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I looked at my watch yet again and ordered another beer and got some nachos.

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I admired a video of her standing before my hearth. A blazing fire behind her. The heat raised a sheen of sweat on the skin of her back and ass and thighs. She's on tiptoe, tacks beneath her feet, her arms lifted, her hands on the marble of the mantle. She has a black band about her throat. Her pussy's nicely shaved.

I do not have a video of our night together. But I remember her on my bed, admiring her in the mirrors. I remember fucking her. At first she was passionate almost beyond bearing, climaxing hard and clutching me and bouncing beneath me. When she realized that I once again intended to show her what I was made of and what she had to please, she became still and passive.

With the morning light, I arose, still hard I will say. I intended to use the bathroom and then get back on her. I opened the blinds to let in the spring sun. She looked quite exquisite lying there exhausted and exposed, the sheets only over one leg.

From that second story eastern window I could look along the drive to the gate. On the road were several television and other news type trucks. I quickly shut the blinds. I swore. I checked my phone. As soon as it was on, it started buzzing. I saw it'd taken more messages than I'd ever seen before. I checked some websites.

What had been mostly a local Midwest affair when it centered on Dave had become quite a national and global item. No sports figure or politician or entertainment type had misbehaved in a week or so and my line of work is not overly popular.

I had considered the possibility that this would happen, but thought it unlikely. I hadn't thought her parents had the resources or influence to have her located, not when there was nothing to interest law enforcement. I had certainly not thought it could happen so fast.

I was of course in a much better position than Dave. I'd always acknowledged the possibility that my private enjoyments could get out of hand. I had money saved and secured out of the country. I had a good lawyer to protect me from frivolous lawsuits and to protect my severance package.

The ensuing events were unpleasant, but far from fatal. I really only regretted three things. First, my property in California which was very beautiful and which I had to sell at a huge loss. It wasn't mortgaged, but it was unpleasant to only get back pennies on the dollar. Second, my job, I'd always enjoyed working and knew I would miss it. Third, Dave's employer, my last target, got wind of what was afoot and just managed to position itself so that it avoided takeover. If I'd been managing the fight, it would have been dead meat of course. It was unpleasant to have my last project not end in success.

Things weren't so bad. I had many pleasant years to look forward to. When Jane began to lose her looks, I figured I'd be more interested in her as a nurse.

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Again I looked at my watch. I was growing impatient.

We'd walked together into a room in this club in Hong Kong that I'd belonged to for a long time. She was perched on high heeled sandals that'd cost near a thousand dollars. She wore a short silk skirt and a silk halter that laced between her breasts and though spinning the amount of silk contained in those two pieces would've been but the work of a morning for even the most indolent of silk worms, the two pieces'd cost $10,000. The massaging of the fine legs and back, the doing of the beautiful nails, the styling of the once simple bob of brown hair, had been all been similarly expensive.

We'd separated. I'd sat on one of the couches. She walked to the center of the room and stepped onto a low stool. When I'd had an income, I could've afforded the opening bids. but I likely would've dropped out well before the winning amount.

What really annoyed me was that the money wasn't going to us, but to a disaster relief charity. Can you believe it? By that point I was beginning to run low and could've really used it.

The winner took her to a couch and played with her for a time. The other men in the room seemed content or eager to watch. She walked around the room and each man got a good feel. I waved her on when she came to me.

The winner had her strung to a hook in the ceiling. She had to stretch. He whipped her calmly and with skill.

When he tired, they took her down. A pretty woman brought in a basin of warm water and wiped the tears from her face and washed her sweating flesh clean. Another did her makeup. She still didn't use much.

The winner stretched her on a couch and fucked her. Her cries of pleasure did nothing for me. The servant washed her again, then lay on her, her face in Jane's cunt, her cunt over Jane's face. I watched this with some interest as to my knowledge it was her first experience with another woman. When we got back to the hotel, I'd quiz her on it. They played until the winner's lust returned. He fucked her again.

At this point I'd left and gone down to the bar to wait.

Our life was not going as I'd planned. I'd planned to settle someplace relatively cheap but romantic, along the Black Sea in Turkey or along the coast of Chile.

But it didn't happen. We floated from one expensive resort or city to the next. I couldn't stop spending. If I did it would be a sign of weakness. I couldn't even bring myself to fly first class with her. She knew how I'd traveled before.

I'd become a besotted fearful old man. And the money was running low. Soon, I thought, I would have to put on the brakes. And then she might leave.

The night before, in the big hotel bed, out of worry, I'd intended to fuck her through the night. Our grim bit of bondage. I'd been on her for no more than half an hour when such thoughts about money intruded and my erection drained out of me and I had to roll off and stare at the ceiling, unable even to sleep.

I must've dozed off. A touch on my arm jerked me awake. A hard looking young man stood beside me. The bar was dark and quiet and deserted.

"Where's Jane?" I asked.

"She has decided to leave you for new opportunities," the guy said. "I need your cellphone."

"What?"

"We obviously cannot let you take pictures from here. We block wireless so there is no chance any could've left. Your phone."

He took it from my hand. "It will be returned to you at your hotel later in the morning. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"I want to see Jane," I said, shaking off the irrelevance of the phone.

"I'm sorry but she has left and so, I'm sorry to say, must you."

I saw that there were now 3 other men, large guys, watching me. There seemed nothing for it.

When I got back to our suite, I found that all her things were gone. Everything that I'd bought her. When I checked my laptop, every picture and video of her was gone. When my cellphone was returned, all images and videos of her were missing. My backup CDs, when I later checked my safe storage locker back in the States, were also missing.

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Now I live in this expat retirement community halfway down Baja California. For the basic requirements of retired life, I have enough.

Every morning, I will read this over. I will make such edits and additions as occur to me. Every day I'll add everything I can remember about one as yet uncovered day with her, where I've forgotten something, I'll rely on invention. Now I think I will add the first day we spent at the villa in Sardinia. How she lay on the sand of our little private beach. The sun heated her skin so it glowed. There could be no point in playing with wax, her flesh could've melted candles. Her skin felt so good to the slapping hand, the probing finger, the biting tooth.

No. I have a better idea. I will write about the time she spent with Dave. Because they were perhaps close to being happy, I'll perhaps feel some of that. Today I'll imagine what her first Christmas holidays were like, slipping across the backyards under the crisp winter stars.

My goal is extend this to such an extent that I can wake up, start reading, and only finish when it's time to sleep again. My last evening with her will stretch through my every waking moment.