Chapter 10: The Jacuzzi
As Magister Gulag sank into his newly installed jacuzzi, a cloud of white, frothy bubbles created a simmering and effervescent atmosphere. Billows of steam rose upward, twisting through the air, cloaking him in a hazy mist. Just then, a small tuft of blond hair sprouted from the water, peeking out from between his lower extremities as if belonging to a hidden figure lurking beneath the surface.
Gulag checked out the beautiful woman's naked form; her hair cascaded down her shoulders like a golden waterfall. He extended a glass of champagne towards her, a glint of playfulness shone across his eyes.
"Thank you, Doctor." His voice was full of appreciation.
"This has truly been a remarkable experience."
His quarters resembled a study in luxury, with high ceilings and large windows offering panoramic sea views of the rugged coastline. A fine collection of exquisite watercolors and oil paintings, personally stolen from the Royal Box at Aintree, graced the walls as souvenirs of his twisted triumph.
The centerpiece of the room was the jacuzzi, of course, a large, circular tub installed into the floor, surrounded by plush lounge chairs, a well-stocked bar, and a state-of-the-art sound system.
"You know, Magister, I must admit, I'd much rather be here with you in this luxurious haven than in my quarters. The jacuzzi and the breathtaking views are irresistible."
He glared at her with glacial eyes, like a blanket of ice.
"Be quiet."
His fingers danced across the touchscreen remote, bringing the giant TV screen to life. A live press conference flickered into view, filling the room with the sound of voices and images.
The press gathered around a podium, their faces lit up by bursts of camera flashes. Detective Chief Superintendent Maya Khan stepped up to address the assembled reporters.
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"Thank you all for coming. I would like to announce myself as the first female head of Scotland Yard."
Gulag settled into the Jacuzzi, feeling the vortex of the jets tingle through his back. The woman's hand reached below the water toyingly.
"What fools. They have no idea they are spewing out the cover story that I alone orchestrated."
Khan spoke of honoring the victims, and she paid a touching tribute to the former head of Scotland Yard, Chief Inspector Sanderson.
But Gulag knew the truth—Sanderson had come too close to exposing his nefarious plot.
His hand absentmindedly caressed her golden hair as he watched the press conference unfold—some uninteresting veterinarian doctor was going on about horses or whatever. Suddenly, a loud knock on the door interrupted his reverie. Gulag's eyes snapped to where Royal Chief of Staff Robinson stood with a disapproving frown.
"Have I not told you, Gulag, to stop frolicking with the personnel?"
"Oh, Robinson. You worry too much. I'm just giving the staff a little morale boost."
"You have already pissed off all the crew with your open displays of extravagance, Gulag," Robinson said.
"Robinson. Don't tell me you don't enjoy the finer things in life; you must enjoy the privileges of the royal household."
"I will remember that when I sleep on my hard bunk tonight. His Royal Highness arrives tomorrow for an inspection. Get your things together and stop playing battleships with one of my chief engineers."
With one last disapproving look at Gulag, Robinson turned and sauntered out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him.
Gulag sidled up to his companion, took another sip of champagne, and puffed on a Cuban cigar.
"Ah, my dear, where were we? You were saying something about appreciating the finer things in life. As much as I appreciate your company. The sensual pleasures of the flesh call me even more."
Gulag leaned in close, his mischievous glint returning.
"Gulag, you are evil," she said coyly.
"Maybe I am, my dear."
Gulag dipped her head between his thighs, going into full bubble mode in the hot tub.