to wreck his dream. And he was too close now to that dream . . . much too close. So when the enquiry came through that so suited Lily, the decision was not so much easy as inevitable; and the money pure cream on the top.
He looked again at the photo of the woman. Damn near perfect! He was a god amongst demigods. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the familiarstirrings of desire. It was always like this. Arousal was easy when he was in control, when he was showcasing his wizardry. He was a magician, though no one but a select few yet understood his brilliance and how his particular form of magic was about to unleash itself on the world to slay the pretenders, who could only aspire to his feats. He stroked himself, sighing gently with anticipated pleasure, before downing the contents of the crystal Scotch glass. He felt the fire erupt through his gut and fuel the flames of a new fire of lust that now needed to be sated. He carefully put away the photos, then picked up his mobile and dialled a familiar number.
‘Hello,’ answered a smoky, accented voice.
‘It’s me, angel. How free are you?’
She chuckled deeply. ‘How long?’
‘A few hours.’
‘How many?’
‘Two of you, no three. Can you bring the boy?’
She laughed again. ‘What time?’
‘Now. I’m ready now.’
He heard her whisper something before she came back on the line. ‘So are we. Are you picking us up?’
‘I’ll send a taxi. Don’t dawdle. Come in the back way.’ He rang off, dialled another number and ordered a taxi, giving the despatcher the pick-up and delivery addresses. He poured himself another Scotch, settled into the sofa and turned on the television to distract himself from his suddenly demanding erection. He flicked through various channels until a familiar face beamed out her thousand-watt smile at him.
‘Ah, Stoney, there you are,’ he murmured, wondering whether she had a few more teeth than necessary in that huge mouth of hers.
‘Welcome everyone,’ she said, ‘today we’recoming to you from Bluewater in Dartford, Kent, which is the second biggest shopping centre in Britain as far as retailing goes. And it’s one of the largest supercentres in Europe with something in the order of 330 outlets.’
He felt she was shouting, but then Stoney always sounded over-excited. Was he the only one who minded?
‘I’m standing in the Upper Gallery, the Rose Garden, and it’s very impressive. What’s even more impressive is that today it’s a busy Friday with the shops already filling up and I suspect someone in one of those shops would like to Turn Back the Clock ! What do you think?’ She grinned into the camera. ‘Shall we go and find them?’
‘Them?’ he repeated with disgust. ‘You’re an illiterate idiot as well, Stoney.’
‘Come on, let’s find him or her,’ she continued, as though she had heard him. She beckoned to the camera and the familiar theme of the program sounded and the show cut to an ad break.
There were four ads before Stoney was back, the smile even wider if that was possible. She looked pretty hot in her jeans, high boots, white shirt and pale pink hoodie. Her tan, flawless make-up and perfectly styled, highlighted golden hair all helped. Next to her stood a woman, no doubt deliberately chosen to appear appropriately troll-like, he decided, especially when standing next to the glamorous Samantha ‘Stoney’ Stone.
‘I have here with me Jenny Rawlins. Jenny’s a single mother of four, she’s a nurse and she’s absolutely desperate to Turn Back the Clock .’ Each time she said those four words — the title of the show — she accentuated them.
He sneered. ‘Well, she would look 106 with that brood . . . but nothing that we couldn’t fix. What a set-up!’ he told the TV over Stoney’s voice.
And yet she burbled on. ‘Forgive my bluntness but may I ask how old you are?’
‘I’m forty-eight next birthday, which is in about three weeks,’ Jenny admitted.
‘I see. And
He looked again at the photo of the woman. Damn near perfect! He was a god amongst demigods. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the familiarstirrings of desire. It was always like this. Arousal was easy when he was in control, when he was showcasing his wizardry. He was a magician, though no one but a select few yet understood his brilliance and how his particular form of magic was about to unleash itself on the world to slay the pretenders, who could only aspire to his feats. He stroked himself, sighing gently with anticipated pleasure, before downing the contents of the crystal Scotch glass. He felt the fire erupt through his gut and fuel the flames of a new fire of lust that now needed to be sated. He carefully put away the photos, then picked up his mobile and dialled a familiar number.
‘Hello,’ answered a smoky, accented voice.
‘It’s me, angel. How free are you?’
She chuckled deeply. ‘How long?’
‘A few hours.’
‘How many?’
‘Two of you, no three. Can you bring the boy?’
She laughed again. ‘What time?’
‘Now. I’m ready now.’
He heard her whisper something before she came back on the line. ‘So are we. Are you picking us up?’
‘I’ll send a taxi. Don’t dawdle. Come in the back way.’ He rang off, dialled another number and ordered a taxi, giving the despatcher the pick-up and delivery addresses. He poured himself another Scotch, settled into the sofa and turned on the television to distract himself from his suddenly demanding erection. He flicked through various channels until a familiar face beamed out her thousand-watt smile at him.
‘Ah, Stoney, there you are,’ he murmured, wondering whether she had a few more teeth than necessary in that huge mouth of hers.
‘Welcome everyone,’ she said, ‘today we’recoming to you from Bluewater in Dartford, Kent, which is the second biggest shopping centre in Britain as far as retailing goes. And it’s one of the largest supercentres in Europe with something in the order of 330 outlets.’
He felt she was shouting, but then Stoney always sounded over-excited. Was he the only one who minded?
‘I’m standing in the Upper Gallery, the Rose Garden, and it’s very impressive. What’s even more impressive is that today it’s a busy Friday with the shops already filling up and I suspect someone in one of those shops would like to Turn Back the Clock ! What do you think?’ She grinned into the camera. ‘Shall we go and find them?’
‘Them?’ he repeated with disgust. ‘You’re an illiterate idiot as well, Stoney.’
‘Come on, let’s find him or her,’ she continued, as though she had heard him. She beckoned to the camera and the familiar theme of the program sounded and the show cut to an ad break.
There were four ads before Stoney was back, the smile even wider if that was possible. She looked pretty hot in her jeans, high boots, white shirt and pale pink hoodie. Her tan, flawless make-up and perfectly styled, highlighted golden hair all helped. Next to her stood a woman, no doubt deliberately chosen to appear appropriately troll-like, he decided, especially when standing next to the glamorous Samantha ‘Stoney’ Stone.
‘I have here with me Jenny Rawlins. Jenny’s a single mother of four, she’s a nurse and she’s absolutely desperate to Turn Back the Clock .’ Each time she said those four words — the title of the show — she accentuated them.
He sneered. ‘Well, she would look 106 with that brood . . . but nothing that we couldn’t fix. What a set-up!’ he told the TV over Stoney’s voice.
And yet she burbled on. ‘Forgive my bluntness but may I ask how old you are?’
‘I’m forty-eight next birthday, which is in about three weeks,’ Jenny admitted.
‘I see. And
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