“How much is this one?” Souhi asked, picking up a Garmin GPS from the display.
The kiosk was in the Straw Market in Nassau, an outdoor market that mostly sold woven straw products that were “locally” produced even if many of them had “Made in China” stickers. However, besides the ubiquitous straw hats, donkeys, dolphins and every other conceivable shape, it also featured cheap T-shirt outlets, various souvenirs and, notably, a fair selection of boating gear. This particular shop specialized in navigation systems and had a pretty good selection of new and used on display.
“For you, two hundred,” the Pakistani shopkeeper said. “Very good model. State of the art.”
“Too much,” Souhi said, setting it down. “How about another?”
“This one is less,” the Pakistani said, shrugging and pulling out a cheaper model. “Not as nice. For you, since we are friends, one thirty.”
“I have a trade,” Souhi said, pulling out a similar model and setting it on the counter.
“You want my children to starve,” the Pakistani said, picking it up and keying it on. He sorted through the menu, then shrugged, tossing it carelessly on the counter. “I give you twenty dollars in trade. It is old and worn.” The device was practically brand new.
“Thirty,” Souhi said, picking up the new GPS. “One hundred even.”
“Done,” the Pakistani replied.
Souhi counted out the money in twenties and handed it over.
“My children will go hungry,” the Pakistani said, putting the cash in his box.
“But they will live to see wonderful things,” Souhi said, pocketing the new GPS.
“This is wonderful,” Katya said, looking around the stateroom.
The sun had set and the gathering had moved indoors. In Katya and Juan’s case, much farther indoors to his bedroom.
Katya was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only a string bikini patterned in the American flag, bouncing up and down and, frankly, jiggling.
“You are wonderful,” Juan said, somewhat thickly. He’d had quite a few body shots between tits and navel. Also a rather professional lap dance. “Do you know you look just like Britney Spears?”
“Before she shaved her head?” Katya asked, grinning. Damned right she knew she looked like the American tramp. She’d slid inserts into the pouches in her cheeks and done her makeup carefully. Juan’s weakness for blondes, and that one in particular, was part of his dossier.
“When she was younger,” Juan said, sitting down next to her. “You look very much like her.” He leaned over and pulled her bikini down. “I have always wanted to be sucked by Britney Spears.”
“Then you just make like I’m her, honey,” Katya said, whipping off the top and standing up. “I’m your Britney tonight, baby!” She swung the top around and wiggled her hips. “You want Live in Las Vegas or Baby Hit Me?”
“I wish you had a school girl outfit,” Juan said, panting as he dropped his pants. “Come here and suck me, you little slut. You know you want to.”
“Oh, yeah, baby!” Katya said, dropping to her knees.
The guy was flaccid from being so drunk but she could take care of that. She was also pretty sure that he wouldn’t notice the difference between one highly trained professional giving him a blow-job and the sort you usually got from college girls. On the other hand… Hey, that meant she didn’t have to give him a good blow. Excellent.
The position, however, gave her a chance to slip one of the bugs under the bed. As she slowly and somewhat inexpertly fellated him, she slipped one out and placed it. That’s two.
“Harder,” Juan said, grabbing her hair and pushing. “Faster!”
She kept her suction down but sped up. He wasn’t coming this way. She wanted him to keep her around, though, so she’d have to figure out something.
“My jaw’s sore,” she said, pulling back. “Lemme get on top.”
She pushed him back on the bed and pulled off her bottom, then slid his still slightly flaccid member into place.
“Touch these,” she said, bringing his hands up to her breasts as she pumped up and down. “You’re fucking Britney now, babe!”
“Sing to me…” Juan panted. “I want it all…”
Katya started singing one of the vocalist’s better known songs, trying like hell to remember the words. One of the harem girls was a big fan but Katya didn’t really care about music. She hummed through most of it. All she could really remember was the chorus because it pissed her off so badly. She’d been smacked around enough in her time.
“I want to fuck your ass off,” Juan said, rolling her over. “Little slut!”
Then he hit her. Hard. A solid slap on the face. Katya hadn’t been expecting it and it nearly broke her out of cover. Her first response was to sink her fingernails into him and start pumping the bastard full of poison. But that would truly fuck the mission. It took her a moment to figure out the response that some American college girl in the same situation would have. In the meantime, he’d backhanded her as well, cursing the singer all the time.
“Ow!” Katya said, raising her arms. If he’d been a pimp, if she was in her usual cover as a whore, she would have just taken it. But that was the wrong response for her current cover. “Wait! Stop!” she pleaded. Damn, why was she always getting hit?
“Little ass-shaking bitch!” Juan shouted, slapping at her again. “This is what you deserve!”
“Please stop!” Katya whined. She had to dig deep for that act. She hadn’t begged since she was… She really didn’t want to go there.
Finally he came and pulled out almost immediately.
“I like you,” Juan said, pulling her up by her hair. “You’re going to stick around.”
“I just want to leave,” Katya said. “Please…”
“Just try,” the Colombian replied. “You’re going to stick around. And you’re going to make yourself up just the same way. You’re going to be my Britney and I’m going to fuck your ass off. I’m going to fuck your ass. And you’d better learn to suck better, too. You’ll go when I tell you to. You’ll call your parents when I tell you to. And you’ll tell them you’re having a great time. Or you won’t be going home. You got that?” He shoved her back onto the bed, releasing her hair. “Little party sluts like you, they get what they deserve.”
“Please,” Katya pleaded, tears in her eyes. The fucker was, some of them were real. It was the surprise. Now that she knew what was coming, she’d be able to handle it.
“Yeah, you go on begging,” Juan said, pulling on his pants. “Just like that little bitch should beg.”
After he’d left, Katya got up and shuffled to the bathroom of the suite, got a towel to control the drips and went back to the bed. She lay down on her side, still sniffling although tears were, finally, fake, and fumed.
This motherfucker was purely going to die. But first she was going to fuck him over. Big time. And before he died she’d make sure he knew it. Just before he died.
“Hello, Gloria, is Daria, how are you?”
Gloria Chatham shook her head. They’d just done a charter for the Kildar. Two big planes. Now Daria was calling again.
“Hello, Daria,” Gloria said. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“Very well,” Daria said. “I am in Bahamas. You know Bahamas?”
“I do,” Gloria said. “I wish I was in the Bahamas.”
“Well, perhaps you can get time off, come down with plane,” Daria said. “Kildar is needing Gulfstream. Two weeks at minimum. May be longer. Two crews. You have?”