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"To pleasure!"

"To pleasure," they murmured.

She gestured at the two armchairs, and sat back herself on the settee. "To be perfect," she said,

"pleasure has to be prepared. We're going to spend this one night together and never see each

other again. That is part of the pleasure. There are no consequences."

She looked at Massimo. "Have you and your brother ever made love to one woman together?"

His tongue moved over dry lips as he shook his head. She turned to the younger brother. "How

would you go about it, Bruno?"

He took a sip of his wine. He glanced at his brother and answered: "Perhaps we should take it

in turns."

She lifted her head and laughed. "How boring! Since you have so little experience, I shall be the

choreographer tonight. We will make a dance to remember. And at the end of it, the moment of

pure pleasure will come at the same time for all of us. You'll be guided by me. You'll do exactly

what I tell you. If you fail to do that, the evening will end immediately, and I'll go and look for

men who are truly men. In my experience only a real man has the capacity to be guided in

pleasure by a woman. If you were not here at this moment, you would be out with a couple of

whores, instructing them to your own desires. This will not be like that. Tonight you'll discover

the reality of pleasure."

She drained her glass and in one flowing movement stood up, reached behind her and unzipped

her dress. The silk fell to her ankles. She allowed them to look at her naked body for half a

minute, then she said: "Follow me."

And she walked into the bedroom.

There were candles on every flat surface and the air was filled with the scent of musk and

incense. She pointed to the foot of the bed.

"Massimo, sit there. You'll watch and do nothing."

She turned to Bruno. "Take off all your clothes."

She eased herself onto the bed and pushed the pillows high behind her head. They did as

instructed. Bruno had a thin, wiry body with thick black hair on his chest and his arms. He

already had an erection. She patted the bed beside her and he moved and lay down. She took his

penis in her left hand while her eyes were fixed on his brother at the end of the bed. She said:

"When I was eighteen years old, I was a student in Paris. I decided that it was important for a

woman of my nature to have certain skills. I conferred with my mother and she agreed. She hired

the most famous call-girl in Paris to teach me those skills. I have two degrees from the Sorbonne

University, in languages and philosophy. But I have a more important degree from a lady called

Lucette. Let me show you, Massimo."

She leant over and ran her tongue from Bruno's chin down his chest and stomach, and took his

penis into her mouth. It was large and long. Very slowly, she took it all in her mouth, deeper and

deeper, until her lips were touching his scrotum. Bruno moaned in his throat while his elder

brother looked on in disbelief. She lifted her head and looked again at Massimo.

"Be patient," she said. "You'll have your turn."

She turned her attention back to Bruno's penis and ten seconds later pulled away as he

ejaculated and rolled over.

She laughed, again looking at Massimo. "He's just a boy," she said. "He's never had an orgasm

so quickly in his life." She patted Bruno on the bottom. "Go into the bathroom and take a cold

shower and then drink a glass of that good wine. You'll be ready again in half an hour.

Meanwhile, I'll play with your brother."

Massimo was older and wiser. As he stepped out of his clothes, he said: "It was a clever trick,

but I saw your right hand. It went between his buttocks and inside him. You massaged his

prostate gland. It's an old trick for a busy whore with a long line of customers."

She laughed in appreciation. "You have been to the East before," she said. "But it's a good thing

for a young man to learn the ways of the world. Your brother will not be so confident again. If

he had paid a thousand dollars for that experience, he would be disappointed now. Let's find

out how you handle things."

She lifted her hands and touched both her nipples. "The left one is more sensitive than the right.

I want you to start slowly, just with the tip of your tongue. Take your time. We have hours in

front of us."

He eased on to the bed and moved up along her body and tried to kiss her lips. She turned her

face away.

"The left nipple. That's where you start. The rest will come later."

Bruno came out of the bathroom towelling himself. His penis was flaccid. He stood and

watched his brother leaning over the woman. She was watching him, and her eyes dropped to his

penis. It was growing again.

"Go into the lounge," she said, "and drink some wine. You can watch from the door."

He remained standing there. Abruptly she grabbed Massimo's hair, pulled his head away from

her nipples and spat out the words: "Take your kid brother and get out of here! You know the

rules!"

Massimo pulled his head away and cursed his brother in Italian. Bruno scurried into the lounge.

"Let it be the last time!" Connie said. "Now I want your tongue inside me, very slowly and very

carefully."

Massimo lasted for fifteen minutes. Several times he tried to enter her, but each time she

stopped him with a single word. Finally she made him stand by the bed and she simply used her

hand while looking into his eyes. He tried to hold back but it wasn't possible. Bruno stood at the

bedroom door with a glass in his hand, watching mesmerized. The sperm came across her

breasts and she rubbed it into her skin, never taking her eyes away from Massimo's.

"That was the hors d'oeuvre," she said. "Now we will also take a glass of wine, and then we will

see if the combination of two brothers can do better than the single parts."

They were instruments and she was the player. She played on Bruno as though he were a drum,

while Massimo was a violin. She positioned them and used them. She used their hands, their

mouths and their penises. She knew exactly when they were about to have an orgasm, and each

time she stopped them, either with a sharp flick of her finger or a painful squeeze of their

testicles. They moaned and writhed while she laughed. They were unable to differentiate between

pleasure and pain. Finally she took a small bottle of scented oil from the bedside table. She gave

it to Massimo and then she straddled his younger brother and eased him inside her. She turned

and looked over her shoulder at the older brother.

"Put the oil on your penis," she said. "We're going to make a sandwich."

She felt the pain as he entered her from behind. Then she screamed with pleasure.

"We will not be going home tomorrow," Massimo said.

"Why not?" Bruno asked. They were standing in the bathroom.

"Look at your back," Massimo said, pointing at the mirror.

Bruno turned and looked, and saw the parallel scratches on his back and the blood oozing from

them.

"I have the same," Massimo said. "It'll take at least a week to heal. Our wives would not

understand if they saw those marks."

"I never felt anything," Bruno said.

"Neither did I, but we got clawed by a cat!"

Chapter 24

Susanna felt no fear. Probably because the whole operation was mounted in such a

matter-of-fact way. It was as though Creasy, Guido and The Owl were simply going about a

routine task. She sat beside The Owl in a rented Toyota van. They were stationary at the side of a

narrow road with the lights and engine turned off.

The Owl explained it to her. "Creasy is drinking in a bar two hundred metres behind us. In three

minutes, he'll leave that bar and walk down this road." He pointed to a narrow alley to the left.

"Guido is waiting in that alley. The follower will be behind Creasy, at about sixty metres. He will

be on this side of the road, because there is more light on the other side. Just before he gets to

the alley, I will jump out and shout something at him. He will turn, Guido will take him from

behind. We will put him in the back of the van, pick up Creasy and head out of town."

"That simple?" she asked.

"Yes, that simple. Guido is very fast. Even if the follower has a gun or a knife, he won't have

time to use them."

It was that simple. Three minutes later she watched Creasy amble down the road on the other

side from the van. A minute after that a small, dark figure passed them on the left-hand side. The

Owl was holding the door slightly ajar.

He jumped out and called: "Monsieur!"

The figure turned and, a second later, a dark shadow loomed up behind it. There was a dull

thump and then no sound at all until she heard the side door of the van slide shut. The Owl

jumped back into the front seat and casually turned the key. The van moved forward a hundred

metres and Creasy emerged from the shadows and also went into the back. The Owl turned off

onto To Doe Street and slowly drove out of town.

The journey lasted half an hour, and during that time Susanna's trepidation grew. She kept

recalling Creasy's words back at the hotel and tried to find comfort in them; but deep down she

knew that he and Guido and The Owl were very hard people. She hoped that the follower would

not be stupid. He must realize his position and talk.

They turned off onto a dirt track and slowly moved through heavy forest to the slow-moving

river. The Owl pulled up beside a small wooden jetty. There was an almost-full moon. As she

climbed out, she could hear the sounds of the forest: crickets chirping and birds calling in the

trees above them. As she walked around the van, the side door slid open. Creasy jumped out.

He turned and reached up and lifted the figure of the follower out of the van.

It was a very slight figure, dressed in black jeans and a dark-blue shirt. His arms and feet were

bound with black tape. He had a rope tied under his armpits and a large stone was tied to his

feet. His mouth was shut by a strip of tape. She could see the fear in his eyes. Guido also jumped

down, and together they carried the Vietnamese onto the small jetty. Susanna and The Owl

followed. She said to Creasy: "What are you going to do?"

He answered: "It's lucky we brought you along. He does not speak English. Tell him that in a

few minutes I'm going to ask him some questions. But first I'm going to give him a little

demonstration...Just to concentrate his mind." He nodded to Guido.

It happened very abruptly. Creasy took the end of the rope. Guido picked up the Vietnamese as

though he were a child, and dropped him into the river. Susanna started forward but The Owl

put an arm across her.

"Just wait," he said.

The Vietnamese disappeared under the water, dragged down by the weight of the stone.

Seconds ticked by. For Susanna, each one felt like an eternity. She started shouting at Creasy.

"For God's sake, he'll drown! What are you doing?!"

Creasy held up a hand. "Just wait," he said. He was looking at his watch.

Guido was looking at the angle of the rope. He said: "He's on the bottom. I guess one minute

will be enough."

"We'll make it two minutes," Creasy said. "Be ready to pump him out."

For Susanna, those two minutes felt like two months. She tried to move forward again, but The

Owl had both his arms around her. He was surprisingly strong.

Then Creasy and Guido were hauling up the rope. The Vietnamese came to the surface

shedding water, his whole body shuddering. They pulled him up onto the wooden planks.

Creasy ripped the tape from his mouth and pushed him onto his stomach. The water was

pouring from his nostrils. Very quickly Guido straddled him and placed the palms of his hands

on his back, then started to press rhythmically. Water poured out of his mouth and his body

shook as he coughed chokingly.

Creasy turned to Susanna. He had a plastic wallet in his hand. He opened it and said: "His name

is Tran Quock Cong. He's forty-three years old and has a wife and two young daughters. He

lives in Cholon. I want to know who hired him to follow us, and when."

Guido had picked up the Vietnamese, who was dragging air into his lungs. Creasy said to

Susanna: "First tell him that if he does not answer our questions, he will go back to the bottom

of the river. And that's where he will die."

It took a minute for her to compose herself. She felt hatred for Creasy and Guido, who loomed

like monsters over the frail Oriental.

"You said you wouldn't torture him, Creasy! What do you call that?!"

It was Guido who answered. "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. We gave him a shock

and a bath. I could break his arms and his legs and all his fingers and his toes, and pull out all his

teeth. Hopefully, that will not now be necessary. Pull yourself together and ask him the

questions."

"Fuck you!" she said, and turned away.

Before she even reached the end of the jetty, Creasy's voice stopped her.

"His life is in your hands. If I can't talk to him, I have to kill him. Otherwise, whoever sent him

will know that he's been compromised."

She turned. "Could you kill him, Creasy? How would you do it?"

"I'd strangle him and then drop him back in the river. This is no picnic, Susanna! Either talk to

him or wait in the van."

Slowly she walked back down the jetty, knowing that she would never look at Creasy or Guido

or The Owl with anything less than abhorrence. She was in the company of animals. Her one

thought now was to save a life.

The Vietnamese was on his feet, leaning back against Guido's chest. His eyes were dull. She

spoke to him in Vietnamese.

"You're in great danger. If you don't answer these men's questions, they'll certainly kill you!"