Why they believed what they heard no one knew. Perhaps they came looking for a fantasized Mister Right on an idyllic Greek island, or maybe just wanted to hear something, anything, to justify behavior unthinkable back home. No matter, whatever the reason, men sensed it and took advantage. For them it was a fantasy of a different sort, power over another being, something missing in virtually every other aspect of their lives that counted. Unless, of course, you were Vladimir Brusko: for him, no rules applied, nothing was unattainable. His vast Russian-made fortune bought it all, anywhere and anytime he wanted. He came to Mykonos not so much to play, although he surely did, as to validate his choice of lifestyle. Surrounded by so many from so much of the world, struggling so hard to get just a taste of what came to him so easily, was what made his Mykonos holidays a joy. He was a voyeur here, admiring himself endlessly in everyone else’s mirror. At the moment, he was sitting at a tiny cafe table by Vengera, staring at cleavage, listening to a pitch from its possessor.
