Zero Alternative (10 page)

She looked even more gorgeous than before, if possible. Her face was not made up; her lustrous hair was unbound and cascaded well below her shoulders. Seen up close her skin was unblemished: a darker shade than he had thought as she danced on the stage. She was also a little shorter, maybe five foot eight.

She wore a light blue dressing gown, barely held together by a belt at her waist. As she approached him she let it slip off, coming to stand in front of him in a black strapless satin corset, suspenders and tights. He sat up straighter, finished his drink and studied her face; her eyes glinted mischievously and she twirled around, giving him a wink.

‘I hoped it might be you.’ The showgirl’s voice was husky, the excellent English obviously learnt in the US, with only a tinge of Latin cadence to it. ‘Do you like what you see?’

‘It’s shocking.’

Falena flashed him a smile and glided forward between his legs. She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back, making him slide against the backrest, then she leaned into him and her hair covered his face. Her mouth nuzzled his ear and she whispered, breath hot against his cheek, ‘I’m told I should treat you nicely, Mr Scott.’

I bloody hope so
. Walker’s fingers left the sofa and traced the contours of her hips, lingering on the back of her thighs and slipping upwards. She readjusted herself, planting a knee on the cushion between his legs and drawing closer, breasts pushing against his chest. His palms caressed her firm cheeks and descended again, along the seam of her tights, all the way down to her calves.

Falena bit his earlobe, nuzzling the line of his jaw until she reached his mouth. Her tongue darted forward and she licked his lips, but before he could react she drew back and shook a few strands of hair away from her face, a sly smile on the ruby-red, wide mouth. ‘I’m thirsty, did you get me anything?’

Walker pointed to his right. ‘It’s over there, behind you.’

Falena stood, always moving with an impossible elegance. She gave him her back, went to the glass coffee table and slowly bent lower, allowing him a great view of her perfect buttocks. She glanced behind her with a smile and gave her hips a wiggle, making him chuckle. God, she was good.

As she busied herself with his drink Walker lit another cigarette, her musky scent still lingering in his nose. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savouring the smoke mixed with her perfume. Again, lights flashed behind his eyelids and his head spun, though not unpleasantly.

Heartbeats later Falena was standing in front of him once more, his vodka tumbler in one hand and her bottle of Cristal in the other. She handed him the glass, lifted the champagne to her lips and took a long drink, her eyes closed. A few rivulets made their way down her chin and into the hollow of her neck. She rested the bottle on the floor and motioned to him. ‘Make me some space.’

Walker put his glass aside and readjusted himself, one foot against the sofa’s back and the other on the carpet while she snuggled into his legs, naked shoulder into his chest. He chased the drops of champagne into her corset and she shivered, then slid the cigarette from his lips, gave him a quick kiss and inhaled, purring like a satisfied cat. Walker relaxed, ready to simply enjoy what looked likely to turn into a hell of a night. His fingers ran through her thick hair, caressed her neck and traced the curve of her spine, lingering on the zip that would open her bodice.

‘Wait,’ she whispered. ‘Did you like my show?’

‘I loved it. It was worthy of the night butterfly.’

Her eyes lit up and she smiled, putting the cigarette back in his mouth. ‘Like a
falena
! How did you know that’s what it means?’

‘My mother was Italian.’

She drew back a few inches, her hand crawling up and unbuttoning the top half of his shirt. ‘I love Italy, I’ve always wanted to go. What is it like?’ Her fingers reached inside his collar, drawing down his pectoral ridge and coming to rest on his nipple, teasing it.

‘It’s the most beautiful country in the world. And you, are you really Spanish?’

‘Mexican. I’m half-Maya, that’s where my Bird Dance comes from.’

Walker smiled, his hand brushing her lips and lifting her chin up. ‘Please don’t tell me your real name is Kukulcan, or Quetzalcoatl.’

Falena stared at him in mock anger, then her head darted forward and she kissed him hard, her mouth opening hungrily. He did not resist and let his lips part, her tongue probing inside him. She
tasted of smoke, champagne and cinnamon, and he drank her flavour, unashamed.
Definitely worth the price of admission
. She locked her palm onto the back of his head, drawing him nearer and biting on his tongue, deeper. Then she let him go and kissed his eyes closed, lips sliding to his ear. Her hair tickled his face and he felt a stirring in his groin, the erection almost painful in his jeans.

Walker caressed her shoulders and unlaced the corset, her full tits tumbling out. He almost ripped off the garment; his other hand already cupping her left breast, worrying the hard nipple. She sighed in his ear, trembling slightly, and whispered, ‘Layla, my real name is Layla.’

Pienaar despised weakness, because it was a lot more fun to break people when they struggled and tried to resist
.

‘
No… I can’t give it to you
,’
the little man had sobbed
. ‘
It’s my whole life
.’

‘
Really? We’ll see about that
.’
He walked to the coffee table and shuffled his instruments, checking and repositioning them, making sure that his captive understood what he was preparing
. Pain always starts in the mind.

He finally picked up a couple of electrodes and the heavy battery and returned to his seat, dangling the copper wires from his fingers
.

‘
We’ll try something new, now
,’
he grinned
.

His free hand snapped forward and he ripped off the thick tape that covered the mathematician’s shrivelled penis and his testicles
.

DM screamed
.

Blood thumping in his temples, Walker let his fingers slide from Falena’s chest to her hard belly, tracing the contours of the navel and lower, down to the front of her G-string. Her breath accelerated in his ear and she shifted a little, mouth searching for his lips. No holds barred, then, he guessed. She slid her hips close and spread her legs wider as he drew the slim cloth aside. Her shaved vulva glistened, warm and inviting, and he slipped his thumb inside her just as her tongue burst through his mouth.

Her back arched and she drew him deeper against her crotch, swayed for a second, then took her head back to look into his eyes. Her skin was flushed red and she bit her lower lip, trying to suppress a grin. ‘You’re making me hot.’

‘You
are
hot.’ It was an astonishing performance, and for a second he wished it were fully real. Then he shrugged, deciding to just let his body have some fun.

Layla trailed her hand along his shirt and lower, lingering on his erection and giving his cock a gentle squeeze through his trousers. Moments later she stood up, squaring her shoulders to let him look at her magnificent breasts, the wide areolas a darker shade of brown. Quick as a cat she bent lower and picked up his packet of Marlboros, lighting one and drawing a breath before passing it over. Then she handed him his glass again and slowly raised the champagne bottle, lifting it level with her eyes.

‘I love Cristal. Thank you.’

Walker took a long swig of his vodka, grimacing at the unexpected, metallic flavour of the drink. It tasted odd, just a little too sharp. He breathed in some smoke, again feeling a little nauseous, shrugged and finished the tumbler in one go, the ice clinking against his teeth.

Layla licked the top of the champagne bottle sensuously and took it in her mouth, allowing a few rivulets to dribble once more down her throat. She twisted her head to one side and looked at him askance, with the ghost of a smile.

‘Oh, look, you’ve made me soil myself…’ her fingers slowly drew the clear droplets down to her breasts, and she continued, ‘…now you’ll have to clean me.’

Shuffling closer to Walker, she planted her legs again between his knees, placing her palms on the sofa, just wide of his head. Her firm tits were just inches from his eyes, dripping Cristal onto his chest. ‘Come on.’

Walker grinned, shifted his back and slid on the cushion, his hands going to her shoulders and quickly lower. His head threatened to explode from the burning heat at the centre of his brain, and light flashed in a million colours behind his eyelids.

His mouth opened to the warm softness of her breasts, his tongue avidly licking the pearls of drink from her hard nipples. His teeth teased her aureoles and then he went lower, along her sternum and almost reaching the navel before moving to the other side of her body, this time with more hunger, delighting in the taste of her skin.

Layla moaned and pressed her breast into his mouth, her fingers worrying the nape of his neck.
Walker’s hand slid to the sides of her legs, moving up to her thighs and buttocks, working towards the inside. She shifted her feet, opening up for him as his fingers burrowed inside her, caressing her clitoris. She moaned again, but after a few seconds she pushed off the sofa and straightened up, giving him a playful slap on the cheek. ‘My mama always told me not to trust good-looking men with grey eyes.’

I bet she did
.

Layla lowered herself to her knees, her breasts against his erection, and opened the last few buttons on his shirt. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Her mouth slid along his chest, licking and biting, and he decided he was going to implode. His heart thumped painfully and his throat felt raw, gritty. There was a buzz in his ears and parts of his brain grew detached, somehow floating on a dark sea. Still, the fire in his belly and hips was growing hotter as her lips descended to his stomach, fingers tracing his abdominal muscles, caressing one of the yellowish boxing bruises. Was she really…

Her head dropped lower and her mouth closed around the side of his hard cock, nibbling at it through the fabric of his thin jeans. After a few seconds she teased him with a sharp little bite and drew back, that satisfied smile back on her lips and in the glinting dark pupils.

‘Now we’re even.’

Walker sighed. ‘I don’t remember scoring any goals, yet.’

‘True. But we can’t,
here
.’ She stood up, glancing around the small private room.

‘I could have a word with the manager, if you want.’

Layla nodded and picked up her dressing gown, wrapping it around herself. ‘I hope your place is not on the other side of London.’

Walker jumped to his feet and almost fell, the room spinning around him. He steadied himself and smiled, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. ‘It’s not far, not far at all.’

Dark of the Night

Pienaar swore several times, almost shouting. He was enraged, and in the last few months his anger had proven more difficult to control
.

The mathematician had fallen unconscious again, his shallow breath laboured. The Aussie walked to the stereo and turned up the volume of the music before slipping into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He returned to the tied man and poured it on his head, ripping off the tape that covered his mouth
.

DM grunted, bloodshot eyes flickering open. His pupils were dilated and sweat covered his tortured body. He coughed sickly, then threw up some bile and sobbed again
.

‘
Now, now, there’s no need for that
.’
Pienaar grinned and lifted the battery, placing it between his captive’s feet. He unwound the wires, connecting them with the electrodes taped to the mathematician’s testicles, then looked up into his shuddering face
.

‘
Please… I can’t…
’
Tears glistened on DM’s thin cheeks, mixing with the mucus from his broken nose
.

‘
Where is the real DeepShare? How do we access it?
’

‘
No
.’

‘
As you wish
.’
Pienaar twisted a knob on the battery and DM’s body jerked, straining against the ties. His mouth opened in a silent scream, face contorted in a rictus of unimaginable pain. Then his head snapped backwards and bounced, chin coming to rest on the emaciated, bruised chest
.

Blood dripped from his nostrils and a fat crimson droplet fell from his ear, splattering the carpet. Pienaar lunged forward, immediately sensing something was wrong. His hand shot up to check DM’s pulse
.

‘
Fuck
.’

The mathematician’s heart had given out under the stress, and pain
.

This could turn into a serious inconvenience, but hopefully one of his associates would have better luck. Besides, the little Burmese coward might have let something slip that he had missed
–
he would need to check the recordings with care. Pienaar grabbed the satellite phone from his coat and dialled a number from memory
.

‘
What?
’
The Englishman’s voice at the other end was rough from sleep
.

‘
He’s dead
.’

Silence. The line crackled with static, then went quiet. The Aussie could hear some breathing, short, machine-gun like
. Bloody amateurs.

‘
Dead? How… why?
’

‘
Accidents happen in this business
.’

Another intake of air
. ‘
Did you get the software, at least?
’

Pienaar almost giggled. It sounded like there was more fun on the way
. ‘
No. The thing burnt itself out. Sounded good, though
.’

‘
So you have nothing?
’

‘
Maybe. Don’t forget the other target
.’

‘
I never forget anything, you stupid fuck. But this is a nightmare. What are you going to do now?
’

Pienaar sighed, pretending to ignore the insult. For now
. ‘
You tell me. Should I plant some of the stuff around the place?
’