The footage was brief. On second viewing, he disregarded the wild poppies dancing with the tall grasses and concentrated on her: dress bunched at her waist and energetically bouncing on a sturdy cock.

He leaned back into the chair’s padded leather. “No sound. Your man was rather distant?”

“Yes, Sir Charles, with a powerful zoom lens.”

“He did well,” he mused, studying the documents in his lap before placing them on the oak desk. Standing, he said,  “Fine, have the papers delivered to the young whore before dinner. And include a copy of the prenup. That should spoil her appetite.”