The Devil's Playground

by Michael Reagan

ceiling' windows sipping on a flute of Krug Champagne waiting for his lover and the mother of his son to return from the bathroom.

  Jennet and he had spent the evening dining in one of the private rooms of the hotel's Japanese restaurant. Their evening, as always, had been riveting, intimate, and amusing as she fed him sushi and blowfish that had been prepared by the personal chef of his friend Yorijo Katayama who had been sent as part of the pre-opening team of the hotel's Japanese management team. He reflected on the meeting of the early evening. It had surprised him just how well Thomas had taken news of what was expected of him. When Jennet had first suggested to him that he should take over TLH's Turkmenistan operations, he had laughed, kissed her and then smacked her on her beautiful bottom as she had sat in his lap naked.

  "That's what happens when you spend too much time around Balysh and his goluboi," he had said, using the Russian word for gay.

  "He rapes you every day and you allow him to do it," she had replied with venom. "He is weak, look how he gave the Americans his oil rights in Africa," she said, displaying her intelligence as she started to nibble at his ear.

  It appeared, as always, his beautiful concubine had been right.

  When he had first met Jennet he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Knowing that Balysh was homosexual he wondered what such a lovely creature was doing with him. Resolved to have her, initially she had frustrated him by declaring that she was loyal to her husband. This had only fuelled his desire. Frustrated and intoxicated he struck a deal with Balysh that he would support his political career in exchange for allowing access to his wife.

  The night the goluboi had sent her to him at the Burj Al Arab Hotel for first time would be forever seared in his memory.

  She came wearing a low-cut cream silk evening gown with a long slit up the side, her face sweet and innocent, and her piercing green eyes looking at him with trepidation. He had fallen in love her with right then. Skilled as any courtesan the, sex was better than anything he had ever experienced with his wife or many mistresses. Suspicious of her motives he had asked her once why she was so turned on by him, not believing for one moment that her screams of pleasure and whimpering as he took her were the sounds of love. Her answer, his 'mind and power,' quickly followed by her tongue on his body in all his intimate places and her hand gently squeezing his balls had dispatched the distrustful thoughts, yet despite her actions his doubts had remained. It was only when she had given him a son that he finally believed her. Desperate for her leave her husband, he had struck a deal to ensure his son got everything. Now it was time to collect. She had promised to leave Balysh. Tonight Ruslan decided he would ensure she did.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening and shutting brought him back to the world. What he saw took his breath away. Jennet was standing stock still in black lingerie with her eyes downcast in a subservient manner, looking every inch the exquisite woman-child she was.

  Ruslan smiled at her. He loved how the bronzed yellow skin of her toned body finished off with her large milk full breasts contrasted with the sexy black lingerie she was wearing. He extended his hand towards her. Slowly Jennet made her way to him. He spread his legs and guided her between them.

  Gently as she always did she sat on his naked leg then leaned her breasts against his chest. Her soft hand went to his chest. Then she patted his pot belly lightly before she started play with dark hair on his body while pulling the robe apart seductively, using her fingers in the manner he loved the most.

  He groaned as he handed her a glass of champagne and wrapped his arm around her. She smiled at him. Ruslan felt as though his life were complete. All the risks and the deaths he ordered to consolidate his power were all worth it, soon his son and the woman he loved would be his.

  Suddenly his mind began to whirl. He felt light headed. His heart started to beat faster. A shortness of breath arrived. His mouth felt dry. His vision became blurred. He started panic.

  "Jennet help me," he cried. Instead a gob of spit landed on his face.

  "Help you! You're going to die," she said with venom, "At the hands of Oleg M?likguly?ewi? Rejejow's daughter! The mother of your son!"

  Ruslan's eyes widened in fear at sound of the name of the man he had once betrayed. The last sound he heard on the earth was the woman he loved, the mother of his son saying,

  "Seni? mertebe bolmak meni? mertebe!"

  19

  New York City

  The news of Ruslan's death had surprised Thomas at the time but the news that he was now the chief suspect in his murder did not. He hadn't needed Saul to tell him as to who was behind it as he had already guessed that it had to be the new President and his cronies.

  Being a Russian citizen, the Turkmenistan government had decided to start the proceedings in Moscow for his extradition. Luckily, because Thomas was considered an important cog in the wheels of Russia's own gas industry and a diplomat by way of his diplomatic passport that Putin had given him as a reward for his efforts in the African crisis, the Russian government had informed the court to suspend the proceedings against him until further notice. Public relations -wise, this action had caused Thomas problems with certain sections of the media who used it as evidence that he was well and truly one of Putin's innercircle.

  That was the least of his problems.

  Exiting the Armoured Mercedes-Benz S500 dressed head to toe in a black Tom Ford tuxedo with a silver silk scarf and black bow tie around his neck Thomas ignored the various media's flash bulbs and entered the famous St Regis Hotel on Central Park.

  As a rule since Nara's death he rarely attended these types of events. The exception being the annual event at Upper Barpham estate each year for his staff and partners. Tonight unfortunately though, Hank Dowling had insisted on it.

  Entering the ballroom of the famous 1904 Beaux Art landmark building it didn't take him long to quickly find him as he was talking to an absolutely stunning young Chinese woman in her mid-twenties and a man Thomas instantly recognized as one of his former contemporaries from Oxford who doubled as the Chinese Ambassador to the United Nations called Zeng Cheng.

  As he walked up to them, Zeng immediately spotted Thomas.

  "Tommy!" he said with the same enthusiasm he had once done at Oxford all those years ago.

  "Been a long time, Zeng," Thomas replied, warmly holding his hand out.

  "Too long." Warmly taking his hand the former professor of Economics with a wide smile on his face agreed. The American promptly followed suit, greeting Thomas just as warmly after he had released Zeng's hand. That finally allowed Thomas the chance to focus his gaze on the stunning creature of the group.

  "Sir Thomas," the young woman said in flawless English with eyes that to Thomas looked the color of Jade and appeared as deep as the ocean.

  Thomas's response was a smile. Although more than half his age, Thomas took in her creamy yellow skin and her piercing eyes, to his eyes they both seemed to glisten against the couture Emerald Green Silk long ballroom dress she wearing.

  His body and mind instinctively reacted to her beauty not many women had done that over the years to him and certainly none since Nara. This lady had just done so.

  "Tommy," interrupted the Ambassador breaking their stare for a second forcing Thomas to turn reluctantly away from her and to the direction of his old friend. "May I introduce Zhang Nu," he said proudly completing the introduction as she extended her hand for him to shake. "One of China's most famous actresses!"

  On seduction mode forgetting his troubles for just a moment, Thomas quick as a flash replied, "You're forgetting something Zeng,"

  "What's that Tommy?" Hank asked having his own moment of attempted seduction interrupted by the arrival of his friend and determined not to give up his position of dominance without a fight.

  "China's fifth great beauty," he said in fluent Mandarin without a flicker of emotion to which his Chinese friend readily agreed with him with a loud belly laugh.

 
; "What the hell does that mean?" asked Hank with a look of annoyance on his face.

  "Mr. Dowling," offered Zhang. "Sir Thomas is attempting to compare me to the four great beauties of China," she said with a look of arrogance and displeasure, not falling for Thomas's charms. Instead she chose to refocus her gaze on the American in effort to place him at ease disarming him with a smile that promised more in the process. "I, however, believe the beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names," she said firmly putting Thomas in his place by making fun of his lack of originality over using a term the media of her country often called her as she returned back to his gaze with a twinkle.

  This time it was Hank's turn to laugh. So did the Ambassador.

  "Hell, Tommy," Hank said gleefully, "I think Miss Nu has put you in well and truly in your place! We have a saying in Texas, Miss Nu: You can cut off a dog's tail, but you can't sew it back."

  Hank, with a yet another further belly laugh, took great delight explaining to everybody its meaning that a bad mistake can't be corrected, and thus make sure of your intent and purpose before you start something. Sensing he had met his match and not to mention now feeling something he hadn't felt in long time, a pang of genuine attraction, Thomas backed down and agreed with the American. He then confirmed his surrender to the Zhang by way of picking up a glass of champagne from one