Disclaimer: This story contains scenes of incest. If you find this subject disturbing or objectionable, please move along without reading another word. I didn't write it to upset or offend anyone. I wrote it for one specific person and my only hope is it helps her on her journey. She and I are the only ones who know what that is, to my knowledge. Any constructive criticism on style, content, etc. is welcome as a growth opportunity for other possible future works. Any negative comments about subject matter will be diligently ignored, because I honestly don't give a shit...
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We landed in St Thomas early Friday afternoon. After a predictable wait for luggage at baggage claim, we got lucky and hailed the third taxi in the rank.
As I helped the driver load our bags into the back, I observed, "Ashley, you definitely pack differently than your mom. Her purse is heavier than this."
"We're in the Virgin Islands for a week, Dad. Bikinis, shorts and sundresses don't weigh much," she replied with faux annoyance and a grin. "Thanks, for bringing me, Daddy. Best winter break ever. Everyone is jealous."
"Everyone?!" I laugh, as we climb into the back of the cab. "Yeah, I'm sure all your friends are jealous of you spending 10 days at the beach with your dad. Every 18-year-old's nightmare. Sorry Fabi got sick. That stinks. Now you both are going to be miserable for senior winter break. Sorry, kiddo."
"Ha! Fabi is so pissed! She was dying to come."
"I'm sure. A week in VI doesn't happen often!"
"Yeah," she smirked. "That and she's had a crush on you for years! Now I get you all to myself." It was no secret. Everyone joked about it openly in our house, including Fabi on her many sleepovers. It was flattering, but I had no interest, of course.
And I knew Ashley was mostly serious about having me all to herself. We had always been very close. It was a point of pride with mom. She thought it was so sweet how we were together. It seemed to validate her as a wife and mother. My best moment as a father, so far, had been one Saturday night when we were watching a movie. Ashley told the boy she had over, who was hoping to be her latest bae, that I was the funniest person she knew. I smiled about that for days.
Ashley is no man eater. But the boys she brought around seemed to have a shorter shelf life than those of her friends. In our discussions, her mom and I had decided that it was more a result of her mature outlook than a reason for concern. She has always been a bit of an old soul. This was confirmed the time I asked her point blank, on one of our Saturday afternoon outings, why she didn't seem to keep boys around as long as her friends did. She casually replied, "Probably because they're boys. The cute ones will have a chance when they grow up. Maybe..." We both laughed over that. Me mostly in relief...
The 40-minute ride to the resort went quickly. It was advertised as condos, but they were really cottages, separated by tropical foliage for privacy. Ours was a two bedroom with a big deck and a boardwalk leading out to the private beach. I tipped the porter for dropping our luggage in our rooms and giving us a quick tour of our lodgings. I forgot to check the fridge and pantry to make sure all the basics I had requested were there before he left, but everything seemed to be in order.
Ashley walked up, gave me a big, full body hug and said, "Thanks for this, Daddy. Can't think of a better way to spend a week than here with you."
"Sure sweetie. Sorry mom and Fabi couldn't come. I hope you're not going to be too bored. Nine days is a long time to be stuck alone with your Dad. I'm sure there will be some cute boys around to distract you."
"Whatever. I've got the cutest boy on the island staying right here with me! And the funniest!" she beamed.
"That's sweet of you, honey," I grinned. "Ok, unpack and beach?"
"And brilliant. You always know what to do next," she smiled teasingly.
"Smart-ass," I grumbled, playfully. And we headed off to our rooms to unpack and change.
I put my clothes in drawers and the closet, dropped my Dopp kit by the sink in the bathroom and pulled on my trunks and a t-shirt. Then I went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out onto the deck to wait for Ashley. It was a gorgeous day. Around 80, low humidity, a fresh breeze and broken clouds in the sky. We should be able to get some good beach time in before dinner.
I took my first swig of beer and heard, "Ready, Dad," from behind me
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"That was quick," I replied as I turned to see Ashley emerge through the open French door in one of my old t-shirts as a cover up and her beach bag over her shoulder. "Did you get a towel and sunscreen?"
"Yep. And for you, too. I brought a book and magazines. Not sure I feel like reading, though."
"Seems like a lot of work right now. You want a beer or some wine? I'll grab it for you."
"You sure, daddy. I'm not 21, we might get in trouble."
"Mom and I told you, you're old enough to serve in the army so you're old enough to drink. At least when you're with us. Don't be dumb and we won't have a problem. If anyone here even says anything on the beach, they'll just make you pour it out." Ashley had always been a good kid and had earned the right to start being treated like an adult. In some ways. Still had to protect my little girl, though.
"Ok, daddy. I'll have a beer, too. And grab me a bottle of water, please." I retrieved a beer and two bottles of water and we headed out to the beach. We found two unoccupied chairs and a nice young man came over and offered us an umbrella, which we accepted and charged to the room, along with a generous tip.
As Ashley started spreading her towel out on her chair I said, "I can't believe you still use my ratty old t-shirt as a cover-up. You could've bought something cute when you went shopping for the trip, Ash."
"It's not ratty, Dad. I don't do ratty. It's got "character". And I like the way it feels on my skin. And it's not old. It's vintage," she added with a grin.
"Oh, great. I'm vintage," I moaned.
"Vintage, not antique, Daddy. Like wine, you're getting better with age," she giggled. With that, she turned, grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it over her head. Lord help me...