Polinka Goes on Holiday
Copyright© 2026 by Clee Hill
Chapter 8
Polinka may have been innocent in terms of things she had done, or rather the things she had not done, but they did not meant she was ignorant about the Ways of The Birds and The Bees. She had had her ‘sexuality and relationships’ classes with Mrs. Dykemann and learned not only the mechanics but at least some of what it might or might not mean, and especially how many of the body’s functions and operations were subject to little conscious control if any at all, sometimes even without the knowledge of the person involved.
Case in point, excuse the pun, her father.
As Polinka had slowly woken up, still early, it felt, but bright and already rather warm inside Nicky, she was not all that surprised to discover that sometime during the night they had moved, her slip had moved, and her tummy was bare, save for the gloriously comforting feeling of her father’s hand as he lay behind her, her belly button ‘protected’ from prying eyes by the palm of his hand. That part was wonderful and she wished it could continue a little longer, but she knew it couldn’t.
Why?
That extra cup of tea last night - decaf, because it was late - had had an effect on them both, but the effect on her father was somewhat more urgent. Although Polinka knew about ‘morning wood’ or ‘morning glory’ she hadn’t really believed it was true. Now, however, she was an abruptly devout believer as she could feel not only her father’s knob against her, but how this morning it was hard and not only nuzzling up against her bum but, and she smirked as she thought this, somehow making its way in between her cheeks, and though it was ‘pointing down’ it was also perilously close to places she had never imagined she would ever feel it.
Which, if he knew, would absolutely devastate her father.
Yes, he had been there for her every time she needed him to be, helping her through the little dramas of puberty, and yes, she had felt his love for her growing and deepening every time, but he had also been very careful about being respectful and ‘proper’ around her. Waking up to discover his hard knob was perilously close to the entrance of her vagina would probably go badly. Very badly.
Polinka’s dilemma was how to get out of their predicament without him ever knowing he had even been in it, and do it in such a way as to not let on. And without any more ‘sneezes’ or ‘cramps’ to get her out of there in a hurry.
Time to fall out of bed, she decided, rolling her eyes at the antics she was having to invent as she rolled herself away from her father, rolling towards the passenger side doors, his hand almost tickling as it rubbed over her ribs—
“—Oof,” she gasped as she genuinely fell over the edge, catching herself on her hands and knees as she peered back up over the edge of the bed just in time to see her father wake, looking very confused. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Tried to slip out and, haha, slipped off. Gotta go pee,” she whispered, her father nodding sluggishly as he realised what had happened. Swiftly grabbing her things, Polinka, unlocked the door, and with a little embarrassed wave she was gone, heading for a hastily close bush where she did her thing.
This is getting ridiculous, she thought to herself as she concentrated on not listening to the sounds she was making. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed or anything like that, especially as there were only birds and insects for company, it was just the whole idea of listening to herself peeing seemed a little, well, silly. Much more important was what to do about her father. It was clear he was a ‘hugger’ in his sleep, and she loved that and loved how it made her feel so safe and precious in his arms, but it was just Friday, and they had another week or more of nights together for her to navigate. so far she was getting away with it, but she knew her luck was stretching thinner and thinner, and at some time it would run out, and she did not want to be dealing with that, did not want anything to change how her father behaved around her and toward her. She was, she knew, a little more physical with Stephen than her few friends were towards their fathers, the consensus being that dads were fine and good and stuff, but not someone you get close to the way Polinka did. They had good relationships with their fathers, but she felt hers was closer and deeper and, unfair as it was to compare them in such a way, but better. And she didn’t want anything to change that unless, somehow, it was ‘more’.
It didn’t help that last night had been hot, and according to the feed on her phone, the coming week was just going to keep on getting hotter, with night time temperatures getting places they had no business being. She already knew she pretty much had to swap into her new pyjama set for tonight, her lovely blue satin cami set definitely needing to spend some quality time inside a washing machine with the floweriest washing powder they could find. On the one hand, cool, because that meant she could were her browny purpley two piece set, with the wonderfully loose looking shorts, and the wonderfully for her loose cropped top ... which might not be so wonderful if her father were to hold her tiddie in the middle of the night because it might be her tiddie he would be holding. She didn’t mind that because she knew it meant nothing more than he was holding her in her sleep, not trying to give her tiddies a feel or anything icky like that, but if she was worrying about him finding himself holding her through her top, Stephen discovering himself holding her under her top was going to be a whole mess of worse.
Sighing and shaking her head, she patted herself dry, packed up her tissues, and dropped them in the rubbish bin at the opposite end of the lay-by where they had parked before she went and knocked on the van door. “Dad? Okay to come in?”
“Minute.”
“‘Kay,” Polinka called back, amused that her father was Schrodingering it, neither dressed nor undressed, the degree of dress unknown until the door opened.
“Hi. I sorted the bed away,” he said as he opened the door and stepped outside, stretching the knots out.
“And dressed.”
“Busy day.”
“Is it?”
Stephen smiled.
“Ooh! I thought you were over that kind of thing,” she glowered, fooling nobody. She loved how much time and thought he was putting into her, and loved how she could see how much he loved it too. She wasn’t spoiled by any means, and she was very careful how she used the wheedling ‘Daddy’, which is to say rarely if ever, but she knew how much her father liked to indulge her when he could, and it seemed like he had been saving a lot of indulgences for this two weeks together. Which is why she forgave him. That and she just loved him.
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You mean there’s more?”
Stephen smiled agin.
“Ooo! Come her and let me kiss you,” she said, laughing at his double-take at her switching from complaint to love as she went up on her tip-toes and hugged herself to him, kissing him as lovingly and tenderly as she could.
“What’s that for?” he asked as they parted.
“Oh, you know, the whole ‘love you’ thing,” she smiled. “So let me get changed and then breakfast?”
“Can you hold out a little while longer?”
“Depends what for?”
“Full Welsh at Saundersfoot.”
“What’s there?”
“Just breakfast.”
“So lunch will be?”
“Tenby, if you want to face the crowds.”
“And if I don’t, not really. You do know it will be packed, right?”
“I thought you might enjoy a dip in the sea.”
Polinka laughed. “No thanks. I’ve read the stories of what’s in the sea.”
“Ah. Well then, we might find a supermarket for a couple of things in Tenby and then we can go to where we’re going to be spending tonight.”
“Which is?”
Stephen smiled.
“Grr!” Polinka escalated. “Okay, I know you’ve planned this like I don’t know what, so I trust you, but still... ooh.”
Stephen chuckled. “Full Welsh to start the day?”
“Oh go on then, just not a full Full Welsh,” she said, kissing him once more as he headed off and she headed inside, closing the door, checking the curtains, and stripping in no time flat. So, going out but going somewhere? Flipping open the lid of her case and moving the bag of ‘wash me’ things out of the way, there was a flash of red and Polinka grinned. Her former favourite bikini, bright cherry red, the panties being slightly low rise boy shorts from a different bikini that she had bought separately, and a carefully colour matched bra with lacing at the front though she had nothing but breastbone there, but which also had ruffles coming down from the tops of the cups to help disguise there really wasn’t much to disguise. Pulling them on she looked at her giant brown paisley scarf that had worked so well yesterday, sighed, and began to smile as a lightbulb came on over the top of her head. Quickly getting into her bra, she only just had enough time to wrap the scarf around her waist when there was a knock on the door.
“Biscuit?”
“No, you said Full Welsh,” she laughed, opening the door to her father who saw her and grinned.
“Coverup?”
“No, sir. This is a sarong skirt, a ‘sarong lite’ if you like, haha. It’s not really long enough for a proper sarong, but I think it’s okay,” she said, turning so he could see how it looked.
“Very classy.”
“Thanks. Not so bad yourself,” she winked, Stephen being in another pair of shorts with sharp creases, these a little less formal than most he owned, and with which he had put on a dullish green linen shirt, also creased but casually, not ‘for the office’.
“Thank you. Shall we?” he said as they put the van back in order, climbed into the front, gasped as the heat that had built up already, and wound down the windows as Stephen eased them off their spot in the lay-by and headed them for Saundersfoot.
“There?” Polinka asked a little while later, pointing to a café proclaiming a ‘Full English’. It was just at the end of the pier, with plenty of parking at that time of the morning.
“Sure?”
“Can we go look at the boats after? If we’ve got time.”
“We can and we have. We don’t need to be on ... I mean at our destination until later in the afternoon.”
“Oh? And on?”
“On time. I meant on time.”
“Dad? You know you’re not fooling me, right?”
“I know, but I was trying to distract you with my abundant humour.”
“Ah. I see. Well, consider me distracted. Ooh! Seagull!” she giggled as they parked up, locked up, and headed inside.
“Morning,” said the man behind the counter. He was dressed in a white apron over jeans and a blue checked shirt, but more importantly he looked like the kind of man who should be serving ‘Full English’ breakfasts and had probably had one every day since he had been weened. Not fat, but certainly substantial, and jovial too. Though Polinka’s bikini bra might have had something to do with that.
“Morning. Full breakfasts for two?”
“Right you are. Drinks?”
“Teas?”
“Good choice. Can’t abide that coffee stuff myself, but don’t tell my wife; she lives for her Nescafé of a morning. Bread and butter’s free, two slices each. White or brown?”
“White,” Polinka said, sounding offended to have been asked. “Brown’s for healthy people, and this, haha, this isn’t where they come I bet.”
“No they don’t, Miss. Right then, find yourselves a couple of seats and I’ll bring your drinks along in a bit,” he said, Stephen and Polinka taking a window seat so she could see the masted ships as their tea came in good time, a ‘two cups each’ pot which was followed by their breakfasts, something of everything but not too much and not on a ‘gut buster’ plate either; it was good food, not lots of food.
“Cheers,” Polinka grinned, holding her cup in salute as their meal arrived, after which nobody had time to talk as they got on with the serious business of working their way down to the pattern on the plate.
“I think that should tide us over until ... later,” Stephen said, clearly owning his slip and having fun with it.
“So do we need to get anything while we’re here?”
“No. We can do that later.”
“Oh? Is this ‘later’ in any way connected with the Thing Dad Nearly Said?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” he smiled.
“Yeah, Dad. Sure. So...?”
“Boats?” he said, glancing at where her camera sat preciously on one of the other chairs at their table.
Polinka grinned. “I won’t take too long, I promise.”
“I know. Just as long as it takes to look at every boat,” he winked.
“You have to be thorough, Dad, you never know what you’ll see.”
“Boats?”
Polinka rolled her eyes. “For that, you get to pay,” she grinned as she took out her purse and slid a fiver in his direction.
“Oh thank God. I thought I was going to have to donate you to washing up duties.”
“Yeah, me in this outfit and his wife wired up on Nescafé? See that going well,” she smirked.
“Come on, let’s see what’s in and out,” he said as he paid and they headed for the quay, camera already powering up.
“God I’m glad we’re not staying there,” Polinka said later that lunchtime as they got back into the van and headed out, Tenby a crowded memory of pink and red holidaymakers interspersed with harried and weary locals.
“You didn’t want to be a model then?” he teased, a middle aged man claiming he wanted a photo of Nicky and saying he ‘wouldn’t mind’ if Polinka was in shot too.
“No. Eww. I mean, come on, Dad. Me? I’m not tall enough, not, ahem, chesty enough, and definitely not showing anything to anyone.”
Stephen shook his head.
“What? I’m not.”
“No, no, I believe you, Biscuit, it’s just ... Well, let’s just say I hear things from my co-workers about how the teens in their lives behave, the things they get up to, and then I come home to you, someone with some very clear ideas about who she is, very definite principles, and no interest in compromising any of that for the sake of anyone else’s opinion.”
“Er, thanks?” she asked, comically exaggerating her uncertainty.
“You are very welcome, Polinka. Compared to some of the things I hear, you have been, well, not to put too fine a point on it and excuse the slight pun, a model daughter.”
“Cool. So that mean I’ve got some stuff I can do and not get in trouble for?”
“It depends. Do you have something in mind?”
“No, but I can Google it,” she giggled.
“Which, to make my point, we both know you would not do.”
Polinka winked as she took out her phone, miming tapping the screen as she spoke aloud, asking, “How can a teenage daughter best rebel?”
Not realising what she was doing, her phone promptly responded in monotone. “There are many ways in which a teenaged daughter can rebel. Drinking. Smoking. Sex. Would you like details?”
“What?! No! No!” Polinka panicked, hurriedly unlocking her screen and switching the ‘assistant’ off, all the same time as her father was laughing. “Sorry. I didn’t think it was on. Must have been the last update.”
“It’s okay. It was worth it,” he said, still chuckling.
“Yeah. For you. I mean. Drinking? Yuck. Smoking? Eww! Sex? Er, no. I guess it’s just cheating at chess.”
“When did you last play chess?” Stephen asked.
“Don’t remember, but I might have cheated so, haha, that’s me, the chess cheating rebel,” she grinned.
“Well in that case, I need you to close your eyes for about five minutes, please.”
“Okay,” Polinka said, doing exactly that.
“Simple as that?” Stephen asked, sounding a little surprised.
“Yep. Simple as that. Dad, you’ve already gone to a lot of trouble, it’s clear tonight is somehow part of that, so yeah, I trust you.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and heavy with emotion. “We won’t be long, I promise. I just don’t want you to see the road signs.”
“So. Signs. On the road. With clues I could solve. I see ... or rather, I don’t, haha.”
“Nearly there, don’t worry,” Stephen said as they took a couple more turns, not going fast, not going uphill or down until there was a pause as he very slowly turned them off whatever they were on.
“Are we there yet?” she giggled.
“Almost, but I would prefer if you would keep your eyes shut a little longer, until we are parked and until I help you out.”
“Ooh. Mysteriouser and mysteriouser,” she smirked.
“Not for long, Biscuit,” he said, Nicky taking a slow route to somewhere, taking a couple of small turns, and finally coming to a halt.
“Okay to take my belt off?”
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