How They May Be

"Yeah." Emily's smile flickered in place. "I guess we do." She glanced up the staircase for a few moments, just long enough for me to offer to get her bag for her, and then wandered out to the car.

It was a substantive trip - an hour driving, another navigating the airport, five hours in flight. I killed most of the time with a cheap paperback thriller from the airport gift shop, while Emily napped, commandeering my shoulder for her pillow despite the plush comforts afforded by our first-class seats. I certainly didn't mind. There was a pleasant kind of glow in sitting there with her head against me, a comfort in half-listening to the soft susurrations of her breath. I only wished that I could experience it without the tickle of erotic fascination lurking in the background of my mind, that I could feel again my simple paternal love for her. Instead, I was disquieted to realize that even the memory of that feeling was slipping away from me - I had to struggle to recapture even briefly the innocence of fatherly love, as though this lust was reaching back to pollute my recollections.

We arrived at just after noon, local time, secured our baggage from the conveyors, and looked around for the transportation that was to take us to our hotel. We did not have to hunt long - a luxury bus was waiting perhaps twenty feet down the street from the terminal doors, with a sign bearing the name of my employer in the window and a bored-looking, moderately overweight Hawaiian man with a clipboard standing at the door. We wheeled our bags up to him and looked expectant.

"Name?" He barely glanced up at me, and I noted with faint distaste that he was chewing on a toothpick.

"Mark West. And she's Emily." I kept my tone affable.

The man grunted acknowledgment and flipped through the first few pages on his clipboard. "Mark Robert West, with spouse Emily West?"

"That's us," I agreed brightly, only the smallest tightening in my throat from the implicit lie.

He looked us over solidly for the first time then, Emily giving him a little wave of the fingers as he grimaced at her. "Then welcome to Hawai'i," he greeted us with less than perfect sincerity. "Just hop aboard. I'll stow your luggage." And he shot me a watery, unfriendly smile.

Emily was quiet as we boarded the bus, finding it about half-full of unfamiliar people. The retreat drew managers and executives from all the western states, and constituted the only contact most of them had with each other. Not, in all honesty, the best use of resources. She whispered to me as we settled into seats near the back, "Well, he wasn't very nice, was he?"

"He's had to deal with a lot of big shots today, and will have to deal with a lot more before he's done," I whispered back. "That would make anyone irritable."

A quiet laugh. "I guess so."

"Besides," I intuited another reason for the man's antagonism, "He has to see how old guys like me are taking all the beautiful young women." And just in case the implication wasn't obvious, I jabbed Emily lightly in the side with my elbow, making her grin and look away. I knew I shouldn't be complimenting her appearance like this, but I loved the way her eyes lit up and her cheeks reddened every time I did so. Anyway, I thought, it was just words. If it was safe to pretend to be married to her, it was certainly safe to tell her occasionally how attractive she was.

Once a few more people boarded the bus, and its twin showed up behind us to accommodate those who were to follow, we were off on the last and mercifully shortest leg of our journey. Barely fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, marveling at its garishly pink Spanish architecture. Check-in was efficient; people were ready right where the bus let us out to hand us our keys and trundle our bags to our rooms, while we headed off to the ballroom for the first official event of the retreat: a formal mixer.

I'm honestly proud to say that somewhere in the previous decade, I had lost my taste for the petty falsity of corporate politics. I could still dance the dance to the extent required, wander the room glad-handing any and all I happened to bump up against, babble on about the latest synergy-building models, but I took no satisfaction in it, and avoided it whenever possible. Indeed, I was suddenly glad of Emily's presence, as I could happen to be engaged in conversation with her when someone blundered up next to me with whom I would otherwise have to exchange names, titles, and management strategies. Unfortunately, this failed to protect me when I happened to run into someone who actually worked in the same building as me.

"Mark!" The forceful female voice grabbed my attention first, and then she emerged from the crowd. Katheryn Gessel. A sharp-faced woman with a steel-edged smile, she was my counterpart in acquisitions, two floors up. We had a positive if infrequent professional relationship, and for a time had even met each other occasionally outside of work, until I sensed the subtext in her frequent discussion of mergers. There was a hungry aspect to her that I didn't entirely care for.

"Mark, I'm glad to see you made it," she greeted me with a dainty handshake that clashed with her tall-shouldered power suit. "I know you're going to have a lot to contribute to the round-table on growth projections."

"Katheryn." My smile was reasonably honest. "It's good to see you, too. How was your flight out? I'm surprised we weren't on the same plane."

"Oh, I had a minor consult, so they stuck me on an earlier flight." She laughed once, tightly. "The trip itself wasn't so bad, but breakfast on the plane was another story. Calling something eggs benedict really doesn't make it so."

I chuckled politely. "I know what you mean. Ours was a lunch flight, and they-"

Our commiserations were interrupted by a gentle cough from Emily - when I turned to look at her, she raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Of course," I shook my head, "where are my manners? Emily, this is my...well, I guess you could call her my co-worker, Katheryn. Katheryn, this is Emily."

"His wife, Emily," she clarified firmly.

"Ah - yes," I agreed helplessly, "My wife, Emily."

Katheryn blinked. "Really." For a long moment, she and Emily shared a look like a pair of gunslingers sizing one another up, and I swear I felt the temperature drop a degree or two. When it broke, they both nodded in frigidly formal greeting, Emily uttering a curt "Charmed."

"Delighted." Katheryn turned back to me, her smile a trifle thinner than it had been a moment ago. "I must say, Mark, I had no idea you had gotten married. I suppose congratulations are in order. It can't have happened long ago." There was a trace of archness in her last statement.

"No, no, I would say not," I quietly panicked, wishing now that we had bothered to come up with a backstory. "Really, now that I think about it, it was very sudden. And, ah, very recent, that as well."

As Katheryn gave me a quizzical look, Emily came to my rescue, clasping her arm around mine possessively. "It was one of those whirlwind romances you always hear about. We met while jogging in the park just two months ago, and I swear, it was love at first sight. He proposed a week later. Ring in the champagne glass - I mean, really cheesy, but so sweet. I couldn't possibly say no."

"I can imagine." Katheryn pursed her lips briefly, glanced at my nervous grin. "Well, I'm happy for you, Mark. I hope there are no regrets. I wouldn't really have pegged someone like her as being your type." The disdain in her voice was only half-heartedly concealed.

Emily's eyes flashed angrily, and she jumped in again before I could formulate a response. "Someone like me? I don't believe you know anything about me."

"I think I know enough." Scorn tightened Katheryn's face. "A young woman happens to fall madly in love with a successful middle-aged businessman, and teases him into a quickie wedding? Spare me. There are millions of women just like you out there. I guess I'm just surprised he didn't pick one with breasts."

There had been a smoldering hostility from the start, but this was a declaration of war - Emily was left with her mouth agape for fully two seconds before firing back. "So when are you getting yours chopped off? I mean, you've already got a man's face and clothes - I assume you're going for the hat trick."

"Very nice," Katheryn snapped. "Honestly, dear, it's just a suit. Those of us with skills found outside street corners often wear them."

"And it looks great on you," Emily gushed mockingly. "Really, it's absolutely inspiring to see a woman leading an independent life at, what, forty?" She put on a wide-eyed, innocent expression. "Fifty?"

Now it was Katheryn's turn to be struck dumb, and she looked murderously at Emily for a few moments, finally snarling "Unfortunately, I didn't have your example to teach me to whore myself out to the first man I meet with an expensive car."

"That's enough!" I finally regained my composure sufficiently to try to put a stop to this before we gathered too large of an audience. Already a number of the people nearby were watching the spat. "Katheryn, it was nice to see you. Thank you for the well-wishes." I politely pretended our conversation had never gone off the rails. "Emily, honey, please come with me." I grabbed hold of her hand - she still looked raring to fight, but permitted herself to be hauled off outside the room.

Once a safe distance into the hall, I quietly asked "What on earth was that all about, Emily?"

"Why don't you ask her?" she shot back, eyes burning fiercely. "She's the one who insulted me."

"She did," I admitted, "but you gave as good as you got. And besides, it was your idea to pretend to be a gold-digger. You have to expect that some people might have a negative reaction to that." I sighed softly. "It's going to be quite awkward the next time I have to collaborate with her."

"Well, it would've been, anyway," Emily muttered. "She was really jealous of me, I could tell. Were you and her..." She trailed off, let implication finish her question.

"No," I shook my head. "No. You may be right, though. I could tell at one point that she was interested." Emily was still visibly seething - I reached out and took hold of her shoulders, felt her tension as I squeezed them reassuringly. "But hey, listen, none of that matters. Are you okay? I've hardly ever seen anything get to you like this."

She expelled her breath in a long sigh and laughed self-consciously, her eyes on her feet. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I think it's just the excitement of the trip, you know, putting me on edge. I . . . I'm sorry if I made a scene, or if it's going to make anything harder for you at work." Looking up, she gave me a small, apologetic smile.

"Don't you worry about it, sweetheart." I stroked her cheek comfortingly with my thumb. "If you want to go in there and pee in the punchbowl, I'll deal with the fallout."

"Gross." Emily laughed again, this time with a bit more spirit. "I think I'll pass."

"All right, then." I reluctantly released her to glance at my watch. "It looks like this thing's nearly over, anyway. And after this, I've got a two-hour seminar to attend, so you'll be on your own for a little while. Are you going to be okay with that?"

With a good-natured roll of the eyes, she replied "I'm not twelve anymore, you know. I'll be fine."

"Okay, pumpkin. If you insist." I smiled tolerantly. "Where should I meet you when I'm done?"

"Um, I'm not sure." A small shrug. "I guess I'll wander around the hotel for a little bit, check out our room, then maybe head out to the beach. So you should be able to find me there." Suddenly she smirked. "If you can recognize me in my new bathing suit."

Excitement and apprehension warred in my heart at the suggestion, but I kept my face calm as best as I could. "Then I'll see you again in a couple of hours. Try to have some fun for me, huh?"

"I will." And with a lingering glance and a tiny wave, she set off down the hall, leaving me struggling to tear my eyes from the lively sashay of her pleasingly rounded backside. I had to admit, the dress did highlight her best features - her slim hips seemed almost to shimmer under the ebon and emerald fabric, to sway in double time as the skirt swung in opposition to her step. However much I exhorted myself to look away, the spell was not broken until she turned down another corridor and disappeared out of sight.

---

I got less than usual out of the seminar that afternoon. It was meant to convey new developments and techniques in the area of management science, but my thoughts kept drifting to Emily, to the tantalizing promise of her new swimwear. My perverse mind dressed her in smaller and smaller outfits, until by the time the seminar was reaching its end she scampered about in a scandalously tiny thong - just a few small scraps of cloth to cover her most private places, while most every inch of her skin was on glorious display, an imagined masterpiece of the distaff. When I was finally released, my thoughts permitted no other destination but the beach. I told myself it was to be sure she was getting along all right, but even at the time I knew this for a poor excuse, that in truth I hungered to see her in the nearest state to nudity I thought I ever would.

The hotel opened directly onto the sand, and the sun was dazzlingly bright after my imprisonment indoors. I had to stand in the doorway and shield my eyes from the glare for a time, before they adapted sufficiently to be cast in search of Emily across the lounge chairs and umbrellas which littered the beach. I recognized her perhaps fifteen meters out, lying on a towel in the shade of one of the umbrellas; there was no mistaking her petite, athletic frame, her ivory skin. The swimsuit she wore, of course, was nothing like the one I had fantasized - I would have been shocked if it were - but it was revealing enough to set my pulse racing all the same. A slim bikini in imperial purple, it contrasted stunningly with her skin, revealed the beautiful landscape of her lower chest and stomach, with her adorably winking belly button and the subtle ripple of abdominal muscle at her tummy. Its halter top nicely accentuated her breasts, suggesting much while revealing little. And as I drew up close, the breath caught in my throat to see how her pubic mound gently swelled from the bikini bottom, an achingly delicious protrusion. Objectively, today, the suit she wore might even be considered conservative, but at the time I found it provocatively risqué, and by the time I reached her I was already half-erect.

Her eyes were closed, and I did not announce myself as I crept up quietly next to her - thus, I had long seconds to drink in the beauty of her form before she sensed my presence and looked at me. "Daddy!" she cried delightedly, and then frowned, her hand flying to her mouth in half-serious chagrin. "Oops."

I chuckled softly, forcing my gaze to her face. "That's all right, sweetie. Nobody's particularly close by, and I don't think they'd much care if they realized, anyway."

"Hmph," she sniffed theatrically. "Mere practical concerns. As a consummate actress, I am committed to my role."

"Oh, you're an actress now?" I teased her gently as I sat down against the umbrella pole, and as she sat up on the blanket. "I thought you were still an artist. It's hard to keep track."

She struck me lightly on the shoulder in retribution. "You should know. You saw my last play. I think you said it was the finest performance of the daughter of Antiochus you had ever seen."

"Yes, of course, how silly of me." She'd had a bit part in some obscure play of Shakespeare's her school had put on. I had, in fact, thought that she'd said her single line rather well. "I apologize abjectly. Are you enjoying yourself, then?" I changed the subject.

"Oh, it's beautiful here," she affirmed. "The weather's wonderful, and the water's just a perfect shade of blue. I should really be cross at you for not taking me before."

"But I did!" I protested, surprised.

"What?" Emily raised an eyebrow at me dubiously. "No, you didn't. When?"

"A while ago, with your mom. We spent two weeks here on vacation. You would have been..." I thought back over the years. "Ah, I guess you would have been two or three, actually. That's quite a while ago."

Emily snorted daintily. "I'll say. That hardly counts. I don't really remember anything from before I was five." Silence reigned for a few seconds as she looked out over the water, then she returned her gaze to my eyes. "What about you? How are you liking your leadership training, or whatever it's supposed to be?"

"It's pretty dull stuff," I spoke parallel to the truth. "Hard to concentrate on, honestly. I keep wishing I were out here enjoying the scenery with you."

She melted at this. "Aww. Well, you're here now." A smirk broke irrepressibly onto her face, and she picked up a small yellow bottle from beside her on the sand. "Good thing, too. I need someone to put sunscreen on my back."

"Oh, I see." It was my turn to pretend at being offended, as I took the bottle from her. "You just want me here because I'm useful to you."

"Exactly," she agreed, flipping over to lay face-down on the towel. "Now get to work, cuddlebear."

"Cuddlebear?" I demanded incredulously, squeezing a few dollops of the greasy white liquid upon the flawless expanse of her back. "You can't be serious."

"Sure I can." I could hear her amused smile. "Now that we're married, I need to have a pet name for you, after all."

"Well, that one's grounds for an annulment," I groused playfully as my hands rubbed in widening circles around her shoulder blades, gliding smoothly across warm skin made slick by the lotion. "You'd better try again."

"Hmm..." She paused thoughtfully, and I couldn't resist tickling under her arms, delighting as she squirmed. "Quit that! How about 'cookienutter?'"

"That's even worse," I groaned. "I mean, 'nutter?' Are you trying to suggest I'm crazy?" Dropping lower, my hands slid briefly beneath the bikini strap in the middle of her back. I might have just skipped over it, but I wanted to be thorough.

"Maybe." Emily giggled. "What about 'Mark?'"

I paused a moment, answered dubiously "It's not the most creative pet name I've ever heard."

"Well, I like it." She sniffed delicately. "You should give it a chance. Mark."

In fact, there was something about the way she said my name that made it sound faintly exotic. A beginning like her satisfied hums, which I was finding terribly compelling; an ending of soft exhalation, like a pleasured sigh. Mmmar-kuh. I know some men fetishize the word 'daddy,' and I was aware of the irony in the fact that I was finding my given name a turn-on instead, coming from her lips. "It's funny," I said reflectively as I massaged at her lower back, working the sunscreen into her skin. "I don't think I can ever remember you calling me that before."

"It's not that funny," she murmured back. There was a throaty little rumble of pleasure in her voice - evidently she was enjoying the massage. "I mean, I've never really had any reason to call you anything but 'daddy.'" I didn't have a response to that, so I just kept stroking at her back. It was already well-covered in suntan lotion by now, but I didn't want to release her just yet, and slid around to her sides in a naked bid to prolong the experience. I was silently thrilled when she suddenly added, "Don't forget my legs."

"Oh, honey, you can get your own legs," I protested insincerely, already moving to sit on the towel just between her knees, which she spread apart to accommodate my presence.

"I could," she agreed coquettishly, "but why should I go to the trouble, when I have you here to take care of me?"