Jiro entered the cave and stood, stooped over, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Ahead of him, coming from somewhere within the cave, he could hear the sound of water. Drip, drip, drip. But wait. There was another sound, softer at first then louder.

The sound was a familiar one. He had heard it many times before. It was the sound of someone slurping on a delicious bowl of ramen noodles. He paused to think. Were Aya and her friends in there having a late afternoon snack? Somehow, that didn’t seem likely.

When his eyes adjusted, Jiro took a few cautious steps forward. He was in a low tunnel of some sort. The cave floor was uneven, and his feet often slipped into little pockets of slimy water. A breeze blew from deeper within the cave. It smelled of something sweet, and also a little salty. I know that smell, thought Jiro. But from where?

Gradually, the tunnel opened out into a cavern with a high ceiling. There were stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Openings in the rock let down beams of sunlight from above. The source of the breeze.

Jiro paused, squatting down behind a tall stalagmite nearly his size. The sound of the slurping had grown louder. But where was it coming from? Suddenly, he heard a man moan.

Slowly, ever so slowly so as not to make a sound, he slid his head past the stalagmite. Then he froze. In the center of the cavern, directly in the path of a beam of sunlight, was a shallow pool of sea water. Lying in it face up were the figures of Aya and two of her friends: one woman and one man. They looked to be asleep. The trio’s chests rose and fell with their slow, deep breaths. Especially Aya’s chest.

For a time, Jiro stood still, mesmerized by the rise and fall of Aya’s breasts. Freed from the restraining fabric of her bikini, they were even larger than Jiro had imagined. Cantelope caliber, at the very least. Smooth, tan cantaloupes without a blemish. Nipples like light switches. Who was that idiot had told him Japanese women had flat chests? Probably the same idiot that had told him they were shy.

Well, he thought, its good to know she’s ok. I don’t know what she’s doing here sleeping naked in a cave, but … she looks alright. Not in pain or anything.

As if to reply, Aya bucked her hips in her sleep and let out a low, breathy moan. Mhhmhm.

Jiro averted his eyes, recalling what Aya had said to him on the beach. If you’re looking for a tan line. You won’t find one. Well, she certainly hadn’t been lying.

From somewhere beyond the pool of water: Sluurrp! And, shortly after, another moan. A man’s. Jiro took several cautious steps forward, skirting the pool of sea water. There had been another man with the group, no?

He crept carefully along the edge of the pool, careful not to slip and make a sound. Next to him, floating in the water, Aya’s friend and the owner of the white bikini—a paler girl with high cheekbones and smaller breasts (grapefruit caliber, perhaps?)—let out a moan of her own. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Jiro looked away. Any more, and he would have trouble walking.

They must have had some really tasty noodles, thought Jiro, stepping over a lichen. And this missing guy … He must be eating Ultra Jumbo Size, because he’s been slurping for ages. Talk about having an appetite for junk food …

More slurps. Another moan. The lewd sounds were coming from behind a cluster of stalagmites. Illuminated by sunlight from above, they looked like a fossilized thicket of ancient trees. As Jiro approached, the pace of the moans quickened. They grew more rapid in frequency, and higher pitched. The man, Jiro thought, was clearly approaching some kind of climax … But what kind?

The answer came when Jiro peeked around the corner. The man was lying on a flat bed of rock, dotted with more lichens. Hunched over him, with her back facing Jiro was the woman in the blue swimsuit. Her head bobbed up and down rhythmically over the man’s pelvis. In the shaft of sunlight, the blue scales on the woman’s swimsuit glinted with rainbow hues. The scales ran all the way down from her neck to her feet. The fit was so tight that he could see the cleft of the woman’s buttocks …

The man let out another moan, almost a shout. He bucked his hips into the woman, shuddering violently.

Sluuuurp!

What was the chance that there was a cup of ramen noodles sitting on that man’s pelvis? Jiro silently answered his own question: Zero. Precisely zero. Going back to the bathhouse suddenly seemed like a wonderful idea. He took a step back …

… and immediately slipped in a puddle of water. He fell backward, hitting the rock with a thud. The drawstring bag around his neck came free and clattered onto the cave floor, sending echoes reverberating around the cave.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.