A few minutes pass quietly. Finally, Megan reaches out with one hand and closes it around her fathers hand. He starts slightly, not expecting it, but takes her hand. Silence continues until Megans eyes finally close and she begins to softly snore. Then and only then, does Jacob turn and stare at his daughter. There is a fathers love in his eyes, but much more. His eyes roam hungrily over his daughters lithe body…staring at her with the hunger of a starving man. He catches himself several times reaching out with his hand to caress her. Jacob mutters, Damn it, under his breath and turns away from her…his free hand moving down against his again tented shorts and rubs his cotton covered erection with regret before he finally falls asleep. The next morning, Jacob awakes early, the habits ingrained from many years of rising early every morning. He explores the shower alcove, emptying his bladder and then, glancing continuously back at his daughter, takes a quick shower. Finished, he stands. It was pissing them off highly and it easily kept them stalled for the days we required. [The New York hotel room incident, which had been the first escalation into areas I objected strongly to, was on October 13, four weekends after we returned from Noumea. I'd rolled the twelve 6s on November 1 and told my families about my Voyage on the 3rd. My Un-Resurrection Day would be on the 13th. It was only the last couple of weeks that the baddies' actions were frequently annoying; previously we'd had to dodge something only once or twice per week.]Soon after my "I'm leaving" announcement to my families, we'd told Paul about the baddies, telling him, "The Guardian Angel discovered them for us." We immediately put our staff onto monitoring the bugs I'd placed because none of the families wanted to waste valuable Be-With-Mark time on that activity. To Paul's and our guards' frustrations we weren't taking any active countermeasures, vetoing their suggestions with, "The angel has its own.
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