My Secret Alpha Step SEAL

by Paula Mabbel

  Debby, shamelessly grinning, perused the class, making various comments at some canvases. She finally stopped at my side, deliberately silent, like she wanted to give me the chance to admit she had done a marvelous job with this.

  I eventually gave in.

  “Nice job, Debby.”

  “I know, right?” She could barely contain her boastfulness.

  “Is he wearing colored lenses?” I asked, after a while.

  “Nope.”

  I looked at him again. It couldn't be true. That blue could only be artificial, surely.

  And then I wondered about the unfairness on Earth. Why did some have to look so gorgeous while others had to struggle with all sorts of undesirable features? I mean, really? He looked like a freaking god! Oh, how cruel life is, I thought, shaking my head.

  My philosophical ponderings were interrupted by his perfect pose. My eyes lingered over his form, sighing.

  The way the light touched his fair skin made me jealous, the shadows it made around his perfectly sculpted abs a reason for countless hard swallows.

  His black hair, styled just modern enough but in no way looking like he wanted to emulate some trendy pop star, looked like it was sucking up the sunlight like some sort of trap of darkness. I shook my head again, trying not to lose my mind with such menial details. But damn, those details, I thought.

  “He’s Russian,” Debby whispered conspiratorially. “Piotr. And he’s a mobster. A Russian mobster.”

  I snapped my head to her, utterly shocked. She winked and left me with my mouth wide open. Again.

  She didn't come within earshot again for the rest of the class. “What is she playing at?” I asked myself.

  By the end of what felt like the longest hour I've ever spent sketching, I was feeling properly stupid. The point of a model was to be looked at, analyzed, even creepily stared at, but I couldn't. I had the feeling I shouldn't, that it was inappropriate to take in that much beauty. It wasn't like I would've stared at a guy in a bar, for goodness’ sake! He was my model. Why was I feeling so strange?

  When Debby announced that we should get ready to finish, I just stopped, left my canvas and went outside. I needed some air so I opened a window in the large hallway.

  The wind was starting to blow around the fallen leaves, making them dance in a thousand shades of red. I sighed.

  “I think you've been single for too long, lovely,” I heard Debby behind me.

  “What's your point?”

  “Aw, come on, don't be like that!”

  I turned to face her, my lips pursed in indignation. It made her giggle.

  “OK, so what's the deal with this guy?”

  “No deal,” she shrugged. “What?”

  “You're up to something. And I would really appreciate it if I was kept in the loop.”

  While I couldn't stay mad at her for long, she did annoy me constantly. One day I’d explode, I knew it.

  She looked straight into my eyes, like she was considering how much to tell me.

  “Come on, spill it!”

  “Alright. He's single.”

  “And that concerns me…?” Although I was trying my hardest not to show it, I suspected Debby caught on with the fact that my stomach was doing acrobatics at the possibility of going out with Peter.

  “Oh, quit playing! Just say yes when he asks.”

  “Talking about me, I see.”

  His voice! I wished I could draw it.

  He hadn't changed out of the university-issued robe but looked gorgeous just the same.

  “Hi. I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Peter.”

  He had only the slightest of accents, enough to get my blood rushing. I cleared my voice.

  “Piotr, I know. I’m Dianne. Nice to meet you.”

  He shook my hand with an inkling of a bow.

  “I see that Deb has been talking about me.”

  I felt my face flush red with embarrassment.

  “Yes. She seems to be playing matchmaker.”

  “Is that so?” He turned to Debby, who raised her hands defensively.

  “Don't look at me like that. You both need it. I'll leave you know.”

  “There's no need, Deb. I have to go,” Peter said, and I felt a pang of sadness. “But I wouldn't dare to spite Deb here, so, Dianne, how would you feel about dinner?”

  I had to swallow hard.

  “Um, I…I'd like that.”

  “Good. Give me your number and we'll agree on the details later today. Is that alright?”

  I nodded, already fumbling with my phone. I seemed to have mysteriously forgotten my own number. I was so embarrassed, I didn't dare to look up until after he had already left.

  “You go, girl!” Debby cooed, and I could've choked her right there.

  *****

  We had agreed that he would pick me up at around 7 that night, and we would go for a walk before dinner. I had to ask where he was taking me, but he only said that I would like it.

  Why couldn't he just tell me? How was I supposed to know how to dress?

  I sighed, checking myself with a scrutinizing eye in the mirror.

  I'll just end up looking ridiculous, I thought, just as my phone started ringing.

  “Hey. Yes, I'll be right down.”

  From the mirror, an average-looking black girl was eyeing me, her expression saying, “Girl, you're gonna make a fool of yourself.” And I agreed.

  Tiptoeing to my shoes, I tried not to get too concerned with my appearance. After all, if he had just told me where we were going, I wouldn't have looked out of place.

  “God, I'm making things up. I haven't even seen the place!” I chastened myself.

  I took a deep breath and left my tiny apartment. In the street, I paused.

  “Oh, Lord. I'm not even dressed for his car,” I thought, trying to keep my mouth closed at the Rolls Royce parked at the curb.

  As I walked closer, he stepped out of the driver's side, his body the template God used to make angels. I was an above-average woman in height, but I felt tiny next to his frame, even with my high heels on.

  I looked up at him, taking in his smart, casual attire and feeling that I lacked everything in comparison.

  “Hi,” he greeted me. “You look lovely tonight.”

  I barely stifled a snort, in my head saying “As if.”

  “Thank you. You look very good yourself.”

  God, that smile!

  “Shall we?” he asked, pointing to the car.

  I nodded and went for the passenger door. I wasn't surprised when he stepped in front of me to open the car door. He just looked like the type.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, trying to pull my little black dress down discreetly.

  He smiled. “You don't really like not knowing, do you?”

  “Not really, no. I'm not one for surprises.”

  “Alright. Well, we're going to take a walk through a lovely garden until our meals are ready. You can even play in the water, if you want.”

  “Really?” I asked, waving a hand over my lap as if to say “Have you seen what I'm wearing?”

  I felt blood rushing to my face. And between my legs, when he followed my hand and let his gaze linger on my thighs. I swallowed hard.

  We spent the rest of the drive in silence, me trying to compose myself, him just looking gorgeous.

  Shortly, we arrived at a gate guarded by a heavyset black man. The man nodded at Peter and motioned for the gate to open. I wondered where we were.

  We drove some more on a cobblestone road, tall trees obscuring the view on both sides. He finally stopped the car in front of a small, one-story building. Out of nowhere, a valet came and caught his keys. I got out of the car before he could open the door for me again.

  “What is this?” I asked, not knowing how this could be considered any sort of restaurant.

  “It's a private club sort of thing,” he answered casually, taking my hand. I felt heat gathering in a swirl in my stomach and struggl
ed to breathe for a second.

  To my surprise, we didn't go inside. He guided me around the building and onto a terrace with wrought-iron tables, some a bit rusty even. A delicate light was coming from the floor on every side of the wooden deck. Most surprising of all, though, was the old tree growing right in the middle of everything. I was so amazed, I couldn't stop grinning.

  “I'm glad you like it,” I heard him behind me, so close I could feel the buttons of his shirt on my bare skin. My lungs malfunctioned for a second, as I fought the urge to lean back against him, forget about anywhere else but this magical place.

  The place was completely deserted and it took me a while to realize there was some discreet background music floating through the air. It was just too quiet to be real.

  He took his hands off my waist and showed me to a table in the middle of the terrace, just under the delightfully aromatic tree. I had never seen anything like it.

  “Would you like if we sat here?” he asked, pulling out a chair.

  “Aren't we going to take a walk first?”

  He chuckled. “Of course. I thought you might've wanted to get the feel of this place before that.”

  “Oh, I got the feel, alright. It's gorgeous. And a bit too much for a first date, don't you think?”

  He shrugged, which made me let out a laugh. “You don't look like the type who knows how a normal first date looks,” I said, shaking my head in amusement.

  “What's wrong with this, then?”

  His face was precious. I couldn't stop laughing. “Nothing's wrong. It's perfect. Too perfect.”

  “Oh, you haven't seen anything yet!” he warned me, pushing my chair back under the table.

  “Oh, really? Using all your ammunition on me, then?”

  “Well, when I want something, I make sure I get it.”

  “For your information, Mr. Piotr, I don't fall that easily for anyone, wealthy or otherwise. I have to like the person before the flashy things.”

  “Then I shall make it my mission to show you the person behind all these flashy things. Although, I think this particular place doesn't look too flashy. I believe they aimed for a serene and earthy feel, don't you think?”

  I laughed and he followed.

  “OK, mister. Where do we get our serene and earthy food, then? I'm starving.”

  With a discreet flick of his wrist, he summoned out of thin air a short man dressed like a high-end cook. He didn't have any menus but looked like he was expecting us to order nonetheless. I glanced at Peter.

  “He can make anything. Just tell him what you want.”

  “No way,” I blurted out.

  “Yes way,” the man answered and I could guess a French accent somewhere.

  “OK. Then, how about a burger. Can you do such peasantly food?” I challenged.

  “There's nothing peasantly about a good burger,” the cook said and I agreed wholeheartedly. “Shall I make it regular or Kobe beef?”

  “Kobe. And make two. Garnish it with anything you want,” Peter ordered.

  The small man nodded and left us.

  “Walk?” Peter asked, offering me his arm.

  “Sure.”

  He guided me back down the wooden steps and onto a cobblestone paved alley that turned out to be a bit too much for my feet. I ended up barefoot, walking on the grass beside the pavement.

  “What is it?” he asked, hearing my sigh.

  I shook my head. “This is actually amazing.”

  “Oh. Did you have low expectations for tonight?”

  “Kind of. I mean, I didn't know what to expect, but certainly what I had in mind was way flashier than this. I was obviously mistaken.”

  “It's alright. I'm not your typical Russian mobster. Or so they keep telling me.”

  I felt embarrassed. He had figured out I knew and was making fun of me for fitting him into a stereotype.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…”

  “No need to apologize. I can tell you haven't had much contact with this sort of…life.”

  “You can tell, huh?”

  I stepped back at his side, slipping a hand in his.

  “Yes. Mainly from your impression that we're all sons of Mother Russia.”

  His forced heavy accent made me laugh so suddenly, I almost snorted.

  “So, you're not?” I asked, after recovering.

  “Oh, we are, alright. But I was just saying…”

  “Oh, my God, tonight is going to be amazing,” I said, sincerely happy about the prospect.

  “You think?” he asked. I nodded. He stopped abruptly and lifted my chin so I could look into his devilishly blue eyes.

  “The other reason I figured you weren't used to having Russian mobsters around is that, if you were, I would’ve made sure we met a long time ago.

  “Oh?” I couldn't say more, I felt I was drowning in happiness.

  “Yeah. Because if I saw you around, I would've taken you.”

  Oh, Lord.

  *****

  “I'm here, polka dot.”

  I grinned at my phone, which prompted Debby to turn her full attention on me.

  “Was that from Pete?” she asked, coming closer. I nodded, the stupid grin impossible to contain.

  “Well?” she insisted.

  “He told me he’s here, that's all.”

  “A date in the middle of the day?” she gasped. “Naughty, naughty.”

  “It's not a date,” I protested. “I forgot something in his car last night and he's bringing it to me now.”

  I was blushing for no good reason, trying to explain myself before Debby’s scrutinizing eye.

  “Oh, my God!”

  “What?” Whenever she did that it meant she’d figured something out. It never ended well.

  “Oh, my God!” she restated, to emphasize the magnitude. “I wonder how he managed not to. How long has it been, like three weeks?”

  “What are you rambling about?” Jesus, she made me nervous.

  “It must mean he really likes you. When I went out with him — God, that was so long ago! — we slept together on the first date! He usually does that, you know?”

  “What? Shut up!”

  “He really likes you, I'm telling you. He really, really, really likes you.”

  She was singing the words like a child, making the remaining few students in the room eye us curiously. I just wanted the Earth to swallow me.

  “Shut up, it's not like that. And why do you think we haven't…?”

  “Well, for one thing, you can't even say ‘sex’ next to his name,” she laughed. “And second, believe me, I'll know when you do the deed. You'll hide in the bathroom and call me.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don't do that. I never do that, you know it.”

  “Oh, girl, everybody does after they've slept with Pete.”

  At first, I didn't understand what she meant. Then I wanted to hide away somewhere because it would be impossible to get that image out of my head.

  “I knew you caught my drift. Good luck having a proper conversation with his huge dick on your mind.”

  She left me there, as she always did, my mouth open, hands shaking in frustration and ripples of heat in my core. I cleared my throat, trying to get some composure before meeting Peter. God, I hated Debby in that moment.

  “Freakish,” she mouthed, as I scurried out the door.

  I knew it wouldn't end up well. All I could think of now was Peter's dick.

  In the campus parking lot, I tried to locate his car, grateful that I didn't find it right away. It gave me time to get a grip on myself.

  Soon, I realized I had been searching for too long. “Where is he?” I asked aloud. As if he had heard me, he honked, making my heart jump. I turned in that direction and saw him leaning on the passenger door of a vintage car. Of course I couldn't find him. He had changed cars.

  “I'm sorry, I forgot to mention I took the Morgan. But you looked cute searching for me.”

  I felt blood rus
hing to my face and looked down. On their way to the ground, my eyes passed over his crotch, which immediately brought to mind Debby’s words. It didn't make matters any better.