I continued to fire questions at Svetlana, as the alcohol was acting like a truth serum, causing her to be surprisingly honest.
"What part does Stacey play in this?" I asked.
"You will see her tomorrow. She has changed since you last saw her. She is Adrian's ideal physical representation of how women should look. Adrian wants Sara and I to aspire to be like her. I think Adrian is going to give Stacey to you when we get back to San Clemente. Well for twelve months, I understand. His plan is to divert your mind from Sara, while you wait for the divorce to be finalized. I feel sorry for you. You are way too nice of a guy to deal with Stacey's bullshit, even if you will get to fuck her as much as you want."
"And," I said hesitantly, "your part Svetlana?"
I could see I had touched a nerve. The hard exterior that Svetlana fought to project, cracked for a split-second, and she looked wistful. Tears welled up in her eyes and it looked like she might break down. I asked her to sit up and she complied without question. I sat up too, carefully crossing my legs so that I could trap the tiny bell, and prevent it from ringing. Then I hugged her.
"You shouldn't be part of this sweet girl," I told her.
Svetlana literally cried on my shoulder as we embraced. She struggled to get her words out through her sobs.
"I never imagined being an old man's plaything. I just wanted someone to love and respect me. They don't need to be my age, just a good guy. Every guy I have ever known has either been like Adrian or Ivan. Either a rich older man, who because of the financial component of the relationship, felt entitled to fuck my ass or come on my face. Or a gangster, who through fear and intimidation, could force me into road-head against my will. Ivan came in my mouth twice in just a few hours, and I barely even know him."
"I am so sorry, Svetlana, I had no idea," I interrupted. "I thought maybe you guys had some history."
"Adrian, that selfish prick, asked me to write down a list of my hard sexual limits when we first met. I admit I didn't have many, but water sports was definitely one of them. Adrian told me that one of his favorite sexual activities was to piss on a young woman. He made me move that from a 'hard limit' to a 'negotiable limit'. Then, as soon as I agreed, he started to negotiate. I settled on a 'boob job' and five thousand dollars, for a once a week golden shower. Adrian, ever the asshole, wanted it on his calendar."
"On his calendar?" I asked with a confused look.
"Part of his regular weekly schedule. So, every Wednesday at noon, I would slink up to his master bathroom, and kneel patiently on the floor of his shower enclosure. Adrian often kept me waiting as he pounded a few beers. Then, somewhen between ten and fifteen minutes later, he would saunter in with a full bladder, and urinate all over me."
"Every week?" I muttered to no-one in particular.
"I hated this weekly debasement," Svetlana continued. "Especially as Adrian kept moving the goalposts. First, he would schedule my hair and makeup team to his house, at eleven o'clock every Wednesday morning. The team would beautify me to Adrian's specifications, taking upwards of an hour to get me picture perfect. Of course, they would ask me what the special occasion was each and every week. No doubt, Adrian had engineered that question."