Chapter 26

We played for the rest of the day, though the lady playgrounds were pretty much off limits. Our play consisted of cuddling, napping, feeding each other, petting, back rubs, and the odd blow job.

You know...

The things we do to keep harmony in the home.

Our regular pilots were quietly replaced with two that were more ... rugged looking, and doubled as bodyguards. Winnie especially liked the looks of one of them, a blond Adonis, who looked like he just parked his surfboard against the wall to catch the jet. I told her to keep her pants zippered, unless I was the one unzipping them, or I would have to pick up a couple of loose women from a random shopping mall and invite them to share our shower for an afternoon.

I don't think Winnie was particularly anxious to find out if I meant it. Neither was I!

The flight to Monaco was just that ... a plane ride. We talked, played, rejoined the mile-high club twice, and slept a lot. When we arrived, I discovered that I was expected to buy a whole new wardrobe, befitting a mega-rich playboy. Winnie LOVED that idea, and we shopped for hours, and hours, and hours, and hours. Winnie only relented when I informed her that Mr. Johnson was threatening to go into early retirement from all the trying on of strange clothing.

We spent over one hundred and fifty thousand dollars on clothes, jewelry, and accessories.

Women LIVE for accessorizing. I learned this how? By being forced to view the browsing, comparing, and purchasing of thousands of dollars' worth of accessories for every potential occasion, including an early blizzard, that might limit us to eating in the hotel, and cause us to have to change clothes fourteen times a day to look ... chic.

When we finally staggered back to the hotel suite, I showered and dressed in my favorite new outfit, and after a sufficient rest, we went downstairs to see and be seen.

Our plan to accidentally find out about the yacht for sale was clean and simple. Since we knew through intelligence what games the men liked to play, I would take a seat at a table near them. After playing for a while, Winnie would sashay in, making a bit of an entrance, and wrap herself around me to get their attention. She would announce that she bumped into a woman in the ladies room that told her a luxury yacht had pulled into the casino dock, and was for sale.

We would have a conversation about how much fun it would be to take a tour as perspective buyers, and Winnie would suggest that I buy it, 'just for fun.' If that didn't garner their attention, nothing would. Hopefully their attention would be justification to strike up a conversation and introduce ourselves.

Once we went through with the purchase, we would invite people we'd chatted with to a Yacht Warming party, complete with orchestra, casino games, and nude dancers. If they were the horn dogs Judge Harvey claimed they were, that would set the hook, forevermore.

When we wandered in to the casino, we spied several of the men on our list playing roulette at a private table, behind a velvet rope, with about a dozen 'friends.' Those friends looked bigger and more menacing in person, which gave me pause. Then I remembered putting Justin in the hospital, with one blow. That pumped me up a little, and I somehow transmitted my confidence to those around us, because several women, including two at the roulette table, perked up to watch me.

Winnie picked up on the sudden interest in me, and clung a little tighter, which also seemed to attract my little band of potential bedmates. There was nothing like having a beautiful woman showering you with attention to make other men's women interested.

That interest would turn out to be a wonderful advantage.

I played blackjack for a couple of hours and lost a quarter of a million dollars. We were not sure whose money we had lost, but suspected it once belonged to the mafia. If so, then we were giving back, so to speak. Our quarry played roulette like they drank, with abandon. Their losses never really mounted, because one, or the other would always catch a good drop and make back a bit.

The two men were clearly middle-eastern. One was a little over six feet and just under two hundred pounds. He had a runner's body and hawk like features. If it came to blows, I HAD to take him down first, or I wouldn't live long enough to worry about the other one. He was shorter, perhaps five foot seven, built exactly like a fire hydrant, and had no neck, what-so-ever. His arms looked like he'd spent his life getting into knife fights. There were scars running up, down, and all around.

Their women were classic euro trash. One was tall, slim to the point of anorexic, and skanky as the day is long. She might be able to suck the chrome off of a bumper, but you would want to put a bag over the rest of her emaciated body before jumping her bones.

There were four or five others, but one was the obvious favorite. She was spectacular. Imagine a woman so beautiful that every light in the hotel automatically switched itself on just to highlight her smile. This one was smart. Her eyes looked everywhere at once, and seemed to miss nothing. It occurred to me that she was muscle for these guys, instead of an easy lay.

If so, then she was probably hell on heels in a fight.

I watched her and my guess about her being a bodyguard was rewarded when she easily moved to cut off a gambler just before he would have tied to hit on one of the others. Her moves were smooth, quick, and so subtle that I almost missed how fast she defused the situation. She was one to keep an eye on, or she'd put me down in a heartbeat.

Winnie played the part of devoted lover very naturally, and since we were devoted lovers, it was quite easy for me to do the same. The men – Ahmad Hussein, Rafiq Fahs, and Wahib Massoud were elegantly dressed and couldn't appear more different. They also tracked Winnie as she dragged her hand along my arm, up to my neck, and leaned in to kiss me behind my right ear, to earn a deep, soul scorcher in return.

Hussein looked like a male model. Every hair was in place, and every seam of his clothing was perfectly straight. Fahs looked like he tried, but failed to look chic, and I could tell that Massoud couldn't care less what he looked like. His wealth and overblown sense of himself, were all that he was aware of as he played roulette and drank a lot of liquor. He should have shown more of the effect of his drinking, so it would bear watching to see