His Spring Break Harem (His Asian Spring Break Harem)

Chapter One

The Welcome Party

Chapter One

Josh didn’t expect to spend his summer vacation at Spring Break.

Hell, he didn’t even expect to spend his vacation on the same continent as Spring Break!

He was a forty-year-old professional man. He had big plans and enough money in his pocket to make them a reality.

He wanted to travel the world, to bask in high culture, to dine in the finest restaurants in between trips to visit sites of historical importance. He wanted to feel the weight of history, to connect to the ingenuity and brilliance of the greatest minds that had ever lived, to feel just for a moment, the staggering achievements of the human race.

“CANNONBALL!”

Josh looked over just in time to see a young man with more abs than brain cells launch himself into the pool, his knees tucked up into his chiselled chest as he flew through the air and plummeted into the water, sending chaotic waves in all directions.

A group of young women in skimpy bikinis, with perfectly made-up hair and make-up, cursed at him, whilst a gang of young men, most likely his friends, laughed and cheered as he half-heartedly apologised to the women as he made his way over to them.

Josh smiled as the man swam over and apologised for his bawdy behaviour spoiling their #afternoondip. The women rolled their long-lashed eyes, checking first their phones for water damage and then themselves using the phone’s selfie camera to make sure they still looked insta-ready. Once satisfied no permanent damage was done, they began to warm to him and his effortless good looks.

It reminded him of his youth, when he came to Spring Break twenty years ago. Of course, it was nothing like it was now and he certainly hadn’t been as cut or confident as the young man who was now well integrated into the group, posing with them for a #poolpals post.

He felt a pang of jealousy. He was more confident and in better shape than he’d ever been. But he was also twice as old as everyone else here, even most of the wait staff. He’d missed his opportunity to have the sort of Spring Break people dreamed of.

But he’d also moved on. He’d lived too long to worry about such things anymore. He’d built a business and a family, moving on from fleeting physical encounters, preferring instead to focus on more emotionally-sound relationships.

Or at least, he had until his marriage had fallen apart.

Then he didn’t know what to do.

He’d thrown himself into work, building his business at a staggering pace as he drove himself into the ground.

“You need a fucking holiday,” Stepphy had said, standing in the doorway of his office. “It smells of ass in here.”

Stepphy was his twenty-five-year-old assistant. Her parents were Japanese, and had moved here before she was born. She had relocated here to go to university, taking this job to fund her post-grad. She had dark eyes and a sharp tongue and he had been instantly drawn to her no-nonsense personality, even when it was turned upon him.

“You know I’m your boss, right?” he said, as he pulled himself out from underneath the desk, unfurling from the sleeping bag he had kept for the occasional late night, which increasingly became every other night, until he was basically living there.

“It smells of ass in here,

sir

,” she said, faux-bowing.

A smile of bemusement rose across his face. She was a snarky asshole, which is precisely why he hired her. She didn’t give a fuck what other people thought, and he admired that, even if it did sometimes make his life more difficult than he cared for. Sometimes a man just wants to self-destruct in peace.

“I mean it,” she continued, not venturing further into the office, “it’s on the verge of becoming a health hazard, and so are you.” She pinched her nose with two fingers. “Snirr.”

He wanted to argue, but as he stretched his tired and aching body, he could tell how badly he needed a shower, which meant he was

far

more pungent to other people.

“I’ll head off home, take a shower and get some fresh clothes,” he said, admitting defeat.

“Excellent,” she said, “then you can take the rest of the day to go get some new clothes while I book a holiday for you. You need a couple of weeks off.”

“I can’t just…” he began.

“

You

can,” Stepphy interrupted, “because

you’re

the boss, and being the boss means

you

can do

whatever the fuck you like.

Besides, I don’t want to walk in one morning and find you slumped over at your desk. Dead at fifty.”

“I’m only forty,” he said, indignantly.

She eyed him up and down, studying every inch of him.

“Then you

really

need a holiday.”