«Money, power and women are three delicacies that never satisfy».

Noel Clarasó.

"What's up, Darien?" Rick sported a satyr-like grin and spread his arms as if to embrace the crowded room of the elegant nightclub, which smelled of expensive perfumes. "I was right, wasn't I?" He nodded at several women, resembling the periscope of an old warship. "Gorgeous blonde at twelve o'clock. Stunning redhead at four o'clock. Horny brunette in a miniskirt at the port side. I saw them first, I call dibs!"

Darien burst into laughter. Meanwhile, they sat on two bar stools, and his friend ordered two glasses of Jack Daniel's bourbon for the both of them. He had known Richard Varnham—Rick to his friends—since they were classmates in high school.

"You want to monopolize the three hottest ones?" He laughed heartily. "No way! At most, I'll grant you that tonight I'll go with just one, I'll leave the other two to you."

Darien always had fun partying with him. Their personalities complemented each other, which is why they had become inseparable since their school days. The other man's cheerful, enthusiastic, and sparkling character encouraged him to live in the moment. And to distance himself from overthinking some of the poor decisions he had made throughout his life.

The millionaire's tendency to focus on computer programs, mathematics, car racing, and extreme experiences did not prevent him from interacting with countless people, but he behaved like a Roman conqueror and a bad boy. Because he tended to consider them state equations to be formulated and solved until he found the unknown. And, with this technique, he dehumanized them. In short, he was a skeptic. Or, even worse, a hardened cynic.

Rick, on the other hand, worked better with human beings. And, thanks to this ability, he was now the sales director of his multinational firm, maintaining constant contact with major investors and clients. At work, he was the best, only with one weak point: women drove him crazy... Just like Darien. Neither of them had a type; they wanted to sleep with all the beautiful young women they could get their hands on.

"You laugh because you don't even need to try. They throw themselves into your arms and follow you as if you're the Pied Piper of Hamelin." He took a sip of his drink, which tasted of black pepper, spices, and vanilla.

Darien let out a loud laugh and mocked:

"As if you have to try very hard!"

Rick complained, but he was also very attractive. He was over six feet tall, blonde, athletic, and often used his green eyes to attract the attention of his latest conquest, as if he were a puppy begging for affection. This, combined with the charm he exuded, meant that they all ended up in his bed before the first date. Or in the middle of it, either in the pub bathroom or on the seat of his sports car.

"Sure, Darien, look over there!" He feigned a crestfallen gesture and exclaimed, "Goodbye to the brunette! She's staring at you and walking over here. Take a chance, she looks like a go-getter and you're going to have a great time tonight."

"Oh, really?" He studied her sensual curves, the endless legs that the short skirt highlighted and the face with symmetrical, perfect features, where a pair of grayish eyes focused on him as if he were a bullseye to shoot their arrows at. "You're right, she is stunning. Are you sure you don't mind if I go with her, Rick?"

"I still have the other two left. Just don't go near them and don't even turn in their direction or I'll stop talking to you." And he made a gesture with his hand as if he were giving her away. "Let's see if I can convince them and take them both home, they seem like friends."

The woman approaching must have been the same age as the two-party companions—twenty-six years old—, and she advanced towards them as if she were parading at the New York Fashion Week, aware of the interest she aroused. Rick was drooling, and Darien was staring at her like a predator stalking its prey. He sported a cynical smile, as the song "Everybody wants to be famous" played, which the brunette had chosen for her triumphant approach.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the woman asked Darien as she arrived. "Your face looks familiar. I think we've met somewhere else."

Rick made a wry face and answered for him:

"Of course you do, sweetheart; of course you know him! Darien is the majority shareholder of Advanced Programs & Networks Corporation and the creator of the social network Ties, number one now. I'm sure you've seen him thousands of times in the newspapers and on TV. He's single, although I warn you, darling, that if you're hoping to hook him up for something serious, you're only going to get a quick fling," he looked at her with the eyes of a slaughtered lamb. And he added, "My name is Rick, and you can be sure that I, on the other hand, would make you the woman of my life. Think carefully before choosing, sweetie! Him, impossible, or me, very easy and accessible."

The three of them burst out laughing, as it was clear that Richard was cut from the same cloth as his friend.

"What's wrong with a one-night stand?" She barely glanced at Richard before she immediately fixed her gaze on Darien. "It's nothing personal, Rick. I'm attracted to men with brown hair and honey-colored eyes, like your companion." And she asked Darien, "Are you from here, from Malibu? My name is Susan."

"Nice to meet you, Susan. I'm Darien Ferrars. And yes, I live in Malibu."

He paused and shook her hand without explaining that he lived in Santa Barbara, and that he was Australian. From her attitude, he feared she might be a stalker, one of those who passed themselves off as a liberal woman but in the end behaved like a jealous girlfriend or crazy groupie. This thought was not due to his usual skepticism, but rather because he had met a few of that kind. He took advantage of the moment, while he was scrutinizing her and delighting in the green dots on her blue irises, to sensually caress her palm and her fingers. The young woman's fragrance—a mix of jasmine and tuberose—excited him, as did the softness of her touch.

After a few minutes of contemplative reflection, Darien continued:

"Tonight, you're the only one I'm attracted to, you're beautiful... What would you like to drink? I'll buy you a drink."

"Thank you, Darien," she whispered in his ear, brushed his face and playfully bit her lower lip; then she ordered from the server, "A Cinque Stelle, please."

"I'll leave you guys. Have a lot of fun and do everything I would!" Rick patted his friend on the shoulder and kissed the young woman on the cheek. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Susan. From the other end of the bar, the gorgeous blonde is calling out to me." He raised his glass to the woman who was watching him and walked towards her.

"Tell me, what do you do?" Darien asked her, as if his friend's interruption had never happened.

He wasn't too interested in the answer, words were unnecessary for what he had in mind to do in the next few hours. But it seemed fair to him, as he was a public figure, and the woman knew everything about him... Well, almost everything. The mystery surrounding his refusal to go out with a woman for the second time was the most hermetic of secrets, even for Richard. That was why he had left his homeland to live in the United States.

"I'm studying for a Master's degree in Public Policy and Education at Stanford University," Susan told him proudly.

"The moment I saw you, I could tell that you're not just a pretty face and a beautiful body." Darien reached out to grab her hand again.

"Do you say that because it's obvious that I know what I want?" She made a flirtatious pout and drilled him with her gaze. "To be honest, there is no doubt that I want you tonight."

"Well, you certainly are clear with your goals." He moved in closer to touch her cheek with her lips, as if he wanted to steal her soul.

"It only took a few glances at the men here to know that you are the only one who piques my interest." She tilted her head to the right and kissed him on the mouth.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. They seemed like two squirrels fighting over a hazelnut. Their tongues competed, rubbed against each other and savored each other as they deepened the contact.

The scent of jasmine emanating from the woman intensified and Darien felt the need to possess her in the middle of the room. He was surprised that they hadn't activated the fire alarm because only water would lower their temperature. The attraction was irresistible, although he knew that as soon as he slept with her, he would forget her in a second and move on to the next conquest. There were so many stunning women in California! Most of them were aspiring Hollywood actresses. And they were all served to him on a silver platter.

"Tell me, Susan." He breathed heavily and moved back a few inches to observe her as he spoke. "What do you think if we go somewhere that we can be alone?"

"Does my house sound like a good option?" The young woman leaned her body against his as much as the disco bar stool allowed. "I live nearby, in Point Dume State Beach."

"Then let's head over there fast." Darien stood up and grabbed her arm while he gently bit her earlobe. "I want you right now, you're stunning!"

Until now, Susan had only seen him seated, so when he stood up next to her, she could admire his broad back, which culminated in a well-proportioned and very masculine waist. His thighs were strong—like those of an athlete—and against the zipper, the bulging evidence of his desire was noticeable.

Darien thought it wouldn't be long before the young woman dragged him away. And, in her ignorance, she would consider herself lucky to have met him. "If she only knew who I really am, she would run in the opposite direction!", he reflected, hating when intrusive thoughts came to mind... Because the only certain thing was that Susan would do well to flee.

His intrusive conscience tried to ruin his night of sex, but he managed to block it with the best argument: his secret was safe, no one suspected him. He told himself that Susan was in no danger at all. She was a worldly woman, liberal and without complexes. If she had been an innocent woman, then he would have been in a lot of trouble just for approaching her.

They left the club and walked quickly to Darien's vehicle. He didn't wait for the valet to bring it to him.

"Is this yours?!" He behaved like an old-fashioned gentleman when he opened the door of the Lamborghini, which had cost him a whopping four and a half million dollars.

"Yes, it's mine," Darien replied simply and helped her get inside. "I'm glad you like it."

"Please, put the pedal to the metal!" She rolled down the window and let the warm, sea-scented breeze play with her long, black hair.

Darien skidded out of the parking lot. And he didn't even put the accelerator on full throttle like she'd begged him to! Three hundred fifty-five kilometers per hour would be too much to drive through hills and after drinking alcohol. He did accelerate the Lamborghini just enough to impress her as he zigzagged through the winding road, which were as curvy as those of a beautiful woman.

The engine purred—like a tiger before sinking its claws into its defenseless victims—as Susan gave him directions with little cries of happiness. And, shortly after, he parked at the entrance of a charming two-story house from which the beach was visible. Around it, there were no other buildings nearby.

The young woman hurriedly got out. Once out of the aerodynamic sports car—which minutes before had embraced her with the warmth of a passionate lover—she wrapped her arms around Darien's waist and kissed him as if there were no tomorrow. He immediately responded to her advances, though ironically, he thought that it was the Lamborghini that excited her more than he did. Obviously, he had no intention of competing with his car, but rather to use it to achieve his goal, as he was frantic with the need to satisfy his appetite right then and there.

Eagerly, he turned her around and bit her neck. He ran his tongue over the area and delighted in the woman's softness. He slowly inhaled the scent of tuberose and jasmine. It clouded his brain and drove him to possess her with strong thrusts. So, he pinned her against the hood of the Italian car, which perfectly matched the feminine clothing. And he enjoyed watching how her ample breasts rested on the warm surface and seemed to spill over it. The metal pushed them up, and he could see the pink areolas protruding from the fabric. They called him to put his lips and tongue there until they combusted... He would do so later; now, he had other urgencies.

Thanks to the porch light—which reached them in soft waves and caressed them—he indulged in these erotic images while he lifted her miniskirt and rubbed her buttocks. He became aroused as he contemplated her sexy, black, lace-trimmed thong.

"You're beautiful!" Darien bent down and nibbled on it.

"Please don't take so long! Fuck me right now!" She writhed against his body like a dying snake.

"Stay still!" He gave her a small slap, which excited her even more.

He then took his time in pulling down her underwear. He brushed her skin with the fabric and caressed her at the same time with his fingers.

"Are you sure you want me now, princess?" His voice was a mocking whisper because the question was unnecessary; she was very wet, and her lips opened for him like the petals of a rose when it ceases being a bud.

"Now, Darien, yes, please, now!" Susan whimpered.

The heat also urged him on. But he resisted and bent down again and ran his tongue over her. He stopped at the tender spot to drive her crazy and make her never forget him. He tasted her without pause, with intermittent touches that left her breathless. And every so often, he blew softly, and she shuddered, sighed and was very close to climaxing. She melted on the hood, as if she were having a threesome with the sports car and him.

He liked to leave an indelible mark and to have them yearn for his attention, although he never repeated it with the same one twice. He considered himself a collector of scents and touches, never forgetting any detail and making them his own forever. He catalogued them in his mind, like the electronic files of a library with books.

"I'm begging you!" Susan reached behind her and tried to unzip his pants, but she couldn't.

In response, Darien stepped back a little. He studied her as if he were a sculptor before his creation. And he immortalized the sensual image in his memory. He unzipped his zipper and freed his member. He took a condom from his front pocket, opened it and put it on. He plunged into the wet female heat and felt how it adapted to his thickness. Then he moved with gentle thrusts, which in seconds tuned into vigorous thrusts.

After the first orgasm, they spent hours locked in Susan's bedroom and had sex in every imaginable way. At eight in the morning—satiated—he said goodbye to her and lied to her when he promised that he would call her soon.

He left the house and got into the Lamborghini. The woman waved goodbye to him from the bedroom window, but he pretended not to see her. He accelerated to maximum power and ground the gravel on the road. Soon he left the place without even looking back in the rearview mirror. He wanted to get back to Santa Barbara quickly and continue his duties after this brief interruption.

He heard a WhatsApp message coming in. He looked away from the road to see if it was something important related to Silicon Valley: it wasn't from his company's staff, it was from Susan.

"What a pain!" he muttered, annoyed. "Why did I give her my number?"

His curiosity was piqued when he noticed that, along with a video, it said:

So that you don't miss me until we see each other again.

Intrigued, he didn't stop the car and clicked on the link. He discovered that she had used a tripod to film up close. She was naked and her hair was as disheveled as he had just left it. She got into the shower, turned on the water and caressed her breasts. Meanwhile, a couple of drops splashed on the screen. Then she brought her breasts together and they looked like large peaches. Young and soft, they begged to be rubbed, pinched and sucked. Her perfect body shone as if it had been sprayed with oil and highlighted her tan.

He remembered that the soap she used smelled of jasmine. And it gave him an erection to remember how much it stimulated him to smell it. He felt the need to sniff it again in every little nook of her silhouette. When Susan's hand moved down and headed towards her pubis, he told himself that, perhaps, this time he could repeat and taste the essence again. A one-time thing, perhaps in a luxury hotel. The woman aroused the desire to exchange fluids with her again; there was no denying that she had spark and audacity.

Then, through the mobile phone, she showed him her middle finger. She licked it and moved it down to Venus's mound to place it in her...

But a horn reminded him of what he had forgotten: that he was driving his car. He looked up immediately and forgot about the phone. The white van turned its high beams on and off, as Darien invaded the opposite lane and was about to crash into it.

He reacted instinctively and swerved to the right. He was going so fast that he skidded and knocked over the sign that indicated the place, Point Dume State Beach.

And, worst of all, he also knocked over the woman who at that moment was waiting, leaning on the pole that held the sign.