Within moments, its warmth seemed to
spread throughout his body, suffusing him with the glow of
well-being.
I must celebrate , he told himself. Yes, I must mark this day in a very special way .
Setting down the crystal snifter of Armagnac,
he picked up the alligator-bound Hermes address book on the desk
and flipped to the Gs. There it was, her name and number. Denise
Girard. He would call her and arrange to get together this evening.
Perhaps they would have a light dinner first. Then he would take
her to the tiny fourth-floor walk-up on the rue des Rosiers that
he'd retained possession of all these years. The same apartment in
the old Jewish quarter that the Levants had given him so many years
ago.
He could bring her here or take her anywhere,
for that matter. After all, she was beautiful, sophisticated, and
well-mannered. But he preferred taking her here tonight. With the
right drugs, he could get her to do almost anything, and for that,
the little apartment was perfect. The neighbors, primarily gays
who'd invaded and begun to gentrify the neighborhood, asked no
questions, being the misfits they were. He picked up the telephone
and dialed her number.
Although a magnet to women, he'd managed to
stay unattached. No matter how beautiful or rich the various women
in his life had been, he'd always ended their affairs quickly and
with minimum fuss. He didn't want the unnecessary complications
that inevitably arose from relationships with women, and had always
found it more expedient to hire one when he felt like it.
Denise picked up at the other end of the
line. 'Bonjour,' she said in a breathy voice.
'I want to see you tonight,' Ram said.
'Oh, it's you,' Denise replied. 'I ... I...
of course. What time?'
He heard the initial hesitancy in her voice,
and he smiled slightly at her obvious change of mind. Money always
talks. 'Eight o'clock,' he said. 'We'll have a little dinner.'
'Where?' she asked. 'How shall I dress?'
'Nothing too fancy,' Ram replied. 'I'm in the
mood for simple bistro fare.'
'Okay,' Denise said, disappointment in her
voice.
'See you then.'
'Ciao.'
He replaced the receiver in its cradle,
leaned back in his chair, and smiled with satisfaction. He would
have a good time with the whore tonight, and although she wouldn't
want to see him for a while, she would inevitably be drawn back by
the money and the drugs. And once again she would let him do
whatever he pleased. He felt a familiar hardening in his trousers
and finished off the Armagnac, setting the empty snifter down with
deliberation. Anything, he thought. Anything I want.
CHAPTER 4
Allegra sank back onto the plush banquette
and, panting hard, untied the satin bows at her ankles and slipped
out of her high-heeled shoes. Wiggling her toes and massaging her
feet against the thick carpeting, she took a sip of the champagne
in her glass. Ah, that's better , she thought, setting the
glass back down. She glanced at the black Louboutins that lay on
their sides at her feet, like fallen monuments. Beautiful as they
were, they weren't made for dancing. At least not the relentless
way Todd goes at it , she thought with amusement. She'd almost
forgotten that he was an indefatigable dancer, and tonight he was
absolutely a dancing fool, refusing to sit out a single number.
Allegra finally had to take a break.
The DJ was spinning a spectacular dance mix,
and they'd been on the dance floor for at least thirty or forty
minutes. She wasn't sure because she'd lost all track of time, but
her feet had started killing her. Dehydrated, she wanted nothing so
much as a long, cold drink of water. She looked toward where she'd
left Todd wildly gyrating with Candie Gundersen, but didn't see
them.
Thank God she was out tonight , Allegra
thought. The young blond beauty, a giantess of about six feet three
inches in height, was a fixture on the downtown art and club scene
whom they both knew slightly.
She took the last sip of her champagne, then
put
spread throughout his body, suffusing him with the glow of
well-being.
I must celebrate , he told himself. Yes, I must mark this day in a very special way .
Setting down the crystal snifter of Armagnac,
he picked up the alligator-bound Hermes address book on the desk
and flipped to the Gs. There it was, her name and number. Denise
Girard. He would call her and arrange to get together this evening.
Perhaps they would have a light dinner first. Then he would take
her to the tiny fourth-floor walk-up on the rue des Rosiers that
he'd retained possession of all these years. The same apartment in
the old Jewish quarter that the Levants had given him so many years
ago.
He could bring her here or take her anywhere,
for that matter. After all, she was beautiful, sophisticated, and
well-mannered. But he preferred taking her here tonight. With the
right drugs, he could get her to do almost anything, and for that,
the little apartment was perfect. The neighbors, primarily gays
who'd invaded and begun to gentrify the neighborhood, asked no
questions, being the misfits they were. He picked up the telephone
and dialed her number.
Although a magnet to women, he'd managed to
stay unattached. No matter how beautiful or rich the various women
in his life had been, he'd always ended their affairs quickly and
with minimum fuss. He didn't want the unnecessary complications
that inevitably arose from relationships with women, and had always
found it more expedient to hire one when he felt like it.
Denise picked up at the other end of the
line. 'Bonjour,' she said in a breathy voice.
'I want to see you tonight,' Ram said.
'Oh, it's you,' Denise replied. 'I ... I...
of course. What time?'
He heard the initial hesitancy in her voice,
and he smiled slightly at her obvious change of mind. Money always
talks. 'Eight o'clock,' he said. 'We'll have a little dinner.'
'Where?' she asked. 'How shall I dress?'
'Nothing too fancy,' Ram replied. 'I'm in the
mood for simple bistro fare.'
'Okay,' Denise said, disappointment in her
voice.
'See you then.'
'Ciao.'
He replaced the receiver in its cradle,
leaned back in his chair, and smiled with satisfaction. He would
have a good time with the whore tonight, and although she wouldn't
want to see him for a while, she would inevitably be drawn back by
the money and the drugs. And once again she would let him do
whatever he pleased. He felt a familiar hardening in his trousers
and finished off the Armagnac, setting the empty snifter down with
deliberation. Anything, he thought. Anything I want.
CHAPTER 4
Allegra sank back onto the plush banquette
and, panting hard, untied the satin bows at her ankles and slipped
out of her high-heeled shoes. Wiggling her toes and massaging her
feet against the thick carpeting, she took a sip of the champagne
in her glass. Ah, that's better , she thought, setting the
glass back down. She glanced at the black Louboutins that lay on
their sides at her feet, like fallen monuments. Beautiful as they
were, they weren't made for dancing. At least not the relentless
way Todd goes at it , she thought with amusement. She'd almost
forgotten that he was an indefatigable dancer, and tonight he was
absolutely a dancing fool, refusing to sit out a single number.
Allegra finally had to take a break.
The DJ was spinning a spectacular dance mix,
and they'd been on the dance floor for at least thirty or forty
minutes. She wasn't sure because she'd lost all track of time, but
her feet had started killing her. Dehydrated, she wanted nothing so
much as a long, cold drink of water. She looked toward where she'd
left Todd wildly gyrating with Candie Gundersen, but didn't see
them.
Thank God she was out tonight , Allegra
thought. The young blond beauty, a giantess of about six feet three
inches in height, was a fixture on the downtown art and club scene
whom they both knew slightly.
She took the last sip of her champagne, then
put
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