Los Angeles

Orlov, who had entered the United States by car from Canada after a flight to Vancouver, walked into the bar at the Four Seasons hotel in Los Angeles and looked around. At seven on a Sunday evening, the place was busy. Most seats at the bar were taken and about two thirds of the tables. As he scanned the room, he saw several women who appeared to be by themselves—high class-prostitutes, he guessed. Exactly what he wanted.

He sat down at an open table and ordered a vodka on the rocks. By the time he had his drink, he decided on his first choice: a tall, busty blonde sitting three tables away, dressed in a pale pink tank top that showed half of her boobs. She had a glass of champagne in front of her, but wasn’t sipping it.

Orlov noticed her glancing his way a couple of times. He picked up his drink and walked over. “Can I join you?” he asked.

“Sure. My name’s Angie.”

“I’m Val.”

He didn’t know what perfume she was wearing, but she smelled damn good.

“Where’s that accent from?” she asked.

“Prague, in the Czech Republic.”

She smiled, showing perfectly white teeth. “I know where Prague is. I was even there a couple of years ago on a tour of Eastern Europe.”

“Did you like it?”

“Great city. I still remember that exotic clock in the tower in the old city. I met lots of nice people in Prague. What are you doing in Los Angeles?”

“I work for a bank. We’re looking at some investments here. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Australia. Sydney.”

“Down under.”

“The end of the world is a more apt description.”

“I gather you’re glad to be out of there.”

“You better believe it. The most overrated and provincial place in the world. Ever been there?”

“Not yet. I was hoping to get there one day, but if I spend time with you I might reassess.”

Angie was a good talker. That made her even more valuable for the job.

Casually, she reached down and touched his knee. Then left her hand resting there. She had long fingernails. Polished bright red.

His plan had been to hire Angie to pick up Paul Walters, one of the five engineers in Rogers Laughton’s Epsilon Unit who developed the PGS technology. But based on Walters’s behavior last evening, he wouldn’t be in the Marriott bar until eleven. That left Orlov almost four hours. He could easily go off with Angie and still have her pick up Paul at eleven. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. And Angie was an incredible turn on. Looking down her tank top, he saw that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He felt his prick stiffening.

As if reading his mind, she moved her hand over to his erection.

“Wow,” she said softly. “I like having that effect on men.”

“What else do you like?”

“We could go to my place, and I’ll show you.”

“That sounds good.”

“Two thousand.”

“I can handle that.” He finished his drink in a single gulp, paid the bill, and followed Angie out of the bar. She was wearing an incredibly tight pair of Armani jeans. Looked like they were painted on.

She drove a white Audi convertible, top down, too fast for Beverly Hills. Seat belt on, he closed his eyes and let the breeze whip through his hair. He was in LA, baby. Ain’t no place like it in the world.

Her apartment was on the twelfth floor of a luxury high-rise on Wilshire Blvd. near Beverly Glen. Business was good, Orlov thought.

When they entered her apartment, she said, “Want something to drink?”

“I don’t think so. I want you now.”

She held out her hand. He reached into his bag, extracted two thousand in hundreds, and handed them to her. She tucked them into a desk drawer.

“Now we can play,” she said.

She looped an arm around his back and led him into the bedroom. He was standing close to the wall. She kicked off her shoes and pressed her body against him. Then she unzipped his pants, reached in and pulled out his hard cock.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s something. I got so wet talking to you in the bar,” she whispered and nibbled his ear.

“Let me see.”

She wiggled out of her jeans and pale blue silk panties. He reached down and touched her blond bush. Her pussy was soaked.

She was unbuttoning his shirt while he yanked off her tank top and played with her breasts.

“I can’t wait to feel your hard cock inside,” she said.

She pushed him down on the king-sized bed and removed a condom from the end table, which she slipped on him with her mouth while she stroked his balls.

“I want to ride you,” she said.

“Whatever you want, honey.”

She climbed on top. Sitting, she slid him inside. Then she leaned her arms back. With her hands anchoring her, she moved up and down. He watched the rising and falling of her breasts. She was moving faster and faster.

God, she was good, driving him wild. Pleasure filling his whole body. He wanted to make it last as long as possible but he couldn’t. He felt himself exploding.

“Yes,” she cried out. “Yes, I’m coming, too.”

He was convinced she was lying, but he didn’t care. She had made him feel so damn good.

She climbed off and headed off to the bathroom. He heard water running. Sated, he closed his eyes and lay back on the plush pillows.

“Can I take you back to the Four Seasons?” she said. “Or drop you somewhere else?”

He watched her putting on her clothes. She was all business now. A working girl. She had to move on to the next client. That was how she had gotten the apartment and the Audi.

“I have a financial proposition for you,” he said.

“I’ll listen to anything. Get dressed first.”

When he came out to the living room, she handed him a glass. “Vodka on ice,” she said. “I heard you order it at the Four Seasons.”

He sat down in a brown leather chair facing her on the sofa. She was perfect for what he wanted. With enough money, he was confident she’d do it.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” she asked.

He removed a man’s picture from his bag and handed it to her. “His name is Paul Walters. He’s in Los Angeles on business, staying at the Marriott in Century City. Last night at eleven he went to the bar in the hotel. He spent about an hour eyeing various women, but he never made a move. My guess is that he was thinking about trying to pick them up, but he’s too shy, and none of them went for him.

“He’s supposed to be at the hotel for three more nights. Tonight, Monday, and Tuesday. Chances are he’ll be in the bar tonight. If he is, I want you to bring him back to your apartment and give him the wildest sex of his life. Stuff he couldn’t even imagine. But I don’t want you to accept any money from him. Make him think you’re attracted to him. I’ll pay you.”

She looked wary. “Why are you doing this?”

“You don’t have to know.”

“There’s more to it. What else? I don’t want to end up in jail.”

The woman was no dummy. “While you’re having sex with him, I’ll be hiding in your bedroom closet and filming it through a crack between the door panels.”

She stood up, fixed herself a glass of ice water, and sat back down. “Why should I do shit like this? I’ll get into trouble.”

“I won’t film your face. Just his.”

“You’re going to put this on the Internet.”

“Quite the opposite. He’ll want to keep it quiet. And I’ll agree to do that.”

She was nodding. “Okay, I get it. But it’ll cost you.”

“I’ll pay you ten thousand in cash.”

“Twenty.”

He thought of negotiating with her, but decided against it. “Okay, twenty.”

“Ten now, and ten when he leaves.”

“If I give you ten now, how do I know you’ll do it?”

“You know where to find me. I imagine you’d know how to get your money back.”

“True.”

“And I’ll throw in a blow job when you give me the second ten.”

“That’s good. But wait. There’s more to it.”

“What else?”

“The next two nights, Monday and Tuesday, Walters will still be in Los Angeles. I want you to make dates with him for dinner and sex. Both nights. I won’t be filming. Let him think you’re in love with him. As the Americans say, fuck his brains out. Really get him hooked so he doesn’t think tonight was a one-night stand. Tell him you’d like to see him whenever he comes to Los Angeles.”

“If I have to have dinner with Walters, that means I won’t be able to see anybody else tomorrow and Tuesday. My time is money. So my price goes up when somebody wants to do dinner.”

“I understand that. I’ll pay you six a night for each of those two nights.”

“Eight.”

She was a greedy little bitch. “Okay, it’s a deal. Call your broker. Figure out how to invest the money.”

“I only buy bonds. I’m risk adverse.”

He laughed. “By the way, I want you to know Walters doesn’t have any money. So don’t get hooked on him. I’m the one you have to satisfy.”