"Ludlum, Robert - Matarese Dynasty 01 - The Matarese Circle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ludlum Robert)

collect his passenger.

"Hello, Tony!" The woman swept across the dimly Ut hallway and kissed the
general's cheek. "How are you, darling?" she said, fingering her choker
as she leaned toward him.
"Tense," replied Blackburn, slipping his arms out of his civilian
overcoat, held by a uniformed maid. He looked at the girl; she was new
and lovely.
The woman saw his glance. "She's not ready for you, darling," she
commented, taking his arm. "Perhaps in a
 6 THE MATARESE CIRCLE
month or two. Come along now, we'll see what we can do about that tension.
We've got everything you need. The best hashish from Ankara, absinthe from
the finest still in Marseilles, and precisely what the doctor ordered from
our own special catalogue. Incidentally, how's your wife?"
"Tense," said the general quietly. "She sends you her best."
"Do give her my love, darling."
They walked through an archway into a large room with soft, multi-colored
lights that came from unseen sources; circles of blue and magenta and
amber revolving slowly across the ceiling and the walls. The woman spoke
again.
"There's a girl I want to have join you and your regular. Her background
is simply tailor-made, darling. I couldn't believe it when I interviewed
her; it's incredible. I just got her from Athens. You'll adore her."

Anthony Blackburn lay naked on the king-sized bed, tiny spotlights
shooting down from the mirrored ceiling of blue glass. Aromatic layers
of hashish smoke were suspended in the still air of the dark room; three
glasses of clear absinthe stood on the bedside table. The general's body
was covered with streaks and circles of waterpaint, fingermarks
everywhere, phallic arrows pointing to his groin, his testicles and erect
penis coated in red, his breasts black, matching the matted hair of his
chest, the nipples blue and joined by a straight fingerline of flesh-
white. He moaned and whipped his head back and forth in sexual oblivion
as his companions did their work.
The two naked women alternately massaged and spread thick globules of
paint on his writhing body. As one revolved her breasts about his
moaning, moving face, the other cupped his genitalia, groaning sensually
with each stroke, uttering false, muted screams of climax as the general
approached orgasm-halted by the professional who knew her business.
The auburn-haired girl by his face kept whispering breathless,
incomprehensible phrases in Greek. She removed herself briefly to reach
for a glass on the table; she held Blackburn's head and poured the thick
liquid onto his lips. She smiled at her companion, who winked back,
Blackburn's red-coated organ in her hand.
 THE MATARESE CIRCLE 7

Then the Greek girl slid off the bed, gesturing toward the bathroom door.
Her associate nodded, extending her left hand up toward the general's
head, inserting her fingers into his lips to cover for her companion's