Read Online Endangered Species by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online Page A

the girl. Raven hair fell to her shoulders and the light brown of her skin was taut over high cheekbones. Her face escaped full oriental flatness by a well-made nose suggesting the miscegenation of a Portuguese seaman somewhere in her ancestry. From eyes as dark, Stevenson thought, as the tropic night, she confronted his scrutiny, carried out with the thunderstruck wonder of half-drunk admiration. She pouted crimson lips around a cigarette and seemed to blow a mocking kiss as she withdrew it from her lips.
    â€˜You like girl too?’ she asked him as he inhaled the smoke from her lungs. Taylor was on his way back from the bar, his eyes daring Stevenson to poach.
    He shook his head and she shrugged. ‘Pity,’ she said with honest, whorish candour. ‘You very good-looking man.’
    Someone put some music on and one of the Norwegians was dragged on to the tiny dance floor by a giggling Chinese girl. Taylor had just eased himself alongside Sharimah.
    Stevenson stood. ‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked and then stared at Taylor. The girl looked from one to another and Taylor shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said, his tolerance edged with a touch of sarcasm, ‘I buy the drinks, you dance.’
    â€˜Just one,’ said Stevenson placatingly, holding out his hand to Sharimah.
    â€˜Just one.’
    They swung into the faintly ridiculous gyrations of the dance, Stevenson awkwardly, his eyes on the body of the girl, while she, automatic in her movements at first, abandoned herself to the music and the inflaming ofStevenson’s passion. Beyond her bare shoulder, he could see Taylor’s smouldering eyes devouring Sharimah’s figure.
    They danced until the last guitar chord slashed the air, leaving them breathless and suddenly self-conscious in the silence.
    Stevenson caught Sharimah’s elbow and turned her back to the table, but Taylor had gone to relieve himself, and another song, slow and smoochy, crooned lugubriously from the tape recorder somewhere behind the bar. Both the Norwegians, huge blond men, swivelled slowly, the tiny Chinese women engulfed in hugs.
    Stevenson slipped his arms round Sharimah’s waist and drew her to him. The scent and touch of her overwhelmed his senses. He thought, distantly, of Cathy. Sharimah’s face was averted so he pressed closer as they began to sway to the slow beat. Her pelvis thrust forward to meet his, and she turned her face up to him. His tumescence intruded between their contiguous bellies.
    â€˜You want me, tonight?’
    He swung her round and found himself facing Taylor. Sharimah sensed some conflict within him and drew back her head. Not thinking he would spurn her, given his obvious urgency, she sought elsewhere for explanation.
    â€˜You married man?’
    Stevenson looked down at her, his agony clear on his face.
    â€˜Yes,’ he lied, feeling her fall away and himself shrink feebly.
    She sighed, and, as if to compound an image of star-crossed lovers, he embraced her tighter. Lust unaccountably gave way to a sudden, overwhelming feeling of tenderness.
    They drew apart, holding hands.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he said.
    She shrugged. ‘Okay. Your friend he wants me tonight.’ Stevenson nodded. ‘I like you best but I am business girl. Your friend good business, okay?’ She squeezed his handthen let it go and walked towards Taylor who was watching them from the table.
    â€˜Sure,’ murmured Stevenson following her, as her buttocks wiggled away from him.
    Stevenson stumbled at the top of the gangway. He was not drunk, just a little unsteady, his coordination a touch awry. As he came level with the deck two figures could be seen in the pools of light from the bulkhead lamps. The Tamil security guard greeted him with a respectfully indulgent grin.
    â€˜Good evening, sir.’
    Stevenson paused on the gangway table, hauling himself upright before stepping on to the deck. The second man straightened