Chapter 4

Connie

 

“So tell me, dearie,” Julius broke off a piece of crusty bread. “How long have you been squirming in your panties and groaning for the chance to fuck the hard gorgeous body of Mr. Stuyversant?”

I blushed and made a face of horror and acute awkwardness. I leaned across the table and tried to hush him with a shriveling frown and the force of my gaze. Julius just threw back his head and laughed with glee. It was a hoarse, rasping sound of cheeky delight. He was enjoying my discomfort.

We were seated at an outdoor café on one of the busy streets that made up Moscow’s shopping district, frequented mainly by foreigners. It was cold but the interior of the café was full with regular diners and the other people from the embassy who had journeyed into the city with us. Still, Julius had a loud voice, and the idea that someone inside might overhear him mortified me.

“It’s not like that,” I hissed defensively.

Julius’ eyes became sly. “Tell me.”

“No.”

He gave a camp little flick of his wrist and then said in a louder voice: “Tell me how long you have wanted to fuck Mitch Stuyversant.”

I snatched at his hand.

“Julius! Jesus, keep your voice down.”

“Tell me…” his tone became a threat.

I sighed. My shoulders slumped. I hung my head a little to the side and surrendered. “Since about fifteen minutes after I met him,” I confessed, shamefaced.

Julius’ eyes were twinkling like bright little stars. “Powerful and successful men,” Julius sighed with dreamy longing. “If there is a stronger sexual stimulant for us girls, then I don’t know what it is.” He reached for another piece of bread and held it to his mouth, then stopped.

“Have you fucked him yet?”

“No!”

“But you’re going to, right?”

I thought about that. I remembered the moment in Mitch’s room just this morning when my hand had been only tantalizing inches from his cock. I shook my head. “No,” I said sadly.

Julius looked horrified. “You’re not going to throw that tight firm young body of yours at him?”

I made a plaintive fluttering gesture of helplessness with my hands. “I want to…” I said, puzzling through my thoughts as I was speaking. “But there’s a bigger picture to consider.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then it must be his age that’s stopping you. He’s so much older.”

“He’s not,” I said a little more hotly than I had intended and then felt compelled to explain. “Okay, he’s older. He’s forty-eight.”

“And you’re…?”

“Twenty. Almost twenty-one. That’s not such a big age gap, you know. Plenty of rock stars and businessmen have younger girlfriends. And besides, I happen to be attracted to older men. They’re more mature, more worldly. They’re more in control, and they take charge. That’s what I want,” I heard myself speaking and knew that I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to purge myself of all the angst and emotion that had been simmering below the surface before the burden of it broke me.

“You want a rich man?” Julius teased me.

“No. I want a strong man,” I sighed wistfully. “Someone to take care of me, Julius. Someone who will protect me when I need to shelter from the worries of the world and someone I can lean on.”

Julius popped the piece of bread into his mouth and chewed. His eyes were alight with more mischief. I stared down into my coffee cup wondering why I was confessing my most personal problems to this stranger and why doing it felt so liberating.

Julius turned and signaled a waiter. A tall young man came to the table. He had slicked back hair and the first wispy strands of a beard on his chin.

“Can we have some more bread, gorgeous?” Julius asked sweetly and pointed to the empty basket in the middle of our table.

The waiter nodded, made an intelligible grunt. As he walked off, Julius took a long lustful moment to stare at the young man’s butt. When he looked my way again there was a lecherous grin on his lips.

“So Mitch Stuyversant seems the perfect man for you,” Julius brought his attention back to analyzing my problem. “He’s everything you want, and he’s rich and powerful.”

“Yeah,” I lamented.

“But…?”

“But there’s a bigger problem…”

“Which is?”

There was a long silence and a hint of crackling irritation in Julius’ expression. I realized in that moment why I felt so relaxed in his company, and why I had so freely confessed my lust for Mitch. Julius was raw and uncensored. He was forthright, blunt, quirky, crude, and brutally honest. He wasn’t a Washington politician who guarded his words and he wasn’t a threat to my career. He was just himself; brash and abrasive, but also a sweet, caring soul.

“I need money,” I said softly.

Julius became serious. His camp mannerisms drifted away on the cold frigid air. “How much?”

My face became forlorn. “Lots. Fifty-thousand dollars at least.”

“What kind of trouble are you in?”

The bread arrived. As the waiter leaned past us to place the basket on the table, Julius blew the young man a flirtatious kiss.

“Naslazhdat’sya,” the waiter muttered and walked quickly back inside the café. Julius shrugged then fixed me with his gaze.

“Spill,” he demanded.

And so I told him. I told him about my grandmother and the financial trauma she was facing. I told him about my childhood – growing up without my parents – and how I spent my afternoons in the backroom of the bookstore reading everything I could find. I confessed to the guilt I was carrying for leaving my grandmother’s side and moving to Washington, and how I felt I was to blame for her money worries because the downturn in the business had coincided with the time I had moved away. And then, when it was all said and out there, I admitted the biggest secret of all.

“And I can’t just throw myself at Mitch Stuyversant, even if I wanted to,” I said in a tremble. “Because I’m… I’m a virgin, Julius. I wouldn’t even know how to seduce him.”

When I had finished talking I dropped my eyes to my coffee, expecting a gale of riotous laughter. But Julius was silent and when I looked at him at last I noticed the profound change in the way he was gazing at me. It could have been a look of shock, wonder, or incredulity.

Or it could have been a look of sympathetic compassion and new understanding.

“Can you get a personal loan and then give the money to your grandmother?”

I shook my head. “No one will accept me,” I said. “I’m just a temporary assistant to Mitch, filling in for one of his regular staff. This isn’t a full-time job, so no bank will look at me.”

Julius was frowning. He started to say something then bit his tongue.

“What?” I urged.

He shrugged his shoulders and then swished the braid of his ponytail. “You could ask Stuyversant for the money…” he offered.

“No,” I shook my head emphatically. “I’m sure there are laws against that, and even if there aren’t it would be improper.”

I sighed.

Julius sighed.

“I’m fucked,” I said.