Washington, D. C., Wednesday…

They continued to walk through the townhouse. She looked happy, even coquettish.

"Vladimir, is this the way all you rich people live? It's weird to see so much luxury that's tangible, not just something on an entertainment center's holo-screen. You know what I mean?"

"This is nothing. The rich spend their money wisely sometimes, foolishly others. The truly rich don't care that much about money. But Hamilton is not rich. He's just comfortable. He could afford this if he wanted it, and he would want it for a mistress like you."

"I wonder if I'll like him."

"You'll probably never meet him. It might be better that you don't."

"Because he could fuck me better than you?"

He smiled. She had the audacity to tease him. He liked that.

"I wouldn't think so. But he might stir up your Catholic guilt."

"Ah, yes, the ex-priest. I have a brother that is a priest. He thinks I'm a starving actor."

"You are a starving actor."

"Not now. This is a well paying gig, when it's all said and done." She stopped at the entrance to the master bedroom. It contained a huge king size bed with the usual furniture. However, one whole end was tiled. The master bedroom and the master bath were one. "Not much privacy here when someone is doing poopers."