled in lust-filled thanks, then peeled off, his driving somewhat eractic. But it already had been.

"Jason, that was mean. What if Danielle is staying here?"

"As if. Why would she be here anyway? Come on, let's get our rooms, I want to get out of public for a while."

With that, she headed to the front doors of the elegant Saratoga, her stride long, hips swinging, her long silvery pony-tail lashing like the tail of an affronted cat. Katya and the awe-stricken bellhop had to step quickly to catch up. She gave the doorman a nod, as he shifted awkwardly and held the door for her; annoying, but it was another thing she was growing used to.

Jason could feel every eye turning her way as she entered the classically furnished lobby. She glided with preternatural smoothness to the front desk, noticing in passing a very handsome, Asian man, who she assumed was a nova, near the bank of private elevators.

"Good day, senorita, welcome to the Saratoga. Do you have a reservation with us?" The receptionist was an attractive young woman with long black hair, a delightfully husky voice, and a nametag that said Catalina. She had a nice smile and bright eyes, and if she was impressed by her overly attractive guest, she kept it in check.

"I should, two rooms. It should be under the name Bellefleur."

She checked her name in the computer, and a moment later, a look of distress appeared on her face. "I am terribly sorry Miss Bellefleur. There seems to have been a mistake made when another guess reserved an entire floor, and some rooms had to be shuffled. We seem to only have you listed for one room. Can you give me a moment, and I'll see if I can find something else to accommodate your needs?" Catalina looked genuinely distraught.

A wild thought crossed Jason's mind and she asked in her silkiest voice, "You don't happen to have a reservation for a Danielle Waters, do you."

A blushed deepened her dark skin, and Catalina looked down, focusing on the computer in front of her. "I - I really cannot give out that information, but maybe - "

"Nevermind," Jason said, feeling a little sorry for asking the receptionist to do something that she would get in trouble for. "I'll wait to see if you can find me something else."

Jason moved off to the side and turned around, propping her firm behind on the edge of the desk, arms folded beneath her breasts, the stretched tank top exposing more bare midriff. Hopefully this would be resolved soon, and she could go hide out in her room for a while. Like, till her XWF match tomorrow.

Ryusei's keen hearing picks up the conversation and nods to the manager. "A moment please."

He walks over to the very attractive obvious nova female, doing his best to keep his face neutral but unable to keep a smile from his face. This had to be Jason, nobody looked quite so close to Knockout, or had the silver grey hair.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance miss. I have an entire floor to myself here and I hear it's cost you your reservation allow me to offer you rooms from my floor."

He looks to the Manaager who just nodded, about ten seconds after he realized the wealthy young patron was actually looking at him and that he'd been caught staring at the beautiful female nova.

After a moment Ryusei's smile widens as he starts to chuckle. "Damn you really do look like Knockout."

Finally he introduces himself. "My name's Ryusei Hideyoshi, I presume you're Ms. Bellefleur?"

Jason stood up straight as the handsome, unknown nova headed her way, pusing off the desk with an effortless grace, her tight waist rippling subtly. She raised an eyebrow at his reserved smile, impressed and disgustingly pleased, that after a simple appraisal of her figure, his eyes stayed focused on her face. Well, that's somethin' at least.

As she listened to him make his offer and comparison, Jason's full lips bent into a wry, inadvertently sexy, smile. "Yeah, I get compared to Knockout a lot. Personally, I don't see it. I mean, com'on, she's a golden blonde, and I'm a silver blonde. You can't get much more different than that, now can you?" Jason's melodious soprano, tinted with a hint of a Russian accent, was just as wry and inadvertently sexy as her smile.

"Ms. Bellefleur," Jason continued, with a deep sigh that strained the fabric of her baby-blue tank top, "yup, I guess that's me now, but call me Jason. Unless callin' someone who looks like me Jason creeps you out, then you can call me Ms. Bellefleur. Or Jason." Her faintly luminous indigo eyes glowed slightly brighter, though mockingly or humourously, it was hard to tell. "Ryusei - am I saying it right? - I'm guessin' you're the one I was chatting with the other night on the opnet?"

At his offer of a room, Jason shifted self-consciously, her hips cocking from side to side. "Well, I - thanks for the offer, Ryusei, but I'm sure Catalina will-"

"What Jason means to say, is that she could not possibly refuse such a gracious offer from such a gracious man as yourself Ryusei Hideyoshi." Kat said, her accent noticeably more pronouced than Jason's.

A tiny, cute, grey-eyed, raven-haired woman still shy of twenty stepped beside Jason, the contrast between the two women severe. Her wide grin was mischevous, her obvious admiration for the incredibly handsome Ryusei not deterring her in the least.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ryusei Hideyoshi, I am Katya Skovskaya, since someone with no manners-"

"What? I was-" Jason tried to interrupt, unsuccessfully.

"forgot to introduce me. Someone who should listen to her friend who has much more experience living as a woman-"

"Hey now! You-"

"and who should take her advice, always. Remember the bet? And the plane?" The last two questions were posed to her ex-boyfriend, who she smiled wickedly up at.

"... "

"... "

"...So, Ryusei, about those rooms?" Jason asked with as much dignity and composure as she could, though her cheeks were red and her smile crooked.

Ryusei marveled at the entire scene. The way Kat came in and saved the day was flawless, virtually exactly what he'd have done were the situations reversed. He smiled warmly and nodded to both women. "Ryusei is sufficient between friends, my last name is a mouthful even for some of my family." He looks at Jason, his own grin widening. "And yes I'm that Ryusei. It's a pleasure to meet you face to face."

He nods once as the real meat of the discussion resurfaced. Of course, Jason, please follow me. Because If I follow you I'm likely to run into something. The Manager was just about to show me to the rooms, you can choose which ones you'd like." Multiple baths, large soft beds, and at least one hottub. Oh God perhaps this wasn't one of my better ideas.... He walks over to the Manager who is already calling for bellmen to get the ladies' bags.

The Manager went back behind the front desk to collect several more magnetic keycards, then led his guests to the bank of private elevators. Jason could feel Katya's hand tighten in hers, as they followed their generous host and benefactor.

Jason saw that Katya was rivetted by something, then smirked when she followed Katya's gaze and found it locked on Ryusei's ass. Well, it's nice that I'm not the only one who gets gawked at. Her smirk withered a moment later as she heard the heavy panting of the bellmen following behind her with their luggage.

Jason felt her embarrassment rise even further when she saw her reflection in the mirrored surface of the elevator, and her nipples stiffened, rather noticeably, in her thin shirt. Everyone in the elevator had the decency not to comment. I am so putting on a fuckin' bra when I get to my room, Jason thought, as she surreptitiously tried to preserve the remnants of her modesty.

"So, anyone have plans for later, or we just bummin' in our rooms?" Jason's tone left no doubt to which option she'd prefer.

"Oh, I am thinking we should do some sight seeing, maybe some shopping, then go to the beach. What say you, Ryusei?" Katya's grinned with amusement at Jason, while at the same time, giving Ryusei a covert look-over.

When the elevator pinged, and the doors opened, Jason almost ran out, saying over her shoulder that she would just take a corner room. She turned back just to grab the keycard that the Manager had instinctively held up, then was off again. Every eye was drawn to the marvellous flexing of her impeccable rear. Into the silence, Katya mentioned that she would take the connecting room, and followed Jason at a more sedate place.

Jason entered her room, and stopped, stunned. It was by far the most luxurious room she had ever been in. The floor to ceiling windows on two walls let in a nice breeze and a nice view, and led to a broad balcony. All the furniture was elegant and tasteful, not ostentatious, as were the carpets on marble floor, and the double-height ceilings gave the room an open, airy feel. Her eyes widened at the raised hot tub bubbling in the middle of the room, and she caught her flushed appearance in another mirror. That looks nice, I should have time for a quick dip.

She threw her carry-on and suitcase on the bed, then reached for the hem of the tank top, when something occured to her. She hurried over the connecting door, and made sure it was locked. On the way back to the hot tub, she stopped by her suitcase, to look for a bra, and a swimsuit, just incase. She grunted when she saw what was in the suitcase.

The shiny, sexy, bluish-purple one-piece bathing suit didn't really bother her, since she had picked it out, but all her simple sport bras had been replaced with the sexiest underwear she owned. Hell, half of these she didn't even recognize, and she wasn't even sure how to put that one on. The pair of sandals and shoes were also new, both with heels. Kat!. She set aside the bathing suit and a reddish-purple - Sorry, magenta! - bra that she knew kept her titties in place nearly as well as her heavy-duty sports bras, despite it delicate appearance - and it should, considering what the damn thing cost - and eyed the hot tub again.

She sashayed back to the hot tub, and looking around one more time to make sure she was truly alone, ogled herself in mirror as she began to give herself a private striptease, her hands caressing her improbable breasts. Her hips began to sway to the soft latin beats being emitted by the radio, and as she really got into the spirit, Jason's whole body undulated with far more sex-appeal and graceful rhythm then a baseline was capable of, or that she herself was even aware of.

Danielle whistled as she looked around the luxurious hotel room. "Nice. Nice." For what I'm paying it better be.

She dumped the bags and her handbag (not a purse, never a purse, and if you called it a purse she might take your car and throw it at your house) on the bed, flexed a bit, then turned to Conrad, who was standing out in the hall. "Can you believe Ryusei bought out a floor? I have half a mind to take one of those rooms."

"Why don't you?" Conrad shrugged.

"Eh, I just feel like a mooch, taking other people's money. I can pay my own way. Yours too."

"You laugh, but once my book on the history of war from the perspective of hookers is finished, my bank account will beat up yours."

"Uh huh."

"So, uh." Conrad tugged on his doorknob. "Oops."

"What? Don't say oops."

"Whoops?"

"Whoops as in..."

"As in, 'whoops, I locked myself out of the hotel room.' I will have to stay with you."

Danielle rubbed her forehead. Somehow, she knew something like this was going to happen. "I'm not sleeping in the same room as you, or your camera."

"Come on. We can play Rock Band - well, you'd have to go out and buy it first - "

"Uh huh."

"We could just, you know, hang out."

Danielle sighed. "Conrad - you're my best friend, man? But I need my own space. If I bunk with a guy he'll check me out. If I bunk with a girl I'll be checking them out. Just go down to the manager and say you lost your card."

"I hate doing that."

"You hate sleeping in the street more? What is it with guys and inability to admit failure? Just go! Go talk to the manager. We're paying a shitting fuckton for the rooms, he'll remember your face."

"Fine." Conrad was unusually abrupt. He stomped down the hall towards the elevator.

Danielle let him go, replaying her words in her head. 'What is it with guys?' I said that like 'guys' fell into the Them slot...

She turned around, and stared. The door had shut behind her.

She tried the knob. It didn't turn. She looked up and down the hall, which was empty, and relaxed her disguise, her proportions filling out her clothing. She narrowed her eyes, looking through the door, and, yep, right next to her handbag was her keycard.

"I'm locked out of my hotel room," she said blandly.

After a moment, she said it again. "I am locked out of my hotel room. I am an idiot. Okay. Rip the door off?"

Yeah, I'm sure I'll have no problems being who I am, in a room with a door that won't close.

"Go see the manager?"

And hear about it from Conrad for-EVER. Yeah - no.

"All right, all right... lateral thinking up in dis... hmm." She peered through the door with a penetrating glance, and looked at the window. "Unlocked..."

Just fly up, open it all the way, go in, grab your key, bingo. Easy peasy. What could go wrong?

She took the stairs, five at a time, putting her disguise back in place. She reached the ground floor, went out the front doors, ducked around the side into an alleyway, and floated upwards.

A problem with her disguise was that she couldn't really exert herself and maintain it, so she didn't try. No one would be looking up. She counted out floors.

Danielle wasn't dumb. She was, however, not always swift on the uptake, and she was rather sheltered, and it just didn't occur to her that the hotel might not have a 13th floor. So she miscounted by one, and coasted to a stop in front of precisely the wrong window.

Okay, now where's... my... hand... bag...

Danielle stared into a hotel room that was vaguely familiar - much like hers. And she stared at a figure that was very, very familiar. Much like hers.

Oh my God. My GOD.

He nodded. "Shopping, sight-seeing, and the beach all sound great. I promised my siblings souveniers, and this is my first time in Cuba." He chuckles. "Going to the beach with such company as you two lovely ladies would be a true pleasure."

Ryusei smiled and made sure to tip both the bellmen and the manager well and being told that if there was anything they needed to simply call, After they'd selected their rooms and the girls had gone in. He looked around the room he'd chosen, overlooking the beach and smiled. it was roomy, clean and well furnished. The kingsize bed was soft and the bath was enormous. He had his own private hottub and a full kitchen should he decide to cook.

He stripped and took a good shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist as he got out. It was a good day to relax, he certainly needed to.

He'd noticed the way Kat had eyed him and that made him smile. She was attractive, for a baseline. Going to the beach would be an adventure in its own right, simply for them having to keep the guys away from Jason.

"Whateve happens, one thing's for sure, this little excursion won't be boring."