Paradise - Part Two (The Erotic Adventures of Sophia Durant) Read Online Free Page B

island, without Julie and searching for an almost mystical, idealized form of life that couldn’t possibly exist. The idea was romantic and depressing at the same time and I tried to shake it. The closer I got to Stafford, the more possibilities I saw for what could happen between us. But I couldn’t really get a good read on him. I didn’t know how he felt.
    I used Minerva to open Stafford’s desktop as well as all the contents of his phone. For a moment I wondered why I hadn’t tried to do all this sooner. Then I remembered how hard I had been trying to put him out of my head. Also, and, for no good reason at all, I had wanted to try to preserve as pure an image of Stafford as possible in my mind. What I knew of his dealings didn’t help the image. They didn’t necessarily hurt it either, just added an element of uncertainty and distrust. I became increasingly uneasy as I prepared to open his desktop files and go through them. I made sure everything I was doing on my computer was heavily encrypted so nothing I did would have the slightest chance of even inadvertently getting out. I was extremely paranoid about security when it came to clandestine activity online.
    Then I took a deep breath and dove in. Opening Stafford’s desktop, I found the usual shortcut icons—shortcuts for web browsers, Windows Media Player, Spotify, Skype, iTunes—and I found a folder marked “Images,” along with folders marked, “Desktop ’08,” “Personal,” “Taxes,” and “Hedge fund & derivatives.” The first folder I went to was “Images.” Inside were more folders with various dates spread over the last four years. Oddly, the images weren’t of Stafford or his family or even travel pictures. They were images of company logos, American and foreign. A lot of it was advertising too. I rapidly flipped through about four hundred images of ads and logos. I thought Stafford must’ve owned some of these companies or part of them and he must’ve been inspired by the advertising or logos of the others or perhaps they were companies he wished to acquire a piece of but had not yet managed to do so.
    Next I opened “Personal.” There was nothing in it, waste of time,. “Taxes” similarly yielded an empty folder. One left on the desktop: “Hedge funds & derivatives.” Inside was one image file, which I opened. It was merely a circular, yellow happy face. “Desktop ’08” revealed similar contents to the newer desktop. The file folders were labeled exactly the same. I opened “Images” in “Desktop ’08.” It was completely cleared out. Likewise, “Taxes,” “Hedge funds & derivatives,” “Personal,” and “Images” were empty. Why did he even have a
“Desktop ’08” file if there was nothing in it? I looked for folders and files that might be hidden from view. One new folder came up in the “Images” file on the current desktop. It was called “Blog.” I opened “Blog” and found over 1,500 erotic and light pornographic images and a few pornographic clips downloaded off the internet. I watched one of the clips. A beautiful Asian woman, perfect figure—with what looked and moved like natural large breasts—was arched over backwards, on hands and feet, chest raised up toward the ceiling, as the male porn star came up underneath her and fucked her from below, thrusting almost straight up.
    I closed Stafford’s computer out and went into his phone. As I did this, I found myself in the constant grip of a fear that Stafford would knock at the door. More than once I got up and went to the door, peeking out into the hall to make sure he wasn’t there. I wondered if I’d smoked too much AK-47 and Hindu Kush lately, causing a permanent paranoia. Or was I right to be paranoid?
    Compounding the feeling of anxiety was the increasing sense of cabin fever I was getting being stuck on an island for so long with no recourse to any form of civilization more than Governor’s Harbour, which itself was so isolated