Lots of rooms. My 'quarters' are off at one end, but I've seen a lot! I know what goes on. Mummy and her arty little fag decorator friends and swishy hairdressers. It makes me want to puke.'
'I can't imagine any woman letting a man like your father go…' offered Trish, hoping for more juicy details from the innocent girl.
'That's just it – he's a real man. Mummy doesn't want a real man around. She has to wear the pants in the family.'
'And your father obviously wants a real woman, doesn't he?'
'Sure. That's why he couldn't take it any more. I think Mummy was emasculating him, not treating him like a man; not giving him the love and affection and… well, you know what I mean,' Davie added shyly.
'Sex?'
'Exactly. They had separate bedrooms. That went on for almost a year. My father started coming home later and later from the office. He and my mother rarely even talked to each other. Yet she insisted that he had to go to all the stupid charity balls and parties, put on a front for their friends. One day he came home and packed all his things and left a long letter for me and a two word note for my mother. She never got over that blow to her pride. Even though she got everything – the apartment the beach house on Long Island, the car – and custody of me she has kept punishing him in every way she could. But she's punished me, too, by not letting me see him for three years. She's done everything she could to turn me against him, and it's only made me love him more and resent her.'
'That really wasn't very smart of her, or fair at all, trying to turn you against your father. But she's obviously very bitter,' Trish offered sympathetically.
'Really. But so am I. And I'm scared, too. I mean, what if Daddy doesn't want to be bothered with me? I know he's very busy and I might be in the way and…'
'Nonsense! Your father loves you very much, I know. This is probably the best thing that's happened to him in three years, Davie,' Trish said in her most sincere, maternal manner as she once more placed her haled on the lovely girl's and squeezed it reassuringly. But inwardly she was thinking about the lucky women Peter Knight must have screwed to ecstasy with his beautiful cock. She envied the women who had felt his fiery hot cum in their pussies; the women who had felt his beautiful wet mouth and tongue in their cunts, licking and sucking them to the heights of cunnilingual rapture. She felt her own cuntal juices begin to ooze into her panties, and her clitoris throbbed with excitement. But she forced herself to maintain a masque of sympathetic and conciliatory interest. She wanted to be damned sure she didn't blow her game before she got a chance to blow Peter Knight's hard cock! Then there was his sweet, virginal and oh-so-appealing daughter. Trish had plans for her, too. Big, juicy plans! 'Everything is going to work out just fine, Davie I know it will.'
'Do you really think so, Trish? Do you?' the girl asked anxiously.
'I know so. There's not a thing to worry about. You and your daddy will get along just great. And I'll be there. You and I can do fun things together when your dad's working. And there'll be someone else who might be fun for you…'
'Someone else? Who?' the teenager asked, her clear hazel eyes growing wider.
'My kid brother, Randy. He's 19. He's meeting me at the airport. He works for the Pan Am radar installation on the island. He's lots of fun.'
'Does Randy know my father?'
'A little. It's a small island, you know. And there aren't that many whites. So everybody sort of knows everybody else. Randy lives at the base on the other end of the island, with a bunch of other guys. I'm based in Nassau, but I come to Eleuthera every chance I get.'
'That's why you've got such a great tan, I guess. I'm so white and yucky looking, I'll have to hide out for a couple of days until I get toasted!'
The pilot's gravely voice interrupted on the intercom, 'Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching the landing field. Please be sure your seat belts are securely fastened and extinguish all smoking material until you are outside the field gates. We hope you enjoy your stay in Eleuthera. Thanks for being aboard.'
Davie peered out the plane window. Her hands gripped the arm rests. Trish Byers patted tile pretty brunette's arm gently. 'Don't worry, honey. Everything's going to work out fine just fine!'
Among the dozen or so spectators who watched the small aircraft touch down on the strip was a man who stood out by virtue of his proud, straight bearing, his aura of confidence and his devastating good looks. Peter Knight was a man who would be noticed anywhere. His body was firm and muscular, without an ounce of excess fat. His white slacks were impeccably tailored and the navy blue polo shirt he wore accentuated his broad chest and ample biceps. He was a youthful forty, a man with the features of Paul Newman, except that his eyes were hazel and his dark brown wavy hair was only slightly streaked with strands of gray. He was deeply tanned, and had acquired little laugh lines around his deep-set eyes. He smiled readily, showing strong and even white teeth. How different was his expression now from the one Davie remembered when she had seen him last three long years ago. In those days, Peter Knight was a successful commodity broker with a seat on the New York Stock Exchange. He was harried and depressed usually, the sunny side of his nature occluded by a bad marriage and what he called the 'New York rat race' – both of which he wanted out of. He had always dreamed of opening his own resort, but Davie's mother wouldn't hear of it. She wanted the prestige, the financial security, the social life that went with being a successful broker's wife, though she had plenty of family money of her own and didn't have to rely upon his income for the lavish and pointless lifestyle that ensnared them. It took guts to make the break, but Peter Knight felt that, except for Davie, leaving New York was the best think he had ever done. The resort was an immediate success. He always had tile Midas touch for financial ventures. But he was apprehensive about his little girl. What would she be like now? Would he be able to handle her? Had three years of her mother's poison gotten to her after all? Her letters were warm and loving. Still, he had to acknowledge that they really didn't know each other very well. They were both living with fantasies and memories of the past. She was sixteen now; a teenager. Christ, he didn't know a damned thing about teenagers… especially a sixteen year old girl!
Twelve passengers descended the metal stairs from the twin-engine plane. Peter Knight's heartbeat quickened as he spotted the shy and stunning young girl who walked in the company of a flashy blonde he recognized as a previous guest at the resort. She was a stewardess, a hot number who had made overtures to him in the past. But he was very cautious about getting involved with his paying clients. It was too risky for a lot of reasons.
He went to the girls, a big appealing grin on his face. His manner was smooth and straightforward but his palms were damp.
'Davie! How are you, sweetheart?' he said as he rushed to embrace his daughter. Her sunny, angular little girl's body had been transformed into the soft, round curves of a young woman. He could feel the warmth of her firm globular breasts against his chest as he hugged her. Her glossy, sable hair was fragrant with a clean herb scent, like wild grasses in a field. It was longer than before, framing her beautiful young face whose clear, hazel eyes shone moistly from tears of emotion.
'Oh Daddy, Daddy! I thought I'd never see you again!' Davie cried. She was almost sobbing now.
Peter Knight held his daughter closely for another long moment, a moment which was fraught with unvoiced emotion. Then he was conscious of the smiling blonde who was observing them from just a few feet away. She had the same faintly predatory look that had raised a red flag in his mind when he had seen her before. But he had to admit that she was a good-looking broad all right, with the best pair of legs he had ever seen. And boobs that jutted out like ripe melons aching to be plucked. She must have fucked a thousand guys, he thought to himself. I'll bet she's one hellulva piece of ass.
He extended his hand to Trish, 'I'm Peter Knight. I think we've met at French Leave.'
Davie interjected excitedly. 'Oh excuse me, Trish, Daddy, this is my friend, Trish Byers. She's stayed with you before. She's a stewardess with Pan Am.'
He overlooked the innocent faux pas. 'Yes, I recognize Miss Byers as one of our guests. Nice to see you again, Miss Byers.'
'Daddy don't call her Miss Byers. That makes her feel old. She wants to be called Trish.'
The blonde grinned with embarrassment, but she gave him a practiced provocative look.
