Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  “Is this connected to the other business?” his contact asked.

  “No, this is something separate. I need you to find out where he’s living, in or around Cowes. Once you do, get in there, find the safe, and bring me a video and any still pictures featuring this woman.” Jack stared directly at Claire, his eyes diamond-hard as he described her appearance, right down to the size of her tits and the diamond stud in her pierced navel. Claire flushed an angry red and averted her gaze.

  “Covert?”

  “Yes. I don’t want the mark to know you’ve been in there until he opens the safe and finds the video missing. Hopefully that won’t happen for a day or two.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Colin had just finished the final coaching session of the day and was tidying up his storeroom when someone came in without knocking. He turned around and wasn’t surprised to see Sheila close the door and lean against it, arms folded beneath her rather impressive tits. He was sure it was no accident that the action pushed them together and made the nipples stand out. Colin knew exactly what she wanted, wondering when women had become so dominant and felt the need to make the first move. It spoiled it for him when they made it too easy. Still, gift horses and all that.

  “Something I can do for you, Sheila?”

  “I think it’s more a case of what I can do for you.”

  Colin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Really? What do you have in mind?”

  She walked up to him and ran a finger slowly down his chest. “I saw you looking at me on court today.”

  Suddenly Colin couldn’t be bothered to play games. He was tired but needed to cultivate Sheila, which was why he’d been giving her the come-on all the afternoon. She was influential here at the club and could be a useful person to have in his corner. Besides, married to Gordon, she must be desperate for it. She’d be a pushover, so he might as well give her what she wanted here and now. He pulled her against him and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue down her throat. His hands crept beneath her tennis skirt and closed tightly around her buttocks.

  “Turn around!”

  She almost tripped over her own feet in her haste to oblige. Sheila was hardly an oil painting, but then he didn’t have to look at her face over the breakfast table. Anyway, it wasn’t her face that interested him right now. He unhooked her bra and explored the tits which fell into his hands as she leaned over the bench in front of her. Yeah, not bad. Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen had always been Colin’s mantra and he saw no reason to change a winning formula. He unzipped, ripped her panties aside, and slid straight into her from behind. No finesse, no foreplay, just plain, hard shagging was what got Colin off. That and the power he wielded over his conquests, who seldom objected to his methods.

  “Colin, a condom,” she said breathlessly.

  Colin thrust a little deeper. “This is what you came in here for, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. I don’t do condoms, they spoil it. Do you want me to stop?”

  Just as he’d known she would, Sheila stopped harping and pushed back against him, writhing as she encouraged him to thrust deeper still.

  “I knew you wanted me. I could tell by the way you looked at me.”

  Colin did roll his eyes this time. “When did you last have it in a storeroom?” he asked. “Bit of a come-down, isn’t it?”

  She chuckled. “You’re talking to a daughter of the infamous nineteen-seventy Island Rock Festival. Six hundred thousand people stoned out of their minds wandering all over Afton Down and doing whatever they felt. Free love and all that. They were wild times. And so was I.”

  “What, a well brought up girl like you mixing it with the dregs?” Colin was so surprised that he almost lost his rhythm.

  She chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. Us well brought up girls were the worst.” She pushed back hard and let out a series of guttural moans. “God, that’s so good. It’s been so long.” His phone rang. “Not now,” she complained. “Ignore it!”

  Colin never ignored his phone. Especially not when a woman told him to. He checked the display but didn’t recognize the number.

  “Colin Palmer, how can I help you?”

  “Perhaps it’s rather more a case of how I can help you,” responded a voice that Colin didn’t recognize.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Palmer. One which will be to your financial advantage. I wonder if we could meet and discuss the matter in more detail.”

  “Sure.” Colin had no idea who this man was or what he wanted and it would probably be a huge waste of time. But, ever on the lookout for an easy score, he knew better than to turn him down out of hand. He pulled out of Sheila, ignoring her protests as he pushed her down to her knees in front of him and slipped his cock into her mouth. “But perhaps you’d like to give me some idea what it’s all about first.”

  “Not on the phone, Mr. Palmer. But if you’ve finished work for the day, perhaps you’d care to meet me in the Woodvale at Gurnard for a drink?”

  “What, now?”

  “If it’s convenient.”

  “Just give me time to finish what I’m doing and have a shower. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He had barely hung up before he spluttered to a climax at the back of Sheila’s throat.

  “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll catch you another time.”

  “Hey, what about me, I didn’t—”

  “Sorry, I don’t have time.”

  Sheila glowered at him. “It’s not a good idea to get on the wrong side of me, Colin.”

  “Later.” He ignored her veiled threat, zipped his shorts, and walked away without a backward glance, knowing he’d left her frustrated and aching for more. “Make sure the door locks behind you.”

  Colin had forgotten to ask the man his name, or even what he looked like. When he arrived at the bar, it and the surrounding garden was packed with a combination of holidaymakers and the usual mix of locals. Standing in the doorway, Colin scanned the terrace and bar for a lone male, not immediately seeing anyone who fit the bill. Then a tall black man stood up at a distant inner table and attracted his attention. Colin fought his way through the throng and eventually reached his side.

  “Mr. Palmer,” he said, extending a hand. “Paul Aston. Thank you for being so prompt. What would you like to drink?”

  “A small beer would hit the spot, thanks.”

  “I’ll just be a moment, if you’d excuse me.”

  Aston returned with Colin’s drink and responded to his efforts at small talk in monosyllables, his eyes all the while concentrated upon his guest as though summing him up. Used to being the one in control, Colin found those cold grey eyes trained upon him unnerving. Did the man never blink? He toyed with the drip mat in front of him, which gave him something to do with his hands as he withstood the scrutiny, regretting his decision to come here when he could still be ravishing the obliging Sheila.

  “We have an acquaintance in common at Porchfield Club, I believe,” Aston said, relieving Colin by getting to the point at last.

  “Oh yeah? Who’s that, then?”

  “Ed Brady.”

  “Ah.”

  “Can I rely upon your discretion? Mr. Brady assures me that you’re trustworthy. If I tell you something in confidence, can you assure me that it will go no further?”

  “Sure.” Colin was intrigued. Whatever angle Aston was working, Colin already wanted some of the action. “Being a tennis coach is a bit like being a priest. You’d be astonished at the sorts of things people tell me in confidence. I wouldn’t stay in business for long if I didn’t know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Good, because if any word of this leaks out I’ll know where it came from, and I think it only fair to warn you that I’m not the sort of man it would be healthy for you to cross.” A chill ran down Colin’s spine as he took in the steely set to Asto
n’s features. He hadn’t raised his voice or issued any direct threats, but Colin immediately got the message. “Even if you choose not to accept my proposition, I’m relying on your ability to keep quiet.” Aston fixed those chilly eyes on him again. “Now, do you wish to walk away without hearing what I have to say, in which case I wish you the best of luck with your coaching career, or would you like to know more?”

  “Please!” Colin spread his hands, palms upward. “Tell me what it is you want from me. I’m well able to keep a secret.”

  “Very well.”

  Succinctly Aston outlined the terms of his partnership with Ed, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard by the people at adjoining tables. A low whistle escaped Colin’s lips when Aston finished talking.

  “No wonder he was so keen to take control of the club.”

  “Exactly! We have plans ready to submit to the council and are confident they’ll be approved without too much difficulty.”

  “Really? I thought they’d tightened up on that sort of thing recently.”

  “There are still ways, but that’s not something you need to concern yourself with. Suffice it to say that we have contacts in all the right places.”

  Colin grinned. He was glad he’d given in to the impulse to meet Aston. “So how can I help you push your project along?”

  “The development we have in mind will be very high class. We’re planning full leisure facilities, including two tennis courts, indoor and outdoor pools, a fully equipped gym, beauty parlor, etc. We’ll need a manager for those facilities who will enjoy complete autonomy over the operation. The salary we’ll be offering to the right candidate will naturally reflect that person’s qualifications and local knowledge, not to mention his loyalty to the developers in the early days of the project.”

  “And you’d like me to consider it, is that what you’re saying?” Colin knew he ought to play it cool but couldn’t help his eyes glinting at the prospect. His very own leisure center, where he need answer to no one. “Who do I have to kill?”

  “That won’t be necessary.” For the first time, Aston flashed the ghost of a smile. “At least, not at the moment. What I require from you is something a little more subtle.” He reached to his side and delved into a leather briefcase at his feet, produced a bulging envelope and slipped it across the table to Colin. “There’s five thousand pounds in cash in there and it’s yours. A down payment for your services.”

  “What services? I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “You’re taking a party from Porchfield to Bisham Abbey this coming weekend, I understand.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Colin frowned. He had no idea where this was going but slipped the envelope with the cash in it into his front pocket, making it more difficult for Aston to decide he’d made a mistake and ask for it back.

  “Ed will be talking to the members during the weekend, sounding them out in respect of voting in favor of the development.”

  “Ah yes, I can see it would be a good opportunity to bend their ears.”

  “Exactly, and naturally we’ll make it financially worth the while of those who choose to support us.”

  “And you want me to put my support behind Ed?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’d be glad to, but I’m not a shareholder myself, you realize.”

  “That’s not important. What counts is your ability to persuade. You’re a good looking man, Mr. Palmer. Use that to your advantage to persuade the ladies. They, in turn, will work on their men.” Aston shrugged. “That’s the way the world works.”

  “A lot of the members seem to be on tight budgets.” Colin smirked. “Either that or they’re just naturally tight, so your financial incentives ought to hit the spot with those having difficulties. They’re as snooty as hell, a lot of them, but don’t seem to have a lot of ready cash to support their lifestyles. I reckon if we sell the idea properly they’ll jump at the chance of taking your money and scampering.”

  “Exactly. I can see you and I are already thinking along the same lines. Do I take it you’re prepared to help?”

  “Sure, I’ll do what I can.” But Colin still didn’t think it was much in return for five thousand quid and wondered what else Aston had in mind for him. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  “Are the Porterhouses going to Bisham Abbey?”

  “Yes, but Joe can’t get there until Saturday.”

  “Excellent. Things couldn’t be better. What do you think of Mrs. Porterhouse?”

  Colin grinned. “Since you ask, I think that she’s a prime piece of arse!”

  “I’m glad you think so. That’ll make your other assignment more pleasurable.” Aston took a swig of the drink he’d so far not touched and once again held Colin’s gaze. “On Friday evening, I want you to call upon Mrs. Porterhouse and deliver a message from me. Make sure you do it on Friday evening and try to catch her when she’s dressing for dinner. She’s more likely to be on her own then.”

  “All right. What sort of message?”

  “I’ve been grooming Mrs. Porterhouse to persuade her set to vote in favor of selling, but she’s trying to renege on our agreement.” He leaned back in his chair, the only outward indication that he was annoyed with Claire a slight tightening of his jaw. “As I told you earlier, I don’t care for people who go back on their word, so I want you to tell the lovely Claire that I still have the original.”

  “Original what?” Colin asked.

  “That doesn’t concern you. She’ll know what I mean. Tell her I’m counting on her to do the right thing. But make sure you don’t let Mr. Brady know what you’re about. He’s unaware of my arrangement with Mrs. Porterhouse and I’d like it to remain that way.”

  “No sweat.”

  “And after that, Mr. Palmer,” Aston said, picking up his briefcase and standing, “you may do with Mrs. Porterhouse whatever you wish. I doubt that she’ll put up much resistance and, trust me,” he added, flashing a brief smile, “she doesn’t disappoint.”

  “He’s living in a rented house in Northwood,” Jack’s contact informed him two days after he’d asked him to find Paul Aston’s address.

  “Any problems getting in?”

  “Nah, but there’s no safe in the place.”

  “Shit!” Jack had been getting ready for the drive to Bisham Abbey when the phone rang. He stopped throwing things into the bag that was open on his bed and gave the telephone conversation his full attention. “Any ideas where he might have hidden the goods then?” He didn’t insult his contact’s professional integrity by asking if he was sure about there not being a safe.

  “Not offhand, but they ain’t in that house. It’s a two-bedroom place and he lives like a fucking monk, everything tidy and in its place, no clutter.” A pause, presumably for emphasis. “And definitely no safe.”

  Disquieting thoughts tumbled through Jack’s head. “Was there a computer?”

  “No, but there was an empty laptop bag. Aston carries a large briefcase with him everywhere he goes. I reckon he keeps the laptop in there.”

  “Very likely.”

  “There was a digital video camera in the flat, though.”

  “Anything on it?”

  “No, but I figured that perhaps the material you wanted might have been recorded digitally and then burned onto a cd.”

  “Good thinking. Any cd’s in the flat?”

  “Yeah, and we checked them all. The guy’s got lousy taste in music as well. Madonna and Blur, I ask you!” Jack chuckled. “We checked them all to be on the safe side, but they appear to be kosher.”

  “Yeah, that would have been too much to hope for, I suppose.”

  “The material you want wasn’t in the house at the same time we were,” said the contact emphatically. “So what do you want us to do now?”

  “Would you be able to get hold of that briefcase?”

  “Tricky. He keeps it close at all times, but yeah, we should be able to nab it.”

  “Okay. I nee
d to talk to someone about this. I’ll call you back.”

  Jack hung up and immediately called Angela at the salon. Fortunately it was she who answered the phone. Succinctly he relayed the news he’d just received.

  “Are you sure they would have videoed the action?”

  “Well, that’s how they always used to do it.”

  “Yeah, but you’re talking quite a lot of years ago. Things have moved on since then. Was there a video in the bag Aston gave you to give to Claire?”

  “I don’t know. To be honest, I didn’t look because I didn’t want to see any of the stills. I simply gave the bag to Claire without opening it.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to ask her then.”

  “She won’t know either. I watched her burn it without looking inside.”

  “Okay, then we’ll just have to go with our instincts. If there’s no safe in Aston’s house my guess is that he’s got a copy of the film on his laptop and has possibly burned it onto CDs as well, and that everything he does have on Claire is in his briefcase.” Jack paused. “Unless he’s being ultra-cautious. I suppose he could have taken a safety deposit box somewhere and stashed the lot in there.”

  “I doubt he would have done that. He’s never had a very high opinion of banks.”

  “All right, love, leave it with me. I was hoping we’d have everything tidied up before going off to Bisham Abbey, but that ain’t gonna happen so we’ll just have to wing it.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Jack could hear the tremor in her voice. “Don’t worry, love. I’ve got plans of my own to get the better of Ed, which I’ll tell you about on the drive up. By the time Aston hears what we’ve done, I should have all the stuff in my possession and he’ll be able to do sod-all about it.”

  Jack rang his contact back immediately and told him to get hold of the briefcase as soon as he possibly could.