The Linda Lovelace boat was as tacky as you might imagine, multiplied by a hundred. Fur rugs, smoked glass, gold dolphin-shaped taps in the Jacuzzis – it was as if it had been perfectly preserved in a seventies porn time capsule. But the girls … the girls … They pretty much made up for every square inch of tackiness. Within the universally approved parameters of young, slim and gorgeous, the variety was astonishing. Black, white, light brown, dark brown; blonde, brunette, redhead; busty, leggy, short, tall; cute and giggly, sophisticated and sultry; every taste had been catered for here.

And boy, were the guests taking advantage. In every corner, Mark could make out threesomes, foursomes, girl-on-girl action, scenes of bondage and S&M, schoolgirl fantasies. You name it, Stefan had thoughtfully provided it.

But none of it, thought Mark, as he felt his resolve weakening still further, was as downright tug-at-your-bollocks-sexy as Karolina. She’d made a beeline for him as he and Justin had walked onto the boat, still in her white lace dress, her perfect little breasts still tantalizingly visible through the peek-a-boo fabric.

‘Hey, sexy,’ she’d purred, smiling up at him through those absurdly thick black lashes. ‘Come with me for a little … private … party?’

Following her as if in a trance, Mark had found himself in a bedroom equipped with an enormous round waterbed dressed in black satin sheets. He tried to force himself to think of Sam but it was impossible.

Locking the door behind her, Karolina gave him that mocking, mischievous grin again and said, ‘Well, now we are here, what do you think we should do?’

Her voice was heavily accented Eastern European. Czech, probably, Mark thought, though in all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck where she came from.

Karolina turned away from him and bent over the bed, the short lacy skirt riding up to reveal perfect brown buttocks bisected by a virginal-looking white cotton thong. Stifling a groan, Mark took a step forward and put his hands on her hips, but she stood up again and looked over her shoulder, teasing, her streaky light brown hair cascading down her back.

‘Not yet, sexy.’ She took his hand and guided it to one of those amazingly pert breasts. As his fingers brushed her nipple through the white lace, she shuddered.

‘Oh, yesssss, baby …’

It was too much. Mark grabbed the short dress by its hem and yanked it over her head, gasping as he saw her lovely brown body revealed in all its lightly muscled glory. She turned around and laughed at him again, totally secure in her own desirability.

‘No rush. OK?’ She sauntered over to a hideous smoked-glass-and-chrome bedside table and opened up a wrap of coke. Positioning herself to her best advantage against the black satin sheets, legs slightly akimbo, she scattered about a quarter of the wrap’s contents over both perky breasts.

‘You sniff from here, baby? And then, from here?’ And as Mark watched she dipped her fingers first into the rest of the wrap and then, coated in white powder, into her inviting, glistening pussy.