For some reason, I couldn't feel less concerned about handing over everything that identifies me, so I reach into my back pocket and place my wallet on the counter.
In return, the woman hands us two sealed envelopes. "Everything you need is in there."
Isabelle takes the envelopes from the woman's hands and heads toward the set of doors opposite the ones we walked in through. They lead out to what looks like endless miles of white sand and clear blue water. Huts line the shore, and if that's where we're living right now, it'll be fine by me. Simple is all I want, and this is more like paradise.
"People live here?" I ask her.
She leads us to a hut, unlocks the door with a key she slipped out from one of the envelopes and opens the door into a hotel-style studio. "This is temporary," she says while closing the door behind me. "We'll be assigned jobs, earn an income, and find permanent housing. It won't be far away from here, though, because this island is only three miles from one side to the other.
"Okay," I tell her, unsure of what else there is to say.
She pulls out paperwork from both envelopes and compiles them. "Okay, so from here on out, if anyone asks your name, you are Andrew Fisher from Sandy, Utah. You were a freelance software engineer who developed some unique technology that Amazon purchased for millions. However, here, you will be lifeguarding at the second guard post, Monday through Friday, eight to four, earning fifteen U.S. dollars an hour." I close my eyes to wrap my head around what she's saying, and it takes me a minute to understand she's reading me my new identity. "You don't have to remember anything but your name and job because no one will ask you what you did. They all know it would be a lie."
"Wow. Okay, then. It's a good thing I know how to swim, I guess." I can't help but laugh at how ridiculous this is. Then again, we're alive. So, there's that. "Why bother labeling us if everyone knows it's a lie?"
She shrugs. "I didn't make the rules. All I know is, we have new identities, and jobs to make a living here. Oh yeah, and no one wants to kill us and stuff."
"Then, who are you?" I'm intrigued to hear who she is and was, according to these records.
She flips through a couple of the papers until she finds the one she's looking for. She smiles before reading it. "I'm Tracy Ales from Taos, New Mexico. I was an exotic dancer who got rich off a frequent client who tipped in the thousands. I will be bartending at the Tiki Lounge for a job three nights a week, earning two dollars an hour, plus tips. How nice."
Laughter pours out of me, nearly knocking me off my feet as I drop down into a straw-woven chair. After a long couple minutes of belting out therapeutic laughter at the hilarity of this situation, I grip my stomach, feeling a strain. "Sorry, I haven't laughed that hard in … possibly ever. Wait, wait, will you be naked while you bartend?"
"Ha ha," she says, completely unamused.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, you're welcome to dance for me whenever you'd like. I mean, I'd tip you and all, but you stole all my money."
Isabelle steps in toward me, hovering, staring me down, then playfully punches me in the chest. "That's the first time I've seen you smile like that," she says.
"It's the first time I've had a reason to."
"Even though your reason makes you a dirtbag, it's nice to hear you laugh and to see that charming smile of yours," she says.
"Are we safe here?" I ask her. I've never felt the need to ask anyone that question. I'm always the one in charge of that answer, but I need to hear it from her this time.
"These people here have formed a society here. Their past doesn't follow them as long as they follow the rules,” she explains.
"You've still only shared the first rule, you know, probably because you broke it and all," I remind her.
She hands me a piece of paper. "Here are the rules," she says before reciting them.
You will not steal.
You will not murder.
You will respect your neighbors.
You will respect your girlfriend.
You will not cheat.
You will not reveal your previous identity or history.
You will not contact anyone outside of this island.
You will not utilize technology that connects you to anyone overseas.
You will not ask anyone about their past.
You will have hot romp sessions as often as possible with your girlfriend.
"Okay, so your number ten is not on my list, neither is your number four for that matter," I tell her. "As a matter of fact, there are only eight rules on my list.”
"Oh?" she questions.
"And I don't have a girlfriend, so those rules don't quite apply—”
Isabelle drops down onto my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. I can't bear the thought of making her lean into me and not showing her just how okay I am with those two rules, so I cup my hand around the back of her head, forcing her lips to mine. I kiss her with purpose, release, freedom, and hope for a future without stipulations. I was naturally attracted to her years ago for pure reasons, and while life brought us back together to fight each other, I’m still just as attracted to, and enamored by her as I was then.
I lift Isabelle up and walk over to the bed as her legs tangle around my waist. "You know, I knew you way back when you were an innocent college girl, but I knew you had a dark side, and I thought it was hot. I wanted to see it.”
"You didn't know that," she argues. "Plus, you just broke rule nine."
"I didn't ask about your past, Isabelle. I know your past. I know your pleasure in dissecting human minds."
"That's in the past, so focus on us now," she says, lying beneath my embracing frame with her dark hair fanned out over the white comforter.
"Yeah, now look at us," I repeat, pulling off her white t-shirt that she snagged from the airport along with a pair of tiny, navy blue shorts that looked like they were handmade for her ass.
I didn't argue when she picked out the beach boy, breezy button-down shirt and contrasting board shorts for me because a change felt good, but getting out of these clothes while on top of her, feels even better.
"What made you so wild, Isabelle?" Her slowly revealed history makes me crave every part of her, while I eagerly try to peel away each layer of what holds her together.
"I don't think you want to know," she tells me.
"Now, I think I need to know. Within these walls, rules don't apply, and that's my rule."
"Hmm. Well,” she sighs. "My dad was a prisoner of war, and my mother was one of the enemies who found him … then saved him—they committed a war crime that should have had them locked up or worse.”
"I—I had no idea. I'm sorry.” I didn't realize I was asking for this answer, and I immediately see a changed look in her eyes as she explains.
"It's fine. Let's just say, they weren't meant to be together, but they managed to make it work."
Everything in my body tenses and I freeze, staring down at this woman who just unraveled life's most diabolical meaning of what creates a person's path in life. "That's how you knew about this place?”
"It was our backup plan if anything ever happened to one of us. They’ll find me here someday.”
She looks at me with an empty stare, and I try to change the subject in fear of pushing her too far. "That’s incredible. They’ll find you here, I know it," I tell her. "Your strength—it honestly just makes me want you more.”
She swallows hard and blinks for a long second, visibly pushing her thoughts to the side. "Prove it," she says, pulling me down on top of her.
Her fingertips scrape against my cheeks, then down the center of my chest. "Everything I have inside of me is yours. I want to be free from knowledge, from secrets, from everything before now," she says with her hand around my cock as she presses me inside of her.