You leave New York on a flight to the Bahamas and and are met at the airport by the transfer director for the Shrinking Place.
From the main airport in the Bahamas it is a 30 minute hop to the Shrinking Place's island in the southeast Bahamas. On the plane you notice that everyone else is half of a couple. Four couples and you. Probably nothing you think to yourself still unimpressed by this whole shrinking thing.
The airport on this island is right next to the resort and you can't wait to hit the beach, get some rays and have a few drinks. Maybe, you'll even find a nice piece of ass along the way.
Once off the plane you are immediately whisked to your room on your own oversized golf cart. The boss was in a real good mood when he booked this trip and you have your own secluded bungalow, away from the main hotel and the crowds.
You gorgeous bell hop, well over six feet tall, takes care of everything. You tip her and she's gone, off to take care of her next guest. Before she left she pointed out everything in the room, including the "Rules of the Resort." She encourages you to read it so you stay out of trouble. You laugh to yourself "yeah, right, trouble in paradise." You change your clothes and you're off to the beach.
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