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l he became pliable； and left with a sense that he owed her a great sexual experience。
It was then that she began a true domination of him： straddling his body and riding him； goading him onwards until their sweat mingled and he was pletely at her mercy。
He cried out as he reached his summit for the third time in two hours； and； as he did so； she made a quick subtle movement with her thighs； flipping him over so that he lay face downwards on the bed。
With soft； soothing words she began to wrap her strong legs around his body； moving slightly so that eventually she held him in a scissors grip； her thighs wrapped around his chest； slowly loosening and tightening her hold in a manner which made him gasp with pleasure until she suddenly began tensing the muscles as though she were attempting to draw his entire body into hers。
He gasped and cried out … Xenia No。 I can't breathe I。 No。。
It was doubtful if she even heard him as she flexed the muscles even tighter。 This was the technique of a boa constrictor and she felt the bones crack in his chest； with half her mind registering the inevitable crunching horror of ribs crumbling。
At the moment of his asphyxiation Xenia Onatopp cried out in her own final and conclusive orgasm … Yes Ahhhhh Yes！ Yes！ 。。。
Yeeeessssss！〃 It was a technique she had used many times during her life； and her masters knew how effective she could be。 A secret weapon like a spider who consumes its mate after the sex act。
She swayed to and fro； still rubbing herself against his corpse； moaning and supremely satisfied in her moment of glory。
She flicked the dead body onto its back； then slowly unwound herself； as though woken from a trance by the soft knock on the stateroom door。
She opened up； unconcerned about her nakedness。
A familiar figure stood in the doorway。 〃The spider and the admiral； huh？〃 the man said as he gently took her in his arms and rocked her as one will lull a child into fort or sleep。
Bond had already taken the small sailing boat along the coastline。
Two days before； when M's representative~ Caroline； had demanded that he should show her his proficiency with the little craft which he had rented together with the tiny villa； right on the shoreline near Cap Ferrat。
In the early hours of that morning； he prepared for another journey： showering first with scalding water and then with an ice cold needle spray。
He towelled himself down roughly； and went through his exercises； the sit…ups and push…ups that were his normal routine first thing in the morning。 The fact that he had been awake all night made no difference for tomorrow was now； and it helped his discipline to act as though he had just risen from a deep and long sleep。 He had； in fact； taken a cat nap lasting for less than an hour。 Over the years he had learned the art of sleeping； even on his feet； for an accurate amount of time： drawing from this a new energy as though he had taken a full eight hours of refreshment。
He shaved and dressed … slacks； a white sea island cotton shirt； soft espadrilles and blazer … in his usual time； then went through the small living room into the tiny kitchen where he carefully cooked his normal breakfast； or near enough his normal breakfast … the best meal of the day； and the most important he always considered。
the coffee was not his much beloved De Bry brewed in an American Chemex； but it was near enough and brewed in an earthenware jug。 He had managed to lay his hands on Cooper's Vintage Marmalade； wholewheat bread for his toast and eggs very similar to the ones from French Marans hens。 Unhappily there was none of the deep yellow Jersey butter； but he found the local variety very much to his taste。
He took his time over the two cups of coffee； the egg boiled for exactly three and one third minutes and his slices of toast
He sat for a full hour after eating。 It was now almost four o'clock in the morning and the day ahead promised some action； though that niggling little worry remained hidden at the back of his head。 He had returned to it time and again during the night； but it remained as elusive as a four…leafed clover。
Before leaving the villa he packed and readied himself for a fast getaway； for he was reasonably certain that； whatever lay in store for him today； M was likely to summon him back to London before long。
Eventually he went down to the short wooden jetty and made ready to cast off。 He wanted his timing to be as accurate as possible for he planned to hide in plain sight among the other yachts and small craft which usually dotted the waters around Monte Carlo from first light。
Joining the pleasure seekers and lotus eaters of the area； he would simply be one small craft among many。
It was after five in the morning when he finally cast off and set a course out to sea； for he wanted to sail in a wide circle； ing inshore only at the last moment。
The trip was uneventful； and； as expected； he found himself in the pany of yachts； sail boats and motor launches by around nine…thirty。
Manticore rode at anchor in the same position as she had done during the previous evening so he circled the long sleek seagoing yacht at a distance； his eyes raking the ship for signs of life。 By nine forty…five he saw the tender being readied on the starboard side … the side nearest the harbour exit to the sea。 He also noted that Manticore had a second small motorboat； in the water； riding off the stern。
Gently he manoeuvred his craft around to the port side； bringing her close in to the yacht which had a line draped over the side amidships； presumably to be ready should the tender or motorboat decide to e inboard on the port side。
He grabbed at the line and took the strain。 It was firmly secured on the deck and strong enough for him to climb with no difficulty； so he tied up his own little sailboat and heaved himself up the curving flank of Manticore； nimbly vaulting over the rail； stopping still and silent the moment his feet touched the deck。
He could hear the sounds of orders being issued； and the grumble of the tender's engines from the starboard side。 Whoever crewed the vessel was well occupied over there so he slipped forward； heading towards the main saloon。
Inside； the saloon was decorated with style and its fittings and furniture were there for fort … a long bar taking up the length of one side； deep leather armchairs scattered around the entire room which stretched the width of the ship。 Paintings of obvious value were set under lights on the walls； and there was a wide passageway running from the saloon forward on the port side。
Silently； Bond moved along the passage until he came to an ornate sliding carved wooden door。 Gently he tried the handle。 The door swung open； and he slipped inside； closing it behind him。 He was in a bedroom given over to sensuality： a mirrored ceiling； erotica on the walls and the scent of death reaching his nostrils before he saw the shattered body on the bed。
The ports were open； but the ining breeze did nothing to disperse the odour he had smelled too