My fingers grazed the shimmery opaque fabric, and I bent, slowly running them all the way up from my ankle. My hairfell over my shoulders, and I arched my back, peeking in his direction. He was lightly shaking his head, a grin curling the side of his mouth. He took a drag of his cigarette.
And didn’t tell me to stop.
I scooted a little closer to the edge of the table and acted my way through smoothing the top of the short dress that so uncomfortably bunched up around my curves. How unfortunate it’d ridden up so high.
The tip of the cigarette glowed. He didn’t move.
I slowly uncrossed my knees… and paused.
Two of the Moscow men were watching me. One said something to the other and nodded. A bidding war for cattle stock to be taken home that night.
Vitali saw my hesitation and followed my gaze, then returned to me with a curious expression.
What they can never have.
I breathed deep, trying to keep my nerves from showing.
Katya didn’t like this situation. ButVitali’s Kotikdid.
My heart raced. Feminine voices and the clinking of glasses at my back amplified my sense of being exposed. Thrilling, uninhibiting.
I kept my eyes locked with his as my knees parted, but only far enough to give him a glimpse of where the seam met the fold of my inner thigh. Then, crossed them once more, this time at the ankle, and dragged my hand slowly up and up, until it rested at the hem of my dress, over my panties.
Oh God—his expression. The look of a man dying of thirst in the desert taking a whiff of aged red wine.
My core tightened and I exhaled, lightly pressing the dress with two fingers as I dragged them down from my navel.
He glanced at my admirers, but I didn’t. At thatmoment, it seemed important that my eyes remain on him. Only him.
The dress was short—so short. I’d only have to push it up a little to run fingers between my legs.
I couldn’t believe it. The sobering notion (as if I’d had anything to drink but tea) occurred to me that there were two old, gross men, leering and discussing me, and I was prepared to go further becausehewas watching, andhewas proud.Hisgaze made me wet, and the rest didn’t matter.
I arched my back, my chest pushed out and the gold laying heavy around my neck. I slowly reached.
Vitali’s hold on the cigarette slackened, and eyebrow twitched upward as I clenched my hand between my thighs, massaging two fingers against myself through the fabric.
From the first time I met him when I uselessly tried to learn poker, the one thing I knew how to read were his silent commands. And the hesitancy on his face was exquisite, right up until he gave the subtle nod. I parted my knees again, slower this time, so he could see the outline of my fingers.
My heart raced. He took a drag.
But I had no chance to go further (and could I?) because the cigar group broke apart.
Vitali’s steps were frighteningly fast. He didn’t say a word, just held my coat for me so I could slide it on, placed a hand at the back of my neck (affection or disguising as affection? The hard grip made it difficult to tell), and led me outside. It wasn’t until we were at the car that he spun me around, pinning me against the Mercedes door.
“The way you crossed your legs. You knew they were watching you, Kotik. You wanted to show them what’s mine, didn’t you?” His breathy words were hardly above a whisper, but the low bass of his voice made the volume impossible tocontrol. The hand on the back of my neck slightly shook, fingers tense and fighting his emotion. “Really surprised me. Made me very happy. I think you deserve a reward.”
* * *
About Russia:
dachas– country houses and gardens located outside the city, usually on a small plot of land. In the Soviet era, they were provided to citizen so they could grow food. Many still belong to the families and are used as summer houses or weekend getaways
23
Good Boy
The promised reward for my somewhat awkward attempt to seduce Vitali turned out to be a long, silent car ride down streets I didn’t recognize.
