<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/2f/19/da/2f19daef4f7f3f0bec37a1264fb0bd70.jpg)</div><em><br/>"Here we go."</em><br/><br/>Monica had no cup to hand over.   Airplane bathrooms were an ordeal that she preferred to skip, thank you very much, so she'd not had anything to drink except half a cup of coffee that morning.  The plan was to make up for the lack, and more, once they touched down.  Lauren's smile was sunny, and the clasp of her hand was warm, and Monica had to admit that she looked damned good.  So the edges were a little sharper, a little more defined, in her face and  things lurking under the crystalline grey-blue eyes.  Her body was taut and lean, and when they played tennis at the club, heads turned.<br/><br/>And turn they should.  Monica was under no illusion that either one of them was going to find a new Mr. Right on vacation, but she was hoping for a healthy selection of Mr. Right Nows and maybe even a Mr. Wrong Feels So Good for the both of them.   It'd been a lousy couple of years, and cutting loose and living a little would be good reward for surviving as well as they had.  Forget relationships and commitments and forever, and how they broke down after a while.<br/><br/>The tickets had been a goodbye present from Alan, even if he didn't know it yet.  The funniest thing was that he still seemed shocked that she'd come at him with lawyers blazing.  He was right that she didn't love him, hadn't loved him in years, but that wasn't the point.  He'd gotten what he wanted every step of the way, little by little, reasoned compromises and endless lectures on what made sense, and when he had what he wanted, he turned around and changed all the rules.   But by then, the one thing Monica knew best about him was how to hit him where it hurt, and she was hitting hard.<br/><br/>Lauren believed in karma and justice, but Monica preferred not to wait around for the universe to get there.  She'd get her licks in, and then the universe could have what was left.<br/><br/>Lauren maybe needed that belief more than she did.  Her husband had put himself beyond lawyers and settlements.  Monica didn't know why, and she didn't think Lauren did either.  He'd dumped whatever hurt he had onto Lauren and his kids, and that made Monica fervently hope that somewhere, somehow, Karma was snapping on some latex gloves ... and that there was a Mr. Wrong in Key West who would file away some of those sharp edges for her friend.  Orgasms, particularly one after the other after the other, was better than wine for drowning sorrows.<br/><br/>For that matter, she hoped the same for herself.  Shopping and tanning and ogling hot guys with little swimsuits and tight asses was good, but getting wild would be better.<br/><br/>As the plane descended, there was a little lurch in her stomach at the change in altitude, and then the rattle and shake as the wheels hit the runway and the brakes started a rapid deceleration.  Lauren was animated, her eyes drinking in every little detail, and for just a moment, Monica felt a little sting of regret that she couldn't share in that childlike wonder that shone in her friend's smile.  She was glad that Lauren did see it.  Palm trees, the ocean, the beach ... from a distance, it was nothing more than a view from a TV screen or a postcard.  Pretty, but two dimensional until she had an umbrella drink in her hand and her agile, polished toes in the sand.<br/><br/><em>"Hey, thank <strong>you</strong> for coming.  And we are going to have a <strong>great</strong> time."  </em>And if there was more steely determination in Monica's eyes than the hope and delight in Lauren's, well, it didn't really matter how you got there, did it?<br/><br/>She had traveled light as well, and it was a relief knowing they wouldn't have to deal with baggage claim and the whole bit.   There was even a car waiting to take them to Eden House, their beachside hotel -- maybe she'd be extra catty and send Alan a post card.  "Glad you're not here."