Chapter 1

Jack Borget eyed the lovely mulatto woman as she made her slow, swivel hipped way down the crowded street, her hypnotic walk taking his mind off the sweet, dank stink that seemed to pervade this beat up city. Port au Prince. Hah. Hardly royal, the beggars in the hidden corners of the ramshackle houses squeezed together aimlessly, all the niggers eyeing him suspiciously, talking so goddamn fast he had a helluva time following their patois, even though he was fluent in French. The coal black hair of the woman swung in counterpoint to her hips, her natural sensuality radiating back to him as he slowed so as not to catch up with her.

As soon as he got this deal done, he'd find one of those sweet chocolate honeys, give her the fucking of a lifetime. He knew his big cock would rival all these dumb bucks, and he knew how to use it. Too bad Renee had never adjusted to it, she was such a dead ass bitch, just lying there, letting him pummel her. To this day, she was fantastically sexy looking, those big tits and flowing blonde hair that had originally attracted him still as gorgeous as ever. Even before he had found out she was heiress to her father's huge importing company, Auberge.

Just last night, the heat making her sleep with just her panties on, when he had come in at midnight, after meeting his mob contact to set up todays buy,.she had been too sexy to resist. He had eaten her cunt through the silk crotch, and before she woke up, he had smelled and tasted her cunt cream. Then once she realized what was happening, she froze up, so he ripped away the flimsy garment, and plunged into her still wet pussy to take advantage of the lubrication. It had been three days since he had a decent piece of ass, from his mistress Trixy, so he shot after about ten strokes. As usual, Renee just lay there.

The mulatto woman turned right, crossing the street, and he got a good look at her ripe tits. Jesus, no bra, and they bounced invitingly inside the red, low cut blouse. She hardly seemed to look as she headed out into the dirty street, jumping once to avoid a car, flashing paler flesh as one boob tested the bodice. Gotta get me some of that delectable cunt, Jack thought, sooner rather than later. As she disappeared down an alley, his thoughts returned to his errand. It was dangerous, he knew, trying to do business here.

He supposed he could have stuck with the easy money he got from the simple transportation of cocaine in the various shipments his wife's company routinely recieved from a number of South American countries, the mob understood his need to keep it from Renee, even though he pretty much ran the operation. But her goddamn brother was suspicious, and he had to settle for paltry cash commissions on the shipments, rather than the big bucks that came from doing the buys and reselling.

Of course, there was more risk this way. Gene DiFazio, the three piece suit who always negotiated with him for the Italians, had offered to set him up, any time he wanted to, since they felt they could trust him further than the Columbians. But he warned that once you were in the middle of one of those deals, a lot could go wrong. Still, Jack felt good about the way it had gone so far. Trixy had been a big help, getting the goddamn Controller on tape fucking her, so now he had an ally. The dummy company he had set up in Austria had been easy to fill with money from Auberge transactions. It was just waiting to wire the money wherever the Haitians wanted it.

He provided the plane and pilot, they loaded it, and let it take off as soon as the last payment was made. All the new wireless phones made it a snap to accomplish. Instead of a puny three or four hundred thousand, his profit would be nearer ten million. And no need to launder it with a thirty percent loss. Then he could get rid of his cold wife, fuck Auberge, it wouldn't even know what hit it until he and Trixy were safely lolling in the sun of the Cote d'Azure. Gene had said it would cost peanuts to get Renee taken care of here in Haiti.

She had bitched like hell about coming on this trip, wanting to keep playing one up games with her Country Club buddies, but he had convinced her it would be interesting to see this little corner of the third world, and besides, it was just for four days. Jack did a little skip, thinking how great things were working out. Then he cautioned himself to calm down. The next couple of days were crucial.

He saw the sign. Madame Vicky. Readings. That was it. Ask for Andre. He pushed open the door. The smell changed to a heavy perfume, and it was cooler. Candles flickered all around the large room. There was an altar facing him, and to the side, a pot with smoke kind of trickling into the air. A doorway with beaded strings forming a curtain stood to the left of the rather busily filled space behind the rough stone. Little rattles echoed from wooden idols hanging around, moving with some unfelt breeze. Spooky as hell, he thought, just as a woman came through the curtain.

She could have been the twin of the mulatto girl he had followed down here, except she wore a shapeless black dress. The mounds of her breasts held the cloth away from her body, but she had to be slim. Her black hair, wide negroid lips, huge eyes, and small nose made her a knockout. Jack felt his cock twitch, and he wondered if she could be the piece of ass he would need deperately tomorow night. Her voice was soft, accented, and husky as she asked, in english, "May I help you, sir?"

He replied "I'm looking for Andre." She smiled, nodded and turned around, heading back through the curtain. As she did, he saw the hint of firm, sexy hips as she swayed away from him. He stood there, staring at the beaded strings as they closed around her, and reached down to adjust his cock. Just as he did, a man came through the same door.

"Ah, Mr. Borget. I have been looking forward to meeting you. I am Andre. Please come back with me, and we will have some coffee. Or perhaps you would like something stronger?" Before he knew it, he was through the door, and seated at a small, metal table, with several small placemats in a straw material. The light was still dim, and the mulatto woman came from a corner and stood beside Andre. "I believe you have met my sister. Angelique, this is Mister Borget."

The woman nodded, with a strange, half smile, half leer as she did it. Jack knew at that moment that he had to fuck her. As though she had read his mind, she nodded again, smiling a little more broadly. He felt his cock jump. That husky voice seemed loud in the soft light, with his ears ringing. "Let me serve you a lovely liquor we have that is native to our land, Mr. Borget. I am certain you will enjoy it."

She turned and moved to a small cabinet, in dark teak, nestled in a corner. He couldn't take his eyes off her hips as the material revealed first a dainty, yet firm ass, somehow the crack appeared fleetingly, then one thigh, as she stood on one foot pouring a white liquid into a small glass. As though from afar, he heard Andre's voice, seductively whispering "Is not my sister beautiful, Mr. Borget? And she is not shy, no, no, Mr. Borget. May I call you Jack? No, she loves to give men pleasure, Jack. I think you will find it unique. We are going to do dangerous business, my friend, and should be close to each other, don't you think? Yes, of course. The Columbians are such hard men, so unemotional, but you are not, are you? Yes, I can tell you are a sensual man, Jack Borget. And we can offer wonderful satisfaction for you."