“Yes, very.”
He put the mugs down on the floor and put his arm around her. She turned her head to him, and he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss of exploration. When she opened her mouth to him, he put his tongue inside her. They kissed for several minutes, neither of them in a hurry to get to the next stage. When he eventually made a move, she helped him. She stood back from him, took off her cardigan, and began to open her blouse. He quickly took off his T-shirt, and when he did, it made her stop. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. All she could see was brown skin on top of perfectly formed muscles. She had never seen a man with a ribbed stomach. It made her hornier still.
Soon they stood naked in front of each other. His penis prodded into her as they kissed, and he felt her hard nipples against his chest. He ran his hand down her back and cupped her buttocks. “You've got a perfect ass,” he whispered. She kissed his neck and put her hand on his shaft. Andrey sighed and let his head fall back. Soon, however, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He put her down gently and opened her legs.
“I want to taste you,” he said as he put his mouth to her womanhood. She gasped as he licked up over her clitoris and then back down. “Oh, that's nice. Do that,” she instructed when she felt him press her clit between his lips. He continued as she'd asked, and soon she started to pant. The noise she was making turned him on more, and his rock-hard shaft poked painfully into the bed. When she shouted, “now, now,” he kept up the pressure, and she came.
“Was that nice?” he asked. She only nodded and held out her arms for him to come up and make love to her. The scent of her was driving him wild, and he quickly accepted her invitation. As he pushed into her, they kissed deeply and passionately. She pushed her pelvis up to greet his thrusts and rubbed her hands over his back. “You are more than beautiful,” he whispered into her ear. His words pushed her further toward another orgasm, and when he increased the speed of his thrusts, she clung on to him and cried out.
“God, your hard,” she moaned as she came down from her plateau. “You're so big and hard, and I love it.” He was covered in sweat now, and she liked the ease with which her hands could slide over his skin. When she dropped her hands to his buttocks, she felt him twitch inside her. She leaned into his neck. “Come on, give it to me.” When he came, she felt his hot semen shooting into her in jet-like bursts. She put her legs around his back and held on to him. It was only then that she really took any notice of how beautiful their bodies looked together: black and white.
“You want to do what?” Andrey said as they lay next to each other. He pushed himself up, leaned on one arm, and listened more attentively.
“I want to do an interview with Maxim Sokolov. He owns this place, doesn't he? Which means you must work for him.”
“I don't work for him. I work with him, and soon I won't be. I'm going out on my own. Why do you want to interview him?”
“Because he's the big boss, the one who got away and the only one anyone is interested in anymore.”
“You're mad, absolutely mad. A young woman like you has no chance with him. You won't even get in the door. In fact, he's more likely to murder you.”
“Well, I can try,” she said defensively.
“Get your clothes on and leave now. And let this be a warning to you: If I hear that you have been anywhere near him, I'll finish you off myself.”
“But Andrey, it was so lovely this evening. Why are you suddenly so—”
“Because you're pissing me off. Now get your ass out of here.”
*****
“Hello, Mr. Sokolov,” Mel said as the short, chubby man entered the Crab and Lobster. “What can I get you?” He was fifty-three, and he'd been a boxer in his youth, a good one. He'd built up a fearsome reputation, and that had lasted all these years. To date, no younger man had dared challenge his authority.
“Vodka and ice.” It hadn't been a good day. He'd lost three hundred thousand at cards, and what was worse, he'd lost to Graham Sander, a small-time crook from Newark.
“Here we are,” Mel said as she put the glass and bottle on the table. “Shall I get them something?” she asked him, referring to the two large men at the door.
“Coffee,” he grunted. Mel never felt at ease when he was in the restaurant. He was unpredictable and explosive. Once he'd pulled her hair when she'd spilled some water on him. She'd apologized a thousand times, but it hadn’t mattered; he'd made her suffer.
“So what's happening, Mel?” he asked after he'd thrown back two shots.
“Steady away, really, Mr. Sokolov. As always.”
“Tell me, who was that black woman who was here the other evening?”