“What do you mean you didn't get to see it?” Sergey demanded. “You told me you had her eating from the palm of your hand.” Sergey was leaning against the wall in his store. Over the door, it said, Russian Store. It was really a front. Sergey used it to wash the cash he earned from his illegal drug dealing. The shop on Brighton Beach was big enough to put plenty of money through it but small enough to stay under the radar of the big boys.
He was not at all like his compatriot, Dima. He was short, overweight, and bald. The tattoo he had on his neck did nothing to enhance his appearance. They had been friends in Moscow and had come to America together to further their business interests. In the case of Sergey, that meant extortion, drug dealing, and contract killing. Since Dima had arrived in the US, he'd quickly realized that it was possible to make money legally. He was increasingly involved in real estate. He'd made a fortune in Russia by buying cheap stocks in major companies and selling them again. Luckily for him, he'd managed to get his cash to the US before the Rubel had crashed.
“I asked her to show me the room, but she made it sound so bland that it would have been too obvious for me to insist on seeing it. Who asks to see an empty room for the sake of it?”
“But we discussed it. You were going to get access to the room and check out the security details.”
“Well it didn't work out like that,” Dima hissed. He'd had enough of Sergey. If it weren't for the Hope Diamond, he'd have cut ties with him by now. Sergey had become a liability. When Dima found out Sergey had killed someone on behalf of the mafia, Dima had kept a safe distance from him. He'd only gotten back with him for one reason. Sergey was an expert in matters of security. Better said, he was an expert in overcoming it during bank raids. Dima had always wanted to own the Hope Diamond, and when he heard it was coming to New York, his interest had been awakened. Not that he wanted to make money from it; he just wanted to own it. Besides, he doubted whether he could sell it on the black market anyway. It was too famous, and he only knew a handful of people who had enough cash to buy it.
“So, how the hell do you want to proceed now?” Sergey picked up a red lolly from the counter and began to unravel the clear film around it.
“I've got a date with the sales girl. Don't worry, I'll find out what we need to know. She's sweet and soft, and I'm pretty sure I can unlock a few secrets.” He looked around the shop. It reminded him of so many stores in Moscow. He didn't want to be reminded of Moscow; it held no charm for him.
*****
She knew very well she shouldn't be there. It was slutty to go back to a man's apartment on the first date. But he was hotter than she could resist after two glasses of champagne, and the events of the last weeks had left her badly in need—in need of someone to hold her and tell her how special she was.
Three million, five million, thirty million, she had no idea, but she knew his apartment had cost in the millions. Nobody bought an apartment this size with a view of the harbor without reaching deep into their pockets. Dima had gone to find a corkscrew and left Tyra standing on the balcony. She didn't like heights, and she got a strange tingling sensation in her feet when she looked down from the penthouse, thirty floors above the streets of Manhattan. Three weeks ago, I would have jumped from here, she thought.
Just as a wave of despair threatened to envelop her again, it was smashed back by the feel of his protective arms. She hadn't heard him creep up on her from behind. Now he'd made a move, and she loved it. He stood behind her, wrapped her in his arms, and pulled her back into him. It made her feel safe and protected. As they looked over the city, she felt something behind her slowly moving against her leg.
“I want you, Tyra,” he said gently.
She turned and looked at him as he put his arms around her neck. “Take me to your bed and make love to me,” she said.
When Tyra felt his naked body on hers, a tear flowed over her cheek. He was handsome and caring, and he'd aroused a level of sexual desire in her that she'd never felt before. When he'd undressed her, it was as if he was unwrapping a precious gift. With each layer he'd removed, she'd felt herself moving to a higher plateau of lust. Once she was naked she'd wanted to dash under the bedclothes and hide, but he'd held her, caressed all of her, and made her wet. When he'd started to undress, she hadn't been able to resist the temptation to touch herself. He was her private male stripper, and she couldn't get enough of it. When he'd put his hand to his shorts and lowered them over his strong thighs, she'd found herself rubbing faster.
Now he was on top of her, naked and warm. He kissed her, and she opened her mouth to received his tongue. As they kissed, her legs opened, inviting him in. When she felt his penis against her, she reached down and placed it at her entrance. He looked deep into her eyes and pushed himself slowly inside her.