Max
There's a rage rising in me.
Shit! Shit! Shit! What an idiot that Igor is! It's his job. There's no one else. I know that
Polina wouldn't dig into my past herself!
I'm mad at Polina, too! What's with all this silence all this time?
I'm mad as hell!
Why?! Why did she keep quiet for so long? Why did she play these games with me? It's almost unbearable to contain my rage while remaining outwardly cold! It's getting to the of physical resistance. I feel like breaking or smashing something. My temples throb from the adrenaline in my blood. I have so carefully, methodically destroyed information about my , my connection to my kin, any family affiliation. For five long years I've been blurring my , hiding from the paparazzi and journalists in Britain. And here we are! This asshole gets on private property and digs up everything buried years ago.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Whoa!
Stop!!!
I need something to cool my head.
First I have to get home. Big luck, almost immediately I manage to stop a cab.
At home, without hesitation, I threw a clean sports uniform and sneakers into my sports bag, my clothes, and looked at my watch. I drank wine for nothing, now I can't ride a Harley.
After standing on the porch, I return to the lobby.
Fuck it! I'll ride a Harley. I've barely had a drink.
The streets are freer, and on some stretches you can accelerate the bike; I'm happy to press gas pedal, building up speed.
I rarely go to the club in the evening, and it's quite crowded, despite the late hour. I unleash my rage on the punching bag. I hammer until I feel my inner tension begin to release. I'm I can wring my pants. Under the prickly jets in the shower, I wash away the sweat running my body and cool my head.
But no matter how hard I try, exercise only relieves muscle tension. Now I'm unlikely to any loser that comes my way, but that doesn't mean that the internal heat has diminished.
The best medicine is sleep. It's the most sensible thing I can do for my fucked-up ego.
Sleep!
The morning always arrives on schedule and exposes everything that was hidden during the under a thick layer of impressions of the day gone by.
With a cup of coffee, sitting on the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard, I start to the situation.
The first most important one is Polina.
I was hurt that she hadn't said a word the whole time! That was the main reason for my rage.
Why didn't she voice her doubts right away? There was no logic in her explanation that she didn't to spoil our meeting. So this conversation might not have happened at all. But she went into past. My past!
Let's say I got information about her. What would I do? I wouldn't dig into anything, I don't want to know what she had before me, much less who she had! Polina, however, is me. She is quite unsophisticated, sometimes I feel that I got in touch with a schoolgirl who has be taught everything and her curiosity is not from the head, but from the heart. Sensuality in all her actions. Pragmatism, rationalism - it's not about her. She follows her desires.
That's what I'm gonna go from there.
I take a pencil from the cup holder and sketch.
She's interested in me as the kind of man she's completely honest with in bed. That's very . She has every right to be curious. Well, she cares who she's fucking. Then, in a nutshell, explanation is simple, as my friend John, a psychologist by training, would say, she has closed gestalt.
After the conversation, I myself had a beef with her.
Why would she let me have sex without a condom after doubting me?! It's beyond logic! It's fucked-up inconsistency. It really sucks.
Or is she confused? Why does she keep wondering how many women I've been with?
I can't hold back a wry smile. Is she jealous? I think back to our conversation the day we Ava. Polina herself admitted that she cried because of jealousy. Fuck! It was on the surface! I'm idiot! How could I have overlooked it? Laughter bursts out of me, clearing away the remnants of night's irritation. She's creepy possessive. Especially if she actually holds to the belief that 'love' 't exist. Is it really possible that a girl who is prejudiced against "high relationships" yet wants possession of the object of her desire? Jealousy is the prerogative of romantically inclined ladies. But with Polina, it's all upside down, and I should be used to it. According to her , she should be indifferent to other women's attention to me, but apparently there is no room logic.
I just need to teach her not to give a shit about other women and their attention to my .
But, damn! I enjoy her jealousy! That's a revelation! Me! And a woman's jealousy feels ? That's new.
Memories.
This is perhaps the biggest highlight of the program. I was so careful to get rid of the ghosts the past that when they resurfaced, my memory played tricks on me. I still can't shake my anger my father, at his shortsightedness. I was sure I had let things go years ago, but today the stigma had burned on my heart back then is back again!
To hell with it! Let the world think what it wants! I don't intend to make excuses for what I , or especially for what I did NOT do!
I'm only disappointed that Polina believed the slander. In her eyes I would have liked to look a more positive hero.
It's her again! I have to admit that my weakest point in this whole story is Polina.
Yesterday I wanted to caress her, to be inside her, to hear her cry of release again during . I wanted it like hell! How long could I keep my distance, knowing she was a half-hour away?
On the piece of paper in front of me is a naked Polina.
Can I at least make it three days?
Finally, who gave Polina the information? Suppose it was her father? Why would he do that?
Does he want his daughter to marry Igor? It's possible. But there are doubts.
I think it's Igor.
He dug up information about me and slipped it to her. So he really needs to stop me from with her.
Most likely the reason is money.
I don't like my guess at all. Even if I'm wrong, it's better to be safe. I got two important calls make. I can't have some asshole trespassing on my property. Even though my accounts are , I need to make sure that no mouse can sneak in and access their information.
I also need to meet with Dave. It's unlikely that anyone will connect us, but since Igor to find buried information about my past, he can get to the bottom of it if he wants to.
After all, the fat percentage I pay Dave on every deal guarantees his loyalty, but it's better to be and work out a new scheme of cooperation.
And once again I'm going around in circles. Polina again! I must talk to her about Igor. Does understand the reason for his dirty methods?
It's time to act.
The first thing I do is drive to the clinic to take tests and only on the way make important for me, scheduling appointments.
Since the evening is free, I can visit Lady Emma and Grandfather tonight.
By 7:00, I pull up to their house in Greenwich. I'm on a bike and don't need to go through a scan, so the gate opens in front of me without delay.
We have dinner in the dining room on the first floor. The food, as usual, is excellent. The chef my grandmother has found is Italian, a worthy representative of his country.
- Max, tell me about her, - Lady Emma suddenly asks during the meal change.
- Who, granny? - I look at her puzzled.
- The girl you're thinking about.
- What makes you think I'm thinking about a girl? I had a meeting with Dave today, I'm about some things.
- You don't think of Dave with that face, - Emma objected with an ironic smile. - I know , Max.
- By the way, you could introduce her to us, - Grandpa says.
There's a pause, because I can't come up with an answer. But I paint a pretty clear picture in mind - Polina at this table. I smile stupidly. I imagine her saying something and eating, stabbing small piece on her fork, blotting her lips with a napkin, folding her hands in her lap.
- Is she pretty? - You can't get rid of grandma that easily.
- Yes. Very pretty, - I said. I couldn't get away with it anyway.
- Max, well... describe her, - Grandpa says. - Is she blond?
- No, she's a brunette.
- Why do I have to drag everything out of you? - Granny is indignant. - You can tell us who is, where you met her, and anything else we might be interested in.
- I don't know what to tell you. We just, - I ponder. - Spending time together.
- Thank God you're spending time with someone, Max! I thought you were gonna die in studio. I hope she's a decent girl.
- Very decent.
- Where did you two meet?
- In Kyiv, - I answered. - But now she lives in New York. She has a contract with a major company.
- How old is she? - Lady Emma keeps up.
- Twenty-two years old. She's a beautiful, smart girl. She's funny. Speaks perfect English and throws in a few funny words. Did I answer your questions?
- Max, we'd love to meet your brunette, - Grandpa insists. I chuckle.
- I'll introduce you if this turns into something serious, - I say after a pause. Emma snorts , and Grandpa grunts, not even trying to cover his laughter.
- Did I say something funny? - I look from one to the other.
- No, - Grandpa answered, looking across the table at me. - It's just that we haven't seen you that stupid look on your face before, Max. It's kind of funny.
I laugh along with them.
But at home, in complete silence, the fun dissipates and I feel the urge to send everything to mother and go to her. Polina. She's probably taking a bath right now or lying on her bed with laptop. I'd offer her something more exciting.
I take out my smartphone and type a text: "Hi. How was your first day at the studio? Is it to get home?"
There was no delay in getting a reply from her: "It would have been better if you had me. But I'm punished."
I smile, "Punished? Who's the tyrant?".
"His name is Max Cameron! He's been texting me for some reason and not calling ."
I dial her number, and she answers almost immediately. Her voice warms me.
- Hey. Are you mad at me? - she blurts it out right away.
- No. I'm not angry, - I smile.
- Why are you smiling? I can feel it.
- I can only imagine how hot our meeting is going to be.
- If you're not angry, why are you torturing me and telling me we won't meet until Friday?
- I've already made up my mind, and I don't change my mind, - I explained. - But I like your of restraint, Babe. Kisses.
- Oh my God, Max, an electric current runs through my body when you say you kiss, -
Polina ahhed.
- Okay, then I kiss you on all the places you've got current running through you.
Ending the call, I already want to call her again.
It's weird how long time drags on. Three fucking days. You'd think. The salvation is the and the gym. But as soon as I get home, I wander from corner to corner like a cage. Phone are a dubious salvation. Turns out "patience" is not one of my virtues.
No fucking patience!
All three fucking nights I planned to spend with her. Not with her, but in her. In her! To feel fragile body beneath me, writhing in the agony of pleasure. Bringing her to the peak of pleasure as long as I could. It turns out I'm impatient in sex, too. It's a revelation!
Neither drinking with Dylan, nor going to a nightclub helps to get rid of the obsessive for Polina. Why the fuck am I so addicted to her?
And she, as if sensing my need for her, teases me, testing my patience. She tells me that 's wearing my gift of a corset and nothing else, or that she's running around the house naked of the unbearable heat, and these images excite my already frenzied imagination.
Friday, after my workout, I buy something for tonight's date and take it to the studio. As I the wait, I put incredible energy into my work, but its rush, as the evening approaches, increases. The realization that our willful abstinence will finally be broken only heightens my . I wonder how I managed to make it through Friday without arriving at her place in the of the night.
By the agreed time, I arrive at Polina's house. She sits on the balcony with a tablet in her , waves at me, and disappears into the apartment for a while. A couple of minutes later, she out of the entrance with a light canvas bag over her shoulder.
The sight of her makes my stomach churn. She's so young today! Her hair is pulled back a high ponytail, and she's wearing a short linen jumpsuit that seems to be at least a size too big.
As she puts on her helmet, I inhale her scent. She smells like something unfamiliar today. I like the , she smells like summer and cherry wine.
Polina jumps on the Harley behind me, the engine roars and, tearing off the bike, I race it to studio, wishing I could be alone with her as soon as possible.
- Come in, - I open the heavy metal door in front of her.
Opposite the door, on the far side of the room, there is a lounge corner: a sofa, a wide mobile table, a rocking bed (I use it for photography), and a desk, which is usually piled high with junk, but now it is clean. It's probably the first thing Polina sees, and she quickly looks back at .
- I spend too much time here sometimes, - I answer her mute question.
- So 'parallel reality' does exist, - she smiles and walks over to the tall arched windows on opposite wall, looking out into the courtyard. I turn on the light over the work area, the largest most cluttered.
While Polina looks around, I wash my hands, splash cold water on my neck, refreshed after summer heat, happy to undress. I change in the back room into the lightest clothes I have in the . She's still looking at my work, and I turn on the music of Poets of the Fall. This band is linked to Polina for me.
- There are so many paintings here! - she marvels, moving along the wall. She stops in front a human-sized canvas, tilts her head slightly to the side, and looks at it silently.
- Is that me? - she exhales, turning to me. I stand with my shoulder against the wall, her. She freezes, staring at me from head to toe, stunned.
- Yes, you are.
- It's... so beautiful, - Polina touches the blank with her fingers. This is the very painting I almost immediately after arriving from Kyiv. I depicted her standing in a stream of sunlight the sill of an open window, beneath which stretches a golden city with church domes, an ocean greenery and a river in the distance. Polina's figure in the painting also radiates light.
- Max, - she calls softly. I don't say anything. She examines the paintings next to her. They portraits of her. Several. All different, using different techniques, in different colors.
- Here, - I handed her the certificate. - I promised you.
She looks at me with a hazy look, but I realize she doesn't notice the paper, she only sees .
- Polina, - I try to bring her back to the real world.
- So much ... of me, - she murmurs.
- Yeah, you're an amazing model. Here, - I put the certificate in her hands.
- What's this? - She stares at the statement with incomprehension, then, as if realizing, looks her bag and pulls out a piece of paper folded several times.
- And this is for you, - she searches my gaze. It's her test results from this week. I smile.
Polina is all over this. I should have known she'd smooth things over like that.
- That was unnecessary, - I give her the sheet back. - I want to draw you.
- Now? - she doesn't hide her surprise.
- Later. Tonight. Tomorrow. Always. Right now I want to caress you.
Polina's cheeks blush, the same blush that works magic on me: I want to shower her with the tender caresses.
- Take your clothes off...- I keep my gaze on her face. She obediently unbuckles her belt, her zipper, and swings her shoulders, dropping the jumpsuit to her feet. Polina is not wearing underwear, she is standing in front of me completely naked, the ribbon in her hair unraveling, it slides down her shoulders and chest in a dark silk wave.
- Were you wearing a nude jumpsuit? - I seem to forget to breathe.
- Yeah. I wanted to surprise you.
"If you only knew that you're a surprise yourself, and it gets nicer every time you meet,
Baby."
I slowly approach her, slowing down the animal desire twisting me, running the back of my along her neck, her collarbone, touching her breast, pinching a nipple between my index and finger, pulling it away slightly; she opens her lips and sighs softly. With an open palm, I the curve of her waist, her thigh, squeezing her buttock, drawing her to me:
- I want to play today.
Polina's eyelashes flutter and she places her palms on my stomach, stroking it:
- Into what, Max?
- I want to play with your body.
- Uh-oh, - she murmurs confused.
I tie her legs to the legs of a red leather covered table standing in the center of the studio.
- I'll blindfold you, - I whisper in her ear. Laying her stomach on the countertop, I her arms.
"Today I'm going to tease you, but not with words and images, but with touch." I pull out a of marabou feathers and cubes of pre-chilled melon.
Without warning, I guide the cold cube clamped to my lips along her spine....
Hours later, we lie sprawled on the couch, completely exhausted. There's a lingering smell sex in the room. It's so voluminous that it overpowers the smell of paint. I stare at a slumbering
Polina, stroking her with my fingertips. I feel a crazy, animal hunger. Reaching for my smartphone, has fallen to the floor from my pocket, I dial the number of the pizzeria next door. Polina, opening her eyes, adjusts my order:
- I don't eat seafood pizza, - she mumbles.
- What are you gonna be with?
- With chicken and pineapple, - she wraps her arm around me and puts her leg out on top of , her head resting on my chest, her long dark hair covering us like a blanket.
While we wait for the order, Polina draws invisible patterns on my chest with her finger.
- What are you thinking about, Baby? - I run her silk strands through my fingers.
- You take nothing in return, Max. You only give. I really want you to be happy with me, - admitted, still not opening her eyes.
- Look at me, - I stroke her cheek and her crimson, swollen lips.
I catch her gaze through half-closed lashes.
- That's how good I feel with you, - I place her hand on the growing Gringo, forcing her to her fingers around the shaft. - I don't know about other men, but this is the first time my dick getting hard again after hours of fucking and orgasms. With you, I experience everything all over . With you, I'm a virgin who's never had a woman.
"Oh Polina, you have no idea what you're doing to me, how great your power is!"
I want her again. It's magic. Witchcraft. Drug addiction. It's a disease.
- Ah, - is all she manages to exhale before my tongue thrusts into her mouth and I lay down her legs again.
- - -
Half an hour later we're eating pizza and drinking coke still lying on the couch.
- I have a dance tomorrow. At ten o'clock, - Polina reminds me.
- I'll drive you. Did you bring any panties?
- Uh-huh, - she tries to drink a Coke from the neck of the bottle in a reclining position and a little on us.
Laziness is unbelievable. I just shake those drops off mine and her body with my hand.
- We're like two pandas now. Two lazy pandas, - Polina laughs softly.
- Yeah, fun, playful, but sedentary, - I chuckled. I force myself to get up and at least take the boxes to the dumpster.
When I return to the room, Polina is curled up asleep. It's four o'clock in the morning. I duck the sheet, tuck her in, cover her with me, and fall into sleep.
- - - - -
Today we are going to the premiere of a new movie, some kind of blockbuster, which are released on the big screens in the summer. I will go to pick up Polina in a few hours, and I have a visitor - Carmen Suarez, the VIP client manager of the Harry Winston jewelry house.
We have known each other for many years, and although I rarely make purchases from them, the I have left with this jewelry house has reached that obscenely high bar when a client is served at the first call at checkout.
- So, Max, I understand that you're interested in something special, since you turned down catalog, - Carmen said, looking at me over her glasses. She is an experienced manager, with a sense of intuition and the ability to get in touch with the customer in a short period of time. I impressed by her professionalism and, no less, by her ability to make me feel at ease. That is when I buy jewelry, I always communicate exclusively with Carmen.
- Yeah, you got that right. I'm looking for something special. I'm interested in the emerald- tanzanite earrings and pendant. They should be set with diamonds. The chain for the pendant is gold.
- Tanzanite?! I've never doubted your sense of style, Max. Anything for you, - she pauses a . - You're aware that it's overpriced right now...- she pauses artistically.
- The diamond, - I continued. - I know, or I wouldn't have brought him up. Carmen, I need obscenely expensive thing. One that's off the charts, - I laugh. - You realize that what I really is a beautiful thing. It has to fit the woman I'm choosing it for. Tanzanite will suit her. The must be of impeccable purity, up to ten carats, deep blue color, perhaps with a violet tint.
Carmen takes off her glasses and looks at me point-blank.
- Max, are you kidding me? To make a thing like that, you have to find a stone like that first.
Tanzanite is a very special stone.
- I know. And I'm willing to wait. I'm sure it's no problem for Harry Winston, - I smile at her what appears to be a Hollywood smile.
- Okay, the earrings and the pendant.
- Yeah, earrings and a pendant. I also need a white gold waist chain, also with a tanzanite . It should close the chain at the bottom. A drop? In this case, the cut could be oval.
- I would recommend something else for your earrings and pendant as well. Maybe a heart?
Tanzanite would play more beautifully. The emerald cut is a little heavy for this stone, - Carmen at me, biting the tip of her glasses.
A seductive picture immediately arises in my imagination: naked Polina on black silk sheets, a pendant, earrings, a ring on her toe and a belt with deep blue stones, they are in the shape hearts.
- Yeah, okay. Then on my belt, too, - I nodded and leaned back in my chair, satisfied. - And a for my middle toe. It's no bigger than a three or four, as usual with a plug.
- Ok, I can't quote a price right now, as you realize, but this headset could cost up to a of a million dollars, - Carmen summarizes.
- That's not all, - I smile.
- I'm listening, - Carmen's stamina is the envy of James Bond himself.
- I need another special, unusual piece. Another piece of waist jewelry, but with a chain. That's it, - I draw the shape I want the piece to look like.
-
It looks like a thong, - Carmen says, slightly widening her eyes.
-
Thong? No, just a chain between legs, - I try to convey my idea to Carmen as accurately as . - You don't need tanzanite here, - I joke. - But here, in this place, about eight inches from joint, I need an insert in the form of a moth, of intertwining threads. The moth should be , but not large. The chains should be bulkier. The vertical one should be made , with two locks, so that I can change its length and degree of tension.
- Oh, God, Max, I'm burning up, - still her stamina faltered. Carmen fanned herself with a catalog. - Ughhhh... I vividly visualized this thing! Who drove you crazy? Or who do you want drive crazy?
- A woman, of course, - I laugh.
- Is that...um...jewelry supposed to be white gold? - Carmen tries to translate the . Her cheeks are still red with embarrassment.
- No, it's yellow. The first set and this thing have nothing to do with each other, - I . - Place your order. I'll be expecting your price by e-mail, just a number, and preferably your personal e-mail account.
- Okay, - she nods. - Apparently the customer for your paintings is the sheikh you're painting palace walls for, - I let Carmen behave a little freely with me. Only she's allowed to do that.
- Not yet, - I laugh. - But my stock market gambling lately has been quite successful. Don't , even if I get poorer, it's in honor of beauty.
- Yeah. She's a lucky girl, - Carmen summarizes. We have coffee before we say goodbye.
Hm.... Yes, Polina, you'll look gorgeous in this naked garment. Gringo is definitely in favor it right now.