Earlier in time.
Inside the presidential suite.
Zayed had checked in and enjoyed a relaxing hot bath, draping himself in a soft bathrobe and even indulged in some expensive men's cologne.
He turned on the large LCD TV, watching the humming news absent-mindedly, his thoughts long flown to the upcoming affair.
The exotic dancer named Dali was simply a stunner.
Unlike the voluptuousness of typical Indian women, her figure was tall and slender, with healthy honey-colored skin and deep, alluring features, especially those eyes, which carried a wild and enticing charm on stage.
Just thinking about her powerful dance moves and the hidden fire beneath her indifferent expression made Zayed feel hot all over.
He recalled the nightclub booth earlier, where the nightclub boss flattered him with introductions: "Mr. Zayed, Dali is new here, still a bit fiery, but definitely top of the line..."
He had laughed at that time.
Every real man likes to tame a wild mare.
