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Chapter 1

 

- news flash - Body in River Monday   The body of a man was found floating in the Iguazú river this morning by a tourist boat. Mary (name withheld) said it was terrible. "We were just approaching the falls when the body appeared bobbing in the foam directly in front of us. We almost ran over it. The driver swerved and circled back and the crew pulled him in. The poor man must have fallen - or perhaps he jumped?" The body was discovered near the Brazilian side but was taken back to Argentina. Police are investigating and have not yet released details of the man's identity...   Iguazú Herald

 

Everywhere we look there's falling water. Down the track to the right is a lookout. Over the other side of the gorge is Brazil, where the cliff faces are covered by maybe a kilometre of falling curtains of white, windswept water. Here and there the curtains hang in gaps or are pushed aside by clumps of trees and bushes, like stagehands peeking out into a theatre before the performance.  

To the left, is a massive cascade that can be approached on a concrete walkway, suspended over the flat swirling waters below, in the mist of spray thrown up.

It's a wonderful bright sunny Saturday in Iguazú and the trees and flowers and fragrant shrubs are giving off that smell of contented growth in perfect conditions.  Even the local fauna is having a good time.  Already this morning I've seen several lizards and a ring-tailed coati, raiding the garbage bins for discarded delicacies.

And here I am shoulder to shoulder with this beautiful woman; leaning against the low handrail together on this deserted section of track; staring out into the bright mist; awed by the majesty of nature. Each of us aware of mounting arousal in the other, as we exalt in the power and volume of the numerous torrents before us.

***

There was no trouble finding Geraldo’s wife. She was wearing a light cotton dress in orange and lemon, fitted at the waist, flaring to a full calf length skirt, together with sensible matching orange canvas shoes with rubber soles in preparation for the boat. She was exactly where Geraldo had said she would be, about to take the boat-ride under the falls. It had been simple to wait until she arrived and then to follow her onto the boat.  It's un día perfecto para el amor, a day perfect for love.

Even the earlier hanging about waiting was auspicious. A tourist put his camera down on the seat when he took off his life-jacket. The wet jacket flopped to the ground just as his wife distracted him, calling for help to get out of hers. In all the fuss he didn’t even notice it was missing.  It’s a very nice Olympus ultra-zoom 7.1 Megapixels, with full video function. I’ll sell it when I get home but at least I’ll have the joy of ownership for a couple of days. In the meantime, it goes well with my new persona.

I wish all my work was this pleasant. I’ve tried being a private detective, a hired dick, but it's a hard way to make a living. So, mostly I’ve been a personal trainer; and on occasion, more literally, a gigoló. But I'm a boy from the Barrio. I have to live on my wits and that means: whatever I can get away with.  I've never expected too much more, so I'm happy.

The boat trip below the falls was great fun for us both. It goes right up into the neck of one of the falls tumbling down from Brazil, so that everyone can take photos.  And then all cameras are put into waterproof bags before it goes through the rapids and quickly under one of the falls, so that we all got wet. It's not the sort of thing I'd usually do but I loved it and so did she. 

It was the easiest thing to follow close onto the boat and sit beside her, at first simply holding her in place with my shoulder as the boat swerved and bucked. Within minutes she was grabbing my arm. She could obviously feel that I work-out and I’m pretty fit. And when the water wet her thin dress, and it became more transparent under her life jacket, I could see that she's in very good shape too, if you know what I mean.

Too soon the boat ride was over and we were back in Argentina, where, unlike that Australian fellow, I made sure that I didn’t let my new Olympus out of my sight. Soon, I was snapping away, telling her that I would send her a memory stick with the photos, if she gave me her contact details. At the same time, she was pretending to be a model, striking poses that were becoming increasingly naughty: hitching up her skirt; dropping a shoulder strap; as we got more comfortable together. I'll definitely be keeping some of those.

***

So here I am, just as Geraldo and I planned, standing in this romantic spot with my arm around his wife. 

I'm Latin, slim and medium height. Dark and handsome, all the Bocca girls tell me: como una estrella de cine, like a film star. She’s a Nordic type: fair skinned, with shoulder length raven hair that may not be its real colour. Even in flat shoes she's taller than me and a bit more athletic than I usually go for. Generally, I like younger, smaller girls, preferably with big pechos, who I can throw about on a dance floor. But dancing's not what we're here for; and I'm being paid, so the age thing is not an issue. In any case she's very beautiful, in a mature way, and immaculately groomed, as only women of her class can be.

Ever since she grabbed my arm on the boat, she's barely let go of me. 

I can tell that she really likes my muscular young body. She’s turning towards me now. I'm looking into her eyes. Yes, she's fallen completely in lust with me. And I have that tingling, aroused feeling, I get when sex is on the agenda. My mind is racing. Should I attempt to kiss her? If she kisses back, I'll know if my 'secret mission' is progressing as required.

Madre de dios! What a kiss! Her whole body seemed to consume me. I found myself wanting to take her now, right here, in full view. It's just as well she took control. I was right about how strong she is.

Around the bend people are talking, coming along the path. They sound Australian. We're back against the low rail pretending to look at the view. I'm hiding the camera; recovering my composure. What a surprise that was. They smile knowingly as they pass.

A little discrete squeeze of her hand and an acknowledging glance. We need a room. I’ll take her back to the car park and drive to: where? Her hotel or mine? 

I know it will be hers. Geraldo has left 'unexpectedly' for home to leave her alone in that luxury hotel room for the weekend. I’ll let her decide everything, then she’ll be entirely complicit.  It should be her own decision to have this 'little fling'. 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

But first things first. I have to keep up the charade. She mustn't realise that I'm a 'secret agent' on a 'mission' for her husband. To her, we're complete strangers who've met by accident on a boat and now find that we desperately want each other. 

“I don’t even know your name?”

“Kikka,” she lies, smoothly with no hesitation. I can tell that she’s been unfaithful before. 

“It's German... And yours?” 

“Diego. It's Spanish..." I lie too. It's the alias I rehearsed with Geraldo: "Diego for James - James Bond.”

"Will you come to my hotel Kikka? It’s nice.”

Actually, it's very nice, somewhat above my league, courtesy of Geraldo's 'spending money'.

"I've got a little rental-car in the car park," I add.

“My hotel is very nice; and we can go in my, big car,” she counters.

“Ok, I can leave my car here, if you’ll bring me back later?”  That’s a nice touch, it puts me at her mercy.

Now her hand takes mine. She doesn’t want to let me go until we get to her bed.  She’s pulling my arm over her shoulder.

I ‘accidently’ brush her nipple with my wrist… She pulls my hand down so that I do it again.

As I first realised on the boat, and again as we embraced on the cliff-top, she's wearing a very thin bra under that dress. And now her nipples are hard, jutting against the fabric.

***

We're approaching her car. I recognise it from Geraldo's briefing. Third row, fifth space up, white Lexus. She’s getting out the tag thingy.

“Would you like to drive?” 

Of course, I would. I lead her to the passenger's side, taking the opportunity to lean over her and do-up her seatbelt, carefully straightening it over her breasts. She giggles at my lustful attentions as I retreat. Then I go around and fall into the driver’s seat like a racing driver. Without another word the car is silently rolling between the rows.  

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You know the Sheraton?” 

I nod, and as soon as I’m clear of the car park I show her how fast a Lexus can accelerate, deliberately starting in the dirt. I'm James Bond! She’s startled and excited… 

Her hand is on my thigh, as I speed, well above the limit, like Fangio. She's loving it.

***

It’s amazing to think how this all came about.

It must have been a month ago.

I hadn’t seen Geraldo since we were best friends together, as kids then teenagers, in the Barrio. 

 

 

Geraldo has made good. He learned the Tango, when we all thought that was gay, and soon became a famous teacher. I used to see his pictures up around La Boca. He' macho, handsome and well built, like me. He could be my twin, but he set up a studio and women flocked to it, to be taught ‘The Dance of Lust’. Now he's a famous celebrity judge on the hit TV show: Stars do the Tango.

As his fame grew, he could afford to be selective about his pupils. One day Diana DeMain, a recently divorced heiress, society hostess and now a local political candidate, supposedly worth over a hundred million, tangoed into his life.  He literally swept her off her feet. 

I bumped into Geraldo quite by chance. He'd been saying a particularly intimate farewell to a beautiful woman and turned away to bump into me. At first, I thought it must be Diana, his famous wife, but I discovered later it was one of his mistresses. I didn’t expect him to acknowledge me at all.  If the situation had been reversed, I wouldn't have admitted to knowing a petty criminal from the Barrio. Particularly one who knows what I know about him.

But quite the opposite! He greeted me like his long-lost brother; said he was in a hurry; but suggested we meet later for a drink. So, I wasn't surprised when he named a real out-of-the-way dive. It's not quite the style he has become accustomed to; but not somewhere that his new friends would be likely to see him with me. Yet when he turned up looking so disreputable, I was surprised. Had he walked through the streets dressed like that: a homeless bum, wearing cheap sunglasses?

Anyway, he quickly explained. He was in disguise. He was in need of un agente encubierto, an undercover agent, who could easily seduce a woman.   

He reminded me of various conquests I'd made with girls who went to the local Convent school; how I'd even seduced his girlfriend; and how he and I had run our fake charity and conned Sister Angelique, who'd spent so much time teaching us English, to hand over all the money in the charity account for our fictitious home for the elderly. We laughed so hard at that.

After a few drinks we had a fine time bragging about our more recent conquests.  Then he declared that I was just the man he was looking for to seduce his wife, who went for our type, and liked a little extra-marital fling occasionally.

He explained that she's running at the next election and that he has no desire to be a political handbag if she wins office. He's also discovered that she has affairs with other people. And although it's expected in a man, he won't put up with that in his wife. Married women aught to be mothers; be true to their husbands; make a home; and care for his children. They should not go running around having affairs with other men. That's intolerable. Of course, I agreed with him.  

So, he needs his wife to have another fling with me, so he can get some really juicy images, preferably video; evidence of her infidelity, that he can use as grounds for a divorce. 

That's why he and I mustn’t be recognised together and I must be incognito and un-linkable to him on this mission.  I’m to be co-respondent in what should be a very lucrative divorce. But in full view, not under the covers, you understand, yes? We laughed so much at that! Over-cover, undercover! I'm smiling now. 

He gave me an envelope with a thousand US dollars in it; for expenses and told me to have my hair cut; and get a manicure; and buy some new clothes at Abercrombie & Fitch, that would make me look respectable and well off, pants cotton shirt, walking shoes and a good light weight jacket suitable for the boat. He'll pay me another five thousand for the camera card. And "I can assure you you'll have fun!"

 

Chapter 3

 

 

Yesterday at my hotel, here in Iguazú, was only the third time Geraldo and I've met, or talked, since leaving the Barrio, nearly twenty years ago. When he gave me the first thousand, we agreed to meet the day before the planned seduction, for him to show me recent pictures of Diana on his tablet, and to give me an idea of her plans for today. He was ultra-cautious.  He parked some distance away, in a flower nursery, and disguised in old gardening clothes, walked half a kilometre to the hotel, wearing a baseball hat and dark glasses. Afterwards he pocketed his hat and removed his jacket, before returning by a different route. 

His cloak-and-dagger antics and my new wardrobe made me feel that I really was James Bond, his secret agent on this mission. 

When we met in the bar, Geraldo had explained that Diana thinks of him as her plaything. He was getting a bit drunk and complained that she likes to be treated as a goddess. Apparently 'Diana' is another name for Artemis, the ancient Greek goddess of the hunt, who lived on Olympus. The joke is that Artemis is also the goddess of chastity! Her parents have a lot to answer for. They were well off but her money is her own. She took her wealthy first husband to the cleaners when he had an affair. So Geraldo sees nothing wrong with doing the same to her.

Her second husband lasted only a few months before he was kidnapped. The ransom went wrong and he was killed, along with his kidnappers, when their van spectacularly exploded in flames during a police-chase. It was in all the newspapers. His death left her a grieving young widow; but this time with her husband's entire estate; and very wealthy indeed.

He's her third, with no wealth, her toy-boy. So he complained at length about the arrogant way she treats him, as if she's the goddess on Olympus and he's her mere servant. Thinking back that's funny. I've been taking pictures of her all day with my stolen Olympus. 

I'm loving this mission. I would have taken this for expenses only! To think I'll net over five thousand US and I've even picked up an expensive Olympus camera as an additional benefit. I'm feeling like James Bond in these clothes. The only thing I'm missing is a Barretta strapped under my arm.

One thing doesn’t make sense. Early this morning Geraldo crossed into Brazil. Then he took a flight to Rio and an international flight back to Buenos Aires. He obviously didn't mean to tell me about this plan. He's not always the sharpest tool in the box and it slipped out. He looked confused and blustered when I asked him why he didn't simply fly out on a domestic flight from the Argentine side? I'm not sure I should believe that it was so the divorce lawyers could confirm that he was back in BA when Diana met me and started the affair. The only explanation I can think of for doing it was to ensure that his identity and the time was recorded: at passport control at the border in Iguazú, Brazil; and then again, at passport control in BA. But why could that be important?  

Maybe it's just to show Diana where he is if she gets suspicious and checks on his movements? Maybe its just the way his mind works. Yet it seems more like building an alibi. But what for?

And this deal seems too good. As an experienced con-man myself I know that when a deal seems too sweet there's always something wrong. Is he trying to pin something on me? Maybe he wants her dead? Could I be his fall guy? But how?

One thing's for sure, I don't believe his divorce story. Being married doesn't seem to slow him down. And why kill the goose that lays his golden eggs?

***

Obviously, I don't intend to harm his wife, except for a fairly vigorous fuck, getting more vigorous by the minute, with her hand moving up my thigh like this.  

Geraldo can't be plotting my death. He hardly knows me anymore and it can't be over that girl, who's long gone, to her heart defect.

Wait a minute! I wonder if Diana has some health condition like that? A weak heart? Does he think I'll fuck her to death?

I adopt my best 'James Bond' voice: “Kikka, you are really turning me on doing that. I can’t wait to have you. But I don’t want to hurt you",

I'm channelling Sean Connery but I'm playing down the Scottish accent: “I’m quite nervous the first time with someone, because I put my first girlfriend into hospital. She had a weak heart. It was terrible. She suddenly had a pain in her left arm and I knew immediately.  I called an ambulance just in time.” 

“Are you kidding? " She sounds incredulous. "That's total bullshit! Why would you make that up? Why don't you just say: I'm the greatest lover in the universe.  I could fuck you to death!"

"If that’s your best line, it’s not a turn on, it’s insulting. No! I don’t have a weak heart. Or any other fuck-threatening ailment!”

Her hand has fallen from my thigh and she’s pouting. But at least it eliminates one possibility. 

A shake of her head… She’s considering. Does she want this or not?

Oh, thank goodness, the hand is back… higher than ever.  She’s squeezing me and biting my ear, rather too hard. A punishment?

"I've got a little fantasy I want you to play out for me." She's whispering in my ear as she snuggles in close. "Would you like to hear what it is?"

Of course, I would. "Yes," I reply. But it's too late, we’re here…

"Swing into that car space over there..." she instructs me.

 

Chapter 4

 

 

This is a really great location for a hotel.  It's long and low, five or six stories, with spectacular views to the falls. A wilderness of jungle, that starts immediately below the manicured gardens, extends all the way to the mists rising off the falling waters, down there, in the middle distance.

A Premier Suite!  It’s a lot better than I’m used to. Just as Geraldo described, the double room space is open plan, partially divided by a central timber console unit on which stands a huge flat-screen TV, separating the bed/bath and a huge sitting area. 

There is a square glass topped dining table on which stands an expensive looking bronze semi-nude: a Gypsy dancer, with castanets held high.  In front of a black leather three seat sofa is a low coffee table, with a huge vase of flowers at its centre.  The suite is ideal for my present purpose, the nicest I've ever seen. But I suppose to Diana, with all her millions, this is the bottom of the range - slumming. 

There on the central console unit is the clock. The clock that is really a camera. Geraldo certainly went to a lot of trouble to show it to me yesterday and watch me remove and replace the memory card to be sure I can get it quickly: "perhaps while she's in the loo after you finish". 

The 'drop', that's spy talk, for leaving the memory card for him is a locker at the airport, on my way out. He's made an extra key for the locker so we have one each. 

The clock is very clever. It starts filming as soon as there's movement in its field of view. It has face recognition software and pans and zooms to keep figures and movement in frame. 

***

Diana's wasting no time.

“Unzip me darling, and we’ll see if you can put me in hospital.” 

Her dress slips from her shoulders, falling to the floor. With a rippling half-shell about her feet, she reminds me of the poster of Botticelli's Birth of Venus, that decorated my mother's room back in the Barrio.

She's undoing the buckle on my belt and loosening my pants. Her hand is slipping down to check me out. Damn she’s a good kisser. She smells hot. And her body is so sexy. I've become very hard down there. She's pulled it free from my pants.

But I’m really uneasy now. Something doesn’t add up.

I realise. It's my prints! Geraldo wanted my fingerprints on the clock inside and out! 

I am being set-up as the fall guy for something and Geraldo can be evil. Back in the barrio he once stabbed and killed a homeless man, just to see what it felt like.

But I’m committed now. If I pull out now Geraldo will want his first money back; and there's another five thousand at stake.

"Just wait a minute," I say and rush to the bathroom to have a pee - and a think.

What can I do? I've already spent most of the first thousand and to get the next instalment I have to leave him a memory card in a locker at the airport, complete with a video of me fucking his wife. But I need to get my prints off that clock. I could go back in there and pretend to admire the camera-clock and give it a nice little polish with this hand towel. But that will be very obvious and my prints are still inside it. I'll just have to hope that I get a chance to wipe it, inside and out, later. 

Oh hell! Now that I’ve peed I've lost interest in putting on this show. And it shows. I'll just have to get back into the mood.

Diana's standing, almost naked, by the bed. She must be in full view of the camera. She's beckoning me over to her. She wants me to unclip her bra.

"You know I said I have a fantasy," she's saying, as I fiddle with the hook things. "Would you like to hear it now?"

"Yes," I reply. I'm James Bond again, Mr Cool.

"I'm in an expensive restaurant with my husband - we have a private room. Unbeknown to Geraldo, I have a secret lover, who's hiding under out table. Do you know why?"

"No," I say - I've no idea what she's talking about.

"He's a handsome stud, just like you. And as I eat, so does he. Now do you understand? My husband doesn't know and mustn't find out. The stud's job is to make this as difficult for me as possible. Do you think you could do something like that?" 

"Like what?"

"You're being a bit thick. For me some oral sex is essential at the start of my little flings." 

As her meaning is clear now I'm cold with horror. ¡Ay dios mio, that's revolting.

I've heard of it of course, but always mocked it. No macho man would never do that. It's unhygienic. A woman taking a man in her mouth is normal and expected. A man does it to dominate her, when he demands it, whether she likes it or not. Grab her by the hair or the back of her head.

I'm certainly not going to do that for her! If it wasn't for the money I'd be out of here, right now. 

She's been smiling seductively, undoing my shirt as she speaks. No, she's unzipped my pants. I feel them drop to my ankles. She has her arms around my neck kissing me. Now she's pushing down on my shoulders as if she wants me to get down there. I'm panicking in front of that camera. I've lost my erection completely and I can't get it up!

I must look like a maricón; limp while being pushed down by this beautiful, naked woman. And it's all being recorded by that damn camera. There's no way I'm going down there. This is a disaster. Yet, I'm thinking of the money.

Suddenly I'm on my back.

 

Chapter 5

 

 

How long have I been asleep? It's getting dark out.

It's been the most bizarre and exhausting afternoon of sex I’ve ever had. 

My mission was to seduce Diana for the camera. But it was she who dominated me. I'll be compromised by that video too. My macho reputation will be ruined after how I behaved.

With my pants around my ankles, she caught me off balance and twisting her hip somehow, threw me onto my back on the bed. Then she calmly climbed on top; pinned my shoulders with her knees and forced herself down over my face. I struggled to get free, flailing my legs, but she slapped me down with her fists to my kidneys so hard that I gave up. It was as if I was being raped by her, for the camera. Anyway, I'd gone soft and couldn't have performed normal sex, so I had no option but to give in and do as she demanded.

Later, as we had sex properly, I thought of Geraldo watching that rape scene; or showing it to his mistress; or to his new friends; while they all laughed. My unmanly capitulation and then my growing arousal, as she enjoyed herself, will be obvious to anyone watching the video. If it gets out that a woman had her way with me like that, my reputation, around BA, will be ruined.

Geraldo probably knew his wife would do this to me and he wanted to have his revenge for those girls I stole from him, back when. Or maybe he collects porn videos of women dominating men? Well, he's going to be disappointed. Not only am I going to remove my prints, I'm going to edit out the first part of the video, before I send it on to him. There's more than enough regular sex on there to satisfy my part of the bargain.

The good thing is, that I've learnt what it is these upper-class bitches want from a gigoló. Once I gave in, and followed Diana's comprehensive instructions, the tables turned a bit and she was responding to me. So, it wasn't as bad as I'd imagined. No more one-night stands that lead nowhere for me. I'm going to make some real conquests, with generous women who keep coming back to me.

***

Diana's finished her shower and has put on a black silk robe. As she is obviously aware, it frames her pale, naked body and makes it seem even more lustrous. She smells fresh again and seems even more seductive than she did earlier. She seems to have bewitched me; or I'm falling in love. I suggest dinner and then ask, hopefully: if, maybe, I could stay the night?

"We can't go down for dinner together, if that's what you're thinking, so I'll call Room Service. And you'll have to go into the bathroom when they get here." she declares, picking up the phone.

I can't believe my ears! She's ordering a double serving of rare steak and some vegetable thing from the menu, without even asking me! She didn't even ask me how I like my steak. Just went ahead, as if I'm her child or a servant.

"So, is that a yes to me staying the night? And what if I don't like steak? You're being very high-handed Kikka."

"You're not my guest. You're my pickup. And now you've begged to be my toy-boy for the night. I'm paying - and this is Argentina, the home of the best steaks in the world. You'll eat it or you'll go hungry. Anyway, rare steak will compliment your newly acquired taste preferences." 

Now she's mocking me for doing those disgusting things for her!

 

Chapter 6

 

 

The food is the best I've ever had. But over dinner I've had time to think some more.

I'm not stupid. Something about all this is definitely wrong. The sex video went far too far for my liking and I decided that Geraldo likes seeing his wife dominate other men. Yet that doesn't explain his need for an alibi or my fingerprints all over that clock-camera. 

I get up and wonder over to it holding my napkin and absent-mindedly give it a polish.

Oh, Hell! I can't stand this deception. This woman is fantastic, I must be falling in love. I want this relationship to go on and yet I know I'm being set-up somehow. I’m going to pull-the-plug on this, right now, or it will be much harder later on.

“Diana.” That startled her. “I have to tell you something that you're not going to like.”

“Diana? My name is Kikka!” she immediately insists.

“No, it’s not. Your husband Geraldo hired me to seduce you for divorce evidence. But I'm convinced he’s up to something else, much worse.”

"What! You little bastard!" She advances on me and strikes me so hard across the side of my head that things go black for a moment.

As I stagger from the blow she points to the door: "I want you out of here right now!" 

Leaving is the last thing I want to do and I can't leave without the stolen Olympus and the card from the camera-clock. The Olympus is across the room under my jacket with my keys. But I can't grab the clock and run for it. I wouldn't make it to the lift before she called security. I'd be caught with a number of stolen items.

“Please listen.” I plead. My head is pounding.  “I’m telling you this because I like you and there's something wrong. I didn’t have to say anything. I could just have walked out of here after we made love, as instructed.”

I try to change my tone: “I think Geraldo might be going to kill you and pin it on me. I thought I was his childhood friend, but now I think he's just using me."

"He told me he wanted a divorce and he's paying me five thousand US dollars to be his agente encubierto to seduce you and get video evidence of your infidelity."

She's just staring at me angrily. She doesn't believe me. I'll have to show her the camera in the clock.

“Look at this clock, it’s a video camera. It's not the hotel's. Geraldo left it here before he went. Yesterday he made sure that I handled it. It has my prints all over it, inside and out." 

***

I'm speaking desperately, trying to explain my fear. I'm trying to talk it through, as much for myself as for her.

“He's organised a watertight alibi for this weekend. It's an alibi for some event here, probably when you are killed. Or maybe it's me, or both of us, who will die? 

I want her to help me solve this puzzle: "It makes no sense. I'm not going to kill you so why hire me to seduce you?” 

"He certainly wouldn't he go to all this trouble just to kill me. Even though I know some bad things about him. I couldn't prove them anyway. Do you know he's a killer?"

She looks incredulous: "Kill me! That's nonsense. What are you supposed to do for him?"

“If I follow his instructions, I'll fly out tomorrow morning after leaving the memory card from this camera-clock in a locker at the airport. I have a key he gave me. I'll show you." I get her the key from my jacket with the locker number on it.

I..."

She's holding up a threatening hand to stop me saying any more.

“You must think I’m a total fool." she says.  "An airport locker? How will he get this key after you use it? And that camera-clock was already here after we arrived yesterday. How did you get it in here? You've been stalking me. You’re a blackmailer! That's what the five grand is all about isn't it?"

"Geraldo brought the clock in; and he'd made a duplicate key."

“Don't be ridiculous! He's not that smart. You know this place. You drove straight here. You planned this somehow!" 

"What made you change your mind and tell me? Was I that good in bed?" she sneers.

Shouting now: “No!  You’ve just changed your dirty little blackmail plan, thinking you can go for the main prize. No measly five grand for you.”

What? What's she saying?

“You think you're so fantastic - 'mister I'll put you in hospital' - that after just one afternoon with you, I’ll throw Geraldo over, just like that:" She snaps her fingers.

"All you have to do is convince me that my husband is evil, for me to throw him out and take up with you?  You’re mad!"

 

Chapter 7

 

 

I have to admit, looking at it that way, it's the most plausible explanation. I am falling for her; and it did cross my mind that I wished I'd found her first. Rich, beautiful and incredible in bed.

She's angry now. “You haven’t told me a single true thing since we met. That lovely boat trip.  And waxing lyrical about the falls.  And that romantic lookout. Then our carefree, ‘secret’, afternoon together."

"Now my nasty, murderer husband, who is secretly in league with you, is planning to divorce me. Or, even murder me! All lies!” 

"OK I was lying about my motive and my identity. But I'm telling the truth now. Geraldo has already paid me a thousand US dollars spending money, to get incriminating pictures for a divorce. And he will pay me a further five thousand for the camera card."

“Your story is ridiculous," she sneers. "There's no way that he'll get a dime if he divorces me. Do you think I would marry a tango instructor without a watertight pre-nuptial agreement?"  

"Then why did he tell me to get evidence for a divorce?"

"Because he didn't. You're lying! He flew to BA because he's judging the finals of a dance competition on TV. And probably, to spent a couple of nights with one or more of his 'dance' partners. It's not at all unexpected. He's young. I let him have his little flings. And while he's away it gives me the freedom to do this. So, there's no way he wants a divorce, even though I'll make him pay dearly for his infidelity later. He'll be back here on Monday full of remorse and cringing at my every movement, like a naughty puppy dog waiting to be punished for getting into yet another pantry."

"I'm not lying!  He must have some other way of getting to your money.  He must be planning to murder you somehow and pin it on me. He'll secretly return. Maybe a compliant dance partner will be his alibi."

"Geraldo is not my main beneficiary, and he would be a fool to kill me. I'm his golden goose. He knows he wouldn't be able to maintain his spendthrift lifestyle if I die. My trust controls everything, including his allowance. And I'm not about to change my will or take out insurance for that cheating gigoló. I don’t believe in providing incentives for wife-killing.”

***

She’s right! I’ve been barking up the wrong tree! My idea is obviously nonsense. But if he's not getting a divorce, he's definitely setting me up for something else. So, what's his angle? 

She said it! Blackmail. That’s it! It's because she's running for public office. He's going to use the video of her debauchery with me to blackmail his own wife. He’s going to step into the shoes of our dreamt-up, fictional Diego, a blackmailing gigoló she met on holidays - Diego who secretly filmed her doing those scandalous things with him on the bed.  He's obviously very familiar with her kinky preferences and knew what to expect 'above the covers'.

I can imagine it now. He'll be wonderfully forgiving and supportive. After all, she's apparently forgiven him many times, at least by her account. But he'll be terribly concerned for her political career and reputation: "Now that you're standing for office you must protect your reputation at all costs."

So, her bid for public office has provided his opportunity to get his hands on her money. He'll recommend paying the blackmailer. "Our detective has tried everything to find Diego. It seems impossible. He must be in Switzerland or somewhere, under an assumed identity. But he’s not asking more than your career is worth, so pay him. This video is a lot more scandalous than photos of Fergie having her toes sucked. You certainly don’t want this sort of X rated thing all over the Internet! These days it's so easy - the click of a button and your political career is ruined.” 

So, everything points to me as her future blackmailer. Diana must be about to call the cops.

***

I’m in serious trouble. No one will believe me. I’m in a bugged room with my prints all over the place. Even inside the camera. She'll correctly say that I used it to video us making love, without her knowledge or consent. My story about a stopping a murder or collecting evidence for a divorce is nonsense.  And there is absolutely nothing to link me with Geraldo, except that I knew him as a boy. 

I might still have been OK if I didn't have a hot Olympus that's probably already been reported missing. It has a traceable serial number and on its xD memory card are the original owner’s pictures, ahead of the ones I took this morning of Diana being provocative on the paths around the falls, providing more potential blackmail material.

Ok, I need to re-think this. My suspicions about Geraldo's strange flight schedule led me to confess to Diana, instead of just leaving after sex with the card from the camera-clock as he instructed. So, I've inadvertently wrecked his blackmail plan.

Where does that get me? Now Diana will obviously want to wipe the camera's memory card. That doesn't help. The cops will understand that she did it to protect her modesty and my fingerprints alone tell the story. Geraldo will, naturally, proclaim his innocence. He might even acknowledge that he once knew me, saying I've always been a lying little cheat who once even conned a Nun, poor, trusting Sister Angelique. He'll say that my jealousy of his success is my motive for targeting his wife and him. Anyway, it's the word of a wealthy TV celebrity against mine, a petty criminal. I can't win that one.

My only hope now is to raise enough doubts about Geraldo's role in this, for Diana to let me go. If I agree to clean up the evidence, then walk away as if nothing happened, she might just let me go. I doubt she wants to have any of this leak out, so she won't want me arrested and sent to trial.

But if she calls the cops and shows them a video recording clock, with my fingerprints inside it. I’m gone! And if, on top of that, they find the stolen Olympus with more compromising photos I'll be gaoled for sure. 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

I need to stay calm and think.

Geraldo has obviously been planning this for months. He's obviously smarter than I thought and has had time to anticipate the obvious pit-falls:  What if I didn’t go through with it or Diana rejected me? Then I don't get the next four thousand and he is clear to try again later with another 'agent'. What if I got caught? Then I'm in this predicament. He simply denounces me as a little cheat he once knew, using my inside knowledge to attempt to blackmail his wife with my Camera-clock. What if I kept the card and used it to blackmail Diana myself? That's his greatest risk. How could he deal with that?

 

Damn! It probably doesn't even record! That way he avoids me using the pictures myself and simultaneously removes the risk of the card falling into other hands should I lose it somehow. All he needs is a second hidden camera that I know nothing about. So there must be another video camera in this room. And I’m truly stuffed. 

A cold realisation sweeps over me. It's me he's going to kill! I know too much. That’s why his alibi has to be strong. It's to avoid suspicion in a later Police murder investigation. I'm the only other person who knows the real identity of Diego, his wife's mystery lover and future blackmailer. Ghostly Diego won't start blackmailing Diana with those scandalous and, for a political candidate, very compromising images, until I'm dead.

He can't leave me around to be found by an investigator and wreck his plans.  And if the blackmail starts before the investigation of my death, it gives him a motive. That's why he made absolutely sure that there was nothing to connect me with him. Should they look for some reason, investigators will confirm that he left before Diana met me and returned, after I flew out.  

He obviously arranged all this to coincide with him judging the tango talent show on TV in BA and is very likely taking dance partners to nightclubs tonight, and somewhere tomorrow to be seen in public. His bed partners will further secure his alibi. 

There's no evidence he's seen me for nearly twenty years. He's gone to a great deal of trouble to demonstrate that he could not have known, or even care, about his wife's one night stand with some unknown gigoló. He's eliminated any obvious connection or any motive for killing me, forestalling any suspicion falling on him, when I'm found dead.

What can I do? I need to get away. But if I run now, Diana will immediately call Security. That's assuming I can get away from her. And I'll have to run, literally. This hotel is in the back-of-beyond and I don't have my rental car here, it's back at the falls.

***

Geraldo's plan is crystal clear to me now and I try to tell Diana.

"Can't you see it's not me who's the future blackmailer, it's Geraldo. I wouldn't have said anything if it was my plan."

Diana seems uncertain.

"You're a self-confessed liar. Why should I believe you any more than I trust Geraldo?"

Good! There's slight note of doubt in her voice. She's starting to think Geraldo might be behind this. She's examining the clock like an expert. She's the most competent and alluring woman I've ever known.

"Sit on that couch!” she orders. “I'm going to take the memory out of this clock and see what’s been recorded. Then I’ll decide what to do with you."

She’s got a card reader in her luggage! She immediately understood the fake clock. She must be quite tech-savvy. She’s hooking the reader up to the USB port on the TV... 

This could be my way out. Geraldo must've considered the risk that I would keep the recording for my own purposes, to sell to the highest bidder. In that case the memory card is bound to be blank or unusable. It's the Achilles heel in his plan. If there's no evidence that it actually recorded anything, it might persuade Diana that I'm right about Geraldo and she might just let me walk away.

On the other hand, that will confirm that there is another, better, camera in this room. In that case Geraldo will expect to have some quality blackmail evidence involving me. So, when I get to the locker there'll be no money. He'll attempt lure me to somewhere, with a promise of my second payment, then kill me.  So that's what the second payment is for. It's the bait in his trap. He couldn't care less about the memory card.

Geraldo's been much cleverer than I thought him capable of. I always thought he was a 'pretty boy' but dumb as a post. Yet he's ensured that I'm totally incognito here as his 'secret agent' and, as instructed, I've been careful to cover my tracks. No one knows where I am; or will miss me for weeks. If Diana goes to the police, when the blackmail starts, and shows them enough video for them to recognise me, I will already be dead, miles away, in back-alley, like that tramp. Even if my corpse is recognised and some smart detective links me to the blackmail, Geraldo would still in the clear.

He carried a stiletto in the Barrio.  He was the knife man. I was the brains.  So, I can expect his stiletto in my guts very soon! Madre de dios! I can imagine walking in a dark, deserted place. An arm is suddenly around my neck from behind. And his stiletto is driving upwards, through my guts into my heart.

Except I've now told Diana. Fingers crossed, that might be enough to stop him if she confronts him. I just need her to have insufficient evidence of blackmail for her to call the police. She might then decide not to initiate unwanted interest in her private affairs.

 

Chapter 9

 

 

Diana's stopped fiddling about with the technology.

“Before we settle down to enjoy the, hole by hole, replay of this afternoon's game," she says. "We’ll start with your camera and run thought the photos you took of me this morning, to see if any of those poses is too raunchy. I might need to keep those for my collection. The rest will have to go I'm afraid.”

"Oh shit!" I thought she's forgotten it. She’s gone straight to the stolen Olympus. It was under my coat on the chair. If she looks at the content of memory card in that Olympus, she'll discover I stole it. That's reason enough for her to call Security and turn me in, without risk to herself. Those people don't like petty thieves.

I can already hear the sirens in my imagination.  At least jail might save me from Geraldo's stiletto. But I'm not sure which is worse. Big men in prison are said to like handsome boys like me. At least the stiletto will be quick.

She’s taking the xD card out of the Olympus...

Now I’m deep mierda.  The hotel phone is by her hand. Will she call Security?

On the 60-inch TV, larger than life-sized images, of total strangers, appear on the screen. Two men and a woman. But amazingly, they are near the pool at my hotel.

A second woman must be taking the photos. There’s a camera case on the table, and a woman's bag.  

“Who are these strange people?" Diana demands. "Friends of yours? Who’s this, and this? And who's holding the camera?”

Ok, I'll have to make up an excuse: “It’s not actually my camera.” I’m stammering. “I picked it up at the boat place. Someone had lost it. I was going to hand it in today.”

"So, you thought you would give them some bonus photographs of me posing for you?" she smirks. "I don't think so! I think you're a liar, a thief and an attempted blackmailer."

She’s still scrolling forward, through the Olympus owner’s photos, looking for the ones I took of her.

“Wait a minute!" She scrolls back and enlarges the image: "There’s you and Geraldo talking in the background. And here you are again. And he’s got an arm around you, like an old friend." 

“My god! You're telling the truth about that prick!” she declares.

 

Chapter 10

 

 

 

Now Diana is looking back through the photos with minute interest. “These people must be staying at the same hotel”

She is looking at me differently.  She comes over and sits beside me.  “You’re right.  Everything you said about him is true. Geraldo is going to blackmail me, pretending to be you, to get at my money.  The gold-digging, murdering, cheating, bastard!" 

She's become concerned. "He's going to kill you. That's why he's made sure that there's nothing to connect him to your corpse. I'm the only one with an obvious motive for your death. He might even be intending to implicate me and then hold it over me to make me change my will. There's no way I could plausibly establish a connection between him and you. But I've been sleeping with you and he'll have the evidence. If you seem to have been blackmailing me, I have a strong motive."  

With relief in her voice, she concludes: "No way of connecting you two, except for the chance discovery of someone else's holiday snaps in this camera you stole." 

She's sees it all immediately.

Now she suggests a way for me to avoid Geraldo's stiletto: "I can post these images of you two together on a public site, like an album in Google or on Instagram, then SMS Geraldo with the URL to forestall him. His alibi and motive will both be blown and he won't be able to kill you without suspicion falling on him."

Diana is much smarter than me! In a single instant she has solved the whole puzzle. 

Not only that, she's also realised that there must be a back-up camera. “We need to search this room top to bottom, starting with those suspicious smoke detectors; and that dancer; and that vase." she says, looking around.  

"Let’s hope we don’t find any cameras connected to the internet, otherwise I may soon be the celebrity sex-scandal sensation of the year.” She says laughing and seems to be quite excited by the thought! "But that's unlikely, he wouldn't risk an inferior hotel web connection that might be hacked. He'll collect his video cards when he gets back on Monday."

How does she know all this technical stuff? She's right about the smoke alarms, the sculpture and even the flower vase. We've gathered four full HD video camera memory cards.

"That seems to be all..." she says, beckoning. "Come over here and sit beside me. You've been a very foolish boy you know? You've been set-up to be a posthumous blackmailer!"

Her hand is behind my head and her lips are pressed to mine. 

It has been the most terrifying hour of my life. I've been to purgatory and now I'm saved! No stiletto. No jailhouse buggery. Just Diana's forgiving kiss.

"So, if I understood you correctly, your plan was to stay the night? Maybe we should put the cards back and complete your mission?" she suggests huskily.

On this occasion, Olympus truly was auspicious! 

Perhaps that Australian was an Angel from God? Maybe this is Devine intervention... ¡Gracias a dios.

 

Chapter 11

 

 

It's morning. The bright sun is streaming in through the glass wall to the balcony. I can see birds circling above the forest and the sound of the falls enters through the gap between the sliding doors. I look sideways at my new love. She's just lying there átono, her black silk robe spread out around her beautiful naked torso like a pond, as if she's floating on black water. She is so beautiful. I would like to see her reproducido as a sculpture, posed just like this, maybe in ivory and ebony. Her breasts are low white hills, each capped with a pink cairn marking is summit, overlooking the convex down of her tummy.   

Twice during the night I've fallen asleep, thinking we were finished, only to feel her hands or mouth me excita again.  

I'm almost deaf on one side! In her passion she's been screaming her excitement into my ear. 

I wonder how much other people in the hotel can hear? They must certainly be aware that she enjoyed herself. Could they tell how she was using me, to orgasmo like that while she demanded, like those other Olympians: "Faster! Higher! Stronger!"?

I suppose a good hotel like this has special sound deadening? Or have the other guests and staff become oblivious to periodic screams of passion, and cries of obscenity? Such screams from this suite began soon after we arrived yesterday afternoon; and I've lost count of them since.

"One last time before I call for breakfast," she suggests and we go for it again.

"You're increíble...  insaciable," I groan as I fall onto my back.  

But Diana's frowning deeply, as if there's something the matter.  There were no yells of passion. Less of a bang than a whimper this time.

"Wasn't I good enough for you?" I ask, expecting her to contradict me.

But she just shrugs. Obviously, it wasn't high or fast or strong enough. I've failed in my quest to mount Olympus.

"Well, that was the best I could do so soon. And with almost no sleep!" I grumble angrily, climbing off the bed.

I head for the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower... " I shout back over my shoulder, pausing at the bathroom door to look back at the scene of our debauchery, our Sodom and Gomorrah. And like Lot's wife, I find myself transfixed.

Standing on the bed and smiling at me invitingly Diana is lifting her arms, spreading her gown.

She drifts across the room, as if now in flight, still holding my gaze.

On her way she collected her lipstick from the consol and twists it to propel its phallic scarlet cartucho. Her sensuous mouth is parted as she touches the tip to her lips. I continue to watch from the doorway as, reflected in the big wall mirror, she applies the colour, contorting su boca, seductively, still holding me with her eyes as one hand slides down, opening her gown, her fingers now exploring her womanhood.  

The mesmerising effect of this performance is intensifica by the bright scarlet of her lips.

My earlier annoyance has drained away. I'm captivated by her yet again. She's fallen back onto the sofa, gown spread wide, smiling slightly, both hands now caressing, her eyes holding my rapt attention, the tip of her pale tongue emerging slowly between, freshly scarlet, lips.

Very slowly her legs are separating towards me, her hands still working their magic on me. A rush of desire suffuses my body. I need to have her again.

"No!" she stops me before I can advance. "I want you to perform for me over there."  

"Put your hands down like this. Show me how much you like me."

She's still touching herself with one hand. The other has risen to her mouth. She's sucking her fingertips to my rhythm. Her eyes are twinkling.

"Use both hands," she insists, as her fingers move faster. I respond.

Suddenly I succumb to her erotismo. I haven't got much left. But my whole body shakes violently with the 'little death' and I fall back against the door frame.

She emits a bray of victory:  "Ha! Ha! You're so easy! That took exactly one minute and 59 seconds." she says scornfully, breaking the spell. 

"What a wanker you are! Don't you feel ashamed of yourself, letting me make you do that. You should have seen yourself jerking off from over here. You're pathetic. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud."

I realise that the whole scene was a nasty practical joke.  She's mocking me, laughing at how easily she aroused me again, then made me do that for her! 

"Go and have your shower! And while you're in there see if you can do better than that pathetic excuse for an ejaculation, like a good little masturbador!... I can tell you've had plenty of experience in a shower. Would you like a washcloth? You're such a washout!" she adds, giggling at her silly joke.

As she laughed at me, I felt my anger rising again. Now I'm furious. Where does she get off, burlándose de mi hombría, mocking my manhood, like that!

I'm screaming obscenities at her. I'm beside myself with anger.

She's just laughs, delightedly. I feel like strangling her. But I find that I'm scared of her. She's so superior. Instead, I go into the bathroom and petulantly turn on the water.

 

Chapter 12

 

 

 

My shower took twenty, infuriating, minutes. I'm leaving the bathroom, still angry, a towel rapt around my manhood. 

Diana's standing on a chair replacing a smoke detector, I catch her smiling to herself, as she sees me. Was she singing? Her gown is tied around the waist in the practical, matter of fact, way.

"Now qué pasa? What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm putting things back so that Geraldo won't realise he's been discovered," she says, slightly breathlessly, skipping down off the chair.

"Now that you've finished playing with yourself, would you mind putting this one back in the clock while I get the last smoke detector?"

"I was not playing with myself, bitch!" I find myself shouting. She's really got to me.

The puta certainly travels with a lot of equipment. She has a cute little zip-up memory card holder.  She's taking out similar cards from the holder and replacing them with those from the cameras so they'll be blank when Geraldo gets here to harvest his crop. By now the hidden cameras in the room must have recorded a great deal of good quality video. The xD card from the stolen Olympus camera, my lifesaver, is already stowed away safely in her hold-all.

"Do you always carry a bunch of spare cards around with you?" I growl, still furious at her continued lleno de desprecio, sneering. But I do I'm asked asked, before replacing the back of the clock and putting it back in its place.

"Yes, I do, doesn't everyone with a camera?" she says, still sounding scornful, as if she silently added 'you moron' or 'you excuse for a man'. Now she seems to be demeaning my lack of resourcefulness or knowledge as well as my manhood.

"Well, no!" I reply incredulously, wondering why the clock needs a new card too.

"I was supposed to take that one with me. Why did I just replace it," I ask suspiciously. "If I'm going to follow the original plan, it's not supposed to be here when Geraldo returns."

"How stupid are you?" she responds rudely. "If you follow his plan, he's going to kill you. But when he finds all these, with nothing more incriminating than me roaming about, he'll think you failed completely. So, I've set their clocks back a day. Once he's taken the cards out, he'll never see the deception."

"What are you going to do with the recorded ones?" I ask, marvelling at her expertise and trying not to seem even more stupid.

"You'll see! They're going to be fun for us to watch together, later. That's why I put them back before your encore performance; and all those curtain-calls, last night," she says provocatively, showing me the tip of her tongue again and smiling suggestively. 

Maybe she doesn't think I'm such a dreadful lover after all, if she wants to look at our 'home movies' with me. Am I back in the good books? 

As if reading my mind, she's taken my hand and is leading me to the sofa. As I sit, to her command, my towel falls open and she pushes me back straddling my knees. I'm enveloped in her robe. Her naked breasts are pressed against me. She must have flicked the TV remote. She's moved her head to my shoulder, nibbling my ear, ensuring that I have a clear view of the screen.  

"Oh. No!"

She must have set up this dreadful, debasing scene when I was in the shower. 

"Look how hard you are," she whispers, breathing hotly in my ear. On screen she's kneeling over me as I pleasure her, yet again, in that disgusting way.

As she gives me her breathy commentary, reliving the experience in forensic detail, she wiggles about on my lap, as if enjoying it all over again. She hasn't showered and the odours of our night together rise inside the tent of her gown.

I watch appalled, yet I'm finding the smell of her incredibly arousing. The alarming scenes, of her dominating me and having her way like that, have somehow become hugely erotic. My shaft has grown hard and is upright against her writhing stomach. It's so mesmerising I'm actually trying to look around her when her soft lips seek mine and I feel her tongue pushing into my mouth. 

I can no longer stand it. I roll my knees to the side, tipping her onto the sofa to satisfy my lust.  

But she's gone! Somehow, she used my knees' sideway momentum to slip away and let me slide backwards off the sofa, dropping heavily to the floor. Now she's circling the room, wafting her open gown at me and laughing at my clumsiness. 

"Naughty boy! You told me you didn't like pleasing women like that! Well, this video has certainly proved you a liar. Look how turned on you got. You can't wait to do it for a woman again," she says delightedly. Her tongue going up and down, licking the air, in parody. "Like all wankers you love it!"

The puta is mocking me again.

Why do I let her do this? I'm as furious with myself as with her. All I want to do is punch her hard in her supercilious face.

She's bending over me whispering in my ear: "I'm sorry darling, it's just a game. Don't get too upset. I really do enjoy your new skills. I want to apologise," she sounds as if she is sorry. Maybe she sees how dangerous I might become? 

Her breasts are dangling against me and her breath is warm and sexy: "Lets go back to when you were going to fuck me. Look at the video again... See how excited you got... She's sucking my earlobe and her hand is checking me out.

"Look at how keen you are now you little pervert! Sorry. I told you I was just playing with you. Weren't you listening? Get up. I'm not in the mood at the moment."

"What! That's it!" I scream: "I'm going to have you whether you like it or not, you prick-teasing slut. Come here!"

She's skipped off, mock-yelling 'rape', 'rape' in alarm. That's it, I'm going to chase her down and rape her. She's asked for this. 

 

 

Chapter 13

 

 

 

Diana has slipped her robe as I made a grab for her, like a lizard leaving its tail. Naked, she's very agile, playing catching's, dodging from me every time I get close. I've sustained several painful bruises crashing into furniture and from when I crashed down, when the big rug slid from under me on the glossy floor. 

Now she's standing, bouncing gently on the bed and I'm circling. She's snatched up my pants on the way. "I wonder what's in here?" she's asking in her little girl voice.

She's got my wallet!  

"No! Don't do that. That's private!" I yell; and jump onto the bed to grab my pants back...

She jumps from the bed and skips off to the bare, open, floor area. The rug is bundled over to one side by my earlier skids. Now I can get some traction. I've got her.

Madre de dios! I'm on the floor!  How did she to do that? 

That lightning-fast battement, ballet kick, to the groin!  But that wasn't ballet, that was some kind of martial art.  

No wonder she likes to be called Kikka! She felled me with a single kick.

I'm in crippling pain; curled up in the foetal position; on the cold hardwood floor. I'm stark naked and vulnerable.

Diana is circling, taking her time, making a sort of purring noise like a tiger. She pushes me onto my back, piernas en jarras, legs apart, using her bare foot to drive my knees across, then down, forcing my legs out straight. I realise that she's not just faster and taller than me, she's probably stronger. She lifts a foot, threatening to kick me again. I don't dare oppose her. I comply. As a reward her big toe has begun stroking my genitales.

She's moved to stand right over my head smiling down seductively. "Would you like me to crouch down?... Show me your tongue."

I keep my mouth firmly closed. I'm not falling for that again.

"Naughty boy! I think you should always do as I tell you."

"Ahhh!" I yell. And I distinctly heard a high-pitched squeal of delight as she connected.

I'm whining in pain. I thrust my hands between my legs and bring my knees up to get some relief; and to protect myself from another kick.

"Oh, did I hurt you? I'm sorry!" To make her point she's lightly touching my penis with her toe again. It immediately responds to her will.

I've become conditioned to respond to her, like one of Pavlov's dogs. It's demeaning. I can no longer control my own body.

Now, smiling coquettishly, she puts on her gown and draws it tightly around her waist, as if to recover her modesty... as if she's suddenly shy, keeping her body a secret from my gaze. She's become serious.

"You know I'm seriously pissed off with you, for what you tried to do to me with Geraldo," she explains. "And I mustn't let you get away with something like that unpunished. It wouldn't be right... You need to be taught a painful lesson!"

She's circling again, smiling viciously como un asesino, like an assassin, and her voice is icy: "So after I've finished punishing you I'm going to call the police and give them the camera you stole.  I'll give them that camera-clock too, as evidence of your attempted blackmail."

A chill suffuses my body. This is a new turn of events. I thought this was just about kinky sex. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Since meeting her yesterday afternoon things have gone from dominance to pleasure; to fear; to relief; to pleasure; to pain; to despair. It's been less than a day, yet there seems to be no immediate escape from this emotional and physical roller-coaster! 

***

To avoid the threatened punishment, I'm swivelling around on my upper back, keeping my knees tightly clamped, as she circles. The glass-like wooden floor is beginning to get slippery with my sweat and mounting terror.

"You very obligingly put your prints all over that clock again, when you were so pathetically distracted by concern for your manhood. It's a pity the card was corrupted or you might have got some hot blackmail material. You're just too easy to play. No challenge," she says happily, as she begins to pavonearse around me in the opposite direction.

She's crooning again: "You might be lucky and get a sympathetic judge... I would guess, say half a dozen years, as the prison toy-boy! You're so very sexy; and just so easy to subdue." 

To demonstrate, she's flying above me. I turn my head to follow her prance and discover her on the other side. She has her right foot drawn back like a footballer lining up a goal, with my head, now face first, as the ball. I'm frozen in fear, like a rabbit in the headlights as her foot draws back further for the kick. She's about to break my nose; my teeth; put out my eyes.

"Don't! Por favor, no lo hagas!" I beg. I'm still in dreadful pain from her last kick. I'm crying, pleading with her. I'm terrified!  She steps back, with a short derisory laugh. 

Her voice has become husky, lustful: "No, not the face. I don't want to spoil your beauty. The thought of what they will do to you in prison turns me on!...  Yes... that's an exquisite idea!", she purrs. "It could be very exciting for me to imagine what your new friends will be getting up to, using your sexy body in that way... every night, as I make love to Geraldo; or someone else." 

I panic. I have to get out of here. I'm trying to get to my knees. The heel of her foot rams into my ribcage, like a blow from a baseball bat. She's knocked the wind out of me. Could she have cracked my ribs?

"No one said you could get up!" 

I reach out wildly, trying to catch an ankle. But she's prepared for any attempt I might make to grab at her and prances away with a laugh. I'm left writhing helplessly on the floor.

She's back above my head bending at the waist; leaning over so I can see her commanding face above me: "Lie still, you little shit!"  

I give up and lie still as she wants. She's going on with her soliloquy: "Maybe I should get a bigger dildo for Geraldo? It's his usual punishment... It sort-of rhymes. Oh yes, what a nice idea. Both of you painfully buggered at the same time. I enjoy that in a man!"

"No! I've a better idea! I'm going to leave the memory card from that clock at the airport for Geraldo, as you were supposed to, and let him go ahead with his plan to disembowel you with his long sharp knife. No jail buggery for you I'm afraid. It's a pity. His knife will hurt you briefly but the death is so quick!"

I have no reserves of pride left. I begin to plead: "Please don't. Please just let me go. I won't tell anybody anything and you'll never see me again. Please Diana!"

 

Chapter 14

 

 

"Ahhh!" I open my eyes.  Madre de dios! I must have passed out that time. Diana is bending over me as before, waiting for me to regain my wits.  

"What's the matter?" she asks. "That was just a little kick...  Was it as bad as being stabbed in the guts by Geraldo?  No of course not! Here you are again with your Kikka. Still alive and ready to continue your punishment!"

"As I was saying, before you interrupted me with all that sobbing and pleading: Killing you is best for me, because after he's disembowelled you, I'll tell Geraldo that I know exactly what he did... how he used his stiletto on you, just as he taught me to use mine, should I ever need to defend myself."   

She's bending over me and in her hand is a long thin sharp knife, a stiletto. Its tip is pressing into my abdomen, demonstrating where Geraldo's knife will enter. I don't dare move. The slightest movement might complete the demonstration.

"A firm upward thrust through your diaphragm, into your heart. Then a quick slice down to your cock so the guts fall out." I can feel the point drawing a line downwards to my member. She gives it a little whack with the blade.

Her voice is echoing with mounting excitement as she again draws the sharp point down my stomach and imagines my brutal death and its consequences: "That way I will have him under my thumb, with the card from that stolen camera, that you so kindly and unexpectedly provided, proving that he set you up and then murdered you." 

She suddenly changes her voice and sounds regretful, a child who has had to leave a fluffy kitten in a pet shop: "Oh! But that would be a terrible waste. To sacrifice such a good, appetising hunk like you," emphasising the 'hunk'.

She's walking around me admiring me like a specimen, throwing the knife from hand to hand, pushing me flat onto my back again; straightening me out on the, now slimy, wooden floor.

With the top of her foot, she nudges my aching genitales. It's as if she's tyre kicking and I'm a car she's thinking of buying.

"It's a pity this isn't a bit bigger. You're a classic male. I've always thought that about classic males, like Michelangelo's David. Piccolo. Maybe classical artists didn't want to make their creations too competitive in that respect? Was it to flatter their patrons; to avoid unfavourable comparisons by their women; or was it an ego thing?"

She's demeaning my manhood again but I have to humour her. I have no answer. She looks like she might use the knife to hurt me. Cut me; punish me for my size. I can't help what I was born with. I begin to cry but it's not in pain. I'm terrified. She reminds me of the beautiful but evil queen in Snow White, before the potion that transforms her, as she stands over me, legs apart, black gown flowing open, displaying her evil beauty and smiling down at me.

Her voice is excited, husky again: "You are a real hunk you know, a beautiful body, with such potential!" 

Suddenly her arm extends over her shoulder and falls. Her knife has flashed towards my genitales. I'm so numb I'm not sure what happened. I raise my head in horror to see her stiletto, still vibrating, sticking into the floor a centimetre from my testicles.  Knife throwing must be another of her skills.

"If I do decide to save you from Geraldo's sharp knife, they're going to love you in prison! Size won't matter there. The tighter you are the better. Now be quiet and lie still. No one likes to see a man crying."

Then I realise, she must already have those cameras recording all this!

In confirmation, she's posing for the bronze dancer. Her gown is twirled like a rope, caught around behind her back. Could this be a kind of signature, concluding the performance? If so, who's this 'artistic' performance for? An on-line audience?

This footage, collected from every angle, would be a fetishists delight!

 

Chapter 15

 

 

 

I must have blacked out again! What happened? 

I remember!  I'd accepted my fate and almost gone to sleep when, without any warning, she kicked me, unbelievably hard, in my fully exposed genitales.

Everything had gone grey with black spots but slowly my vision is clearing. Diana, Kikka, is in her black silk robe, sitting casually on the sofa and smiling down at me. She seems to be delighted with herself: "Oh there you are! You've been gone for such a long time", she complains, with her lower lip pushed out, pretending petulance.

I've been sobbing, on my side curled-up in the foetal position. "Oh! Don't cry for me Argentina!" she croons. "I've been waiting and waiting for you to come back. I'm afraid you've missed breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea. So, while you were gone, I've prepared something special for you to watch."

With a press of the remote her video production comes up on the TV.

Diana is dressed and made-up presidentially, waring serious glasses with her hair tightly pulled back into a bun, looking anything but a femme fatale. She's sitting at the desk, looking into the camera; sorting papers in front of her; playing the political candidate.

"I've been the victim of attempted blackmail; gross indecency; and sexual abuse," she tells her audience. 

"The perpetrator is this man who has escaped, leaving behind this camera, that I have reason to believe is stolen." 

My face fills the screen then she holds up a plastic bag containing the Olympus. 

"He left this clock, that is actually a camera pointed into my bedroom... [pause] where I get undressed." 

It's sitting on the console, with the bed in the background. The back is open, showing the camera inside. 

"I've been careful how I've touched it, as I expect that it's covered in the pervert's fingerprints."

Now she's holding up my wallet, so that her audience can see what's she's doing.  She's going through it with her finger tips.  I get the message. I couldn't stop her doing anything she wanted to do! She's showing the fake driver's licence that Geraldo gave me, for the hire car, and that stolen credit card, that I used for the hotel security deposit.

"In this wallet, that he left behind as he fled, there are two different ID's so it's likely that this is stolen too," she tells the camera as she shows the card.  

"But these are the least of his crimes. In this plastic bag there is a small sample of his ejaculate from when he did this..." 

Here she's inserted footage of me standing naked by the bathroom door masturbating.

"Police will be able to extract his DNA. I don't need to tell you how appalled I was by this man. Yet he seemed to believe, like many such exhibitionist perverts, that I would be seduced by his actions, can you imagine?"

"When I rejected his crude advances, he tried to rape me... "

Here she had inserted footage showed me screaming: "I'm going to have you whether you like it or not, you prick-teasing slut. Come here!" then running towards the camera as she cries 'rape'.

Crashes can then be heard in the background, mixed with my obscenities and me yelling: "I'm going to kill, you bitch!"

"Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to use the camera in my phone to capture these images and the skills and fitness to fight him off, before he took fright and fled.

"It's enabled me to make this YouTube video for all the women of the world, as a warning against inviting a stranger back to your hotel for a drink, particularly if he's a good-looking young man who offers to help in a political office. This one seemed gallant and perhaps effeminate - pleasant company - until I found myself alone with him in private. A wolf in sheep's clothing."

"The police have a duty to catch camera thieves but this one is also the worst kind of sexual predator. And you heard him threaten my life. No woman is safe while he's still on the loose. That's why I'm offering a hundred thousand US dollars reward for his capture"

The screen's gone blank.

I'm in shock.

"Oh dear," she says, breaking my silence. "It does look bad for you, doesn't it?  Did I say six years jail. Now I'm thinking twenty, if you're very good." 

"I imagine, with that very explicit masturbation scene, it will go viral. It will also make great TV on the news channels. With your genitales pixelated out of course. It won't matter where in the world you are. Can I call you Carmeno Sandiego? You'll be recognised immediately. Did I mention my hundred thousand reward, for your capture?"

She's right! If she releases this, my days of freedom will be limited. But I might be safer in jail than out with Geraldo stalking me.

My only chance is to stop her doing any of this. Maybe I should try to kill her? 

"You're thinking about killing me aren't you," she says, reading my mind again. 

"Have you heard of 'failsafe'? It's a system or plan that comes into operation in the event of something going wrong or something that will happen by default, in the event that another action is not taken. In this case failsafe means that this video is already set up to be published automatically from my political website in just under forty-eight hours. And while you were sleeping, I took a memory card to the airport and used your locker key to leave it for Geraldo. Needless to say, the key isn't here anymore. So now I'm the only one who can stop these things happening." 

Shit! I have to admire how smart she is. "Why are you doing this?" I ask her, despairingly.

"To make you mine," she replies. "I've decided to make you my undercover agent. Diego, I suppose that’s James? As in James Bond, 007. Yes?"

I nod.

"I always find that my close associates work much better for me when their life is in my hands."

"So, if I agree to work for you, you'll retrieve the card from the airport and stop the release of this video?" I check.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to harm my agente encubierto," she confirms. "You'll be my undercover agent so I'll call you 003, code name: Carmeno Sandiego, from now on. But it's not really working for me is it, when you have elected to do it for me voluntarily. You have choices."

She's talking about enslavement but I'm actually relieved. For the first time I look around. I'm amazed to see that the suite is back to normal, as if this morning never happened.

"So, will you accept this assignment 003? If you don't want to be my agente encubierto, you're free leave now and good luck. I'll simply let the 'failsafe' events take their course."

"But if you agree not to go free, there will be other rewards. I want to make up for your earlier pain and suffering and to show you what an understanding and caring mistress I can be."  

She's offering me her hand and smiling. I rise painfully to my feet. It's 'her' or 'the door' and back in that robe and obviously naked beneath it, 'her' beats 'the door' anytime.

 

 

Chapter 16

 

 

Diana has opened her robe on one side, like a wing offering me her comfort. As I walk painfully over to her, she brings her arm in, enfolding me, and my frigid nakedness.  Her arm is drawing me closer to her warm body. I realise how cold I am. I'm shivering. I've been petrificado! As I get warmer the musky smell rising from my body under her robe is almost overpowering. I realise, shamefully, that I'm filthy. And I stink.

It doesn't seem to worry her and she keeps comforting me. After a while she takes my hand and leads me to the shower, where we both get under the warm water and she soaps me down, like a mother showering a toddler, paying special attention to my dirty genitales. When she's finished, she towels me down and leads me back to the bed and gets in beside me, spreading the quilt over us both.

Her smooth warm body feels maravilloso.  She's stroking the back of my head with her free hand, her other arm still pulling me to her, firmly. A little kiss on the cheek. More stroking. This, suddenly maternal, Diana is calming me, easing my pain. She's soothing me. I start to sob with relief. "There there!" she keeps repeating, like my dear lost mother. I desperately soak up her love.

After a little while she asks: "Do you like my body holding you?" I nod. "I like yours too but you've been so reluctant to use it to please me in the ways I like. You've been very naughty." She's using a gentle, wheedling voice, as a mother might use to comfort a child who she's reluctantly disciplined: 'Mommy had to smack you because you were naughty, but Mommy still loves you and you still love Mommy'.

She's being so sweet.  

"Tell me how much you want to please me now that you're mine," she coaxes.

I need to reassure her, make mommy happy. But she's not my mommy. What does she want to hear?

"You're amazing..." My voice is childlike: "You've given me the best sex of my life. And I'm sorry that I was reluctant to do everything you wanted. I thought, I think, you are la mujer más deseable, most desirable woman, I've ever met!"

"Good boy!" she cries enthusiastically, hugging me, rewarding her little boy for a good answer. 

She holds my head between her hands and kisses me voluptuously on the mouth and we keep kissing passionately, her tongue darting.

It's not a mother's kiss. I'm feeling forgiven. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone. 

"So, you'll be my 003 from now on?" I smile and nod 'sí', pleased at the nickname. 

"Oh, but you can't agree until I tell you your duties. Would you like to hear your duties 003?"

I nod again. 

"Obviously sex is number one." I'm smiling broadly. "In future you must stop what you're doing and come to me whenever I call you... from now your first duty will be my pleasure, however I desire to use you... and you won't object to anything?"

'However she desires' is a bit worrying, she's obviously a sadist, but I nod and agree: "Si".

***

I'm still in her bed. She's lying peacefully asleep beside me, as if I've already agreed and she owns me entirely. But I haven't decided to stay. I've been wide awake for over an hour, considering the option of leaving. It all seems like a bad dream. I carefully raise myself on my elbows. It's real enough. Her hand is cupping me but it feels intimate and soothing and she's lying against me with her warm body, so protectively. 

This maternal Diana is amazingly sensual, comforting, reassuring. But she's was really turned on by hurting me, like that, and humiliating me. Is that what Agent 003 is to be - her masochistic gimp. At least she's not going post that video, or let Geraldo murder me, while she's using me for sex. She's so beautiful when she's asleep. My heart rate is back to normal.  I'm relaxing.

How bad can esclava sexual be? The most worrying thing is her sadistic streak and the requirement to pleasure her in any way she demands! How kinky might that get? Might it involve others? It can't be any worse than three-way sex, involving another man for her amusement. But I've been a 'gun for hire' in the past, so what's new? 

OK, I've decided to accept my sexual enslavement. I wonder what 'the next most important' duty is?

I start to nibble her ear: "This is 003, at your command... What's to be my most important duty? Diana Darling!" I murmur.

 

 

Chapter 17

 

 

"Ahhh!", the pain! I'm near to passing out...

"Wrong and wrong! Don't call me Diana or darling!", she shouts angrily, rising above me.

"Call me 'Kikka' - it means mistress of all! And you know what else it means!... Kicker... Would you like another session on the floor?"

"Alright, alright... Kikka!"

The agonising pain is subsiding, as she relaxes her grip on my tender balls.

"Good! 

She rolls out of bed and begins stalking around the suite. Naked, she's lithe as a puma... y desenfrenada, rampant!

Coming back, she pulls the quilt off the bed and flicks her fingers at me, with an imperious gesture, indicating that I should lie on the floor. I instantly comply.

"Bend you knees and grab your ankles.... Now pull them back hard and arch your back. Harder! I want your heels under your bum. Harder I said." 

My thighs are screaming now. My pelvis is thrust up. Amazingly, I'm rock hard.

She nonchalantly steps over me and takes me into her.

I feel her weight in my straining thighs as her crouch becomes a kneel - a leg outside each of my stretching arms. She's leaning forward, her arms straight, her closed fists embedded in the carpet on either side of my head, looking straight down into my face.

"Now, fuck me hard - like you wanted to this morning!" she demands. I find that I can't do anything, I'm helpless under her weight. She's immobilised me at the same time that she's using me as sex toy for her pleasure, moving to and fro.

"Duty number one: From now on, the sex is on my terms."

"Duty number two is simple 003, you must use your licence to kill..." 

"Who?"

"Geraldo of course!" sneering his name. "I want him dead."

Searing pain shoots through my thigh muscles as she comes down hard on me.

"Pay attention!"

She begins talking didactically, like a lawyer coaching a guilty client:

"Geraldo will be back tomorrow morning. Before he leaves, I'll ring him and tell him I met an old friend of his today. This friend was acting mysteriously and asked me to mention some more camera cards - plural!  He'll guess that you are the old friend and have found the other cameras. That'll ensure that he accepts your invitation for a secret meeting in the park. You will have left him a map marked with a meeting place in his airport locker. He will come early and prepare to kill you. It will be him or you. So, like a good Boy Scout - be prepared! Take the steak knife from last night's dinner. Attack him without warning. Throw the body over the nearby cliff.  Remember to bring the steak knife back."  

She wasn't joking! She has it all planned! I try to struggle free: "Oh, good boy - that's nice!  Do that again. Now let's go through the plan again." 

Geraldo will be back tomorrow morning..."

I'm aching all over and can hardly think. But I realise through the fog that I'm soon to become a killer; or to be killed myself. I have a sinking feeling that it's inevitable, inescapable - like her using me like this.

Will you accept this mission 003?  Will you take that meeting?

I nod my head.

"Say it."

"Yes, I'll take that meeting for you mistress Kikka."

"Good!" She says, satisfied, standing up. "Follow me."  

I find that it hurts to walk. I stagger to the coffee table. I can't believe everything's back in place, as if this morning never happened. But there's a big envelope on the table.  

"In that envelope is a map of the park, sent up by the concierge. And this is a sealed packet of small red sticky dots. Take the map out and write across it: 'meet me here this morning' with this pen I found in your jacket."  

I do as I'm told.

"Good boy! Now open the dots and stick one on the map here."  She's pointing to a position along the cliff path, about a kilometre further on from where she and I first kissed, only yesterday. "Study this map carefully then fold it and put it back in the envelope, your life depends on it."

I do as I'm told, again. I realise that she hasn't touched a thing herself.

"And now Agent 003, it's time to go back to the bed and revise duty number one." 

My Mistress Kikka has me on my back and begins to ride me again: from a walk to a trot; and then to a canter. As she looks down her frown softens to a look of satisfaction and her moans become louder cries of delight; or perhaps conquest? As she reaches a full gallop it's as if it's she who's being murdered.

***

As I'm used, my mind is racing. Something is odd: Kikka means mistress! But she used that name when we first met! Could she have planned this from the beginning? But if I had not stolen that camera, she would not have evidence connecting Geraldo and me.  Did she already know that he had hired me? Is that how she knew about James Bond? Was the camera just a bonus? Would she have 'discovered' the clock if I'd said nothing?  If I go to this meeting for her, I'll either be dead or at her mercy forever. A steak knife - untraceable after its returned to the hotel's cutlery and washed. That's why she ordered us steak in the room last night! She's even demonstrated how to use it. Is this how she got Geraldo? Is Geraldo 002? Maybe Geraldo's under orders, and following her plan? He couldn't have thought all this up himself. Maybe I'm his replacement, until she tires of me? Or maybe this just her idea of a sexy, fun weekend? Is this all part of her performance art? Have there been others before or during her time with Geraldo? She seems to be expert at this. Will he laugh at me and call 'April Fool' when I go to meet him? Too many possibilities! 

After that last orgasm, she climbed off me and fell back happily, apparently satisfied that she's made me hers. I find that I'm proud that, despite being completely worn out, I was able to help my Kikka orgasmo, as my first duty requires.

She's lying beside me again, limp but smiling enigmatically. I realise I don't care what her motivations are. I just want to be her 003, for as long as she'll own me and look after me. 

My Kikka's so nice! She's gently stroking me now. She owns me. I just want to serve her now and forever. And to satisfy all her cravings.

"Yes, mistress Kikka... I'll do whatever you want..." I find myself saying, with total sincerity.  

She's ecstatic. We're both exhausted.

 

Chapter 18

 

 

When did I fall asleep?  Have I been dreaming?  Diana's coming out of the bathroom already showered.  

"It's time for breakfast." 

Thank goodness. I'm starving! It's still our first morning and I just had a terrible dream.

Yet, I do seem to be covered in bruises; my balls throb; my thighs ache; and my nipples are very sore.

As Diana is already dressed, she says: "I've ordered you a full breakfast, you've got a busy day ahead of you 003... Go into the bathroom and hide when it arrives.  And if you're good, when you return - I'll let you use that in a new way that we'll both enjoy," alluding to my sudden involuntary erection after she called me 003. 

"I'm leaving now. I need to make a trip to the airport to leave your map for Geraldo."  She's dressed as I've never seen or imagined her, in stockings high heels and a yellow suit, complete with hat, gloves and handbag. I experience a surge of lust for this new, sophisticated, woman.

"I need you to wait for half an hour after I leave. Then go down the stairs to the lower lobby and leave by the back entrance. You can make your way to the falls down through the gardens. I've put out some of Geraldo's running clothes that should fit you. You'll look like a guest going for a morning run. Wrap the knife from last night in a napkin and put it in your pocket. When you return, come back the same way and use the house phone for me to let you up."

She gives me a smile and an air-kiss, from scarlet lips, as she closes the door.

It all comes back. It was no dream. She's Kikka and I'm 003 and if I don't kill Geraldo for her this morning, there's a video that will be automatically published. In that case I'm certain to be caught and jailed as a blackmailer; rapist; thief; and sexual deviant. My only hope is to stop that website and destroy all the evidence. I've no idea how to stop a website and if I could maybe she can publish anyway.  But if I can destroy the evidence, I might escape jail. Then I need to grab my stuff and run. 

Where is the evidence? Where's my stuff?  

All I can find is some old running clothes, shoes and socks. They don't even have any labels. Everything else is gone. Camera; wallet; camera cards; and my clothes and jacket. All gone! All except a sharp steak knife and a napkin to wrap it in. She's thought of everything: no bloody knife staining my pants when I return. Well, I'm not taking that. In the bright light of day, I'm no secret agent. When it comes to the actual reality of killing someone, I'm a coward.

But searching everywhere for the evidence has paid off. I've found my rental-car key. It was under that big chair. It must have fallen from my jacket pocket, out of sight when Diana took the locker key. So, I'll leave the cliff path early and head for the car. The fork to the car park is well before I reach the meeting place that I marked on that map. I remember it well: the one with my handwriting and my prints all over it, that Diana never touched.

My travel bag and the rest of Geraldo's money is in the car. So, I'm going to use it to get out of here. I'll drive across into Brazil then go east. I'll ditch the car in a favela and hide out in Rio until the heat is off. 

***

As I run out of the garden entrance, I realise it's Monday and hardly anyone's around. Sunday was lost, spent indoors. I've seen one or two hotel guests but they were not surprised to see a fellow guest coming from the stairs and going for a morning run. I'm away clear. The turn off to the car park is just after the spot where I first kissed Kikka, less than two days ago. It seems like a lifetime.

I'm rounding the corner to our lookout. There's a familiar figure sitting on the rail. Geraldo's obviously expecting me, he's playing with his stiletto, stabbing holes in that post like an idiot. His brief preoccupation is my only chance to catch him by surprise. I accelerate to a dash. I'll throw him over the rail. He's seen me. His knife is ready and waiting. 

Somehow, we've both gone over the rail in a wrestler's struggle. Geraldo's knife is buried in my side, below my ribs. It's probably serious but doesn't hurt much. I pull it out and plunge it down into his neck. That's done some damage. Like the brothers in arms, we once were, we continue to embrace, as we tumble, peacefully, over the edge, into the morning mist.

They say that as you die your whole life passes before you. Just so, this misty place has now recorded all my thoughts, from when I got here with Diana until my present embrace with Geraldo. Like a message in sand, my memories float here, in the mist, for my future biographer's reinterpretation, as he comes to marvel at the falls and breathes them in. 

My last thought is of my Mistress Kikka. She'll be disappointed in me. The car-key was a test for her Agent 003 - one that I've failed. But her plan, like all of her plans, was failsafe. Sticky red dots are so easily moved - even if Diana had to do it herself.

 

Chapter 19

 

Diana's Scrapbook:

 

- news update - Tuesday   The body of the man was found floating in the Iguazú river by a tourist boat yesterday has been identified as the TV star Geraldo from the hit TV show Stars do the Tango. His desolate wife, political candidate Diana DeMain, said that she had been expecting him to return today from Buenos Aries where he was judging the semi-finals. But he didn't arrive when she went to the airport. She expected that he had been held up and missed his flight. Thousands of distraught women have already gathered outside Ms DeMain's home and at the hotel she is staying at in Iguazú in support of her tragedy. Flowers have begun to mount along the wall of their home and more form a virtual carpet in the Iguazú river where her husband Geraldo was found...  Iguazú Herald

 

 

 

Police announce foul play in Geraldo case Wednesday   It has been revealed that TV star Geraldo found floating in the Iguazú river on Monday was murdered.  Before leaving he was seen to withdraw a large sum of foreign currency from an airport cash machine and then to catch an earlier flight, saying that he was going to surprise his wife. His devastated widow, Ms DeMain, said that they had planned to visit the United States on their second honeymoon this week. "Geraldo was a romantic and must have wanted some spending money," she told the waiting media. A police spokesperson said that robbery was an obvious motive. She added that detectives are well advanced in their investigation and are expected to make an announcement very soon. The Herald has learned that they have had an early breakthrough. A second body, that of an unidentified male, was pulled from the river below the falls, close by, soon after that of Geraldo. It is speculated that the two deaths happened within minutes of each other, possibly as a result of a cliff-top struggle...  Iguazú Herald

 

 

 

DeMain Wins by a Landslide Monday (a month later)   Diana DeMain, the widow of the TV celebrity Geraldo, has won the election this weekend by a landslide. Recently described by her Socialist opponent as "a conniving society 'Rich Bitch', interested only in promoting the interests of her cronies at the 'Big end of Town'", pundits gave her little hope of winning, until the wave of support over the tragic murder of her husband swung public opinion in her favour.  It appears that her husband, Geraldo was returning to her early, to sweep her off to a second honeymoon in the United States, when he was waylaid by a, still unidentified, mugger. Detectives found evidence of a struggle and blood-stained money scattered on a cliff-top where they say all the evidence points to Geraldo gallantly attempting to fight off his knife wielding assailant before the struggling men plunged together, both already mortally wounded, into the falls.   In the days that followed the DeMain campaign likened brave Geraldo to Lancelot, a knight in shining armour, and herself to Guinevere in Camelot. His thousands of fans have already over-subscribed on-line to a memorial lookout to be built near his struggle above the falls. A tango version of the song 'Camelot' has gone viral worldwide.  Ms DeMain alluded to this wave of community support in her victory address. Dressed in a couture, form fitting black dress, black hat and veil, she told supporters: "Geraldo was a man of the people. He rose from humble beginnings in the Barrio and will always be a beacon to those who, through hard work and perseverance, rather than hanging on the apron-strings of the State, can follow in his footsteps".  She was visibly distressed as she told her party faithful that: "Yet his memory will always here to remind me that I represent not just the many who chose to vote for me but also those, mostly from humble beginnings like my noble husband, who did not". Overcome that her husband had been robbed of his life, before having a chance to cast his vote, she was unable to continue and was helped from the podium, amidst thunderous applause...   Iguazú Herald

 

 

 

Diana DeMain Remarries Monday (a year later)   Vice President, Diana DeMain, has surprised everybody by marring aging billionaire playboy, Phillip DeGreco, in an exclusive ceremony on his private island in the Bahamas. The wedding was witnessed by a handful of close friends, including the President and his wife.  Fans of her deceased husband, the TV celebrity Geraldo, were shocked. Some have defaced political posters, claiming that DeMain has sullied Geraldo's memory by jumping into this new marriage so soon.  One disillusioned fan told this reporter that: "...people don't get married unless they have known someone for some time. Diana's obviously been carrying on with this pig, who's old enough to be her father, for months, if not years... So much for grieving for her Lancelot... and all that Camelot mierda!" Others were less judgmental. Her friend told me that: "Arte (as she's known to her oldest friends) had to put up with a lot of mierda herself in that marriage. Lance-a-lot was a good name for him!" She was alluding to the recent tell-all interview with Mirabel, his fellow judge on Stars do the Tango, in which she revealed that Geraldo spent the night before his death in her bed. Mirabel claimed that Geraldo told her that it was 'OK' because Kicky (his pet-name for his wife) 'turned a blind eye' to what he was up to. It was her impression that he was actually doing his wife's bidding. In a follow-up story: 'Dancing the horizontal tango', it was revealed that several other women have come forward, claiming to be his mistress and that Geraldo had had many extra-marital affairs, before his highly publicised night with Mirabel.  Ms DeMain refused to comment on these accusations saying: "My marriage to Geraldo was perfectly happy but now I must move on with my life and my career." The aging Mr DeGreco was more forthcoming and effusive: "Of all the women I've ever known Diana is the most captivating and exciting to be with," he said, as he limped up the steps of the Palacio del Congreso to wait for her. He's said to be recovering from minor bruising, as a result of a fall from his horse, but smiled broadly for the cameras. The happy couple met at a polo match. Ms DeMain was accompanying her friend, the president's wife, to watch the President play. His schoolboy friend, DeGreco, was on the opposing team. "They hit it off immediately," said a friend....   Iguazú Herald

 

"A dangerous game polo... No competition for old men," Diana remarks, smiling her new houseboy, as she closes her scrap-book.