The Offer

1. The Bait.

The casino was busy tonight, but then it always was during the season. And the season in the Bahamas lasted pretty well all year. Anna Volkova had taken it on in part-payment of a business debt and ran it as a side-line. But like all of her enterprises, side-lines or not, it made a lot of money. The staff knew little about Anna, or Madam Volkova, as she was always known to them., other than that she was a good boss to work for provided that they did their jobs to the best of their abilities and did not try to cheat her. One or two had over the years, much to their cost: retribution had been swift. Not that Madam was cruel or brutal: she did not even fire the members of staff concerned but let us say that her retribution was inventive.

All of her employees' contracts had a clause somewhere in the small print that said something along the lines of: "Management reserves the right to transfer those guilty of offences against, or actions injurious to, the company. This transfer will be to other employment and will be for as long as management deems fit; no notice of redeployment needs be given."

This redeployment was more feared than dismissal or even criminal proceedings: take the case of the blackjack dealer who had thought that he could get away with fixing the deck and dealing winning hands to his accomplice. It would have worked if they had run the scam only once but they became greedy and repeated it eleven times over a month.

They had been conducted to the security office where they were shown CCTV footage of each win. The dealer was stunned: he did not know that the camera existed and had immediately confessed everything to Madam Volkova, who had flown in especially from Singapore. She had smiled and nodded in an understanding sort of way. The rogue dealer, who had expected her to be upset and abusive, was surprised when his accomplice was offered a choice between working for the organisation or facing criminal proceedings. Without thinking, he had signed the contract. They had then spent the next four years working twelve hour shifts onboard a factory ship which was part of a deep sea fishing fleet before returning to the Bahamas and the casino... Such was Madam's sense of justice.

The Volkova business empire was very complex, large, exotic and diverse: it literally had branches everywhere. She was not a control freak, but believed in hands on management and made snap inspections without warning and liked to visit every part of her organisation at least twice a year: she worked hard; but played hard also. No one knew a great deal about her: they knew that she was Russian and loathed President Vladimir Putin but that was about it. Her actual background was known only to very few. So it was when Molly and Tom Talbot flew in for their holiday.

Tom was twenty four, Molly a year younger and they had married while at University three years earlier. The Holiday had been Molly's Dad's idea and he had paid for it as a sort of belated Wedding present. The pressure of completing their degrees, then setting up a home and starting their new jobs meant that they had not even had a honeymoon.

There was nothing outstanding about either of them to look at; Molly was a slim red head who at five foot nine was two inches taller than fair-haired Tom. She was attractive but not in a conventionally beautiful way and was well built, although she wished that her breasts were more prominent than 34B. Tom had handsome delicate features and was small boned. They were happily married but had put off starting a family until after they became established in their careers. A mistake that a lot of couples make.

They had spent the first few days, lounging on the beachs or seeing the sights and the evenings visiting the various bars and clubs: it was Wednesday before the found their way into the casino. Molly liked a flutter, but Tom was not so keen and kept pointing out to her that they couldn't afford to lose anything. Molly had just smiled and headed for the pontoon table: her husband joined the spectators and stood behind her watching.

She made minimum bets, but her eyes were everywhere, and registered every card. Each time she won Tom made an appreciative comment but when she lost he groaned. She was about thirty Bahamian Dollars down when she turned to Tom. "Darling, be an angel and go get me a drink: just tonic water, nothing else, it helps me concentrate."

Tom nodded and headed to the nearest bar: drinks prices in the casino were really cheap: alcohol made the patrons take risks and most risks worked in the house's favour.

Tom ordered a large tonic water and a double Irish whiskey and when the barman asked if he would like anything in the tonic, he said "No!"

He trotted back to the table and was just in time to be horrified to see Molly stake B$100 on a ten . On the second round Molly received a Queen. She ignored the other five players.

The dealer looked around: "House pays twenties!" She announced and Molly had doubled her money. Tom cheered.

She thanked Tom for the drink. "Helps me to concentrate." She said again as she drank some of it and grimaced at the sharp taste of quinine.

Then it was back to minimum bets for several hands when Molly staked B$100 on a four. Tom looked at Molly, her face was expressionless.

The dealer dealt and Molly received a two, but when the dealer declared Pontoon, he was surprised to see his wife smile slightly as the other players all folded. She bought the next two cards for B$100 each, and twisted a six as her final card.

The Dealer looked at Molly uneasily and announced: "House pays five card tricks only!"

Molly showed her cards which added up to eighteen and received three hundred dollars. Tom was not the only one to cheer this time, and as Molly played on, a crowd began to gather and the table rapidly achieved its maximum of seven players. The pattern continued but Molly was now making more frequent B$100 bets: each one a winner and the money rolled in.

As it so happened, Anna Volkova was in the casino that night: she had arrived without warning two days before and was clearly looking for something, although she did not confide in the staff who did not dare question her as to what it was she was seeking. She was up in the security gallery, the raised corridor that ran round the outside of each of the playing rooms, bars and restaurants, but was hidden from them by large mirrored windows. She was deep in thought while appearing to watch one of the roulette tables when a tall, heavily built black man, one of the Security team, came hurrying up to her.

"Excuse me, Madam." The man said respectfully.

She snapped out of her reverie instantly, looked at him and smiled, then gently reached up and straightened his bow tie. "Yes, Winston, how may I help you?" She said returning the respect.

"Madam, we believe that there is a card-counter at work at the pontoon table." He said quietly.

The small, slim blonde woman looked up at him with a sparkle in her ice-blue eyes. She answered with only a slight hint of a native Russian accent. "Amateur or professional?"

Winston smiled back, relieved that the woman did not mind being disturbed.

"Amateur, Madam, she never stakes more than a hundred dollars. With her skill, a professional would be staking the house limit."

The Russian woman nodded her agreement and still smiling said: "Show her to me, please!"

Winston lead the way along the heavily carpeted gallery, with its dim lighting, them right at the 'Tee' junction and into the section that passed between two of the large rooms and had windows on both sides. He stopped at the closest point to the casino's sole pontoon table. He looked down and indicated a woman. "That's her: the slim red head in her early twenties." He said.

Anna looked and as she did so the woman won another B$100 of her money. Anna smiled: the woman, who was scarcely more than a girl, had a pale complexion and hair that reached down to her shoulder blades. Attractive, but not an outstanding beauty.

"The fair-haired man behind her is either her boyfriend or husband: he's a couple of inches shorter than she is." The security man added quietly.

Madam shifted her gaze to the slim blonde man with the boyish, handsome face. He was about the same age as the girl. She watched the pair for several minutes and her expression became calculating. Suddenly her eyes seemed to light up as she said:

"Bingo!" very quietly.

"Madam, you want us to turf them out?" Winston asked.

Anna laughed. "No, they're not cheating or breaking the rules, and besides she is drawing quite an audience. Its good for the crowd to see a winner: it makes them want to play even more. Get the bar staff to serve complementary Champaign... Tell the crowd its to celebrate the lady's winning streak: follow it with a round of strong cocktails. I want to get plenty of alcohol into them before they start playing."

Winston began to mutter instructions into his lapel mic and presently mini-skirted cocktail waitresses were plying the crowd with complementary drinks. After ten minutes the onlookers were becoming more enthusiastic.

Madam carried on watching, never taking her eyes off the young couple. "Who's the dealer?" She asked absently.

"Bianca-Sebastiana, Madam, she's worked here for three years." Winston answered.

"She's been working hard, send a replacement down and give her an early break... best to check that it isn't a scam!"

Again the security man muttered into his lapel mic and after a few minutes, an elderly grey-haired man wearing a dinner jacket walked up to the dealer and whispered something to her. She nodded gratefully and handed the table over to him.

The red-head carried on playing as if nothing had happened, winning another B$200 shortly afterwards.

An hour later, Madam was still watching when suddenly, the woman moved away from the table: she had made a mistake and lost a hundred. She clearly knew when she was getting tired.

"Winston, I would like to meet them, send a couple of your ladies down to invite them to my private dining-room tell them I would like to congratulate them and celebrate their win and won't take no for an answer."

* * * * *

Tom and Molly were more than a little confused as the two smartly dressed ladies escorted them through the casino and on through a green baize door marked 'private'. They had been told that "Madam" wished to congratulate them personally, but were still more than a little afraid of what was going to happen. Both believed that 'The Mob' ran casinos and that they were really in trouble now.

It goes without saying that the last person they expected to meet was a small Russian lady wearing a Dior evening gown.

"Good evening to you both, I am Anna Volkova, owner of this establishment." She announced as she moved over to shake hands with them. "May I be the first to congratulate you on your winning streak?"

"Tom Talbot!" He announced nervously as he shook hands with the small imposing woman. He was only five foot seven but he seemed to tower over her.

"And I'm Molly Talbot." The red-head said defensively. "We haven't broken the rules, have we?"

The small woman laughed. "Boge moi! No." She answered emphatically. "Quite the reverse in fact: the interest in your winning streak means that people will try to emulate you, business is already up on the blackjack tables. I've probably already taken more because of your win than it has cost me!"

A waitress appeared with three Champaign flutes on a silver tray and Madam drank the health of the winners. She then conducted them to her table which was set for three and bade them be seated.

Molly deposited a pile of casino tiles and chips on the table before she sat down.

"Ah," said Anna, " let me help you." She motioned to the security man who was waiting at the side of the room. "Winston, please cash these in for Madam Talbot."

Then turning to Molly asked. "How would you like them? I do not recommend cash, because news of your win will get around and be exaggerated... There is a certain, er, rough element who will take an interest. I would recommend a cheque or a straight transfer to your Visa or bank account. If you have a debit card, hand it to Winston, and he'll take care of the details."

Tom and Molly looked at each other before she shrugged then dug her bank card out of her small hand bag and handed it to the big security man.

"Now, what would you like to eat? You are my guests: the food served to me here is the same as that in our VIP dining room and that is a minimum of one hundred dollars a cover."

Tom picked up the menu that she indicated and Molly did the same but neither of them were familiar with the dishes listed.

Anna saw their confusion and tried to set them at their ease: "If you cannot make up your minds, may I recommend the lobster thermidor served with crayfish tails and garnished with caviar: its the chef's speciality. Oh, and the wild mushroom soup as a starter: it really is divine!"

They were part way through the soup course when Winston returned and excused his interruption. He handed Molly her debit card. "That was B$12,785 paid into your account as £7,798, Madam."

"Thank you, Winston, please stand by to escort Sir and Madam back to their hotel afterwards and you will see them safely to their room. Their safety is your personal responsibility."

The big man nodded and withdrew from the room.

"Is that really necessary: I thought that the Bahamas were law abiding?" Tom enquired with a mystified air.

"I insist!" The Russian woman said sharply. "If a winner gets mugged then people might just think that it is the casino trying to get their losses back. That would be oh so bad for my business."

The conversation devolved into small talk during which Anna skilfully learned that they were both graduates who lived and worked in East Anglia where Tom grew up. Tom being a personnel analyst for a company called Gov Mart while Molly was an estimator for the Standard Brands Paint Company. No doubt, she concluded, both are on the fast-track management program. They learned precisely nothing about Madam Volkova, however.

Part way through the sweet-course Madam Volkova dropped her bombshell. "This casino isn't my only business interest: in fact it isn't even one of the main ones. I own several oil fields and the production companies that go with them. I am also heavily into mining, construction, transport and banking. Etc. Etc. Etc. In fact if you wanted to be insulting, you could describe me as an 'Oligarch' although I have been called far worse by that poison-dwarf, Putin.

"The net result is I am earning money many times faster than I can spend it so I am in a position to, er, indulge myself!" She looked at them and smiled. It was a powerful smile. "How would you like to earn five million each?"

Tom choked on a mouthful of pavlova but Molly looked her squarely in the eye and asked. "Sterling?"

Anna gasped and then chuckled. "I was going to say 'US dollars', but alright, sterling it is! You both look as if you are worth it!"

Tom and Molly looked at each other and then stared at her but didn't say anything. Anna surmised that they were too shocked.

Anna smiled. "I will pay you one hundred dollars each just to hear my proposition and not run away in horror half way through it!"

All thoughts of the meal forgotten, Molly turned to the Russian, okay: you are on."

Anna said nothing but instead signalled for the waitress to serve coffee and mints.

When this was done, she began. "For some time, I have been seeking a young married couple to come and live with me as my, er, 'companions'. The couple in question must be both good looking and intelligent but must be happy to act as my very personal servants and be willing to be, er, intimate when required."

She looked at them, but they seemed to be in shock. "You will live on my Caribbean Island but you may be required to accompany me on overseas visits: that's not too arduous is it?"

"Umm, no! Sounds fantastic." Tom answered.

Molly agreed, but frowned. "Let me get this straight: you will pay us ten million pounds just to be your sex-slaves? How long for?"

"Until we agree that the contract is over. In the meantime you will get a tax-free salary of £1000 a week each for pocket money. Sex-slaves sounds too pornographic, I much prefer the term 'intimate companions'."

She raised a hand to signal to someone in an adjoining room. A thirty something woman wearing a severe business suit and carrying a document case entered. "This is Natalka Oksana Chownyk, my personal affairs attorney: I guess you Brits would call her my solicitor."

The tall Ukrainian woman smiled: it was almost a leer. "I have contracts drawn up, Madam Anna."

The Russian woman accepted the two folders from her attorney and placed them in front of her guests. "You will see that this all depends on the results of a medical examination tomorrow, for which you will be paid an additional thousand pounds: if you are given a clean bill of health, then the rest of the contract kicks in automatically.

"You will see that this entails certain unspecified body modifications don't worry all bar one are entirely reversible: the one that isn't is permanent body hair removal for both of you: I loath body hair: if you are not willing to undergo this then the deal ends amicably now: you walk out, Winston escorts you to your hotel and you will be paid five thousand pounds for your silence. Do you understand?"

Tom and Molly looked at each other and shrugged. Tom didn't have much more body hair than Molly who regarded pubic and armpit hair as a bloody nuisance.

"Where do we sign?"Tom asked.

"Hang on!" Molly interrupted. "What about our careers? I doubt if our employers will keep our jobs open for an unspecified time."

The Russian woman chuckled. "They will if I buy the companies! But there is a better option. My organisation can always provide a good career for the likes of you two: that way we will be able to, er, keep in touch! Its all there, see clause ten. 'Termination of the contract'."

Molly flipped the document open and read that clause. Wide-eyed, she looked at Anna. "If you are serious, then this is a win-win situation for us. What do we do?"

The lawyer cut in. "Just read through contract, clause by clause and initial each one to show you read it. Any questions, ask now."

Molly and Tom began reading. It seemed straight forward, but Tom asked a question. "These modifications, it says that they may or may not require surgery; what exactly are they for?"

Anna smiled. "Why to make you more attractive to me, for instance, I like to see women with a larger bust, so breast augmentation is on the cards. But don't worry everything, other than the hair removal is completely reversible. Do you actually enjoy shaving, Tom?"

"Umm, N-no, now that you come to mention it, its a bloody nuisance But what if I want to grow a moustache?"

"Over my dead body!" Molly muttered.

"I think that the five million is more than adequate compensation for the loss of that ability! Besides, why would you want to look like a gay-icon?"

Tom blushed and read on. He liked the bit about food and accommodation all found. When he had initialled the last clause, he looked at Molly who had already finished. Together they signed their relevant contracts and handed them over to Anna who signed as the 'Sponsoring Party' and finally the Ukrainian lawyer signed as a witness. It was done.

"Be ready at 10am tomorrow morning and my people will drive you to the private clinic for your medical assessments. Do not eat breakfast as that will mess-up the blood work which will be done first. My people will accompany you and make sure that you are fed and treated properly."