by R. J. Lewis
My head almost twists off my body as I turn and turn…face pressed against the window as we get further down the block.
“Can we get something to eat?” Scarlett suddenly asks, looking up from her shoes. When I don’t immediately respond, she adds, “It’s okay if we can’t.”
I’ve just spent almost twenty dollars on her shoes and I know it’s not a wise idea to spend any more money for the day. I’d planned on toast and eggs for dinner, but the way she looks at me, her doe eyes large and round and filled with hope, pulls on my heartstrings. I can’t say no to Scarlett. What’s another five or ten dollars at the end of the day? It won’t make a difference, or make my finances that much more fucked than it already is.
We get off on the next stop and walk back in the opposite direction. There’s a nice little diner around the corner from Nikolai’s pawn shop. I’ve seen it countless times, the lines sometimes running out the door in the mornings. I have a friend who works here, and I hope I’ll get to say hello to her if she’s here.
It’s busy but the rush is over when we enter. We take a seat at a small table, next to one with parents and two kids around Scarlett’s age playing with one another. She watches them with fascination and moves closer to me, her hand already seeking mine out. She holds me tightly, the way she does when she’s nervous or shy. She’s attached to my hip, this girl. Won’t even sit across the table from me. I think it’s because we don’t share a lot of these moments together, and she’s always either at Roberta’s or in the apartment.
“Alina!” a familiar voice says.
I turn and catch Mona as she comes up to us. “Hey!”
“How are you?”
“Good, and you?”
She nods, glancing between Scarlett and me with interest. “Yeah, good. What can I get you guys?”
I pass on food (I can’t get that carried away with money) and order Scarlett hamburger and fries. Her eyes light up when the plate comes fifteen minutes later.
“You should focus on the burger,” I tell her as she shoves the fries in her mouth two at a time. “You’ll get full off those before you get to it.”
She drops the fries and wraps her tiny hands around the burger. Half of it almost comes sliding out. I help her along, squashing the bun down so it’ll fit in her mouth. She takes a few ravenous bites, some of her strands of hair slipping into her mouth. I start pushing it aside when another plate suddenly appears in front of me.
Startled, I look up at Mona who’s about to walk away and say, “I didn’t order this.”
She looks back at me. “It’s already been paid for, babe.”
Then she leaves, hurrying to tend to another customer. I stare at the hamburger and fries in front of me with confusion. Paid for? She must have it wrong. Someone in the diner didn’t get their food. I look around me, searching for an unhappy customer. When I see Mona move past me again, I touch her arm.
“I didn’t order this,” I tell her again.
Moving along, she blows a tired breath and motions to the front of the diner. “Yeah, well, Nikolai did.”
My insides flutter at the sound of his name. I’m almost in disbelief as I follow her line of sight to the counter at the front. I’m beyond surprised to find him standing there, fingers tapping on the counter, already staring back at me. A quick jolt of excitement rushes to my chest.
He gives me a subtle nod, this slight curl to his lips that brighten his tired eyes just a teensy bit. I can’t look away from him. How long has he been there watching me? He definitely wasn’t here earlier than me. I would have seen him straight away when we came through.
He looks at me like I’m the only person in the world. The only thing he’s interested in. The only pair of eyes he wants to look into. It makes my heart stutter. This is the physical aftermath of every encounter I have with him, but it’s more pronounced after our kiss.
The smell of my food hits my nose, causing me to look down at the plate. My stomach grumbles something awful. I’ve been so conditioned to bury the ache of my hunger, but the second food’s in front of me it surfaces like a motherfucker. I feel a lump in my throat and blink back emotions. This is unexpected and… kind. I almost can’t believe it.
When I look back up again, his back is turned to me and he’s talking to an older man standing just outside the kitchen, an envelope in hand. Their conversation appears relaxed, and the older man smiles and hands the envelope to Nikolai before disappearing in the kitchen. Nikolai opens the envelope and gives it a quick look before he stuffs it in the pocket inside his suit jacket. Then he turns, gives me another quick glance that robs me of my breath, and walks out.
“Be right back,” I tell Scarlett. “Don’t move, okay?”
She nods, too invested in her food to care that I’ve gotten off the chair and am hurrying out of the diner. I stop Mona along the way and ask her to keep an eye on Scarlett, and she nods that she will.
Nikolai’s not more than six feet from the diner when I step out.
“I thought you’re not a charity,” I call out, my heart thudding in my chest at my abruptness. It’s not like me to chase a man, but I can’t accept the food in good conscience without thanking him for it.
Nikolai stops when he hears me and turns around. God, he looks tired, and his body isn’t as loose as it usually is, but fuck me, he still looks absolutely riveting.
He does a sweep of me with his eyes, and I don’t feel the same rage when the bitch at the shopping centre did the same thing, because there’s no hint of disgust in him. Or judgment. He doesn’t see my faded cut-off shorts, frayed at the ends and tattered almost beyond repair, nor the stains on my too tight top. He sees something captivating, and damn I want to know what it is, because his eyes always come alive at the sight of me.
“You’re hungry,” he simply replies, looking back at me.
“Do you make a habit feeding the hungry?” I ask. It’s a really stupid question, but I just want to talk to him, to draw this encounter out as long as I can.
“Only women with little girls in tow,” he answers, quietly.
“Are you alright? You don’t seem like yourself.”
“I’ve had a rough day.” Glancing back down the street, he throws his shades on and briskly adds, “Do svidanya, Alina.”
Something’s not right about him. He’s ending the conversation rapidly. He turns to leave but I can’t stop myself from saying, “You’ve been gone.”
He pauses mid-step and turns his sights back to me. “I’ve been right here.”
“You don’t come by the store.”
“That’s a matter of preference.”
“Did something happen? Are you at odds with Ivan, or is this still about Benji owing you money?”
I can’t see his eyes anymore, but his brows pinch together and he takes a step to me, the distance now five feet between us. “How do you know about Benji?”
“He told me about it.”
“Do you talk to him a lot then? Close friends with the lying durak?”
“We work together.”
“Is that all you do together?”
I give him a confused look. “Yes, Nikolai, it is.”
If that makes him feel better, it doesn’t show on his face as he grits out, “Well, don’t involve yourself in business you’re not part of.”
“I’m involved because I work there and a valued customer hasn’t made an appearance in a week. Who is going to buy our orange juice now?”
I break the serious mood he’s in, because his lips twitch. He takes another step closer, four feet now between us. “Maybe I never really liked your orange juice.”
I bite back a smile. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
He takes another step closer, three feet between us. “Maybe it was an excuse to see the pretty girl behind the counter.”
A delicious lick of pleasure shoots down my spine, my hands trembling to touch him the way I did that night. He notices an
d moves even closer. “Maybe you tasted too sweet,” he continues, his voice husky and low. “And I want it again.”
He’s standing in front of me now, looking down at me. He’s so close, a few measly inches of space between us. “Maybe you want it too, kotyonok.”
His suit rubs against my bare skin as he presses his body to mine. His hand runs down my hair and slowly inches down my spine. I close my eyes as the scent of him hits me. I feel his head drop down, his forehead pressing against mine, and the warmth of his mouth follows, skimming along my cheek before lightly running over my lips.
I feel like I’ve been doused in flames. My hand snakes up his chest and grabs at his jacket, gripping him tightly to me. I feel something wet run along my lips and I part them, letting his tongue between them. Jesus Christ, we’re in the middle of the street and he’s trailing his tongue inside my mouth, and I’m letting him. I’m actually letting him.
This man….
This man is fucking with my senses.
His hands fall to my waist, and he grips me and we move. I don’t know where we’re going, but it’s a handful of steps from where we were before my back hits a brick wall.
“You want to earn it again, rybka?” he huskily says, his voice thick with urgency. Usually he’s much more composed than this, but he sounds undone.
I make a humming sound in the back of my throat. It’s a yes, I think. I don’t really know. I just know I still have my hands gripped tight on his suit jacket, and his mouth hovers over mine, teasing me every so often with that tongue of his.
“Say yes,” he demands.
I’m too distant to, so I hum again and it’s enough for him. He curses in Russian – words I recognize from Ivan – and his mouth crashes to mine. The kiss is hard and unyielding, quickly filling the silence with heavy breaths. His hands are everywhere, on my thighs and hips, then up my back and wrapped around my neck. I melt into him as he’s flushed against the length of me, owning my mouth as he dips his tongue and searches for mine.
There’s a part of me that comes alive. A part I’ve never given attention to because it makes me feel dirty and used. It’s that part between my legs. It sparks and warms, and for the first time I don’t feel sick for feeling it. In fact, I…I like it, especially when his hand around my neck tightens and his kiss deepens. The sparks grow, and the feel of his dick pressed firmly against my stomach excites me. There’s no revulsion. No urgency to push him away or hurt him.
It’s so foreign.
Twice he’s done this to me. Fucked my mouth and made me want more without wanting to burn my skin off after it’s done.
He wraps his large hand around my thigh and lifts it up, settling himself between my legs as he makes me taste his mouth. Oh, I taste it. I taste it thoroughly, without holding back. Then his kiss slows, but doesn’t stop. It becomes tender and long, and between the clash of our tongues he mutters something in his language that I wish I understood.
The erotic session lasts seconds, although in the moment it feels like an eternity and yet not long enough. When he pulls away, breathing harshly against my mouth, I can already feel his eyes burning into my own long before I open them. There’s a heavy silence that follows, and I’m still standing there, back against a brick wall, eyes closed, mouth parted, yearning for more of him.
“I’m sure you figured it out,” he murmurs achingly. “I want you to come to me, Alina.”
I open my eyes – I’m in the alleyway between the diner and another store – when I realize what he means. It’s not what I expect him to say. The warmth inside me cools instantly and I slide along the wall, detaching myself from him. “You want me to be your whore,” I say shakily, my voice hard.
He watches me closely, his intense gaze drilling into me. “You need money. I want you pinned beneath me. The arrangement works.”
Arrangement? Money? Pinned beneath him? This is what this is all about. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I’m an idiot. An utter fucking idiot thinking he was being sweet. That maybe his intentions meant something else all along. How could life have hardened me and yet made me soft for this guy? This…Russian egotistical dick that thinks he can have anything he wants if he throws money at it?
And I fell for it. Oh, my God, I let him take me into an alleyway and kiss the fuck out of me. I’m so unfocused, so unbelievably shocked by how stupid I am.
“I wanted a loan,” I tell him edgily.
He licks his lips while he stares at my own. “I’m not giving you a loan, Alina. I’m sparing you a debt as it is.”
I scoff. “You’re sparing me?”
“I could have easily made you owe me the few grand your mother ripped off me.”
“I’d rather you did.”
He tilts his head to the side, confused. “Why? So you can suffer more?”
“I’m used to suffering.”
“And your sister? Is she used to it too?”
My heart falls in my chest as I narrow my eyes at him. “Go fuck yourself, Nikolai.”
The softness in his face fades and something eerily cold replaces it, but I don’t care. I take a step back and boldly add, “If you’re looking for whores, they’re all over the corners of the Estate. Find yourself a good fuck there and leave me alone.”
I pause just then, like I’m waiting for him to strike back. I think I secretly itch for it just so I can keep standing as close to him as I am. It’s sickening the way my body responds to him; the way my skin feels like it’s being licked by pleasure even when his expression is unforgiving.
He says something, but it’s in his language and I don’t know what it is. It’s said in a murmur, almost inaudible. I try to capture the words so I can relay it to Benji, but they slip from mind within seconds.
“Go back inside and eat,” he suddenly demands, his jaw tensed as he recognizes my indecision. “Stay away from people like me, rybka. All we want is to take, and I’m not a man that likes to be teased.”
“I’m not teasing you,” I retort.
“Everything about you is a tease,” he returns just as harshly. “From the clothes you wear to your wanting eyes burrowing into mine every morning, and” – he cuts the foot of distance again and lowers his face to my level – “the way you came alive against my mouth then and now. You didn’t want it to end. Neither did I.”
He’s right, I didn’t, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that.
“That’s why I haven’t returned,” he explains, his voice softer now as his gaze settles on my mouth. “I’m extremely attracted to you. I want to fuck you wide open. You want it too. End the song and dance when you want to, but don’t act like me wanting to use you is that much of a surprise. I’m dirty, but you knew that. If you want a man that’ll read you sonnets and make love to you in missionary under God’s watchful eye, go to church and find your soft dick there.”
He doesn’t end it there. He leans even closer, so much so I can feel his breaths hitting my mouth as he adds, “But if you want to fuck with a purpose, you know where to find me. I’d make it worth your while, rybka.”
I’m absolutely gobsmacked. My jaw drops in shock, but I don’t dare retort. But I’m angry. So angry, I can’t resist glaring at him. His face is stone-cold, not one single emotion spilling. Yet despite this, there’s tension too. He lingers to me, and I cut even closer, desperate for his touch again but hating him for his words just the same. We hover ever so closely, like we’re tempting each other, waiting for one to fold and cut the distance. It’s a vile war of emotions. One that triggers a response in me to push forward, but I don’t get the chance to.
“Do svidanya,” he finally says tightly, like he’s putting in effort to be cordial. He takes the first step back, and my chest feels empty. What did he even fill it with? I don’t know, and I feel lost as he turns and walks off, his body taut once again, his hand curled at his side as he rounds the corner of the alleyway and disappears. I want to stop him and watch him leave at the same time. I want to curse
at him but with his lips attacking mine all at once.
Nikolai is fucking me up. Or I already am fucked up and he has a way of surfacing it. Regardless, it’s a fucked up situation, period.
When I return to the diner moments later, I realize I’ve only been gone a few minutes. My anger is worse than before after I collapse in my chair and clench my fist together, wanting to rid the betraying tugs of pleasure I feel at the thought of him using me in any way.
Maybe I am a whore at heart.
Because I want that mouth back on mine. I want him sucking me dry, want his cock – that felt thick and hard – inside me. And that makes me frightened of him even more. Because I’ve never wanted a man before him. I hated the feelings they gave me. Nobody ever turned me on. Nobody made me feel like I would die without their touch.
It makes Nikolai more powerful than I imagined him.
Scarlett stops eating and takes me in, her concern forcing me to clear my face and smile at her.
“Is it good?” I choke out, fighting to keep the trembles from my voice.
She nods heartily. “So good, Alina.”
My heart blooms for a second, and then it falls the next when I think of what I just did. I stare idly at my food, tapping at the plate with this forlorn look on my face. There’s an awful knot in my stomach, and it diminishes my hunger in an instant with such fierceness, the idea of eating makes me want to throw up. I’m so pissed at him, but in the end, I’m angrier at myself. I know what he is, and I’m delusional for spending so much of my time thinking we shared something.
Mostly, he’s confirmed the fantasies I’ve had of him, of being dirty and wanting me. I suppose I hoped he’d be a let-down. A good man at heart instead of the cold Russian I see who longs to turn me inside-out every time he looks at me.
I’ve been so silly, because if there are any good men left in this world, I won’t find them in the Estate.
And, let’s be real, I’ll never find a way out of the Estate anyway.
Nikolai
I spend my evening in the Banya. With nothing but a towel wrapped around my hips, I lay sprawled on a high bench, eyes closed, enjoying the silence in the steam room as I try to cleanse my mind of everyday bullshit.