by Ami Snow
THE END
Love for the Gold Digger
Fascination Publishing
BDSM
By: Amanda Bolton
Gold Digger Fascination
“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Phillips but Captain Burke is asking permission to come back and have a private word with you if it is okay?” I sit up in my armchair and open my eyes to look at my pretty stewardess. This is only her second flight in my Gulfstream Private Jet but already she has proved efficient and reliable. “Thank you Stephanie, please tell Alan to come on back, I will see him now.” As the girl goes forward to the flight deck to deliver my message I bring my chair to the vertical position and locate my glasses in the drawer of my computer desk where I had placed them before nodding off over the China Sea a few hours earlier. We are on an unscheduled flight to Darwin in the Northern Territory of Australia where I have an appointment with two part Australian Aboriginal women who are gaining a worldwide reputation among the rich and famous for providing a unique service for those of us poor wretches who have specific requirements when engaging in sexual practices. A fellow billionaire gave me the tip in a board meeting in Beijing a couple of days previously and called my security chief and asked him to set up a date for me to visit them. When he got back to me an hour later it was only to inform me that they were fully booked for twelve months. Bitterly disappointed I instructed him to call them back and offer to double or treble their normal fee, in fact I gave him carte blanche to use any means at his disposal to secure me a meeting. He did so and we are heading their now, should land in Darwin in another three hours, I can hardly control my eager anticipation. “Sorry about this Mr. Phillips but the matter is urgent.” I look up to see my Flight Captain, Alan Burke, standing alongside me. “That’s quite alright Captain, what seems to be the problem? Please take a seat, no need to stand on ceremony at this altitude.” Smiling at my small joke Alan sits opposite me and I can read the concern on his craggy features. “We have a pressure leak on number two engine Sir, it is not dangerous at this time but I feel we should land and have it seen too. I don’t like to risk flying for another three hours plus, if the situation becomes critical and leaks fuel it could escalate to highly dangerous instantly. I would like your permission to seek emergency landing status at Cebu International airport in The Philippines. I know a crew there who will rectify our engine overnight, and it is within fifteen minutes of our present position.” I did not hesitate for a second, Alan Burke was not one of the highest paid Jet Pilots for nothing, he has flown them all of his life and in the fifteen years he was worked for me has never made a wrong call yet. “Certainly Alan, you have my permission to do whatever you feel is necessary. Keep me in the loop, if you need funds transferred or local cash obtained, I will be staying in Cebu Ritz Carleton; just message me there with your requirements.” I followed Alan up to the cockpit and watched the professional at work, simultaneously rewriting a flight plan diverting us down to Cebu and calling their tower to seek emergency landing status so as not to be stacked up in a gridlock flight pattern above the airport with the other passenger jets. “Flight CRX niner niner niner calling Cebu Flight tower. This is Mr. Roger Phillip’s private Gulfstream Jet en route from China to Australia with fuel pressure problems, seeking emergency landing status.” Watching the Captain finish the flight plan and put the log book back under the seat while disengaging auto-pilot and trimming the aircraft for decent was like watching a symphony, hands and feet operating buttons and levers and pedals and all the time maintaining a level and steady aircraft, he was a pleasure to watch when there was any difficulty. His calm efficient manner as he spoke to the tower and handled the plane at the same time instilled the upmost confidence in me; I knew I was in the best possible hands. An amateur pilot myself I knew enough to know I was watching the Master here, the ultimate flying Guru. As I felt the nose dip I realized he had obtained permission to land so I retraced my steps to my lounge chair and buckled up, I have learned from experience that it is difficult for staff to give instructions to the billionaire owner of the plane. Suddenly the plane heaves and bucks and I see a huge orange fireball under the starboard wing. Alan’s calm strong voice comes over the cockpit loud speaker system. “I apologize for the turbulence, number two engine has developed a fuel leak which was ignited by the jet flame, I am suppressing the engine and the fuel is now turned off, foam extinguishers have been activated and we will continue down to Cebu immediately on one engine. Everything is in control and we have been given emergency landing status and will be on the ground in six minutes. Please remain seated with your safety belts bucked up, I am going to dip the nose down and make a very steep descent, I repeat that everything is in control and there is no reason for panic.” No sooner had Alan’s voice stopped when my plane felt as if it was standing on its nose as we seemed to heading down almost vertically. In these situations, even though I have one of the best men in the world at the controls telling me calmly there is nothing to be concerned about, there is always the gut wrenching fear that the worst scenario possible will occur and we will drop out of the sky from fifty thousand feet up in the air and that’s the stone cold end of one Roger Phillips: the billionaire owner of the largest shipping and transport companies on the planet. Hands gripping the armrests until my knuckles grow white I look across at my new stewardess seated in the jump seat near the door. I can see her eyes are closed and her lips are moving in silent prayer. Excellent idea, bowing my head I make a few plea bargains with the ALMIGHTY myself during the next six minutes. Although I am positive Alan’s time prediction would be absolutely perfect, it seemed hours before the plane dropped smoothly onto the Cebu runway and followed the emergency flashing lights of the fire trucks and security vehicles detailed to guide us the workshop area. I looked over at Stephanie again, “Say a thank you to HIM for me too Stephanie,” I smile. The shapely girl does her post flight checks and opens the door, standing on the mobile steps outside the plane is a man in his early fifties wearing a uniform covered in gold braid. Instructing Stephanie that he is one Captain Delgrado, chief of immigration at Cebu airport and if she would present him with Mr. Philipp’s passport there would be no need to disturb the important man any further. He would see that it was stamped and cleared along with the rest of the plane crew personally. It would seem the airport security chief had done a little investigating on his own, I chuckled to myself. I am not completely familiar with the percentage but I believe I have a substantial investment in every truck in all of the Philippine’s international airports. Leaving the capable young hostess to dell with the braided captain I walked up to the cockpit again. Alan was talking in Tagalog, the local language, and I presumed it was to his mechanical buddies. I waited patiently as he finished his call and at the same time automatically did his shut down procedures. On the odd occasion when I can find the time to fly my plane I have to follow the book step by step for the pre-flight and post-flight instructions. They are varied and complex, and my Captain is relaxed and talking on the phone as his hands calmly perform the task almost absent mindedly. When he is done he stands up and joins me in the doorway, “The crew will be here in an hour Sir, with your permission I will remain with the aircraft while it is here. The head mechanic is an old air force buddy of mine from our RAAF days and he has already given me two probable causes for the mishap.” Only Alan could call a flaming engine at fifty thousand feet a mishap, I thought to myself. I almost needed to change my trousers when I saw the fireball. I was thankful for the fact he had elected to stay with the plane, I have heard many stories about petty theft and worse from luxury aircraft left unattended at airports, and this was one of the most expensive private jets available. “I would be grateful if you would please Alan,” I agreed. “I will direct Stephanie to give you a platinum master-card, it has unlimited credit, do whatever it takes to get us back into the air as soon as possible.” Then re-thinking those terrifying moments when I saw the flames and Alan nosed us down vertically for our emergency landing, I added
. “But don’t take any short cuts, and don’t spare any expense. There is absolutely no need for you to request permission from me before you use that card Alan, just do it right no matter what the cost. You have carte blanche and all my own authority to rectify the problem.” Relieved the man started to relax, “Incidentally Sir, I took the liberty of requesting the Ritz Carleton’s limousine be sent for you, it should arrive on site in about fifteen minutes.” Thanking him again I went back to the lounge and asked Stephanie what she wanted to do, stay here or go into Cebu. “With your permission Sir I should like to stay with the plane. There are some things out of place in the lockers and kitchen cabinets and I would like to do a thorough equipment check and tidy up.” I have said it before and I will say in again, if you pay peanuts you get monkeys. I want the best and pay accordingly, for that I get expert service that is over and above the normal job descriptions. I thanked the dedicated girl and made a mental note to pay both her and Alan a substantial bonus for their loyalty and consideration. Noting the braided immigration man was still hanging about I decided not to de-plane until he has gone. I am not a snob but these obsequious self-important men who cover themselves in gold braid have little to say that would interest me. They are always to be found in third world countries, usually in positions provided by a family member who is currently in power in some political position, have bribed or bought their way into it. As an aside, I told Stephanie to give him a thousand dollars from the petty cash draw, these officials are all corrupt and their loyalty is easily brought. I sat down in the armchair again, realizing the anti-climax had taken its toll on my body and I was tired. I asked the girl to fix me a scotch and soda and I sipped at the cool refreshing whiskey as I waited for the hotel car. Alan exited the aircraft and I saw a repair truck arrive near the damaged engine. After a few minutes he reappeared at my side, “Sir, Josh has arranged the almost impossible. He has a brand new complete engine in the truck. He asks if we want him to repair our own engine or fit the new one. It will be faster to replace the complete engine and although considerably more expensive it is certainly the safest and most reliable option.” Looking up at him I restated my original instructions, “Alan it is totally your call, do not spare any expense. One scare like that per lifetime is ample sufficiency. Fit the new engine. Make all the decisions necessary yourself; your knowledge and capability in this situation is vastly superior to my own. That is why you are the Captain and I am only a passenger.” I added, “Alan I have complete faith and trust in you, I will back any decision you make here tonight.” Thanking me, he returned to work with his friend installing the new engine and I continued to sip my thousand dollar a bottle single malt as I contemplated a night in the busy environs of Cebu city.
The braided official eventually gave up hanging around outside the plane and went off in his car and the Hotel’s limousine duly arrived and parked adjacent to my aircraft. I climbed into the back of the luxury Mercedes stretch and instructed the driver to fetch my overnight bag from Stephanie. Opening the built in bar I observed another bottle of my favorite scotch whiskey and poured myself a substantial shot. There is nothing like a near catastrophe two miles up above the clouds to give a man the propensity for a few shots of good imported liquor. Tooling down the freeway into Cebu in the whisper quiet luxury vehicle I gazed out to me left at the lights up on the hills. In no hurry to go to my lonely hotel suite I click the button on the remote to lower the glass panel between the driver and I. “Are you in any hurry to get this car back to the Ritz?” I asked the driver. “No Sir,” he replied. “The manager instructed me to take you wherever you want to go.” He added with a huge toothy smile into the rear view mirror, no doubt hoping for a big fat tip in American greenbacks. I returned his smile, if he earned it he would get it. “Drive up to ‘The Tops,” I instructed him. The last time I was in this city I had enjoyed many relaxing evenings in the little bars nestled on the rim of the mountains surrounding the beautiful city. Strategically placed for the best views to overlook the lights of the Philippine’s third largest city they all served an ice cold local beer called ‘Redhorse’ which is 7.9 percent alcohol and has a kick like the animal it is named after. Because it is almost double the strength of most beers around the world many tourists have fallen into the trap of drinking what they believe they can handle only to discover that when they stand up they are quite inebriated. The locals like it because they get drunk very quickly and forget their hardships and the difficult circumstances of surviving in a third world country where work is almost non-existent and usually only menial. The Philippines is quite unique in that although the vast majority of its ninety million or so inhabitants are hungry and broke they smile and laugh and sing all the time. Every corner on every street has a karaoke machine and they all do a roaring trade. A bottle of Redhorse between two or three of them and they are all superstars in their own minds. It does not matter what the hour is there is always someone singing on these infernal machines in varying states of intoxication. One of the intriguing aspects I noticed was that none of them listen to each other, one will sing while the others all talk loudly over the song and when it is their turn to sing the same thing happens. They sing totally and only for the pleasure of listening to their own voice, a most remarkable national trait that I have never seen anywhere else in the world. And tonight that was exactly what I required, a few of the local beers and a mindless delve into local culture as I drove those terrifying moments in the air completely out of my head. The driver was expert and accomplished as he negotiated the tight hairpin bends of the steep mountain road in the long stretch limo. At the top he starts to turn into the luxury hotel car park, I tell him not to do that. I want him to turn around and park on the street and we will leave the car and go to one of the local places. He is concerned that the vehicle will sustain some damage if left unattended but when I tell him I will pay any repair bills and it won’t come out of his pocket he complies with my request immediately. Removing my tie I tell the chauffeur to do the same and we amble down the road past the bars until I see one I like. It has a small courtyard with plastic tables and chairs extending out over a bluff looking directly down on the lights of Cebu. Slinging my Armani suit jacket over the back of the chair I tell the driver to order a couple of bottles of Redhorse and tell him to get ice buckets for them. It is only around twenty nine degrees here but he humidity is always one hundred percent. The sweat is already running down in rivulets under my shirt. The oppressive tropical heat is another trap for the unwary tourist in this country; it is just too easy to let those ice cold beers slide down to cool your insides for a moment. “My name is Robert Sir.” I turn from the city lights and look up at the driver opening the beer and placing the bottles in the ice bucket. “Well now that is coincidence, my name is also Robert.” I answer him with a smile. With another of his open mouthed, white toothy smiles he says, “That is nice but I must call you Sir.” Laughing I gulp the first beer and hand the glass to Robert. That is another characteristic of this nation, doesn’t matter how many are drinking there is only one glass and you share it. It is not reasonable to take your time and savor the taste because someone is always waiting for their turn with the glass. Consequently you drink way to fast. But that is why they drink, to get hubog, the local dialect for drunk. Draining his shot Robert refills the glass and hands it back to me, I know the drill so I drink it and give it back. Turning back to my contemplation of the lights I notice the fast ferry for Mindinao just leaving the port. They take around ten hours and travel overnight. It is substantially cheaper than flying for the locals. There are huge open decks with rows of bunk beds with no mattress of any kind. If I slept on one of them I would be stiff as a board for a week. I enjoy travelling by sea, I have used the fast ferries and they have reasonable private cabin facilities but they cost a similar amount of money to an air fare. “Are you hubog Sir, or shall we have another bottle?” Robert is eagerly awaiting my reply, turning back to him I assure him I am not remotely hubog and to go and get tw
o more bottles and some more ice. “Sir is it ok for my friends to join us?” Robert has returned with two local guys. “Sure the more the merrier Robert,” I answer expansively. “Unsa mung pangalan?” I dig deep into my memory of my visits here to remember the dialect for ‘What is your name?’ Surprised the young men settle in and reach for the glass rattling off some staccato Visaya. “Whoa boys,” I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “I don’t speak Visaya or Tagalog. Just gamay.” Gamay means ‘little.’ They all learn English in school but it is badly and incorrectly taught and they don’t always attend class because of a total lack of money. The entire education system is hit and miss. The guys seem pleasant enough and we converse a little while I dodge all the neat little enquiries as to what I do for a job and how much money I make. If they had any idea of the amount in my wallet I would be in danger, no matter how much they like me and enjoy my company and generosity it would just be too big a temptation for such poverty stricken people. “You want to sing Sir,” asks one of the guys.” Loosely translated that means that he is hubog and wants to sing but needs me to pay the five pesos for two songs on the karaoke machine. Slipping a hundred dollar bill into Robert’s hand I instruct him to pay the bar bill and get some local money for the machine. He went off with another of his infectious wide grins, he was quite a likable chap really I discovered myself thinking. “Maybe I am a few sheets in the wind,” I laugh quietly to myself. I slow the drinking down now that the men have gone off to do their Elvis impersonations and wow themselves with their talent, and continue to sit quietly observing the spectacular light show below me. I very seldom have the opportunity to steal moments like this from my hectic work schedule and when they happen I extract every modicum of peace and solace from them that I can. I was perfectly relaxed and enjoying my own company. “Hello, what’s your name and where do you come from.” I looked up at the pair of young girls standing near the table. “Rico said you buy us Redhorse.” I vaguely remember one of the guys said his name was Rico. When there is a foreigner present the locals get very generous, they invite all and sundry to ‘share the blessing.’ I told them to get a bottle and join me, and sure enough when the pair returned they had quadrupled and they carried a case of beer. The party was starting, just as I knew it would when word got around a foreigner was buying. I didn’t mind a bit, if there is one thing they people in the Philippines know how to do it is party. In less than an hour there were at least thirty people around me, two of the guys had guitars and played reasonably and a couple of the girls sang quite well. I have a decent baritone and can carry a tune in a bucket myself, and was singing along when they played something from my era. I have no idea how it happened, but sometime in the wee small hours all thirty or so of us were piled into the limo and driving somewhere way south of the city. Now this behavior is definitely potentially dangerous, but then I am a particularly adventurous sort of character so I went with the flow and we bellowed our songs and laughed and the world was good. Robert stopped the vehicle outside a small shopping complex in a village called Oslob, according to a hand painted sign on the wall. “They send us a bumboat now Sir, we leave the car here and my friend take care of it. You just give him one hundred pesos when we come back, okay?” At this juncture I would readily agree with anything, we all trooped off down the road and out onto a dark jetty. Sure enough in thirty minutes or so a large triple hulled bumboat moored at the jetty and we negotiated the narrow plank onto the deck and opened the case of Redhorse the ever obliging Robert had instructed them to bring with them. Evidently the boat belonged to a holiday resort called Blue Island and we were all going to spend the night there. It was a short trip of maybe only two miles and we disembarked back over the plank and staggered up a track through some trees to a beautiful hotel outdoor patio with a collection of cooks creating an assortment of local seafood dishes. The ever thoughtful Robert had decided I might be peckish and had phoned ahead for the food. Looking around at the five star luxury and the obliging staff hauled out of their beds at this terrible hour, I had a fleeting thought that this was going to cost an arm and a leg come morning. But hey, morning isn’t here yet so on with the party. Out came the guitars again and with huge platters of hot spicy seafood being delivered to the table all was right with the world. After cleaning up the area the staff joined us as well and the party burst into full production. At one point a remember doing the rhumba, or was it the cha-cha, with about five girls, and we were all in various stages of undress. Copious bottles of beer and the ever present humidity had streams of perspiration flowing down my naked chest as I gyrated around the floor with one after another of these nubile young girls. Slowly as each hour past the weaker members of our group passed out on the floor and slept where they lay. “Ouch,” one of the girls bit my nipple hard. “You like?” She cheekily enquired. Rubbing my red chest and feeling an odd sort of sensation in my groin I answered. “Yes, I like. But not here, where are my rooms?” Taking an arm each the last two girls remaining on their feet lead me around another track through the trees to the luxurious condos all with their own private piece of beach. Taking a master key from her pocket one of the girls opened the front doors of the largest one and they dragged me none too gently inside. Closing the doors she locked them again and returned the keys to her pocket, she then drew the heavy drapes across and turned back to me. I noticed the smiles were gone. In perfect sequence, as though they had done this sort of thing many times, each of the girls grabbed one of my arms and dragged me through the lounge into the master suite. Even in my severely drunken stupor I couldn’t help remarking how strong and athletic these stunningly beautiful young women were. Physically throwing me over the bed on my back one of them, the red head with the short cropped hair, ordered me to remain where I was. “You stay, not move.” With a frosty no nonsense look on her face she rattled of some staccato Visaya and the blonde with the long platinum hair left the condo. There was no fear of me moving, I was drunk and exhausted from all the dancing and carousing. I must have passed out for a while because I awoke to rough hands removing my clothing until I lay naked. The voluptuous ladies were also stark naked also but when I reached out to touch one and pull her to me she gave me a roundhouse slap that jolted my head back on my shoulders and made my left eye tear up instantly. “You no touch, you lie still. Not move.” She commanded angrily. Touching my heated cheek and still feeling the pain I decided to do exactly that. From an open brief case on the floor she took a pair of hand cuffs and before a protest reached my lips they rolled me over and cuffed my hands behind my back. This was getting serious! I decided to call a halt to these proceedings but when I opened my mouth the blonde rammed a gag into it. “I tell you before, you stay quiet. Not talk.” Spluttering, I had to relax or I couldn’t draw enough air. Rolling me back onto my back the redhead applied two nipple clamps to me and did them up excruciatingly tight. Then she reached down and dug her nails into my flaccid cock. It jerked fully erect and she stroked it, every few strokes she would jerk on the chain attached to the nipple clamps. The sensation of pleasure and then a brief flash of pain made me growl deep down in my throat. She flicked her tongue over my cock head at the same time driving her nails into the shaft. Again I was given pain and pleasure; the sensations were spreading through my entire body now. The redhead joined in, lying behind me she flicked her tongue over my ear lobes, the sensuously slipped it into my ear, I gasped at how the hot wet organ made me feel as it entered my ear. Then another flash of pain as she bit my ear, hard! Then kissing the hurt away and kissing my neck, at the same time gently stroking my hair. Pain and then pleasure. Pleasure and then pain. The mixed messages were totally causing my brain to melt down. It was attempting to identify the pain and apply some healing to it, and then receiving sensuous and sexual feelings. My cock and balls were being administered to in the same way. One moment being gently licked and sucked and the next being bitten, making my back arch in a fiery burst of pain. Removing the gag the redhead straddled my chest and ground her pelvis painfu
lly onto my chin. She started to move faster and harder and she reached for my ears and gripping them painfully dragged my chin hard into her gaping and wet cunt. “Lick me!” She roared out, get your tongue inside and lick my cunt.” To emphasize her seriousness she almost tore off my ears driving herself onto my mouth. Working in unison the blonde was now deep throating me, totally engulfing my iron hard cock. Pleasure and pain. Moving back down my body the redhead brought her mouth to mine and gently kissed my bruised lips and aching chin. Pushing her cunt down until my cock was touching it she began to massage it with her cunt flaps. Slipping her tongue into my battered mouth she started to explore me inside and at the same time rose up until my cock head was at her soaking wet opening. As she teased me the blonde lifted my knees and opened my legs and flicked her tongue over my tight balls. Then the redhead bit my lower lip, I could feel the blood flow inside my mouth as I bucked up off the bed and roared out my pain, then she lowered her cunt onto my cock and took me deep inside in one savage and brutal thrust. Rearing up she drove down on me again. The pain in my tender lower lip remained longer, and as the intense pleasure caused by the writhing, driving demon woman riding my mammoth erection intensified the sensation of pain and pleasure had never been so high. She lifted high, until just the hungry tip of my cock was inside her, she leaned down and kissed my tender ears, my bruised lips, artfully and gently. Caressing my hair at the same time, as her flexible pussy massaged the head of my cock just barely inside. There was no pain now, only pleasure, as she stroked and touched and massaged. She began to revolve on my cock head, her cunt was actually vibrating. She flicked her hot tongue into my mouth again, sucking my cut lip, kissing away all the hurt. My body was reacting all over the place. I could feel her own need for my cock radiating from her as the movements became more frantic. When I felt her opening relax and she was ready to drive down onto it again I was so ready for another dose of pleasure I rose up to meet her as she drove down. Then a blinding flood of real pain exploded inside me like fireball. I screamed at the ceiling as my body and brain reacted to the totally brutal and terrifyingly painful invasion. Wave after wave of red hot fiery flame ripped through my body and tore through my already confused brain like a series of thunderbolts. As my tortured screaming rose to a new crescendo I tossed my head from side to side and bucked and heaved trying to dislodge the cause of the savage ripping of my intestines. All the while the redhead was rising and falling as she rode my fully erect and throbbing cock. Slowly, ever so slowly, the vicious intensity of the brutal act began to subside, and my overburdened brain began to function again. Rising and falling and caressing my cock with her soaking wet cunt the redhead kept up her steady rhythm. As she drove down the blonde with the massive strap-on man-dildo behind her would slide back into my ass. As she rose up again the blonde would withdraw. Ultimate pleasure and ultimate pain, simultaneously. “Stop fighting it lover, relax and enjoy us. You know you want this. You know you need it,” the redhead cooed into my mouth as her wet tongue slide around inside it. Her gentle kisses and quiet words together with the intense please of her fully engulfing my rock hard erection started to work. Tentatively I began to slide onto the blonde’s giant rubber cock. But it wasn’t enough when I did it, I needed the pain. Sensing accurately what was missing the blonde took over; as the redhead drove down more forcefully she drove her cock into me. The pain hit again, but this time I was expecting it, wanted it, needed it. Then miraculously we were all driving together. Bucking and heaving we rode each other to the limits and beyond. Through the red veil of pain I felt the intense pleasure of feeling the redhead spasm deep inside and her muscles clamp around my pulsating cock. Her release coincided with mine and we erupted together. As she fountained her love juice all over my cock I shot stream after stream of hot thick cum up into her stomach. It seemed to go on and on, it was running down my shaft and soaking the bed under us, there was so much of it. The more the totally out of control woman spasmed and fountained, the more I shot up into her. Slowly our frenzy ceased and we lay still, overcome and astounded at what had happened. Even the blonde looked satiated and as empty as we were. Then I realized that she was, that was her bag, seducing men. That’s what did it for her. Then the biggest shock of all, the blonde looked down at me with adoring eyes and said quietly, “Captain Alan says thank you for your trust and respect.” Slowly the girls withdrew from my body and cuddled up either side. They told me how he had called them and asked if they could call Robert and meet him somewhere and then find a way to give me their special remedy for people who were recovering from a flight scare. They then related how they had almost had to come to blows with the other women in the group who all had designs on my body and consequently my wallet. “OH bugger, my Wallet,” I sat bolt upright. “Hehehe settle down sugar, it’s in your jacket in the lounge. We took turns guarding you, and it.” The blonde added laughingly. They were the last words spoken, the alcohol and the mammoth love fest finally took their toll and in a combined tangle of naked limbs we all drifted into unconsciousness at the same time. The last thought that skimmed through my quickly dimming brain was that I must increase the bonus I had decided to give Alan. Increase be buggered, I will quadruple it. Then the lights went out.