I never let unknown local numbers go to voicemail because it could always be someone from work asking me to come in and cover for someone. But I might have to start reconsidering that policy, I realized, when I answered my phone to hear someone distinctly Russian on the other end of the line.

“How the hell did you even get my phone number?” I blurted out in shocked surprise.

“I have my ways,” Nikolai said mysteriously. He sounded slightly sheepish, and I wondered how difficult it had been for him. Should I feel secretly flattered that he had gone to the trouble to look me up? Or should I actually just feel like he was a massive stalker whom I ought to get a restraining order against?

What was it about women and bad boys, though? The thought of his stalker-like tendencies actually kind of turned me on. It at least made me feel desired.

I shook my head and focused on what Nikolai was saying: “I was hoping that you would let me take you out,” he said. “On a proper date.”

I frowned and sat down on a stool, twirling a loose lock of hair around my finger. “What?” I asked stupidly. I couldn’t imagine Nikolai dating. Unless he expected me to go home with him at the end of the night? But he hadn’t so much as tried to hug me after our coffee encounter. What exactly was he playing at? I would give nearly anything to know…

“I’ve rented out this great, historical place—La Champagneria, maybe you’ve heard of it. You go there and buy some tapas and they give you a bottle of cava to go with them.”

“You’ve… You’ve rented it out?” I asked weakly. I’d heard of the place, of course. It was one of the most famous tapas bars in the city, having been in operation for over forty years. It was typically busy as anything, with guests vying for elbow room and spilling out into the street beyond. I could only imagine what it would cost to rent out the place.

But then again, he’d made it clear that money was no object.

And I wondered if that should make me feel cheap. Like, he thought that he could just buy sex with me. But then again, cheap wasn’t exactly the word for it, since again, he was apparently willing to pay a small fortune to get me to go out on a date with him.

I wondered why. Maybe it was just a personal challenge to himself at this point. He could have any woman in the city; there was no other reason for him to be so fixated on me except for the fact that he couldn’t have me.

I grinned a little to myself. I knew I should focus on work, but I, like many other girls, had grown up dreaming of a man who would treat me like a princess. I had long since given up on that illusion (I would be lucky to find a guy who thought romance was cooking dinner for me once in a while), but maybe, just for once, it would be nice to have that illusion. To go out with Nikolai on one fancy date and see what it felt like.

There was no harm in that, right? I didn’t have to have sex with him at the end of the night. There was nowhere that said that he was really buying sex from me; that would be prostitution. No, this was just a date.

“Okay,” I found myself agreeing, aware that the silence had drawn on for too long and that my agreement was too loud. I swallowed hard. “Okay, one date.”

“Good,” Nikolai said warmly. “I’ll pick you up on Tuesday evening at eight. If things go well with the tapas, we’ll head to Apollo.”

“I can’t go out clubbing on a Tuesday night,” I said warningly. “I have classes on Wednesday morning.”

“We’ll see how you feel on Tuesday,” Nikolai said confidently. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help grinning.

“If you’re going to pick me up, I guess you’ll need to know where I live,” I said. I wasn’t sure how I felt about giving him that information, and I was about to suggest that we just meet there.

But Nikolai said, “I already have your address.”

Again, that same, weird shiver ran through me. Stalker or persistent? Where did you draw the line?

“See you Tuesday,” Nikolai said before I could comment. Then, he hung up the phone.

I didn’t know how to dress on Tuesday night. La Champagneria was a pretty casual place, but if Nikolai had rented the whole thing out, maybe there were different rules to it. Mainly because I was still clinging to the idea that the only reason I was going along with this was that I wanted to feel like a spoiled princess for the night. Jeans did not make a girl feel like a princess.

I ended up pulling on a plain black dress and accentuating it with a colorful silk scarf. I carefully pulled up my hair and did my makeup. Then, on second thought, I pulled out the hairdo and left my blonde hair falling around my shoulders. The effect would be better if my hair were longer, but then again, I wasn’t trying to look sexy for Nikolai.

…Was I?

I was glad when Nikolai finally arrived, ending the waiting game. And I was glad that I had worn a dress when I saw Nikolai. He was wearing jeans, but they looked good and probably had some designer label. Between those, the grey shirt, and the charcoal blazer, he looked dangerously sexy. I swallowed hard, wondering if I was still going to be able to keep from going home with him that night.

He was nothing but charming as he led me down to his fancy sports car, opening the door for me and shutting it carefully behind me.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he purred as he started the car.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, blushing. I tried to think of something to say in response. Should I compliment him as well, or would that seem insincere? I thought about it for so long that it would have seemed strange to compliment him. Instead, I cast around for something else to talk about. “This is a nice car,” I said lamely.

I didn’t know anything about cars. 

Nikolai looked over at me, an amused expression on his face. “Thank you,” he said.

That was it.

I swallowed hard, wondering if it was going to be like this all night. Maybe this was why people typically picked up in bars. It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t know how to date; I hadn’t been on a date since my second year of college. I just hadn’t had the time. And it wasn’t his fault either; he didn’t date.

Maybe I should just fuck him straight away, to put us both out of our misery. Or rather, maybe I should tell him I wasn’t feeling well and have him turn the car around. Abort this mission straight away. But there was something cowardly about that, and I didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity to be treated to a nice date with a rich man. It was…an experience, if nothing else.

In fact, our inability to come up with anything to say to one another would just add to the story later, wouldn’t it? I covertly took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing myself to calm down.

My awkwardness carried over to when we actually arrived at the restaurant, unfortunately. “What do you want to eat?” Nikolai asked.

“I thought we were here for tapas,” I replied stupidly.

Nikolai gave me a look. “We are,” he agreed. “But there are different kinds of tapas.” He paused. “Why don’t you tell me this: is there anything that you don’t eat? Anything that you’re allergic to?”

I shook my head. So of course he ordered little fish with crusty bread as the first set of tapas.

I blushed and ducked my head. “I should have mentioned, I don’t really like seafood,” I mumbled.

Nikolai laughed. “All right,” he said. “More boquerones for me!” He flagged down the waiter and ordered something else in rapid Spanish while I blinked at him.

“So you’re Russian, but you speak English and Spanish?” I asked. There, that was a conversation. Finally.

Nikolai looked almost as relieved as I felt, and I wondered whether this was as uncomfortable for him as it was for me. Granted, he at least didn’t look flustered. He looked just as calm and collected as ever. I envied him.

“Well, I grew up speaking Russian, and that’s still mostly what I speak with my uncle and my brothers and my cousins and…various other Russians who live in the city,” Nikolai said thoughtfully.

“Why are there so many of you here?” I couldn’t help interrupting.

But Nikolai didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged. “As I mentioned, my family has business here,” Nikolai said. “Ritmo, for one. A couple other places around the city too. And we do some real estate deals and things like that. Nothing very interesting.”

I frowned at the too-casual way that he said it, wondering if there was something more to it. But the only thing that I could think of that he might be hiding was that he was part of the Russian mob or something like that, and even I wasn’t stupid enough to blurt out a question like that. He would think that I had seen one too many Hollywood movies.

“Anyway, I learned English in school, growing up,” Nikolai said. “My parents always planned to send me here to stay with my uncle, at least for a little while, and they figured that English would go a long way for me. And when I was in high school, I was lucky enough to win a scholarship to go on an exchange to America for six months.”

“Oh,” I said. “And then you learned Spanish while you were living here?” I asked.

“It seemed practical,” Nikolai said, shrugging. “And once you know Russian, every language is easy!”

I laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine.” I paused, my uncertainty coming back. “Not that I really know anything about the Russian language, other than that you write in Cyrillic.”

Nikolai grinned. “It’s tough,” he said. “I still have nightmares about my grammar classes.”

We both laughed, and that seemed to break the ice a little. Soon, we were chatting just as pleasantly as we had been during our coffee meeting the previous week. So when Nikolai asked me back to his place…

“We don’t have to fuck,” Nikolai promised. “But I really do think you would like these paintings that my mother hung in the place.”

I giggled, realizing distantly that I might have had a bit too much cava for the night. “You’re so Russian, bringing up your mother on a first date,” I said.

Nikolai looked momentarily embarrassed and then slung his arm around my shoulders. “Mother is the best,” he said proudly, putting on what even I could tell was a bad impression of a heavy Russian accent. “Girlfriend should be so lucky as to meet Mother.”

I giggled again. “Is that what I am now, your girlfriend?” I asked. Then, I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m a little tipsy,” I admitted.

Nikolai eyed me for a long moment, and I could see something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Something that told me to run, something that told me not to get in that cab with him and go back to his apartment.

But I ignored it, even though I knew where the night was leading.

Sure enough, the door had barely closed behind us at Nikolai’s place before he was pushing me up against the wall, his tongue in my mouth and his hand up the front of my shirt. And despite everything that I had said about not needing distractions, I couldn’t bring myself to push him away.

Instead, I leaned into him, my hands looping behind his neck. I tilted my face to the side to deepen the kiss, allowing him to pillage my mouth, moaning as he tugged my lower lip between his teeth. I could feel my panties dampen, and a hot flush went through me. I shouldn’t feel so embarrassed by this, so naughty, but even though we’d been out for a couple dates—well, one date, plus coffee—this still had all the trappings of a one-night stand. I knew that once I slept with Nikolai, he would cease to be interested in me.

But I still wanted this. And maybe, I reasoned with myself, having a good, quick fuck was exactly what I needed to keep me focused. I could do this, get over the needs of my body, and then forget all about him and the rest of the guys in this city. Just focus on my work.

One night wasn’t that much, in the scheme of things.

So I let him lead me back to his luxurious bedroom, lay me back on the beautiful silk sheets. He was surprisingly tender, kissing his way down the length of my body as he pushed aside my dress to remove inch after inch of skin. I shivered as he came to the apex between my legs, pausing there, his hot breath against my pale pink panties. He looked questioningly up at me, as though waiting for some sign that I was okay with this.

I nodded at him.

It felt almost as though someone else were in possession of my body, and I wanted to blame it on the alcohol that we’d consumed. But I had never felt more sober than I did at that moment, as he lightly kissed the soft skin between my legs. Had never felt so conscious of the way that my body was reacting to someone than I did at that moment, as he pushed his fingers slowly inside of me.

I could feel how wet I was, how ready I was for more, and Nikolai undoubtedly could as well. But he took his time, slowly scissoring his fingers inside of me, making me moan and writhe against the sheets. When I managed to peel my eyes open, blinking down at him, he looked enthralled, his eyes locked on my face, cataloging my reactions. As though those signs of my pleasure might be vital clues for next time.

As though there might be a next time.

I swallowed hard and pushed those thoughts away. That wasn’t what this was about, and I was only going to make myself upset if I got my hopes up for something more.

Finally, Nikolai seemed to think I was ready, and he pulled his body up over mine, slowly sliding into my warmth. His thick girth stretched me, forcing me open in a way that made me breathless. As he rocked his hips, I could feel the slow drag of his member against my walls, and I whimpered, unable to help it. I wasn’t sure what I even wanted: for him to stop and let me just enjoy that fullness for a moment; for him to keep moving at the same pace, rhythmically driving his thick cock into me; or for him to thrust faster and harder, overcome with wild abandon.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, and that seemed to spur him on more, his hips rocking mercilessly against mine. I was so close to coming that I practically sobbed when he pulled out of me. “No, please,” I whimpered.

But Nikolai was far from done. Instead, he merely maneuvered me around, until I was on all fours with my ass in the air. Then, he resumed his punishing rhythm, until I collapsed to my forearms, my face pressed roughly against the sheets and his hand tangled in my hair.

Like this, I could practically feel him pushing against my navel, so deep inside of me that I had never known those spots could be reached. I gasped and pushed back against him, somehow needing more even though I was getting more than I could ever have expected to get.

My pleasure began to build inside of me, white-hot heat erupting in my core and my body practically convulsing. It was as though every nerve ending was on fire, and the next thing I knew, I was screaming out his name as I orgasmed, my pussy squeezing tight around him and drawing an orgasm out of him as well.

It was only after we had both come that I finally came back to reality. Most people would have been reveling in the blissed-out sensations of their body. I just felt…cheap. Dirty.

Nikolai rolled away from me, staring up at the ceiling, and I swallowed hard, knowing that this was the end of whatever relationship we’d had. He had gotten what he wanted, and now, he’d move on to someone else.

I had never had a one-night stand before, and I wasn’t sure how to leave. But Nikolai made it surprisingly easy: he didn’t say a word to me, didn’t try to hold me or even touch me. He just lay there on his back, until his breathing evened out.

As soon as it had, I tugged on my clothes, fighting back foolish tears, and left.