Amanda left the university at one fifteen on Friday afternoon, pleased with the knowledge that Professor Hutchinson would be following soon after. Strangely, she felt just a tinge of excitement; she was after all, entering new territory. The weather was not hot, but that did not deter her from driving with the top of her Mercedes convertible, one of daddy’s extravagant gifts, down all the way to the Lorne Hotel. She pulled into the car park, raised the ragtop of the Benz, and walked confidently into the lounge. After a brief visit to the ladies restroom, where she lightly brushed her hair, and vainly admired herself in the mirror, she found a corner table overlooking the ocean, and ordered a coffee. She was feeling extremely relaxed and confident. The only other people in the lounge were a middle-aged couple sitting in the corner next to the bar. They had obviously spent some time drinking, as their voices were so loud that she could hear them from where she sat. She could not follow their conversation, but she heard enough to know they had drunk more than their share. She hoped neither of them was going to attempt to drive a car. Her coffee arrived, and as the young waiter placed it in front of her, he could not keep his eyes from peering down the top of her low cut dress. Smiling to herself, she leaned further forward to reach for the sugar, so that he could see more of her protruding breasts. His temperature rose, and his eyes widened. ‘I am a teasing bitch, she thought to herself.’
* * *
“Ohhh….” He moaned when he could not hold himself any longer. He felt embarrassed. He could not remember the last time he had ejaculated into a girl’s hand, but it was a long time ago.
* * *
Amanda opened the front gate at seven, and he arrived twenty minutes later.
“Hello.” It was almost a whisper. “My god you’re so beautiful,” he reached out and took her hands in his, “I missed you so much.”
She was dressed in a white low cut, tight fitting top, and black skintight pants. Her golden hair cascaded loosely down over her shoulders. Just the sight of her stirred his libido.
* * *
He just stood there stunned and remained motionless for some time; not moving, not knowing how the situation turned so sour in just a split second, and over a stupid slip of his stupid tongue. He had no idea this was all part of her master plan. She had written him out of her life, he was disposable, finished; now she would throw him away! Inadvertently, he had done all the hard work for her. Conveniently, he had created the opening for the argument.
She heard the Range Rover’s powerful engine ignite. He reversed out onto the street and sped off with a screech of tires. She closed the gate, turned on some music and danced happily around the house. She had used the professor, and she would continue to use anyone, whenever and wherever necessary. It was all part of life’s game of getting ahead and becoming rich and powerful.
* * *
The butler opened the front door. “Please gentlemen, come in.” His aristocratic accent would have done justice to one of the Queen’s Footmen. He ushered them into an entrance hall that was bigger than their lounge and dining rooms combined. Through a wide archway, they could see a magnificent ballroom with mostly old people, dressed in an array of eveningwear. Some were talking, some dancing. To the two brothers it looked like a scene out of an old classic movie. Both felt they were way out of their league, but before they could become completely overwhelmed, Amanda glided over and stood beside the butler. Anthony marveled at how beautiful and radiant she looked. Her dress was a smoky blue gray color that hugged her body down to her waist where it flared out in pleats that gently flowed down around her ankles. The shoulders were ever so slightly padded and the neckline was low enough to show just enough cleavage to catch the eye. She looks bloody beautiful, thought both men simultaneously. Angelo breathed into his brother’s ear. “You lucky bastard.”
* * *
The meetings in London, Paris, and Milan went without a hitch, and Amanda was a sensation. She had the male buyers distracted by her beauty and the female ones astounded by the fact that someone so young and beautiful could hold such a responsible position. Stan concluded she was an asset, and deep down he was pleased she had replaced Jamieson, although he did miss Jamieson’s company at the social events.
* * *
With hand outstretched and a look of desire in her dark eyes, Tony had an invitation no man in his right mind could refuse. “Would you like to come into my room?” His conscience was about to remind him he was a married man, and being in a bedroom with such a desirable woman would be more tempting than the average man could stand. Fuck off conscience! He followed her into the room.
“You know Amanda, the big money, and I mean ‘real big’ money in the Asian textile business is not made from manufacturing your brand of products.” She started to say something, but stopped when John raised his hand. “Now Amanda, hear me out. You’ll have plenty of time for questions when I’ve finished.” He continued. “Nor, is big money made from manufacturing top brand names under license. Most of that is now well and truly under control of the companies that own those labels and they already have that end nicely tied up. You know, low wages, high profits, good dividends for the shareholders. Their CEOs get big fat million dollar contracts, not to mention the huge bonuses they get when they leave, or even if they are laid off. They pay multi- million dollar contracts to entertainers and sports stars to promote and wear their products and everyone is happy. Everyone except the local workers who produce the products; the people who sew and sweat over the fabric, these people are grossly underpaid for their labor.”
Gop laid the three stacks of notes on the desk in front of her. “Those twelve boxes I showed you that are headed for Australia contain the new range of European football shirts for the most popular clubs like Chelsea, Manchester United and Liverpool, and they will be on the market the same day the originals are released throughout Asia, Australia and New Zealand, but of course, at a fraction of the price. Even some of the sponsored outlets sell our copies, but they don’t process them as goods received, so they don’t include them in their sales figures. For them it is pure profit and what’s more, there’s no tax. As the order was prepaid in the usual way, $200,000 of this is your share of the profit.”
* * *