by AC Arthur
“I want her found,” Misha said before giving the waitress a curt nod.
She had nice tits, but no ass which is why she was only serving drinks instead of being up on stage like the other lovelies Misha had personally selected. The club brought in close to $250,000 weekly. This amount included revenue from cover charges, drinks and the private subscriptions which were Luka’s idea. Men with very deep pockets and ridiculous titles in whichever country they originated from, paid good money to be part of this club. And Misha was proud to provide excellent entertainment for them. The drugs that were distributed through the back rooms was an added bonus. And that revenue was counted separately in Misha’s organization.
Misha drank from the new glass the waitress brought to him. He let the bitter liquor settle in the back of his throat while staring at her tits again. She knew not to move until he gave her permission. He licked his lips as the dark circle of her nipple was visible through the tight white t-shirt she was instructed to wear. He wanted to touch her nipple with his tongue. He could suck tits all day and night. His dick hardened and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“You bring her to me. I want her standing in front of me just like this,” Misha said to Urod.
Misha reached out to cup her breast in the palm of his hand. She made a sound and he yelled, “Tsi-shih-NAH!”
She looked away but Misha did not care. All his girls were trained to be quiet. There was never a need for them to speak. Just stand and wait to provide pleasure. He did not even know the language this one spoke. It was not Russian or English and Misha did not care. She belonged to him and that was all that mattered.
“I’ve got a man at her house,” Urod told him.
“But she is not there,” Misha continued, his voice returning to its calm gravely tone. “I too have men at her house. She has not been there in days.”
Urod leaned back in his chair. His eyes grazed over the backside of the waitress. With his free hand Misha pushed the table so that it rammed into Urod’s chest, pinning the skinny man against the back wall. While Urod wheezed his next breath, Misha tweaked the waitress’s nipple. Misha’s mouth watered.
“One day,” Misha said and ripped the shirt from the waitress. “I want her in front of me in one day.”
Urod was still gasping for breath when Misha pulled the waitress closer. Luka would escort him out of the club now that Misha was finished talking to him. Misha yanked on the waitress’s arm until she bent over in front of him. He stuck out his tongue, his body going tight with intense pleasure the second his tongue touched her nipple. He lifted the now bare breast in his hand, enjoying the contrast between their skin tones immensely. Hers was darker, so very dark. While his was white, pure. His chubby fingers moved roughly over her skin as he now juggled both her breasts in his hands. He loved to see them shake. They were so heavy and sat up so high on her.
Behind him he heard the music start. His already growing erection was now stiff as a stick against his thigh. He pulled the waitress down onto his lap and turned in his seat so that he could see the stage.
Right on schedule, the house lights dimmed, and white spotlights appeared on the stage. His hands gripped the waitress’s breasts while her head fell back against his shoulder. She sobbed. Misha did not care. On the stage three new girls appeared. They were young and precious. Not really Misha’s thing since their bodies had not been developed to the lushness he favored. But the crowd loved them. There would be much money made tonight as the guests bid for who they would spend a couple of hours with. This was a good batch, he thought as he maneuvered the waitress to sit over his erection.
These girls had come in last week’s shipment from China. He had yet to find another contact in Africa, after Luka had taken care of the one that was Emmet’s supplier. The deal with Emmet had been lucrative, for a while. Then the man became greedy and sloppy, two things Misha did not tolerate.
The waitress was stiff. She did not move the way he needed. She was not trying. With a growl Misha pushed her off of him and she tumbled to the floor. He stood up and motioned toward the door. His driver would follow him out now and Misha would instruct him to take him back to the hotel. He would return to the house where he lived part-time on the French Riviera once Emmet’s friend—the woman named Zera—was in his custody.
For now, he would leave this place, the club he’d named The Grande. And he would not return for a while. They needed new staff. He would have Luka tend to that before he could come back.
Minutes later Misha slipped into the back seat of the white car. He unzipped his pants and freed his stiff length. Letting his head fall back onto the leather seats he worked his hand over his cock, searching for enough relief to whet his appetite for tonight. The lovelies that were waiting for him were voracious. He needed longevity to be on his side, without the help of any drug.
When he closed his eyes, moaning with the spikes of pleasure already streaking through his body, Misha saw her face. The tall black woman who had stood beside Emmet on the last night that Misha had seen the man alive. She’d worn a very short skirt and he could picture her long legs wrapped around his waist. He would love to watch them through the mirror above his bed at his home. Their coloring would be intoxicating, her body more than enjoyable, more than…his release came quick, spurting onto his hands and pants as his leg shook and his moans filled the interior of the car.
Urod had one day to get Misha what he wanted and then there would be more death. Until Misha had everything due to him and nothing less.
There were candles. Fragrant ones, Dane noted as he walked deeper into the hotel room. The curtains at the windows were drawn. The table—which still held enjoyable memories for him—was now covered with a white linen cloth. Short, fat candles in a circle of three were lit in the center of the table. White plates with matching napkins, wine glasses and shined silverware accompanied the candles.
Dane set his briefcase on the couch and removed his suit jacket. He loosened his tie and listened carefully to the low murmur of her voice. She was in the bedroom, on the phone he surmised. He walked closer. She spoke in hushed tones and Dane wondered who she was talking to.
“My family needs an answer,” she’d said.
Dane continued forward and was almost to the doorway of the bedroom when he heard a door close. He stopped then, realizing that she had gone into the bathroom. So that he would not hear her conversation? He frowned and resisted the urge to storm into the room and insist she open the door. He could demand answers from her. Push the issue until she told him everything. Because Dane was certain she had something to tell.
Was she on the run from an abusive husband?
No, he’d told himself this earlier. She’d been involved romantically with Emmet up until six months ago when he’d died. Dane had googled his former friend and came up with nothing about his death. There hadn’t been much online about Emmet Parks when he was living either. But that wasn’t foremost on Dane’s mind.
Zera was a hacker and she apparently had no problem bribing people to do her bidding. Did that make her a cop, or maybe she was an informant? She was definitely using his room to hide from someone. Dane had figured that the evening after she’d arrived and a delivery man had brought a duffle bag with her belongings inside. She’d told him the older woman she’d been staying with had sent her things and that she was going to be looking for a new apartment. Dane hadn’t believed her, but he hadn’t asked the pertinent questions either.
He wondered why?
What was it about this woman that had him deciding that it was better to have her lying next to him in bed each night, than wondering where she was sleeping and who she might be sleeping with? What was it that had him tossing out all the parameters he’d so studiously operated within while involved in sexual relationships with other women?
More questions.
Dane rubbed a hand down the back of his head and stepped into the bedroom. He set on the edge of the bed, his back to the bathroom door an
d pulled the tie from around his neck. He began to unbutton his shirt and was just pulling it off when the bathroom door opened.
“Hey,” she said in a breezy, casual tone.
“Hey,” Dane replied, his voice somber compared to hers.
“I ordered dinner for us,” she continued.
He could hear her moving on the other side of the room. She unzipped her bag and zipped it again.
“Good,” he answered. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too. I had some errands to run today so I did not get a chance to get lunch,” she told him. “It should arrive in a few minutes. I told room service to deliver at six forty-five.”
Dane nodded. He removed his shoes and stood up to undo his belt and then take off his pants. When he was about to walk the pants to the closet to place them on a hanger, he saw her leaning against the doorjamb. She wore denim shorts that probably could have used a few more inches of material to stretch down her thighs. Her feet were bare, her top, a pink sleeveless design that hugged her breasts and stopped abruptly to leave her midriff bare. She’d created some type of braid with her hair and pulled it so that it rested over one shoulder. With no make-up on her face and her arms crossed over her chest, she looked young, pretty and carefree.
Dane walked to the closet without saying another word.
“Did your business go okay today?” she asked.
He’d just draped the pants over a hanger and put them into the closet.
“It’s coming along,” he told her. And then, for reasons he did not want to explore, Dane continued. “This new venture is a big undertaking. I’ve been involved with new start-ups before, but this one seems different.”
“Because it is with your family?”
His head whipped around at her question as he wondered just how much Zera knew about him. Dane would be the first to admit that he was not a talkative man. He did not share his life easily. Probably because his life had been so unusual for so long.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I’m not entirely sure how to deal with these new relatives on a business, or a personal level.”
It was the first time he’d said that aloud.
Dane went to the dresser. He removed his watch and set it next to his bottle of cologne and deodorant. His leather toiletry bag was opened but empty. The shaving supplies he carried in it were in the bathroom. Beside the bag was Zera’s deodorant, bottles filled with colorful perfumes, lotions, a travel size manicure set and earrings. She had a few pair of earrings in different sizes. The ones she wore right now were gold studs in a 3D square shape.
“Just be yourself,” she said. “That’s what my grandmother used to tell me. Whenever I had to meet new people she would say just be yourself. They either like you or they don’t, either way it is their problem, not yours.”
After he’d opened one of the drawers, pulled out a pair of basketball shorts and put them on, Dane looked at her again.
The fact that he was so intrigued by her, that he wanted nothing more but to pick her up and toss her fine ass onto that bed and sink his length into her once more, was totally his problem. There was no denying that.
“Do you have trouble being yourself around new people, Zera?” Dane asked as he closed the distance between them.
She pushed away from the doorjamb until she was standing straight in front of him. “There are many different parts of being me,” she said before leaning in to drop a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.
When Dane would have said something else, there was a knock at the door.
“Dinner’s here,” she said before turning and heading out to the living area.
Dane followed her and watched as she helped the delivery guy move the covered dishes from his cart to set on the neatly decorated table. It struck him then how domestic this scene appeared. They could have easily been mistaken for a couple on vacation. Maybe that’s what the delivery guy thought when Zera reached into her back pocket and pulled out folded euros. She handed them to him and he smiled, muttering, “Merci,” before he stepped out of the room.
Zera replied, her French just as smooth and fluent as the man’s had been.
“Mon plaisir. Bonne soirée,” she’d said as she closed and locked the door.
Dane moved closer to the table. He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to have a seat. When she did, he let his hands rest on her shoulders and looked down to the top of her head.
“Tu n'es pas né à Paris. Quand as-tu appris à parler français?” he asked, wanting to know when she had learned to speak French.
She waited a beat before replying, “Je suis né à Nairobi. Je parle couramment le français, l'allemand et le russe.”
So she spoke French, German and Russian. Did she just have an interest in foreign languages?
Dane let his hands fall away from her shoulders. He circled the table and took the seat across from her. She was already removing the covers from each dish.
“I figured we’d have some American favorites tonight,” she announced. “Cheeseburgers and French fries, which is a false statement since the first claim to potatoes being fried came from Belgium.”
“History and foreign languages,” Dane said as he placed his napkin in his lap. “You’re quite eclectic.”
She’d just set a cheeseburger with chunky pickles and thick melted cheese onto her plate. She used her napkin to wipe her hands before looking up at him. For endless seconds she did not speak and Dane took the other burger from the dish and placed it on the plate in front of him. He also took some of the fries, placing them beside his burger. Then he looked at her again.
“I guess you could say that,” she replied with a shrug. “You also speak French.”
Dane nodded. He usually preferred his burger with fried onions and barbeque sauce, but he was fine with what she’d ordered for him.
“I was inspired after my first trip to Paris four years ago,” he replied and had the pleasure of watching her mouth open and then shut quickly because she obviously did not know how to respond.
For the next few moments they ate in silence, until the new questions that continued to pop into Dane’s mind, would not be contained.
“Tell me about your family. Are you an only child? What are your parents like? Do they mind that you live here in Paris and not at home with them?”
Zera had finished her fries but still had about half her burger to go. Dane enjoyed being with a woman who ate. The constant diet fads and body-shaming that went with women of different sizes was exhausting and wrong on so many levels. While Zera had a model-slim body, it wasn’t from lack of eating. After spending this past week with her, Dane could attest to that fact.
“I’m an only child,” she replied. “Just like you.”
He shook his head. “I have two sisters now,” Dane said. “My other sister was killed a year ago.”
“And by “now” you mean because you found out who your biological father is.”
Dane was only marginally shocked that she knew about that. The Donovans were known worldwide and the story of Bailey’s kidnapping and its connection to the paternity test had made national news.
“Yes,” he told her. “My paternal father and I were joined by a paternity test. With those results also came more siblings. Aunts, uncles, and cousins as well.”
“You do not sound as if you consider that a good thing.”
“It is,” Dane said. “That is how this new business venture came to be. So I am grateful for that.”
“Is everything about business with you, Dane? What about your personal life? What about you just taking time to be you?”
She’d done it again, and not as smoothly as she probably thought she had. Zera always steered his questions away from her. She would give him just a little of herself and then pull back. But that was only in one area, Dane thought as he finished his burger and sat back in his chair. There was one particular way in which Zera could not hold back or hide her feelings from him.
“Are you finished?” Dane
asked.
He was standing before she could answer.
“Yes,” she replied. “I guess so.”
Dane reached for her hand. When she placed it in his, he pulled her up from the chair. He didn’t have to tell her what he wanted. Zera knew because she wanted it too. In this area, they had that type of communication where the words weren’t really necessary. So this was the area Dane told himself to focus on. It was the place where he had some control.
Zera placed a hand on his cheek and Dane leaned into the warmth of her touch. He turned his face so that he could kiss her palm, before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. She grabbed his shoulders and he kissed her, his tongue immediately dueling with hers. This kiss wasn’t normal. Dane knew this instantly. Nothing between them was normal. The hunger they had for each other never seemed to be sated. Instead, he fed off her desire for him like she was a feast and he was always famished.
As if on cue she lowered her arms and pushed at his shorts. Dane moved her hands away.
“Not yet,” he told her after tearing his mouth away from hers.
He ignored her questioning gaze and pulled that piece of a shirt up and over her head in seconds. Her unbound breasts bounced and he groaned. It took tremendous restraint, but Dane did not touch them. Instead he pulled the snap of her shorts open and pushed them down her legs. She flattened her hands on his back as he leaned over and allowed her to take each leg out of the shorts. On his way up, Dane placed an open-mouthed kiss over the swatch of pale pink silk that covered her mound.