Polinka Goes on Holiday
Copyright© 2026 by Clee Hill
Chapter 10
Polinka smiled. For a moment, caught between sleeping and waking, she thought she was remembering or dreaming of Alison, cupping her little tiddie in the palm of her hand. Until yesterday morning nobody had ever touched her like that, and the memory was precious as gold, the dream as sweet as honey. Sighing, she began to wake a little more, remembering Alison was back in Wales and she was now in Ireland.
In the campervan.
And the hand that held her was not Alison’s but her father’s.
Probably.
Still a little dullish with sleep and needing to confirm where she was and who she was in bed with, Polinka carefully opened her eyes - afraid even that small act could wake them - and peered down. Sure enough, as they had slept she had rolled onto her side, probably the heat, it already being more than just warm even though she could feel it was still early. Now facing the passenger side doors, at some point during the night her father had rolled over and snuggled up behind her, his arm around her waist, his left hand cupping her tiddie. Oh yes, and his knob nuzzling between the cheeks of her bum. Again.
Polinka smiled.
Yesterday and all the other mornings when she had felt that, she had panicked, worried it might ‘mean’ something even though she had been sure it didn’t. Today she knew it didn’t. She had no interest in it or any other knobs, they being the answer to a question she suspected she might now never ask. Moreover, knowing her father, knowing his intentions - or lack of them - meant she also knew it meant nothing other than being a simple consequence of their anatomies and their sharing a bed. She had heard from others at school how they might sometimes notice their father noticing them in ways they shouldn’t, but Stephen had never been like that, couldn’t be like that, she suspected, and so to feel him no longer worried her at all other than how he might feel he should be worried.
No, all she felt, her tiddie in his hand and his knob between her cheeks was his love and protection. There wasn’t a shred of anything sexual to it.
For a moment, lying there in the warmth of the strengthening sun and the glow of their love she even considered snuggling back against him, to feel more of his tummy on her back, his arm pressing against her, and even his knob burrowing its unconscious way into the cleavage of her bum, but she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk her father waking and panicking, worried what she might think. She knew, with enough repetitions of ‘no Dad, really, I get it’ she could calm him down, eventually, but she didn’t want to put him through that, just so she could feel more of what she could already feel anyway.
No, it was time for her to get them out of it and so, closing her eyes to mimic sleepiness if she needed to, not that she would be faking too hard, her thoughts still feeling sluggish and languid, she gently rolled herself over, rotating under his arm until she was facing him, his arm still draped over her, unmoved, though she could hear his breathing beginning to quicken, the sensations slowly drawing him up from his sleep. Deciding to preempt anything that might need preempting, she snuggled up to him, the light fuzz of the hair on his tummy tickling her own tummy as she kissed him on the forehead, smiling as she was rewarded with him opening his eyes, seeing her, and smiling.
“Morning, Biscuit.”
“Hey, Dad,” she smiled, following up with another kiss, this time to his lips, soft and loving and different from Alison; not better, not worse, just different, as they should be.
“We moved again?”
“Kinda hot in here, even with all the windows cracked.”
“I know. I don’t know what else we can do.”
Polinka smiled. “Nicky will look after us.”
“I’m sure she will. At least we don’t need to worry about taking care of breakfast this morning.”
“Says a man with a plan?” she smiled.
“Big one. It’s most of why we’re in Ireland this week.”
“Ooh. Sounds mysterious.”
Stephen smiled. “Well, once we’ve do the ‘Trowel Run’—”
“—Eww!” Polinka giggled.
“—And changed, we can get going and find something to eat at the hotel. I booked us in for a breakfast at 9am but they said we can arrive early if we want. It’s only an all you can eat buffet—”
“—Wait?! Hotel? Trencherman’s Heaven?” she asked, the latter being the nickname she had given to all you can eat buffets of any kind in honour of learning the word ‘trencherman’.
“Well you do only get Trencherman’s at either hotels or restaurants, and this hotel will be handy.”
“Oh will it? And what might it be handy for?”
“The rest of the day. We have all day tickets to a conference.”
“Huh? You found us a work thing—”
“—No, no, Biscuit, nothing like that. If I have remembered the title correctly, it is the Southern Ireland Unidentified Phenomena Symposium, 2025.”
Polinka took a moment to parse what he had said, blinked, and grinned, wide eyed. “We’re going to a flying saucer conference??”
“We are.”
“Dad?! That’s ... that’s ... that’s perfect,” she said, crushing herself to him as she kissed him. “You’ve booked us in to a conference?”
“An all day conference. Three rooms for speakers. Presentations every other hour, staring at eleven and running through to six. And there is an additional room for books, magazines, and whatever else they sell at these kinds of things. They’re planning for a couple of hundred people so it might get a little busy.”
“Dad that’s ... that’s amazing!”
“And, afterwards, if you want, we can stay at the hotel for the night, or we can drive off in Nicky, whichever you prefer.”
“Nicky,” she answered, at once and without hesitation.
“You seem very certain?”
“Yep, because I am, because ... Dad? I know we won’t do it when we get back, but I, I really love this, sleeping with you. It feels ... I don’t know. Cherished. Loved. It’s, it’s kind of filling something I didn’t know I was missing and I’m not even sure what it is, but please can we sleep together in Nicky, tonight and the rest of the holiday.”
“Of course,” he smiled, hesitating a moment as he came to a decision. “And if you want to sleep with me occasionally after we get back...?”
“Really?!” Polinka whispered, not quite believing what she was hearing.
“It’s not like you snore or anything.”
“Dad!” she giggled. “For that, I’m going to kiss you,” she smirked, doing just that and pretending not to notice as Stephen moved around a little so that a little less of him was touching her. “Now. I need to go find a bush.”
“What an excellent idea,” he winked.
“Says the man full of his own excellent ideas. A proper flying saucer conference in Ireland? I’ve never been to one before,” she said, her other ‘conferences’ having been small affairs in church halls across Shropshire and Herefordshire; not even in Wales.
“I know,” Stephen smiled as she rolled her eyes at her own excited silliness. “It should be interesting.”
“Yeah!”
“And if not, we can always jump into Nicky and head off for the night. I’ve a couple of ‘alternatives’ for the night where we can arrive early, play cards, drink tea, what have you.”
“You’re amazing. You do know that, right? All this planning and organising? You’re amazing, Dad. I love you,” she said, kissing him once more. “Er, okay if I don’t dress to go pee?”
“As long as we’re alone, I think so.”
“Cool,” she grinned as she edged out of the bed first, not noticing how her top gave her father a little more of a view of her tiddies as she did, Stephen turning away to attend to something as she got the van doors open, grabbed her tissues and a bag, and headed off, Stephen following a couple of moments later, watching where she went and making sure he was close but out of sight.
As soon as she was out of the door and out of earshot, Polinka paused her grinning to sigh in relief. Another morning she had gotten away with it. And more to come. And more when they got back home. Which was great but which was also a problem. She was riding her luck, she knew, and it was only a matter of time before it ran out. Yes, she was more confident than ever that it would be ‘all right’, but she didn’t want to go through the process between now and then. More importantly, she didn’t want to put her father through it either. She had to do something, but as she pulled down her shorts, squatted down, and didn’t listen, she had no idea what.
Or didn’t she?
Or did she?
If this was going to continue, maybe for a long time to come once they got home - and she desperately wanted it to, already guessing that being in bed with her father would never be the same as with another woman; different but not the same; and she wanted both! - she had to figure out how to confront things. Better yet, she needed to figure out how to do it before they got back. That way, if things didn’t go how she wanted, they could pretend it was a ‘holiday’ thing and not let it affect them too much, just be, haha, something to laugh over. One day.
What to do though?
She’d already decided that feigning sleep and letting her father wake and discover how they had cuddled up might not be the best, so she had to be the one to wake, but then what? Put her hand on his, let that wake him, let him find her holding him to her? Maybe, but it felt a little manipulative, as if she were puppeting him to touch her that kind of way, and that just wasn’t her. Sure she could daddy with the best of them, but she didn’t. There was no way she was going to start now.
What else was there? A fake dream? Eww no, not only was that so cliché it almost physically hurt, but she didn’t really have a history of dreaming aloud, so again, starting now would be a bit of a clue to there being something else going on.
Polinka sighed. So much to do, and all she had succeeded in doing was emptying her bladder. Patting herself dry and packing the wet wipes into a nappy sack, she sauntered back to the van, finding the door open and her father waiting. “Sorry. Too much tea last night,” she smirked.
“That’s okay. I used the time to put the bed away.”
“Cool. So what should I wear today? You’ve done all the research, so what do people wear to go to a ‘UFO Conference’?” she asked, making the title sound as important as she comically could.
Stephen laughed. “Funny thing, there are actually a couple of answers to that question. For most people it’s anything from smart to casual, but there are also those who sometimes just show up ‘in costume’, even if there is no ‘cosplay’ panel or competition.”
“Really? How?”
“Lots of fake alien heads and jumpsuits.”
“Oh my God. No? Really?”
“I’ll show you the photos I found when we get to the hotel if you want.”
“Please? I can’t believe people would do that.”
“People do a lot of things, Biscuit.”
“Yeah, but the best is snuggling their daddy,” she grinned, her mood returning from her peed away funk of indecision as they embraced and kissed, the door open to the world, the world just busy with other things and not really all that interested. “Okay. Well. Thank you for that, now, haha, off you go so I can get dressed,” she grinned, letting him go to wave at the door.
“Don’t take too long?” he suggested. “Last night’s sandwiches were a long time ago.”
“Men and their stomachs,” she joked, Stephen shaking his head as he stepped outside, closing the doors for her, Polinka already inside her suitcase. Smart, or not, or cosplay, and all in a hotel where there would be other people to think about, where it might or might not be air conditioned, where they would be having something to eat, teas, and possibly until the evening. Did he even know how complicated a set of conditions that was? Chuckling to herself over the answer absolutely being ‘no’, she pulled off her sleeping two piece, pulled on a pair of low waisted boyshorts in a blue that was also purple and had delicate trim of stylised embroidered flowers. Though she had worn them to school a couple of times, mostly when she needed cheering up and also because the matching bra just looked so good she couldn’t say ‘no’ to them sometimes, they were mostly for weekends, and, now, holidays. To go with it and kind of but not really match the colours she went for her blue two piece set of a mini-ish skirt and a very wide bandeau-cum-crop, both wonderfully ruffled and patterned with flower heads which she always thought more like petals blown in the wind, small, irregular, but making her smile. Quickly making sure her top was not too tight, both because of the promised heat and also she didn’t want people staring at her tiddies, she called out, “Dad? What do you think?”
By the time the doors were open, she was standing, striking a pose, and pouting like it was the Olympics.
“Very pretty,” Stephen smiled. “And your outfit.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she grinned, loving his compliments, knowing he never said anything he didn’t mean, so if he said she was pretty, then she really was pretty. “Your turn.”
“So it is, and I’ve a high bar to meet,” he winked as they swapped places, she closed the doors, and to give him a little space, it felt like, she wandered off, looking around, seeing how pretty is was there, lush even after so many weeks without a lot of rain - she’d checked, once she’d known where they were! - and with bright blue skies above, not yet bleached by the sun as they would be later in the day.
“Polinka!” came the muffled, then less muffled cry as the doors on the side of the van opened and Stephen stepped out, looking the wrong side first, smiling as he saw her hurting towards him. “What do you think?” he asked, pouting and posing for her and making her giggle.
“Don’t give up the day job, Dad,” she smirked, her father being in a pair of creased slate coloured cotton trousers, a white tee-shirt, and a half-open long-sleeved shirt in pale mint. “But kinda hunky, you know, in a Dad kinda way.”
“And what way is that, exactly?”
“Like you’re ten years too old to be trying but you somehow carry it off. At least you’re not like that man on holiday last year,” she winced, that being a summer holiday in a small resort in northern Italy where, every morning, one of the holidaymakers, a man in his seventies at least, did a couple of dozen laps in the pool, and wearing the most excruciating pair of bright red Speedos that nobody had the right to wear. Though Polinka had never seen a man’s knob, she knew that man had been circumcised; you could probably tell from the ISS.
“Thank you. I think,” he smiled. “Ready to go?”
“Think so,” she smiled as they closed up, packed up, and headed off, windows wide open, not even bothering to tax Nicky by asking her to pump any more hot air in, instead letting the buffeting breeze do its thing until they got to the hotel where Stephen popped in a moment, coming back with parking arranged for the day, lunch too, and breakfast awaiting them to descend up on it.
“Okay I’ll go brush and, haha, get the dust out of my hair?” Polinka asked as they parked, checked the windows were open enough but not too much, and locked up, her brush and purse in the canvas tote back over her shoulder; Stephen had said a room where people sold things, and that would have to mean books. Quickly she headed to the Ladies’ where she took care of what needed to be and brushed her hair into something a million times smarter than it had been when she had got out of the van before heading back out again.
“Ah. There you are. I think we both look a little tidier, now, heh?” he said, his own windswept ‘bouf’ now combed back into the normality.
“You got your Brendan Fraser on,” she teased, taking his arm as they headed for the restaurant.
“With whom the only thing I have in common is a centre parting.”
“Good enough for me. You know how much I love The Mummy ... Oh God. It’s me,” she began to giggle.
“Biscuit?”
“Don’t you know the meme? The Mummy is gay panic for everyone! There’s someone in there for every point on the compass, and I was watching it, not knowing I was gay. Oh my God, I’ve been ‘Mummied’,” she laughed. “Wait? Who’s your ‘panic’ over?”
“Nobody.”
“Huh? Nobody? Not even Imhotep, all loin clothed and greased up, haha.”
“Patricia Velásquez.”
“The evil woman in body paint?” she gasped.
“I can fix her,” Stephen winked.
”Oh my God! I’m, I’m never going to able to watch that again and not think of ... that.”
“So who is your ‘panic crush’ then?”
“What, I can’t have them all?”
“If you want.”
“Wow, you really are going all in with the whole ‘permissive’ thing, huh?” she joked, dropping her voice as others came in, sniggering as she glanced over at them. “I guess Rachel’s okay in a bookish kind of ditzy way...”
“Except?”
Polinka sighed. “I kinda need to cheat.”
“How?”
“My ‘panic crush’ isn’t from The Mummy. Not really. It’s Kelly Hu, from The Scorpion King, but I can’t tell you why.”
“Why not?”
“Dad? She’s like my ‘I didn’t know I was gay’ gay crush and, uhm, it’s kind of a bit of a ‘thing’ and—”
“—I don’t need to know,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.
“It’s not in the film. It’s one of those shots they put in the trailer, then cut later. She’s coming out of a fountain or something, and she’s nude but you can’t see anything because her wet hair is so long it covers her tiddies. It always made me feel, haha, ‘funny’, and now I know why. I wanted to give her a bloody good towelling,” she giggled, blushing at the same time.
Stephen shook his head. “Can’t say I can remember it. Maybe show me on your phone later?” he winked, Polinka’s eyes wide is shock as they got to the serious business of breakfast.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Polinka grinned, holding Stephen’s hand, as they headed inside, their monies paid, their tickets handed over, and their first port of call to be be to see which ‘lectures’ as they called them they might like to attend. She. They weren’t here for Stephen, even though she would make sure whatever they attended wasn’t too far out there for him to have to sit through.
“So? Anything take your fancy?” he asked as they looked at the small screen, projected onto the wall, showing a selection of entries on a PowerPoint slide.
“Lots, haha.”
“And to sign up for?”
“Oh. Er, give me a moment?” she asked, her excitement now replaced by serious scrutiny as she tried to recognise any of the names, dismissing the obviously uninteresting for her, the too wacky for Dad, and finally coming to some decisions. “Okay then. 11am Ireland and the Draw of Folklore for Visitors. Sounds like a tourist thing ... but I guess they think it is. 1pm and that one, Unreported Abductions; I guess they mean unreported officially. Ooh! There’s that one at 2pm all about Die Glocke. Now that’s some weirdness. Nazi flying saucers, like in that film but, haha, ‘real’. Wonder if they’ll mention Maria Austish?”
“Who was she?”
Polinka grinned. “Oh Dad, that is a can of worms inside another can of worms. In fact, it’s cans of worms all the way down. Let’s see. Okay. She was an Austrian psychic who claimed to receive messages from, I promise, from Aldebaran, you know, like in Star Wars. Anyway, she claimed they sent her the details of how to make a flying saucer, and since this was Nazi Germany they are supposed to have made some, and that’s when it gets really weird. A load of, erm, nonsense,” she smirked, not swearing. “But it’s hella entertaining stuff. There’s even a ‘video’ on YouTube of her escaping Berlin at the end of the war ... in a flying saucer. Love it!”
“Sounds fun,” Stephen smiled, her enthusiasm and scepticism wonderful to see.
“Cool. We’ll see. Might even find one of the bonkers books here too. Oh, and we can finish on that one at 4pm, Why Are They Still Hiding. The mystery of the continuing lack of official contact with world governments. I mean, they’re not wrong. Why don’t they just land in front of the White House or something? That okay? Anything catch your eye?”
Stephen smiled. “Not really, Biscuit. We’re here for you, remember?”
“I know but, you know, there might be something you’re interested in. Don’t think there’s any ‘cosplay’ here but you never know ... there might be an alien amongst us,” she chuckled. “Plus that leaves us with plenty of time for lunch and to check out the hall where they’re selling stuff. You think Nicky would like a UFO deodoriser?”
“They make such a thing?”
Polinka shrugged. “One way to find out. Between the, er, speakers?”
“Speakers is as good a name as any,” Stephen smiled. “Do you want to get to Room B early?” he asked, that being where their first speaker would be.
“Can we go look at the books first, first pass kind of thing?”
“Of course,” he said, Polinka taking his hand as they walked into the ‘Media Room’ where a good number of tables were set around the edge and as a horseshoe in the middle, the tables covered with books, videos (!), DVDs, Blu Rays, and even some models of various flying saucers, some in kit form, some pre-formed, probably 3d printed, and a couple even in little dioramas.
“Podcast?” asked a young woman in her twenties, dressed in black jeans, a black tee-shirt with ‘I believe’ superimposed on a grainy photograph of a flying saucer near some hills in the middle of nowhere, and with the most unusual makeup Polinka had ever seen, a strange combination of bold colours and blocky geometric shapes on her cheeks and cheekbones as well as over her eyebrows.
“I don’t, thanks,” Polinka declined.
“Oh? They got you?” the woman smiled, still holding her little business card with a simple web address on an ivory background.
“Who?”
“They? Them? They’re all the same, really.”
“Are they?”
“You should take a listen. I talk all about it. Also makeup tips.”
“About that...”
“It’s so they can’t see me.”
“Who can’t?”
“Them. Doesn’t matter who. Any of them. All of them.”
“But I can see you...”
“Yeah, but not really.”
“No, you’re right there, trying to get me to listen to your podcast,” Polinka smiled.
“Yeah, but the cameras in here? Your phone camera? They can’t see me. They feed my face into their software and it can’t see me.”
“Or you could wear a mask?”
The woman shrugged. “Not so easy to go shopping in a full face mask. So? Give it a go? It’s free.”
Polinka smiled. “And you do do makeup tips?”
“For real or pulling my leg?”
“For real. Be kind fun, if Dad would ever let me—”
“—Which he wouldn’t,” Stephen smiled. “Very 1970s though.”
The woman sighed. “And another is lost to our alien observers.”
Polinka winked. “Maybe I’ll take a listen,” she said, taking the woman’s card.
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