“Why do you need that orange life preserver?” The red-head asked. “We can see that you have a large flotation device between your legs.” She put her hands on Gregson’s chest.

It was true. He could still see his manhood, even with several extra pounds. A doctor told him once, “If you lose weight, your testosterone will rise.”

“Doc, if I lose weight, I’ll go nuclear.”

The women were getting closer, and Gregson felt his blood boiling. Steam was rising off his body, like black-top on a sunny day, after a thunderstorm. The blonde had her hands on his waste, and the black-haired goddess walked like a cat towards him, preparing to pounce on prey.


The PI looked-up at the sand dunes. There was Murphy, standing in the beach grass with an umbrella drink.

“Sorry ladies, but I need to borrow my friend.”

Gregson followed Murphy’s voice. The women reacted like cats who had been kicked. They lay on their beach towels, and let the sun soak-up their disappointment.

“Some view, huh?” Murphy said.

“Some view.” Gregson looked back. “Do you think they’ll get melanoma?”

“No. But they might get crabs. They spend a lot of time, down there by the beach, hoping for a male to come out of the water.”

“That’s not how women act, where I’m from,” Gregson said.

“Precisely. The president put this place together, on a limited budget. It doesn’t exist, on a map. Technically, it doesn’t belong to anybody.”

“What is this place, then? And why did you ask me here?”

“Well… besides you being a bachelor, and me knowing you might appreciate the view, strange things have been happening…”

“Like what?” Gregson asked.


“How many women are on this island?” Gregson asked.

“There should be 104, but 4 are missing.”

“How many men?”

“Not counting the governor, you, or myself… about 8.”

“How can there be, about 8?” Gregson asked.

“Well, I was showering with Jeremy, one of the guards, and I saw his surgical scar. It might be testicular cancer, or an angry husband.”

Gregson winced in pain, just thinking about it. “So, you want me to find the missing women?”

“Not exactly,” Murphy said. “I want you to figure out, the real purpose behind this island. Occasionally, we get new women, but never any men. They’re all from well-to-do families, and University educated.”

“What’s your purpose here, Murphy?

“I’m supposed to find the women. The President visits twice a year, for entertainment, if you catch my drift?”

“Why do they stay? They can’t possibly want to be with an 80-year-old man, although—power goes a long way.”

“That’s what I want you to figure-out, Gregson. The governor is not normal. He has some form of clinical background—you can tell. Politicians are slick—but he is prickly, or just a down-right prick.”

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