Tainted Tokay Read Online Free PDF

time for leisure o r sightseeing.”
    Elisabeth laughed. “Don’t take me for a fool, Claude. We all know that some men refuse their wives what they gladly give their mistresses—and I’m not talking about you, Benjamin. What do you th ink, Consuela?”
    â€œI have nothing to complain about. I am the wife of no man, just the mistress of many. And all my lovers have satisfied me in one w ay or another…”
    Benjamin saw the light go out in Claude’s eyes. Now it was all out in the open. Claude was just the latest in the Latina’s succession of lovers. Although Benjamin was repelled by the thought of going to bed with a woman who had taken dozens of lovers, he could understand that this might make her even more desirable to Claude, a man who needed to prove that h e was the best.
    â€œClaude is my latest faux pas,” she said with a laugh loud enough to m ake heads turn.
    Benjamin looked at his three companions. Consuela was wearing a form-fitting dress that revealed her deliciously tanned shoulders and arms. This woman with emerald-green eyes and sun-kissed skin knew how to draw men to her. But as gorgeous as she was, she was acting like no more than a gypsy fortune-teller—a card reader plotting out her destiny. Benjamin suddenly felt sorry for his friend Claude, who should hav e known better.
    â€œThat calls for Champagne ,” Claude said.
    â€œDom Pérignon,” Consu ela chimed in.
    The server delivered the bottle, uncorked it, and poured four glasses. Benjamin raised his. “To Champagne. Like Coco Chanel, one should drink Champagne on only two occasions: when in love and whe n not in love.”
    Elisabeth bit her lip to su ppress a smile.
    Chuckling, Claude patted Consuela’s knee, and she leaned over and whispered someth ing in his ear.
    Claude answered in Spanish, and the beautiful foreigner laughed even louder. He was staring at the small mol e on her bosom.

9
    B efore heading to the port the next morning, Benjamin insisted that they get up early and have a Viennese breakfast of soft-boiled eggs, rolls, and coffee under the arched ceiling of the Café Central. Claude sent Benjamin a text message at the last minute saying they wouldn’t be able to make it, so the two couples met up at the pier.
    â€œTurbulent, wise and great.” Hungarian writer Attila József’s line in a poem about the Danube came to Benjamin as he waited there with Elisabeth, Claude, and Consuela. The Danube wasn’t quite as grand in Vienna as it w as in Budapest.
    Benjamin lit his robusto while Elisabeth and Consuela fussed with their luggage. Claude was on his phone, settling urgent matters at the publishing house. The race was on for literary prizes, and Claude needed to advance his pawns in order to persuade the jury. It would take some lobbying, as well as a fair amount of circuitous maneuvering. But he ex celled in both.
    Claude pretended to be modest. In fact, he was envied by his colleagues, feared by his associates, hated by some members of the press, and praised by others. He was an integral member of all the inner circles that counted, and every year he pulled off one publishing coup after another.
    Claude was also a voracious reader and an indefatigable worker. He was erudite, refined, and curious about everything. In these respects, he and Benjamin were very similar. Their long-standing friendship was based largely on their shared affinities, which were just as important as the success of the Cooker Guide . The two men celebrated their bonds with glasses of vintage Chasse-Spleen and amber Armagnac, along with Montecristos and Épicure No. 2 cigars. And with unbridled imagination, they philosophized. The cruise on the Danube promised moments of charm a nd tranquility.
    Claude ended his call just as they were boarding the ship. Looking preoccupied, he started to put his arm around Consuela. But she stepped in front of him and sashayed past a group of