Page 1 of Isle of Seduction
ONE
SEX SHOULDN’T BE A CHORE
Sex shouldn’t be a chore and yet, here I am.
The pretty blonde I’m fucking is moaning too loud, and it doesn’t help that her grey sheets are chaffing on my knees, either. I can’t be arsed to come, but I won’t be accused of being selfish. Snaking a hand to her mouth to dim her cries, I pound faster into her from behind and strum her clit with my other hand until she comes on my cock.
She’s still recovering from her orgasm when I put my black jeans on. I kiss the cheek of my nameless conquest, then leave the small studio without looking back.
I thought spending the early hours of the morning in the company of a beautiful woman would satiate my restlessness.
It didn’t.
And now I’m fucking late, because I didn’t want to fuck anyone in West Hill. The press that follows me around would have a field day, and I don’t want to give anyone the misconception that I’d be relationship material.
I could tell the Mayor of West Hill that “a wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to” but I doubt he’s a Lord of The Rings fan. He’s too pretentious to like something mainstream and probably wouldn’t understand the genius of Peter Jackson.
The picturesque street of the suburban small town I ended up in is quiet as I put on my helmet and swing my leg on my bike, driving off at high speed. Once I get out of the small town, the “Greenford” sign behind me, I take the country road, lined with majestic oak trees on both sides. The dewy September morning wind whips at my jean-clad legs and leather jacket. The adrenaline rush I get every time clears the budding irritation brewing in my brain.
When I arrive at the Town Hall, a massive historical building made of brown bricks, located at the heart of West Hill, I don’t wait until I’m invited in to barge into Mayor Lewis’s lavish office. The man startles like I just caught him with his pants down.
Thank God, that’s not the case. It’s too early to see the shrivelling dick of the bald man I need to keep in my entourage to secure my place in politics.
“Mr. Capaldi,” he stutters my name and I refrain from sneering. He recovers quickly and falls back into his usual demeanour, a mix of annoyance and contempt. Despite his lack of hair, Lewis is fit for his fifty years and has this air of je-ne-sais-quoi that invites trust. I’m not fooled by him. “You’re late. I didn’t think you were coming anymore.”
“I wouldn’t miss the opportunity for the world, Mr. Mayor. Traffic was abominable. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course. Please have a seat,” he grumbles.
Two years ago, Mr. Lewis was campaigning to become Mayor. He promised the inhabitants of our humble city that he’d be able to create a new motorway, diverting traffic and making it easier to navigate our town and its suburbs.
Unfortunately, his plans passed through Mr. Doug Hamilton’s property and the man was less than inclined to sell.
Fortunately for my dear friend Lewis, he contacted me, and I can get anything on anyone. I have a knack for cybersecurity, or rather, for breaching it, for finding the dirt no one wants found, and the hidden bodies buried in closets. Both figuratively and literally. My hackers around the world are the best at what they do. Some of it legal, some of it, less so.
Mr. Hamilton was not very good at covering his tracks when he went on to sexually harass dozens of men and women around his various employments in the country.
Needless to say, Lewis is now Mayor and his plans are well underway—my construction company being the main contractor—and Hamilton’s dead.
And before anyone accuses me of killing the man, I didn’t do it.
I had my brother do it for me. No need to shed blood when someone I know loves to do it instead.
For the past two years, I’ve wormed my way into every aspect of Mayor Lewis’s life, and I’m like a dog with a bone. I won’t quit until I get what I’m owed.
A seat on the Council.
It’s what my father would have wanted.
“I’ll be brief, Mr. Mayor, I know how busy you are,” I say. Laying it heavy on the flattery so he lowers his guard hurts my tongue, but it’s a necessary evil with such a prideful man. “Elections are coming up in May for the Council, as you very well know, having been elected four times in a row yourself. I need you to back my campaign.”
Lewis is still unsure about his support and I need to know why and how I can fix it.
Long gone are the days where the name Capaldi was synonymous with crime. My father served five years for assault when I was ten and we all learned our lesson then.
Don’t get caught.
After his release and until his death ten years ago, we worked together relentlessly to polish our public image. We built an empire that has hands in everything from construction to waste management to social care, keeping cybersecurity and our access to black market goods on the side for rainy days.