John Sinclair: Demon Hunter Volume 6 (English Edition)

By Jason Dark and NAMCOOo

The work of a demon hunter is never done! While John Sinclair's still in Romania, hot on D Kalurac's trail, a band of vampires cause trouble in London. Not only do their spawn infiltrate a British ministry, the vampires even kidnap Bill Connolly's wife and son! John Sinclair has to pull out all the stops to put an end to D Kalurac's plans!

But evil is never without company, and John also has to travel to a French monastery to decipher the mystery behind "aeba". Just what could it mean? The final story in this volume sees John head to Wales, where he has to prevent the nachzehrers from rising...and do battle with a familiar face.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J-Novel Pulp
• Release date: Apr 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781718351301

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

The Compilation

About the Author

Episode 21: Dracula Cordially Invites

Episode 22: The Vampire Trap

Episode 23: The Skull Crew

Episode 24: The Necromancer

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

The Compilation

Episode 21: Dracula Cordially Invites

John and Suko were chasing Dracula’s nephew in the graveyard. The stench of death, mould and rot filled their noses.

Suddenly, a bony claw stretched out of the bushes. Sinclair grabbed it with lightning speed. Bent fingers clamored around John’s right hand wrist. He heard a mocking giggle. Sinclair was suddenly ripped forward. He staggered, just stopping himself from falling into the abyss. Then Suko intervened...

Episode 22: The Vampire Trap

My whole body was shaking as an elder vampire approached me from the side. This was Ceprac, the Austrian. He stretched out his arm and touched me. Then his lips curled back, revealing a pair of yellow fangs. I let him get as far as my shoulder, then shoved him back. The old one didn’t fight back: he fell to the floor and howled.

His screams provided a cue for the twins, who immediately sprinted at me...

Episode 23: The Skull Crew

AEBA — what does this word mean?

AEBA — only four letters. Each of them written by the devil himself.

What is AEBA? Is it the secret of life itself? Or is it the secret of hell?

I had also learned about AEBA and had tried to solve the riddle. But before I could really start playing the game, I had fallen into a trap with no way out.

What began in a small vicarage near London, ended in a fight to the death high in the Pyrenees...

Episode 24: The Necromancer

The nachzehrer are a type of German vampire. They fall squarely between vampire and ghoul. They lie in their graves and, when ordered by the necromancer, they lure the living and draw them into the moist earth.

They pant and munch, pulling at their shrouds, and can never find peace.

If you walk through the graveyard when the wind is still and quiet, and you hear them making these noises, it will signal your end.

About the Author

Jason Dark (real name: Helmut Rellergerd) was raised in Dortmund and wrote his first story in 1966, a mystery in the Cliff Corner series. Seven years later, he left his day job as a chemical engineer to join the editorial team at Bastei Verlag, writing and editing for various crime series including Jerry Cotton, Kommissar X and John Cameron before creating John Sinclair. Since Sinclair’s debut in 1973, Jason Dark has written over 1,500 adventures for the Demon Hunter, and his stories have been adapted for comics, audio dramas and a TV series.

Episode 21: Dracula Cordially Invites

I was overwhelmed by the stench of death, mould, and rot...

And a bony claw!

In a fraction of a second, it had grabbed me. Bent fingers closed around my right wrist, pushing it down so that the barrel of my Beretta pointed downwards to the dark, unfathomable depths.

My ears were filled with devilish giggling. The next thing I knew, I was pulled forward, directly towards the abyss.

I screamed.

That’s when Suko jumped in.

Like a predator, my partner plunged forward and managed to grab hold of me before I completely disappeared into the opening.

My Chinese friend and partner pulled me back harshly. I landed on my back and rolled over several times while a creature from my worst nightmares climbed out of the pit. The very sight of it sent shivers down my spine.

The creature was like a jellyfish and looked like a wobbling, round mass. It shimmered green-yellow, was transparent in places, and underneath the jelly-like skin, thick veins ran like a spiders’ web. The creature did not have a face, and if there was anything that could be described as a face, it disappeared from one second to the next to form something new.

Oversized arms stretched down to the floor. When they made contact with the floor, a liquid flowed off them that sucked up the organic substances from the ground and digested them.

For example, bugs and rabbits. Maybe even wolves... and people.

Yes, even the latter.

This creature was a ghoul!

It was one of the worst demons you could imagine. Ghouls were even cast out of their own demon families. They were only left alive when there was no other option, and they often lived in old graveyards, deep under the earth where they dug tunnels from one grave to the next.

I don’t need to describe what they ate. Every time I saw a ghoul, it shook me to my core. Yes, I had also dealt with these demons in the past. A few years ago, I had managed to get into a ghoul’s labyrinth. I had chased it down under the graveyard. It was one of my worst adventures.

Since then, I’ve hated ghouls.

My skin burned where the claw had touched it, as if someone had poured acid over me. I had dropped my torch when I fell. It was next to the gravestone and was still on.

But I held my Beretta in my hand.

Pffft!

The sound rang behind me, and I knew that Suko had shot with his air pistol.

It hit the centre of the ghoul, but the oak bolt was just swallowed up before the creature moved on forward.

It wanted me.

The shape of the slimy monster was covered by swaths of fog. The bizarre clouds of mist formed an eerie dance around it. A riverlet of slime came away from the lumpy ghoul’s foot and started to run towards me.

I shot.

My Beretta bellowed twice.

Both of my blessed silver bullets hit their target. Ghouls — as terrible as they were — came from the lower ranks of demons. They were not immune to blessed silver.

Neither was this one.

Its shapeless form started to collapse, being destroyed from the inside. It degenerated to form a porridge-like liquid that slowly seeped into the ground.

The ghoul, which had probably spent centuries in Romania’s underground, was now breathing its last.

And I had made sure of that.

We didn’t need to look for the rest of the vampires. The ghoul would have killed them...

Nevertheless, I picked up the torch and shone it in the pit. Somewhere in the depths, I thought that I saw bones shimmering. I could have been wrong, though.

Behind me, Marek spoke to Suko. Marek didn’t know what monster had attacked us.

Suko explained it to him.

I put my weapon away, grabbed a cigarette, and lit it. Now that the ghoul had died, the stinging sensation on my skin started to wane. I sat on a gravestone and thought about what had happened.

What had we achieved so far?

A partial success, nothing more.

Suko and I had come to Romania through a twist of fate. My cross had shown me the way, and I still couldn’t decipher the mysterious sigils on it. It had suddenly started to glow one night, radiating a heat that drained me completely. Something had happened.

However, I had no idea that at exactly that moment, while the sigils had been glowing, a vampire called Kalurac was being called back to life. Far away, in Romania, Petroc Jurc had managed to call the vampire forth from his ashes.

Kalurac had been dead for centuries. Courageous men had put a stake through his heart, but neglected to scatter his ashes to the four winds. They had put his ashes into a sarcophagus deep under the Dark Count’s castle. This mistake had now come back to haunt everyone. The signs on the cross had shown me the way to Romania, to the little village called Petrila.

There, I met Marek the Impaler, a man who had taken on a heavy legacy. One of his ancestors had helped to impale Kalurac. Since then, every male member of the Marek family had carried the title ‘the Impaler’. Marek had hidden the oak stake for years in an old chest in the attic of his house. As soon as he noticed that Kalurac had been brought back to life, he went and fetched his oak stake so that he could kill the vampire once more. He was too late. Kalurac had already disappeared and taken his first victim. He had turned the man who had resurrected him into a vampire. Marek had had to kill Petroc Jurc to stop any further damage from being caused.

There was something else that bothered him. He no longer possessed the mysterious cross that his ancestors had protected with their lives. The cross had been passed from one hand to the next and found its way to England. To me. It had been given to me by a Romanian living in London — her name was Vera Monössy — shortly before she had passed on. Since then, I had always carried the cross with me and it had often saved my life in the past.

Suko and I had travelled to Romania. But the Dark Count had not stayed inactive. He had attacked the Varescu family in their sleep and sown the seed of evil.

Suko, Marek, and I had chased the Varescus. Their trail had led us to an old graveyard, where we hoped to find the vampires’ hiding place. We did.

It was the old pit in which the ghoul had lived. The demon had saved us the job of killing them.

However, the initiator of the whole thing had disappeared. We had no idea where Kalurac was. That was why I was more than worried. Had I known then that Kalurac was in league with an Austrian vampire family and that he had flown to London, I would have packed up my things straight away and returned as quickly as possible. As it was, I thought he was still in Romania.

In reality, D Kalurac had a very different plan in mind. He wanted to found an alliance of blood; in other words, he wanted to unite all vampires under his wing.

A terrible plan. Europe would suffocate under a deluge of vampires! In order to realise that plan, any possible opponents needed to have been dealt with beforehand.

Suko and I were in Romania. For the vampires, we were no real danger to their plans.

But I had friends who also fought against the powers of darkness.

Bill Conolly, for example. Or Jane Collins, the blonde-haired private detective.

They wanted to stop Kalurac and his helpers. As I’ve already mentioned, neither Suko nor myself had any idea of this.

I stubbed out my cigarette. The others saw that as a kind of sign to get moving and came over to me.

I got up. ‘Where else could Kalurac be?’ I asked. I turned to old Marek for an answer.

‘Maybe he went back to his castle.’

‘We should have a look,’ Suko said.

I thought about whether that made any sense, but then agreed. I didn’t want it to be said that I had not turned over every available stone.

‘How far away is it?’

Marek shrugged. ‘We could be there within half an hour. Around midnight.’

I nodded.

Once again, we started to walk through the sea of fog. We had to be careful not to hit our heads on any trees or low-hanging branches.

There was meant to be a bridle path that went up to the castle, but Marek could not find it in the fog. So we made our way through the woods and had a bit of exercise while we did so.

At one point, I ducked in sudden surprise at a night bird flying over my head.

We waded through moist leaves and plants that were often slippery as if a layer of ice had formed on them. It sometimes made us slide backwards on our way up through the steep pathway.

After a while, we left the woods and stood in a clearing. The fog hung before us like a wall of cotton wool.

We slowly managed to make out shapes in the fog when we walked up closer.

I saw that the castle was rather ruinous. It definitely had an interesting story to tell. Long slithers of fog krept out of large holes in the masonry and waved over the inner courtyard like flags.

Marek led us to where he had gone down into the dungeon. We went the same way. My torch lit up the darkness. The smell of mould and rot came out to meet us. Then we got to the part of the dungeon where the Impaler had killed Petroc Jurc.

The man was still lying there.

‘I... I... haven’t had the time to give him a proper burial,’ the Impaler said as an apology. ‘I will take care of it later.’

While he said that, I walked over to the open sarcophagus and shone my torch inside. The animal blood had dried up and formed a thick crust.

Other than that, the vampire’s grave was empty. Just as empty and abandoned as the rest of the entire complex. We left the castle without having discovered any sign of life.

By the time we started to make our way back, a new day had begun. I was not the only one who felt tired. Marek also started to yawn every now and then.

‘A couple of hours’ sleep will do us good,’ he said.

The village was like dead. I felt like I was walking through a ghost town. Not a sound could be heard to interrupt the oppressive silence. Our steps made no echo. There was nothing — just a suffocating, grey, moist prison. For a lot of people, the fog made them depressed. At this particular point, I could well understand their response.

We got to the smith’s house, and Marek was surprised that the light was still on.

‘Why is Marie not in bed yet?’ he asked, more to himself than either of us. ‘Normally, she can’t get to bed early enough.’

‘Maybe she was worried,’ I answered.

Marek opened the door. ‘We’ll see.’

The Impaler took a mere two steps over the threshold when he suddenly stood still as if he had hit a wall.

‘Marie!’ he cried, as he ran to his wife and knelt down beside her.

Then we also saw what had happened.

Marie Marek squatted on the floor. She held on to a large wooden cross and next to her lay an older woman whom we did not know, but whom the cross had clearly burnt itself into.

The older woman must have been a vampire, because she was no longer alive.

It looked like Marie had killed her.

Frantisek Marek grabbed his wife by the shoulders. ‘What happened?’ he called out in desperation. ‘For heaven’s sake, say something!’

She pointed to the woman. ‘She’s dead!’ Marie whispered, barely audible.

‘Who is it?’ I asked the Impaler. ‘Do you know the deceased?’

‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘It is Silva Varescu, the lady from...’

‘So she wasn’t in the graveyard,’ Suko said.

‘It certainly looks that way,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should assume that more members of the family are still alive.’

Marek turned his head and looked up at me. ‘Don’t tempt fate!’

I shrugged. ‘As a precaution, we should search the entire village.’

Then his wife joined in. ‘She... She came on her own,’ she explained. ‘Otherwise, she would have told me. She was very sure of herself. She wanted to make me a vampire so that we could turn the whole village.’

Marie Marek stopped speaking. She was suddenly shaken with tears.

The Impaler comforted her. ‘It’s over now,’ he said. ‘I’m here with you and you don’t need to be scared of the vampires anymore.’

‘Did you... Have you...?’

‘Yes, Marie. We killed them.’

‘Thank heavens!’ the woman sobbed. She got up.

‘It would be best if you went to lie down,’ I said, trying to smile. ‘Sleep will do you good. Tomorrow, everything will look different.’

The lady nodded. Then she pointed to the corpse. ‘What will happen to her?’

I answered. ‘We will bury her. Don’t you worry about that.’

‘Come on, now,’ Marek said. ‘You have to lie down, Marie.’

She went with her husband. We could still hear them talking. ‘I was so alone, Frantisek. No one helped me. I started to pray and I took hold of the cross. Suddenly, God gave me the strength to fight the powers of Hell.’

Suko and I went into the kitchen. We sat down at the table after taking off our wet jackets. Neither of us spoke. Only the clock on the wall ticked.

Five minutes later, Marek came back. He pointed his thumb towards the ceiling. ‘Marie is asleep now. She was completely exhausted.’

‘Small wonder after what she has been through.’ I stood up. ‘A different question. Shall we bury the lady now?’

Marek nodded. ‘I think so.’ He nodded towards the window. ‘It is still foggy, so no one will see us.’

‘Do you know where we can do it?’

Marek nodded. ‘Yes, I have a small garden behind the house. We can put her there.’

Suko and I agreed.

‘Then, let’s get to it,’ I said. My voice sounded husky. I had the impression that no one wanted to make the first step.

We went out into the hallway and I got started. I picked up the corpse by the shoulders, while Suko took her legs. Marek opened the back door.

Once again, we walked out into the moist, foggy air. We walked past the forge, turned a corner, and came to a small garden.

The fruit trees looked eerie with their empty branches. We walked through the garden and towards the far corner.

‘I’ll get the tools,’ said Marek.

He disappeared and came back a few minutes later, carrying two spades. Suko and he started to dig.

Marek had also brought an old blanket. Together, we wrapped the body inside and put her into the freshly dug grave.

Marek recited a short prayer. After that, we piled the earth onto the cold, stiff body, hammered it down, and went back into the house.

We sat down at the kitchen table again. The Impaler fetched a bottle of homemade schnapps. We had all earned a shot or two. We drank in silence. The drink didn’t burn the way it had done the first time around.

‘I will not tell anyone who is in our garden,’ Marek promised. ‘My wife will also keep her mouth shut, I guarantee that.’

‘Who else in Petrila knows that the Dark Count has been brought back to life?’ I asked.

‘Only my wife and I,’ Marek answered. ‘The others have all died.’

‘And the mayor?’

Marek grinned bitterly. ‘He is an old fool and an idiot. He’s also a blabbermouth and a bigwig. He will think up some nonsense story, but he will never guess what the truth is. He is too stupid for that.’

‘You don’t seem to have much of an opinion of your village leader,’ I said.

‘That’s true. I don’t like fickle people.’ Marek changed the subject. ‘And you? What are you going to do now? Your job in Petrila is done, isn’t it?’

‘Well, if you put it that way, yes.’ I agreed with the man. ‘Although we didn’t do much. You were the valuable one who started everything off.’

Marek shook his head.

Suko turned around on his chair. ‘Then there is nothing to stop us from returning to London,’ he said. ‘Think about the magazines that Bill gave you. The articles always spoke about vampires.’

‘Do you think the resurrection of the Dark Count is connected to all of those incidents?’

‘I think so.’

‘In other words, the danger is no longer here, but back home in Blighty?’

Suko nodded seriously.

I had also had similar thoughts, but had dismissed them as too fantastical. However, the more we learned about what was going on, the more probable it seemed that Suko was right.

‘As far as I’m concerned, we are ready to go,’ I said.

‘Do you want to go back to England today?’ Marek asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Then take me with you.’

Suko and I looked at each other in surprise and Marek smiled.

‘What is so strange about that? Think about the fate that I have inherited. I want to destroy Kalurac, even if it’s the last thing I do.’

From his point of view, Marek was right.

‘But what will your wife say about it?’ I ventured.

‘Marie? She has just killed a vampire and will agree with me, I’m sure.’

I clapped my hand on the table. ‘Okay, then you’d best pack your bags.’

***

Bill Conolly grinned at his reflection. With exact and well-practised movements, he tied his tie. Sheila had bought him a new one that went with the blue silk shirt that he had bought when he got his new suit.

Going to the theatre really did take a lot of effort.

They intended to start their evening off in the theatre. From there, they would progress to a restaurant and then end the evening in a small bar...

End?

Bill smiled when he thought about it. The evening would definitely not end there. After the taxi brought them home and they sent the childminder off... Bill whistled through his teeth. That was what a man looked forward to when he was married to a beautiful wife.

Bill said that every time.

And since Johnny had been born, one could say that happiness was as much a constant part of the Conolly household as the parents themselves. The little one really was a bundle of joy.

In honour of the godfather, the parents had called their son John. Maybe he would also become a famous demon hunter like John Sinclair. Sheila would most probably do everything she could to prevent that from happening. She didn’t like watching Bill join me in my dangerous and exciting adventures. Of course, as a loving wife, she was worried.

Bill had promised to stop accompanying me on my adventures and to stay at home, but every once in a while, he felt that he had no choice but to join in. The urge just had to be let out. He was also too involved. The demons knew that their enemy was not only John Sinclair, but also Bill Conolly. They would often attack him directly, both him and his family, as they had done right before the birth of little John.

The Conollys had been caught in a web of devilish intrigue by demons, but they’d managed to free themselves at the very last minute. All thanks to John Sinclair.

Bill often thought about his old friend. He started to do so right then, but Sheila interrupted his train of thought.

‘Are you ready, Bill?’

‘As ready as can be.’

‘Then come over here!’

Sheila had got dressed in the room next door. Bill expected she’d put on a new dress and wanted to show him how it looked.

But the reporter was wrong. Sheila couldn’t do her dress up.

The dress was a vision of sky blue. It was shoulderless and ankle length. Normally it would have been supported by two straps that were tied in a knot behind the neck.

It was this tie fastening that was causing her problems.

‘Help me, Bill!’

The reporter smiled and took up the two straps in his left hand, while the fingers of his right hand stroked gently but demandingly over her tanned skin and touched her shoulder-length blonde hair.

‘Do you know how much I love you, darling?’ Bill whispered into his wife’s ear.

Sheila leaned back and pressed her body against his for a second. ‘Not now, Bill. Afterwards...’

‘We have time. I mean...’

Sheila pulled away from him. The straps fell out of Bill’s hands and the dress fell to the floor.

Bill Conolly whistled through his teeth when he saw the thin straps of the bra that moulded it to Sheila’s well-formed back. ‘What a view.’

Sheila quickly pulled her dress up, laughing. ‘You’re incorrigible, Bill.’

‘And you’re the most beautiful mother I know!’

‘Then be a good husband and help me, otherwise we’ll be too late.’

Bill didn’t give up. ‘It wouldn’t be a huge problem.’

Sheila smiled and turned her back to her husband. ‘You’ve forgotten about the childminder, my dear.’

‘We can send Polly away.’

‘I was looking forward to going to the theatre, Bill.’

‘My artwork is better.’ Bill still hadn’t tied up the straps when the doorbell rang.

‘That’ll be Polly,’ Sheila said. ‘Please, Bill, hurry up.’

‘You really want to go to the theatre?’

‘You know that I do.’

Bill dropped the straps and ran out of the room laughing before Sheila could say anything after him.

Polly was still in front of the gate. She had to walk through the large front garden to get to the house. The gate was remote-controlled and slid to the side after Bill had made sure that it really was Polly.

She drove her Citroën up the windy pathway to the door and parked in front of the house. Bill waited for her in the open front door.

Polly was in her mid-twenties, full-figured, with short, strawberry-blonde hair and a face covered in freckles. Her jeans were so tight that they were almost bursting at the seams and her jumper was not just well filled out at the front.

This was not the first time that she would look after little John. The two got on really well.

‘Hello, Mr Conolly,’ she said briskly. ‘Here I am, punctual as always.’

Bill stretched out his hand. ‘And I thought that students these days were always tardy.’

Polly smiled. ‘Not when money is involved.’

‘That’s right.’ Bill hit his forehead. ‘Right, money. Here’s a bank note.’

The reporter gave her a ten-pound note. Polly’s green eyes widened. ‘Wow, you’re generous. I like working for you. You even give me free food and drinks.’

They went into the house.

At that moment, Sheila came through the hallway. ‘Ah, Polly,’ she said. ‘Hello.’

‘You look fantastic,’ said Polly. ‘Now I see where the money goes.’

Bill shook his head. ‘It’s not that bad,’ he answered on behalf of his wife.

‘What is the theatre you’re going to called?’ Polly asked.

‘The Coliseum Theatre, not far from Piccadilly.’

Polly nodded. ‘Nice place. And you, Mr Conolly, no dinner jacket?’

Bill grinned. He liked Polly’s forthright character. ‘Firstly, it’s only a musical and secondly, it’s not a premiere.’

‘And what are you going to see?’ Polly’s greatest characteristic was her curiosity.

‘The King and I. It came out of the ark, but this time it’s supposed to feature real good Broadway stars.’

‘Then I hope you have a great time! Don’t forget, I collect programmes.’

‘We’ll bring you one.’

Polly turned to Sheila. ‘Is the little one asleep, Mrs Conolly?’

‘Yes, but come with me, Polly. I’ve written some things down in the kitchen that I really need you to pay attention to.’ The two women disappeared into the kitchen.

Bill went into the living room. He sat down in an armchair, lit up a cigarette, and switched on the television. The only things on were news and adverts. On another channel, there was an American Western series, which wasn’t much better than the news.

Then Sheila came into the room. ‘Are you ready, Bill?’

The reporter jumped up. ‘Have been for a while.’

‘Let’s get going then.’ Sheila had slipped a white ermine coat over her bare shoulders. A simple but genuine pearl necklace framed her thin neck. In her right hand, she carried a narrow bag. ‘Would you go out with me like this?’

Bill put out his arms. ‘Nothing would give me more pleasure, darling.’ He laughed, walked over to his wife, and kissed the tip of her nose.

She didn’t want to go and see Johnny one last time, because she was scared that he would wake up.

Polly stood at the door when the Conollys left the house. ‘Have a great time,’ she called. ‘Have fun!’

‘Thank you, we will!’ Bill called back. He drove up to the gate in the Porsche. Bill could control it from the car. They left their property and turned into Villa Street.

Neither of them saw the hearse that was parked between the trees.

Two pale-faced men in dark clothing got out.

When, for a fraction of a second, they stood under the light of a street lantern, a bright drop of blood glistened in the corner of the mouth of one of them.

A sign that he had already had ‘food’. The men’s faces were still and solemn when they stiffly marched up to the Conollys’ property.

D Kalurac’s plan had now entered phase two!

***

The bulging index finger of the man wandered slowly over the columns in the advertisement section. The only sound to be heard was a quick cough and the odd sigh.

The man was looking at special types of advertisements.

In the lonely hearts column.

Models, hostesses, and apparent students offered their services. Their telephone numbers were right next to each advertisement.

The thick fingers grabbed a pencil and drew a red line around a certain box.

Red-haired model offers private show. Any time, even night.

That was exactly what he was looking for. His thick fingers started to push the buttons on the phone.

He listened, without breathing. Then a voice answered. Slightly smoky, sounding sinful. In any case, well-rehearsed.

‘Hello?’

‘Do you come in the evenings as well?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, I will be waiting for you.’

A laugh. Both cooing and tempting at the same time. ‘Should I bring anything with me?’

‘No, no, just come as you are. Wait a minute and I’ll give you my address. It’s easy to find.’ The man gave his address and hung up the phone.

With a handkerchief, he wiped his sweaty brow. The calls annoyed him, every time. He had already had nightmares about them. Sometimes, he dreamt that his wife would answer when he called, but she was far away in Manchester, looking after the children and the house.

But he... he was in London. For five days a week, Dom de Louise was an economic secretary. He worked in Her Majesty’s Treasury and had a very high-paying position there. Dom de Louise was one of the links between the economy and the state. He often travelled abroad and led a double life. At home, he was the doting father, but in London or abroad, he became a tiger.

Then, Dom de Louise didn’t miss out on anything. He had the money. He had to pay for his sexual encounters, because Dom was not someone one could describe as good-looking. Quite the contrary.

Dom de Louise was ugly. Without exaggeration, he could easily be described as fat. His layers wrapped his torso like a set of rubber rings. His neck was barely visible. The small head sat directly on his shoulders. His thin black hair had a parting in the middle and was curled at the ends.

His eyes and pointed mouth could barely be seen.

As already stated, Dom de Louise was not really someone that people wanted to look at, but he was quick off the mark. He was a specialist in his field, and he had not managed to meet a worthy opponent.

His weakness was women. And Dom de Louise was ready to pay out for them. He was a regular punter with London’s call girls. He didn’t have the nickname ‘Tubby’ for nothing. And Dom de Louise enjoyed it when girls came around to take care of him.

In Mayfair, he rented the entire floor of an old building. The rent was eye-wateringly expensive, but Dom de Louise didn’t need to hand over his every penny.

His bathroom was as sinful as his rent. It was more a bathroom-cum-living room. It had a round bathtub with space for two people. There were mirrors on the walls. Brown, fluffy carpet covered the floor, absorbing the cold from the tiles, and the room even had a well-stocked bar.

Smiling and walking into the bathroom, Dom de Louise rubbed his hands together. He had already made all the preparations and wore a silk dressing gown over his naked body. The material showed every single roll of fat, but that didn’t bother him and the girls he ordered were more than willing to look away when he put down the money.

Dom de Louise made sure that everything was in order, nodded in satisfaction, and grabbed one of his small, thin cigarillos.

Then the doorbell rang.

The man jumped. Was she already there? That was really fast, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. A smile served to hide various characteristics on his face, and with a throbbing heart, he walked to the door.

What would the little one look like? He was nervous every time. The girls were often shocked when they saw him, but they were quickly comforted when they saw the money he was willing to pay.

Dom opened the door, and what he saw took his breath away.

The girl before him was a vision!

She had wavy, strawberry-blonde hair, wore a tight, shiny green trouser suit, and had a fur jacket wrapped around her shoulders. The lady didn’t have much make-up on, which made the paleness of her skin stand out even more.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘May I come in?’

Dom de Louise cleared his throat, nodded, and moved aside. With swinging hips, the lady walked past him, and Dom’s eyes had a chance to view her backside.

He’d had call girls before, but this one blew the others out of the water completely.

She stood at the table and turned herself around suggestively.

‘Do you not want to close the door?’

‘Yes, of course, right away.’ He closed the door. ‘I... I am a little blown away.’

‘Why?’

He laughed. ‘Can you not imagine why?’

‘Shall we have a drink?’ she asked.

‘As you wish.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I have a bar in the bathroom. If you want to...?’

She looked at him sideways. ‘Always...’

‘Okay.’ Dom de Louise put his hands around her shoulders and felt the taut, tight skin. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked in a rough voice.

‘Call me Rebecca...’

Dom de Louise rolled his eyes, which looked weird when he did it. ‘Rebecca,’ he repeated. ‘What a name. It promises a lot.’

‘I should hope so.’

They walked into the bathroom and Rebecca gasped in surprise.

‘Do you like it?’

‘And how, my dear.’

‘By the way, you can call me Dom.’

‘What a strange name.’

‘It isn’t. It’s short for Dominic. You just have to know that.’ He laughed.

The champagne was on a small stool. The neck of the bottle, wrapped in a white towel, peeped out of the bucket. The ice cubes clashed against each other when Dom de Louise pulled the bottle out of the bucket. With a well-rehearsed movement, he pulled the cork out. The champagne swelled out of the opening in a stream of foam and ran down the neck of the bottle.

Glasses were already next to the bucket.

Dom de Louise filled the two glasses and gave the girl a glass.

‘Let’s drink to us and the pleasant experience that we are about to have. Cheers!’

Rebecca sipped while Dom emptied half of his glass. He needed to stoke his fire and make his blood flow around his body.

Rebecca smiled coldly. She barely moved her lips, but Dom de Louise didn’t even notice that. He was so nervous