CHAPTER 02

CHAPTER 02 :-CRAZY CRUISE TRIP WITH FATHERS

Alana had had enough. One minute sitting in rows of collapsible chairs among the eager crowd of giggling daughters and doting fathers, and she already wanted out.

'Don't be like that.'

She quirked an eyebrow at her dad. 'I'm not like anything.'

'Can you at least give this thing a chance?' Roger sighed. Alana could tell he was nervous, from the way he kept curling the edges of their boarding passes with his thick fingers. 'It's a free vacation. Even if the activities suck, you'll spend a week sipping coconut water on the deck.'

'Should've brought your girlfriend if you wanted a ray of sunshine.'

'Yeah, well, I don't think Sean'd appreciate me bringing Maria to a family retreat.' A few seconds passed, and he spoke with renewed conviction: 'I didn't make you come.'

'It's a free vacation. Like you said. I wasn't gonna say no.'

With Roger working in showbiz, she'd reaped her share of benefits with concert tickets, meet and greets, exclusive merch -- but an all-expenses paid trip on a luxury liner? That was new.

It's not like her dad was a bigshot. He didn't stand out in the stable of writers at work. He'd hit a few home runs early on in his career that had landed him a comfortable contract with Electric, the country's top talent agency, but the well of inspiration dried up with his wife's passing almost a decade ago. He paid the bills, footed all of Alana's tuition, had enough to treat himself -- but there was no reason for Sean Adler to drop this kind of present in his lap.

'I mean, I almost thought your boss was gonna take it back at the last minute, you know? Didn't feel real until we actually got here.'

'He'll be on the trip, too.' Roger scanned the boarding area for the tenth time in as many minutes. 'I don't see him, but he even texted me to make sure I was coming. We were coming.'

'Think he's arranged this so he can let you off your contract in a nice way?'

She saw the minute flinch in his features, the hurt in his blue eyes, and guilt instantly crashed into her like a particularly nasty wave. They'd drifted apart ever since Alana started college last year, when Roger dipped his toe back into the dating pool, and he was used to her snarky comments. But his job was the one constant in his life. It was a low blow.

Before she could even think of apologising, a jingle sounded across the atrium, and the family twosomes headed towards the glass gangway with the assurance of people who'd been through this process a hundred times before. Roger picked up his bag in one hand, Alana's in the other, and gestured with his chin towards the doors, walking away without waiting for her.

When she caught up with him, Roger was staring at the front of the line. At the end of his gaze stood his boss, Sean, checking in with none other than Milly Adler. Only twenty, a few years older than Alana, she'd been Electric's longtime star talent, from her debut on family sitcoms to a critically acclaimed musical career and an explosive feature film role that had all the tabloids gushing at a daring nude scene. She was the sort of girl Alana typically hated, but knowing Roger worked for Sean made her feel they were alike, in some ways. Just the daughters of entertainment industry peons.

Maybe they'd become friends. Alana could sidle up to her at the breakfast buffet, strike up a conversation. The girls at college would be gagged to see her come back from a lame family bonding cruise with Milly Adler 's number!

Well. There'd be time for that. Right now, they were just checking in.

Alana had pictured mammoth cruiseliners from the movies, spanning entire city blocks, but this ship was more reasonable in size. It was too big for its scant hundreds of passengers, but not in a way that made it feel empty, particularly with the lush decor and state-of-the-art facilities. It seemed ripped straight from the pages of some glamorous lifestyle magazine. The pamphlet she picked up as they embarked included a timetable and a map that displayed everything from a gym to a small movie theatre and a host of lectures and classes. Despite herself, as she followed her father down the sleek hallways to their cabin, she felt her excitement begin to grow.

Until she stepped into the room, that is.

The place was luxurious, several steps above any hotel she'd stayed at, with authentic dark wood panels, a roomy bathroom with a jacuzzi, and an enormous bed that felt like a cloud.

That was the problem. The bed, singular.

'So, how quick can you call the front desk?' said Alana, dropping down heavily on the edge of the mattress. It bounced her back almost to a standing position. 'Or whatever they have in a boat.'

Displeasure was painted on Roger's features. She knew he hated causing a fuss -- but fuck that. 'Bed's huge, Allie. I'm pretty sure it's more comfortable than getting two twins and just as private.'

Alana stared at him. Hard. So he let out a long-suffering sigh and headed for the phone near the flat-screen television.

'No point unpacking if they might move us.' Alana bounced on the bed again and used the momentum to get back up, closing the distance to the cabin door while Roger dialled. 'I'm gonna explore. Text me when it's sorted, okay?'

Right before she closed the door, she heard him grunt in acknowledgement, and sauntered off with the pamphlet in hand to learn more about their home for the coming week.

Making her way to the lido deck, Alana passed a number of cabin doors left ajar, through which she glimpsed excitable girls chattering to their fathers about the view, the room service, the big end-of-trip party. It took her a second to realise what was off: everyone she'd seen was stunningly attractive. The girls were supple-skinned, youthful, beaming with vigour. The men kept fit, dressed well, and clearly took pride in not letting themselves go.

Privately, Alana thought she was no slouch either, and she'd always thought Roger was a step above her friends' dads, who seemed to take middle age as an excuse to stop caring about their looks. It had to be a coincidence, but it felt flattering all the same. She fished her phone out of her pocket to text a friend about this discovery, and opened the door to the outdoor pool area with a well-placed swing of the hip.

The smell of the sea hit her.

The pool shone brilliant blue, embedded in a recessed part of the deck, surrounded by vacant deckchairs. Staircases led to an upper area with a viewing platform, where gaggles of girls and father-daughter pairs stood to watch the ship depart. As if on cue, Alana felt the deep tremor shaking the vessel as they started to move, to the delight of the crowds above. The boat was big enough to sail without see-sawing, but Alana had yet to earn her sea legs, and made sure to hold on to the railings when she carefully climbed up to the viewing deck.

The sights were truly special. Even the impressive infrastructure of the port seemed small, more and more like a playset the further away they pulled, into the expanse of the open ocean. Alana couldn't feel herself in the moment, however. Her texts were coming back unsent, and she noted the total lack of signal or WiFi -- which couldn't be right, not on such a high-end trip. She clicked her tongue in frustration, navigating to her phone's settings.

'You won't find a connection.'

Alana glanced at the source of the voice. A gorgeous girl sat on a nearby table, smiling at Alana with a devilish glint in her eye. She looked to be about the same age, and judging by the white bikini peeking out from her tank top and the flimsy pareo around her hips, she'd be headed for the pool in no time.

'When does it come back?'

'It doesn't. No internet or cell reception all trip.'

'What! Is this one of those bullshit 'no screens' rules? Like, "kids these days" and stuff?'

'Duh, have you seen how many dads there are?' the girl laughed. 'Nah, I think it's because of all the big names that come on this cruise. There's just a blanket ban so they can relax without their every move being liveblogged.'

Alana thought back to Milly Adler, and reluctantly agreed that it made sense. She probably would've tried to post an Insta story or two with the singer.

'First time on the cruise?' She grinned. 'You don't have to answer. I know everybody here. Elodie, call me Elle.'

'Alana.' She turned to lean on the tall barrier that protected her from hurtling down into the waves. 'I've never been on any sort of cruise.'

'There's way bigger boats that have all sort of weird shit. Climbing walls, paintball, you name it. This is probably a good way to start out. You aren't overwhelmed, but there's a lot to do.'

'I saw…' she glanced around quickly, as though she were doing anything vaguely conspiratorial, 'I saw Milly Adler boarding, earlier.'

'Yeah, she and Sean come every year. I think they might even do some more like, private winter trips, where it's just the bigshots. Not for us,' said Elodie, cheerful.

'I don't look like a bigshot, then, huh.'

'I don't think bigshots get all respectful and googly about other rich people and celebs.' She shrugged. 'Maybe, though.'

A few people started making their way to the pool, some heading back inside to rest or stretch their legs. Alana wasn't lying -- it really did look nice, and she could tell by the brands some of the passengers sported that the income level was generally pretty high. But…

'Hey, uh, you said there's bigger and better than this, right? So why do people like Milly Adler come on this trip?'

Smaller premises could mean a lower profile, more privacy, especially if this was mainly for Electric industry insiders, but she definitely made enough to rent the biggest ships in the world, several times over. She could take her actual friends and spend a year with a group of ten on a liner with enough space for five thousand.

Elodie grinned, poked Alana's hip with the tip of her ballerina shoe. 'You know why.'

Alana frowned. Did she?

We're sailing on open waters, you don't have to be coy!' Elodie chuckled. Before Alana could respond, she took in a deep breath and flung her head back, shouting, 'Freedom!' at the sky.

'Little miss Braveheart.'

A tall, rugged man made a beeline for them from the stairs, smiling an affectionate half-smile. Undoubtedly Elodie's dad - same bright eyes, same hair colour, even the shapes of their hands were similar -- and his sense of vacation fashion made his fatherhood a certainty. Elodie groaned, affectionately.

'His name's William Wallace, dad. The movie 's Braveheart.'

'I guess I should know that.'

'You should.' She rolled her eyes at Alana. 'He's a movie producer.'

'One of the best,' he said, with a sly grin, as he pulled on one ear of the knot holding Elodie's pareo in place, exposing her bikini bottoms, and casually rubbed his fingertips over the mound of his daughter's pussy.

Alana's eyes turned the size of dinnerplates. There was no arguing with the facts: The older man was brazenly, openly rubbing circles on Elodie's clit. He had to be able to feel it through the thin fabric of the swimsuit -- judging by the look on Elodie's face, she'd have a hard, hot little pebble eager for touch. Eyes half-lidded, biting her lip, legs spreading automatically to encourage access.

Her eyes met Alana's. That wicked glint.

'I have to go,' Alana blurted out. 'Back to my cabin. My dad's -- we need to unpack.'

Elodie's father pressed an affectionate kiss high up on his daughter's cheek, the same kind of kiss any dad might give, and his hand left Elodie's cunt to grasp Alana's in a short, firm handshake.

'I'm Anthony. Tony's fine.' Alana was acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers. They'd been pleasuring his own child not one second ago. 'You look familiar. Your old man work for Adler?'

'Yes,' Alana said, too shocked to resist. 'Roger Ward.'

Tony's face lit up. 'I watched his pilot a couple years back. If I see him around, I'll talk shop. You tell him that, okay, sweetheart?'

With a nod, Alana darted towards the doors, faintly hearing Elodie scold Tony about working on vacation.

The ship didn't list, but she still felt dizzy. Her mind played the same images on loop -- Tony's sinewy hand over his daughter's mound, gently kneading her pussy. There had to be some mistake. They weren't related, couldn't be --

But she had called him 'dad.' Not 'daddy,' nothing Alana could handwave merely as some kind of sugaring relationship or kink. She scrambled for the folded leaflet in her pocket, just in case, but the text went on at length about the virtues of this father-daughter cruise.

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