However, Khalid had taken a lot of convincing to risk his organization's money on such a venture, and the blitzkrieg nature of the move made it nearly impossible to do any long-term planning. al-Mazkum's total trust and optimism had to be cultivated, and Sid had been a trifle premature is promising the Arab a chance to have sex with DesirЋe Denning, after bragging about how he had done it before. Khalid had seen her picture and had instant palpitations, not alleviated by the knowledge that she was still shy of her twenty-first birthday nor by Sid's detailed descriptions of her physical charms and musical abilities.
Now it appeared that, with the help of the sangria, if he was terribly clever, Sid could deliver on his promise to the Arab and vent his own burning lust that had been crackling inside him since he had last seen her. He had devised this pretext to have Mark here and had been disappointed that his little bride had not accompanied him, had even curried favor by prematurely advancing a half million dollars for the young politician's campaign fund.
"Yes, our deal."
al-Mazkum was still smiling as Buchanan led him to a small room adjoining his study, where the young woman was now waiting for his consoling attention. Sid pointed at the door.
"In there, on the computer, is a list of our targets, ready for emailing to my buyer in the morning." Sid smiled broadly, and repeated, "In there, on my computer, the business that will make us richer than the Sultan of Brunei, and…"
"And?"
"DesirЋe," Buchanan said quietly, feeling a bit unhappy at having to share the blonde angel with this Arab, whom he liked very little in spite of everything they were planning together.
"Tell me more," al-Mazkum said, suddenly very interested. He was almost as much of a swinger as Buchanan was, going after women whenever he could get a chance of avoiding his steely-eyed wife. Christ, just the idea of nailing the tender little pussy of straight-laced Mark Denning's wife made his cock tingle with lewd preparations. "What are you going to do, feed her Spanish fly?"
Buchanan shook his head and lifted the bourbon bottle. "Not this time. Just this… and the old Sid Buchanan touch, heh, heh. Now listen, Khalid. I'm going in there to talk to her, see. She's already there, waiting for me."
"Ya Allah, I'd have never believed it," al-Mazkum said in new-found awe of his partner. "Waiting for you, no less."
"Right, and I can't keep her waiting for long, heh, heh. In about fifteen minutes, you sneak in very quietly. I think you might get a little view well worth your trouble, heh, heh."
"Yeah, but what about my…"
"Your turn? Have to play that by ear." Buchanan turned to enter the book-lined, walnut paneled room. "Keep the light out in here until I've got her where you want her…"
"Sid…" al-Mazkum was licking his thick lips, a gleam in his eyes.
Buchanan was by the door. "Yes?"
"You set it up so that I can fuck that DesirЋe Denning, and I'll send you three beautiful whores from my friend's harem." That young beauty with all her wide-eyed aura of virginity had been on his mind a long time. And now… if Buchanan could, well by God, no price was too high. "Hear me? I'll raise it, Sid."
Buchanan chuckled obscenely. "Worry about raising that cock of yours, then. DesirЋe Denning is going to get screwed like she's never been screwed before!"
He walked quietly to the door, eagerness already swelling his testicles, bloating them with the sperm he was going to pour into that tight, hardly touched cunt of Mark Denning's young wife. This was going to be great, he gloated to himself, a piece of the finest tail in the state, and would make Khalid al-Mazkum dump a fortune into his investment company.
Now all he had to do was to play his cards right…
CHAPTER SEVEN
DesirЋe Denning slumped on the couch, shuddering as she sat in the cozy quiet of the study. She cried plaintively, weeping her tortured emotions into her palms as if her heart would break. The sangria she had consumed to dull her sensitivities had, if anything, only loosened the barriers holding back her tears, and now, fully surrendered to the alcohol, she allowed her pent-up emotions release – again.
She had purged her soul once, to Helen Buchanan… but the intervening hours had once more built the raging storm of her torment to cyclone proportions. It had brought her, upset, to this party, had been the leading cause of her not eating and then of drinking heavily – and was, with the help of the potent sangria, completely controlling her mind. She was nearly delirious, almost psychotically hysterical, and there wasn't even the sanity of sobriety to fall back upon.
Her only prayer, her only hope was Sid Buchanan – or so her benumbed mind thought. The one thing that had kept her from dashing out of the house and fleeing – but to where? Anywhere – so long as it was far, far away. But there were the comforting words that Sid Buchanan would help her. Perhaps if she hadn't imbibed the sangria so heavily, if she didn't have a head spinning so madly, she might have considered that it had been Sid's opening words Helen told me about the black sheriff, that had sent her into such a mental and emotional tailspin.
As it was, when her husband's associate opened the other door to the study and sat down beside her, she looked upon him almost as a savior, an angel who could save her from the consequences of her reprehensible actions.
"Thank God, Sid," the pretty young housewife moaned. "I was afraid you weren't going to come." She started crying again.
"Everything will be all right, DesirЋe," Buchanan said, and he put his arm around her, as a father might his errant daughter. "Of course I was going to come. You don't think I'd let you be like this, do you? So upset and all."
She leaned against him, clutching to him for dear life. "It… it was terrible, Sid," she blurted. "I… I went with them to meet Mark… they said he'd had an accident…" and she went on to pour forth the total story of her humiliation by the two young men and then what she had had to do to avert a disaster when Clete had showed up, breaking into sobs of agony frequently.
As she talked, Sid was only half listening. He knew the story already, had Helen repeat it to him until he knew every detail. Instead, he was looking at the comfortable couch they sat on now. Plenty of room here for fucking, plenty of room. He had used it often enough, when Helen had knowingly and obligingly turned her back.
He took down a bottle of pernod and poured some into a glass. "Here, DesirЋe. Take a swallow. It'll help."
She took it gratefully and drank heavily. The liquor burned a path to her stomach, but she was too wrought up and too drunk to notice. She drank again, came up for air and continued telling her story.
"Then… they made me sit on his lap and the other one… he did it to me from behind… in my… my… I've never done that even with my husband before… and then they changed positions. Oh, Sid, it was just awful," she sobbed.
He interrupted her with an urging to take another swallow, which she did, and then he said: "Would you like to lie down, take a rest? Wouldn't that be better?"
"Yes…" The combination of the sangria, pernod, and her now purged soul had made her lethargic, dazed, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Her muscles seemed to be plastic and her bones like sawdust. "But I don't want to go back out there yet, Sid, not until you tell me about what you can do for us… I need your help…"
Her voice was slightly slurred and thick, as though her mouth was full of pebbles – or she had taken too much liquor and was pretty drunk. The great manipulator smiled and said, "You can stretch out on the couch if you like."
DesirЋe looked up from Sid's chest. "That would be nice," she replied dreamily. "Help me…"
Sid Buchanan did, his cock hardening into a throbbing beast as he carefully helped Mark Denning's wife to lie back on the couch. Her motions were a bit jerky and fumbling; but she wasn't falling down drunk, and he hoped she wasn't too present of mind to turn this situation against his plans. She sprawled on the soft fabric of the couch, not minding or even being aware that her short dress had slipped up around her panties. Buchanan sucked in his breath as he saw the thinly covered pubic mound become exposed… then he squeezed onto the couch with her, and the two of them lay side by side on the warm, padded surface, and he placed his hands around her and held her to him.