Go talk to Vienna

After one more look in the mirror, Alex takes a deep breath and tries to remember everything he learned in the past few days about Prince K’han. He emulates K’han’s normal facial expression, which is a look of prideful — almost contemptuous — self confidence. He walks from the bathroom with the cocky manner of a young man who has grown accustomed to getting whatever — and whoever — he wants. “Lead with your cock,” one of his MI6 handlers advised him, and that’s exactly what Alex does.

It doesn’t take any instructions from Smithers for him to know which woman is his date. Smithers’ description of her, while lacking in tact, did not exaggerate. Vienna is, indeed, stunning. It takes all of Alex’s training to maintain the facade that he has already seen her. Otherwise, he’s sure he would be gawking at her at this very moment.

He pulls up a chair and smiles at his date. “Did you miss me?” he asks, correctly assuming that K’han would invariably assume everyone’s world revolved around him.

Vienna returns his smile and says, “So as I was saying, if you would agree to this interview, it would really help me, and it would help you, as well.”

Interview? Alex remembers that Vienna is the daughter of a BBC executive, and she is studying journalism. Evidently this date is an opportunity for her to advance her career. Unfortunately for Alex, and interview is the last thing he needs. While he has carefully memorized every detail in the files about K’han and his family, there is much that MI6 does not know about the elusive royal family of Bulario. Being asked probing questions by a journalist — even a journalist-in-training — could risk exposing Alex’s cover.

He decides to stall for time.

“Help me? In what way?”

Vienna smiles sweetly, but Alex can tell she has an agenda. He braces for the answer.

“Well, as you already know, there is a great deal of interest in this country about you. The Boy Billionaire Prince is what they call you. I don’t know if you are familiar with the tabloids in this country, but they are **** — and ruthless — in finding the most private information to share about celebrities. I’ve been given the assignment to write an exposé about you, but all I have is the information that is readily available. Only you can provide the details that will allow me to tell the world about you in the most favorable light possible.”

Alex waves his hand in a gesture of unconcern. “What is that to me? As you said, the world knows much about me already, and they clearly admire me. What more needs to be said?” He picks up his glass and slowly takes a drink of water.

“Well,” says Vienna, slowly running her finger in a circle over the edge of her glass, “what am I to make of these stories that you are a mere 18 years of age and have had sex with some 300 women and that you have fathered at least a dozen children in countries all around the world?”

Alex nearly chokes on his water, and it takes a considerable amount of skill to recover his composure. “300 women!” he thinks to himself. “And a dozen kids?” He quickly does the math in his head. “I don’t know when this guy lost his cherry, but even if he started at 15, that’s an average of two different women EACH WEEK!” He didn’t even want to contemplate the implications of having 12 illegitimate children at his age.

Realizing Vienna has stopped talking and is awaiting a response, he composes himself and tries to sound unconcerned. “As you said, these are stories. How much stock are you going to put in such salacious rumors?”

Vienna says, “More than just stories, I think. I personally talked to over ten women, myself. Eight of them were at the party in your hotel room two nights ago. Each of them independently corroborated enough intimate details about you that they are more than credible. Incidentally, you might be flattered that everyone I talked to was very complimentary about your — shall we say — technique.”

Again, Alex fights to maintain his outward composure as he pictures what that party must have been like. Too late, he realizes he probably shouldn’t try to picture being the center of attention in an orgy, because he quickly feels his pants become too constrictive in the crotch area.

He tries to refocus his attention. “It sounds, Vienna, like you are suggesting ****. I thought better of you than that.”

“Oh, why use such language, Your Highness?” Vienna’s face holds the self-confident smile of a woman who is destined to go far in her field. “I’m just saying that you could add some personal details that might be more interesting to report so I don’t have to dwell so much on your apparent insatiability.”