The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) 📕

just want you to have a good time, baby. See you soon.” With another kiss and a gentle pass of his hand over my head, he leaves me at the table. I watch him cross the lounge, his shoulders back, ass tight under his jeans. He attracts attention: several women—and men—watch him go. He turns at the far door, looks back at me and smiles when our eyes meet, warming away my lingering anxiety. I wave at him. He tips his chin and grins before he strides through the sliding doors.

Within five minutes, I wish I’d followed him. No one else sits at my table; maybe I scared them away. The presentation is just a sales pitch for some of the cruise services: the spa, the private dinner cabanas, the bondage marketplace. After a super-perky presentation by Jason-the-Masseur from the Spa, I tune out and start to reach for my tablet.

The appearance of an Indian lady, in the most gorgeous red and gold sari, behind the chair across from me makes me put the tablet back down.

“That’s my name,” she says, pointing at a place card.

“Hello,” I say, remembering Logan’s admonition. “My name’s Emily.”

She shyly offers her hand, covered in a swirling, floral design. I develop instant henna envy, even though I’ve never wanted it before. “Vashi,” she says.

I shake. “I love the design on your hands.”

“Thank you.” She ducks her head as she smiles. Is she as shy with strangers as I am? Jeez, this will be a quiet lunch. I hope the other two at our table are chatty.

But the other two, Amy and Sierra by their place cards, never show up, and Vashi turns out not to be shy at all once we break the ice over breadsticks and lemon-water. Vashi not only doesn’t drink, but she’s a vegetarian, something the cruise doesn’t really cater to all that well, I realize as I read over the printed menu that’s been left at each place setting.

When I lift my eyes to Vashi, she’s not perusing the offerings and I wonder if that’s because it is so limited: just two appetizers and one entrée selection marked with a little pepper for vegetarians. There are eight of each for those of us who eat meat.

“Kind of a limited menu for vegetarians,” I say.

Vashi glances at the menu and nods. “I would not want any of those anyway.”

“What are you going to eat?”

She colors, a delicate rose staining her smooth, coffee-with-cream cheeks. “My partners have arranged a special menu for me while I am aboard. They are very good to me.”

They? She’s part of a poly group? That shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does, but in her traditional dress and with her demure manner, I wouldn’t have guessed she’d be part of a non-traditional grouping. But what do I know? She’s on a kinky cruise. She can’t be all that traditional. Unless kink is traditional in India. I have absolutely no idea, but I have a vague memory of reading about Indian erotic religious carvings. I’ll have to Google that when I get back to my cabin.

“You are here with your partner?” she asks.

I nod. “Logan. He’s my Dom.”

She gives me another of her shy, half-hidden smiles. “I could tell. I saw him standing with you earlier. The way he had his arm around you. He’s very protective.”

Can total strangers see how wonderful Logan is? On a boat full of submissives that might not be a good thing. “He is.”

“Have you been together long?” she asks.

“No, we just met before the cruise. You?”

She blushes again. She blushes almost as easily as I do, only with her coloring, she just looks healthy and glowing, while I look like I’ve fallen into a vat of red paint.

“Sunday is our fifth anniversary. That is why my partners gave me this cruise. To celebrate.”

“That’s so nice of, um, them. And five years together? That’s great.”

She nods. “I am very lucky. My birth chart was very inauspicious. That is why I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in America when I was a little girl, so that my bad luck would not ruin my sisters’ chances for good marriages. My aunt and uncle had only boys.”

She falls silent as a waiter bounces over. He’s wearing a pink bow tie to match his pink thong, with black Nikes—which I’m sure are practical—but are a little silly-looking with the thong. He takes my order, then turns to Vashi. “Your special meal is ready, madam. Would you like it served now?”

“I will wait for Emily,” she says, smiling at me.

I grin back.

Once the waiter leaves, she continues without me prompting. “In my country, it is very important for women of my caste to be educated. My aunt and uncle encouraged me in school so that if my horoscope prevented me from marrying, I could still be useful to my family. Shaan was my teacher in nursing school. He’s an anesthesiologist. I was very lucky he did not mind my horoscope, and his partner Niall accepted me. I am a very lucky woman.”

Wow.

“I had no idea astro—” What’s the right word? Astrology? Horology? Isn’t that watchmaking? “Uh, star charts were so important in India.”

Vashi nods. “In love, the stars control everything. My parents’ charts were an eighty-six percent match. That is considered very auspicious for a good marriage.”

“Do your, um, parents know? I mean, about you and your partners?”

Vashi gives me a sad smile. “No. Shaan and Niall were kind enough to take me back to my village where Shaan and I were married. Niall stood as Shaan’s brother, since Shaan has no family. My parents were very happy because I married a doctor, despite being influenced by Mars. That is a very bad sign. I was happy to see my family happy, and happier when we flew to Sri Lanka for our honeymoon and had a second ceremony with Niall. That was my true wedding.”

Her happiness glows out of her, brighter than her blush.