Marseille

1. The Garden Party

Valentino Dellucci was once named 'L'uomo più sexy di Napoli'. Twenty years later and he still took a different slender beauty home each night and fell asleep with the same shallow sense of achievement. Tuesday 24th November purred beside him and he looked down at her for the first time with sober, bloodshot eyes. She had a mole on her back. He grunted and got back to reading his newspaper. He always did this after sex. After indulging in his own animalistic desires he thought he'd indulge in the desires of others; the demagogues and dictators, the flaky young celebrities and the overpaid sports stars. He sat lavishly in his nakedness overlooking the twinkling London nightlife. He smiled at his own luck as the bullet sank into his skull.

********

"Jolly awful what happened to old Valentino Dellucci, isn't it?"

Marseille glanced over his own copy of The Times and finished his mouthful.

"I don't know about that, Miles. I met the man several times and I tell you, he wasn't all white smiles behind closed doors. The man was barmy, paranoid as anything."

"He seemed to make plenty of sense to me! Knew how to bed a good girl, at any rate."

George Merryweather sniffed in the corner of the room.

"If I may, Master King, the sexual exploits of Valentino Dellucci are most likely embellished with an ounce of fiction to spice up the headlines."

"Oh be quiet, you old fart Merryweather," King smirked, "I bet you've not seen your cock in thirty years!"

Marseille placed his paper down.

"Come now Miles, that's simply untrue." He stared at King for a moment. "He's found it plenty of times in the guest suite, he doesn't think I realise..."

King roared with laughter. "You dirty bastard!"

George Merryweather went pink and hid behind his pencil moustache.

"And to be fair, Miles," Marseille said as he reclined, "If he were to produce it now - purely for argument's sake, George - I am sure that it would be significantly longer than yours! "

This time George Merryweather conceded and smiled just as a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Charming."

"Ah! Morning, Felicity."

Felicity Penwortham waltzed in, dressed for summer with large sunglasses framing her delicate face. Her hair, however, was everywhere.

"Good morning, Mr Marseille." She sat and looked unappreciatively accross at Miles. "King."

Miles King grinned at her, showing perfect white teeth.

"Felicity, my dearest darling! How are you this fine, crisp autumn morning?"

"Oh leave her be, King!" Marseille said, although he couldn't hide his amusement.

"I can't help it James, it must be her inviting smile, or the alluring way that her hair stands up like a sexy hedgehog!"

Marseille snorted. "You're an embarrassment Miles, you really are."