She collapsed then, her firm young body drained of everything, her limbs loosely spread on the sofa as Reg Fields' grip was released, and he rolled his flabby bulk awkwardly off her. She lay spread-eagled as she felt his heavy weight lift from her and free air flowed over her sweat-soaked skin and she felt too tired to move a muscle. Sid's voice spoke in the distance as she faded into a peaceful doze.
"What about her husband?" Reg asked, as he began to dress.
"I don't think she'll tell him," Buchanan chuckled as he peered in at the comatose young wife of his new captive politician. "He'll never know. Take my word for it. She won't ever spill what happened to her tonight. We'll tell old Mark-boy that his little darling had too much to drink and fell asleep. True enough; we just won't add about the part in between the too much to drink and the falling asleep. He'll take her up to bed and maybe fuck her for sloppy fourths. Now, come on."
"You son of a bitch, Sid," al-Mazkum said approvingly, reaching for a leg of the piteous, spent little wife, lifting it so he could catch a look of her cute little vagina, it's matted, swampy curls, and the stream of white cream that ran out of it. "You earned my support tonight for your plans. Don't worry, after fucking this sweet little woman, you've got my unending support."
"Mine too," Fields said.
"Good," Sid said. "While she's pooped out there, let me show you what I've got. Come over here to the computer." Buchanan, not a good typist, used one finger to slowly type his password into the computer.
The Arab sat at one of the chairs while the fat man stood behind him, and in the dark the three men looked at the screen of the VDU.
"You know that I know what I'm doing," Sid said. "Remember, I showed you last week when I made you a quick three million on that one lone deal. As I told you, I've got a whole batch of bigger and better deals right here. I've been working on this list for years. Now we're ready to spring the trap tomorrow. Well, I told you about all that."
"Yes, it sounded very interesting."
"So, I've got it all laid out in this email, which I send tomorrow. My brokerage firm makes the buys at three, and the stock markets are closed for the weekend before anyone can figure out what we're doing and move against us. By Monday, we'll own and control so much, they won't be able to stop us. We triple our money and keep buying."
Khalid al-Mazkum nodded. He had heard it all before and tested the theory. The risk was minimal because of the inside information Buchanan had from his jackals and the size of the investment meant huge rewards. He looked at the open window with the line-up of companies and the number of shares that would be bought.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing to an icon.
"Oh, that's volatilities," Buchanan answered. "Very risky. I've got inside information on them as well. To be avoided at all costs right now. If you bet on them to go up five ticks, and they do, then you can make money, but these are going down. They're especially dangerous right now because – and I've got inside information on this – something it going to happen to wreck their stocks. Kaflooey. So we steer clear of these. This other one here is the list of buys I'm emailing in the morning."
Khalid turned toward the girl. "She is very beautiful. I'd like to fuck her again sometime."
Buchanan smiled. "You'll have plenty of opportunity when we get her husband into the government and we're controlling him and dozens of other politicians. Her father is a rich lawyer, but we'll have enough to buy him a million times over. But we'd better leave her little cunt to rest. It's had a hell of a workout today."
The Arab looked down at the sleeping girl, to her pale-haired vagina leaking a stream of white sperm onto the expensive sofa. "Should we dress her, cover her up?"
"Hell, no, leave her to cool off. Leave the little slut to dress herself. We'd better get back to the party."
And the three sexually satisfied men went back to their wives and the dancing.
After the men had left her lewdly exposed and used, lying on the couch, DesirЋe opened her eyes and began to sob. Little slut! Little slut? She had been used and abused all day long by men, and she felt betrayed and angry. Buchanan had never been her friend, had never wanted to help her, and minutes before, as he had held himself over her sliding his cock so pleasurably up and down in the warm, vulnerable sleeve of her vagina, the memory of doing it with him last week had come back to her, strangely forgotten yet now magically remembered. He had fucked her, slithered into her bed and her body, while Mark was lying unconscious beside her. Had told her that he hoped to make her pregnant so that she would have his baby. It was all clear in her mind now, and how she had forgotten, and how she had trusted him tonight, she did not know.
Her body had glowed, burned, seethed with joy as he had plunged his cock back and forth in her traitorous vagina, but now she hated him, for he had once again induced her to be unfaithful to Mark. She could trust no one, it seemed. She longed now to be with Mark, but she had lost track of him tonight and ended up doing filthy things with three men on this couch in the study.
For too long she had been meek and ladylike, benevolent and unselfish, and men had just taken advantage of her and what appeared to be a terrible weakness in her personality, that of desire to be made love to. Well, it was time to get even. Yes, to get even with Buchanan, for he had taken advantage of her trust and passed her off as a toy to that disgusting Arab and the other man.
But she had an idea for revenge, which Buchanan himself had just now shown her.
Still completely naked, she went to the desk and looked at the computer's monitor. She opened the two files that the men had been talking about, the Big Deal file and the other, the volatility file that Sid had said listed issues that were to be avoided. She opened the word processor and made a new file, a swap file, switching the information so that the two files ended up containing the information for the other. She did some altering of numbers on the Big Deal file so that they reflected a similar number of contracts that it had for the other issues. Then she saved and closed them.
That ought to ruin his whole day, at least throw his deal behind schedule so that it could not be completed before the weekend.
DesirЋe felt the Arab's, or was it Sid's, semen leaking from her vagina and used a tissue from a box on the desk to mop it up. She wanted a shower, but first she wanted to find out where Mark was. She missed him so much. She loved him with all her heart and she hoped that someday he would forgive her for what she had done out of weakness. What she had done to Buchanan's files would cause the Great Manipulator some trouble, however, there was still Clete and the other two vile men to deal with, and that would take some thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Priscilla watched Lightning paw the ground and give a tug at the reins, which she had tied to a branch, while she carried on with her target practice. She didn't know why she was so obsessed with practicing hitting little beer cans when she would only need to hit a warm body from a few feet away. Yes, five or six shots into DesirЋe's vitals at point blank would put her well and painfully out of the picture, so why was she going through five boxes of fifty practicing? She supposed it calmed her, but the noise was doing nothing for Lightning, who was excitable at best.
The girl kicked the empty boxes aside and holstered her weapon. She already knew where she was going to do it and how, and she had the grave already dug, ironically on the southeast corner of the Mitchell property. If they ever found the body, it would not be on Devereaux land.
She had done some investigating about guns and ballistics. She knew that to keep her gun from being linked to the killing, she had only to remove the barrel, clamp it in a vise and twist it off with a crowbar or something, just a very small thing to have to bury deep somewhere in the great outdoors. Of course, a shotgun was untraceable and would make a real nice mess, but it was much too large to conceal, if anyone should see her before the act that would expunge DesirЋe from the landscape of Priscilla's future with Mark Denning.