by Nigel May
With each Soviet visit Devon become more of a regular client, using the service to satisfy his desires. It wasn’t love, but it was the love of a good shag, the relief of emptying his balls into a woman prepared to do whatever it took to make sure that she could continue to put food on her family’s meal table in order to survive the hardships of Russian life. It was a win-win situation, both sides satisfied. And for Devon it took away the heartache of his solitary life back in the UK.
A knock sounded at the door. His latest ‘takeout’ had arrived. He had requested someone who would be happy to provide full penetrative sex but would be happy to maybe indulge in something a little kinkier if need be.
Nothing had prepared him for the vision that greeted him on the other side of the door. The long red hair, as straight as a number one, framing her face to perfection. There was an air of innocence about her, fused with a burning, volcanic lust bubbling away behind her eyes.
Devon smiled, and immediately it was reciprocated, a wide – dare he believe it, genuine? – smile, that seemed unlike any that he had experienced before during his nocturnal Russian adventures. The girl, in her mid-twenties he guessed, entered into the room and pushed a naked Devon onto the bed.
Within seconds she too was naked and working his erect cock with her mouth, allowing her expert tongue to flick over his shaft. There was a softness to her touch. Devon was euphoric and could feel the juices within his balls beginning to pulsate, ready to explode. As if possessing a sixth sense the girl stopped with her mouth and reached down into her bag to pull out a condom. She rolled it onto Devon’s cock and lowered herself onto him. He found himself lost in her beauty.
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes as she rode his cock, allowing it to exit her pussy to the last tip before sucking in his whole length once more.
It was only when she had drained the last drop of excitement from him that the woman dismounted and lay alongside him, allowing her head to rest on his body. Devon could feel his heart beating within his core, the rhythmic pounding of it calming as he wrapped his arm around the woman. This was different to his other experiences. There was a gentleness to her, a vulnerability that he liked. Protectively he drew her close to him and stroked his hand along her upper arm. She kissed his chest as if showing her gratitude. Devon closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. They fitted together. As if it were supposed to be. Two interlocking pieces of a jigsaw from different ends of Europe, the time zones and differences between their worlds erased.
His eyes still closed, Devon spoke.
‘What is your name?’
‘Tatiana,’ replied the woman, her voice already sluggish yet rich with accent.
It was nearly an hour later that Devon awoke. For a few seconds he struggled to work out where he was, the ceiling of the Russian hotel room he was gazing at seemingly unknown to him. As clarity seeped its way across his brain his thoughts stopped on the woman he had ‘ordered’. He’d fallen asleep, doubtless she would be gone and his wallet cleared of cash, anything of value stripped from the room. But no, she was still there, breathing softly into his chest as she had been before he had fallen asleep. Devon stared down at her face. She truly was beautiful.
As if aware she was being watched, Tatiana opened her eyes and looked at Devon. A second later they were kissing. Within minutes they were both locked together again, their intercourse urgent without aggression. It was only after they had both climaxed for a second time that they started to talk, Tatiana answering Devon’s questions.
She had been working as a prostitute for five years, her good looks her only qualification for making any kind of decent money. She had been born to a single mother in the back streets of Moscow. Her father was a man she had never known. He had vanished the moment her mother had fallen pregnant. Her mother had done everything she could to cater for Tatiana, taking any job in order to try and bring money into the hovel of a family home. But new clothes and shoes and a square, balanced meal were all delights that Tatiana had never been able to enjoy.
It was her dream for a new life that had spurred her into prostitution. At the age of sixteen she was propositioned by a man on the street for sex. He offered her cash, she was wise enough to know what to do. It was the easiest cash she had ever scored and bringing money to her mother brought her such joy that the machinations of how she had earned it didn’t matter to Tatiana. It made her mother happy and that was all. She told her mother that she had a secured a bar job.
Before long, Tatiana’s client list had snowballed. She was young and in demand.
Some of her experiences were beyond horrendous; men not so much having sex with her, but raping her with their violence. As they bit at her skin, forcing their way into her, Tatiana just thought of the money and tried to disconnect herself from the brutal, physical acts. Sex was money, and money meant financial happiness and security for her mother.
But there was something about Devon that had immediately sparked a flame of romance within her. Just as he had anticipated from their first meeting as he opened the hotel bedroom door, there was something that had told Tatiana that Devon would be an important man in her life.
She hadn’t realised just how important. They met on countless occasions, sometimes on the books and sometimes not, Tatiana needing money but also needing to see the man who made her feel good about herself. She missed him when he was back home in the UK. Devon would take his work to Russia as often as he could.
Tatiana still serviced other men, needing to earn cash, but nothing compared to the love-making she shared with Devon. He was soft, tender, caring yet with a devilish streak that satisfied her wilder side. Less than six months after their first meeting Devon asked her to marry him, a man once broken with grief now allowing himself to finally love again. Any reticence about giving his heart once more forgotten as he gazed deep into Tatiana’s eyes. It was a leap of faith he was certain of taking. She said yes straight away. He was the prince, rich and handsome, who would allow her to fulfil her dreams. To live the life she had seen in the fashion and celebrity magazines.
Overnight her life changed. They were married in a ceremony in Moscow, her mother the only guest, and before the ink had dried on the marriage certificate, Tatiana, now Tanya, was living in the lap of luxury with Devon in the UK. It was beyond her wildest dreams. And with Devon providing regular payments for her mother back in Moscow, she was able to move her mum to a better house and provide her with decent food, clothes and hot water. Tanya was a success, her past life a secret that she had thought would always stay just that.
But not now. Now Georgia was hearing it told with relish by the man who had saved her from a life on her back underneath endless strangers. But hadn’t that been Tanya’s own fault? She had chosen to betray the prince who had rescued her. Chosen to fall under the spell of Aaron the gardener. She had allowed herself, quite freely, to cheat on her husband.
And as Tanya listened in horror to Devon telling both her and Georgia how he had caught his wife and Aaron red-handed even after Tanya’s post-Milan promises of fidelity, Tanya realised that she had thrown it all away. Her own security, her mother’s future comfort which was so important to her, and any chance of a happy ever after with Devon. This was Devon’s revenge. To see her hurt, not with a physical pain, but with an emotional one that could signify a return to life before Devon. Both for her and for her mother.
Tanya’s face crumpled as she listened to the story unfold. Georgia, her expression a mélange of told-you-so and horror at what she had heard, just sat and stared at Tanya. She’d suspected she was a liar but not even she had imagined that she was nothing more than a call girl.
Georgia turned to her father. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Do? Nothing. Nobody else needs to know. Unless she crosses me again, of course. She’s not leaving me. She can’t. She won’t. I’ve told you, Georgia, because you’re my daughter. You deserve the truth. Family comes first. Tanya will put her mother first. You might think I’m
mad to keep her but I know Tanya better than anyone. I love her, despite everything. She can hurt me, but she must never forget that I know how to hurt her more. By sharing the truth.’
There was an eerie calmness and a warped sense of logic to Devon’s words.
‘The gardener will have to go,’ he continued. ‘We’ll employ a seventy-year-old. At least she won’t try to shag that one. But mind you, what do they say, once a whore, always a whore. Who knows? She’ll stick with me. Besides, she has nobody else. The gardener doesn’t have enough money to keep her in eyelash extensions, let alone designer clothes.’
‘That isn’t true.’
The voice came from the door. It was Aaron.
‘And here he is, the man she’s been shagging,’ sneered Devon.
‘Aaron, what the hell are you doing here?’ Georgia was shocked to see the man that she’d met in LA. She had no idea that he was working for her father too. He was equally as astonished to see her.
Any momentary surprise was forgotten as a teary Tanya ran from the sofa and into Aaron’s arms. ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Tanya. ‘Forgive me.’
‘For what?’
‘For what he has been saying about me. It is all true.’
‘And I couldn’t give a shit,’ said Aaron. ‘Fuck you. I quit!’
As Aaron and a sobbing Tanya left the room, the four individuals involved in what had just occurred were all letting their minds race into overdrive. Aaron was thinking that he had just cut off his only decent means of money. Tanya was contemplating whether running off with Aaron was actually the shrewdest move to make, especially now that he’d quit. She had signed a pre-nup before marrying Devon, and worried that both she and her dear mother would be penniless once more. Georgia was wondering whether she had just witnessed the demise of her father’s second marriage, and was still reeling at the thought of Tanya being a former hooker. And Devon? Well, he was shaking with rage at the thought of potentially losing his Russian bride, because despite what he had just announced, she was actually all that he had. Without her, he was alone once more.
‘Another drink?’ asked Devon his daughter. His words were cold and emotionless.
Sixty-Two
There are moments in life where good fortune is obviously shining down on a certain individual. When for just one moment, the universe at large decides to intervene and turn what seemed like a forgone conclusion into quite the opposite.
As Victoria Palmer-Roberts let her head sink beneath the surface of her hot bath water the last thing she ever considered was that less than twenty-four hours later she would be feeling a heat of a different kind against her skin. In fact she truly believed that any future heat she would be experiencing would be courtesy of the fires of Hell as she roasted in eternal damnation for being a bad wife and mother.
But somebody somewhere had decided that it was not to be and that Victoria was indeed supposed to die another day. And her guardian angel had been in the shapely form of Evie Merchant, the woman currently lying out alongside Victoria on a sun lounger around the pool at Gran Canaria’s five star Seaside Grand Hotel Residencia resort. And the woman keeping a close eye on Victoria’s every move.
It had been a hectic day. One that Evie hoped she’d never have to experience again.
With filming wrapped on her latest movie, Evie had been keen to see her friend. Things weren’t going well for her right now and if Evie had learned one thing in life it was that friends needed to stick together through thick and thin. She’d just pulled up outside the Bellamy family home when she’d seen Chloe leaving the house. There had been something sheepish about her as she’d raced off down the street. She had seemed distracted and in a hurry. Evie wasn’t a fan of the girl after what Victoria had told her and was tempted at first to follow the nanny to see if she was meeting up with Scott behind his wife’s back.
But at least if Chloe was out of the house she would be able to speak freely to Victoria about what had been going on. She walked to the front door and to her surprise, found it ajar. Chloe had obviously not shut it properly in her haste to leave the house. She knocked on the door. There was no answer.
She could hear the sound of the radio coming from upstairs. She recognised the singer as Sam Smith, one of her current favourites. She called out for Victoria. No reply.
Evie felt a tightening in her chest, her sixth sense telling her that something was wrong. Pushing the door open, she walked inside and followed the sound of the radio upstairs.
The door to Victoria’s bedroom was open. Evie stuck her head around the door. The room was empty. Victoria’s dressing gown lay across the bed. Maybe she was having a bath. Evie moved towards the bathroom, where the door was also open.
A bolt of panic fired through her body as she stared through the door. She could see a body immersed underneath the patchy suds. She knew straight away that it was Victoria.
Rushing towards the bath, she reached in and looped her hands under Victoria’s head, pulling her up above the waterline. It was still fairly hot which filled her with hope that maybe her friend’s body hadn’t been under the water for too long. She pulled the plug out and let the water start to swirl away down the plughole.
Attempting to remember any rudimentary first aid that she had learned on any of her film sets, Evie tried not to panic. She’d once made a film where some of the characters had been trapped on a sinking boat. What had she been taught about potential drowning victims? She racked her brain for answers. Check for a pulse, keep the person still, that was one thing to do and the other was the kiss of life. What did she remember – clear the mouth of any foreign objects, tilt head up and breath into mouth whilst holding nose. She prayed she had it right.
Less than thirty seconds later her prayers were answered as Victoria let out an almighty cough and spluttered a fountain of soapy bath water from her mouth. Evie’s resuscitation technique, basic though it was, had worked.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Evie let out her frustration and screamed at Victoria. ‘You could have died.’
‘That was the idea,’ rasped Victoria. She looked into Evie’s eyes and began to sob, seeing her own predicament reflected in the horror of Evie’s face.
‘What’s happened to me? Evie, help me.’ The tears began to flow down Victoria’s cheeks as the last of the bath water circled away and disappeared down the plughole.
‘So most people would have rushed me off to the hospital or had me locked up in a padded cell, not brought me somewhere where my toughest decision is whether to have a Pina Colada or a Mai Tai.’ Victoria still wasn’t completely sure that the sun warming her flesh under her loose-fitting clothes and the sound of lapping water patting the side of the saltwater pool wasn’t just a euphoric hallucinogenic state caused by being pumped full of drugs. Was she in fact lying in a hospital bed wired up to a life support machine with hopefully a few worried onlookers by her bedside?
‘I didn’t think it was the best thing for you. You said you’d only been under the water a few seconds and you seemed to be making sense. Well, as much as you ever do. The one thing that was clear is that you wanted to get away from everything. You’re dealing with a lot of shit right now and what kind of friend would I be if I took you straight back into a hospital? I figured a couple of days in the sun being pampered with me would be more beneficial to you than a sterile hospital ward. You’ve only just come out of one, I didn’t want to send you straight back. You deserve better than that.’
Victoria was silent for a few seconds thinking about what had happened. ‘I didn’t really want to die, you know. I just wanted some kind of peace, some kind of ending to my pain. I’m so lucky you came along when you did and that Chloe obviously left the door open by mistake. Maybe I should give her a raise for saving my life.’ The last sentence was suffocated with sarcasm.
Evie let out a sigh of incredulity. ‘Why do you still employ her if you think she and Scott are at it like rabbits behind your back?’
Victoria shifted posit
ion on her sun lounger, a little awkward at the questioning. Could she tell Evie about the painkillers? She already knew about the anti-depressants. She wasn’t sure just yet. ‘The kids love her.’ It was all she could say for now.
It had been a few crazy hours that had followed Evie finding Victoria in the bath. Victoria had cried for a long time, suddenly realising just what might have happened had she let the warm waters of the bathtub take hold for good. Leo and Lexi would have grown up without a mother. She would have never seen those landmark moments that every mother dreams of for her children. Hitting double figures, becoming a teen, first love, first job, seeing them betrothed to another. All of that would have been wiped out for a moment of madness as she sought a painless sanctuary beneath the surface of the water. But her sanctuary would have immediately become her children’s prison – the bars to a cell marked ‘motherless’. To a lifetime of others saying that Leo and Lexi were the twins with the ‘crazy bitch of a mother who had drowned herself selfishly when they were just six’. How could she have been so stupid?
It was Evie who had made the decision. She had packed a few of Victoria’s clothes into a suitcase, located her passport and before Victoria could even have time to contemplate whether it was the best course of action, Evie had phoned the film company she was working for and ordered a private jet to be ready and waiting at the nearest airport to take her and her friend to Gran Canaria. What was the point of being one of the most famous actresses on earth if you couldn’t play the diva card now and again? She’d told them she was ‘a little fatigued’ and needed some downtime before the next round of filming. Eager to please their leading lady, the jet was revved up before Evie had even finished packing Victoria’s case.
‘Do Scott and the twins definitely know we’re here?’ asked Victoria.
‘I’ve spoken to Scott. They know you’re in safe hands. I didn’t mention the suicide attempt but I did tell him that I know about him and Chloe. That knocked him for six.’