I couldn’t wait any longer; I straightened my back and allowed him to penetrate my engorged sex. I moaned as he entered me, inching further and further as I sat down.
He grabbed my hips and held me down, and I could feel him deep inside, throbbing. He was bigger than I thought he would be and it felt good as he continued to swell.
He started working me up and down with his hands and I had to try to catch my breath as we continued. He became more ravenous with each thrust pounding deeper and deeper. I lost my mind in the sexual music we made.
I lifted myself off and turned around so that I could kiss him and as I did I lowered myself back onto him. I hugged around his neck and he continued to work me up and down along his shaft. I oozed my wetness down to the rich leather of the chair and he didn’t seem to mind.
I could feel myself giving over to the ecstasy of the moment and felt the familiar tickle of an orgasm beginning to crest. And, it felt like he wasn’t far behind.
I arched my back and he had to hold me as I clenched my muscles for the orgasm that kept wracking my body. I could feel him pumping his fluid deep inside me and I accepted it readily.
It was then that I noticed the flight crew peeking out of the cabin and with a bashful smile I threw the radio remote at them.
****
It took a while before we finally managed to pry ourselves off one another. I had to lock the cabin door shut so they’d stop their attempts to sneak a peek.
After we had landed, there was a limousine waiting for us that I had arranged prior to liftoff. He wore his pressed suit and I wore my wonderful new dress I had purchased earlier. Unfortunately, I hadn’t brought a change of underwear which didn’t really bother me as much as I thought it would.
We drove through the narrow streets of Paris, and I took in the sights. The Eifel Tower’s million lights twinkled like starts. I imagined being here but not like this. I imagined coming here as a successful businesswoman, running my own company and not as an escort.
I couldn’t drive the thought out of my head. Had he hired me with this as his end goal? Or had this just been an incidental byproduct of working in such close proximity to a womanizer?
The car pulled up to a small restaurant that overlooked a fountained courtyard. The scene was picturesque and soulful at the same time. Inside the restaurant was a simple scene almost as though it hadn’t been changed for more than a hundred years.
The night flowed on and our conversation was light and fun. I hadn’t really spent time getting to know Tom that well until now. I had always seen him as my boss and that suited me just fine.
I still felt unsettled and I needed to address it.
“Tom, this experience is something I’ve never had. But I still wonder if I’m just becoming another woman that you throw away when you’re finished.”
He played with the cork from the wine and leaned back in his seat. “Why would I throw you away?”
“I’m supposed to be your personal assistant. There are supposed to be boundaries between us, and it feels like we’re tearing them down needlessly.”
“Are you trying to say that you want to go back to being boss and assistant? I don’t know if I can do that,” he replied.
“I’m saying I want more. The last month has inspired me, Tom. I’ve seen you making million dollar deals before breakfast and coming home with more conquests at night.
“I don’t want to be the prize you un-wrap. I want to be the equal that you make deals with. Give me some time to build up my resume and my capital so I can see you as an equal before considering the possibility of continuing this.”
I could feel my heart pang as the words came from my mouth. I really did want to be something more than an assistant in his eyes and needed him to know that. And I certainly did not wish to be just another one of his conquests. I had to make him prove himself.
“Alright, we’ll go back to being boss and assistant again. The best things in life are worth waiting for.”
He raised his glass and I mine, and we toasted the agreement.
****
On Monday, I went back to work as though nothing happened. Tom had changed. His passion towards work overtook him and his nightlife faded considerably.
A few months passed and he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. He seemed to distance himself from many of the women that had thrown themselves at him in the past as if a part of him died. I felt sorry for him.
He started spending a lot of time with his brother’s family. Before our trip to Paris, he barely would see him once a year but now it seemed to be once a week. Tom would show me photos of him giving new toys to his brother’s children and how happy they were.
In those few months I had learned something else.
I was pregnant.
I had a strong feeling it was his and I didn’t want to burden him further with the responsibility of being a parent.
“Tom,” I said one day after a meeting, “I think it’s time I move on. I’ve been working towards a few projects of my own with the money you’ve helped me raise and I think I have some good prospects.”
He flashed me his smile again, and I was struck by how sad his eyes looked. He embraced me, and my feelings were swept away. I kept myself straight faced, which was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
“Don’t make me wait.” Was all he said.
I pushed myself away, knowing that, if I stayed any longer, I would become a mess.
“I’ll have my things packed and be out of the house before day’s end. Thank you again, Mr. Ellis.” I said.
I turned and left, leaving him standing there sullenly.
As I exited, I wondered if I’d gone too far, if there was something else I could’ve done to know if he wanted me for my business savvy or my looks. But, I couldn’t decipher anything at the moment.
At the mansion, I began to pack everything I had, which I realized was not much. Then I heard a knock on the door.
“Hey, Nia.” It was Brent. “I know we don’t talk much, but can we have a chat?”
I cracked the door and let him wander in.
“This place is way better than the shack I’m living in. You must be one smart cookie,” he said admiring my living space.
“Did you come here to talk or to admire the scenery?” I asked rudely.
“Whoa, calm down,” he said while stepping back toward the door. “I just have one thing to say so I’ll say it. You got Mr. Ellis twisted up good. I never seen him like this in the last ten years I been workin’ for him.”
“Are you referring to how he doesn’t seem to sleep around as much?” I asked.
“No, I’m referring to how he keeps askin’ me what you’re up to. He wants to know if you’re seein’ anybody or if you are feeling taken care of.”
“He asks about me when I’m not around?”
“He does. I never seen him like that for anyone.”
I finished packing my bag and zipped it closed. I took a moment to take in all the sights from this palatial bedroom and let out a deep sigh.
“Let’s go, Brent,” I said.
I made for the door, but Brent wouldn’t let me carry my own bags. Like a gentleman he took the bags and followed me down the front stairs.
I had him take me to a hotel downtown for the evening and scheduled time with a real estate agent while on the way. My excessive funds from working with Mr. Ellis had continued to grow over the past few months into a small fortune.
I said my final farewells to Brent and entered the lobby. It was completely empty save for the one attendant at the front desk waiting patiently for business.
He looked at me, smiled, and handed me a room key. I found it rather odd as I hadn’t called ahead.
“Is this for me?” I asked.
“Of course it is,” he replied. “Room 1506. The elevator is around the corner.” Another on hand attendant swooped in to relieve me of my luggage and led me to the elevator.
We zoomed up to the 15th floor, and my curiosity swelled. I inserted my keycard into the door and swung it open.
Mr. Ellis was sitting on the bed, waiting patiently.
“How did you-“
“I work downtown, it’s only three blocks from headquarters,” Tom said.
“Mr. Elli-“
“My name is Tom. I told you months ago, Nia.”
He sat me down on the bed and stood over me.
“I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen,” he began. “The last several months I’ve been meeting more with my brother and his family and you know what I learned? Don’t answer that, I still want you to listen. I learned what makes him tick; I learned why he wakes up every morning and goes to his dead-end job upstate; I learned that it’s not easy to be in love.”
He was pacing back and forth as he talked, and I smiled as he continued on.
“That’s right, Love. Love is what gets him out of the house in the morning so he can go work a dead-end job to provide for his family. I saw him get in fights with the person he loves; only to watch them kiss and forget it ever seemed to happen. It was like some kind of magic was happening in his household.
“I watched them play with their kids and how amazing it is to see someone grow up. I watched them roll their eyes and the millionth diaper they’d had to change, knowing that they’d have to do the same thing an hour later; only to give that baby a kiss on the cheek.
“Love and compassion are two things I’ve been trying to spread around the city, and, yet, I haven’t ever been able to find those things in my own life. These last few months I think I’ve started to find it, and would you like to know where it started? Guess.” Tom paused. “No, don’t answer that either. I started finding it the moment I caught you downstairs that night. I continued to find it in the airplane the next day, and I know I found it when I saw you exit that airplane wearing that black dress.”
I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks as he continued to talk.
“I want you in my life; I need you in my life. I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing this because I think you want me in your life as well.
“Nia, I love you. And, if you’ll have me, I want to start a family.”
I stood there shocked to hear all of it. All I could do is nod and smile as he leaned in for a kiss. I stopped him before he could, though.
“I need you in my life, too. But, I have a couple things I need to say first.”
Tom sat down in a chair nearby and listened.
“As it turns out, starting a family will be easier than you think.”
He thought about it for a moment, and then I could see his eyes start to beam. “You’re-“
“Yep,” I nodded. “And the second thing is: I only want to start a family as long as I can continue pursuing my own career as well. I want to be your equal and not your damsel.”
Tom nodded happily. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I gave him a loving embrace and kissed him all over his face.
We walked from the hotel arm in arm. Our future started that day and it never looked brighter.
*****
THE END
The Billionaire’s Secret Love Child – Brianne’s Story
A BWWM Billionaire Pregnancy Romance
1
Danielle Harper wasn’t sure she had heard the man correctly, so she leaned forward. It was, after all, pretty noisy in the club. She lived in Vegas and made some money on the weekends working as a waitress. She was tall and slender, her skin and hair dark. The most important thing was that she looked good in heels and a skirt. Her long legs got her a lot of tips, and perky cleavage got her even more.
The club was called The Event, which Danielle thought was a stupid name, but it was popular and busy on the weekends, and Danielle needed every bit of help with her student loan debt that she could. She had a year of school left, and already the prospect of the debt felt crushing and suffocating.
It was early in the evening, before the large crowds came in, but she had been serving a couple of the small round tables that dotted the outside of the dance floor in the dark club. At one table was a man and three of his friends. He was handsome. A young caucasian man with a strong jaw that made him look a bit like a superhero. His hair was blonde and buzzed. None of his friends made the same impact that he had on her. She had been with one white man before, a one night stand. The way the young man had kept looking at her, she was wondering if she was on her way to another.
But then it looked as though he and his friends were moving on, and they gathered their things and paid their tab and walked out the door. The good looking one lingered, though, and he caught Danielle’s eye and waved her over.
“Yeah?” Danielle asked as she went to speak with him by the front door.
“What’s your name?”
Danielle tapped a manicured nail against the small plastic nametag she wore to the left of her chocolate colored cleavage. “Danielle.”
“I saw that, but don’t most women in Vegas have fake names? What’s your real name?”
Danielle laughed. “Where are you from?”
“Hidden Hills,” the man said. “It’s near Los Angeles.”
“Well I don’t know who is feeding info to Hidden Hills, but Danielle is my real name.”
“All right, Danielle. Well, I think you should marry me.”
That was the part she had thought she hadn’t understood. She leaned forward and shook her head. “Excuse me?”
“I think we should get married. You are absolutely stunning.”
“I’m not going to marry you.”
The man laughed. “Why not?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
The man held his hand out. “Ray,” he said. She shook it. His hand was strong, but not rough.
“Okay, Ray. Well, my answer is no.”
“Hey, I really need to run right now, but I think we should talk more about it. What time do you get off?”
“One.”
“In the morning?”
“Yeah.”
Ray whistled through his front teeth. “Rough gig,” he said.
Danielle laughed. “It’s alright.”
“Well, listen. I have a penthouse in the… well shit, I don’t remember the name. But we’ll be drinking like crazy and generally raising Hell. I can have someone pick you up and bring you over, and we can get to know each other.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll send someone, and come if you want. Alright?”
Danielle didn’t know what he meant about sending someone, but she just nodded. “Okay then,” she said, and Ray smiled and then turned and left.
Danielle wasn’t sure what was going on, but, somehow, she felt an attraction for Ray. He was obviously nice to look at. Taller than she was and wide in a muscular way, with broad shoulders. He had been dressed in expensive clothes, but she had spent most of her time around him imaging what he looked like without a shirt on. Maybe going over to his penthouse in some hotel was the perfect opportunity to find if her fantasy shirtless Ray lived up to the real thing.
As her night wore on, and the club became packed, she couldn't push her strange conversation with Ray from her mind. One in the morning rolled around quickly, and she clocked out and headed outside. The club would be open for a few more hours, so she stepped quickly through the entrance and through a sea of people trying to get in. Her car was parked along the side of the building, and she reached for her keys. She had a paper due on Monday, and she didn’t know a single thing about Ray or any of his friends. She didn’t make it a habit to go to strange hotel rooms with men she didn’t know, and she had decided she wasn’t about to now.
And then she saw the stretch limo parked along the side of the building, boldly blocking the traffic that was trying to stream in from the well lit road which ran through the famous Vegas strip. The driver was ignoring the honks and the curse words being thrown at him, and he was holding a piece of paper with Danielle’s name on it.
She had never ridden in a limo before, and thoughts of strange men and papers due vanished. She would take her shot. She smiled at the driver as she neared, and tapped her finger on her name tag.
“Looking for me?” she asked, and then older man nodded.
“Looks like it, Miss,” he said, and he pulled the door open for her.
Danielle half expected Ray to be waiting for her in the limo, but he wasn’t and she felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. There was a bouquet of flowers inside, and a couple of bottles of wine and a glass, so she poured herself some as the car started moving.
Danielle had been raised in New Orleans, about as far from a life which would afford her rides in stretch limousines as she could get. It had just been her and her mom, and her mom had always struggled to keep them in houses, and food on the table.
Danielle had seen education as a way out and had grades that were good enough for her to have offers from six schools. She had ended up at Ryeman College, twenty minutes outside of Vegas.
Vegas was a town built for the wealthy, and Danielle had only ever seen the edges. But riding in a limo, looking through the dimmed windows as the strip passed by, a glass of wine in her hand, it was about as much fun as she had ever had. She only wished she had someone to share it with.
It turned out Ray was staying at Wynn Las Vegas, one of the nicer hotels and casinos on the strip. The driver took her to a side entrance, where a bellhop met her. He was obviously younger than her twenty-one, but only by a few years. He had traces of acne, and he looked her over without shame as she climbed out of the limo.
“Mr. Ferris left this for you,” the boy said, holding a keycard to her. “Slide it into the slot in the elevator and it will take you to the top floor.”
“Thanks,” Danielle said, reaching down to pull the hem of her skirt a little lower while the little creep glanced at her legs again. She went inside and found herself in a nondescript hallway with concrete walls. It obviously wasn’t meant to be seen by the guests. She wondered just how Ray Ferris managed everything. He had sent a stretch limo for her, a bell hop was waiting around for her to come by, and he had a top floor penthouse that needed a special elevator key. It all sounded like something out of a James Bond movie, if James Bond had a billion dollars instead of just millions.
There was a small elevator at the end of the hall, and the doors opened quickly when she pressed the button on the wall. Inside it took Danielle a moment to find the small slot where she could slide the keycard into the wall, but when she did the doors closed, and the elevator car started upward.
It seemed like a lifetime, or, at least, five minutes, though Danielle was sure it was much shorter, but finally, the elevator stopped, and there was a soft chime before the door slid open. Danielle tried not to gape. The door opened directly into the penthouse suite. Music was blaring, and people were dancing. A lot of people. Young and good looking, more women than men. None of the women were wearing much clothing, some were just shaking their hips in their panties, their breasts swinging freely. It made Danielle uncomfortable, but she found the whole thing strangely alluring as well. She had never been much of a party girl. She was always focused on school.
The men at the party, in fairness, were just as underdressed as the women. Everyone looked sweaty. She saw more than a few couples making out, and a few groups of people grinding and kissing and rubbing.
“Danielle!” a voice called, just as she was trying to figure out if she should leave or get off the elevator. It was Ray. He wore swim trunks and nothing else, but seeing him smile made her step forward, off of the elevator. The doors shut behind her.
“Swimming?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow and nodding her head to his wet swim shorts. As far as she knew, even the penthouse suite didn’t come with its own pool.
“I’ll show you,” Ray said, and he took her hand and led her through the throng of people dancing in the living room. As she made her way further into the suite Danielle saw that the music was coming from a DJ, an attractive blonde woman with hardly any meat on her bones that she swore she recognized from TV.
“Is that…?” Danielle started, and Ray cut her off with a grin and a nod.
“It is. Her dad and my dad are friends. Come up in the business together,” he said.
“What business?”
“Film. My dad is a producer.”
“Wow,” Danielle said. It was all she could think to say.
Ray led her into one of the bedrooms, where a group of people were grabbing water balloons from four giant plastic tubs and throwing them at one another. From the smell, Danielle wasn’t so sure they were filled with water.
“Vodka,” Ray said with another grin which made the young black woman weak in the knees.
“Looks fun,” Danielle said.
“It is,” Ray said, and then a balloon came sailing by, and it broke on Danielle’s shirt. It soaked through the thin white material, giving everyone a good look at the lacey red bra she wore underneath. Ray looked her over, and she found it didn’t annoy her the way it had when it was the bellhop doing it.
“Want to play?” Ray asked, nodding his head to one tub.
“Maybe later.”
“Want a drink?”
“Now you’re talking,” Danielle said with a laugh, and Ray took her hand and led her out of the bedroom. There was a whole room off of the living room which had been given over to a bar of sorts. Three bartenders who worked for the hotel were there, mixing drinks and slinging beers. Danielle found herself suddenly self-conscious as she looked them over. They looked like she did. Servers. Servants. Pouring drinks while rich people played.
“What can I get you?” Ray asked her, making his way to the bar and pulling her along.
“Any beer,” she said to the bartender, a young blonde girl. She nodded and set a frothy bottle on the bartop. “Thanks,” Danielle said, taking the beer and sipping.
“I think you’re gorgeous, and I’d really like ot have sex with you,” Ray said, and Danielle almost spit her beer out.
2
Ray was more forward than any man Danielle had ever met, and she had met some forward men. Ray was a millionaire, or maybe a billionaire. And he had just told her he wanted to have sex with her. They were surrounded by a hundred people; all jam packed into the most expensive hotel room Danielle had ever seen. It all felt like a dream. A dream someone else was having. Danielle hardly recognized her own voice when she spoke.
“Okay,” she said.
Ray grinned again. His teeth were white and perfect, like a movie stars. He took her by the hand again and led her out of the bar room. He led her to a closed door, and then pushed through it. Danielle found herself in a bedroom that was empty, besides the two of them. No one was throwing water balloons filled with vodka, and the music wasn’t as loud after Ray shut the door and locked it behind them.
Danielle had never been one to have sex with strangers, except for that single one night stand. She figured it had to be something about white boys as Ray put his hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips to him. She felt his tongue, like velvet against hers. His fingers gripped her rounded hips, but he didn’t hurt her.
The room was dark, the only light coming from a fat silver moon which hung high over Las Vegas. The windows were open so the moonlight could come in, and below them, there were flashes of lights, red and blues and yellows, a thousand signs in front of a thousand hotels and casinos and little places to get a shotgun wedding.
Ray wasn’t wasting time. He gripped the underside of Danielle’s vodka soaked shirt and tugged it up. She looked for somewhere to put her beer, but there was nowhere. Ray took it from her and tossed it to the floor where the dark amber colored liquid chugged from the bottle, staining the carpet.
When her shirt was off, Ray had a hold of it, and he tossed it to the floor as well. They kissed again, their lips and tongues like one instead of two. His hands explored her torso, strong and soft together across her flat stomach, and up over her ribs.
He found her breasts, still clad in the red bra. Fingers slid under the cups, brushed against nipples which hardened instantly. She reached behind herself and undid the clasp, and then the bra was off, joining the beer and her shirt on the floor. He bent his head, and his lips went to her nipples. He nipped at her sensitive rosebuds, licked at them with the tip of his tongue.
Danielle moaned. Her arms went around him, one on the back of his bare torso, the other to his hair as he sucked on her tit. His hand was at the other, gripping her, groping her. Her nipple was hard and rubbing against his palm. Danielle felt herself yearning for him, a passionate heat growing between her legs.
“Bed,” she moaned, and his lips pulled from her breasts. He nodded, and then they were kissing again as he stepped forward and she back pedaled, and they fell upon a large, soft bed. She spread her legs, forcing her skirt to hike up towards her hips. Ray positioned himself between her, arching his back, so his crotch rubbed against hers, his rigid member evident beneath his liquor-soaked swim trunks against her wet slit, hidden beneath the silky material of her panties.
Danielle wasn’t thinking straight, she knew that, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t anything like those women out in the living room, dancing with their breasts out, letting men rub all over her, but there she was, about to fuck a man she didn’t even know, and she knew it was exactly what she wanted.
Danielle had been with big men before, in terms of penis size. The one white guy she had slept with had the smallest dick, and she had always assumed it was true what they said about black guys and white guys. But Ray put that notion to rest, in the dark bedroom, when she reached down and slid her hand past the waistband of his trunks. His cock was hard and pulsing. And it was huge. Bigger and thicker than any cock she had ever touched. She wrapped her slender fingers around it, jerking him back and forth as his lips found hers once more. He tasted like vodka, and it made her head spin.
Then the man was pulling away, and it made her hand slip off of his erect member. He knelt at the end of the bed, and came forward again, sliding downwards. He planted a kiss on her hip and went downwards until he reached her skirt. He gripped it in his strong hands and pulled it down, and she lifted her ass off of the bed to help the process along. Ray tossed her skirt over his shoulder, and it left Danielle nude except for her panties, which were red and mostly see through.
Ray went back to his kissing, his lips trailing down over her panties, and onto the sensitive black skin of her inner thighs. She was wet, soaked, her desire for the man more intense than any desire she had ever felt.
“I’m going to make you come,” Ray whispered to her in the dark. From outside the room, there was the dull thumping of the music, a remembrance that there was a party going on. Beyond that, it felt to Danielle as though she and the rich man were the only people on Earth.
With one hand Ray held the crotch of her panties aside. With the other he ran a finger up her slit, stopping to rub on her engorged clitoris. Danielle groaned, throwing her head back.
Those red see through panties were quickly pulled off and deposited on the floor with all of her other clothes, and then a new sensation replaced Ray’s finger on her pussy. He was licking her, the tip of his wet tongue sliding up and down her slit, probing. He spent time working on her clit, flicking it back and forth with his tongue while he slid a finger into her pussy, and then two.
She had never wanted a man more, wanted his cock inside of her, but she didn’t want him to stop either. He made true on his promise, he said he was going to make her come, and Ray did just that.
It took hardly any time, and if Danielle could have felt anything but an explosion of intense pleasure emanating from her pussy and spreading through her body, causing her toes to curl as he used his tongue to make her come, she would have been a bit embarrassed. It had been a little bit since her last boyfriend, and she hadn’t fucked anyone since then.
She shook with orgasm, her hands going to the back of his head, trying to find hair long enough to grip onto but failing. She almost doubled over, as the wave of pleasure rolled through her core, and for a moment, she didn’t think it would abate. Finally, it did, and Ray was grinning up to her from between her legs.
“You on the pill?” he asked, and Danielle nodded. She was, even though her sex life was about as dead as the dinosaurs. “Good,” the man said, and he stood at the foot of the bed and pulled his swim trunks down. He stepped out of them, climbing back onto the bed. He moved upwards, kissing up her stomach, and then stopping for a moment to suck on one brown nipple. He moved on, his lips moving up her neck, to her lips. She spread her legs to him, still wet, still yearning for him even as she fought to regain control of her breathing. She reached down, took his throbbing dick in hand, and guided him inside of her.
He was large, and for a moment Danielle was worried it would be uncomfortable, but he pushed deep inside her, and then pulled out, and after a few more thrusts it was fine, and the discomfort was gone, replaced by nothing but pure bliss.
Ray was gentle, but he was in control. She reached up for his face, but it took her hand by the wrist and pushed it away, holding her down as he grinned and dipped his head so he could nip softly at her nipple.
His pace grew quicker, but as it seemed as though he was nearing completion he stopped and pulled suddenly out of her.
“Turn over,” he commanded, and Danielle did so.
“Are you used to getting what you want?” the black woman breathed, and she heard the man laugh as she lifted herself up on her elbows and knees.
His strong hands found her round ass, squeezing onto her cheeks almost painfully. The bulbous head of his cock pushed against her wet slit, and then he shoved his hips forward, and he was inside her once more.
He pulled one hand away from her ass, and then sent it down swiftly, slapping onto her skin and causing her to yell out. He slapped her ass again, and then he was grunting, gripping her by the hips and pulling her roughly backwards as he shoved forward and came. His cock jumped in her tight snatch, and his semen filled her pussy.
He collapsed on top of her, panting. Their bodies were covered in a light sheen of sweat. He kissed her, and then pulled his still hard cock out of her and rolled over to lie next to her.
“That was amazing,” he said.
Danielle grinned.“I agree.”
He looked to her and laughed. Then the laugh faded and he propped himself up on his elbow.
“So about marrying me,” he said.
3
Danielle had almost forgotten about Ray asking her to marry him. But here he was, doing it again.
“I don’t know you,” she said.
“You know me better now,” Ray cracked. She couldn’t help but laugh, and she glanced down to see his cock, shining with her juices, throbbing in the pale light from the moon. He was in between hard and normal, and it still looked absolutely massive.
“I do know you better. But you’re not really being serious, are you?”
Ray sighed, and he nodded his head. “Look, I’m going to lay it all out there. My father and I don’t get along. I didn’t go to college, it pissed him off. I’m not too interested in taking over the family business, it pissed him off.”
Danielle wondered how someone took over the family business when the business was investing money into films, but she didn’t say anything, and Ray went on. “Long story short, is he thinks I need to do something with my life. I’ve never had a serious girlfriend, and this is what he’s digging into. He wants me to get married. He thinks if I marry, it will make me figure out what else I want out of life.”
“So you want to marry me?” Danielle asked, confused?
“To put it bluntly, my father is old-fashioned. That’s a polite way of saying if I marry a black woman, he’ll lose his mind.”
Danielle couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She sat up, and then quickly got out of the bed. “What’s a polite way to tell you to fuck off?” she asked, bending and grabbing her panties and pulling them on.
“I’ll pay you a million dollars. Marry me. Six months. We can get divorced after, and I’ll give you a million dollars. I don’t want to be married, but if it keeps my father from cutting me off, I can work with it. In six months, that’s long enough to seem like I made an effort, and I can go back to partying, and you can come back here, a million dollars richer. You go to school?”
Danielle nodded. She put her bra back on, and then looked to the man.
“It’s expensive, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“So take a million dollars. Live with me for half a year. It will be like a vacation. Take a semester off, then come back and do your thing, with a little bit of money.”
“A million dollars isn’t a little bit of money,” Danielle said.
“Think about it,” Ray said. “But don’t take too long. Vegas is the perfect place to tie the knot, don’t you think?
4
Two days after Ray had fucked Danielle, she was standing inside a small white chapel, and a man dressed like Elvis was reading vows. She had struggled to come to a decision, but ultimately the money wasn’t something she could pass up, and she knew Ray was good for it.
It only took ten minutes, and then she was married. Mrs. Danielle Ferris. One of Ray’s friends was there to witness it, but when they left he got in his own car and drove off, and Danielle climbed into the passenger seat of Ray’s car. It was as black as tar and freshly shined, and the young rich white man made the engine roar as they raced back to his hotel. The penthouse suite was empty and clean, and they sat on the couch awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say.
“I could write you the check now,” Ray said. “If you promise to stay for six months. You can put it in the bank later today, grow some interest on it.”
“Alright,” Danielle said. Speaking of their arrangement made her feel strange, and almost a little dirty. It didn’t seem right, but she wasn’t in a position to turn down a million dollars. Ray got up and wrote her a check, and then she slid it into her purse. She was wearing a white sundress, thin and short. He wore a button-up shirt and a tie, both purple. He looked quite handsome, and Danielle found herself thinking about the sweaty and exhilarating sex they had two nights before.
“Do you want a drink?” Ray asked, and she laughed.
“God yes,” she said.
He poured her one, and then made one for himself, and they sat together again.
“I should get to know you,” Ray said.
“Okay,” Danielle said.
“Then let’s play a game,” he said. “I’ll ask you a question, and if it’s to personal for you to answer truthfully, you have to remove an article of clothing. I’ll do the same.”
“That’s not fair, I only have the dress and panties on,” Danielle laughed.
“Hey, those sandals count too. That’s two more things.”
“Alright then.”
“I’ll go first,” Ray said. “Do you have any siblings?”
Danielle shook her head. “Nope.”
“Okay, you ask.”
“Ever had your heart broken?”
“Yes. Have you ever had a threesome?”
Danielle laughed. “No.” She looked to Ray. “Who broke your heart?”
He grinned after a moment, and then took his tie off. The game wore on, and after an hour she was naked, sitting on the couch. She hadn’t answered a question about her father, nor one about a friend of hers who had died, and then she was barefoot. Ray asked another question about her dad, and she lost the dress. He was in nothing but his underwear, a bulge evident at his crotch when he asked her his last question. “Does it annoy you that you want me to fuck you again?”
Danielle had smiled seductively at the man and slid out of her panties. He took her on the couch.
5
Within a couple of days of her sudden and abrupt wedding, Danielle had pulled out of school for at least a semester and had quit her weekend job. She had packed up her meager collection of belongings from her dorm and then shoved the couple of boxes into his tiny black sports car and rode with him to California.
It was awkward being around Ray, and he seemed to feel it too. The whole thing was insane, and Danielle wasn’t quite sure she had even registered it yet. It was some abstract thing that was happening, marrying a man, moving in with him, all for a million dollars, and all to make his father angry.
That part still made her mad, and she wasn’t looking forward to meeting Ray’s father. If he would have a problem with his son marrying a black woman, he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted to know.
It was a drive that took almost four hours, and Ray and Danielle didn’t speak much. When they reached Ray’s neighborhood, she had fun gawking at all of the mansions, but nothing could prepare her for her new husband’s home.
He had to stop in front of a gate just off of a quiet street with a lot of privacy hedges and fences. He leaned out through the window and typed in a code on a small pad that sat on an iron pole next to the driveway. When he was done, there was a mechanical squeal, and the gate swung inward, and he drove through.
The gate closed behind them, and the driveway turned to the right. The house was hidden from view by a grove of sorts made up of palm trees, but when they turned again it was revealed, and Danielle felt her mouth fall open in shock. She would be living there for six months, and it was the most amazing house she had ever seen.
The home was huge, three stories and as long as the white house, or, at least, it seemed that way to Danielle. It was a cream color, with darker columns in the front and a short but wide set of stairs which led to the double front doors. Ray pulled the car in front of the home and grinned over to her.
“Welcome home,” he said.
He carried her boxes in, piling them atop one another in his arms, and then he gave her a tour.
There were more rooms than she could keep track of, but she was particularly taken by the backyard, a large chunk of which was given over to an infinity pool, where one side seemed as though it was missing, and a small waterfall fell over that, pooling ten feet down the side of the hill on which the house sat.
“I’ve got to go swimming,” she said, and Ray laughed.
“By all means,” he said, and she hurried to change into her swimsuit.
The first day was spent in the pool, and they even had dinner out there, Ray grilling steaks by the pool while she watched him from the water.
Danielle had conflicting thoughts on the man. The sex had been wonderful, both times, and he was friendly and seemed to really be into her. On the other hand, he had paid her a million dollars to marry him for half a year, so he could make his apparently racist dad angry. She didn’t know how to describe that in any other way than gross.
The next day was one that Danielle was dreading. Ray was going to take her over to his parents home and drop the bombshell news of their marriage to them. She had promised she would never speak to anyone about his proposition, and she intended to keep that promise.
Ray’s parents lived just ten minutes away, in a house which was somehow bigger than his own home was. Danielle had learned that Ray usually had a few friends who lived with him off and on, an entourage of sorts, but he had made it clear to them that he was a married man now, and he and his new wife would need the whole home to themselves. The young woman wondered if it was possible that they would ever need that many rooms for themselves, and found herself wondering the same thing as she stepped into Ray’s parent’s home. She was sure they must rent out fifty or so rooms, that it made no sense for them to live there alone, but she knew that they did. Although, as she stepped inside after her new husband did, she was greeted by a maid, and she had a moment to wonder if the help lived in the house. She realized she didn’t know anything about how the wealthiest people in America lived, and she had a million questions.
Ray and Danielle made their way into a massive living room and sat on a couch. The maid had told Ray that his father was wrapping up a business call, and his mother was out at a tennis lesson. The fact that Ray’s father had his maid greet his own son made Danielle feel bad for Ray. It was as if he was treating him like some sort of employee instead of a son, but if Ray felt bad he was careful not to show it on his face. He smiled when Danielle caught his eye, and he reached over and took her hand.
“Nervous?” he asked, and Danielle nodded. There was no point in lying.
It took ten minutes before Ray’s dad arrived. He was shorter than his son and had a bit of a gut. His hair was gray but thick, and he wore trendy glasses with a small frame.
“Who is this?” he said after shaking his son's hand. Danielle thought of her mother since her father had died before she was born. They always hugged, whether Danielle was gone for months at school, or half an hour down at the grocery store. Ray and his father didn’t have that sort of relationship; that much would have been clear to anyone.
“This is Danielle,” Ray said, and his father shook her hand. If he disliked black people, he didn’t show it in his face, and his smile was warm as he shook her hand. And then Ray went on. “My wife.”
Ray’s father pulled his hand away from Danielle’s and spun on his son.
“This is my father, David Ferris,” Ray went on, as though he hadn’t anticipated David’s reaction.
“Your wife?” David asked. “Are you out of your mind?”
“You seemed to want that for me,” Ray asked, laying it on thick. They were near Hollywood after all, so his acting was more than appropriate.
“May I speak to you in the other room please?”
“Which one dad?” Ray said with a grin, raising his hands. They had plenty to pick from. David didn’t find his son’s antics funny, and he turned and stalked out of the living room. “I’ll be right back honey,” Ray said to Danielle, before following his father out.
Danielle stood awkwardly near the couch. She wasn’t sure where Ray and his father had gone, but she could hear them though their words were muffled and not clear. Still she heard David say the words black, kidding me, and use your brain, with a lot of other angry words in between. Ray was either silent or speaking in a normal tone because she couldn’t make out any of his words.
After ten minutes, Ray returned and smiled. “Okay, that’s done. Dinner is cancelled, I’m afraid. We can go out tonight if you want.”
Danielle nodded and then waited until they were in Ray’s car and heading down the long driveway before she asked what she wanted to.
“What did he say?”
“He told me you were after my money. Well, his money I guess.”
“He’s not concerned that I’m black?”
Ray laughed. “He brought it up, but surprisingly he wasn’t as racist as I thought he would be about it.”
Danielle laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Somehow the absolute absurdity of her situation presented itself, suddenly, like a tiger springing onto an unsuspecting deer from the forest brush.
“What’s so funny?” Ray asked as he pulled onto the road.
“Everything,” Danielle said. And then the rich man began to laugh too.
That evening they went to a restaurant so expensive that they didn’t even bother putting the prices on the menus. If you had to ask how much anything there cost, you couldn’t afford it. Over dinner, Ray was very open, and Danielle took advantage of it. He discussed his childhood, growing up in that lifestyle, with the wealth, but a busy father who had little time for him. He discussed his future, and how he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, and how he didn’t feel great about living off of his father’s wealth, but that the shame of doing so wasn’t enough to make him stop.
“So isn’t he going to cut you off?” Danielle asked as she sipped a wine that was older than anything she owned, a true classic vintage with an intense but pleasurable taste.
“No. He told me I had to get married, I had to start living a life that wasn’t just partying, and that’s what I’m doing. I told him I loved you. I’ll be upset in six months when it all falls apart, and maybe he’ll turn into a human being and feel bad for me, and I can get a few more years off of him.”
Danielle was surprised to hear her husband speak so bluntly. He seemed very self-aware, and he seemed sad inside, but he hid it behind his lavish lifestyle.
“So you have to want to do something,” Danielle pressed.
Ray sighed. “I have one thing,” he said.
“What?”
“I want to write.”
“Write? Poetry? Movies?”
“A novel. But my dad… I don’t know… he just throws money at creative people. He doesn’t respect them, he doesn’t think I have that in me. Writers are just people he forces to write a script the way he thinks it will sell. I have this idea… it’s a book, a real novel with complex… well, everything. But it’s stupid.”
Danielle reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Ray’s. “It’s not stupid,” she said with a smile.
“You’re the best wife I’ve ever had,” Ray joked, and they both laughed.
6
Two months passed, and Danielle was further exposed to a world she could barely comprehend. Ray had a personal chef who he could call up and have over at a moments notice, and once a week a crew of women came through and cleaned the massive house. He had more cars than she had pairs of shoes, which had been her one weakness throughout her life, even if being a broke college student meant she didn’t buy as many as she wanted.
They did nothing, and it was exactly what Danielle had needed, after years of intense study at school. She lounged in the pool, she lounged in the massive home theater watching movies with Ray, and she lounged in bed late at night after they had sex. They never made love, not those first two months. It was always fucking, and they did it often. Danielle was glad she was on birth control because it meant the rich young white man could take her whenever he wanted. And he wanted to a lot.
She would be brushing her teeth in the morning, and he would step out of the shower with a raging hard on, and without a word he was behind her, pressing his cock against her ass cheeks, clad in just her panties. She would turn to kiss him, but he would force her down to her knees, and with frothy toothpaste at the corner of her mouth she would blow him, until he came, spraying thick strands of cum across her face. Then with his semen drying across her nose and chin she would perch her ass on the edge of the sink, and he knelt down, repaying the oral favor.
Or she would be in the pool, and then he was there, sliding inside of her in the cool water. Or he was bending her over the foot of the bed, or she was riding him in the back of one of his cars, or a million other positions.
Through all of this, Danielle began to fall for the man. He was caring. Sweet. Hurt. She saw how growing up with his father had affected Ray. It afforded him an amazing lifestyle, but he was missing something, some affection he had needed his whole life. Over two months Ray and Danielle only saw his father once, but his mother came a few times, visiting at Ray’s house each time.
One night they lay in bed, talking as a fat silver moon rose above the mansion, sitting like a bright bulb in the middle of the black sky, with a million pinpricks of light surrounding it. They both had been sleeping nude, and they were lying next to one another under a thin silk sheet. Danielle reached over and ran her fingertip along Ray’s abs. He looked to her and smiled in the darkness.
“I love you,” he said suddenly, and it took Danielle by surprise.
“I love you too,” she said, without thought. They kissed. Up to that point their kisses had been full of passion, hot and heavy, but there under the sheet, in the moonlight, it was different. Slow. Sweet. Full of passion that was tempered by love.
Their tongues danced together. Her hand slid up and down his abdomen, her fingertips brushing his skin. He rolled onto his side and took her into his arms. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hardening against his skin. She felt his cock grown hard and press against her hip. They rolled over together, and he was pressing against her as they kissed. He ran a hand through her black hair, which she kept straight. She sent a hand down his back, to his ass, where she squeezed and dug her nail playfully into his behind. He grinned against her mouth and reached down, sliding a finger along her slit between her legs, wanting to get her ready, but she already was, her warm juices coating his finger. He slid inside her.
For the first time, they made love. It was sweet and sensual and slow. For an hour they rocked slowly together, his cock sliding in and out of her, his lips on her breasts, her neck. Her nails trailed lazily down his back, her legs wrapped around his hips. Another hour passed, and every time he seemed as though he was going to come he slowed down, or stopped completely, his cock hard and throbbing in her tight pussy. The urge to climax would pass, and he would start thrusting at a glacial pace again.
Meanwhile, Danielle was in ecstasy. She came in the first half hour, moaning in a husky voice as the walls of her pussy clamped onto his dick, and the orgasm tore through her core. And then he was going again, and within twenty minutes she had come again.
By the time he came, over two hours since they started, she had experienced five orgasms. It was the most amazing love making she had ever been a part of. When Ray released he groaned and grunted, moving his lips to her collarbone and biting there as his cock jumped inside of her and hot cum spurted from the tip to fill her snatch.
He kissed her as he lay there panting. They rolled over, but Danielle kept her leg over his body, and his cock remained inside her. They fell asleep like that.
7
Two more months passed, and Danielle had never experienced such happiness. She and Ray still fucked often. He would tell her to suck his cock while he lie in bed, and the would hold her head and choke her with his massive member, so tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t breathe until he blew his wad, the sticky mass sliding right down her throat. He would furiously pump her on the couch in the living room, or bent over one of the stools in the kitchen.
But they also made love. Tender kisses, light touches. They were in love, Danielle had no doubt about it.
Then the young black woman missed her period. She had always been pretty regular, and going three days past when she expected filled her with dread. She had been taking her birth control, hadn’t missed a pill.
When Ray was out one morning, she took one of his cars and bought a test at a nearby upscale grocery store. In one of her temporary home’s bathrooms, she peed on the little white plastic stick, and sat on the toilet, waiting for it to register. It did, and she cried. She was pregnant.
She knew what Ray would say. There were only two months until their marriage was supposed to be over. But he had said he loved her, and she knew she loved him. Would he want to get divorced? He would think she had stopped taking her birth control pills. He would think she wanted to get pregnant, so he was stuck with her. What was a million dollars when this could be her life? Or at the very least, when he still divorced her, he would have to pay child support. She knew that’s what Ray would think, or, at least, that’s what his father would tell him to think, and then it would be in his head.
She knew she couldn’t put off telling him. When he returned home, just before lunch, she broke the news to him. She had sat him down in the living room, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth he had stood up.
“You said you couldn’t get pregnant,” Ray said, his eyes wide.
“I didn’t say that I said I was on birth control.”
“So you lied?”
“No!”
“So you quit taking the pills?”
“No!” Danielle said. She felt hot salty tears stinging her eyes.
“Don’t you start crying!” Ray said forcefully. He sounded angrier than she had seen him.
“Ray, I love you.”
“You love my money,” the man said, confirming Danielle’s worst fears.
“No!” the black girl argued. It was all she could say.
“You want my money! You think this is the way to get it? I thought you loved me! I loved you!”
“I do!”
“You love this life! This money! My money!” Ray argued.
“It’s not your money!” Danielle said before she could stop herself. “It’s daddy’s money, and I don’t give a shit about any of it!”
“Fuck you,” Ray said coldly, and then he turned and left the room. Danielle ran after him. She begged him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen. He walked out of the massive front door, and she stood there, watching as he climbed into one of his sports cars, and then he was gone. Danielle fell to the ground in a heap, and cried.
When she could, the young woman called a cab and packed up some clothes. Ray had bought her many things over the four months, mostly clothes and shoes, and she was careful not to take any of it. By the time she had a small bag the cab was outside of the gate at the end of the long driveway, and she walked down to meet it.
She had the million dollars in her bank. She hadn’t touched it yet, she hadn’t needed to. Now she did, using it to pay for the cab and a hotel room. She didn’t want to go back to Las Vegas. She needed Ray to know that she loved him. Days passed. They turned to weeks, and then a month. She tried to call him, tried to text him, but he would never speak with her.
She went to an upscale stationery store and bought a beautiful leather bound writing journal, and a set of silver pens. She had the woman at the counter wrap them for her, and then she went to Ray’s home. He wasn’t there, so she went to his parent’s house. His sports car was parked outside. Someone let her past the gate, and she parked next to it, driving a rental car. She sat for a moment behind the wheel, writing a check for the money he had paid her to marry him, or, at least, most of it. She didn’t have the money to pay back the hotel or rental car.
Danielle climbed out of the car and went to the front door, knocking softly. Ray opened it.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want to talk.”
“Our lawyer will talk when the baby comes,” he said and went to shut the door. She held her hand out.
“I don’t want money from you,” she said.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” another voice said, and then Danielle saw David, Ray's father, come to the door.
“Dad, I can handle this. She’s not the first woman to come after my money.”
“Here’s a check for what you paid me to marry you,” Danielle said, and by the look on David’s face, she knew that news was a surprise to him.
“What’s she talking about?” David asked, and when it looked as though Ray wasn’t going to fill his father in, Danielle did so.
“He wanted to make you mad, so he married me in Vegas after paying me a million dollars. He didn’t think you’d want him marrying a black girl.”
David said nothing. Usually, people didn’t want to talk about their racism. Ray remained silent as Daniel held the check out to him.
“I don’t want it,” she said. “I want you. I fell in love with you.”
Ray opened his mouth to speak, but then he shut it.
“Get this gold digger out of here,” David said from over his son’s shoulder. “Or I can get security to do so.”
“Give me a minute,” Ray said, and he stepped out and reached back, shutting the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Danielle said. “I didn’t want to get pregnant; I didn’t trick you. I don’t want your money.”
“The pill doesn’t mess up. You can’t get pregnant on it.”
“You can, it’s just rare,” Danielle said. “Trust me, you can.”
She felt tears in her eyes once more, and she felt like an idiot. One slipped over her bottom eyelid and slipped down her mocha cheek, but Ray reached out and wiped it away.
“I bought you this,” Danielle said, holding the gift out to him. He opened it and smiled when he looked to her his own eyes were misty. “You can’t give up on your dream,” she said. “You have to write that novel.”
Ray nodded. He couldn’t speak.
“I want to tell you about my father,” Danielle said. Ray looked to her. She had never opened up about her dad. She went on. “He died before I was born. That’s why I don’t talk about him. I don’t know him. He was with the wrong people. He was killed, shot by a guy he had some sort of beef with. It sounds dumb. Exactly what your father must think about black people, but that’s who my dad was. A thug who was killed. That’s all I know him as. I didn’t get to learn about the man my mother fell in love with. I don’t want my own child to do that. You aren’t dead, but I don’t want this baby to grow up without knowing their father. It has nothing to do with money; I want him or her to know you. You. An amazing man, with love, and passion, and a writer. I want this baby to know you. A writer. A father. Someone who does amazing things with his life. That’s what I want for the baby, and for you. It has nothing to do with me or the money. We could live in a one-bedroom apartment.”
Ray laughed. “We might have to. My dad is going to have a fit when I tell him.”
“When you tell him what?”
“That I’m going to be a dad. That I’m going to be with you. Telling me about your father… I know that this was just…. an accident, but you know, thinking about it, maybe it’s exactly what we need. I love you, Danielle. I do. And if I weren't already married to you, I would want to marry you.”
Danielle grinned and threw her arms around her husband. They kissed, and she knew they would be together forever.
*****
THE END
The Billionaire’s Secret Love Child – Rae’s Story
1
Rae Coleman couldn’t believe her luck as she walked onto the movie set. She had been waiting years for this, ever since her mother had agreed to move to Los Angeles when Rae was sixteen so she could try to get into commercials. She was a pretty girl, then at sixteen, and now at twenty-four, and she had gotten the commercials. Her skin was the dark brown color of mocha, her hair brown and kept short. Her legs stretched on for miles, and her hips were pronounced and feminine, without being large. She was pretty, beautiful even. But that’s not all you needed to make it in Hollywood.
For one thing, she was black, and there just never seemed to be as many roles for her as there were for her white peers. Rae had lost count how many times she had lost out on a role for being “too urban.” She had never been urban, having been born and raised in an affluent Cincinnati suburb. Often at her schools, she was one of only a few black kids.
But she kept landing commercials, and at age eighteen managed to get in a pilot, which tested poorly and never got picked up. Back to commercials she went. Her mother had gone back to Cincinnati when Rae turned nineteen, but the young girl wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. She got a little apartment with another struggling actress, an Australian girl named Gillian, and she kept grinding, filling in the time between commercials with waitressing jobs.
And then last year she landed the role of a lifetime. A movie. A true blue, play across the world movie.
And not only was Casey Denning producing it, but he was also going to star in it.
Casey was one of the most popular actors in the world. He had gotten his start as a young man in a couple of horror films, but he quickly transcended them and got the roles his talent deserved. He was forty-two now, and he was on the cover of magazines more than he was on the silver screen. Every stay at home mom loved to read about him, and needed to know who he was sleeping with, and what car he was driving, and where he ate.
Casey was Caucasian and had salt and pepper hair, and a dimple in his broad chin. His eyes were cold and gray but expressive, and his smile could light up a room. He had been in the room when Rae had auditioned for the movie, and it made her nerves even worse than they had already been.
He had spoken to her, sitting there with two others at a long table. A woman producer and a man. The man was directing the film. He was older than Casey, with red hair that was thinning. Rae had smiled to each of them, but her eyes kept going back to Casey.
“You’re Rae?” he asked, looking down at a sheet with her information on it.
“Yes sir,” she said, and Casey had laughed, an easy laugh that was full of warmth.
“Sir? I like that!” he had said. “Unless you’re calling me that because I’m old.”
Rae felt her cheeks burn, and she shook her head. “No, not at all!” she stuttered. Casey held a hand up and smiled at her.
“I’m only messing with you,” he said. “Can you go through page twenty-one with me?”
Rae nodded and lipped through the thick script she was holding. The film was a drama called When Love Speaks, and it was about an older married man who had an affair with his secretary, even as his son battled cancer at home. The man felt great guilt about the affair, but the stress of his son’s sickness had created a rift between he and his wife, and he found solace in the arms of the beautiful secretary. Rae was trying out for the role of the secretary. She had been in the waiting room with seven other girls, one of which she recognized from a number of films. There was no way she was going to get the part.
When it was done, she had felt good about her reading. She had been to a hundred auditions, and some of them she knew she would get it, and some she knew she had messed it up, but this one, she felt she had done well, but she wasn’t sure what would happen.
Her agent called her the next day and told her she had the part. There had been a script read through, and costume fittings, everything working in that whirlwind Hollywood way. A script could languish for years, but when the ball got rolling, you had better stay out of the way.
She had seen Casey again at the reading of course, and he had hugged her and congratulated her. She had met her other co-stars, including Amelia Stevens, a well-known actress who was playing the wife. She had been just as kind as Casey.
There were a number of people on the set, but not as many as Rae expected. It was her first day, and they were shooting a scene from the middle of the film, a sex scene on the office set. It was the second to last day of shooting at the set. Not many people realized they shot films out of order, depending on what sets or locations they had, and for how long. Every scene set in the office would be shot in a block of days, and then after that they would move to the next location or set. Rae wasn’t introduced in the office though, she was introduced while Casey’s character was on a business trip with her. They almost make love at their hotel, but he refrains. So though Rae was in the film for three scenes before the first sex scene, she had the unfortunate duty to film the sex scene first.
It was unfortunate because it was the scene Rae dreaded filming the most. The idea of kissing Casey was pleasant enough, but doing it in front of twenty people scared her to her core. Not to mention the fact that he would be ripping off the tight blouse she had been fitted for, and groping her breast through her bra, and then pushing her backward onto his characters desk and climbing atop her. There would be a close up of his hand on her bare thigh, pushing her skirt up, and then the scene would be over, the rest of the juicy details left to the audience's imagination.
The red haired director was named David Greene, and he had worked on a number of films which most people knew and loved. He made his way to Rae as soon as he saw her, stopping to point to something on the set while he told someone to move it. When he stopped in front of her he held his hand out, and she shook it.
“Great to see you again, Rae,” he said with a smile.
“You too, Mr. Greene,” she said.
“It’s David!” he said, and then laughed. “Hey, I have a closed set today. I know this is your first big thing, and it’s a bit of a doozy, I know that. If I could have started with another scene I would have. But the guys tell me we have to go on this, then we have to.”
Rae smiled and nodded. David had a Brooklyn accent, and he was animated when he spoke.
“So we can go through it once or twice, with minimal contact, just to get the blocking down.”
“We can go however you like,” Rae said. “Contact is fine.”
She felt a bit more comfortable when he told her it was a closed set. That meant the only people there were people who had to be there. No extraneous crew, just someone holding the boom mic, a cameraman or two, David, and makeup and costume people. Of course Casey would be there as well.
He stood by the desk on the set, his eyes closed and white earbuds in his ears. Rae made her way up to the desk, and started her breathing exercises. She had just closed her eyes when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw the impossibly handsome movie star smiling at her.
“What a way to get to know each other, huh?” he asked, and Rae laughed.
“I guess you could say that,” she said.
“I don’t want to be forward, but I learned something on one of my first films, and I thought it might help you,” Casey said.
“Okay, let me hear it,” the pretty young woman said.
“When you have to kiss someone in a scene, you shouldn’t be kissing them for the first time. I know we’re going to a bit of rehearsal, but David likes to be sneaky and have a camera running. Sometimes he uses the first take.”
Rae nodded. “Well, that makes sense, I guess, to be comfortable with someone. Familiarity.”
“So, we should kiss,” Casey said, making sure she understood. “For the role.”
“For the role,” Rae said, and then the man was dipping his head and stepping closer to her. One of his hands went down to her hips, and the other reached up, his fingers resting lightly along her jawline. She closed her eyes inhaled deeply as their lips met. He smelt of expensive cologne, and he tasted of mint. He had just brushed his teeth, as she had as well. She wondered if he was as nervous as she was.
The kiss was light, but it was long. Finally he pulled away, and she opened her eyes. For some reason she had expected him to have turned away, to be busying himself with something else, simply trying to prepare for the scene, but he was looking right at her.
“Wow,” he said.
“Wow,” Rae agreed.
“Alright you two, ready?” David called, and Rae jumped. For a moment she had somehow forgotten where she was, even though there were three bright lights directed at her. They dimmed now, and the set was filled with blue, a pretty good approximation of moonlight coming in through the large window of the office, with the fake city background behind it. Rae knew it would look exactly like they were in a high rise office building on film, but it was a little bit ridiculous to be standing on a set in a large warehouse with girders running across the ceiling.
“Sure,” Casey called, and Rae turned to find her spot. She could be knocking on the open door, and they had a bit of dialogue before she entered and they began to kiss. A cameraman was set up just outside the set, and another with a camera on his shoulder entered the set and stood a bit behind Casey.
A young woman came up with a clapboard and held it in front of the main camera. “Scene seventeen, take one,” she said, and clapped the board together.
“Sound. Rolling. Action,” David said.
Rae knocked on the door, and they began. David stopped them three times before they got to the part where they kissed, but on the fourth they must have given him what he wanted, because he let it continue. She stepped in. Casey said his last line, and she replied with hers, and then they were kissing again.
This kiss was deeper than the one they had shared before they started. Their tongues met, something that rarely happened in film, but here it felt natural, and Rae welcomed it. He tasted of mint as well, toothpaste and floss. Casey’s hands were strong upon her, and he ripped open her shirt, and then his hand was groping her, and she felt her nipple harden against the material of her bra and his palm. He pushed her slightly backwards and went with her, still kissing her. His hand went on her thigh, pushed her skirt up. They still kissed. Somewhere someone was saying something, but Rae was lost in a world of ecstasy.
Finally, Casey broke the kiss and got up off of her and the desk. “Woah,” he said to her as he offered her his hand. Rae took it and stood. “Sorry about that.”
“I called cut about fifteen times,” David said, and Rae looked to him. He was sitting next to a small bank of monitors, where he could watch what the cameras saw.
“That’s my fault,” Casey said.
“Do yourself a favor Rae, don’t be pulled into this guys world of tabloids,” David said with a laugh. Rae knew what he was referring to, Casey never seemed to settle on a lady for long, and each new one was splashed across the pages of Us Weekly alongside him.
“Hey, there’s fancy yachts and trips around the world that come with that tabloid stuff,” Casey said to the young woman with a grin and a wink. She smiled.
“I’m sold then,” Rae said.
“I give up,” David said with a laugh. “Let’s go again from the top.”
The scene wore on for some time, and when David finally called cut for the last time, Rae was tired and anxious to get out of her uncomfortable heels. Casey had one more scene to shoot on the set, a short transition, but she was done for the day. A black sedan drove her back to the hotel the cast and crew were staying at. They were shooting in Toronto, a popular city for such things, and Rae had never been there, so she was anxious to see the city, but all she wanted to do right then was take a hot bath, and climb into bed.
Her room was large but not luxurious, and as she filled the tub with steaming hot water she found herself wondering what kind of room Casey was getting, or even Amelia’s room. They were both stars, surely they had whole floors to themselves.
Still, the room was nicer than anything she could afford herself, and she even had a little plastic card which would bill any room service to the film company. She had gone from a commercial every few months to the big times, and she couldn’t be happier.
She undressed and sank into the water, and it was so relaxing she closed her eyes and laid back. She found herself thinking about Casey, thinking about the way he had kissed her. She felt a longing inside her, settled between her legs, and she reached down there, sliding her fingers along her slit, the pad of her index finding her clit, and she kept her eyes closed and her mind on Casey and his lips on hers as she brought herself to orgasm.
Afterward, she got out of the hot tub and dried off before pulling on the thick terry cloth robe that lay hanging on the back of her door. She went out into the living area of the room and thought about ordering some dinner when there was a knock on her door. She wondered who it could be as she tied the robe’s sash around her waist and went to answer it.
Rae opened the door and was surprised to see Casey standing there.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
“I have to kiss you again,” the older man said, and then he was stepping inside, and doing just that.
2
Rae didn’t resist. Casey pushed his lips to hers and she let him. He still tasted of his mint toothpaste, but now there was something else there. Something fruity, like wine. His pressed against her pursed lips, and she parted them, and his tongue felt like velvet as it danced along with hers. He pushed her back inside her room, and the door swung shut and closed on its own. Casey kissed her once more deeply and then pulled away.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
Rae didn’t answer him, she just slid her arms around him and pulled him close, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss him again. He pressed his body against hers, and she could feel his hard cock pushed against the bottom of her stomach. She had just masturbated in the bath, but here the man himself was, and she felt the warmth growing in her loins, ready for the real thing.
“The bed,” she moaned against his mouth, and then she was pulling him there. He didn’t resist, and when the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, she turned and pushed him down. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and she didn’t waste time. She climbed half on top of him and pushed his shirt up. She kissed his stomach as she undid the button on his pants, and then unzipped the fly. She looked up to him, and he was propped up on his knees, looking down at her.
“Have you ever had a black woman suck your cock?” she asked, and the movie star shook his head. Rae grinned, and reached in through his fly and then the flap of his boxers to pull his throbbing member out. It was large, not the biggest she had been with, but absolutely the thickest. Of course even his cock looked good, Casey had to be the luckiest guy in the universe. Good looking movie star with a good looking dick.
As he watched, Rae lowered her head and teased him, the tip of her tongue licking along the tip of his cock. She tasted his precum, her tongue running over a fat drop of the translucent liquid that had squeezed out of his penis. Then she ran her tongue down the shaft, the sensitive underside, and the got some joy out of the way Casey moaned and squirmed beneath her. She stopped then, sitting back on her haunches and undoing the belt at her waist. She then opened her robe and slid it off her shoulders, and she let the man look her over. She had big tits, with big brown nipples that jut out in the heat of the moment. Her pussy was shaved, save for a small strip leading down to the slit between her legs.
Casey started to sit up, reached for her, but she shoved him back.
“Let me take care of you,” she said, and then laughed. “I’m sure you're used to that.”
Casey didn’t say anything, he just lay back and watched as she bent again, this time taking his shaft into her mouth. He lips felt like heaven, or the closest Casey would ever get as she slid them up and down his cock. She went down until the head of his member pushed against the back of her throat, and then she went down more, letting her lips touch the base of his cock, her bottom lip resting on his ball sack. And then back up she would go until only the head of his cock was in her mouth. She did this a few more times, using one hand to squeeze and grope his testicles.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up and took her by the shoulders, pulling his away from her and throwing her next to him on the bed. She thought he was going to fuck her, but he surprised her by standing up and pulling his clothes off, and then climbing atop of her, but so his cock was positioned between her breasts.
“I have to fuck these tits,” Casey breathed, and Rae smiled as she used her hands to push them together.
Casey’s dick was wet with her saliva, and it easily slid between her luscious breasts. She bent her head and opened her mouth, so that when he was at the top most point of his thrust the head of his cock pushed between her lips and sat for a moment on her tongue. Then he was pulling his hips back, and his cock slid away from her mouth.
“Fuck,” Casey groaned.
“You tit fuck all of your new co-stars?” Rae purred.
“Just the beautiful ones,” Casey said.
“Aren’t they all beautiful?”
Casey laughed and winked, and then he was pulling away from her. He bent over her, pressing his lips against hers roughly. He reached up to her fashionably frizzy hair, and got a good grip, tightening a fist around some of her locks. He pulled her head to the side, and she ran her fingers across her back as his mouth went to her neck, where he kissed and nibbled.
She spread her legs to him. She wasn’t on the pill, because she wasn’t seeing anyone, and he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who carried a condom around, so she pushed the worry from her mind as he reached down with one hand and guided himself into her wet snatch.
Rae moaned as he pushed deep inside of her. He was atop of her, his weight completely bearing on her. But he wedged his free hand between their bodies so he could grope at her tits. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it softly, as he began to push in and out of her.
It started sweet enough; he thrust slowly, deeply, but he began to lose himself. His hips moved faster, and she began to move hers with his. He felt wonderful inside her, his thick cock pushing and pulsing against the walls of her cunt. Be kissed her again, biting softly on her bottom lip, and then he lifted up and moved his lips to one of her nipples. He sucked on it, bit it lightly. She groaned and said his name softly, her eyes closed her back arching.
The lovemaking became furious then, his hips slapping audibly against her pelvis. She was wet, soaked, her juices running out of her pussy and around his cock, dripping down his balls, creating a wet spot on the comforter which covered the bed.
She could come from intercourse alone, but it was always best when she was on top, so she put her hands on his side and pushed him, and he allowed her to do so, falling to the side and laying on his back. Rae quickly climbed atop him, squatting and reaching down and gripping his cock in one hand. She lowered herself upon it, and before she could get him all the way in, he grabbed her hips and grunted, thrusting upwards, burying his cock so deep in her, she cried out.
He set the pace, using his hands to do so, and she rode him wildly, yelling the whole time.
“Fuck!” she cried. “Casey!”
He moaned and breathed the word fuck under his breath. But she was lost in a world of ecstasy, and soon she was orgasming, her pussy growing even wetter, the walls of her womanhood clenching tightly on his cock.
He wasn’t far behind, and he reached up and threw her off of him, rolling with her so his dick didn’t slip out. She was on her back again, and he was back on his knees, reaching down to grab her tits in both of his hands, his fingers gripping painfully into the fatty flesh there.
“I’m coming!” he groaned, and then he thrust deep inside her, and his hard dick jumped as he sprayed a load deep inside her pussy. He thrust four more times, ejaculating each time, and then he slipped out of her, his cock soaking wet with her juice, and some of his semen ran out of her pussy to mix with her juices on the comforter. He lay beside her on his side, facing her.
“Holy shit,” Rae said, and Casey laughed.
“You can say that again,” he said.
“Holy shit,” she said again, and they both laughed.
They fucked again later that night and continued to do so while they both worked on the picture. But then she wrapped before him. He still had a month of shooting, and Casey made no indication that he wanted Rae to stay, so she returned to Hollywood, her heart heavy.
3
Rae had been home in Los Angeles for twenty-seven days before she saw Casey again. She was at home one evening, about to eat pizza with her roommate when the buzzer to their apartment blared from by the door. Her roommate went to answer, and Rae listened. When Gillian pressed the small white rectangle next to the box by their door and asked who it was, Rae was shocked to hear Casey’s voice come through, tiny but clear.
“Is Rae there?” he asked. Rae had to suppress a squeal with her hand as she jumped up from the tiny dining room table they had in the corner of the living room. Their not so spacious apartment didn’t come with a dining room, and she hurried to the box on the wall, bumping Gillian out of the way with her hip.
“I’m here, come on in,” Rae said, and she pressed a black button next to the white one that would unlock the front door. She held it long enough for him to open the door, and then she turned to Gillian.
“Rae, hun, why did that sound exactly like Casey Denning?”
“It is Casey Denning.”
“So you make a movie with him, and now he shows up at our door?”
“I guess so,” Rae said with a laugh, and then their conversation was cut short because there was a knock at the door right next to them.
“Best behavior,” Rae said, and Gillian nodded a solemn but silent promise. Then Rae opened the door, and Casey was standing there in a suit and tie, and Gillian screamed and threw her arms around the man she didn’t even know.
“Casey Denning!” she screamed. “I’ve seen every movie you’ve made!”
Casey laughed and patted Gillian’s back. “It’s a pleasure, Miss…” he said, trailing off.
“That’s my roomie, Gillian, and she said she was going to be on her best behavior.
Gillian backed off sheepishly. “That was my best behavior.”
“Relax, I’m used to surprise hugs,” Casey said. “I’m just glad this time it was a woman.”
The girls laughed, and Casey looked to Rae. “I was hoping you hadn’t eaten yet,” he said.
Rae glanced back to the pizza on their table, and then looked to her roommate and friend. She didn’t want to ditch her, but Gillian was pushing her out the door. “She hasn’t,” she said.
“Let me get dressed at least,” Rae argued, looking down to her sweatpants and tee shirt.
“Right,” Gillian said.
“Come in,” Rae said to Casey, and the man nodded, and the girls shut the door behind him. Rae turned and rushed into her small bedroom, pushing the door shut. Gillian stood staring at Casey.
They made small talk while they waited, mostly with Casey speaking and Gillian giggling and fawning. Before long Rae came out of her room, and Casey turned to her and his breath caught in his throat. She was absolutely stunning, he knew that already, but standing there in a dress with a floral print, the hem of which fell breezily past her knees, and black pumps, she looked like nothing he had ever seen.
Even Gillian appreciated it. “Wow,” she said.
“Shut up,” Rae whispered with a laugh, and then Casey whisked her out of her apartment. Parked in the small parking lot, taking up entirely too much room, was a stretch limo, gleaming and black.
“This is your car?” Rae asked before she could stop herself.
“One of them,” Casey said, and he held the door for her. As she climbed in, he laughed. “I’m just kidding, I rented it. I thought we could go to dinner, and then think of something else. A night out on the town.”
“You tease too much,” Rae said, hutting her bottom lip out in a pout, but she smiled when he sat next to her and leaned over and bit her protruding lip.
“It’s one of my many character flaws,” Casey said with a grin.
“Where are we going?”
“Where would you like to go?”
“Oh, I don’t know anything about this. I think your Los Angeles and mine are a lot different.”
Casey nodded softly. “I know just the place,” he said, and he leaned forward to speak to the driver. Afterward, the driver raised tinted glass between the back and the front, and Casey pulled a bottle of champagne out of a nearby bucket of ice and poured two glasses.
“I’ve never drunk alcohol in a car before,” Rae said, and Casey laughed.
“I don’t often, as long as you don’t pay attention to the lies they write about me in those rags.”
Rae smiled. “I didn’t think you’d come see me,” she said as she took her glass.
“I thought we had something special going on back in Toronto,” the movie star said to the young woman. And then he smiled and took a sip from his glass.
The restaurant Casey took Rae to was a posh place called Jackknife, a strange name Rae though, but once inside she knew it was the kind of place she would never be able to afford, even with the considerable sum she had made from the movie.
The lighting was dim, and the tables and chairs were dark, rich mahogany. They were seated right away, even though there was a long line at the door.
“Wow,” Rae said, and the night went on from there. The food was amazing, and the conversation telling, and non-stop. The two lovers really got to know one another. Rae told Casey about her struggles as a young actress and spoke of her mother. Her eyes slicked with tears when she spoke about her mom, and told Casey that they didn’t often speak, ever since her mother moved back to Cincinnati, and left by telling Rae she would never make it. She spoke of how hard it was to be a black woman in Hollywood, and how she lost so many roles to lesser actresses who were white.
Surprisingly, Casey opened up as well. His father had been a drunk, and abusive, hitting both Casey, his mother, and Casey’s younger brother. Rae didn’t even know he had a younger brother, and when she pressed the movie star his voice lowered, and he told her she had killed himself decades ago. Then Casey’s eyes were watery too, and as Rae saw the tears roll down his cheek, she fell in love with the man.
After dinner, they climbed back into the limo and drank more champagne. Casey told the driver to simply drive, and then he turned and began kissing on Rae’s neck.
“There’s a man up there,” she moaned as the actor slipped his hand down the front of her dress, and cupped her bare breast. Her nipple hardened at his touch.
“He can’t see anything,” Casey murmured, as he took her hand and put it on his crotch. Beneath his pants his cock was hardening, pulsing as it grew. She gripped it and began to jerk him through the material of his pants.
“I missed you,” he said, and she grinned.
“You just want to fuck my tits again,” she said, and they laughed.
They kissed, their tongues dancing together, their hands exploring. Her dress came off; his pants did the same. He was sucking on her nipple, pinching in between his teeth while the tip of his tongue flicked back and forth over it, and she had a hand gripped on his bare cock, jerking him slowly up and down.
He pushed her back, and she stretched out on the long couch at the back of the limo. He crouched down and put his head between her knees. She spread her legs and he ran a finger up her wet slit, and then his tongue replaced the finger. The tip of his tongue found her clit, and treated it the same way he had treated her nipple. Flicking back and forth at a furious pace. Before she could stop herself, she was coming, and her juices ran freely, running down his chin. He backed away and she took him by the shoulders and pulled him up, planting her lips on his, and tasting herself. It drove him wild, and Casey took her by the hips and turned her around. He pulled her down so her knees were on the floor of the limo, and her elbows were propped on the seat. He held himself while he entered her from behind, and then filled both of his hands with her ass cheeks, watching and feeling them bounce as he pushed in and out of her at a quick pace.
Casey leaned down and planted a trail of kisses along the back of her neck and downward as far as he could reach. His hands were like vice grips on her flesh, gripping her ass cheeks, moving to her hips. As his breathing became labored Rae pulled away from him, and had him sit on the seat. She knelt in front of him, and gripped the base of his cock in her right hand, and then lowered her mouth onto his rigid member.
She took him deep into her throat, and he was close, arching his hips up and holding the back of her head, so she had nowhere to go. Her eyes watered, and she gagged on his cock, but he didn’t let up, and she didn’t want him to.
She was sliding her hand up and down behind her lips, and it was too much for the man to bear. He came, his hot sticky load bursting forth from the tip of his cock and into the back of her throat. She let him finish, lifting himself up and down as he shot wad after wad of semen into her mouth. When he was done she pulled her lips from his cock and closed her mouth, smiling as she swallowed.
“Fuck, I missed you,” Casey said, and she nodded.
4
For the next month and a half, Rae was in a constant state of bliss. It seemed as though Casey wanted to spend every waking moment with her, and she was glad to oblige the movie star. She began staying at his massive mansion most nights, and he took her to the most amazing restaurants and clubs. They never waited in lines. He took her shopping, and they didn’t even make him pay. It was enough for the clothes to be seen on or around him.
And the sex, it was like nothing the young woman had ever experienced. Some nights they fucked, some nights they made love, sometimes both. He fucked her hard one afternoon by his pool, her bikini bottoms pulled to the side by eager fingers, his cock pulling out of her and spraying its load all over her back. That night they took a bath together, entwining their limbs in the warm water as they rocked slowly back and forth.
The man was surprisingly sweet, and he showered her with gifts, both extravagant and small. She would wake up and he would have breakfast made and ready for her, bringing it up on a tray so she could eat in bed. One morning she laughed.
“Did you make this?” she asked.
“I asked Caroline to make it,” he said with a grin. She was his personal chef, and she came over in the morning, and left at night. He had maids, a driver, all kinds of people. It was strange for Rae, but Casey seemed used to it all.
She was once shopping for groceries with Gillian since she still tried to sleep at her old apartment once or twice a week. The two women were checking out when a group of men dressed smartly came into the store and singled out Rae and then began singing to her. They sang in French, and she couldn’t understand a word, but it was the most beautiful song she had ever heard. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and Gillian laughed and laughed. Her friend would break into fake French singing for the next two weeks, nearly every time they saw each other.
It was hard to go out, though. It was one thing to go to posh restaurants, but even going from the car to the front door was a nightmare. There’d be a number of men with cameras, and they’d all push forward to get their shots. Even when Rae wasn’t with Casey, they began to show up.
Once Casey attempted to take her to the zoo, but they left after twenty minutes because the paparazzi was disturbing them and everyone around them. Rae had never experienced anything like it. She realized that Casey had lived that sort of life for years. Decades really, and it made her admire him even more. He never complained, he never raised his voice to the paparazzo’s. He never threatened to hit them. He just went about his day as best as he could, and sometimes when it became almost overbearing he would stop, and smile, and let them take his picture. Rae loved that about him. She knew he was annoyed, she knew he was angry, but he didn’t let them know. If anything, he knew that flying off the handle would make for better pictures, and his face would be red and angry and yelling silent screamed from the cover of every magazine in the country. So he didn’t do that. He would speak softly to them, and they would fall quiet to hear him.
“Go ahead,” he would say, and then he would smile. “Do your worst.”
And the men with cameras would love him for it. “Hey thanks, Casey,” they would say. “Love the suit.” And he would smile and nod his head in thanks, and go on his way until he ran into another group of the parasites further down the block.
Rae had read about Casey, and she worried it could end at any moment. It always seemed to do so with him. She was just one in a long line of young starlets. Their movie was close to wrapping post production, and it would be out in only weeks. They had been spotted together by the paparazzi, and her name was going around town, and the nation. She landed a new film herself, a science fiction action flick where she would be playing a woman in the galactic army, intent on taking down invading aliens. She began working out for the role, hoping to look a little tougher in her uniform, which of course would be ripped by an alien claw to show off her toned stomach. There were no more commercials for her. She even managed to get Gillian a small role in the film, and her friend was ecstatic.
And then it all came crashing down. Rae had missed a period, and she began feeling sick throughout the day. She worried she was pregnant, but she put off taking the test until she missed a second one. She went back home, huddled around the bathroom sink with Gillian after peeing on the little white plastic stick, and they watched as it revealed that she was going to have a baby.
Rae went to see Casey that night.
“I can’t have a kid,” he said, shaking his head and catching her off guard.
“What?” Rae asked.
“I can’t have a kid. I can’t. We aren’t married, and… I… the press, the public, they just… I can’t.”
“Well, I’m not going to get rid of it!’ Rae said, feeling hot tears stinging her eyes.
“I never said that!” Casey said, standing up. They were in his spacious living room, on the ground floor of his massive mansion. “And keep your voice down, the cook might hear you.”
“Oh, the cook? Of course the cook is here. Why wouldn’t he be? You’re too rich to take care of yourself, right? How long is it going to be until you find another me? One without your child growing in her belly?”
“What are you talking about? Casey asked, coming forward and trying to take her arms, but she stepped out of his reach.
“Forget it,” Rae said, and she didn’t know why she was so angry, or so hurt, but she turned around and hurried out of the man’s home. He had bought her a car, and she felt horrible driving in it, but she had no way to get back home, so she did so.
Days passed, and Casey tried to call her, and when she wouldn’t answer he showed up at her apartment, but Gillian told him to go away and he did so. Rae spent most of her time crying, and the days turned into weeks.
The day before the big premiere of Rae’s first movie, she and Gillian sat on her bed, talking. Already, Rae was showing, her stomach pushing against her shirt uncomfortably.
“I’m here for you, girl, but I don’t understand… why…” Gillian said, but she didn’t know how to finish her sentence.
“Why I’m keeping it?”
“I guess… I didn’t want to say it like that, but yes.”
“I don’t know. I would be a good mom, you know? I will be a good mom. Like my mom was. She came out here with me. But now we hardly talk. I haven’t even told her about this, but… I just want to do right. You know, I have this cousin, and she didn’t live where I lived. She didn’t have the same opportunities, and as hard as it is, as hard as it was, and has been, to get work here, as much as I was overlooked, she came from somewhere else. She was pregnant at fourteen, the dad was just some kid, she was just some kid, and she didn’t keep it. And she acted tough, you know? She had to, living where she lived. But it killed her. I could see it in her eyes. I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to act tough. If Casey doesn’t want to do it with me, to raise this kid, then fine. But I can’t give up on him. Or her.”
Gillian smiled softly, and she hugged her friend. “I’m here for you. Remember that.”
Rae smiled, and then she began to cry, as she so often did.
5
The premiere of When Love Speaks was another point on the long list of things Rae had never thought she would experience. There was a red carpet, and she was let out of a limo along with Gillian, her plus one. They posed for pictures, smiling and laughing, intent of having a good time. There was a group where people stood, simply fans of movies, or fans of celebrities. Some of them called Rae’s name, and it was shocking, but it delighted her. She went to see them, the normal people, and she felt terrible that she thought of them that way. She signed anything they pressed into her hand, and she leaned close to the railing that separated them from her, smiling into cell phone after cell phone as she took thirty selfies. They neared the historic theater where the premier was taking place, and Rae froze in her tracks. There was Casey, smiling with Amelia Stevens, who was dressed as nicely as Rae was, and who looked a little bored. She had done a premier a hundred times. She wasn’t excited anymore, but Rae was sure she had been once.
Seeing Casey brought a painful twinge to Rae’s chest, as if her heart was literally breaking. He saw her, his eyes flickering over to her, but then the people taking pictures were calling his name, and he was smiling again and looking at them. Bright bulbs flashed.
“Rae, go have a picture with your co-stars,” one man with a camera yelled out after noticing her. Rae forced a smile on her face, and went to do so. She stood next to Amelia, pointedly putting her between Casey and herself. But the older actress soon tired of the charade, and she smiled to Rae.
“He’s all yours, sweetie,” she said, and she headed into the theater. Rae hesitated, but Casey moved over and put his arm around her, smiling for the camera men as they took a hundred photos. Rae smiled too, but she wasn’t sure how she was managing to. She put a hand protectively on her stomach as the bright lights blinded her.
“Are you two still together?” one man asked. “No one has seen you together in months!”
Rae didn’t want to answer him, was going to ignore him, but Casey stepped forward, and he held his hands up.
“I’d like to address that head-on,” he said, and the cameras stopped clicking. Some nearby reporters hurried over and held digital voice recorders up. A camera crew and reporter from television hurried up as well.
The months I’ve spent with Rae Coleman have been the greatest months of my life,” Casey said, and Rae didn’t know what to think. Was he going to lie about their relationship? Why was he so concerned what people thought about him? The man went on, and she listened.
“I have to say, I can get caught up in all of this,” Casey said. “There're all of these rules; there’s all of these things. Focus groups tell us what they like in movies, and what they don’t. I get hung up on them, and I think about them in real life. Everything I do is scrutinized. It’s exhausting, but it’s part of the game. It’s what I do, and it’s what affords me a privileged life. So I do it.”
Rae looked over to Gillian, who held up her hands in an exaggerated shrug, and Casey went on.
“I’ve dated a million girls. Most of them young, all of them beautiful, and they all meant something to me. But never like this. Never like this woman standing next to me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s insanely talented. I’ve done this for a long time, and when someone comes in, so young and fresh, and she can teach you something about what you do, you take notice. You're about to see that in this film tonight.”
Rae didn’t know what to think. Was he buttering her up? Trying to get her to take him back? She didn’t want him back, not like that. She wanted him to own up to it all, she wanted him to be a father.
Casey continued. “What I’m ashamed of is how I’ve acted recently. After I learned that Miss Coleman was pregnant.”
There was an audible gasp from the gathered crowd, and Rae thought it was like something out of a movie.
“She told me she was pregnant, and I didn’t step up. I’m an idiot, because I lost her. I was worried about those focus groups. I was worried I would be done. Women, they have this idea that I’m available, it’s fine if I date, but to Michelle in Michigan, I could be hers. When she watches one of my movies, I am hers. But if I’m a dad. If I have a wife… she can’t do that. Well I realize now, that sorry to Michelle from Michigan, but I don’t care. I want to be a dad, and I want to have a wife, and Rae, I have to ask you….” Casey said, trailing off and turning towards her. He pulled something small out of his pocket, and she saw it was a box. He knelt on one knee, and opened the lid of the box. Inside was the most beautiful engagement ring she had ever seen.
“Will you marry me?” Casey asked, and Rae realized there was a stream of tears rolling down her face. She nodded, her hand clamped over her mouth. Casey smiled and rose, and they hugged. And then they kissed, and the camera started up again, but neither of them noticed the flashes.
****
THE END
The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Ella’s Story
''Welcome to PB Real Estate, Ella,'' Steffi Rushden said.
''Thank you,” Ella replied. “I'm so happy to be here. It's not easy finding a good job these days.''
''You were by far the best candidate, and we had a lot of applicants. Here's your desk. Do you think you'll be comfortable here?''
Ella glanced around the office she was going to work in. She'd applied for the position of junior management accountant without having much hope of actually landing the job. To her surprise, she was now standing on the fourteenth floor of a luxury office building in Manhattan with Steffi, the woman who had interviewed her, just a few days ago. ''Yes, it's perfect,' Ella said as she looked at her new work station, a glass desk with chrome frame and a leather chair on chrome legs. ''I know I'm not here to look at the view, but wow, you can almost see Europe from here,'' Ella added, as she looked out past the Statue Of Liberty.
''It's a really great place to work, for all sorts of reasons. Now let me introduce you to Mike. He's the company management accountant, and he'll be looking after you for a few weeks until you get the hang of how we operate here.''
Mike Johnson was the sort of man Ella had always thought would be an accountant. He was of medium height, slightly overweight and bald. His silver rimmed glasses were too big for his face, and they clung perilously to the end of his nose. She did note, however, that his suit and shoes were of the highest quality and must have cost more money than most people earn in a year.
''Hello, Ella. It's a pleasure to meet you. I thought we could spend a few minutes getting to know each other before we start work,'' he said. Ella was relieved to note his friendly disposition. She had been woken in the night by an awful dream, in which she was lumbered with an ogre of a boss.
''Great, I'd like that,'' Ella said as Mike gestured to her to sit down. Ella's desk was in a small office, which contained to two work places. One for her and one for Mike. The company was expanding, and Mike had asked Pavel if he could have an assistant to help him.
''So tell me a bit about yourself, I met you briefly at the interview, but it was Steffi who really got to know you. She told me you will be a star and that your qualifications are second to none.''
''It's kind of her to say so. I'm very pleased she thought so highly of me. Well, I don't really know where to start,'' Ella said as her thumbs wound around each other. ''I'm twenty-three, and I've just graduated from Pace. I was born into a pretty poor family, my Mom and Dad are second-generation African Americans. Dad works in cold storage, and Mom's just lost her job. She was a packer at a fish factory. It was terrible work, so I'm not unhappy she's lost it. She's got crippling arthritis from the damp, cold conditions.''
Ella wondered whether she was telling Mike too much background information, but he seemed to be smiling and nodding, and not at all bored, so she continued. ''They did everything they could to give me a good start in life. I couldn't have wished for better parents, but they were desperately short of money all the time. We live in a tiny apartment in Bedford, and do our best, like all the other residents, to avoid getting shot or stabbed. I went to school, seemed to do okay, and got a place at Pace. Mom and Dad were so proud of me when I landed this job; I can't tell you.''
''Well, you certainly seem to be working your way up in the world. I really admire you for that. What about hobbies? What do you like to do in your spare time.''
''I love reading, and I've done a bit of part time modeling. Nothing glamorous, but I've been in a few catalogs.''
Mike could quite see why. Ella was striking. When she'd walked into the room, he'd been very surprised to see how tall she was. He estimated five ten and she was wearing flat shoes. Her black skin shone with the healthy glow of youth, and he loved the way she wore her hair. She'd tied in up, and she looked quite the business woman. She had remarkably fine bones and a whiter than white smile. Mike liked to think of himself as a kind soul who would never look at a woman in an inappropriate manner, but faced with Ella; he was struggling to live up to his self-image. He found his eyes falling to her breasts and lovely legs far too often for his liking. Ella was wearing a skirt, and when she crossed her legs, Mike was embarrassed to feel a stir in his groin.
That’s nice,'' he said averting his eyes as Ella once again shifted her weight from one buttock to the other. ''So what do you know about PB Real Estate?''
''I know it's owner, Pavel Belyakov is a Russian, and that the company is quite new. I believe the company has existed for two years and that Mr Belyakov buy and sells residential properties in the Manhattan area,'' Ella said.
''That just about sums it up,'' Mike said, trying his best to keep eye contact. ''Our job Ella, is to complete the financial paperwork on the deals Mr Beljakov agrees. Our work calls for a high degree of accuracy, and in most cases speed. I have never seen a deal go past me that was for less than five million dollars, and most of them are above twenty million.'' Mike noticed Ella's eyes roll as she tried to image such sums. ''It's the lawyers job to make sure the contracts are water tight, and our job to make sure the money gets from Mr Beljakov's account to the vendor, on time. In addition, we are responsible for keeping an eye on how the investments perform over time. We need to check rental incomes against maintenance expenditure and so forth. As time goes by, you will learn how we do that. Any questions before we start to work?''
''No, I don't think so. I guess I'll have a thousand questions once I get started, but for now, I don't.''
''You've joined us at a great time actually. Last year Mr. Beljakov threw a mid-summer party, and he's decided to do so again. It's next week, and all his employees are invited. So you'll meet him then,'' Mike added as he stood up.
Ella sat at her desk and looked down to the street below. She'd never been so high before, and she was amazed to see how tiny the people looked as they scurried around. Mike gave her some easy tasks to do, to ease her into the job but before she began. Before she began, she took a moment to realize where she was, and what she had achieved. She, a black woman from a low-income family, had landed a well-paid job in a real estate firm, with luxury offices somewhere up in the sky. She smiled to herself. She was on her way in life, and nothing could stop her now.
*****
''Ouch, Mom, that hurt,'' Ella squealed.
''Sorry honey. I'm just trying to get these pins in. I think I need some new glasses,'' her mom said, as she held the hem of Ella's dress. ''It's a pity this party is taking place before you've got your first paycheck. You could have gone downtown and bought yourself something beautiful instead of this rag.''
''It's not a rag, mom. It was very nice of Jenny to lend me her best dress. I told her I would replace it when I got paid. It fits okay doesn't it?'' Ella was petrified. When Mike had told her about the summer party at Mr. Beljakov's, she had given no thought whatsoever to what she would wear. With two days to go , she'd suddenly realized that she didn't have a dress. Not even an old one. She'd managed to buy a couple of skirts for work, but a dress was well out of her financial reach, so she'd called her best friend and pleaded.
''It'll fit fine when I've finished with it,'' her mother said without managing to convince her daughter.
Ella looked at her mother as she knelt in front of her, trying to pin the hem of the borrowed dress. Ella felt a knot in her stomach when she saw her mom's arthritic hands struggling with the tiny pins. Her Mum had gone gray, quite suddenly after she'd lost her job. She'd thought her world had come to an end because she and her husband desperately needed the money. Ella hadn't told her mom how much her new job paid. She wanted it to be a surprise when she came home and gave her more housekeeping in a week than her mom could earn in a month at the fish factory.
''There, that's the last pin. Now go and have a look in the mirror,'' Ella's mom said.
Ella stood in her bedroom and looked at herself. ''It looks okay,'' she shouted back to the sitting room where her mom was rubbing her sore joints.
''Of course, it looks okay. You're a beautiful girl; you can carry anything off with your figure. Whoever you fall in love with, will be a very lucky man indeed.''
When Ella had first seen the dress, she hadn't been sure at all. It was made of shiny red silk, and she'd thought it too trashy. It was also low cut and showed a lot more bust than she wanted to. But after her mom's alterations, she felt more confident.
*****
''Are you okay, Ella. You're trembling,'' Mike shouted.
''It so high. I don't mind admitting, I'm scared,'' Ella replied as she stood on the roof of the building in which their office was located, and tried to prevent her dress from lifting in the wind.
''Look, it's coming. Only a couple of minutes and we'll be off,'' Mike shouted as he pointed towards a dot in the distance.
As the helicopter got closer to the landing pad, Ella didn't' know what to do. Either put her hands over her ears, and risk her dress flying up over her bottom, or keep hold of her dress and risk being deafened.
When she was safely inside the vehicle, she surveyed the damage. Her hair was all over the place, and her ears were ringing. At least, she'd been able to keep her modesty, she thought. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a mirror and a comb. While the helicopter flew over Manhattan, she did her best to fix her hair. She was less than satisfied with the result when she'd finished. The mirror was too small for hair, and it was a bumpy ride, so her hands kept moving all over the place. Heaven knows what Mr Beljakov would think when he met her, she thought.
''That's it,'' Mike said as he pointed.
Ella looked down and saw a mansion. As they got closer, she saw the most beautiful building she had ever seen. They landed on an immaculate lawn about three hundred meters away from the house. Luckily for Ella, the pilot switched the engine off before she got out, allowing her hair to stay intact. Mike jumped out first, and offered his hand, she gratefully accepted.
''Follow me,'' he said, once Ella had alighted. Ella looked around. They were on a large lawn, which was bordered by woodland on three sides. On the fourth side, there was a white post and rail fence with an open gate in it. They walked through the gate and down a path. When they rounded a corner, she saw it.
Windward Hall. Eighty-seven rooms set in thirty-three acres of land. It was built in nineteen seventeen and bought by Mr. Beljakov three years ago for thirty-seven million dollars. Ella stopped walking and took in her surroundings. She was in awe of the place. She lived in a two bedroom apartment, in a seedy part of town, and as much as she tried to imagine what it must be like to live in such a place, she couldn't. The house was white. It was built in the Tudor-Elizabethan style and had an upstairs balcony that stood on magnificent columns. The front door was enormous and had two beautiful brass coach lamps mounted to each side of it. To the left of the main house, there was a wing that appeared to house a library, and to the right, another wing that appeared to contain a swimming pool. To Ella, the most impressive feature was the giant chimney stack with more pots that she could count.
As they walked through the garden towards the house, Ella smelt the scent of roses. The borders were filled with flowers. She recognized some like sweet pea and Iris, but there were many varieties she had never seen before. She thought Mike would knock on the front door, but he didn't. He took a path to the left of the house and led her around to the rear of the property.
The rear of the house had an even more magnificent garden than the front. There was a terrace adorned with statues of Greek Gods and lawns, which stretched for as far as Ella could see. On the terrace she saw many expensively dressed people, most of them holding champagne glasses. Ella suddenly felt very conspicuous in her cheap borrowed dress. The women at the party were all wearing magnificent evening gowns and expensive jewelry. The mansion, the people, the surroundings, all added to make her feel poor and insignificant.
Mike smiled at her; she was sure he could sense what she was feeling, and she was grateful to him for making an effort to put her at ease. She followed him to the crowd of people, where he introduced her to a group of women who looked as if they'd never done a hard day’s work in their lives. Ella spoke politely and explained that she was new to the company and that she'd just graduated. When they asked where she lived, she lied.
After Ella had drunk her first glass of champagne, she began to feel a little less inhibited. She told herself that she was as good as any of these people and that she was on her way up the ladder, and would one day be rich like them.
''Ella,'' Mike called as he beckoned her to him. ''I want you to meet Mr. Beljakov. This is Ella Freeman, she's my new assistant,'' he said to the man standing next to him.
''Please to meet you, Mr. Beljakov,'' Ella said as she shook his hand.
''Pavel, call me Pavel, please. Mike gets so formal. It must be his English roots,'' he said. Ella tried to sum Pavel up. It wasn't difficult. She only needed three words: rich and gorgeous. ''How are you settling in at work?'' he asked.
Ella was awestruck. A tall man, several inches taller than she, he had blue eyes and blonde hair. He was remarkably fresh faced, which made her place him at around thirty, certainly no older. When he spoke, he spoke perfect English, but he had a Russian accent that Ella found gave him a boyish charm.
''Fine thank you. I am very pleased I got the job. It isn't easy to find work these days,'' she replied.
''I'm very happy to have you working for me. I need talented people. When Steffi told me about you, I was very impressed and eager to meet you. I'm very glad you came today.''
''I'm pleased I came too, and it's lovely to meet you,'' Ella said.
Ella prided herself on being a good judge of character, and she saw a man who, despite his wealth, was a little insecure. The way he spoke to her was gentle and soft, and yet she knew from the little she had seen of his company so far, that he could be a ruthless negotiator. When she and Mike had talked about him, Mike had described him as kind and good-natured, but he'd warned her that when his back was against the wall, his nature often changed into that of a cold assassin.
''Please excuse me, I need to have a word with someone over there. Business never ends,'' Pavel said smiling at her. As he turned, his eyes lingered and scanned her body. ''We're going to have lunch shortly. It's a buffet, quite informal; perhaps you would do me the honor of keeping me company as we eat,'' he asked.
Ella, lost for words, just nodded.
When the buffet was ready, Ella stood in line waiting to take a plate.
''No, you don't have to stand in line,'' Pavel said as she walked up to her.
''I have ten employees, and they always go first. Those people standing in line are real estate agents and bankers and their partners. They're here for a free meal so that I can get a reduced rate from them when I use their services. Come with me.''
Ella followed him to the front and, was charmed when he handed her a plate. Ella looked down the table, and there was almost every type of food she could think if. Meats, fish, vegetable, fruits and delicious looking pastries. ''It all looks so delicious, I haven't a clue where to start,'' she said.
''Start wherever you like. There is just one rule,'' Pavel said pulling a cheeky face. ''You have to eat at least one spoonful of caviar. I had it flown in, from Russia specially for today. It's from my hometown.''
''You had a plane fly it here?''
''Yes, my plane went and fetched it.''
''But isn't that terribly expensive,'' Ella asked slightly concerned at the decadence he was displaying.
“I suppose it's expensive, but the plane doesn't fly empty on the way over there. It's crammed full of toys for an orphanage I look after.''
Ella felt guilty for even questioning his motives. ''Well, in that case, I'll have two spoonfuls.''
When they had both filled their plates, Pavel showed her to a table. It was big enough for four to sit at, but nobody came and sat with them. Ella assumed people would only do that if they were invited and Pavel didn't seem to want any more company.
''How long have you lived in the US?'' Ella asked.
''Since I was twenty-five, so for about five years.''
''I hope you don't mind me prying but why did you come here?''
''I am from a town called Sochi, on the Black Sea. I was an orphan; it seems nobody wanted me,'' he said with a grin. Ella didn't find his quip funny.
''When I was eighteen, I was drafted into the Red Army, like all kids my age. I spent twenty-four months under an officer called Abram Volkov. He was also from Sochi. We left the army at more or less the same time, and when he got into real estate and other business activities, he gave me work doing jobs for him. When he moved his business empire to New York, he brought me here with him.''
''What kind of jobs?'' Ella asked.
Pavel looked into her eyes. Where had this beauty suddenly appeared from? he thought. ''Jobs like collecting money from people, and threatening to break their legs if they didn't pay,'' Pavel said openly.
''Mafia stuff?'' Ella asked without actually wanting to know the answer.
''Abram is a very dangerous man, and he has connections. In Sochi, every second person walks with a limp because he thinks they've crossed him. I was young and strong, and Abram used me to collect rents. Sure, I had to get my hands dirty sometimes, but Ella, it was Russia.'' Ella nodded and somehow she seemed to understand.
''So you came to the US. And do you like it here?''
''I like it very much. It's a place where you can make vast sums of money. I seem to have done quite well so far.'' Ella was about to tell him, that money wasn't everything, but she knew it would sound hypocritical. After all, she was working for him, and she needed him to do well.
''It's very rude of me, I know, but how does someone get so rich. How can you be born an orphan, and end up this rich,'' Ella gestured to the mansion.
Pavel wiped his fingers on a crisp white serviette and thought for a while. ''It's difficult to explain. One day I saw something I shouldn't have and certain people are grateful for my silence. '' Ella was fascinated. He had only known her for a few minutes, yet he was telling her things, that most other people would keep secret. ''All I did was work for Abram for some years, save the money he paid me, and invest in a piece of real estate. That was a success , and so I kept on doing it.'' He paused as he cut a piece of chicken down to bite size. '' Dealing just seemed to come naturally to me. When I thought I had enough cash, I told Abram I wanted to start up on my own, and that's what I've been doing for the last two years.''
''What did he say to you?'' Ella wanted to know.
Pavel pushed a piece of tomato into his mouth and thought about how to answer such a tricky question. ''He wasn't happy at all. Will you go on a date with me?'' he said out of the blue.
Ella almost spat her food out in surprise. ''Why do you want to date me?'' she asked.
''Because you are beautiful and you intrigue me.''
''You are a very rich man. You have more money that a thousand people will ever see in their lives. I am a black woman from a poor background, and I live in a shit hole. You've gotta be joking.''
Pavel laughed out loud, and a number of people looked at them. ''Er... no actually, I wasn't joking.''
''You could have any woman walking the planet and you want me? Pavel, I've known you for half an hour, and you've already asked me on a date. How do I know you don't do this to every woman you meet? How do I know you're not just messing with me?''
Pavel looked at her dress and wondered where she had bought it. Her breasts looked gorgeous, and he wanted to unpack them on the spot. ''You can only find out if I'm messing with you, by saying yes. If you say no, you will never find out. The moment I saw you, I couldn't take my eyes off you. The choice is yours.''
Ella's head was spinning. Was she in a dream of some kind? Only a few days ago, she was an unemployed graduate, and now she was being chased by a Russian billionaire.
*****
''Ah, my dear Pavel. Sit down, I just have a bit of business to attend to, and I'll be right with you,'' Abram said as he held his hand over the phone.
His appearance had changed significantly in the years since Pavel had first met him, Pavel thought. He had always been a big guy, but now at the age of fifty-two, he was on the fat side of muscular. His hair had gone gray, and it had started to thin on top. He was now the kind of man, who went around with beads of sweat rolling from his forehead, a sure sign he was out of condition. Abram had a round face, and he was quite obviously Russian. Pavel, on the other hand, had much finer Slavic features and could be thought to come from a number of countries.
''What do you mean you don't want to sell the apartment anymore? You told me when we last met that it was a formality, and the contract was on it's way,'' Abram barked down the phone. Pavel heard a man on the other end say something which made Abram explode into one of his rages.
''You're what? Your daughters have decided they want to keep it? Well, tell you fucking daughters that they can't keep it. You told me I could buy it, so as far as I'm concerned, the deal's done. Now instruct your lawyers to make out the contract of sale or I'll come round with some of my guys, and we'll all rape your wife. Do you understand?'' Abram slammed the phone down and let out a roar of frustration. ''Americans, they can never make up their damn minds.''
''You wanted to see me, Abram?'' Pavel asked calmly.
''Yes. I've got a job for you.''
Pavel sighed. He thought Abram had understood. He plainly hadn't. ''I'm trying to get going on my own Abram. I know I owe you a lot. In fact everything, but you need to let me go now. No more jobs. Get someone else.''
Pavel looked around the office as he waited for a reply. It was a typical Manhattan office, floor to ceiling windows, air conditioning and a view to die for. One thing that set it apart from most other executive offices, was the Russian flag hanging from the wall behind Abram's desk, and a set of swords mounted in racks on the wall behind the meeting area. Pavel remembered one occasion when Abram had held one of the swords to a vendors throat because he wouldn't agree to Abrams offer.
''I know you have your own company now, but I have never found anyone as persuasive as you. Listen, an asshole promised me first refusal on a residential block, and now he's rejected my offer. I need you to go and persuade him it's not a wise choice.''
''And how exactly do you want me to do that?'' Pavel asked.
''Now that's the dumbest question you have ever asked. Do it like you always did. Hang him from a high building, threaten to kill his kids or his wife, cut off a finger or kidnap his mother. I don't care.''
''I've changed. I'm running a legal outfit. I'm done with all that violence. I don't like it.''
''Listen to yourself. You sound so smug and righteous. How is your business doing? From what I've seen, you've missed out on a lot of purchases. Why? Because you've gone soft.'' Abram came from behind his desk and sat on the front edge. ''If you don't persuade people to take your offer and only yours, how do you expect to make money? The only way is to frighten the crap out of them until they give in, and take your offer, under the current market value.''
''Like I explained, Abram, I've had enough of those tactics. I'll take my chance in a fair market,'' Pavel said.
''Just one more time Pavel, for old time’s sake. I need your help,'' Abram pulled a hangdog face in the hope it would play on Pavel's conscience.
''Okay, but absolutely the last one.''
Abram pulled his widest smile and slapped Pavel on the back. ''Now, we have to discuss the question of my daughter Ilona. What's the delay? She wants to marry you, I want you to marry her and Goddammit, even her mother wants you to marry her. So why are you dragging your heels?''
Pavel didn't have the stomach to tell him that he wasn't in love with his daughter or indeed that he thought his daughter uncouth. When it came to Abram's daughter, he knew he had to tread very carefully. Abram had once whacked a guy to within an inch his life for refusing his daughters advances. Although these days Pavel could easily beat Abram if it came to it, Abram knew some very unsavory characters that Pavel did not wish to meet. ''Let me have a think about it. It's important to get the timing right,'' he said, instantly scolding himself for being too soft again.
''Well get a move on, all this procrastination is giving me indigestion. You don't have to go home every evening and listen to two women bellyaching about a wedding.''
*****
''Wow, look at you. Are you going out with him again?'' Ella's mother asked as Ella came from her bedroom. ''I make that three times this week.''
''Yes, Mom, I'm going out with him again, and yes it's the third time this week.''
''Who is he? So far you haven't told me a thing about him.''
''All in good time. We're just getting to know each other when the time is right; I'll tell you and Dad about him.''
''Well, you go and have a good time. I'm going to watch that new series on TV and wait for your father. I do so worry about him. He's working so hard, and he's not in the flush of youth anymore.''
''Mom,'' Ella said, not knowing why she was lowering her voice, but it seemed appropriate. ''You and Dad are very proud people, and I know you don't like accepting charity, but what I am about to do isn't charity. You have earned it by your devotion to me for all those years.''
''What are you talking about? Charity?''
Ella handed her mother an envelope and watched as her mothers arthritic hands opened it. ''No, this is too much. You can't do this. I know we spoke about you paying something towards the household running costs once you had a job, but this is way too much,'' she said, looking down at two thousand dollars.
''You can complain all you want, but from now on, you're getting two thousand a month from me. I'll see you later; I don't want to keep him waiting.''
Ella took the elevator down to the street. However many times the landlord cleaned it, it always smelled of urine, she thought. Ella waited on the corner at the end of her street. It was the only green spot in the area, and the one place she felt comfortable letting Pavel pick her up from. There were a few kids playing soccer a little further up, and when the Bugatti Veyron passed them, they stopped and stared. Ella heard one kid shouting that the car costs one million, seven hundred thousand dollars.
''Hi,'' Pavel beamed as he stopped. ''I'm Pavel, and you look like a nice lady, do you want to eat ice cream with me?''
''No sir, my mother told me never to get into a car with a stranger,'' Ella laughed. ''Where are you taking me tonight?'' she asked, once she was belted into the three hundred kilometer an hour machine.
''Nowhere before I tell you how gorgeous you look,'' Pavel said as he looked at her. Ella had spent a lot of her first paycheck on clothes. That evening she was wearing her favorite article, a classic white evening dress with spaghetti straps and a soft shawl. She'd gone for white heels and was now almost as tall as Pavel. The only article of her outfit she wasn't happy with was her necklace. She'd almost run out of money by the time she'd given any consideration to jewelry, so she'd bought a cheap necklace that she thought looked expensive. Now she regretted having done so.
''Thank you, and you look as handsome as ever,'' Ella replied.
''I hope you don't mind, but I would like to spend the evening with you at home. I get a bit fed up of expensive restaurants, most of the are pretentious rip-off establishments. I thought we could have a bottle of wine and talk. It's a lovely evening; we can sit on the terrace.''
''That will be lovely. You know, that's exactly what I would like to do. Although perhaps I'm a little overdressed for hanging around in your garden.''
''Don't worry. I'm sure we can find a shirt and a pair of jeans for you.''
The drive to Pavel's house took an hour, and as they went along the highway, Ella noticed how many people gaped at the car. When they pulled into the driveway at Windward Hall, Ella looked at the mansion and had to pinch herself. Was she really dating this man, she asked herself?
They went in through the front door. It was the first time Ella had been into the house. At the party, she'd stayed outside all the time, and on their previous dates, Pavel had taken her to restaurants. The entrance hall was large and had a black and white tiled floor. She liked the large gilded mirror and matching candle sticks which adorned the fire place. When they walked through to the sitting room, Ella gasped. Never had she seen such luxury. The room reached the whole height of the building, and she could see the sky through a dome in the roof. The staircase seemed to be made of glass and ran up to an open landing that circled the room. On the floor, Ella noticed an oriental rug in front of two huge white sofas.
''Take a seat, I'll get us a drink,'' he said as he pointed to a sofa. Ella sat down and nearly disappeared into the softness of the cushions. After just a couple of minutes, he returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
''Oh, that tastes nice. I don't think I've ever tasted wine that good,'' Ella said.
''It's from Russia. It's a surprising country sometimes. Who would think we can produce wine of this quality. Most people think it's a frozen wasteland. Come with me,'' he said getting up. Ella followed him, as he walked down a corridor. At the end there was a double door, Pavel held it open for her, and she walked inside. It was a magnificent swimming pool. The whole room was tiled, and the pool was full size, twenty-five meters long. To the side were loungers between palm trees in huge pots that gave the place a Mediterranean feel.
''There's a changing room over there,'' Pavel pointed. ''Inside you'll find some new swimwear, it should fit you.''
''I hadn't thought about swimming,'' Ella said. ''How do you know the swimwear will fit me?''
''A nice lady in a very luxurious shop told me that if I gave her a photo of you, she would be able to fit you a swim suit. Apparently, she's got so much experience she can do it by eye. So I took a chance. I hope I was correct to place so much faith in her.''
''But where did you get a photo?'' Ella asked, a puzzled look on her face. Pavel didn't answer; he just pointed to the door in the corner. Ella smiled and walked towards the door.
The small room was tiled in Victorian dark green, the same as the swimming pool. There was a wooden seat and a table in the corner and a shower area to the right. Pavel had placed the swimwear on the table. Ella looked at it. One bikini and one swimsuit. She didn't know which to choose. In the end, she slipped out of her dress and put on the bikini. When she looked in the mirror, she saw it was a perfect fit. The light blue material looked great against her black skin and the top hugged her breasts. The bottoms showed off her rear to perfection. When she was ready, her heart began to beat faster as she opened the door and stepped back into the pool area.
At first, she didn't see Pavel. But on closer inspection, he was already in the pool. He was swimming under water. Ella was a little uneasy at him seeing her in a state of semi-nakedness so she dived in. When she surfaced, he was treading water next to her.
''It fits then,'' he noted.
''Perfectly,'' she said.
He looked at her. Her wet hair made her look more attractive than he could stand, and the sight of the water lapping at her breasts forced him into action. He pulled her to him and kissed her. It was a long passionate kiss that left her gulping for air. He held her hand and swam to a place where they could stand up. He took her in his arms and kissed her again. Ella instantly felt aroused. He was more muscular than any man she had seen, and she had certainly never seen a man with such a beautiful stomach. Hard and ribbed. His upper arms bulged, and his chest was rock hard. His kiss was never ending, and she loved the taste of him as his tongue probed her mouth. When his hands reached down into the water and grasped her buttocks, she pushed herself against him and felt his rock hard penis push against her.
In an instant, she felt his hand on her back as he unfastened the bikini top. When he'd freed her breasts, he bent down and took a nipple into his mouth. Ella gasped and felt for his shaft. She ran her hand up and down the length of him, finally reaching to cup his balls. When she reached inside his trunks, he groaned and sucked her nipple harder. He made her hornier than she had ever been and all she wanted was to take out his cock and put it inside her. She lowered his trunks and watched as he bent down and took them off. She was in a hurry now, and she took off her bikini bottom and pulled him to her. She reached for his shaft and tried to put it between her legs, but he didn't let her. He wanted to taste her. They were standing in about three feet of water. Pavel took a deep breath and went down under the surface. Ella screamed when she felt his mouth on her womanhood. Her arousal had made her so sensitive; she could hardly bear it. But his mouth stayed fixed to her, and his tongue made tiny strokes over her clitoris.
When he came up for air, he took her hand and walked to the side of the pool. As he climbed the ladder, she looked up and saw his strong thighs and his tight ass. She wanted to reach up and grab the balls that hung under him, but he was too quick for her. She started to climb out of the pool, and he reached down and helped her. He led her to a lounger that was covered in a cushion with a thick white towel over it.
Pavel pushed Ella onto her back. He opened her legs and started to lick her vagina again. This time, his tongue made long hard strokes over her, and she started to feel her belly tighten. As he continued, she held his head to her and arched her back. When he pushed a finger inside her and found her G-spot, she groaned loudly. She had never felt a sensation like the one his finger massage was producing. Her moans became screams and then when her screams couldn't get any louder, she came in one wet burst all over him.
Pavel got up and without allowing her any time to catch her breath, he took hold of his cock and put it to her entrance. When she felt him sliding into her, she grabbed his upper arms and pulled herself onto him. He kissed her, and she responded by bucking her hips against him, willing him to drill into her faster. He picked up the tempo and loved it when Ella's breasts began to bounce up and down. She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed.
''You are so beautiful, I really want you in my life,'' he said. Ella could feel he meant it and the thought of this man in need of her spurred her to another orgasm. When he felt her come, he stopped and looked at her. As she shook under him, he suddenly became soft and gentle. He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. When she smiled up at him, he smiled back, and both of them felt their hearts lock together in a bond neither of them ever wanted to break.
Pavel began to thrust again and, this time, Ella knew it was to the end. She reached down and took hold of his balls and massaged them gently. She felt them start to swell. She loved the effect she was having on him. When he started to grunt, she leaned to his ear and whispered, ''I want your sperm inside me, now.'' This shoved him over the edge. When she felt his seed gushing into her, Ella had her third orgasm.
*****
''Twelve weeks, Pavel. What the hell are you playing at?'' Abram shouted at Pavel, who was sitting in Abrams office. ''I asked you to do that job twelve weeks ago, and what have you done? Nothing. Don't you remember what I have done for you? Without me, you would be nothing, just a poor man in a back water in Russia.'' Abram's face had turned purple with rage. Pavel couldn't remember a time when he'd spoken to him so harshly. ''Do you have so little regard for me that you lie to me. You told me you would do it, and you haven't. You're a liar. If you don't do it by the end of the week, I'll have you balls cut off. One thing you should never forget is that without my support that shitty little business of yours would dwindle like a candle on a damp night. Don't forget that. There are two things I want to know from you now. First, when will you get this job was done and second when will you propose to my daughter?''
Pavel looked at Abram, who was busy wiping saliva from his tie, and tried to decide how he should respond. Pavel was angry, angrier than he had ever been. How dare he speak to him like that? After his silence. After all the dirty jobs he'd done for him, all those poor people he'd frightened to death.
''You seem to have forgotten why you have been so generous to me over the years. The real reason. It's not because you like me is it? I will do this job for you Abram, and it will be the last one. On the subject of your daughter, she can go screw herself, as far as I'm concerned. I've never known a more obnoxious woman in my life.'' Pavel stood up and headed for the door.
''Nobody insults my daughter like that. You will never marry now. I will kill any woman who comes near you. You ungrateful bastard.''
Pavel slammed the door and decided to take the stairs. He didn't feel safe in the elevator now. As he reached the ground floor, his cellphone rang.
''Hi honey,'' Ella said. ''How's your day going?''
''I've had better days. How are you, my sweet?''
''You'd better come home, I need to talk to you.''
When Pavel got home, he found Ella, sitting on the terrace drinking tea. She didn't see him at first. He stopped and looked at her for a moment. She was playing with her hair and reading a book. She was a vision of loveliness the like of which he had never seen. He'd known since the first time they had made love in the swimming pool that he loved her, and now it was time to tell her.
''Hi, what are you up to?'' he said as he pulled a chair up.
''Pavel, I....I......'' she burst into tears.
''What? What's the matter.''
''This morning I was sick so....'' she couldn't finish her sentence
''Did you eat something dodgy,'' he asked.
''No. I'm pregnant.''
Pavel thought for a moment as the shock rolled over him. ''That's the most fantastic news I've ever heard in my life,'' he said, as he beamed at her.
''Really?'' she said wiping away her tears
''Yes. I love you, Ella. I would give up everything I have to be with you. And now you're carrying our baby. My God, that's such fantastic news, I can't tell you.''
''But I thought you might think it was too early and be angry or worse want me to have an.......''
''Never,'' he interrupted. ''I want you to marry me.''
*****
Pavel sat in his car and looked across at the house he was about to visit. It was a mansion behind a high wall and wrought iron gates. There was a security guard sitting in a wooden hut just inside the gate. He drove up to the gate and waited for the guard to come out.
''My name is Pavel Belyakov, I have come to see Mr. Rasmussen. Please tell him I have come on behalf of Abram Volkov.''
The guard went away and didn't appear again. The gate swung open, and Pavel drove up to the house. It was a large house set in it's own grounds. A tall man opened the door.
''I'm Stephan Rasmussen, the guard told me you have come on behalf of Mr Volkov.''
''Yes sir. My name is Pavel Belyakov. Mr. Volkov asked me to come and have a word with you about the property deal.''
''I told Mr Volkov that his offer wasn't good enough, I was expecting him to improve it or tell me he no longer wanted to buy the property.''
''Mr. Rasmussen, do you think I could come in for a minute and explain to you Mr Volkov's position.''
Rasmussen motioned with his arm for Pavel to enter the house, and he did so. Inside it smelled of fresh bread, and it made Pavel's stomach rumble. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was now seven in the evening.
''Please sit down, Pavel,'' Rasmussen said when they had entered the sitting room. Pavel sat on the couch and Rasmussen on an armchair. The room was cozy, and Pavel noticed pictures of young children on the mantle above the fireplace. ''How can I help you,'' Rasmussen continued.
''I have come to break your legs and frighten your wife and children so much, they will convince you to do anything I ask,'' Pavel said.
Rasmussen jumped up. ''What? I'm calling the police.''
''Please sit down, Mr. Rasmussen. That was supposed to be the reason for my visit. I have decided on a change of strategy.''
Rasmussen sat back down and looked at Pavel. ''What the hell are you talking about?''
''There is a beautiful smell of bread here and from that, I deduce that your wife is at home.''
''Yes she is, but leave her out of this. I don't trust you.''
''Please bring her here. I promise I will not move from this sofa. I want to tell you both something.''
Rasmussen got up, walked to the door and called for his wife. After a minute, a beautiful woman appeared. She had dark hair, round eyes and a kind face. ''Stefan, what is it? I'm right in the middle of....'' She stopped in mid sentence when she saw their guest. ''Hello. Sorry, I didn't see you sitting there,'' she said as she walked to Pavel and shook his hand.
''Sit down my love, Mr. Beljakov has come to tell us something, although I have no idea what.''
Pavel waited until she was sitting. ''As I explained to your husband, the original reason for my visit this evening was to physically hurt your husband, and frighten you and your children.'' Mrs. Rasmussen put her hand to her mouth and looked at her husband.
''It's okay, I think he means well, although I wish he would get to the point.''
''The point is: in the past, I worked for Mr. Abram Volkov in the real estate business. I was his henchman.'' Mrs. Rasmussen gasped and moved closer to Stefan. ''Mr. Abram does not do business fairly. He frightens people into selling their properties to him a lower prices than the market value. In the past, it was me who frightened the people on his behalf. Now I have my own business, and I do not use scare tactics.'' He looked at the Rasmussen's and noted how intently they were listening to him. ''I am very ashamed of myself for some of the things I have done, but today it all stops. I promised Mr. Volkov I would do one more job for him, and that was to frighten you two. I understand you were in negotiations with him for the sale of an apartment block in Manhattan?''
''Yes. My wife's mother has recently died and left us Norfolk Towers. It's got one hundred and twenty apartments. I am an industrialist, I run factories, and my wife is a dentist.'' He looked lovingly at his wife, before continuing. ''We have no understanding of real estate, and we decided to sell the building. Mr. Volkov contacted our agent, and we had a meeting, during which we both took a dislike to him and his offer.''
Pavel nodded, I understand. ''As I have explained I was sent here to persuade you to sell to him. Mr. Volkov is a very dangerous man and a very bad man. I believe he will send someone else to persuade you, once he realizes what I have done. I would, therefore, advise you to go to the police and tell them he is threatening you. Please do so for you own sake.''
Mr. and Mrs. Rasmussen looked at each other dumbfounded. ''Thank you Mr. Beljakov. We will do so, and we will have Mr. Volkov spoken to. Fortunately, my wife's brother is well placed to deal with this matter on our behalf. He is district attorney.''
''Excellent. Then I will be off. I am sorry I have ruined your evening, but I wanted to warn you who you are dealing with.''
''Thank you,'' Mrs. Rasmussen said. ''Please wait here.'' She got up and left the room.
''Do you want to buy it?'' Stefan asked.
''I would be very interested in making you a reasonable offer. One to our mutual satisfaction. Perhaps I can ask my secretary so set up a meeting with you and your agent.''
''Alright. I will do so.''
Mrs. Rasmussen reappeared holding a parcel. ''Here, please take this. Fresh bread. It's much better for you than all the rubbish they sell in the stores.''
Pavel looked at her and noted how lucky Stefan was to have landed himself such a beautiful and intelligent wife.
*****
Ella stepped into the bath in Pavel's house and submerged herself in the warm water. It was a large bath, and she could almost swim in it. When she bobbed back up again, she opened her eyes and looked at her belly. In her fourth month, it was swollen, and she loved how it looked. Her breasts were also bigger and tender to the touch. She loved the changes her body were going through, if only the morning sickness would stop.
When she was finished, she got out, dried herself and put on a soft white robe. She walked into the bedroom and lay on the bed. She had never known such luxury. The bed was bigger than her bedroom at her parent's, and the bedroom was almost bigger than their whole apartment. She felt so lucky. She was pregnant by a man she loved and who loved her. Unlike most of her friends, she wouldn't have to worry about money.
She was just dozing off when the phone rang. She picked it up, hoping it would be Pavel. He should have been back half an hour ago.
''Hello,'' she said. There was a long silence. ''Hello.''
''So he does have a bitch,'' the person at the other end said. He hung up.
Ella began to shake as she realized what the man had said. She instinctively put her hands to her belly in an act of protection. Where was Pavel, she thought. Five minutes later she breathed as sigh of relief when she heard the front door.
*****
''How was your flight?'' Ella asked the father of her child.
''Long and uncomfortable,'' he replied.
''So why was it so uncomfortable?''
''Firstly, because you weren't with me and secondly, a toy elephant kept poking me in the leg. Really, I'll have to have a word with the guys that load the plane with the stuff for the orphanage. They forgot to leave room for me this time.''
''Well you usually don't fly with all the toys, I suppose they forgot. Please Pavel, be careful, I am worried sick about you. I can't sleep for worry.''
''You know what we discussed. You will be safe at your parents'' Stay there until I come for you. I'm sorry you are involved in this, but nobody threatens the woman I love. I will put an end to in once and for all.''
''Oh my God, please don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed. I couldn't bear to lose.......''
''Ella, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen. I will be back in a few days. Get some sleep and look after our child.''
Pavel put the cellphone back in his pocket and walked out of the airport.
''Hello Pavel,'' Lilia said, holding a broom in her hand.
''Lilia, come here,'' Pavel said as he held out his arms. He hugged the sixty-three-year-old woman who looked after his apartment in his home town of Sochi. ''Thank you for looking after the place. It's a long time since I have been here.''
''It's my pleasure, and it's so nice to see you. I have stocked the fridge and made the bed.''
When Lilia left, Pavel looked around. He'd kept the small apartment he'd managed to buy after he'd left the army. He took a photo from the sideboard and looked at it. It was taken in Chechnya. Abram was in the middle, in his officers uniform and Pavel, and a few comrades were huddled around him. Pavel didn't want to remember his time there. It had been the most brutal of wars, and he'd considered himself lucky to escape with his life. Unlike a lot of his comrades, he'd been able to come home. His thoughts turned to Nikolai. Now he was going to avenge his unnecessary death.
Pavel showered and drank some coffee. When the taxi arrived, he was sitting on the wall in the street outside his apartment. He'd gone out early to get a feel for the place. It hadn't changed much at all. Everyone still hung their washing from wires on their balconies and the kids still rode around on rusty old bicycles.
The taxi, a battered Lada, arrived and took him to Gagarina Street, block 18. He got out and looked up at the dilapidated balconies. Some of them had been repaired and some of them looked as thought they were ready to fall down. He went into the building and climbed to the third floor.
''Katya,'' he exclaimed when the old woman opened the door.
''Pavel, my dear boy. How long it is since I saw you, How are you?''
''I'm really well. How are you?''
''Come in and I will give you a long list of my ailments,'' she chuckled. Inside it was a typical Russian apartment. A small corridor with a kitchen to the right and a living room to the left. At the end a bathroom and a single bedroom.
''This apartment hasn't changed at all,'' he remarked.
''No. I wanted to renovate it, but I only have a small pension. Now I'm too old to bother,'' she said as she showed him into the tiny sitting room.
''Please Katya, sit down. I'm afraid my visit today is not going to be a pleasant one.''
Katya was in her eighties and just five feet two. She had curly gray hair and for her age remarkably fresh looking skin. She was dressed in a flowery summer dress. Outside it was thirty-two degrees and inside the stuffy apartment, not much cooler.
Katya instinctively put her hands up in the air when Pavel pulled out a hand gun and pointed it at her. ''I am sorry to have to do this Katya. But your son is a disgrace. He is one of the richest people in New York, and he's left you living in this hovel. I need him to come home and see what he has done, and there's only one way to do that.''
''Why are you pointing a gun at me and why are you talking so badly about my boy. He's a good boy.''
Pavel ignored her and pulled out his cellphone. When he got up and put the gun to her head, Katja closed her eyes. Pavel dialed the number and waited.
''Hello,'' Abram said.
''Abram, Abram, there's a man here and he's going to kill me. Please help me,'' Katya cried into the phone.
''Abram, you've got two days to get your ugly ass back to Sochi or your mother gets a bullet,'' he said. He put the phone down.
*****
''And what the hell do you want?'' he man said as he looked through the peephole in the wooden door.
''My name is Pavel Beljakov. I'm an old comrade of Dimitry's brother, Nikolai.''
''So what, what do you want?''
''I want to speak to him about his brother.''
''Wait,'' the man said. Pavel was standing outside what looked like a Hacienda. It had high walls on all sides, and they were finished off with red tiles. After a couple of minutes, the maroon door opened, and Pavel saw a man holding a Kalashnikov. He was just about the largest man Pavel had ever seen. ''Follow me,'' he said.
Behind the walls, there was a magnificent ranch house, with white walls, a veranda and red roof tiles. The man showed Pavel inside. They walked to a central courtyard and through a door into a sitting room. Pavel had never seen so many cushions on the giant sofa, and he had certainly never seen a stag as big as the one that hung from the wall above the fireplace.
''Mr Beljakov, please take a seat, I'm Dimitry Ilyin. You wanted to talk about my brother?'
Pavel sat down on the sofa and looked at him. He was about the same size as his brother had been, six five. He also had blonde hair and blue eyes just like Nikolai.
''I know what happened to Nikolai,'' Pavel said.
Dimitry sat down in an arm chair opposite him. ''I'm listening?''
''Before I begin can you perhaps tell me what you thought had happened to Nikolai?''
''All I know is that he didn't come back from Chechnya. His commanding officer Abram Volkov told me he had died at the hands of Chechen rebels when he'd become detached from his unit.''
''It's not true.''
''How do you know and who the hell are you?''
''I served with him in the 2nd Battalion.''
''Then tell me what happened to him?''
''Please remain calm when I tell you this.'' Dimitry nodded. ''He was shot by Abram Volkov.''
''What? How the hell do you know?'' Dimitry said as he jumped from his chair with his fists clenched.
''Nikolai was with me and some other comrades. It was the last night before we were due to leave for home. He and Abram were playing cards, and they were both pretty drunk.'' Pavel looked at Dimitry and thought he saw a tear in his eye. ''The sums they were betting were getting out of hand, and we told them to stop, but they didn't listen. Abram accused Nikolai of cheating and Nikolai got up and slugged him. He knocked him across the room, and Abram lost a tooth. Abram reached for his pistol and shot him. Just like that. No warning, nothing.''
Dimitry let out a roar that hurts Pavel's ears. ''And why did you keep silent about it for so many years?''
''We were all young and scared. Abram was well connected in the army and at home. He had some pretty powerful friends. It was brushed under the carpet, and we all went about rebuilding out lives.''
''Are you telling me, that but for Abram Volkov, my brother would have been alive today?''
''Yes, as I said it, was the evening before we were due to travel home.''
Dmitri got up and walked to a cabinet in the corner of the room. When he opened it, Pavel saw an arsenal of weapons he didn't like the look of. ''One more question before I make preparations to blow his head off. Why should I believe you?''
''Please come with me, if you would be so kind,'' Pavel said as he stood up and headed for the door. They crossed the courtyard again, and Dimitry nodded to the man to open the door. When they were on the street, Dimitry saw two men leaning against his wall. ''Alexander, Sergei, come over here,'' Pavel shouted. The two men dropped their cigarettes and stamped on them. ''Would you please tell this man who killed Nikolai.''
''Abram Volkov,'' they said in unison.
Pavel handed Dimitry a note. He looked at it. ''What is this?'' he said.
The address at which you will find Abram Volkov. He is on his way over from the USA. Please give him a day or so. And if I may make one request.'' Dimitry nodded. ''Please do not harm Katya, his mother.''
*****
''Pavel thank you for all you have done for my parents,'' Ella said. ''They are proud people, and they took so much persuading to move, I can't tell you. But their house is just right. Detached, not too big. Dad can't get enough of the yard and Mom loves the neighbors. I'll never be able to repay you.''
''You already have,'' he said as he looked down at their tiny daughter.
*****
THE END
The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Octavia’s Story
A BWWM Russian Romance
''Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen,'' the Russian Ambassador to the United States began. ''I am honored to welcome you to the Russian Embassy this evening.” The Ambassador glanced at his most special guests. “I am particularly pleased to be able to welcome you, Mr. President and your lovely daughter, Octavia.''
The President of the US, Daniel Wahlberg, nodded in recognition as the Ambassador continued. ''I am very grateful to you for your support in the initiative our two great countries have embarked upon together. As you all know, terrorism is the number one threat to civilization in modern times. That is why, it is so important that we have managed to agree on terms to set up the Russian - US Initiative to Prevent Nuclear Terrorism. Now I am sure you don't want to hear me talking all evening, so I would just like to say, I hope you enjoy yourselves this evening.''
The Ambassador climbed down from the podium in the Russian Embassy in Washington DC and gratefully accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter.
''Mr. President, as I said in my speech, thank you for attending this evening.''
''Not at all, it is a magnificent initiative that deserves my support. If a terrorist got hold of one of these weapons, it would be the greatest disaster that has ever befallen us.''
Daniel Wahlberg looked at the Ambassador. He didn't like or trust him, but the President was an experienced politician who made everyone feel they were his friend. Stanislav Kuklov was a big man. Probably six feet two and very broad. He had a round face with a scar down his right cheek. His eyes were particularly noticeable because they were gray or very faintly blue if one was being polite. Unlike the President, he had a full head of black hair and sun-tanned skin.
''Mr. President, may I introduce you to my son, Slava. He's over here on vacation.''
''It's nice to meet you, Slava,'' the President said, as he shook the young man's hand.
''The pleasure is mine, sir,'' Slava replied.
''Have you met my daughter, Octavia?'' he said looking at his twenty-year-old daughter.
''No sir, I have not. It is a pleasure to meet you too Octavia,'' Slava said as he lifted Octavia's hand and kissed it.
Octavia laughed at the manner of his greeting; she thought it old-fashioned but extremely quaint. ''I can see you are a perfect gentleman,'' she replied, referring to the hand kissing.
''Ah, where I am from, that is quite normal.''
''Mr. President, shall we leave these two young people to chat? I would like to talk to you about a matter that has been on my mind for some time.'' The President nodded and Slava and Octavia found themselves standing alone.
''If I may say so Octavia, you look quite stunning this evening. I have of course seen many photos of you in the press, but in real you are even more beautiful.''
Octavia looked at him before she replied. He was her age, around twenty, tall and dark, like his father. Unlike his father, Slava was handsome. She took an instant liking to his relaxed manner and blue eyes. When he smiled, it made her want to giggle, like a school girl.
''It's very kind of you to say so. Is it customary in Russia to comment on a ladies beauty so soon after meeting her?''
''If I have offended you, I apologize. It wasn't my intention to....''
''No, you didn't offend me. Your remarks made me feel wonderful. I only ask because it happens so rarely in the US. Mostly people are more interested in criticizing what I have chosen to wear.''
''I have seen your photo in many magazines and newspapers, and I can say, I have never seen you wearing anything I didn't like. It must be tough being the President's daughter. In the US you are akin to royalty,'' Slava said.
''It is not easy, you are right. But I am privileged, and that is something I mustn't take for granted. Most people in the world are less fortunate than me, and I mustn't forget it.''
''That is an interesting comment, one I have often used myself. However, I believe everyone has their problems, and just because they don't have worse problems than others, doesn't make it any easier.'' Octavia was impressed by his thought. He seemed different, someone who rationalized, unlike most people she knew who were uptight and always ready to criticize.
Slava knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn't drag his eyes from her. He loved black women, and he'd read many times about the President's beautiful daughter, but he hadn't realized quite how lovely she was. She was almost as tall as him, which made her five feet ten, although he noticed she was wearing heels. Her hair was combed to one side with long curls hanging down to her shoulder. He had the urge to kiss her neck. It looked so elegant and fragile. She was wearing a satin evening gown and a diamond necklace with matching earrings. He didn't want to look down at her body in case she noticed and moved away to talk to somebody else, but unable to resist, he afforded himself a quick glimpse. He'd seen many pictures of her in various magazines, and what he'd liked most about her, was her beautiful shape. Her breasts looked heavy and inviting, and her hips and bottom were curved just as he liked. All the women back home in his social circle, were tall and slender, with little bust and no hips. He was bored by them. Octavia was a real woman with all the attributes he craved. In fact, he would never admit it, but whenever he'd seen her picture in a magazine or newspaper, he'd stare at it for as long as he could.
''So what do you do Slava? I mean for a living?''
''My father wants me to be a career politician or a diplomat like him. I am studying politics and economics at Moscow University.'' Octavia noticed how his expression had changed when he'd mentioned his father's expectations.
''Your father wants you to be a politician. Is that what you want as well?''
''No I want to sail,'' he said as his eyes lit up and his smile returned. ''I love yachts, or, in fact, any boat. Most of all I would like to sail around the world and design breathtaking yachts.''
''And why don't you do that?'' Octavia asked. ''Sorry, that was rude of me,'' she added quickly. ''I'm afraid I already know the answer. You see I'm in the same boat,'' she stopped at the unintended pun, and they both laughed. ''I mean my life seems to have a similar pattern. I'm studying law at Harvard. But I really just want to be a writer.''
''Really? What kind of things do you want to write?''
''Romance books. I love getting lost in silly romances. Please don't tell anyone, though. If it got out, the press would call me a lightweight.''
''I would never think you a lightweight, whatever you did,'' he said. He was mortified to feel himself blush.
Octavia noticed, and she leaned to him. ''That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you so much.''
*****
''Hi Slava. How are you?'' Octavia asked as he appeared on her laptop. He looked every bit as handsome as he'd been when they'd met just a few short days before.
''I'm well, how are you? I can see you perfectly. Skype is amazing isn't it?''
''Yes. Did you get back from the US okay?''
''It's a long way and a long flight, but I managed. I read some books and looked at a few magazines. You were in one of them.''
''Oh really? What was I doing?''
''You were interviewed about what it's like to be the daughter of the President of the US. It was interesting to read, especially now I have met you in person. I liked the photos too.''
''Was I standing in front of a Christmas tree?''
''Yes that's the one. Standing in front of a Christmas tree with a red hat on. A bit like one of Santa's helpers,'' Slava joked.
''Thanks,'' she replied ironically. There was a pause in the conversation and then they suddenly tried to tell each other the same thing. ''Sorry Slava you go first,'' she said.
''I just wanted to say what a lovely evening I had at the Russian Embassy with you.''
''I enjoyed it very much as well,'' Octavia said. She wasn't wearing any of her expensive jewelry as she sat in her room at Harvard, but Slava found her just as stunning.
''Octavia?'' he said as if he were going to ask her something of the utmost importance. '' What are you going to do when this semester ends in June?''
''I don't know, I guess my parents will have all sorts of tasks lined up for me. Why do you ask?''
''Because I wanted to invite you onto my boat for a few days.''
''Oh that would be fantastic,'' she said spontaneously. ''But hang on,'' she said suddenly realizing something, ''I don't know if my security will allow me to travel to Russia and get on a boat before they have checked it out thoroughly.''
''That's a good point. I didn't think of that. I suppose you have far more security than me, after all you are the President's daughter. I'm just the son of an Ambassador.''
''It's a perfect pain in the butt, all this bodyguard stuff. I can't move without someone watching me.''
''I tell you what, I'll charter a yacht in the US, and we will sail along the Eastern Seaboard. Your security will be able to follow at a discreet distance, and they'll be much more accommodating of the idea if you are in the US.''
''That would certainly help. Oh, I'll really look forward to that. Thank you for asking me. I took a boring exam today, and I'm not sure if I passed, so you have brightened up my day no end.''
''Who needs stupid exams. You can sit on the boat and write your first novel while I sail us around. That sounds idyllic doesn't it.''
''Yes it does. How cruel reality is.''
*****
Octavia stood on the quay at the New York Yacht Club and watched Slava carry her bags on deck. ''It looks like you chartered a floating palace,'' she commented.
''She's a sixty-five feet motor cruiser. Six bedrooms and more luxury than enough,'' he shouted as he walked up the gangplank. The harbor was full of expensive boats, but it seemed Slava had managed to get his hands on the largest of them. Octavia watched him. His legs were long and thin in his white jeans. He was wearing a blue shirt that made him look every bit the sailor. His boar shoes were navy with white souls.
''Why do women always need so many clothes,'' he asked as he came back for the final two bags. ''You're going to be wearing shorts most of the time or swimwear. But I hope you didn't forget your cocktail dress,'' he joked.
''I know it seems like a lot, but you never know who we will bump into when we put into harbor. I am a terribly important woman don't forget,'' she jested.
''What makes you think we'll put into a harbor, maybe I'll turn into a horrible pirate and keep you hostage on the high seas.''
''I couldn't think of anything better,'' she quipped, ''but I think my bodyguard may have something to say about it.''
Slava looked at her and smiled. When she smiled back, there was a moment. A moment when they knew what was going to happen on the yacht and were looking forward to it.
''Has my bodyguard spoken to you?'' she asked.
''Yes, he's briefed me. We are to stay in US waters, and we're not to exceed twenty knots, so he can easily keep us in his sights.''
''Okay. Then when are we leaving?''
''As soon as I have put your extensive baggage into your bunk.''
An hour later, Octavia was standing at the bow of the boat as they set off. It was a beautiful day without much wind. Octavia hadn't done much sailing in her life, and she was slightly apprehensive about being sea sick. She'd put on a pair of white shorts and pink blouse. Her hair was tied in a pony tail and she'd added just the miniMum amount of makeup. As Slava looked down at her from the bridge, he felt a feeling he had never felt before. It was a fluttering feeling that burnt right to his core.
When they left the harbor, the yacht began to sway gently. Octavia was perfectly at ease, and she sat down, tossed her head back and looked at the summer sky. Her thoughts began to wander to Slava. She liked him more than any man she had ever dated, she thought. He was handsome and charming, and she was convinced she was about to find out how good a lover he was. She knew her parents wouldn't approve if anything came of their relationship. They wanted her to marry an all-American boy, and preferably one with a political career ahead of him.
''Hey, come up here and keep me company,'' Slava shouted when he saw Octavia lay down. ''You don't think I'm going to stay here and drive all the time without having the benefit of your company, do you?''
She laughed and got up. She walked up the narrow staircase and onto the bridge. There were hundreds of dials, and a few screens on a huge dashboard in front of Slava, but she didn't know the faintest thing about how any of them worked. Slava was sitting in a Captain's chair. In front of him was a wheel and what seemed to be a lever that made the boat go faster or slower.
''Come here,'' he said as he jumped out of the chair. ''Sit here and take over.''
''I can't possibly do that,'' she complained.
''Nonsense, you can drive a car can't you?''
''Yes but....''
''Well this is the same, just a bit slower. Octavia sat in the chair and held onto the wheel.
''Now push that lever forward gently,'' he said. She complied, and the boats engines began to roar. As their speed increased, he looked at her. ''Shall we throw your body guard?''
''If we do they'll only send someone to get me and the trip will be over. Do you know they're a real pain? Do you remember what you said to me, that evening in the Embassy?''
''About people's problems?''
''Yes.''
''Well I've thought about it, and you are right. I feel trapped. I hate what I'm doing, and I hate being watched all the time, especially by a media that doesn't understand that when they print bad things about me, it hurts.''
''I understand,'' he said, as he watched her face become sorrowful.
''I never wanted to go to Harvard, and now I'm there, I actually hate it more than I thought possible. Most of all, I hate what I'm studying,'' Slava put his hand on hers in a show of solidarity. Much of what she was saying applied equally to him. ''I've spent hundreds of evenings sitting in front of my books wishing they would go away,'' she continued. ''I have zero interest in the law, and even less interest in the type of people I'm studying with. Most of them are pretentious and shallow,'' Slava thought he saw a small tear in the corner of her eye. ''My parents are control freaks who think I should only marry a politician. I really don't think I can stand many more years in Washington. It's such a shallow existence.''
''Octavia,'' he said, as she quickly gathered the tear she thought he hadn't seen. ''I really like you. You know that don't you? I don't just want to be friends with you. I want more.''
She looked at him and ran her palm over his cheek. ''And I like you very much too and I have no intention of just being friends. You are far too handsome for that.''
Slava put his hand onto hers and pulled the lever she was holding back until it would go no further. The boat slowed, and eventually the engines cut. All they could hear was the water lapping under the boat and the odd seagull. ''What did you do that for? We're just drifting now,'' she said.
''Then let's do something about it. Pull that lever there,'' he said pointing to a long lever against the wall, to the side of the Captain's chair. Octavia leaned across and pulled it. There was a loud sound at the bow and stern of the boat and Octavia realized that she had just lowered the anchor. ''There, we won't move far now. We're about three miles off the coast and perfectly placed to pull into to Gladesville harbor for the night.''
''Why have we stopped?'' she asked.
Slava didn't speak. He leaned to her and kissed her. When Octavia stood up, he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. She put her hands around his neck and held onto him. ''Oh, I've wanted you to do that since the moment I saw you,'' she said, when their kiss finished.
''Me too. I have just kissed the daughter of the President of the United States, and she tastes wonderful,'' he said as he threw his arms up in the air like a soccer player who had just shot the winning goal in the World Cup. ''Come with me,'' he added. He took her hand and led her down some steps to the lounge. It had a gold ceiling and a floor made of beautifully polished wood. There were gold colored sofas down both sides, and high windows, through which it's occupants had a superb view of the ocean. He went down another flight of stairs and through a narrow door. It was the master bedroom, and even Octavia, a woman accustomed to luxurious surroundings, gasped.
The bed stood in the middle of the room, and it was round. Above the bed, there was a glass roof that looked up to the sky. The room was mostly blue. It had a blue carpet, blue pillows and a blue counterpane. On the walls, there were murals of dolphins and whales that were punctuated by small portholes.
Slava pushed Octavia onto the bed, and as she lay down, he straddled her midriff. When she looked up at him, she saw a look of extreme concentration as he put his hands to the buttons on her blouse. When he'd opened two buttons, he leaned down to her and whispered. ''I've been watching you. No, in fact, I'd call it stalking you.''
''What do you mean?''
''I have countless magazines at home. Not because I like the magazines, but because they contain pictures of you.''
''Why on earth would you do that?''
''Two reasons. First, I think you are the most gorgeous woman alive, and I can't get enough of looking at you,'' he said. He returned to unbuttoning her blouse.
''You forgot the second point,'' she reminded him.
''Despite all the material on the internet that a man could use to satisfy his urges, I am proud to say that I had no use for the internet whatsoever.''
''Do you mean you used my photo's to masturbate?'' Octavia said, not knowing quite what to think.
''Plainly put, but correct,'' he said.
''I'm not sure if I should be flattered or shocked.''
''Dear Octavia, I am certain it is only modesty that prevents you from thinking about images of yourself, but I can tell you that in the world, there will be thousands of men who look at your picture everyday while pleasuring themselves.''
A strange image flashed across her mind. ''But you are the only one who will ever have me in real life.'' She reached up and pulled him down to kiss her. Her tongue tasted sweet as it found his. Her lips were soft. As they kissed, Octavia ran her hands up and down his back, feeling how strong his muscles were. He pulled away and put his hands on her blouse again. He popped the remaining buttons open and watched as her blouse fell open. He'd been right in his appraisal of her photos; she did have a large bust. He put his hands on her bra and felt how full her breasts were, and how her erect nipples stuck into the material. He sat on her and looked down as he undid his shirt. When it landed on the floor, Octavia sat up and was on him with her mouth. She kissed each nipple gently as she smelled his intoxicating scent. Her hands rubbed over his solid chest and down over his six pack. When she reached the bottom of his stomach, she pushed her hand inside his pants and felt for him. She found his warm shaft and felt how hard it was.'' That must be painful all squashed up like that,'' she said as her hands reached for his belt. She undid it so expertly that Slava wondered how many times she had done it before. In no time, his zipper was open, and her hand was on him again. She pushed his shorts down a little and pulled his penis out. As she looked down, she could see a tiny drop of pre-come glistening back at her. She caught it on her index finger, looked him in the eyes as she opened her mouth and tasted it.
It was a gesture that drove him wild. Before he pushed her back down, onto her back, he unfastened her bra and took if off. When she lay back, his tongue found a nipple and licked over it. Her nipples were hard and sticking out in a most seductive way. Slava liked women with big nipples and big breasts and he had been rewarded. He rocked back and looked down at the two mounds that seemed to be inviting him to play with them. He put a hand on each and rubbed his thumbs over the hard buds at their center. Octavia groaned as his caresses shot wave after wave down to her damp center.
He stayed where he was and began to unfasten her shorts. When he was ready to open the zipper, he lay to one side of her, and slowly pulled it open. He put his hand inside and discovered she wasn't wearing panties. His hand went straight onto her pubic hair. He pushed a little further letting his hand slide over her moist lips. His fingers played in the folds of her vulva, and he leaned over and kissed her again. She kissed him like he'd never been kissed before. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth and found every crevice of his mouth. As he fingered her, he heard her breathing change up a gear. She was finding it increasingly difficult to bear his insistent fingers without crying out. He stopped and pulled his hand from her. She almost came when he licked her juices from his hand and smiled at her.
Now he wanted to taste her for real. He got up, and tugged her shorts down over her ankles, and let them drop onto the floor. Still standing, he put his hands on her knees and pushed her legs open. When he saw her womanhood, his cock jerked in anticipation. When he lowered himself between her legs, the fist thing he noticed was the beautiful aroma of her excitement. The second thing he noticed was how excited she was. Her lips were wet and open for him. When his tongue landed on her most sensitive spot, Octavia screamed out and pulled his hair. He planted his mouth on her and let his tongue go to work as he reached up and squeezed a breast. She took hold of his hand and pushed it into her soft flesh.
A moment later, it was too much for her, and she cried his name as her back lifted from the bed, and her groin thrust into his mouth. Slava licked hungrily at her fountain as she trembled, helpless and wanton.
''Come up here,'' she said when her orgasm had subsided. She pulled him to her and urged him to lie on top of her and kiss her. His penis was sticking out of this pants and pushing into her belly. It was uncomfortable, and Slav quickly stood up and rid himself of his pants and shorts. Octavia let out a playful whistle when she saw him exposed for the first time. His thighs were strong and hairy, and she marveled at the size of what stood between them. Not just his penis, which was long and thick, but his balls that looked swollen and tight up against his body.
Again he lay between her legs, and again he put his mouth on her. She tried to pull him up because she wanted him to fill her, but he wanted one more taste of her. When he felt her second orgasm coming, he slid up her and entered her. Her scream hurt his ears. She flung her legs around him and clasped her hands onto his hard buttocks. He rode her hard with long powerful strokes as her second orgasm flowed seamlessly into her third. He grunted as he devoured her, splitting her open and making her come time and again. Her dark hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her, framing her face, which was glowing. He kept up his rhythm, leaned down and kissed her hard. She pushed her pelvis up and forward, wanting him to release his seed info her. He grabbed her hands and shoved them up above her, as his body lay fully on her. She gasped under the weight of him and screamed as his thrusts began to hit her clitoris. He closed his eyes and let his other senses take over. The feeling of his penis in her wetness and the smell of her hot body writhing under him. When he felt her begin to tighten again, he pulled himself up and opened his eyes. As he saw her beautiful face, his balls swelled, and he cried out, pumping his thick semen into her. When every drop was spent, he slumped onto her, crushing the breath from her. She put her hand onto his sweaty hair and stroked it.
After an age, it was Octavia who spoke first. ''My God, if we have sex like that every time, I won't ever bother getting out of bed.''
''Just wait til I'm old and gray, and can't get it up. You won't want to stay in bed all the time then.''
''I don't care. I will be old as well. We'll have to make do with cuddling each other to orgasm.''
Her hair was wet and a few strands clung to the sweat on her forehead. He brushed them away, and kissed her there. 'I don't know about you, but I need to sleep a bit.'' Octavia held him as he drifted off. She followed soon after.
They woke two hours later, still clinging to each other. Slava got up and turned on the shower. '' Wanna join me?'' he asked. When Octavia turned away from him, willing him to soap her back, he couldn't resist bending her forward and thrusting himself into her once more.
The next day they lifted the anchor and began to sail into the marina at Gladesville. As they got off the boat, Slava put his arm around her. There was a click as a camera went off.
''That'll be all over the tabloids by tomorrow,'' Octavia said. ''I tell you, it never stops.'' They walked into a bar that served breakfast. It was dark inside and free of prying eyes. The exertions of the previous evening had left them in dire need of food, and they both ordered a large fry up.
''Tell me about your family Slava,'' she asked.
''Are you sure you want to know?''
''Yes. Your father, what's he really like?''
''He's a bastard.''
Octavia looked shocked. ''Do you mean he was born out of wedlock or do you mean he is not a nice person.''
''Both. My father has no idea who his father is, and his mother was a prostitute in St Petersberg. He was put into an orphanage and eventually rose to be where he is today. I don't know how many bones he's broken on the way up, but make no mistake, he is the most brutal of men.''
''Are you scared of him?'' Octavia asked sympathetically.
''Yes a little. He is quite capable of killing his own son if the moods takes him.''
''Surely you don't mean that? Slava that can't be true?''
''Well, I wouldn't bet against it. He always gets what he wants, and nobody stands in his way.''
''And how does your mother put up with this kind of man?''
''She always says yes to him. He's beaten her black and blue too many times for daring to defy him.''
''That's awful. For you both. Have you ever seen him hitting her?''
''Yes.''
*****
Octavia looked at the doctor's face. When he nodded to her, she burst into tears. She been waiting for the test result in a small room in Washington's most expensive private hospital. A nurse came and offered her an handkerchief, she took it gratefully and blew her nose.
''Miss Whalberg, your car has arrived,'' said the hospital manager. He'd been assigned the job of looking after the President's daughter during her short stay.
Octavia didn't want to see her parents, so she had the driver drop her off at Harvard, where she went into her room, closed the door and curled up on the bed. When her sobs stopped, she fell asleep. When she woke, she turned on Skype.
''Hello sweetie,'' Slava said. ''Do you know what time it is here? It's...''
''Slava I've got some very bad news,'' she said stopping him in his tracks. ''I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm pregnant.''
Slava wasn't quite sure he'd heard correctly. ''You're what?''
''Pregnant,'' she sobbed.
''That's great, no it's more than great, it's the best thing ever.''
Octavia was surprised. She'd thought he would be angry and afraid of what it might do to his future. ''Are you sure you're okay with it.''
''Okay? That's a useless word to use under these circumstances. If I weren't thousands of miles away, I'd crack open a bottle of champagne. Oh, Octavia, this is fantastic news.''
''I'm amazed you are so happy. I thought you would be angry and worried about the future.''
''Why? There is nothing I want more than to have you as the mother of my children. You will be a perfect mother. Just one thing, though. We should keep it secret from my father.''
''Okay. But what are we going to do? I'm the President's daughter; I can't be pregnant and unmarried. It simply isn't an option.''
''Sod it. You're not happy at Harvard, and I'm not happy in Moscow without you. I have dreamed about doing this with you. Let's take my boat and sail away. I have more money than we'll ever be able to use in our lives and a great place to live. My yacht. You can write books while I sail us around. I can design yachts and sell the designs via the web. What do you say?''
Slava looked at his computer screen as Octavia fell silent. After two minutes, she responded. ''There will be hell to pay. If I elope with you, my father will be crucified by the press, and he will suffer in the opinion polls. He will send the FBI, and lord only knows who else to find me.''
''Octavia, you are a grown woman living in a free world. Nobody can drag you back to the US against your will. We won't be committing a crime. It's not eighteen hundred.''
*****
''Yes what is it?'' the Ambassador barked as a small fat man entered his office. The Ambassador's office was not as large as he believed his position deserved. His desk was covered in photos of him in various posts he'd been sent to over the years, and there was a Russian flag standing on a pole to the right of his desk.
''Ambassador, it's your son. I have just received notice from the Federal Security Service that he was seen leaving St Petersberg in his boat two days ago.''
''Where was he going?''
''Nobody knows.''
''And I suppose the buffoons don't know where he is now, either?''
''That is correct sir. There is one more piece of information. He was with a woman.''
''What woman, he doesn't have a girlfriend as far as I know. He's too busy trying to finish his studies.''
''The girl's name is Octavia Wahlberg.''
''What? That black girl that calls herself the President's daughter?''
''Yes sir.''
''Get me General Toporov now.''
The man nodded and left the office. Five minutes later the Ambassador's phone rang. It was General Vladimir Topov, head of the Russian Security Service.
''You wanted to speak to me, Ambassador?''
''Yes General. I want you to find my son and bring him back to finish his studies, and then I want you to deal with the woman he has seemingly gone off with. Eliminate her if you have to. Do you understand? There is no way my son will marry an American, let alone a Black American. I don't want her having his children. She' behaves like a prostitute. I hate prostitutes; they are dirty. ''
''Ambassador, the woman to whom you refer, is the President's daughter. We can't do anything about her and your son being together. It's a free world, and they are both consenting adults.''
''Have you forgotten what happened in Moscow in 1991? If you have, then perhaps I should get it put in the newspapers so everybody can read what an unpleasant character you are. Don't you remember those poor girls? They were just innocent students having a good time. When you'd finished raping them, they couldn't walk anymore. Now, what do you say to my request?''
''I will do what I can,'' the General said.
When his phone rang again, the Ambassador swore. This time, it was the President, Daniel Wahlberg.
''Ambassador, my daughter has given her security agent the slip and has been picked up by your son in a boat in Tallinn, Estonia. I will hold you personally responsible for anything that happens to her. I want you to contact your son and tell him to let her come home. Se has her studies to think of.''
''Mr. President, I have no contact with my son. At the moment, I have no idea where he is.'' The Ambassador sighed as if he was already bored with the news. ''No doubt your daughter has led him astray. Much has been written about her, and not much of it good. She likes to, how shall I say it, put herself about a bit.''
''If you are suggesting my daughter had anything to do with this, you are sorely mistaken. Now get her back here or I will call your President and have you sent back to Moscow.''
''Mr. President, nobody threatens me. Even the so called most powerful man in the world. Be careful what you say. As I understand it, you daughter is in a very vulnerable situation at the moment.''
*****
Slava looked out of the bridge window, as he maneuvered his boat out of the harbor in Tallinn. He looked at Octavia and knew he would love her forever. He would tell her when they reached London.
His boat was a sixty-five feet luxury yacht called Serene. It had five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a siting room and a dining room. When servants were on board, they brought the food from the galley to the dining room in the elevator. The bridge where Slava and Octavia were sitting was full of all the latest gadgets.
''So tell me all about what happened?'' he asked.
''It was quite surreal actually. I told my bodyguard I was going to spend the night with a friend. The security team has waited outside friend's houses before while I've stayed the night, and, this time, was no exception,'' Octavia took great pleasure in relating the story of her escape and Slava could see it in her face. ''All I did was go into my friend's house and get out via a toilet window. I got a taxi to the airport, and flew here.''
''No questions asked?''
''No, a few people recognized me, but no body of any importance who could have stopped me.''
''Have I told you, how beautiful you are?''
''Lots of times. But make the most of it. I'll soon have an enormous belly and you won't want to come near me.''
''You're wrong there. You'll be so sexy; I won't be able to keep my hands off you.''
''Where are we going first? I mean we have the whole world to go at,'' Octavia asked.
''I have a surprise for my budding writer. All I'm saying is that we're going to London.''
''Not England, it rains all the time. Can't you take me somewhere warm.''
''Just, believe me, you'll enjoy yourself there.''
''Alright, I'll bow to your superior knowledge. Now can the Captain's assistant get a kiss?''
''And who will you write your first novel about?''
''About a man who is good looking and charming and who any woman could love without fear.''
''Me?''
''Of course, someone like you,'' she laughed.
When the boat pulled into the Thames Estuary, Slava was weary. Octavia had gone to bed some three hours earlier, but he was determined to make it to Milby Marina in London, before dawn. In the dark, one of the busiest rivers in the world is a tricky place to navigate, and despite fatigue, Slava kept his concentration.
Two hours later, the Yacht was safely tied to the dock in London's most exclusive harbor. Slava climbed out of the captain's chair and went on deck to get some fresh air. He was disappointed to see that his yacht wasn't the biggest there. He consoled himself with the feeling it was, at least, the third biggest in one of the world’s richest cities.
The fresh air did him good and he was soon ready to sleep. He hadn't had much time to think about what he and Octavia had done, but he was convinced they had done the right thing. In the bedroom, he quickly undressed. When he slipped into bed, he cuddled up to Octavia, who let out a little hello and promptly fell asleep again. When Slava put his hand on her swollen belly, he knew everything was going to be alright, and he drifted into a deep sleep.
''So, here we are in London, Octavia said, as she poured herself a coffee. What have you got planned for me?'' she asked eager to know what secret Slava had been keeping from her.
''It's twelve o'clock, let me get a shower and then we'll be on our way.''
''Okay, I'm coming to watch you in the shower. Will you,...you know......?''
''If you want me to,'' he said, eagerly.
*****
''Slava, please tell me where we are going. We've been driving for hours.''
The man from the luxury limousine hire company had told Slava he would send his finest limo and driver. It seemed he had kept his promise. They were sitting in a top of the range Mercedes with leather seats, a TV, and mini bar. As Slava sipped his iced water, Octavia eye's drank in the English countryside.
''It's very green isn't it? Quite beautiful. Unlike anything I've seen back in the States.''
''Or in Russia. I suppose it's all the water that falls from the sky. Look at that green field there, it really is bright green,'' Slava replied.
After two hours, they arrived at their destination. Octavia was extremely puzzled; they were in what seemed like a village, in the middle of nowhere. The driver pulled up, got out and opened the door at Octavia's side.
''Slava, if you don't tell me where we are, I'm going to divorce you.'' It just slipped out. A joke, but, nonetheless, Slava heard it and took it as a hint of what their status really should be.
''We've come to look at a museum.''
''You dragged me all the way here, to some stuffy old museum,'' she complained.
'No. Not some stuffy old museum. Here read the sign.''
''Jane Austen Museum,'' Octavia read out loud. Then she suddenly realized. The home of one of the greatest writers of romantic fiction ever to have lived. ''Oh Slava, thank you. How thoughtful of you. I'm ashamed of myself for being so grumpy.'' When she began to weep with joy, Slava took her in his arms and held her tightly.
''For you my dear. May you become the Jane Austen of our time. Come on let's go and see what we can learn.''
They learned that they were in the village of Chawton in the County of Hampshire. They also found out that Jane Austen had spent the last eight years of her life in the house and had written three novels. They spent two hours reading everything they could and soaking in the atmosphere. Slava observed Octavia as she looked around the tiny rooms. It was as if she were in a trance, lost in a world she dreamed of. He only hoped he could provide her with a lifestyle where she could relax, be calm and have the clarity of thought to do what she wanted to, write.
''That was fantastic,'' she exclaimed as they got back into the limousine.
''Yes, we've got a lot of history in this country. Next time you should go to Stratford upon Avon, the home of William Shakespeare,'' the driver said.
''Oh, that would be lovely,'' she said still entranced by the world of Jane Austen.
Slava didn't like the look of the man lurking next to Serene when they arrived back at Milby Marina. He put a protective arm around Octavia and hurried her into the boat.
''I'll be back in a minute,'' he said. He walked back down the gang plank and up to the man.
''Who are you,'' he asked directly in Russian.
''I'm Vasiliev Moltov. I have a message from your father.''
''How the hell did you find us here?''
''It's not difficult these days to track a boat of this nature, '' he said pointing at Serene. '' All the signals it transmits, you were really easy to find.''
''And what do you want?''
''I work for a man called General Topov head of the State Security Service of Russia. I'm the bureau chief in London.''
''You mean you're a spy.''
''Whatever you want to call it. I work on behalf of the Russian people to ensure a fair world and the safety of our nation.''
Brainwashed was the word that came into Slava's mind. ''So answer my question, what do you want?''
''Your father is worried about you.''
''Then tell him I am fine and leave me alone.''
''It's not quite that simple. Your father has asked me to take the woman you are with, and send her back to the US.''
Slava laughed. ''You are certainly going to have to kill me before you can do that. She is in a delicate state, and if you so much as put one hand on her I will rip you into pieces, here and now.''
''Please calm yourself,'' Moltov said, slightly worried that Slava looked more than a match for him. ''What do they say in English? Ah yes, don't shoot the messenger. Your father has asked me to return the President's daughter back to the US. If you don't comply, I will relay that back to your father, and I will await further instructions.'' His eyes narrowed as he thought carefully about what he was going to say next. ''But your father is very disappointed that you have chosen to run off with an American, and especially one of such note. Your father has little regard for American's as indeed have I. They are trashy, loud and lack sophistication. Given that, it's no surprise that she is pregnant out of wedlock.''
When Slava's fist slammed into Moltov's mouth, he saw a tooth fly out, and plop down into the water below the pontoon they were standing on. Moltov sank to his knees, rolled his eyes and passed out. Octavia, curious to know what Slava was doing, came on deck and looked at the man lying on the ground.
''Slava, what on earth?''
''He's come on behalf of my father. He wanted to send you back to the US. He was rude, so I knocked him out. I think I must have hit him very hard . Indeed, he's lost a tooth.''
''Oh my God,'' Octavia cried. ''They're going to split us up. I can feel it. They want me back in America and you back in Moscow. I'll never see you again. I'm going to call my father and tell him where we are. He'll get someone here to protect us.''
Slava went back onto the boat and took her in his arms ''No. They'll take you from me. I couldn't bear that. We'll leave and go somewhere else.''
''But Slava, if they found us here, they will find us in any other place. At least, my father can keep us safe.''
''Okay. But I want to speak to him as well.''
Octavia opened her laptop and dialed the number. The Presidents secretary answered. ''June it's Octavia. Can I speak to my father?''
''Octavia, where are you, everyone's so worried?''
''I'm fine. Obviously our secret service isn't as fast as the Russians in finding me. I'm safe and well.''
''I'll get him, please wait.''
When Octavia's father came onto the screen, he looked ashen, and Octavia instantly knew that she had caused him a lot of anxiety. ''Hi Dad. Listen I'm.....''
''Octavia for God's sake where are you? Your mother is having a nervous breakdown and me too come to that.''
''I'm fine. I just want to talk to you. If you'll let me.''
''Okay baby, talk. You know we love you more than anything in the world, and we only want the best for you.''
''I know, and I love you guys the same. This is Slava, do you remember him?''
Slava shuffled along the sofa and into the President's view. ''Hello Mr President.''
The President seemed as if he was going to explode into a rage, but he took a deep breath and controlled himself. ''Yes, of course, Slava. I remember. you. I would be grateful if you would please bring my daughter home safely. I could send a few armed men to get her, but none of us want that. Just bring her home, please.''
''Sir, I love your daughter and she loves me.'' Slava was resolute, and it seemed he had no fear of who he was addressing. ''I have all the respect in the world for you. But Octavia and I have taken a decision. Neither of us wants to continue our studies. We are bored stupid by them. We each have a dream, which we intend to follow. We ask your blessing in doing so.''
Again the President drew breath. ''I understand. Maybe if we had all talked about this in the first place, we would have been able to work something out. I am first and foremost worried about her safety. It's a dangerous world, and somebody could quite easily kidnap her. I ask you to think of the consequences of that.''
''Sir, I have done, and I understand.''
Octavia decided to intervene when she noticed her father's voice change tone. It had taken on a more conciliatory tone, one that he used when he wanted to reach an agreement.
''Dad, what we are saying is give us a chance. Both of us have enough money, and we have a home. I don't want to be part of the political world. I'm artistic, and I want to write. Slava wants to sail and design yachts. We're not dropping out. We're just following what we really want to do.'' She paused and decided she would tell him. ''I'm having a baby Dad. You and Mum are going to be grandparents.''
The President was torn between congratulating her and flying into a rage. ''That's great, honey,'' he said. ''Listen how about we make a compromise. Come home with Slava, just for a few days if you like. Come and talk to us. Tell us what you want, and I promise I'll support you in any way I can.''
''No tricks?'' Octavia said suspiciously
''None at all. Come home, talk to us and if you want, go off again on your boat. But one thing I will not budge on, is the security aspect. We'll talk about that at the time, though.''
Octavia looked at Slava, and he nodded. ''Okay sir. Octavia will come home for a few days, and I'll join her when I can.'' When the President had gone, Octavia was angry with Slava. ''What do you mean? I'm not going anywhere without you.''
''Listen to me. My father will have you killed. I am convinced of it, after the visit we had. The last thing he wants is to see is me marry an American. He hates Americans and everything they stand for.''
''Jesus. Do you really think he'd......'' she stopped in mid sentence as he nodded. ''And how the hell would he kill me? You heard Dad; he wants to help us with security. Your father would never get near us.''
''Did you see how they murdered Andrey Yevchenko? They put poison in a cup of tea. Or what about Yuri Davydov? They stuck the poisonous umbrella into his ass when he was walking across London Bridge. There are so many examples where good people have been murdered, and nobody noticed the killer.'' He looked at her, and the distress in her eyes, and he decided there and then he was going solve the situation. ''Listen, I want you to go back to your parents. They are good people; they will let you do as you want once it all been discussed. I'm going to St Petersberg.''
''No you mustn't, what if I never see you again?'' Octavia said, now more worried than ever.
''I need a few days there. I will have my father returned to Russia in disgrace, and we will be able to get on with our lives.''
''And how do you propose to do that?''
*****
Slava sat in an office overlooking the River Neva in St Petersberg and looked at the young man in front of him.
''Slava, it's so good to see you. We haven't seen each other since graduation day at school. How are you?''
''Igor, I am very well. There are things happening in my life now that are so fantastic; I can't begin to tell you.''
''You must. How about dinner this evening?'' Igor asked. Igor Krasnoyarsk was born on the same day and in the same year as Slava. They went to school together and had been inseparable friends. As often happens, their lives took them separate ways. Igor went to work as a trainee journalist in St Petersberg and Slava to University in Moscow.
''You know why I'm here, don't you Igor?'' Slav said, in a somber tone of voice. Igor was just five feet five but handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes.
''Yes, it's time isn't it?''
Slava nodded. ''Yes it's time. The day has arrived, as I knew it always would. He has to be stopped. My mother is exhausted by his regular beatings, everyone who works for him is afraid of him, and now he has turned on me.''
''Okay, I understand,'' Igor said as he stroked his stubble. ''How do you want to proceed?''
Slava laughed. ''You're the investigative journalist. I thought you might tell me. But as you ask, here are the names and addresses of five people who can bear witness against him.''
''Do you think they would testify against him. Wouldn't they be scared?'' Igor asked.
''They will be scared, but they are old now and have little to lose. I will provide them all with the necessary security. And besides, the State Security Service won't protect my father once the accusations come out. They'll drop him like a piece of hot coal.''
''Alright, I'll go and interview them all. What about other evidence?''
''I have a weapon, which the witnesses say was used at the time and I have a shirt.''
''A shirt?''
''Yes, the one worn at the time. It's got blood on it.''
''Great. How did you come across these articles?''
''They were sent to me by an old woman called Petrova Abdulova. I also have the letter she wrote at the time.'' Slava placed a bag on Igor's desk. ''All the things you need are inside the bag. I know you will do me proud, Igor. Thank you for your friendship over the years, and I do hope our paths will cross a bit more often that they have in the last couple of years.''
''Let's chat about old times this evening. I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven.''
*****
''Octavia, oh Octavia'' her mother cried as the bullet proof limousine, dropped her outside the White House. ''What have you been up to, we were worried sick about you. Promise me never to run away like that again.''
Octavia didn't say anything. She looked at her mother, the First Lady. A woman of average height and above average looks. A brunette, not a hair out of place, she had married Octavia's father when she was just nineteen. She was more popular than her husband among the public, because she was always on TV raising funds for children. ''Your father has canceled all his appointments this afternoon. We're going to sit down and have a nice chat.''
Octavia hoped the 'nice chat' didn't turn into a monolog lecture. She went up to their apartment and into her room. It was predominately white and full of cuddly toys that well-wishers had sent her at various points during her life. The journey from London had tired her, and she undressed, had a shower and slipped under the sheets. She woke when her mother called her at around three pm.
''Octavia,'' her father exclaimed. ''It so lovely to see you. Come here.'' He took his daughter in his arms and hugged her. She was surprised how warm he was towards her. They were in the sitting room in the Presidential Suit in the White House. It wasn't a large room; it was cozy. There was a large round window in one wall, and double doors in the other wall leading to the rest of the suit. There were two sofas, opposite each other and a glass table between them. Octavia's father sat next to her mother with Octavia opposite them.
''Your mother and I are so happy that you are having a baby. We're really proud of you, and we want to tell you we will give you all the support you need throughout your pregnancy. If you think Slava will be a good father, and you love him, we will support both of you equally.'' He looked at his wife who nodded in agreement. ''Where we do have a concern, is with you traveling around unprotected.''
''Mum, Dad,'' Octavia began. ''I hate Harvard and law. I want to be a writer. I want it so much I was prepared to run away from you. Slava and I have found a way to make our dreams happen. He wants to sail, and I want to write. That's what we'll do. Live on his boat and follow our dreams.''
''Alright, if that's what you want. What about your baby. He or she will have to go to school one day,'' the President asked.
''Of course, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we have our plan, and we're going to follow it.''
''Okay then. Now we understand what you want we can support you. Why didn't you tell us you were so unhappy at Harvard?'' her mother asked.
''Because I was worried what you would think. I could see the headlines. President's daughter drops out.''
''Leave the press to me. When I'm finished with them, they won't dare to mention you anymore,'' her father said.
*****
As he was about to leave for the airport, Slava's phone bleeped. It was an Email. He opened it and read:
Hi Slava, please find attached the first in the series of articles. I hope you like it.
Igor.
Slava clicked on the attachment and began to read.
St Petersberg 2015
Night of Knives - The First In A Series of Articles About The Unsolved Murder of A Woman.
She was a woman in her forties. A woman to whom life had not been at all kind. Neighbors remember her as being slight and extremely pretty. What stood out most, though, to those that are able to recall her, was her kindness. She was willing to help anybody and regularly looked after some of the older women in the street. The street where she lived was a just like most of the other residential streets in St Petersberg, apartment buildings, and play areas. It was a close-knit neighborhood, where people knew each other and took an interest in each other.
You could be forgiven for thinking that the woman in question worked in a local factory or shop, but you would be wrong. Illona Kuklov was a prostitute. On the night of thirteen January 1985, it was bitterly cold, and she had just let her last client of the day out of her apartment. Somewhere around ten pm, there was a scream. It was a scream that makes those I have interviewed about the incident, still have sleepless nights.
When neighbors rushed to her apartment, they found Illona struggling for breath in a pool of her own blood. She had been repeatedly stabbed, and the weapon was still poking from her chest. Illona's murder has remained unsolved ever since, but it shouldn't have. There is more than enough evidence to bring the murderer to trail. Several witnesses, a murder weapon, and a shirt are all pieces of vital evidence that have been ignored by investigators.
This newspaper has uncovered the truth about this gruesome murder, and we are able to reveal exclusively, that the chief suspect in the murder is Stanislv Kuklov, Illona's son. He is better known today as the Russian Ambassador to the United States of America.
Follow each day this week as we exclusively reveal how this man has avoided arrest for so many years and what can now be done to bring him to trial.
Slava shut his phone and smiled to himself as his plane took off towards New York.
*****
''But how do I hold her,'' Slav said as he looked at the tiny bundle in his arms.
''Oh I can see you've got a lot to learn,'' Octavia said as she walked up the gangplank on Serene. ''Bottle feeding and diaper changes, you can learn the lot.''
''Octavia. Come here please,'' he said. As he put his arm around her, he kissed her. ''You have made me so a happy, I can't tell you. She is so beautiful. I'm afraid I will never be able to give her away to another man like your father did on our wedding day.''
''You will if he's as good a man as you,'' Octavia said.
*****
Later that day Slava received a text message from Igor.
''Judge says he's an animal. Gave him thirty-five years.''
*****