Chapter 1: A Family Vacation

PAUL

Ten years had elapsed since Janey came into her inheritance. Throughout that decade we did all the things that rich people do. We skied in Gstaad. Actually, Janey did all of the skiing since I never learned and at age fifty-three, I am way too fragile to start. In the meantime, our daughter Hilley, who scorns skiing as an old person’s sport, did half pipes and incredible acrobatic maneuvers on her snowboard. I sat on the terrace and drank, which is one of the few things that I do better than either of them.

We also sunned ourselves on the Riviera and stayed in quaint little villages on the Costa del Sol. We attended the Monaco Grand Prix and every other motor sporting event I could find. I bought a Class40 for the Fastnet Race and Hilley and Janey crewed for me in that and every other regatta on the Mediterranean. A decade passed too quickly, and my darling eight-year-old daughter grew up way too fast for her father’s liking.

Hilley at age eighteen is extraordinary in every way. Her mother is one of the most courageous people I know and Hilley has all of Janey’s spunk and perhaps a little more. Her intelligence has been tested since she was an infant and each time she has scored with the truly gifted. She speaks French, German, Italian, and Schweizer Deutsch, which is her former nanny Ada’s Swiss dialect.

Hilley has done intensive dance training since she was four and she has performed in the chorus in several ballets at La Scala in Milan. At the same time, she was the goalkeeper on Italy’s Olympic women’s team, and she takes no-prisoners on the field. She could have just as easily been in their Olympic gymnastics program. But she enjoys the “team” aspects of soccer and frankly she also likes the ability to occasionally knock other girls down, something that the gymnastic coaches frown on.

Hilley has also grown into her mother’s beauty. Her mother is, and will always be, the love of my life. I know “love at first sight” is such a sad cliché. But when I first saw Janey, I was so overwhelmed by the total package that I wanted to propose marriage on the spot. And we have forged a bond that is totally unbreakable in the ensuing twenty-three years.

Janey’s looks and world class sexuality would be all that most normal women would require to keep a husband on a short leash. But Janey is an exceptional woman in every other aspect of our married life. She is deeply intelligent, level-headed, and honest and courageous, with iron hard ethics. And over time her exceptional looks have just become one more outstanding feature of an extraordinary woman.

Janey at 45 has matured from the 23-year-old hottie I met at Penn. She comes from great wealth, and she was always a blue-blooded preppie princess. But now that she has reached her middle years, she has developed a grace and elegance that, when added to her still potent beauty, has turned her into a truly formidable woman.

Her muscular dancer’s hips have widened a bit and her huge breasts have become even larger. But she has the tiny waist and magnificent legs that she had the day I met her. Her gorgeous face is still perfectly proportioned, and her skin is as smooth as ever. But now there are a few laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, which only serve to emphasize her deep humanity and exceptional sense of humor. And she can still drive the Italian men wild by just walking down the street twitching that truly superlative ass. She knows the effect she has on guys and my absolutely feline soul mate loves every minute of toying with the male of the species, like a cat with a mouse.

Hilley is another matter. At eighteen she is a taller version of her mother. There is probably nobody on either side of Janey’s family tree who DIDN’T come over on the Mayflower. But Janey’s ancestors are the original inhabitants, Britons, rather than Anglo Saxon or Norman stock. The dark hair and dusky skin of the Celt give her an amazingly sultry appearance, especially with her huge cat-like hazel eyes. Our daughter has her mother’s sensual features except she has MY eyes, which are azure blue.

The contrast between the dark complexion and features of her mother and those incredibly vivid blue eyes will make people literally stop and do a double take. I have heard Hilley’s beauty described as “hypnotic”, but also as “intimidating.”

She doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her body, even though she eats like a stevedore. Her legs are longer than her mother’s, but just as heavily muscled and gorgeous. Where her mother might be described as catlike, the best animal to compare Hilley to is the greyhound. She is slimmer than her mother, but she is equally strong.

She has inherited a slightly smaller version of Janey’s exceptionally beautiful, firm, high riding breasts, which fit perfectly on her taller and lither frame. And just like her mother she can drive men wild walking down a street in a pair of short shorts and a tank top with her nubile, perfectly toned and very well-endowed teenage body on display. The difference between Hilley and Janey is that our daughter doesn’t realize the effect that she has on men yet; thank God!

As her father I am aware that my dear little kitten is a mature woman in every physical sense. Of course, all I see when I look at her is the little girl who I have loved to distraction since she took my finger and held it while she cried - ten seconds after she was born. And the thought of her being sexual in any way makes me want to polish up my service revolver.

As a result, I count on my sensible and very smart wife to handle that aspect of our daughter’s development. Janey is the most sexual woman I know. And she has been twisting men around her little finger since well before she was Hilley’s age. So, there is nobody better qualified to manage our daughter’s emerging sexuality. Me? My only purpose in life is to provide unconditional love and the occasional daddy-daughter misadventures that we have always had together. All-in-all it is the best situation in the world.

PAUL

I had purchased a Hylas-70 that was delivered that early spring day in the Port of Barcelona. The Hylas is a big-time racing yacht, and it needs an experienced crew. But the three of us are some of the best and most seasoned sailors in our local circle of ocean racers. And pound for pound Janey and especially Hilley are stronger than any man.

So, I wasn’t worried about being able to sail it to any place we wanted to go, including across the Atlantic if the mood struck us. As it was, I was planning on starting out by sightseeing to places we had never been before.

The Hylas is single masted, schooner-rigged, and it’s a beauty. Every fitting and feature is high-end and below decks is a masterpiece of wood and brass luxury. There is a lounge-galley arrangement with an obscene amount of space for a sailboat; and three full-sized bedrooms for the crew.

The galley itself is abundantly equipped and one of my exceptional daughter’s skills is the ability to prepare haute-cuisine. So, we planned on eating aboard. I might add that neither her mother nor I know how to cook and so the last time we were at sea we spent a lot of time ashore at quaint little village restaurants. We planned to do some of that too, just to explore the local food.

We picked the boat up at the Yacht Marine offices in Barcelona harbor at Marina Port Vell. I had selected one with a royal blue hull instead of the traditional white because I like the solid look that that color imparts. The upper decks and trim were all in white, or mahogany and the aluminum mast was gleaming in the sun.

I was watching Hilley as we came up the quay toward the boat. The minute, she laid eyes on it she got this look of total fascination; like she couldn’t wait to cast off and get going. I recognized it because it was the same look I had on my face. It was a very hot spring day and both Janey and Hilley were in short sailing shorts and wearing relatively modest tank tops. The effect of two women in skimpy outfits, who were as well-endowed as these two, had the Spanish sales guy totally out of his game.

Still, we managed to finalize the paperwork on the quayside without him falling off the dock, while the two women began to stow things aboard. Athena needed a little orientation to the ship. At age eleven she is a wonderful family pet, mostly Labrador but there is some other bigger hound in there, since she is closer to 90 pounds than 70.

Otherwise, Athena looks like a Labrador with a coal black waterproof coat and webs in her paws. She also has the easygoing disposition of the Lab, with a love of family, particularly Hilley, that is profound.

We had established a place on the after deck for her to do her business when we were out of sight of land. It is not feasible to expect a dog to use the “head” on the boat. And she totally “got it” the first time. She is not like Buster in that I cannot communicate with her. But she DOES talk to Hilley in fluent Greek accented French. You all know that dogs have a favorite person they communicate with – right?

We cleared Barcelona harbor in the Hylas, running on a course due south to Mallorca. We wanted a short destination for the first day just to work out the kinks in the boat. The sails were all controlled by rolling furlers, which did the heavy lifting. But it took skill and a good eye for the wind to set them correctly. Janey is one of the best sailors I have ever crewed with and Hilley is rapidly picking up the art. However, I wanted to do the sail setting myself.

So, I had Hilley work the port side helm while I worked the one on the starboard side until I felt like she had the boat under control and then I went forward with her mother to get the jib deployed. The fact that an 18-year-old girl could reliably helm a boat as big as the Hylas was not lost on me.

We had the mainsail and jib up when the wind shifted, unexpectedly, and the mainsail boom nearly knocked us both off into the water. The situation scared me because it would have required Hilley to maneuver back to us by herself. That was not something I wanted to have happen no matter how capable and mature she is. Janey is cat quick, and she managed to duck under the boom as it came around. I am not as agile, but I was standing close enough to the mast that all I got were some sore ribs. It DID knock the wind out of me though. So, I writhed around on the deck a bit.

Janey was leaning over me, her voice frantic with worry. I was muttering to itself, “I am still way too young for her to be THAT concerned over a little knock.” So, I reached up and pulled her down on top of me and kissed her. She kissed me back with a passion fueled by the sudden scare.

We broke the kiss laughing. Then we both glanced back at Hilley who was standing at the tiller. She was looking at us with a mixture of disgust and horror. Apparently, the sight of her parents kissing like teenagers had totally grossed her out. That set off more gales of laughter.

Hilley’s response was to look appalled and ask us why we were “Acting like that.” I told her with all sincerity that it was because her mother and I loved each other and that is how people who love each other react when they realize that the other one wasn’t injured. My genius daughter is a lot more like me than I sometimes recognize. She seemed to actually add that statement to the pile of information that she was evaluating about man-woman relationships and went back to steering the ship.

Mallorca, which is also known as Majorca, is the largest of the Balearic Islands. We could see it in the distance by late afternoon. It is really only about 100 miles out of Barcelona Harbor as the crow flies.

The northern side of the island has some impressive mountains and we were coming in from the north at over 12 knots. So, they started out as a haze on the horizon and then just before sunset we rounded the western tip of the island headed toward the harbor.

We got in just at dusk, 11 hours after we had left. We dropped anchor in the Marina Palma Cuarentena at nightfall. It was a beautiful night with soft magical breezes and the sound of the little City of Palma in the background. The three of us sat on deck eating a surprisingly savory fish soup that Hilley had prepared. It probably seems a little incongruous that the daughter was the cook, but Janey never had any role model to teach her and I lived like a soldier from the time I was Hilley’s age; meaning I either ate in the Company Mess or at bars and fast food joints.

I had one of my cigars and we talked about whether it was worthwhile to walk into the City. It was coming up to 10:00 PM and we had had a long sail, plus my ribs were hurting me. But Janey, who is nocturnal anyhow, was in a mood to explore. Hilley was also restless. She said hopefully that she could just walk into the town by herself if we wanted to stay on the boat. Her tone of voice actually said, “Elderly people should not go out after sunset” but the subtext was that she wanted off of her leash, which Janey would never let happen.

Finally, Janey and Hilley decided that they would walk up to a place they had found on the internet; just to have one drink. It was only a few blocks north of the marina in the older and more picturesque part of town. Ten o’clock is part of the dinner hour in places like Spain and there were herds of tourists milling around, so I had no problem giving them my best wishes and telling them to go ahead. I was planning to rest my ancient body.

My two beautiful shipmates were both in boat shorts, which revealed an expanse of delectable leg and light Izod shirts, which showed off their bountiful curves. Walking together up the dock with their panther-like grace they looked like sisters. Janey is agelessly hot. And as I was beginning to notice, my little kitten was taller and perhaps even hotter looking than her mother.

I was beginning to wonder whether I should go with them just to make sure that they didn’t attract too many men. Then I thought to myself, “Janey can handle anything.” So instead, I went below, poured myself another big helping of JW Blue and lit a second Cohiba. I fired up the computer and applied an ice pack to my poor ribs and began to go over the day’s tech news. Life was good.

JANEY

It scared me to death when the boom swung over on Paul. He is about as agile as a musk ox, and it caught him in the side just above his hip. He was lucky he didn’t go overboard, But he was just barely in the angle and so it only knocked the wind out of him.

All I could see was the love of my life writhing on the deck and my brain exploded. I never think of losing him, but he’s getting into his mid-50s and that is the age when you start being aware of end-games, particularly with men. And the thought of him leaving me by myself was beyond bearing. So, perhaps I over-reacted. But the bottom falls out of my psyche whenever something like that happens to him.

I was on my hands and knees trying to get him to respond to me, when he took a deep breath, popped his eyes open and looked mirthfully at me and then pulled me down on top of him for a long kiss. I was so relieved I might have kissed him back with a little more fervor than I would usually display on the deck of a boat, in front of our daughter!

We were laughing with sheer relief when we broke the kiss. We both looked at Hilley. The look of absolute horror and revulsion on her face was priceless. Obviously “old” people being sexual, was more than she could handle. The sight of her sheer disgust was too much to bear, and we both descended again into gales of laughter.

She said with some sharpness in her voice, “What do you two think you are doing!!??” Paul told her we were doing what two people who love each other do, when they discover that nobody was seriously hurt. Hilley actually looked like she was processing that statement for further analysis.

My daughter’s rapidly emerging sexuality does not bother me as much as her tendency to intellectualize her observations. She watches and analyzes everything with a certain amount of cold-blooded reasoning which is like nothing I have ever encountered before in a female.

It is like she is trying to build a logical picture of how to live her life as a woman rather than just respond to events as they occur, like I do. I realized that if she could combine my feminine instincts with Paul’s rationality, she would have an extremely powerful personality. But I really fear that my dear daughter will miss some of the special joy of being a woman in the process.

Hilley IS an excellent cook, however. She spent her girlhood following around Ada, our housekeeper at Como, and Fritz, our handyman. As a result, she has acquired every one of Ada’s superb housewife skills including a wonderful way with children and the ability to cook. It’s an ability that cordon-bleu chefs would envy, which promoted her way past my humble abilities in both areas. I might also add that her time spent with Fritz turned her into an electrician/mechanic that far exceeds her father’s abilities in those areas. So, I don’t feel quite so inadequate around her.