The Tides of Change

by Joanna Rees

  Now, after her stay in Russia, she could see that because of him, she’d been condemned to a life of isolation. A life without a family. A life without the possibility of a decent guy or children of her own. And all this time, a sweet, intelligent woman had also been condemned: to a life of heartache and blindness.

  And now she was about to die – all because of that evil son-of-a-bitch.

  Who just happened to be Peaches’ father.

  Peaches knew that whatever it took, she would make things right. She would seek vengeance for her mother.

  At first, Valentin had been surprised to hear from Peaches, as usually he contacted her. But it had only taken a few compliments and an expressed desire to do some sightseeing in Moscow before he’d agreed to take her to the ballet.

  Now Peaches felt her heart flutter with excitement as she stood below the glittering chandelier. Yes, tonight, she felt as if she were recapturing some of her heritage.

  It wasn’t long before she spotted Valentin. He was wearing a tuxedo, which made him look more handsome than she remembered, but he seemed to be more anxious than she’d seen him before, hurrying her towards the royal box in the dress circle.

  He stopped outside in the corridor and introduced Peaches to a swarthy man in a leather coat. ‘This is my friend, Dimitry Sergeyokov,’ Valentin said.

  The man in the coat, Sergeyokov, reached out and kissed Peaches’ hand and she inwardly recoiled. Peaches trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that this one was no good.

  ‘It is a shame I am going away,’ Dimitry said. He turned to his friend, teasing, ‘I would like to get to know her better.’ He added to Peaches, ‘Valentin always says that you’re the best. Perhaps you have friends in town we could call?’

  From the way he flicked his eyes towards Valentin, Peaches was in no doubt what he was suggesting. Peaches smiled, despite the hardness behind Dimitry’s eyes.

  Much to Peaches’ relief, however, it seemed that Valentin didn’t like the idea. He had a rapid conversation with Dimitry in Russian. Then Dimitry looked around nervously, as if he were worried that they were being watched.

  Wordlessly, he hugged Valentin. When the men withdrew from one another, Peaches noticed that they both had tears in their eyes. Then Dimitry slapped Valentin on the shoulder before giving him a bundle of banknotes. He nodded at Peaches and quickly walked away.

  ‘How long is he going away for?’ Peaches asked Valentin as he opened the door of the private box, surprised by the emotion she’d just witnessed.

  ‘Let’s just say . . . he is disappearing for a while,’ Valentin said.

  ‘Disappearing?’

  But Valentin didn’t answer. He led Peaches to the box with its plush red velvet seats and thick curtain. Peaches walked to the front and peered down over the balcony to the theatre below, and gasped. It was vast, with ornate gilt plasterwork covering the ceiling and the walls. A safety curtain was drawn over the enormous stage. It was like stepping back in time and Peaches felt a thrill of anticipation. There was a happy hubbub of voices as the stalls below them filled up. The sound of the orchestra starting to tune up added to the excitement.

  Peaches turned as Valentin handed her a glass of champagne. ‘You look very beautiful tonight,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So what brings you to Moscow?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, just some business.’

  ‘And what about this?’ he asked. ‘Is this business?’

  ‘Not tonight. I think tonight is about pleasure, don’t you?’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I’m so glad you could meet me.’

  ‘It was not easy getting this box, but I thought you would like it.’

  ‘I do. Very much.’

  Valentin came towards her and suddenly he kissed her. She felt herself twitch with unexpected pleasure and she kissed him back. She could feel him stiffening against her thigh and she wrapped her hands around his buttocks and squeezed them.

  ‘Let me have you now,’ he said, gently easing her down towards the floor. ‘No one can see us in here. Doesn’t it turn you on that we’re surrounded by so many people?’

  She laughed and pulled away. ‘Shhh. Wait. I want to see the ballet.’

  She sat demurely in one of the plush chairs at the front of the box. She felt like royalty, sitting up here with her uninterrupted view of the stage. The stalls were filling up fast, and she saw people reach for their opera glasses and look in her direction.

  ‘So you like Moscow, huh?’ Valentin said, clearly searching for small talk. It was odd for them to be having a conversation fully clothed. She could tell he was desperate for her.

  ‘I like the girls you have here. I’m surprised you come to America for pleasure.’

  Valentin smiled. ‘Russian women are very beautiful, but they’re not the same as you American girls.’

  Peaches decided to cut to the chase. She turned in her chair and leant forward towards him. She let the front of her dress fall open. ‘Oh? In what way?’

  ‘They don’t know how to talk to a man like you do.’

  Peaches smiled as the lights were lowered and the orchestra started up. ‘You know, you make my nipples so hard,’ she whispered, sensually licking her forefinger. She could see his cock twitching against the fabric of his trousers. She uncrossed her legs, watching him watching her.

  She could see how aroused he was, but she wouldn’t let him touch her. As the sheath of fabric fell away, she gave him a full view of her silk crotchless knickers – samples from her underwear collection.

  Valentin went to lunge towards her, but Peaches smiled and shifted further back in her seat, crossing her smooth long legs. ‘Wait,’ she told him imperiously, flicking her eyes back to the stage.

  The lights had gone down fully now and the curtain lifted. She could feel Valentin’s brooding presence in the semi-darkness next to her, waiting to pounce. But for a moment, as the ballerinas came on to the stage and the music from the orchestra soared to the ceiling, Peaches was totally caught up in the beauty of the scene before her. The ballerinas, dressed as white swans, glided on to the stage, pirouetting and jumping in the soft lighting. There was something so serene about them, and mesmerizing too.

  But then she remembered why she was here.

  Slowly, she reached out and let her hand slide up Valentin’s thigh towards his throbbing erection. He moaned softly, as she squeezed him hard and her fingers reached for his zip in the dark. She teased him for ages, never taking her eyes off the ballet as she freed him, letting her fingertips brush over his balls. When she knew he could stand it no more, she grabbed his hard cock in her fist. She could hear his breath, ragged and horny, and, slipping off her chair, she knelt in front of him.

  Slowly she began licking up his length, again and again, up and down, before finally giving him what he wanted and taking him deep in her mouth. She could feel the veins throbbing beneath his smooth flesh as she rhythmically moved her lips and tongue up and down his long shaft until, suddenly, he came, jerking his hips towards her, hot liquid bursting into her mouth.

  But that, she whispered to him, was just the warm-up. They moved to the red velvet sofa at the back of the box, where she lay him down and slid on top of him and slowly fucked him until he climaxed again. She had to put her hand over his mouth to stop his gasps of pleasure drawing any attention from the rest of the audience.

  Afterwards, as they sat whispering, he affectionately rubbed her neck before feeding her a chocolate from the tray next to the champagne, his earlier bad mood now having mysteriously vanished.

  When he put his arm around her, Peaches suddenly felt as if they were on a date. For a fleeting moment, she imagined that she wasn’t here with Valentin, but with Harry Rezler. What would he be like to kiss? she wondered. And where was he now? Somewhere on his own? Maybe even thinking about her?

  She forced the thought of him from her mind. Tonight was about Valentin. About work. Not Harry Rezler and whatever childish romantic fantasy her sub
conscious had been busy cooking up about him.

  She must have been craving male company more than she realized. Or perhaps it was just stress relief. Either way, it felt good to be working, even on a freebie like this. To be doing what came naturally. All the powerlessness she’d felt over the past week caring for her mother had gone. She was back to being Peaches Gold. Back to being the woman who could manipulate a player like Valentin with the flick of her tongue or a squeeze of her thighs.

  ‘So? What kind of business are you here for?’ he asked, pouring her more champagne.

  ‘Just looking for opportunities. I need some more work.’

  Valentin laughed. ‘I thought you said this was pleasure.’

  ‘It is. I’m not talking about this. I’m talking about real work. For me and my girls. I’ve got the party coming up in LA – I told you about it. I need a big stake.’

  ‘You want money? I can give you money,’ Valentin said, a lazy smile on his face.

  Men, thought Peaches. They could turn from a thug to a teddy bear, just by having their cocks sucked.

  ‘You are so sweet, baby,’ Peaches said, snuggling up against him. ‘But I want a big gig. Hey, maybe you know some people who might be able to help. What about your contacts? Didn’t you mention once the . . . ’ She pretended to grope around for the memory. ‘Pushkin? Wasn’t that it? Isn’t that some kind of big yacht in the Med?’

  Valentin looked confused and then annoyed that she’d listened to and remembered one of his conversations. But it passed in a moment.

  ‘Sure,’ he said with a shrug. ‘So what?’

  ‘So . . .’ she pried, ‘I’ve been in this business long enough to know that this time of year is party time, what with Cannes and everything being on. I supply loads of girls for those big yachts. Pushkin – does it belong to your boss? What did you say his name was again?’

  ‘Yuri,’ Valentin said. ‘Yuri Khordinsky.’

  ‘That’s right. So is Pushkin his?’

  Valentin snorted. ‘No. It belongs to Alexei. It’s Alexei who throws his money around in the Med.’

  She watched him slug back the champagne in his glass. She was getting somewhere . . . ‘Oh? So who’s Alexei?’ she asked.

  ‘Alexei Rodokov. He is Yuri’s favourite. And he is stupid. He does not see that he is just Yuri’s puppet.’ There was no mistaking the scorn in Valentin’s voice.

  ‘Oh? You don’t like him?’

  ‘I never see him. People like me and Dimitry do all the dirty work, but Alexei, he just gets spoilt . . .’

  ‘Uh-huh? How?’ she asked.

  ‘Yuri wants to throw a party for Alexei at the weekend, for his birthday.’

  Peaches smiled. She was right on the money, once again. She still had what it took to sniff out business.

  ‘The best Russian girls he wants. It is a headache for me. And then I’m not invited to the party,’ Valentin continued. She could tell he was sulking about it.

  ‘Oh, poor baby,’ she said, smiling and leaning forward to kiss his neck. ‘You silly boy. You should have come to me first.’

  ‘But I’ve arranged it all. It’s too late.’

  ‘But will the girls be able to talk to him? Excite him? Like this?’ She slid her hand inside his fly and grabbed his cock. He looked surprised, and pleased too. ‘Well?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s what Yuri wants. And what Yuri wants, he always gets.’

  Peaches was right against him, whispering in his ear. ‘But I’ve got better girls. American girls. Girls that look innocent, but go like crazy.’ She licked his earlobe, then sensually sucked it before continuing, ‘Girls that will fuck each other in the best floor show you’ve ever seen.’

  Valentin’s eyelids fluttered as she expertly massaged his cock, feeling it grow once more in her hand. ‘You think?’ he sighed.

  ‘I know. Why don’t you cancel what you’ve planned and let me take care of it?’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’

  ‘Will Yuri be at Alexei’s party?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘So I’ll make sure that they both know that you’ve brought the best girls in the world. Your present.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘It’s what I do best.’

  ‘I know what you do best,’ Valentin said.

  Peaches raised an eyebrow and smiled. She leant back against the side of the sofa, letting the fabric of her dress fall away. Slowly, she lifted one leg up, hooking it over the back of the sofa, and let her other foot rest on the floor. Then, looking Valentin in the eye, she licked her finger, taking it deep in her mouth, just as she’d taken his cock. She touched herself, then ran her wet finger across her pussy. Then she slid her finger inside her ass.

  Valentin drew a breath in through his teeth, watching her as he unleashed his cock. It sprang to attention.

  ‘So you’ll let me take care of it?’ she asked, looking up at him. ‘We have a deal?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, yes . . .’ He leant down on top of her. ‘But . . .’

  ‘But what, baby?’ Peaches purred, sensually closing her eyes as he entered her.

  Valentin breathed heavily, pulling her off the seat and holding her buttocks firmly so that he could penetrate her more deeply.

  ‘You won’t be there, will you? On Pushkin?’ he suddenly hissed.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, because . . . because you’re mine,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you worry, honey,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘I have no intention of going. I’m in charge, remember? I don’t do the gigs, I just collect all the money from my lovely girls when they come home.’ Already her plan was whirring in her mind. ‘Now fuck me hard, you gorgeous Russian stud. Fuck me hard, like you know I want it.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  On the bridge of Pushkin, Richard, the captain, nodded to Roz, who closed the door. Frankie faced them both. So much for the welcoming committee. Everyone had been acting very strangely since she’d arrived back on board, clearly preoccupied with the preparations for Alex’s birthday party. She’d been hustled up here as soon as she’d put down her bag.

  ‘So . . .’ Frankie started, clasping her hands together. She suddenly felt nervous and shy. She wished she didn’t have to do this alone. She wished she’d come with Alex. ‘So I’m back.. .’

  ‘Yes. Well, you’re fired,’ Richard said without preamble.

  ‘What?’ So much for her plan of making a dignified return and trying not to put people’s noses out of joint. She’d been expecting the ‘little chat’ he’d proposed when she’d come on board to be about the fact that the crew now knew she was having a relationship with Alex. ‘You’re firing me?’ she said, and then she laughed. ‘I don’t think you understand, Richard. I’m not even working here any more—’

  ‘We know where you’ve been. With Alexei Rodokov,’ Roz said, not hiding the smug tone in her voice.

  Were they serious? What was this? Frankie stared at Richard, dumbfounded. She’d thought he’d know all about her and Alex. Surely Alex had called him? Hadn’t he?

  ‘Er . . . yes. So? Alex and I . . . we—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s all very beautiful and wonderful,’ Roz interrupted sarcastically, ‘but it’s still a sackable offence.’

  Frankie had to fight down her urge to tell Roz to go fuck herself. Jealous cow. Be mature, she told herself again, and wait and see where all this is leading before you go shooting your mouth off.

  ‘Richard,’ Frankie said reasonably, ignoring Roz, ‘you really don’t understand. I thought all this was sorted out. If you’d just call Alex, then he’d tell you—’

  ‘What? That he’s managed to bone one of my stewardesses? Big deal. Do you think you’re the first?’

  Frankie felt blood rushing to her cheeks. ‘How dare you! I’m waiting here for Alex. Until he gets here for his birthday party.’

  ‘No you’re not.’

  Frankie felt her hackles rising. Richard was staring at her, e
xasperated now, like a teacher trying to explain a simple problem to a thick kid in school.

  ‘Richard, for God’s sake, just call Alex,’ she said.

  ‘Frankie, you’re the one that doesn’t understand. You’re to leave immediately. These are orders from the boss,’ he said.

  They couldn’t be serious! Frankie looked between Richard and Roz.

  Apparently, they were serious.

  Her brain was racing. There must be a perfectly plausible explanation, but she had to remain calm. She was determined not to lose it in front of them. They clearly had no idea what had happened between her and Alex. She must maintain her dignity at all costs. They were her staff – they just didn’t know it yet.

  ‘Fine. OK,’ she said, holding up her hands. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset. ‘Whatever you say. I’ll go. And once Alex hears about this, then we’ll soon see who else is being fired on the boss’s orders.’

  Richard and Roz exchanged a look.

  ‘Eugene will take you ashore,’ Richard said. ‘I wouldn’t bother asking for a reference in future. Just in case you thought—’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  All she’d done was fall in love, but Frankie felt as if she’d committed a murder, the way that Richard escorted her to the deck and marched her to the waiting tender.

  ‘Don’t I even get to say goodbye?’

  ‘No one wants to talk to you,’ Roz said.

  The words stung, but Frankie ignored them. She and Alex were in love and Richard and Roz were making a very, very big mistake.

  Huge.

  ‘You’ll regret this, Richard,’ Frankie said as she started down the ladder towards the speedboat.

  ‘Maybe not as much as you will, Frankie. You’re a very foolish girl.’

  He was enjoying this. She could see it in his eyes. He spent so much time being subservient to the guests that the only thing that made him feel important was playing God with his crew. It sucked. Well, he’d be sorry when she was back in a few hours with Alex.

  Eugene didn’t even look at her. Jeff pulled the speedboat away fast and Frankie had to grab hold of the rail as they sped across the bay of Cannes. The water was crowded with yachts of all sizes. Everyone was here, trying to get the best position.