Island Adventure 2

ISLAND ADVENTURE

(This is a familiar plot. I found myself at a standstill on another story I was writing. It was going in a direction I've avoided so far. So, I started this, to clean my mental slate. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

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I looked at my wife of five years. I said, "Erin, it's him or me. No in between."

She was sitting next to my nominal boss, Plato Giannis. She had been holding his well- manicured hand until I spoke. She withdrew hers from his. A look of mixed consternation and fear crossed her pretty face. She shook her head wonderingly, causing her blond hair to shimmer in the mood lighting.

She said, "It's only for the weekend. Monday, back to normal. Can't you have some fun with Elle?"

Elle was Elle Logan, true name Ellen Johnson. She was sitting next to me and had been making a very intense effort to seduce me for the last few hours. She was a stunning woman, with lustrous dark hair and a body that had to be among the best in the world. Especially if you like curves. Which I most assuredly did. She was also rumored to be a high-end escort.

It was all part of Plato's schtick. When Erin and I had been invited to this island for a weekend, the alleged purpose was for him to get to know me. I was a published author, and he had purchased the corporation that published my work. That was about three months ago.

But the entire weekend was designed so that Plato could fuck my wife. I was a mid-list writer of mysteries and thrillers. My 'hero' was Rick Rocker. Sometimes he would solve locked room mysteries. Sometimes he would dive from cliffs to escape madmen. He also had a varied and interesting sex life, bedding beautiful women at the drop of his boxers. He was a martial arts expert and trained assassin. All in all, a jack of all trades. He was fantasy, clothed in a thin sheet of reality, and the books sold quite well.

But the publisher had several more important and some better selling writers. I was the one with a pretty wife that Plato had taken a shine to. The two had met at a get-acquainted dinner dance thrown by Plato, Mr. G, for his stable of writers and editors. It was an impressive bash, and Erin was suitably impressed. She was especially impressed when she and Mr. G danced to several numbers. He was a smooth character, ten years older than Erin's twenty-eight. He had dark hair, longish, and he was a big man, 6'2", weighing a solid two-ten. When I watched the two of them dance, I saw that he was also light on his feet.

The two returned to our table when the band took a break, and Mr. G, said, "You have a lovely wife, Donald. She's a very good dancer."

I nodded. My lack of a reply seemed to stump him for a second. Then he said, "Well, I must see to my other guests. A pleasure, Madam."

Erin smiled and said, "Likewise, Plato."

I glanced at her. She sure had gotten quickly from Mr. G to Plato. I asked, "Are you impressed with my boss?"

"Oh, yes! He's a charmer for sure." She gave me a lewd grin.

"Well, we'll see whose wife he hits on next, eh?"

It was the wife of one of the editors. And there were three more throughout the evening. That was a month ago.

My name is Donald Lake. No need for a pen name. I'm 5'11", 170. Curly brown hair, blue eyes. Thirty years old. I'm fit and athletic. Erin is also quite fit. She does fencing. It's a sport of skill and coordination. And it's where I met her - at a fencing class she was teaching. I was doing my regular research for Rick, who was going to have an epee battle in the next book. A swashbuckler.

I always do extensive research before I write the Rocker books. It was one of my top selling points. Rick didn't do anything I hadn't tried.

I had worked my way up a steep ladder as a writer. I got out of high school, and went no further in my formal education. I knew I was a writer back then, and really since I was ten. I wrote story after story all through school. Two I wrote in high school were published, although by obscure literary quarterlies. I saw myself as a serious writer, until I had to make a living out of high school. I was working as an auto mechanic, and I liked it, but it didn't pay so much. I started writing thriller stories. And....wonder of wonders, one sold. Then another, and more. I got signed by my current publisher after I sent them the first Rick Rocker novel. They gave me an editor, Sally Baker. She and I hit it off right away. She's a cutie, but very married, with grade school kids then.

It was while working on the second Rocker book that I met Erin. I completed the book, with advice from her about the sword duel. And we went out on several dates, soon ending up in bed. We were fantastic in bed. We meshed right away, and I know we were both thrilled by that. Erin was working at her own music store when we met. She came from money, and was able to weather the initial stages of starting a business with loans from a family trust. One section of the store sold instruments of all kinds, and the other sold recorded music of all kinds, and sheet music. So, fencing was only a hobby.

She was twenty-three when we married, and I was about as happy as ever I thought I could be. We had plans for children, and soon. But my publisher was sold to Mr. G. Or Plato to Erin.

One day Erin came home, excited. "Donnie, Plato has invited us to his island for the weekend after next!"

I stared at her. "You mean Mr. G? How....well, why are you telling me this and not him?"

"Oh, I ran into him last week. We had lunch. Then I gave him a tour of the store. Today he called with the invitation. He says he want to get to know his writers. I'm sure he'll be in touch with you soon."

"But, my question is - Has he been in touch with you? And how much of you has he been in touch with?"

She paled a bit. "Nothing like that had happened, Donnie. You're paranoid."

"No. I'm not. Tell me why you didn't mention the lunch and store visit before today. It was last week, right?"

She looked away. "Okay, Donald. He did kinda come on to me. I shut him down. But I didn't say anything, because I thought you'd get in trouble. He owns the company."

"And now you seem thrilled at the idea of us visiting him on his island. I've heard about that place. How many others will be there?"

"Just us. He has a special friend who'll also be there. And staff, of course. This is his time to get to know you."

"Seems to me that this is his time to get to know you. All of you. So touching."

"I can handle that."

"I bet you can."

"Stop! It'll be great, you'll see."

"I'm going to decline the invitation, Erin. Just too dangerous for us."

"Oh, Donnie, No. Please. We'll have fun"

"Sorry."

She pouted the rest of the evening. The next day I called the head office, asked for Mr. G. And he called me back in fifteen minutes.

He said, "Hello, Donald. I'm looking forward to our weekend on the island."

"I'm declining, Mr. G. I don't feel comfortable. My wife seems to have known about this, but not me. In fact, she seems to have had lunch with you, and not told me about it. She says you came on to her and she was worried that I'd react badly if she told me. She was correct."

"Donald, I do appreciate Erin, on several different levels. She's very attractive. But I can leave that alone. She's also an entrepreneur. Like me. And you're one of my most profitable writers. I only want to get to know both of you."

"Sorry, Mr. G. Not happening."

"I'm so sorry that you feel that way, Donald. I'd like you to reconsider. I'll keep the weekend open."

We disconnected with that. About three hours later, as I was finishing the next Rick book, I got a call from my agent, Brock Levine."

He said, "Don, you declined Mr. G's invitation. Why?"

"How do you even know that, Brock?"

"The VP for sales called me about it. He's adamant that you should go."

"Or else what?"

"They could under promote the new book. It would cost you. And me, since we have a percentage."

"Did he make that threat?"

"Not directly. But it was there. This guy G plays hardball."

I said, "I'll get back to you, Brock."

When I hung up, I emailed the end of the new book to Sally with some instructions. She called later, and we had a discussion. But in the meantime, I did very intensive research on Plato Giannis, and his island.

The island was called 'Hedonismos.' Greek for pleasure. Pleasure Island. Diving deeper, I found several stories about sexual shenanigans there. And there was a reference to two divorce cases that mentioned the island as grounds. But these stories were in gossip rags. There were some photos of Mr. G with women. Two of them were married.

I found the entire thing unsettling. I pulled up a Google maps image of the place. I familiarized myself with the entire place. The island was two miles long and about one mile wide. It was off the coast of North Carolina, among some islands where people went to play golf, and do beachy things. The island faced south, and was sheltered from most bad weather. It had two docks, and several buildings, including a large house. There were tennis courts and a pool. Why a pool when it had great beaches?

I downloaded detailed photos of the place, and got a topo map as well. It seemed to me that getting there and back required a decent boat or a seaplane. I had neither. But I knew people who did have one or both.

Erin was home on time that evening, a Friday.

She seemed happy when she came in. I had a big salad, with chicken, prepped for dinner, white wine. She went up to change. As we ate, Erin said, "I hear you may have changed your mind about the island trip."

I looked at her, "Where did that come from?"

"Plato told me you might reconsider."

"Over lunch?"

"No, silly. He's in New York, and we're here in good ole Virginia. He called."

"He has a place in McLean. How do you know he's in New York?"

"Don't get paranoid on me, Donnie. He mentioned it. He said that if we accept, he'd have his plane get us at National."

"But we won't accept, Erin. I haven't changed my mind."

"Shit! Donald Lake, you're so stubborn."

"Erin, you can go. I wouldn't have a good time there, because I'd be worried that we'd end up divorcing. You'll sleep with him, right?"

"I wouldn't go without you, Don. How could you.....I mean, if I went alone, anything might happen."

"Would happen. When you got back, we'd never sleep together again."

"Donnie, I can't say that I'm not attracted to him. But you and I are still hotter than hot. So, I wouldn't risk that. I wouldn't."

"So you say."

"No trust? No trust at all?"

I said, "This is a time when my tank of trust is close to empty." (I am a writer, after all.)

She got up quickly from the table, spilling her wine. "Damn! Look what you made me do."

I started laughing at her. She realized how silly she'd sounded and joined in. That developed into some hugs and kisses, which developed into a trip upstairs. That took a whole hour. Desert waited.

As we lay in bed, after, Erin said, "I wouldn't risk this for some billionaire. Promise."

I noted that she seemed to assume that we would go to the island. Otherwise, what risk?"

I said, "Good. It's settled, then."

She stiffened up. But she said nothing. I asked, "Why are you so hot to go on this trip? Truth, not a selling job."

She didn't reply for quite some time. Then she said, "It seemed exciting. To be with such an important and influential guy. Sorry. I didn't mean 'with' like that. I meant socializing."

"Erin, I looked into him. He was born rich. Granted he made a lot more money, but he had a huge head start. And he pursues women. Women like you."

"Okay. Well, I still believe it would work out well, and be fun."

I thought about it. We were set to start trying for a family. If Erin was going to stray, this was a time she'd do it. And if she was, I guessed I'd like to know now, instead of when we had kids. I loved her. She was smart, lively and sexy as hell. But she also had to be true, and now I was having my doubts.

I said, "Okay, Erin. We can go. But, a warning, if you end up with that guy, we're toast. No way back. Understand?"

"Yes. I understand. I'm so happy we can do this."

I decided that the warning I just gave was the last one. Either she was a worthy wife, or not. Temptation was the test. Time would tell.

I accepted the invitation the next day, and made some arrangements with a friend of mine, in case of emergency. I also checked out cell phone service on the island. It was available. But I tossed in a satellite phone, just in case.

The small plane we took from National landed at a small airport, where a black man named Simon picked us up. He drove us to a dock, where we got onto a boat with a nice cabin, and a big motor. There was another guy, Charlie, who drove the boat, docking on the island about forty minutes later. Erin and I spent the trip looking at the ocean, and some other islands. Simon told us where we were, and gave a general account of what there would be to do on the island. He was a pleasant guy, bigger than me, and muscular. He had a great smile and laugh.

As we were approaching the dock on the north side of the island, Erin was up front. Simon said, "You don't appear to be very happy about the trip, Mr. Lake."

"Call me Don. I have my doubts. Have you worked on the island a while?"

"Six years. For Mr. G."

"Then I expect that you know why I have my doubts."

"Why have you come, then? If you're worried like that?"

"To see what happens. Are you also his bodyguard?"

"Yes. In case something gets physical."

"Well, he's a big guy. I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"Yes. You could say that I'm back up. Once or twice things did not go well. But I have not been needed in those times. Looking at you, maybe......I'll be ready. I have my job. Are you armed?"

"No. Well, I have my knife. But knives are available anywhere. Are there guns on the island?"

"No. Not permitted. I believe that was in the handout you got."

"Yep. I didn't trust that much. I'm not a trusting fellow, nowadays."

"No guns. I warn you, no guns will be needed, whatever develops."

The boat pulled snugly up to the dock, and Simon and a young man on the dock tied it off. Simon gave Erin a hand off the boat, and I jumped. Simon looked a little unsettled by that. I accompanied Erin toward a large house, as Simon had indicated.

Mr. G met us as we walked up to the front. Dress was casual and he was wearing bathing trunks and a sleeveless shirt. With him was Elle, the most beautiful woman in the world. I had looked into her when I knew who else would be there with us. That's how I knew she was really Ellen Johnson from Johnstown. She was the semi-official hostess on the island, as well as at the several houses owned by Mr. G. There had been a time when she was also seen in the company of other men of distinction. Not so much anymore. Mr. G seemed to have an exclusive arrangement, in some way, at least.

Mr. G held out his hand for a shake, and Elle gave Erin a hug. Then G hugged Erin and Elle hugged me. She smelled and felt great. Her lips brushed past my ear during the hug.

They took us into a large room, and offered us drinks. It was one o'clock, and we had eaten lightly on the plane. But there was a small buffet set out for us.

I declined the drinks, and took sparkling water. Erin had wine. We both ate smallish amounts from the buffet.

As we did that, Mr. G asked me about the new book.

"I sent it to Sally last week. It's on time, I believe."

"Oh, yes. I know you're always on time, Donald. Sometimes early." He smiled.

Elle asked, "What's it about? I've read all your books."

"It's a thriller, with climbing and flying small planes. And a love interest."

Elle said, "I can't wait. Maybe I can get an early peek?"

Mr. G said, "We'll see, darling."

He turned to Erin, "My dear, how is the music business?"

"Going great guns. Maybe I should have said, 'At a crescendo.'"

Some chuckling ensued. I said, "I believe Marjorie's new one is going to sell well." Marjorie was Marjorie Wright, who wrote serious fiction, but still sold a lot of books.

"Yes. She's moving up our sales list. But, Donald, she's nowhere near you or Morgan."

Morgan wrote under the name Belle Starling, and did romance novels. He/she was the number one seller in our company.

"Morgan just turns them out." I said it archly.

Mr. G laughed. "And so he does, much to my profit. I looked over your contract last week. You owe us one more book."

"Yes. So true. Due Christmas Eve, I think. Nine months. But it's well underway."

Elle said, "You juggle the writing?"

"Yes. Sometimes the thrillers need a rest. So, I switch up. The next one is an English village mystery. I researched it out when we were over there last summer."

Elle said, "Plato has been very complimentary about your sales. Each book sells better than the last."

Erin said, "He's building readership. For our future. My store normally ekes out a profit."

Elle said, "But you do have family money?"

"Yes. It came to me. So far, after the store got up and going, I've left it alone."

Mr. G jumped up. "If you've finished lunch, let's go for a swim!" He dashed out the door.

Elle said, "If you have suits, I'll show you your room and you can change."

We three went up and Elle led us to a large bedroom, with a queen bed. En Suite. She closed the door. We changed into suits. I had a normal pair of trunks. But Erin put on a skimpy pink bikini.

I said, "That's a bit much, eh? Who are you trying to impress?"

"I do want to look good. Elle is so beautiful."

"No more than you, daaarrrling." She didn't like my tone there, but held her tongue.

When we came down, Elle was in an electric blue bikini, just as small as Erin's. I was totally in love. With both.

We went out, and walked down to a beach on the south side of the island. There was a wooden walkway. Mr. G was already in the water, swimming beyond the breakers.

Erin said, "I'm not going out that far."

"Me either." Elle shivered as she spoke.

I dove through the surf, surfaced, and swam out to where Mr. G was doing a crawl. I joined him. He was a good swimmer, for someone of his build. But my build was more suited to the water, and I easily kept pace, sometimes switching strokes.

I kept going until he appeared to tire. He headed back, and I followed. As we came to the beach, a big wave knocked him down. I went to him and pulled him up. He was spitting out seawater and sand. I held him steady, and we walked out. I could see that he had wet-noodle legs, likely because he had overdone his swim in some sort of competition with me. But he recovered quickly and shook off my help.

"I'm okay. Just got surprised by that wave." We walked up to the women, who were lying on lounges in the sun.

I said, "Who's up for a swim?"

Elle got right up. She raised her hand, causing some slippage on her top. "Me!." She ran toward the surf. I looked at Erin. She shook her head.

I ran after Elle. The view from the rear was spectacular. She dove through the surf like an Olympian and swan out beyond the breakers. I followed.

She was a better swimmer than Mr.G. I was amazed by that. We swam next to each other for some distance and she shouted, "Turn." Which she did. A flash of flesh kept me interested. I let her have a twelve foot lead, and watched her from the side. She went into a back stroke. When she did that, I almost had one. Her breasts jiggled in and out of the water. She was a completely stunning woman. The backstroke was a specialty of mine, so I joined her, swimming by her side. We went quite some distance, and then she said, "Time for me." She took off toward shore. I waited a bit, to get a rear view.

I was erect when I came out of the surf. Couldn't help it, and didn't try. Erin and Mr. G were nowhere in sight. But Elle was staring straight at my tented suit. She said, "How can you be hard after those swims? Are you Superman?"