by Tia Siren
“Thanks,” she replied ironically. There was a pause in the conversation, and then they suddenly tried to tell each other something at the same time. “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?”
“I wanted to invite you on my boat for a few days.”
“Oh, that would be fantastic,” she said. “But hang on.” She had 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 to 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-foot motor cruiser. Six bedrooms and more than enough luxury,” 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 boat 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 a pink blouse. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she'd added just the minimum amount of makeup. As Slava looked down at her from the bridge, he felt something he never had before. It was a fluttering feeling that burned 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, 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 the 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 said.
“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 the wheel. “Now push that lever forward gently,” he said. She complied, and the boat’s engines began to roar. As their speed increased, he looked at her. “Shall we throw your bodyguard?”
“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 on hers and pulled back the lever she was holding until it would go no farther. 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 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 toward her and kissed her. When Octav
ia stood up, he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. She put her hands around his neck and held on to him. “Oh, I've wanted you to do that since the moment I saw you,” she said when their kiss ended.
“Me too. I have just kissed the daughter of the president of the United States, and she tastes wonderful!” he said, throwing 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 was a superb view of the ocean. Slava 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 was a glass roof that looked up to the sky. The room was mostly blue. It had blue carpet, blue pillows, and a blue counterpane. On the walls were murals of dolphins and whales, 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 brought his hands to the buttons on her blouse. Once 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 photos to masturbate?” Octavia said, not quite knowing 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 every day 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 away. 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, 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-cum 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 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 centers. 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 to her pubic hair. He pushed a little farther, 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. As he fingered her, he heard her breathing shift 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, letting them drop to 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 first thing he noticed was the beautiful aroma of her excitement. The second thing he noticed was just 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 Slava 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, which 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 to 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 and leaned down and kissed her hard. She pushed her pelvis up and forward, wanting him to release his seed into her. He grabbed her hands and shoved them up above her as he 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. 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 to 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 till 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. She did, and when Octavia turned away from him, wanting 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 sailed 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 breakfast.
“Tell me about your family, Slava,” she said.
“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. Petersburg. 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 mood 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?”