Jackal's Dance Read Online Free PDF

concluded that she must be a prick-teaser. Fletch appeared oblivious of her signals and the old man simply frowned with disapproval and moved away. That didn’t stop Angela. She continued to ignore Troy but play up to the other two.
    The more she avoided him, the more he wanted her. He was not used to this treatment and she became the focal point of his sexual fantasies.
    Early morning exercise over, Troy located the Kleenex box, dragged a handful of tissues out and mopped himself up. Looking down at his body, he felt the usual sense of satisfaction. Brown as a berry – he worked on his tan all year round – flat stomach, well muscled, abdominal hair starting justbelow his navel to give the girls an inkling of what lay further south, and a penis which invariably drew admiring stares when Troy showered with the rest of the team after a game of rugby. He was very well endowed and quite used to comments like, ‘Jesus! You must tickle a few backbones with that thing.’ Just over six feet tall, thick black hair, brooding dark eyes, a nose someone once described as cute and a sensuous mouth, Troy’s Greek heritage had certainly handed out its best for him. Girls fell on their backs as soon as he crooked a finger at them. At twenty-two, Troy Trevaskis had been sexually active for eight years, having been initiated by a friend of his mother’s. That experience, and the woman’s obvious reluctance to end the affair, left him confident that he had what it took to please the ladies.
    When he wasn’t thinking about sex, which wasn’t very often, Troy could be lured into performing for the Wits University rugby team, or even concentrating on his studies. His ultimate objective was to become a veterinarian, specialising in wild animals. Friends found it difficult to connect the playboy with his stated ambition and tended to think it was a passing phase. They could not imagine how he could settle for a life in the bush, turning his back on the bright lights where he seemed to thrive. Some accused him of wasting the privileges he’d been born with. To them it seemed that life for Troy was as simple as deciding what he wanted and it would be his. Indeed, it appeared to many that Troy had been born with acomplete canteen of silver cutlery in his mouth.
    He came from a wealthy background and, despite his father’s fondest wishes, had absolutely no interest in joining the family law firm, which Troy always referred to as The Factory. In addition to his looks and bedroom reputation, a number of other girl-getting attractions added to his already formidable arsenal of charms – a flashy sports car, the latest wardrobe, money to throw around, a luxurious penthouse apartment and occasional access to his father’s private plane.
    Troy should have been a spoilt brat and, to some extent, was. He was terribly lazy when it came to chores anywhere, not just at camp. He wasn’t overly fond of hard physical work, unless it gave him a chance to strip down and show off his muscles. He also had an annoying habit of playing practical jokes on people – elephant droppings in Josie’s sleeping bag; a baked bean in Megan’s tea which frightened the shit out of her because she thought she’d swallowed an unidentified bug; an overripe and slushy onion in the toe of one of Fletch’s boots; that sort of thing. Harmless, but in the heat and inconvenience of a field study, damned irritating.
    But there was another side to this young man. Somewhere in Troy’s genetic background lurked a spark of something else. His hands, when touching animals, were as gentle as a lover’s. The family cat, an overweight and decidedly spiteful Burmese that would shred an unsuspecting arm when the whim took it, allowed Troy to drape it over his shouldersand walk around the house with it. It would lay in his lap on its back, all four legs splayed, and permit him to tickle its stomach. Vicious dogs behaved