Islands in the Stream

We were sipping some really excellent plum wine after dinner. I said, "So where do we go from here Mon-commandant?" She said, "It's Tuesday. All of your paperwork will show up here in the next couple of days. I booked us on the first departure Friday morning. It's on one of those Celebrity super-ships so we are going to blend in. It's four days out of Puerto Rico into the eastern Caribbean ending at the Island of St. Lucia. I want to get off there. I've been to St. Lucia and it is very nice."

I said, "What about you?" She looked confused and said, "I'm going with you. Why do you ask?"

Sigh!! Okay, all-in; I said, "I really WANT you to go with me. I know that's insane given that both of us have been living solitary lives on the fringe. And the only thing that I know about you is that you are the Red Dragon. But I have this weird feeling that I can trust you. I believe that you are a decent person and that you have my best interests at heart." I didn't add "Even though you are a well-known cyber-bandito."

I went on with, "The longer we are together the stronger that feeling is getting. And I am confused by where it is leading me. I am starting to see you as a woman, not my daughter. And given the cataclysmic disaster that occurred the last time that I got close to a woman, I do not want a repeat."

She looked at me with an intimacy that I had not experienced from any other person in my life. Especially from somebody so young. She was only chronologically twenty-eight. But then again, The Red Dragon was eons old. She took my hand, eyes boring into mine, and said, "For the time being think of me as your guardian angel. We still have to put a lot of distance between Tommy Meissner and Jim Newhouse. We can talk after we get done with that."

She sat back with a smile on her face and said, "I will be your loving daughter for all of that time. And I will keep you safe. You still haven't heard my story and you might change your mind about me after I tell it. THEN we can decide what comes next." She gazed into my eyes and added with intensity, "I don't EVER intend to leave you, unless you send me away." Her eyes were shining with tears and she looked absolutely exquisite.

~

Things were a little awkward when we first got back to the room. We were both aware that the father-daughter thing was a cover. I, for one, was also uncomfortably aware that I was about to sleep with a stunning little hottie, a situation that under normal conditions might lead me to doing something inappropriate. And the last thing I wanted to do was get into any messy entanglements with a woman, especially with somebody as lethal as Ariadne. But, there was still an undercurrent of physical attraction. That would have been super-creepy if we had actually been related.

She disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the sounds of brushing teeth and she emerged dressed in a pale yellow, relatively modest pajama outfit that was made of some silky material. She had worked all of the previous night killing me off, and then resurrecting me in the official records as Jim Newhouse. So I had never seen her in bedroom attire. She said shyly, "I normally sleep nude but that wouldn't work here." She was not trying to be sexual in the least. God!! That was the last thing both of us wanted!! But I still had to upgrade her hard little body to world-class status.

Small women have an advantage; in that they do not need exceptionally large assets to look incredibly sexual. Ariadne had a true hourglass shape, with two perfect little buns and a full set of shapely boobs; all of that on a rock hard body. But she still probably weighed about 100 pounds. I was making a valiant effort to NOT leer. But it was impossible to miss the two little points sticking out of those delectable titties. I gulped and said, "'I'll see you in a minute." And ducked into the bathroom.

I emerged in a pair of maroon silk pajamas that were right out of "I Love Lucy." The girl at Ida and Harry's assured me they were the ultimate in fashionable sleepwear for men. I wasn't too sure since I normally just sleep in a pair of boxers. In the meantime, Ariadne had made up her bed in the other room and was climbing in. The outline of her hips and bubble butt in clingy silk made me spring something embarrassing. So I quickly hopped under the covers and turned out the light.

I said, "Good night daughter." I was REALLY trying to convince myself that incest WASN'T best. She said, "Good night Dad." Her voice was strained. She sounded like she might be having the same problem that I was. I thought to myself, "God give me strength."

My ID showed up on Thursday afternoon. It was an absolutely awe inspiring illustration of state-of-the-art identity theft. We had been hanging out like father and daughter for the past two days and the role was beginning to rest comfortably on both of us. She teased me a lot and I looked lovingly fond of her. And there were no repeats of the extreme pangs of sexual desire that we had both felt that first night.

The flight down to Luis Munoz Marin Airport in Puerto Rico was a two and a half hour hop. The ten-mile taxi ride in the San Juan traffic, over to the Cruise Port, felt like it was almost as long as the flight. Ariadne was sitting staring serenely out the window of the cab. She was wearing a pleated white skirt and blue polo shirt that made her look like she had spent her last ten years in upscale prep schools, not wreaking havoc in cyberspace.

Buster was crammed between us panting in the heat, slobbering on my new khaki slacks. He was proudly wearing his "Service Dog" vest like a new Marine in his dress blues. It made up for his trip down to Puerto Rico in the baggage hold. He told me in no uncertain terms that he never wanted to have THAT experience again.

Ariadne was an amazing little chameleon, which probably explained her success as a criminal. She could take-on the persona of anybody she wanted to be and we had selected millionaire single dad with sophisticated adult daughter as the best cover. I DID have a couple of million stashed away in numbered accounts. The year and a half I had spent in the pen-testing business had been very lucrative. But I had a feeling that Ariadne could have beaten my account balances by a power of ten.

Of course we weren't spending any money. Ariadne had booked us a Penthouse Suite on a Celebrity super-ship. That particular suite featured twin beds, thank God!! It had been a hack that got us the Suite of course. But, nobody on the ship was any the wiser once Ariadne had buffer-overflowed her way into the booking system.

Cruise ships are little cities filled with a brand new set of complete strangers every week. So in essence boarding feels like everybody is moving into town on the same day. The first night out we ate and hit one of the on-board shows. The sleeping was easy because we each had our own bed. And we were getting more-and-more into the routine of father and daughter.

Buster was a bit of a problem since crapping space was limited. But a couple of hundred slipped to our room's butler gave him access to the ornamental lawn on the top deck. That was the feature that made us choose that particular ship in the first place. And Buster was very thankful.

The cruise itself was rather boring. That was because neither of us wanted to risk using the ship's super- insecure, on-board internet connection. Ariadne lived in virtual space. So she was getting particularly antsy. Neither of us are party animals but I eventually decided to take her to the ship's nightclub, just to blow off steam.

I wore a tux. She was in a little turquoise wraparound cocktail dress fitted so that it showed off her exquisite, body. The sight stirred the hearts of every male in attendance. In fact, I realized that I was sitting with a woman who was arguably one of the best looking females on the ship. Accordingly, Ariadne got asked to dance a lot. She turned the first couple down. But the third guy was very good looking and he seemed like an all-around decent fellow.

Ariadne turned to me questioningly. I said, "Of course sweetie." She stood up, walked out onto the floor and began to perform what looked to me like a pagan mating ritual. It was a perfect illustration of the difference in our age. I knew that what she was doing was normal for her peers. I could see other twenty somethings dancing exactly like she was. The music seemed to flow into them and then out again. That resulted in moves that would be considered obscene when I was their age, but Ariadne's generation seemed to think that it was just a normal statement about their wholehearted sexuality.

OMG!! - the last thing I wanted to think about was Ariadne's sexuality. I was sleeping with her every night. But watching her dance actually helped me to put a little distance between us. I realized that we were truly of different generations. Of course I am also some spiteful god's personal speed-bag.

Most people in MY generation go cradle-to-grave on a nice steady course without any life extinguishing events. None of that applied to me. Overnight I had lost the woman with whom I had built a life. Then, just as suddenly I found myself fleeing from shadowy forces who were seeking to destroy my newly rebuilt one. To make the situation even more daunting, I was being aided in my efforts by an enigmatic girl who was nearly half my age and who was arguably one of the most dangerous women in post-industrial society. Worse, she was exotically beautiful.

Given my past history with women, and the fact that I was running for my life, I would have to be insane to feel anything but extreme gratitude toward Ariadne. Yet, while I was watching her slow dance with that big, good looking dude I was having anything but fatherly emotions. She had her arms around his neck and he had his hands on her waist, Just above her round little ass. And she was leaning back staring directly into his eyes. There was nothing sexual about it. They were barely touching body to body. The better term was "intimate."

And again, the way that she was dancing was no different than the other twenty-something girls out there. The problem was that the familiarity passing between those two was causing irrational and incredibly powerful feelings of jealousy in me. I wanted to be the one holding her. And I wanted to be the one who was swimming in those fathomless jade green eyes. I knew that feeling was nuts. I didn't even know her real name. But there it was.

Then she made it MUCH worse. The music ended and they broke apart laughing. She grabbed his hand and glided over to where I was sitting. I was trying NOT to look like the green-eyed monster was in actuality eating me alive. She said lightheartedly, "Frank wants to take me to the Mast Bar. Can I Dad - please - please?" I tried to look paternal as I said, "Sure - but you had better not disturb me when you come in. I'm going to be asleep."

She said, "Thanks Dad," and squeezed my arm in a loving daughter gesture. They went tripping off together. He was my height. So, as they walked away the two of them looked like HE was taking his kid sister somewhere. That is, if you discounted those perfect little swaying hips, and the twitching of those two faultless little buns. I didn't know that it was possible. But I actually felt a greater sense of hopelessness and loss than I had watching Heather kiss Wilkins before her trip.

I was pretty sure that Ariadne would spend the night with the dude. At least it looked that way. So I was surprised to hear the two of them laughing together as they came down the passageway. It had only been an hour and a half. Of course, for all of that time I had been lying in the darkness, eyes wide open and heart pounding listening to the ship noises and the engines.

There was a short interlude at the door, which featured a faint little moan. And then the door opened, the light from the hall outlined her slipping silently into the suite. She undressed in the dark and slid quietly into her bed. She rustled around for a few minutes and then lay quiet, sleeping the sleep of the blameless.

It was a very upsetting situation indeed. As the Red Dragon, she might be a menace to post-industrial society. But, as Ariadne she was hazardous to my very soul. I knew that I was falling in love with her and love and trust were luxuries that I absolutely couldn't afford. Heather had drained that account all the way down to zero.

~

The very next morning, I showered and dressed in khakis and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt. I found Ariadne in the living room of the suite reading USA Today. She was wearing a white tropical weight linen dress. The dress showed off her neat little body and her fabulous, legs.

Her legs were a true work of art. I had noticed that as far back as her cut-off jeans and hoodie days. But they were somehow more special in four inch heels and the new polished appearance. The sophisticated look seemed to come naturally to her. Her ability to put on the mantle of privilege was so convincing that it was either a superb job of acting. Or she actually came from big money.

She smiled luminously and said, "Last night was wonderful. Thank you." I said jokingly, in a mock-stern voice, "I hope that you didn't do anything that Daddy wouldn't approve of." She looked at me a little more seriously than I expected and said, "Don't even THINK that. We drank and talked and he kissed me at the door. That's it. You have to get it through your thick head that I am devoted to you - and only you, which brings up an important point."

She focused on me, like she wanted to ensure that I understood what she was about to say. She said, "There are cameras watching every inch of this ship's public area. And every one of them is remotely hackable. I know that, because I've already broken-into their system using my phone. Don't you think that it would be a little bizarre If somebody saw me turning down guys my own age in order to hang out with my Dad"

While she was talking, I was thinking "devoted to me? What the fuck does THAT mean???"

She added, "In fact, I want you to find somebody tonight too. We are going to be in St. Lucia in a couple of days and we are going to get off there. In the meantime, we have to put on a credible show just for appearances sake." I said, "So you decided to get off there?" She said casually, "Yes, my family has a place on that island. We can hole up until they lift the bounty. WE need to keep you so far under the radar that they are convinced you are dead" I said interested, "You have never told me about your family." She said dismissively, "If we decide to proceed I will have to tell you." She left it up to me to decide what "proceed" meant.

That evening we were back at the nightclub. I was in my tux and she was in a classic little black dress. It ended several inches above her knees. Those incredible legs left a striking impression. And with the pearls and black patent leather pumps she was beyond gorgeous. The hoodie didn't show off much of her boobs and she had been wearing polo shirts or high necked cocktail dresses since then. This dress was scooped in front. I upgraded her titties to stunning. They might be relatively small compared to a Sports Illustrated super-model. But they were so high and closely gathered and her rib-cage was so well developed that her little mounds were profoundly impressive.

That discovery added one more drop of angst to my already precarious state. I am a total breast man. Heather had an impressive pair of tits. And even in her chubby housewife stage they had been fun to play with. Now my guardian angel was showing off a round, firm, pair of melons that almost put Heather to shame. It really fell into the category of cruelty to mortal men.

My assignment for the evening was to find somebody my age. I understood why Ariadne wanted me to do that. We were continuing to maintain the legend of father and daughter. And this was a cruise. So the dad would probably be looking for some female strange of his own. Ariadne was having no trouble meeting men. In fact, they were parading over to our table in droves. She danced with several of them including her friend from last night. I finally got up the courage to approach a table full of women who were clearly either divorcees on a girl's cruise, or married women sowing their wild oats.

Their status didn't matter. My only job was to find one, cut her out of the herd, and spend some time with her. They were all looking at me expectantly. My name is neither Clooney nor Grant, but I have developed some social skills; since Heather so unceremoniously kicked me out into the wild. There was a short dark Latino woman with impressive tits. There was a tall redhead with one of those fashion model builds and a blond who looked like a California Beach Bunny circa the Clinton Administration. I was thinking to myself, "Blond, brunette, or redhead, what a clichéd choice."

I said smiling to the table at large, "Would any of you beautiful ladies care to dance?" The blond, who was by far the best looking of the three, was out of her chair like a shot; dragging me out to the dance floor. She was still hot, in a mid-40s kind of way. And she had probably been a knockout fifteen to twenty years earlier. She was wearing enough gold to stock a Mayan temple and she just radiated, "recently divorced, did well in the settlement."

We boogied for a while and eventually we drifted over next to Ariadne. My pseudo-daughter was turned facing away from the guy she was dancing with. HE couldn't keep his eyes off of her frantically churning buns. Ariadne turned toward me and we exchanged glances. She said matter-of-fact, "Hi Dad." That, as all-the-while her legs, and hips were gyrating in ways rarely seen outside of primitive fertility rights - KIDS!!

My partner, who was dancing in the same, jogging, old-person fashion as I was, did a double take. She said, "SHE'S your daughter??!!" I said, "For the past twenty-eight years." She looked at her again and said, "Amazing... She looks exactly like Chelsea Hughes. Her parents were friends of mine in DC."

Well THAT little coincidence certainly let the skunk loose in the lady's bridge club. I said, "Let's take a break for a second." And I led her over to a handy table. That didn't work so well because the music was still deafening. So I said, "Let's go get a drink." My partner obviously thought that she was going to get lucky; she became very flirty. I walked over to the Globe and Atlas Pub, with her holding my arm like we were a couple, and sat down at an intimate little table for two.

My partner was a real beauty. The bloom was a little bit off the rose, but not so much that she wasn't turning heads. And in her younger days she must have been a world-class stunner, long, natural dirty-blond hair, blue eyes and features that were so aesthetically perfect that you wanted to just hang her on a wall and look at her; like a Rembrandt. The rest of her in a tight black dress put new meaning to the term "brick shit house." I was guessing trophy second wife recently replaced by a newer model.

She was giving me the whole bouncing crossed legs, deep revealing cleavage thing that women do when they are impatient to get around to the fun part. I would have probably fucked her right on top of the table. Except, you are only supposed to commit adultery in the rooms on a cruise. More importantly I didn't want to set any precedents for Ariadne. If I fucked somebody, then Ariadne would have the same moral right. And the thought of some random stud humping her into a coma caused me extreme emotional distress; much worse than the week that Heather spent in Paris.

I kept telling myself that Ariadne was 19 years younger, and that she was a legendary desperado in cyberspace. Not to mention the fact that she was literally my guardian angel. None of those arguments affected my fevered brain. I couldn't deny the totally unreasoning desire to hold her and make her mine. And the woman sitting across from me knew something that I had to find out.