NOT to be copyrighted, sold, or published. Mr. Roarke, Tattoo, and Fantasy Island are not of my own creation. Cassandra Jean Maszy and a few of her college friends are, but those are the only ones I created.
Please read and review, it helps my motivation to keep writing.
"De Plane! De Plane!" Could be heard echoing off the well known island as Tattoo
hollered to let his boss, and anyone within hearing distance, know that they had a visitor
Mr. Roarke hurried to put on his jacket and rushed out the door. However so caught up
was he in getting to the standard greeting spot that he about bowled his employee, Tattoo,
over. "What's wrong boss? I've never seen you bolt out of the door like that."
"Nothing's wrong. I was just lost in time is all. Now let's go greet our guest." The
magistrate's face showed annoyance at the question and masked well the confusion
inside himself as he'd not expected any visitors until tomorrow. But, nonetheless, the red
car resembling some glorified golf cart carried them to their destination.
Standing side by side the tall magistrate, and his miniature assistant, waited for the
plane to land. The pilot set the plane smoothly next to the dock. Upon the door opening a
woman wearing a long flowing black dress covered with black lace stepped out.
The dark blue, red, and purple flowers residing on the outer, see through, garment
complimented the dress, and her figure, quite nicely. Her long wavy brown hair
flowed over her shoulders and reached halfway down her back. She wasn't knock them
dead gorgeous, but the man wouldn't call her an eyesore either. Tattoo, flirt that he was,
had his eyes needed to be put back into place.
"Tattoo!" It was only his name, but it was enough for the assistant to get a normal
appearance on his face.
"So, who is she and what's her fantasy?" Tattoo glanced up at Roarke.
"Her name is none of your business, and her fantasy, well… It's private. Just be nice,
and NO flirting." Turning to his guest he raised the glass which had been brought to him,
"Welcome, welcome to Fantasy Island. I'm Mr. Roarke your host."
The woman's physical appearance may not have unhinged the magistrate, but her eyes
did. Sure, a lot of people arriving on the island looked nervously excited, but her eyes
only showed nerves, and uncertainty, and a deepness he hadn't seen since…. Mentally he
shook his head refusing to 'go there', and uncomfortable with the fact he really didn't
know who she was, nor what she was here for, but that wasn't something he'd have
admitted to his minute helper.
"Please show our guest to her bungalow." Mr. Roarke told a native girl who had walked
up to his side on his signal. "Give her the one closest to my office."
"But boss, that's …" One dart from his employer shut Tattoo up.
Others around him may not have been able to read his eyes, but Cassandra had, and what
she'd seen made her more than a tad jumpy. Following the native girl to the bungalow
she nodded her head and shut the door as her mind was on Roarke's greeting. It had been
polite, and it had been all within proper bounds, but…fingering the envelope inside the
only pocket the dress held she sighed as she sat down in a comfortable white chair against
the wall leading into the kitchen.
"I hope I haven't wasted my time, or his. What if …" Her voice trailed off as she let
out a silent groan. Holding the side of her head she felt like bawling out of frustration if
nothing else. "Heaven help us, if I've been a fool."
Mr. Roarke sat at his desk thumbing his desk as he leaned back in his chair with his
arms folded, and one hand lifted to his cheek. First thing he'd done on getting back to his
office was to make some private calls; off the records Tattoo would see. And what he
found confused him even more. He could still part of the conversation he'd had with a
P.I. he'd occasionally call without anyone knowing it.
" Cassandra Jean Alders. Thirty five, has three degrees. One in music, one in
education, and one qualifying her to be a deaf interpreter. She still goes to the local
college in her spare time to take elective classes. Things like dance and such.." Questions
from Roarke had followed the voice on the other end, silence followed only to pick up
with the sound of rattling papers. "No, she's not wealthy, and no, she's not due any
inheritance, but she's as honest as the day is long. Anything else?
Of course the answer had been no. Some more leg work he'd not tell anyone about had
been done, but it had brought no more answers than the call with Mr. Gregory. Guess
he'd just have buy some time, therefore he called Tattoo in.
"Please tell Cassandra, our latest guest, I beg leave of attending to her needs right now. I
have urgent business that needs attending to."
"What business? I thought all the emergencies were over."
"I do not have to tell you everything, now do I? Now, just go and tell her." Only when
his assistant left did the man sit back down once more.
What is it that brought you here, Cassandra? Your eyes said I knew you, or at least
know of you. What is it that you were fingering in your pocket? And why haven't you
come to me asking questions eager to start a fantasy like any normal guest would? The
answers would have to wait he had things to do.