Warlords Of Gaikon

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Richard Blade was in his London flat. It was late evening, but he was not alone. The company was the kind he preferred at that time of night-or at any other time of the day or night when he was at leisure. She called herself Suzanne Aulin-a name that Blade knew was not her real one.

But her long brown hair was real and deliciously silky as he stroked it. Her clear complexion was real, and so were the long, dark brown lashes above very wide and bright dark eyes. Blade couldn't be sure if her figure was all real, because so far she was still fully clothed. But the curves under the red and green pantsuit were promising.

He ran a hand over the crown of «Suzanne's» head, stroking and caressing the fine hair, then down onto the back of her neck. He stroked the fine short hairs there, then brought his hand around and stroked the side of her neck. A receptive glow appeared in her eyes, and a very small, pink tongue crept out to moisten half-parted lips. His hand moved down, under the collar of her blouse, and felt the delicate ridge of her collarbone under the satiny skin. She moved closer to Blade on the sofa.

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