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We checked-in to the small boutique hotel just a block away from the ocean. Angie changed into her two-piece bathing suit and they both headed out to the beach. The first day on the beach, Angie and I took the time to get comfortable with the atmosphere and the people. As they walked on the sand southward, the bathing suits got smaller and smaller. Guys were in banana hammocks and the girls were sporting thongs. A lot of skin exposed for a couple of Midwesterners. Needless to say, the beach blanket found the sand and a couple of beach chairs were opened. Angie knew I enjoyed the view of topless women strolling in the rays of the sun with perspiration oils glistening on all those beautiful breasts. What she was about to find out was that I had concealed over the years the dormant fantasy of candaulism. Angie spent a good hour laying on her back before she got the nerve to take her top off.She eventually got hot and mentioned that she was going in for a dip to cool off. I wondered if. My secretary closed it and there was a loud boom, plunging us into darkness.“Where’s the other door?” my wife gasped as the only light came from my phone. “Shouldn’t it be right here.”My wife pointed at the far wall. I could see only the old bricks that made up the room. I frowned, nodding. “Yeah, there should be. This isn’t a dead end.”I waved my phone before me, the screen shining the blue light on the phone. This tension swelled in my stomach. My heart squeezed as this growing panic rose in me as I circled the walls. Imogene trembled by the iron door. The small room we were in, right below the other building now only had one way in and out.It had been changed. Edited.My panic swelled. It rose in me. My breathing quickened. Fear squeezed about my chest. I trembled as I turned around. There had to be a door here. There had to be. This was our escape route. It had to be here.“Steve,” my wife said, her voice cracking. “What’s going on, Steve?”I swallowed. My body shook. I struggled.
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