I pull out gently as she exhales. Cool air washes over my cock. Already, I miss the heat of her body.
“Don’t move,” I say, caressing her firm globes as I get to my feet.
We need a shower, but it can wait a few minutes. I’ve thoroughly worn her out.
In the bathroom, I wet a facecloth and grab a towel. Gently, I clean her up. I even have enough brain cells left to call Lena and tell her to prepare a tray with the dinner and leave it in front of the bedroom door.
As I settle next to Katerina on the bed and pull her close, I can’t help but bask in the knowledge that I own her on every physical level. It’s only fair, seeing that she owns me, heart and soul. The words I never thought I’d say to any woman are on the tip of my tongue, threatening to spill over my lips, but she’s already dozing off and this is hardly the moment.
I don’t say things I don’t mean. I don’t make promises lightly. The day I tell Katerina I love her is the day I’ll put a ring on her finger. The words are sacred. They deserve to be saved for a special occasion. And since she may not be on board with where I plan to take our relationship, she may need the consolation of those words when she realizes that in this matter also, I’m not giving her a choice.
18
Kate
One day rolls into the next, and before I know it, it’s Thanksgiving. Nobody celebrates it in Russia, of course—it’s a purely North American holiday—but I can’t help thinking about the big home-cooked meal I’d be having with my mom if it weren’t for the fact that she’s at the treatment center while I’m halfway across the world. Worse yet, I might not see her for Christmas.
Alex must notice my mood because he encourages me to call my mom that evening, something I’m always more than happy to do. He has Lena make a cup of hot chocolate for me and then considerately gives me privacy.
By now, he trusts me enough to believe I won’t ask my mom to contact the embassy or something along those lines.
Once I’m settled on the sofa with the cup of hot chocolate in my hands, I dial my mom.
“Hey, honey,” she says, sounding out of breath. “How are you?”
“We’re good. More importantly, how are you?”
“Great. We’ve just finished an aerobics session in the heated pool. The water is marvelous. Oh, and guess what? I’m losing more weight. My pants are so loose I’ll have to go on a shopping spree soon.”
I smile at her enthusiasm. “How’s the treatment going? Are you feeling an improvement?”
“Absolutely. The diet makes a huge difference. I love the holistic approach here. It makes so much more sense than simply swallowing a few pills. I’m doing an electronic detox at the same time, and a break from social media is doing me wonders.” She lowers her voice. “I dare say, I love the doctor the most. Dr. Hendricks is a charming man, not to mention brilliant. He’s done so much for people suffering from my condition.”
“Yeah, well, it’s okay to admire him. Just don’t take it beyond the professional.”
She utters a forced little cough.
“Mom!” I press a hand to my forehead. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“We haven’t taken things to a physical level if that’s what you’re worried about. We felt we should wait until after the treatment. It wouldn’t be professional, you know, to take it further now.”
I leave my drink on the coffee table and shift to the edge of my seat. “You make it sound serious.”
“Don’t worry, honey. We’re just enjoying each other’s company and having fun. I’m not planning on marrying him.”
“Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea to flirt with the staff.”
“We’re only getting to know each other.” She clears her throat. “In fact, he’d very much like to meet you and Alex when you come for Christmas.”
I take a deep breath. “About that… We may not be back before Christmas after all.”
There’s a moment of silence on the line. “That’s a long break from work you’re taking, honey,” Mom says finally. “Is something wrong?”
Crossing my fingers, I say, “Not at all. Alex is just very busy with some projects here, and I don’t want to return to New York on my own.”
“Ah. Well, don’t worry about it, honey. I completely understand, although I was looking forward to seeing my future son-in-law.”
I cringe. “Mom.”
“He’s serious about you, Katie. Anyone can see that.”
“Do you need anything?” I ask, eager to change the subject. “Snacks? Toiletries? I can arrange for an internet delivery.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I have everything I need.”
“Okay. Let me know if—” I catch myself. “Send a text message to Alex if you’re running short on something.”
“Will do. I miss you, honey.”
I swallow down an untimely sob. “Miss you too, Mom.”
Before she can hear the emotions tearing up my chest, I hang up.
As the days march on and Christmas approaches, I feel increasingly homesick. No matter what I’m doing, my mind often drifts off to nostalgic memories of the holiday. On Christmas Eve, my mom and I would take a taxi to Manhattan. We’d brave the cold to admire the Christmas lights and the giant tree at Rockefeller Center before having a special dinner at home and exchanging gifts.
Fortunately, the winter holiday spirit isn’t lacking in Alex’s house, even though I’ve learned that Russians celebrate Christmas on January 7th, as per the Eastern Orthodox tradition. Since that’s considered a purely religious holiday, a lot of the Christmas traditions I’m familiar with—the tree, the gifts, the decorations—are instead part of the New Year’s celebration in Russia. Thus, the cookies Tima has been baking, the ones that fill the kitchen with the aromas of cinnamon, raisins, and vanilla, are for the New Year’s celebration, not Christmas. So is the tree with delicate glass ornaments that Lena has put up in the foyer, as well as the pine branches and red ribbons she’s tied around the balustrades. The pantry is stocked with cured meats and pickled fish for the men’s New Year’s Eve party rather than for Christmas lunch. Decorations have also gone up in the street, but they’re not visible from Alex’s bedroom windows. I have to climb up to the top floor to get a peek at the fairy lights that span across the road along the river. The lights aren’t colorful, like the ones back home, but white, depicting snowflakes, Christmas trees, and reindeer.
Not wanting to add to Alex’s problems by burdening him with my depressive mood, I keep my feelings to myself. I can’t say he’s not accommodating. He lets me speak to Joanne, June, and my mom on the phone every week. It helps, but I still miss them. I can’t shake this weird sense of sadness.
It’s not that I’m bored. There’s plenty to occupy me in the house, and Alex’s guards keep me busy. More often than not, their ailments are minor, but I welcome the visits. It provides me with human contact, even if our different languages don’t always permit communication. Sadly, my Russian isn’t improving much. I asked Tima to teach me a few words, but with all the conjugations and male or female nouns, the language is much more difficult to master than I imagined. I try to stay positive, but even the walls of a palace can get to be too much after several weeks.