Filthy Lucre by Andrew Stirling-Brown

Author:Andrew Stirling-Brown [Stirling-Brown, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Book, Prose, Novel
Amazon: B00COP1CJ2
Publisher: Big Finish
Published: 2013-05-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

SECRET STASH

Adam Yarryl broke the surface of the water about fifty metres from where Benny was watching. He flicked the droplets from his hair. Water cascaded from his chest, running down his firm six pack to the top of his tight swimming trunks. He waded confidently out, back on to the beach.

‘I’m coming to get you,’ he shouted.

‘You’ll have to catch me,’ Benny called, and they ran along the shoreline joking, laughing, and goading each other. When Adam eventually caught up with her, they fell onto the sand, rolling over and over in the surf before coming to a stop and kissing passionately, the waves lapping at their feet.

Then they walked hand in hand back to where they had left their clothes and towels by some rocks and lay down again and dried in the sun for a while. Eventually Benny spoke.

‘Adam, would you…’

‘Marry me?’ he completed.

‘… I was going to say rub some sun block on to my back, but hey.’

Adam leant over. ‘Yes is my answer.’

‘Marriage or lotion?’

‘Both.’

They kissed again. Benny turned over on to her front and he undid her bikini top. As he began massaging the cream into her back, she ‘Ooo’d’ with contentment and looked out at the glorious beach stretching away behind them and listened to the sound of the waves.

‘Bella, Bella Sol,’ she said in the cheesiest of Italian accents.

*

There was an electronic noise: the hum of a door opening. She heard footsteps entering and someone cleared their throat close to Benny’s ear. Sun, sea and sand disappeared as Benny reluctantly opened her eyes.

‘Why is it you always wake up just as you get to the good bits?’ she mumbled.

‘You have a visitor, Professor Summerfield,’ said the Venus-grade masseuse who’d been de-tensing her shoulders while she lay on the Total Comfort Couch.

Benny was in cubicle four, the pricey one, of the Sweet Dreams Suite. Delicate, low level coloured lights played over the darkened room to the sound of relaxing meditative chimes and ocean waves.

Apparently, though, the price didn’t guarantee privacy. She sat up, quickly slipping on the turquoise silk dressing gown from the stand beside her, as the Adonis-Grade attendant who’d just entered walked over, nodding his head in polite salute.

‘Please accept the sincere apologies of Bella Sol Pleasure Complex Limited for interrupting your session, madam, a statutory nought point five per cent will be deducted from your final bill for the inconvenience, but I am tasked with delivering this highly confidential communication to you.’ He handed over an old fashioned wax-sealed envelope.

She stared at it for a moment. ‘Fightback. I’ve been dreading this.’

She opened and read it. ‘Tell them I’ll come now. Soon. An hour say.’ She stood and handed back the letter. ‘They’ve promised to show me things, tell me secrets.’ She looked into the attendant’s attentive but neutral face. There was a faint tremble in her voice. ‘What if I don’t like any of them?’

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