“Well this is the same, just a bit slower.” Octavia sat in the chair and held the wheel. “Now push that lever forward gently,” he said. She complied, and the boat’s engines began to roar. As their speed increased, he looked at her. “Shall we throw your bodyguard?”
“If we do, they'll only send someone to get me and the trip will be over. Do you know they're a real pain? Do you remember what you said to me, that evening in the embassy?”
“About people's problems?”
“Yes. Well, I've thought about it, and you are right. I feel trapped. I hate what I'm doing, and I hate being watched all the time, especially by a media that doesn't understand that when they print bad things about me, it hurts.”
“I understand,” he said as he watched her face become sorrowful.
“I never wanted to go to Harvard, and now I'm there. I actually hate it more than I thought possible. Most of all, I hate what I'm studying.” Slava put his hand on hers in a show of solidarity. Much of what she was saying applied equally to him. “I've spent hundreds of evenings sitting in front of my books, wishing they would go away,” she continued. “I have zero interest in the law, and even less interest in the type of people I'm studying with. Most of them are pretentious and shallow.” Slava thought he saw a small tear in the corner of her eye. “My parents are control freaks who think I should only marry a politician. I really don't think I can stand many more years in Washington. It's such a shallow existence.”
“Octavia,” he said as she quickly gathered the tear she thought he hadn't seen, “I really like you. You know that, don't you? I don't just want to be friends with you. I want more.”
She looked at him and ran her palm over his cheek. “And I like you very much too, and I have no intention of just being friends. You are far too handsome for that.”
Slava put his hand on hers and pulled back the lever she was holding until it would go no farther. The boat slowed, and eventually the engines cut. All they could hear was the water lapping under the boat and the odd seagull. “What did you do that for? We're just drifting now,” she said.
“Then let's do something about it. Pull that lever there,” he said, pointing to a long lever against the wall, to the side of the captain's chair. Octavia leaned across and pulled it. There was a loud sound at the bow and stern of the boat, and Octavia realized she had just lowered the anchor. “There. We won't move far now. We're about three miles off the coast and perfectly placed to pull into to Gladesville harbor for the night.”
“Why have we stopped?” she asked.
Slava didn't speak. He leaned toward her and kissed her. When Octavia stood up, he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. She put her hands around his neck and held on to him. “Oh, I've wanted you to do that since the moment I saw you,” she said when their kiss ended.
“Me too. I have just kissed the daughter of the president of the United States, and she tastes wonderful!” he said, throwing his arms up in the air like a soccer player who had just shot the winning goal in the World Cup. “Come with me,” he added. He took her hand and led her down some steps to the lounge. It had a gold ceiling and a floor made of beautifully polished wood. There were gold-colored sofas down both sides and high windows, through which was a superb view of the ocean. Slava went down another flight of stairs and through a narrow door. It was the master bedroom, and even Octavia, a woman accustomed to luxurious surroundings, gasped.
The bed stood in the middle of the room, and it was round. Above the bed was a glass roof that looked up to the sky. The room was mostly blue. It had blue carpet, blue pillows, and a blue counterpane. On the walls were murals of dolphins and whales, punctuated by small portholes.
Slava pushed Octavia onto the bed, and as she lay down, he straddled her midriff. When she looked up at him, she saw a look of extreme concentration as he brought his hands to the buttons on her blouse. Once he'd opened two buttons, he leaned down to her and whispered. “I've been watching you. No. In fact, I'd call it stalking you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have countless magazines at home. Not because I like the magazines, but because they contain pictures of you.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Two reasons. First, I think you are the most gorgeous woman alive, and I can't get enough of looking at you,” he said. He returned to unbuttoning her blouse.
“You forgot the second point,” she reminded him.
“Despite all the material on the internet that a man could use to satisfy his urges, I am proud to say that I had no use for the internet whatsoever.”
“Do you mean you used my photos to masturbate?” Octavia said, not quite knowing what to think.
“Plainly put, but correct,” he said.
“I'm not sure if I should be flattered or shocked.”