Bob Burtons Bordello

Lost Flame

Bob Burton loved his job. As owner and operator of The Bordello, he could say—without exaggeration—that there was no other place like it.

He strolled along the establishment’s private beach, sand cool beneath his shoes, the surf murmuring softly at his side. Out beyond the breakers, a pair of mermaids laughed and twisted through the water, their scales catching the dying light. Beautiful. Tempting.

Almost sunset.

Bob slowed. He knew better than to linger alone after dark. The absence of guests didn’t make the beach safer—it made it worse. Predators preferred quiet shores.

With a faint sigh, he turned back toward the house. As enticing as the thought was, adding a mermaid to his staff could wait.

He had just stepped inside and reached for the door when movement caught his eye.

Two gaunt figures crouched in the shadows, hunched over a body that writhed weakly between them.

Bob froze, his hand still on the door.

Whatever the night had brought ashore, it was already feeding.