mouth!'
'You saw that? You saw that? Oh my God! Oh my poor darling girl!' he said, rising from his chair and coming over to kneel beside her and hug her to his broad chest. He was almost as overcome with emotion as she was. She sobbed into his jacket and he stroked her silky hair, smelling again the clean, untainted fragrance of wild grasses newly mown. 'Davie, my darling Davie, I'm so sorry, darling. So very, very sorry!' he said to her, the anguish apparent in his voice.
She went on, compelled to complete the gruesome story, which had lain on her chest like a millstone. She had kept her secret to herself, too ashamed to tell her friends. There was no one she could confide in, until now. 'They didn't see me. The guys had their backs to the door. And my mother well, naturally she couldn't see anyone but that person. He's her decorator, Lewis. I didn't know the other one. I ran to my room and stayed there the rest of the day. Oh Daddy, it was so awful, so sick! And all this time, I can't even have a party at the house with boys! I can't go to a dance or a movie or anything unless there's a grownup along! Yet she sends me to this school, so she can say, 'My daughter goes to this very proper, very fashionable lah-dee-dah school for rich girls.' Hah! If she only knew what went on there!'
Now Peter Knight had another source of concern. 'What are you taking about, Davie?'
'Daddy, you wouldn't believe it. Practically all the girls smoke dope, and some even push it! I've done it myself – smoked it a few times. They call you a square if you don't. And some of my friends drink. Are you shocked, Daddy, to find out that your little girl knows how to drink and smoke dope? I don't really dig it that much. But I have to go along with it. Otherwise I won't have any friends at all! But that's not the worst. There are other things you'd be shocked, Daddy, you really would be.'
He was already as shocked as he ever expected to be. Now, her last statement had hinted of a thing he couldn't bear to face. Not his little girl. Not Davie. He gave her an incredulous and wounded look it conveyed his thoughts.
'Don't worry, Daddy I'm not talking about boys – although there's a lot of that with some of the girls. It's worse than that, in a way. Do you know what I'm taking about?'
One apprehension exited only to be followed close on the heels by another one. His mind was racing. He felt a terrible queasiness in the pit of his stomach.
'You don't mean…?' He couldn't say it.
'Slumber parties. I didn't want to go when I found out what was going on – what was expected of me. But they gave me a really hard time. Called me names and made fun of me. So I… finally had to go along. But I don't like myself for being weak. I guess in some ways, that makes me just about as rotten a person as my mother…'
'No, Davie, no!' he defended. His jaw was clenched but there was compassion in his eyes. Compassion, pain and great love. He blamed himself for his daughter's debasement. If only he had stayed in New York… if only he hadn't run away to the solace of an island paradise… But he knew all too well the futility of the 'if only' game – and it was a game. Now his task was to rescue Davie from the sordid existence her mother had exposed her to. Curse that bitch! He would see to it that his precious daughter was freed from her mother's clutches if it was the last thing he did – even if it meant selling French Leave and moving to another part of the country… or to another part of the world!
But how? Davie was still a minor, and in her mother's custody. Yet he knew perfectly well that if she wanted to live with him no judge in the world would send a truant officer to drag her back to her mother. Still, Francine was vindictive – hadn't she kept Davie from seeing him for three long years? And she had money. Next to fear, money was The Great Persuader. She might hound him to the ends of the earth, just to make him suffer. What could he do that would keep Francine off his back and Davie in his life for as long as she wanted, until she was ready to go off on her own? He suddenly realized that he hadn't asked his daughter if she would, in fact, like to remain with him. Unless she did, his efforts would all be in vain.
He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab his daughter's eyes very gently. God, she was lovely. It sickened him afresh to recall the details of her mother's perverted display. What the hell had gone haywire with Francine? He always felt she preferred no sex to any kind of lovemaking at all! But then, that was with him. How could she have turned on to faggots at this stage in life!
'Davie… sweetheart,' he said softly. 'Tell me something. I want you to be completely honest, darling. Don't say anything you don't mean – not even to spare my feelings. I've got to know the absolute truth, OK?'
She looked at him so earnestly, so ingenuously that he was embarrassed at having asked for her honesty. 'Sure, Daddy I'll level with you,' she answered, managing a small but endearing smile.
'Darling, do you think you could be happy living with me – I mean, living with me for a long, long time; not just these next ten days?'
She broke into an excited smile and threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off balance as he kneeled on the floor. 'Oh, Daddy, do you mean it? Can I stay with you, forever? Oh yes! Yes, I want to be with you, Daddy. I love you so much! You're the only person in the whole world I love. Don't send me back there, Daddy. Please, please don't make me go back!'
Peter Knight hugged his daughter tightly as he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. Nothing in the world could have made him happier at that moment. 'Don't worry, darling, I won't. It's all going to work out, Davie. Everything's going to be fine – just fine!'
She drew back from him, a quizzical look on her beautiful face. 'That's funny…'
'Funny?' He was puzzled.
'Yeah. Trish said the same thing…'
CHAPTER FOUR
The day dawned predictably golden on the island of Eleuthera. Lavender fingers of light were reaching up into the sky when Randy Ferris cautiously opened the door of the bungalow he had shared with his sister the night before and made his way to the red MG parked down the road. He had to work today. But he would be back at French Leave tonight… in time to get acquainted with Davie Knight! Then, tomorrow… tomorrow would be the beginning of a glorious weekend and – if Trish knew what she was talking about – a glorious fuck with the delectable virgin schoolgirl! Hell, it just might be the beginning of a ten-day orgy with the kid! Trish's plan was risky – Knight was a tough nut to crack. But if she pulled it off (and if anyone could pull it off, she could) he'd be in cunt heaven in less than thirty-six hours!
His thoughts, and the delicious anticipation of the lay that lay in store for him – oh, please! – gave him a huge erection on the way to the car. Down, boy, he commanded the willful instrument, you'll get your chance to dance… in her pants!
In another part of the compound, Peter Knight awoke at his customary time: 5:30 A.M., sporting a huge erection. He had been dreaming, and his dreams were blurred but erotic. He had slept badly the night before, tortured by the remembrance of what Davie had told him about her mother and the shocking things that went on at school. But the sordid expose had also led his sexual fantasies as he lay awake tossing fitfully, his beleaguered mind giving him repetitive instant replays of the conversation with his darling daughter. In moments of surcease he was badgered with questions, and spent the rest of his insomniacal moments trying to devise a scheme for successfully keeping Davie at his side.
He tried to force the intruding fantasies from his mind, but they persisted maddeningly. His pulse quickened and his breathing became abbreviated. His mouth was dry and the tingling in his loins increased. Goddammit! he swore under his breath, what's the matter with me? I'm a civilized man, not an animal. I can't allow myself to get hot – not now. Not with Davie in the next room!
He looked across the room and beyond, to the enclosed lanai where his daughter lay asleep on the long, broad daybed that also served as a couch. It was customarily adorned with huge, floppy cushions and was a favorite place of his for reading or just having a drink and looking at the beach and sea. Now his lovely daughter adorned it. She had kicked off the light covers and was sprawled on her back, one arm above her head and the opposing knee drawn up to her waist, exposing the crotch of the pale blue nylon pajama panties that she wore under her sleeveless, shortie gown. Even at a distance of fifteen feet, Knight could see a few wisps of delicate dark
