A Trip to St Louis
Sir Vincent arrived at the private airfield attached to San Francisco International Airport in, as he himself would describe it, a cunt of a bad mood. The weather was far too hot for him, and he had a hangover that he couldn't shake. A tequila hangover of all things. He hadn't had a night on the slammers since his university days. And now he remembered why. He clambered out of the back of the town car, closely followed by his personal secretary, Jasmine. She was also one of his favourite...
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