Sergei told me I was to be a hostess at a small party. But it turned out to have almost a hundred guests. Even though his Moscow penthouse was enormous, there were people everywhere. Many of the guests were young and there was an abundance of attractive Russian women who all looked like supermodels.
One of Sergei's Russian girlfriends had dressed me the way he liked. It was very much at odds with the modest attire I had grown up with. She made me wear a green lacy bra with a matching thong and a very short black minidress with a halter neck. It was so tight, that it appeared to be painted on me. It left my back bare and displayed the backstrap and shoulder straps of my bra. She made me wear strappy stiletto sandals that made me very tall.
I saw Sergei take Jack aside as soon as he arrived. Of course, I did not know who Jack was yet, but it was impossible to miss him. He was so tall, so good-looking, my eyes were drawn to him, and I could not look away. Sergei guided him out onto the enormous balcony overlooking the main city park.
Sergei crooked his finger at me, and I came over with my head down. He put his hand on my chin and raised my face.
"Her name is Parveen Aziza Abdulayeva," Merkulov said. "You saw her sinuous, sexy gait as she came over, Jack. She's a natural. As you can see, her skin and figure are perfect -- creamy smooth complexion with firm breasts, a tight ass, and supermodel legs that go on forever. Silky black hair out of a shampoo commercial. And her eyes! Lustrous, green pools that suck you in."
"You're beautiful," Jack said, speaking to me instead of Sergei.
"Would you believe she was given to me to settle a financial debt?" Sergei said briefly. "I literally own her! And she's still a teenager!"
When Jack did not respond, I asked Sergei, "Do you want me to kiss him?"
"Listen to her husky, bedroom voice!" he laughed. "And such a pleasing foreign accent to her Russian, part Arabic, part Southern republics. She was born into the al Sura family, desert chieftains in the Arabian Peninsula. But her mother was a Chechen slave that her father bought from human traffickers. He used her as a concubine."
"I don't want you to kiss me," said Jack, again speaking to me and not to Sergei.
"Are you gay?" asked Sergei. "Any real man would kill to kiss Parveen Aziza."
"I'm not gay," said Jack. "Though I have nothing against gays."
"I do, I'm not so politic," said Sergei laughing. With his mercurial temperament, his mood changed suddenly to deadly serious. "So, Jack. You want me to help you get mining licenses in Siberia from the government."
"A partnership," Jack replied. "Your legal team signed on to the equity joint venture at the airport. You'll make a lot of money."
"If you find anything."
"We'll find a lot. Our geologists are certain there are rich seams there. All the data supports that view."
"We're legal partners, but I'm not going to shake your hand, Jack. My interests on the other side of the law are much more lucrative and I'm more worried about what happens to them. Whenever you show up, law enforcement seems to follow."
"I don't know what you mean," said Jack, his face expressionless.
"You showed up in Stockholm -- and a month later Alexander Kutuesov who ran drugs and prostitution for me in Scandinavia was arrested."
"I had nothing to do with that. I never met Kutuesov."
"But you slept with his favorite girlfriend, Vigdis Axelsdottir. Then she disappeared from his life. He was so enraged that he took out a contract on your life -- and kept upping the price. That got the police onto him." (See my story, Jack Grierson Chronicles -- Casey.)
"He was assassinated while being taken to court," said Jack. "A long-range sniper shot."
"I had no option. I couldn't risk him talking, he knew too much."
"I didn't know Vigdis was his girlfriend."
"So you say. But I look at your record and see a pattern. You make men irate because you know angry men make mistakes. Nothing makes a man more furious than being cuckolded. You did the same thing to Prince Mushtaq, slept with his favorite concubine, stole her affections. You got Mushtaq so angry, he spent all his time with his terror groups trying to get to you -- while you quietly bought out all his hotel operations in the Middle East." (See my story, Jack Grierson Chronicles -- Leyla.)
"He gave me Leyla, I didn't steal her."
"Details," said Sergei, briefly. He looked over at me and put a hand on my cheek. "Parveen Aziza is my favorite girl, she has just the right mix of innocence and raunch. Large, guileless eyes, but she squeals out her passion when I whack her ass as I fuck her. She's the cliché come to life -- a Madonna in the living room, a whore in the bedroom." Sergei paused and looked at Jack with a trace of malevolence. "I'm going to keep her, Jack. Keep your thoughts on our mining deal -- not her."
"Of course," said Jack.
Sergei was beckoned by one of his men and walked away without another word.
"What do you want to do?" I asked.
"Talk," said Jack. "And drink."
"I can do that," I said, smiling. I flagged down a waiter and selected two flutes of Bollinger's champagne, handing one to Jack. When I put my flute forward, he clinked it saying, "Zavas!"
"Zavas," I responded.
"Don't you find me attractive?" I asked after we both took sips of our champagne.
"Of course, I do," said Jack.
"You're a funny one," I said with a laugh. "When Sergei asks me to entertain someone, they have their hands up my skirt within the first two minutes."
"Has it happened often?" he asked.
I wrinkled my nose and Jack could see I was angry. Strangely, he smiled kindly in response.
"Four times. Every instance was pure hell! Horrid, uncouth men. They don't want me to talk. They like ripping my expensive clothes off me and groping me. They treat me like a piece of meat. They would fuck me if Sergei would let them."
"He doesn't let anyone else fuck you?"
"Not so far."
"So you are Merkulov's mistress?"
His kind smile reassured me, and I let my anger go.
"Mistress?" I laughed. "No, no. I'm a slave. Like my mother before me."
"What do you mean?"
"Sergei bought me from my husband, Hamal Abdulayev. He's Chechen like my mother. But he'd borrowed a lot of money from Sergei and couldn't pay it back. Sergei was going to have his kneecaps and elbows broken. Hamal asked Sergei to take me as the price of forgiving his debt."
"Your husband sold you like an animal?" Jack sounded disgusted.
"It was just business. Poor Hamal was petrified." I shrugged. "It didn't seem that abnormal to me. After all, my father bought my mother from Chechen human traffickers to be one of his concubines."
"Your father is an al Sura? A chieftain?"
"Yes. But my mother was a concubine, not a wife. So I have no status within our family. I'm used to being treated as property."
Jack's gray-blue eyes were very expressive and registered emotion -- it almost looked like my words hurt him.
"You speak of your mother in the past tense. How did she die?"
"My father beat her a lot. She was very unhappy. I don't think she had much will to live."
