“Right, coffee.”
“You need a hand, Bunny?”
“No. Make yourselves at home.”
I found a tray and loaded it with mugs, sugar and milk while the kettle boiled, then poured a pot of coffee. I balanced the tray and walked to where the living area opened up, hefting it onto the small table opposite the sofa.
“Help yourselves.”
Yannick joined us, sitting gingerly next to Sandir, the two of them taking up so much space it was almost comical. I loaded sugar into my mug, waiting until both had poured theirs before fixing my own, then sat cross-legged on the floor wondering who was going to speak first. Turned out Yannick did, and he wasn’t shy airing his laundry in front of Sandir.
“Irina was penance for something I did when I was in my early twenties. I’m in the process of dissolving our business contract, she was my wife in name only. I swear to you, I wasn’t playing games with you, Jolie.”
“Well, it really didn’t feel that way.”
“I know. Maybe we should have had this conversation earlier, so we were clear with one another.”
“It was one night. Nothing that changed our lives. Thank you for trying to explain, but really, there’s no need. What’s done is done.”
“You know, Bunny,” Sandir waded in. “You’re talking a lot of horseshit there.”
I gaped at him for being so blunt, then laughed. “You don’t mince your words, I see.”
“Not at all. I call it like I see it.” He gulped down his coffee, then abruptly stood. “Listen, this is none of my business but he’s trying. Hear him out, yeah?”
“You got a lady waiting at home for you?”
Smirking at me, he said, “Ain’t no one hung around long enough to put up with my shit.” He gave a look to Yannick I couldn’t decipher.
“I should let you get some sleep.” Yannick’s eyes tracked around the room, smiling when he fixed his gaze on a photograph of me and Carol behind the bar at Caulder’s. Sandir took a step closer to the wall, smiling too.
“Great picture,” he motioned with his hand. It was, I loved Caulder’s and the people I worked with.
Sandir didn’t hang around for much longer, sweeping down to kiss the top of my head in a display of affection usually reserved for friends, and leaving Yannick looking awkward as he sat there. He had something to say, but it looked like he was deciding whether or not it was the right thing. Eventually he sighed, looking away.
“If you want to get a hold of me, ask Bill. He’ll know where to find me. I’m going to leave the ball in your court here while I go sort my shit out.” Pushing up from the sofa, he stalked toward me and this time, the kiss was sweet and gentle, a promise perhaps, yet he didn’t push. “Our night was not a mistake, not a notch in my belt, not getting back on the train. I’ll see you again. I just hope you can see what I told you was the truth. You’re worth far more than a fumble in a hotel room, Jolie. Believe me.”
I stood in my front room long after both men had left and wondered what it would be like to have that man, to truly have him. The thought was terrifying, but not so much I couldn’t imagine it, and maybe I would see him again, on what premise I didn’t like to guess. I just hoped it was on better terms and we could leave our past encounters where they belonged.
Irina
Hands clasped behind his back, Neil held his frame exquisitely. His chef whites weren’t particularly appealing, but I was well acquainted with what was underneath despite his young features, and the clothes would be gone soon enough to reveal all the man I desired.
“You hungry?” I asked.
“It would depend what for, Mrs Ischmova.”
He was such a quick study, played into the game so effortlessly, which was why he’d lasted so long and hadn’t been fired within a month. A man I could easily bend to my will, unlike my husband.
“I’m a little hungry myself.”
“For what?”
“You’re not that dumb, surely?”
“No, Ma’am.” He grinned, his eyes still zeroed in on the floor. “Now?”
Studying my fingernails, I feigned boredom and made him wait a few more minutes before asking him to look at me. “Get out of those goddamn awful whites.”
“Here?”
“Yes, right here.” I pointed at him.
The chef wasn’t shy, submissive, definitely not shy. While he stripped off, I strolled around him, circling my prey. “I’m hungry for something…”
“Clearly.”
“On the table.” I shivered watching those lithe limbs climbing up on to the kitchen table. When he lay on his back, already painfully hard for me, my nipples tightened to rock hard points. Just looking at him laid out like a feast had me thrumming for some friction.
“You know the rules.”
“I do, Mrs Ischmova.”
“Good boy.” I didn’t stop to bother undressing, wearing only a nightgown and a robe, both barely hitting my knees. “Hold on to the edge.”
He did, his fingers circling around the smooth curve of the table. Wasting little time, I climbed up and shifted onto his body, knees either side of his hips. “You make me come, I’ll reward you for it.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Oh, he’d make me come all right, the incentive did no harm in making sure he was eager to please.
Lifting on my knees, I slid into place with practiced ease, I’d been having sex this way as long as I could remember. I never touched cock and the way his was pointing, it was easy to sit on him and take the glorious inches he had, then fuck myself off.
Rocking back and forth, the pleasure
