Daniel now placed Charles's head inside a wicker basket. He did it very theatrically. Then he bowed. The audience finally got it. They had caught up.

William frowned and lowered his head. "The good part is over. The rest is anticlimax."

Daniel carried the wicker basket back across the entire length of the stage. He walked very slowly. With great care, he then spilled Charles's head out onto a silver platter.

"Just happened to have a platter handy!" William whispered to the couple.

Daniel turned to the audience. "Any of you figure this out yet? No?… Really?… He's dead."

"Liar! No, he's not!" William shouted from his seat. "Your act is dead, but Charles is alive! Unfortunately."

Suddenly, the head on the silver platter moved. Charles's eyes opened. The audience went wild. The illusion was quite stunning and certainly novel enough.

Charles said, "My God, look what you've done, Daniel. All these witnesses saw you. You'll never get away with this, you murderer."

Daniel shrugged. "Oh, but I will. Nobody out there really cares about you, or anyone else for that matter. They don't like you. They don't even like themselves. You deserved this, Charles."

The head on the platter spoke again. "A public beheading? Help me, Daniel."

"What's the magic word, Charles?" asked Daniel.

"Please help me," Charles answered. "Please, Daniel. Help me?"

Daniel carefully placed the basket over Charles's head, then carried it back across the stage and, with broad flourishes and theatrical gestures, reattached Charles's head to his body. Charles then rose up and grasped his partner's hand.

The two magicians stood together and bowed. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are Daniel and Charles, the best magicians in the world!" they shouted to the rafters.

The applause inside the room was loud and sustained. People stood and clapped and cheered. The magicians took several more bows.

"Boo! Boo! They're fakes!" William and Michael hooted from their seats. They saw a couple of hotel security geeks approaching their table.

William leaned toward Andrew Cotton and Dara Grey. "You like magic, theater, adventure?" he asked. "I'm William

Alexander and this is my brother, Michael. Let's go somewhere. Let's get the hell out of here. We'll have some real fun."

The actors rose, and as they were leaving with William and Michael, the security people arrived.

"We want our money back," William said to them. "Daniel and Charles are Jakes."

"Your place or ours?" William asked the actors, keeping the question as nonthreatening as he possibly could. He didn't want to lose Dara and Andrew now. He had plans for them.

"Where are you staying?" Dara asked. She was incredibly sure of herself, a goddess in her own mind, a diva. Yet another one.

William answered, "Michael and I are at Circus Circus."

"We're at the Bellagio. We're camped out in a suite. Let's go there, then. It's fabulous, the best in Vegas. We have drugs," Andrew said. "MDMA. You like?"

"We have lots of fun toys," Dara said, and gently brushed William's blond hair with her fingers. He could have killed her for the affront. Instead, he took her hand and kissed it. She was so full of life, and rich, warm blood.

The suite at the Bellagio was on a high floor and it looked out across a manmade lake with fountains that shot water hundreds of feet into the air. The fountains were choreographed to a song from A Chorus Line. William thought it was an incredible amount of water to be wasting in the desert. He glanced around the room and was surprised that he didn't totally hate it — there were no nylon rugs or acrylic-coated walls, anyway. Bowls of fruit and fresh flowers had been left out in several places. God, he was hungry, famished, but not for grapes and apples.

Dara slid out of her Bob Mackie party dress as soon as she pranced in the door. The young actress's body was tanned and toned. She shrugged off an expensive bra.

Her small breasts were pert, the nipples erect. She kept on her creamy white thong underwear. And her high heels — Jimmy Choos.

William smiled at the actors — their primping, their practiced, shallow attempts at seduction and eroticism. He thought he wouldn't be surprised if a makeup person popped out of a closet, and suddenly wondered what Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston were like together in bed. Probably a beautiful, blond bore.

"Your turn," Dara said teasingly to the brothers. "Let's see what you have. Strut your stuff. Let's all get in the mood."

"You won't be disappointed," William said. He smiled and began to peel off his clothes. He took his time with the thigh-high boots, then slowly unzipped his tight black leather jumpsuit. "You sure you don't want to take this monkey suit off for me?" he asked Dara.

Her eyes were wide. So were Andrew's.

William unbound Michael's ponytail, letting his brother's wavy blond hair flow down onto his shoulders. He kissed Michael's cheek, then his shoulder blade. He began to undress him.

"Oh my, my, my," Dara whispered, "you two arebeautiful."

They were both hard. Michael and William were large, and their penises pulsed and throbbed as they stood there naked. They weren't shy. The brothers were used to nudity since their boyhoods. They were also accustomed to having sex with strangers.

Dara looked around and said, "I feel outnumbered but not overmatched." She took some coke from her purse.

William gently stayed her hand. "You won't need that. Lie down on the bed. Trust me a little. Trust yourself, Dara."

Like a magician, William produced four silk scarves — red, blue, and silver. He tied Dara to the bedposts. She struggled some, pretended to be afraid. They all enjoyed watching her act and Michael put his arm around Andrew, who was getting lost in the shuffle. He was high too. His blue eyes were glazed.

"Why don't you get comfortable," Michael whispered.

"You're among friends."

Andrew slid a pair of handcuffs from a black leather bag on the floor. "These are for you. Just for fun. Okay?"

Michael obediently thrust his hands out, ready to be cuffed "Just for fun," he said, and laughed.

"This is going to be so great," Andrew said, his tongue more than a little thick. "I can feel a rush already. I think I'm starting to peak."

"No, you aren't even close," Michael told him.

It happened so fast that it almost didn't seem possible. Suddenly Michael had locked the handcuffs onto Andrew's wrists. Then he took the actor down on the carpet. He was all over Andrew. He and William gagged him with silk scarves. They moved so fast. They took off Andrew's clothes. They tied his ankles with more scarves.

"Trust us, Andrew. This will be great. You can't imagine," William whispered. Then he watched Michael bite into Andrew's throat. Just a sip. A few delicious drops. An aperitif.

Andrew Cotton's beautiful eyes went wild with fear and confusion. The look was priceless. He knew that he was going to die. Soon, very soon. Maybe in just a couple of minutes.

Dara couldn't see what was happening on the floor. "Hey. What are you men doing down there? Is it dirty? Are you buggering one another? I'm feeling neglected up here. Somebody come to bed with me. Bugger me."

William rose up to her, and his penis was large and beautiful, his stomach impossibly flat, his smile enchanting, irresistible, and he knew it.

"Up popped the devil," he said.

"Kiss me, devil," she whispered, and fluttered her eyelashes. "Make love to me. Forget about old Andrew. And Michael. You're not in love with your own brother, are you?"

"Who wouldn't be?" William asked.

He knelt over her and then he lowered his body very slowly. He closed his arms around her. Suddenly Dara was shaking. She knew, without really knowing. Like so many men and women William had feasted on, she wanted to die without knowing what it was that she wanted. He knew she could see herself reflected in his deep blue eyes. He knew Dara felt she had never looked more desirable.