Sinbad in the Sultan's Palace

An offering to his patron, a token of thanks.

Possibly the old dear was too far gone these days to do much about them. But then again, possibly not. If anyone would still know what to do with two pretty company juniors at 79 it would be the boss. And Sin wouldn't want him to have missed out on the party entirely.

He didn't have to worry about the girls objecting or kicking up a fuss either. The Chairman was a well practised charmer. The worse that would happen, if they really didn't like where they'd woken up, was he'd make them a cup of Earl Grey, offer them a painkiller and call them a cab. A gent of the old school, the Chairman.

But that was unlikely. You hardly needed charm on an easy girl with ambitions who had just woken up on a wealthy playboy's sofa, her future apparently about to be handed to her on a plate.

After all, who knew when the greyhound would lose his interest, and therefore when he would be looking for a wife no.7..?

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At 430AM, with the last of the staff directed and the final guests disposed of to the night (or the Chairman's sofa), Sin walked outside with heavy feet and slumped back on lounger besides the pool.

He watched blackness swallow the house as, one by one, the lights went off in the windows and the dark fields crept forward to reclaim the night from Man and his diversions.

Another year, another company party. And with it a milestone: Every woman in the company --- or in any way related to it --- that he had wanted to bed all those years ago, had been bedded. Ten years and ten parties in. It had been a good run.

He had been working on those five blondes for years. Either all at once or none of them at all, he had set himself. Nice when a plan comes together.

Well, that was done. Next year, interns; or so he had told the poor fool who was probably at this moment trying to wrestle his stoned and come-coated wife up the steps to their home.

But could he be bothered? The thing about interns is there's always more along next year, and the year after. And they were all so keen---

He chucked his head back in the lounger and closed his eyes and groaned. He was bored.

He needed the grit of the real world again. Like the old days, when it was just him, the streets, a lot of trouble, and a lot of chance.

And he needed the grit of real women, out in the world, outside his bubble, women that didn't know him from Adam, weren't beholden to him.

His girlfriend was fine. The company pussy was even finer, in all it's variety.

But it was all too easy. and, if he was honest, he felt like most of it was borrowed from the old man. Even his girlfriend had been a company rep.

Maybe an adventure was in order...