Read Online Fortunes Obsession by Jerome Reyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jerome Reyer
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be the deal breaker. If Fahd says no, it's
no......is that clear?
" Fair enough", said Bokaar, " All I ask is that you try".
" I will call Fahd, right now," said Bey, " We will inform him that tomorrow morning is our final meeting.
**********************************
The two young ladies were exquisite. Ibrahim Fahd, code name, Pyramid, was one of the best customers of Detroit's most upscale madam. She provided girls for high level auto executives, visiting foreigners and other members of the affluent classes. Pyramid was a favorite customer with most of the girls. He tipped outrageously and he never beat them.
At the moment the phone rang, these two exquisite naked creatures, one a cafe au lait black girl, and the other a stunning redhead, were rubbing oil onto Fahds naked body.
" Fahd here", he said, hoping it would be Dara, so he could humiliate her by describing his companions and what they were doing to him. " Oh, yes, certainly.....I'll be there at eight sharp."
He hung up and was pleased. By tomorrow afternoon, he would be on his way back to New York and arrangements will have been made to add even more money to his ever growing coffers.
He pushed the redhead's head between his legs. " Ah, yes, good, oh yes.......that's a good girl."
*******************************************************
Farley Collins picked up the phone and dialed Delta Airlines.
He was tired of calling the silk company and would head for New York on Thursday morning. He knew that the silk company was still
in business. If it weren't, there would have been a recording telling him that the number he dialed was no longer a working number. He surmised from the many unanswered rings, that the office was a one man office and that if the bald, bearded man wasn't in, then no one would answer. He thought that if he went to New York and camped in front of the office door, that eventually his quarry would turn up. He also knew that men who dealt in this sort of information were bound to be dangerous. He took out his antiquated .45 caliber service automatic and a box of shells. It was neatly packed in cosmoline, the grease used to protect firearms. He set to work washing it in a tub of solvent, carefully removing every speck of grease. Afterwards he stripped down the weapon and oiled all of its parts with a light gun oil. Later, he visited the local shooting range and after donning a pair of ear protectors, fired at the small, hanging targets from various distances. He fired in the old fashioned way , facing left of his target and using one hand. Collins pumped the bullets into groupings that made the bullet holes hardly discernable from one another. He was a crack shot with this most difficult and heavy of handguns.
Satisfied that his skills as a marksman had not diminished, he drove back to his home and cleaned the barrel of the weapon. He placed it in a holster, which in turn he placed in a toilet bag, which was placed in his suitcase which would be sent in the baggage compartment. He would spend the following day, Wednesday, getting into shape with his newly devised exercise regimen.
*************************************
Dara and Peter sat side by side on his couch. A bottle of cognac and two glasses, one third full with the amber liquid sat on a slate coffee table in front of them. The room was quiet and no music was on the stereo.
" I'm very nervous, Peter. There's so much to tell and I don't know where to start. I know you'll never want to see me again when I tell you these things but it isn't fair to string you along."
Peter looked puzzled. " Please.....get to the point...You're driving me nuts."
" First of all, my name isn't really Dara Morgan. I changed it from Doris Murkowski. I"m just a blue collar Polish kid from
no......is that clear?
" Fair enough", said Bokaar, " All I ask is that you try".
" I will call Fahd, right now," said Bey, " We will inform him that tomorrow morning is our final meeting.
**********************************
The two young ladies were exquisite. Ibrahim Fahd, code name, Pyramid, was one of the best customers of Detroit's most upscale madam. She provided girls for high level auto executives, visiting foreigners and other members of the affluent classes. Pyramid was a favorite customer with most of the girls. He tipped outrageously and he never beat them.
At the moment the phone rang, these two exquisite naked creatures, one a cafe au lait black girl, and the other a stunning redhead, were rubbing oil onto Fahds naked body.
" Fahd here", he said, hoping it would be Dara, so he could humiliate her by describing his companions and what they were doing to him. " Oh, yes, certainly.....I'll be there at eight sharp."
He hung up and was pleased. By tomorrow afternoon, he would be on his way back to New York and arrangements will have been made to add even more money to his ever growing coffers.
He pushed the redhead's head between his legs. " Ah, yes, good, oh yes.......that's a good girl."
*******************************************************
Farley Collins picked up the phone and dialed Delta Airlines.
He was tired of calling the silk company and would head for New York on Thursday morning. He knew that the silk company was still
in business. If it weren't, there would have been a recording telling him that the number he dialed was no longer a working number. He surmised from the many unanswered rings, that the office was a one man office and that if the bald, bearded man wasn't in, then no one would answer. He thought that if he went to New York and camped in front of the office door, that eventually his quarry would turn up. He also knew that men who dealt in this sort of information were bound to be dangerous. He took out his antiquated .45 caliber service automatic and a box of shells. It was neatly packed in cosmoline, the grease used to protect firearms. He set to work washing it in a tub of solvent, carefully removing every speck of grease. Afterwards he stripped down the weapon and oiled all of its parts with a light gun oil. Later, he visited the local shooting range and after donning a pair of ear protectors, fired at the small, hanging targets from various distances. He fired in the old fashioned way , facing left of his target and using one hand. Collins pumped the bullets into groupings that made the bullet holes hardly discernable from one another. He was a crack shot with this most difficult and heavy of handguns.
Satisfied that his skills as a marksman had not diminished, he drove back to his home and cleaned the barrel of the weapon. He placed it in a holster, which in turn he placed in a toilet bag, which was placed in his suitcase which would be sent in the baggage compartment. He would spend the following day, Wednesday, getting into shape with his newly devised exercise regimen.
*************************************
Dara and Peter sat side by side on his couch. A bottle of cognac and two glasses, one third full with the amber liquid sat on a slate coffee table in front of them. The room was quiet and no music was on the stereo.
" I'm very nervous, Peter. There's so much to tell and I don't know where to start. I know you'll never want to see me again when I tell you these things but it isn't fair to string you along."
Peter looked puzzled. " Please.....get to the point...You're driving me nuts."
" First of all, my name isn't really Dara Morgan. I changed it from Doris Murkowski. I"m just a blue collar Polish kid from
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