Sharing a few gossipy lunches, Bianca had regaled her with stories about some of the men she’d bedded. It was exciting stuff, and although Ashley hadn’t seen Bianca since the supermodel had hooked up with the Russian billionaire, she was obviously still on her radar, hence the invitation.
Ashley picked up the phone and called her mum; she had to tell
Elise was less than thrilled to hear from her. ‘You only call me when you need something,’ she whined.
‘Take a look at this,’ one of Taye’s fellow players said, thrusting a mobile phone at him. ‘Get a load of
Taye took the phone and stared longingly at the photo of a naked, extremely busty brunette, sitting in a chair facing the camera with her legs spread. She was pretty in a tarty way, but it was her tits that caught his attention. They were huge, with dark extended nipples, so very different from Ashley’s — although since she’d had the boob job, hers were pretty spectacular. He couldn’t complain.
Taye felt the rise of Mammoth (a name he’d given his penis when he was twelve) and attempted to hide his embarrassment at getting a hard-on simply from checking out some random woman’s tits.
‘Who is she?’ he muttered.
‘A fan,’ his fellow player replied. ‘Sends me a new filthy photo every week. Nice pair of bazangers, right?’
‘Better not let your wife see ’em.’
‘My wife wouldn’t give a fast shit.
‘Watch it,’ Taye warned.
‘C’mon, mate,’ his teammate said with a knowing chuckle. ‘Everyone an’ their dog knows Ashley’s got you by the bo-jangles.’
‘Do me a favour an’ give it a rest,’ Taye mumbled, glaring at him.
‘Go have a wank,’ his teammate sniggered. ‘Looks like you need one.’
Mammoth was definitely on course. Taye made it into the men’s toilet, locked himself in a stall, and helped Mammoth do its thing.
Balls! This wouldn’t be happening if Ashley ever let him within ten feet of her precious pussy. She was depriving him of his conjugal rights, and that wasn’t fair. He needed sex. He craved sex, but what was a guy supposed to do when his wife’s thighs were locked together tighter than David Blaine’s handcuffs?
Fuck! It was a shitty situation.
He loved his wife, that was for sure. But did she honestly think that he was going to sit back and accept her once-a-month sex rule?
Bullshit. He was Taye Sherwin. Women lusted after him. They wrote him adoring and explicit letters, flooded his fan Facebook and Twitter, hung around outside every match hoping to get lucky. He could get laid twenty times a day if he so desired.
Things would have to change, and what better time and place to sort everything out than on the upcoming Kasianenko trip.
Yeah, it was confrontation time, and Taye was finally ready.
Chapter Fifteen
Xuan sent Flynn a terse text.
Flynn was pleased that Xuan had agreed to come with him on the trip. He found her company stimulating, and he had a feeling that Aleksandr would too. For once he had something to look forward to that didn’t involve work. It made a welcome change — he badly needed the break.
He’d first crossed paths with Aleksandr several years previously when he was in Moscow investigating a notorious criminal gang. The mastermind of the group, Boris Zukov, resided in a luxury apartment just outside Moscow with his French stripper girlfriend, who wasn’t averse to giving anonymous interviews in exchange for money to feed her secret drug habit. Flynn had a contact who put him in touch with her, and during the course of an extremely interesting and informative one-on-one, he’d discovered that apart from drugs and arms-running, there was a kidnap plot afoot to abduct one of Aleksandr Kasianenko’s three daughters for an enormous ransom. Six months previously, another rich man’s daughter had been kidnapped, and even though that ransom was paid, the child had ended up brutally murdered.
Flynn absorbed the information, and instead of going to the police, he’d done what he considered to be the right thing, and gone straight to Kasianenko. It was the smart thing to do, and it turned out to be a wise move, for the Russian oligarch had handled things in his own way and no kidnapping had taken place.
Twenty-four hours later, Boris Zukov had accidentally fallen to his death from a fourteenth-floor window in his tony apartment building.
Nobody seemed too concerned about the ‘accident’ — nobody except Boris’s younger brother, Sergei, who’d been outraged that the police had done nothing. It appeared that they didn’t care. To them, the death of Boris Zukov was a bonus. One less vicious criminal to deal with.
It occurred to Flynn that although Aleksandr was a legitimate businessman, he was also a man who knew how to take care of things in a
They’d met several times over the following years, and bonded as only two strong men can. Neither wanted anything from the other, and that suited them fine.
It had been a couple of years since they’d last got together, and Flynn was looking forward to seeing Aleksandr again. He still admired the man. Ruthless but honest. An interesting mix.
He’d been surprised when he’d read about Aleksandr hooking up with the famous super-model, Bianca, since he’d been under the impression that Aleksandr was a happily married man. Apparently things were different now.
The last time he’d seen him, the Russian had taken him to a fancy club around the corner from his hotel, and offered to buy him one of the gorgeous women lounging on bar stools and sitting at tables. The place was full of stunning women and very few men.
‘Is this a brothel?’ Flynn had asked, faintly amused.
Aleksandr had chuckled. ‘If it was, it would’ve been shut down years ago,’ he’d said. ‘This is a private club, and if a man should rent a room upstairs for the night, then it’s between him and the lady in question.’
Flynn had laughed. ‘I’ve never paid for it, and I’m not about to start now,’ he’d said. ‘But you go ahead.’
‘Me?’ Aleksandr had replied, stony-faced. ‘I am a happily married man, Flynn. I do not cheat. Too expensive. Too complicated.’
And now it wasn’t so complicated any more.
Spending half her life on a plane was nothing new for Xuan. Besides, she enjoyed flying. One of her unfulfilled ambitions was to take lessons and obtain her pilot’s licence. It was something she had promised herself she would do sometime in the future.
Martha, a Dutch woman who resided in Amsterdam, had offered Xuan anything she wanted if only she would give up travelling the world and move in with her. ‘Including flying lessons,’ Martha had promised.
‘When I am seventy-five,’ Xuan had joked.
Martha was fifty, divorced, affluent and attractive, with acceptable bedroom skills. Xuan was not tempted,
