Page 4 of My Russian Protector

“Thank you, my friend. I should be back in a week or so for the bike.”

“She’ll be here, Alex.”

Alexsander takes my backpack and tosses it in the backseat along with his bag. He opens the passenger door for me and helps me inside. I watch through the window as he exchanges a few words with the man in the coveralls then comes around to the driver’s side and gets in the car.

“Can I call you Alex?” I ask him.

“You can call me anything that you want,” he puts the car in gear and revs the engine. Then, he strokes the dash with his open hand and says, “I’ve missed you.” He steps on the gas and tears out of the warehouse, kicking up a cloud of dust when the wheels make contact with the gravel.

“We’ll be in Chekalin in about an hour,” he tells me.

“Then what?”

“Then we find a place to eat and sleep and set up our base of operation.”

“If you’re out of the business, why do you need to stash cars everywhere?”

He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow, “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity,” I shrug.

“The money that I used to buy them wasn’t exactly clean. I can’t just park them all in the hotel garage without someone asking questions. Questions lead to problems. That’s why I do my best not to answer them,” he replies.

“You just answered mine,” I note.

He looks at me again and says, “I guess you’re becoming an exception to the rule.”

I like the sound of that, and I can’t help but smile. It’s the first nice thing he’s said to me since we met.

I lean back on the soft leather seat and close my eyes. As I drift off to sleep, I imagine him reaching over and stroking my thigh as he drives. Soon, I find myself floating helplessly into a full-blown sexual fantasy.

My heart rate increases as I imagine Alex pulling me onto his lap and sliding into me. I can almost feel his soft breath and warm, wet mouth on my breasts as he squeezes my waist and guides me on and off his hard penis. My womanhood throbs as he loses his composure and takes me in a needy, animalistic demonstration of lustful aggression.

He’s moaning and grunting as he controls my body and I feel myself giving over to his will. He touches my face and whispers, “We’re here, Princess,” and the jolt back to reality leaves me questioning my place in the world. The way he looks at me makes me wonder if my dream might have played like a movie on the windshield, showing him every detail of depravity I imagined him doing to me.

I look out the window at the four-story stone building. “Is this a motel?” I ask.

“This is the only lodging available in the village.”

He exits the car, collects our bags, and opens my door for me. My legs feel wobbly beneath me as I’m still reeling from our imaginary sexual encounter. I manage to steady myself enough to climb the steps to the front door of the Inn.

“I do all of the talking,” he reminds me as he holds the door open.

The woman behind the small oak desk looks up at us as we enter.

“I have one room available,” she blurts as we approach.

“We’ll take it,” Alex replies.

She slides a check-in card across the desk to him and he scribbles something on it. She asks for his ID, and he pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to her. It has his face on it but the name reads, “Stanisloff Robilinski.” I wonder how many other identities he has. She takes his money and hands him a key.

“313. Up the stairs,” she says and turns her attention back to the television behind her.

We climb the stairs to the third floor and enter our room. It’s clean but small and only has one bed. My face gets hot as I imagine what he might be thinking, but he senses my discomfort and says, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

3

THE FIRST NIGHT IN CHEKALIN

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