radicalducati Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Polina
I'm waiting for Max outside the Arena City. I'm in a bad mood. My thoughts are jumbled, my brain has turned to jelly. I don't understand myself.
Igor called in the afternoon and chatted with me as if nothing had happened. He'd be here enough. Knowing him, it wasn't hard to assume that he'd turn me inside out today, as he'd clear when he'd dropped a few phrases in a seemingly innocent conversation. But I'm already versed in his behavior.
But it's not Igor and our relationship that worries me. I can deal with that, though not some nervousness. My headache lies with another man. I have to admit that for the first I'm in serious trouble. In a manner of speaking, I've gone off the road at full speed and am , tumbling, downhill without even realizing when or how it will end. My bad mood is very explained - there is a big, fat cross on my plans today. Instead of enjoying Max's company,
I'm going to have to deal with a man who mistakenly thinks he has power over me.
I feel exceptionally spoiled. I'm ready to send one of them to all four sides, ignoring the fact he is officially considered my man, and the other, with whom I have only business relations, I him like a cat. The most amazing thing is that I don't try to do anything about it.
With Max's arrival, everything changed, new emotions and a new sense of myself appeared.
For the first time in my life I understand my desires and know how to hear myself, there, deep . Modesty was sent to the dump, shame disappeared without a trace, the rules of behavior rewritten! I'm not the least bit worried about Igor's feelings. I'm only worried about whether
"Mr. Cool" will reciprocate.
However, I need to focus on other things and complete a certain stage of life. I need to myself to Igor. Even if it turns out to be a mistake followed by remorse. It's time to end a that has long since become a sham. Each of us lives on our own, occasionally crossing in space.
I spot Max walking toward the Arena City. The effect inside me from just looking at him is the detonation of a small atomic bomb, and I try my best to hide the emotion that I'm sure is readable in my gaze.
He's incredibly handsome! His springy gait makes him stand out from the crowd. His suit his appearance give the impression of elaborate carelessness and a rare sense of style, but I that for him, looking special is a way of life; it's just the way he lives. I've come to understand trait of his well enough in the few days we've known each other. I don't know who his parents , what kind of family he comes from, but sometimes I think he has royal blood in his veins. At same time, there's not an ounce of arrogance or condescension in him. The warmth that radiates his smile is worth all the riches in the world.
I admire him, examining him from head to toe.
He's in a white lightweight cotton suit, his pale blue T-shirt with a very deep triangular , thin to unobtrusively transparent, and he's wearing dapper, ultra-trendy blue brogues. He smoothly shaved and has a new hairstyle, having cut off his ponytail, which he used to wear on back of his head. Max looks good in his new look. Sergei shortened his hair slightly, so that the strands of hair emphasize his high cheekbones and perfectly shaped nose with sculpted . His massive rings shine on his hand, emphasizing his long, strong fingers.
Admiring it doesn't go without a trace, having planted a spark of desire in me, it quickly out into a conflagration.
Our gazes meet. I'm afraid he'll read my gaze like an open book. The moment he takes my in his and brings them to his lips for a kiss, I'm ready to shatter into a thousand little pieces.
And it's just a gesture of respect.
Forcing myself to focus on work is a good way to get my mind off my thoughts. There is a demand for Max from the media. Many channels and publications want to interview him, a news story with him. I need to organize his schedule for this evening so that he doesn't get to pieces. I specially prepared in advance, and now I am glad that I worked out all the nuances tonight's event so thoughtfully with the gallery's press center.
So far things are going according to plan, I'm in control and I'm following the timeline of interview.
I was pulled out of the work process by Igor, who appeared at the most inopportune .
- Please, let's talk later, - I ask him, after greeting him. - I'm at work and the boss is here, - I toward the lounge area.
All his touches, all his kisses, turn into torture for me. He senses it, and he strokes my naked defiantly, running his hand over my buttocks. I try to pull away.
- I'll meet you at the party, - he smiles a wide smile. He's sweet, alert, even playful. It's . I feel like a moth in a tiger's clutches.
I was exhausted by the middle of the party. The translation for three hours, Igor keeping his on me, Max's presence near me, to whom it seemed that all the ladies present were reacting exception. Perhaps I'm exaggerating about the latter, but several times I noticed ladies of caliber around him, trying to attract his attention, to catch his smile, to touch his hand.
While Max talks to his boss, I have a few minutes to catch my breath. But Igor, apparently, a different opinion. He joins me at the bar as soon as I take a seat there.
- Are you tense or is it just me, Paula? - he smiles and pecks my cheek.
- Igor, I'm tired, - my appearance seemed to confirm my words. I sipped some champagne the glass the waiter handed me.
- I was hoping we'd have a little fun tonight, - he slides his lips along my cheekbone to my . I pulled back and rested my hand on his shoulder.
- I think I've made myself clear enough, haven't I? I'm tired, Igor. All I want now is to find in a relaxing bath or to have my tenth dream lying on my pillow.
He looks at me, squinting his eyes.
- That's exactly what you want right now, - his tone is pierced with sarcasm. I don't say , not wanting to broach the subject, but he insists.
- Admit it, you'd still have fun if....
I don't let him finish the sentence, even though it could be hiding anything behind it.
- So you think I'm dreaming of continuing the party?
- I don't think you're happy to see me today, - he summarized icily. Well, I am. It's not decent me to deny it, at least. He grins a smile that's more like a grin. - But I don't give a shit. I have to say to you, and I want you to hear it today, not whenever it suits you.
I gulp. "Here we go."
- Then talk here and now, - I waved it off tiredly.
Igor continues to smile. His smile is arctic cold. He has the ability to give me chills rather joy with his smile, instilling the expectation of something unpleasant. Sometimes he reminds of Lestat, who, with his grin and faltering smile, held back his victims. I am pierced by a : Igor really looks something like Lestat, embodied on the screen by Tom Cruise. Just his ! Sometimes, as a joke, I called Igor - Dracula, but he is not Dracula, he is Lestat! Why did I realize that now? Apparently because in the subdued, ultraviolet light that sharpens his , his incisors look especially predatory. He pulls my face up to his chin:
- I'll leave you now. Come to your senses, cool your head, clear it of all unnecessary . Try to put away all the fantasies and excuses that don't exist. I won't believe them anyway.
When I come back, there's no need to be fake. We'll go to your house where we'll have time to talk everything. And between "A" and "B, - you can do whatever you want. You can drink alcohol relieve your stress, you can seduce someone and try your charms on them, you can even seduce assigned artist - I'll allow it, you can break all the dishes in the bar and cause a scandal. But I get back, you have to be fine, - he said seriously.
Tears came to my eyes, and I clenched my palms, digging my nails into them, not wanting to a single one. Igor rises abruptly from the bar stool and leaves me alone.
I grab another glass of champagne and walk to the table by the stage. Oh, no! I will not cry!
I don't deserve this injustice. With a clear conscience I can admit to myself and others that I have been honest with him, always! So now his words sound like an insult! Shit! Well, let him , I'll listen and I'll find something to say in return!
I exhale slowly.
For a moment, a wave of unearthly pleasure sweeps over my body. A man's hand moves my spine, almost weightlessly. I catch his distinctive scent. Only Max can smell like that.
He's true to himself in this, too-the scents he uses seem to be made exclusively for him. Like a skin, they're a natural extension of him-expensive, impeccable, unobtrusive, unique.
As Max caresses my back, I savor the pleasure, surrendering myself to him without . When his thumb intimately traces an invisible line over the neckline of my dress, I bite cheek, holding back a sigh of delight.
He asks me to dance, and we move in rhythm as I soak up the warmth of his body. As if in a , I obey his voice, lifting my eyes to his face when he asks me to look at him. I'm afraid to look him. I'm afraid he'll read in my gaze my weakness in front of him, my insecurity and . I've always wanted to be strong, independent, I've always prided myself on my disposition, but with him, my strengths turn to jelly. He has a magical effect on me. I'm in front of him. Totally.
The desire I feel can be compared to a thirsty man lost in the desert, longing for water.
I want to touch Max with at least one finger, even a fingertip, even through his clothes.
Under the fabric of his jacket, I can feel his strong arm, his muscular muscles. Barely breathing, I the outline of his chest under his T-shirt, quite shamelessly, shifting my hand to the very . Even through the fabric, even with my fingertip, I can feel the warmth of his body, his skin. The image of him lying on the white sheets flashes through my mind, completely naked so seductive that I almost lose the rest of my control. His gaze penetrates me, seeming to : "It's going to be okay, Polina. It's going to be okay."
I can hardly make sense of his words as he speaks them aloud.
- Polina, will you get in trouble for this dance? He's here, and I'm sure he's looking our way.
- It won't, Max. It's going to be okay, - I feel like I'm repeating the message he let into me his gaze. - But after this dance, I need to leave the party like Cinderella. Are you gonna be without me? - I know that the admin girls will do their job perfectly: call a cab for him or a car to transport him to the hotel. But I'm still worried. It's late, he's in a foreign, unexplored , after all, I want to see him walk through the doors of the Hyatt as a tradition.
- Hmmm... I told you yesterday that I don't jerk off, - he smiles, his thousand-watt smile me fly away. When I get the meaning of his words, I can't help but smile back.
- That's rude, Max. You know what I mean, - I said, feeling a little better. He can break evil with a word. Oh, Max, who are you?
- Yeah, you've totally characterized me. I'm rude. Get used to it. I hope you know exactly I meant, too.
"Poser, - my mind flashes through my head, "You're not rude at all. I know you wanted to me laugh by seeing my tears."
Maybe he'll call me tomorrow. I don't even want to guess. I don't know what's gonna happen . I'd like to get out of today with dignity.
We say our goodbyes. I walk towards Lestat's verbal torture.
After an hour of talking to Igor, I was, figuratively speaking, torn to shreds. I entered the , fell on the sofa and lay for a while, face pressed into the sofa cushion.
Then, by an effort of will, I forced myself to get up and went into the shower, washing off all marks of the day. I wrapped myself in a long silk robe and went back to my room, turned on the DE album, turned off the lights, leaving only the nightlight on, and lay down on the sofa next the balcony, with the balcony door wide open.
Well, today Igor and I dotted all the i's and t's. I should be relieved, but his words stabbed my heart like needles.
I don't want to remember this conversation. I set my laptop down on the coffee table by the , open the picture of Max's face in close-up, stare at it, and I don't notice how I fall into a dream.
In the morning, I wake up completely rested, although not in the mood. The clock reads nine the morning. That's very late for me. Even on weekends I wake up no later than half past eight.
But I guess I needed to disconnect from everything, erasing the heaviness of yesterday with sleep. I wash my face, comb my hair, pull on jean shorts and a colorful blouse, heading to the grocery store. I want to make pancakes. I dial my dad.
- Hey, Daddy! Have you had breakfast yet? - I ask him as soon as he answers the phone.
- Hello, mouse, - he replies in a cheerful voice. I know he's glad I called. - Yeah, I already a snack. But the second breakfast is still on the table.
- Then you're invited. Mom's probably at the pool as usual on Saturdays.
- Yeah, she just left half an hour ago. I'll be right there.
I'm in the middle of the process when the doorbell rings. Dad! He grabs me, lifts me up and me on the nose.
- I feel like I haven't seen you in ages, mouse! - he hands me a bouquet of French roses, a creamy color, a bag of fruit and various yogurts.
- Sit down, we're going to have pancakes. Do you want coffee or tea? - I quickly unpack the , wash the apricots, and pour the batter into two pans.
- Let's have some tea, I haven't had ginger in a long time, - Dad washes his hands and sets table. We sit at the open window to the balcony, eating pancakes and talking.
- Tell me, what's going on with you? - Dad asks.
- We broke up with Igor yesterday, - I watch his reaction with a sidelong glance. My father completely calm, as if he'd been prepared to hear something like that. - I don't know if he took seriously; I think he thought it was a stupid joke or a whim on my part.
- What makes you think that?
- His last words were, "This isn't over. You'll come running back when you've had enough."
That's what he said, - I shrug.
- Why did you break up with him? Did he ask you to marry him at a bad time? - My father's are filled with laughter.
- No, you didn't, - I snicker.
- So how did you explain your decision?
- It's simple. Our relationship was exhausted. In fact, I never lied to him about it. I never him anything. And he never insisted on more than that, - I shrugged.
- I hope his ego wasn't hurt too badly, - his father smiled openly.
- Are you excited? Or maybe it's just me, - I'm a little surprised at his reaction.
- Polina, I always thought your relationship was short-lived. Sooner or later you would have up. I've never been able to imagine you together in your old age, - we are both laughing .
After he leaves, I decide to devote the day to the house - I put things in order, go to the for groceries in order to fill the half-empty refrigerator, take the things that have been for a long time to be cleaned to the dry cleaners. It's not long before evening falls. My is silent. I twirl it in my hands, hypnotize it, send an invisible plea into space, but all in vain.
And this morning, while taking a shower, I made a wish... I cut myself off, I made a wish for that now embarrasses me.
When the smartphone vibrates in my hand, I jump. My mouth instantly dries up, and I before answering the call. But it's only Iryna, my high school friend.
- Polya, I've missed you already! Let's meet right now. I invite you to StereoPlaza, there's a
Boombox concert tonight. I've got the tickets.
- Let's go, - I agree.
I guess that's what heaven sent me in answer to my pleas. Otherwise I'd go crazy waiting, I don't think anyone's going to call tonight; it's half past eight in the evening. Ira picks me up minutes later-we live quite close to each other. I'm ready to go. Not an ounce of makeup on my , only lip gloss. I put on the first comfortable thing I could find. In a few minutes we were there, taking seats at the bar, although there was no place to fall in the hall. I ordered a , Irka a Cosmopolitan. She tells me about her trip to Mexico, where she went with her Tolik. I listen half-heartedly, though I honestly try to disconnect from my thoughts.
The hall is filled to capacity, but you can still buy tickets at the entrance. Surprisingly,
Khlyvnyuk and company do not torment the audience with a long wait, and at only five minutes , start the concert. At the very moment when I finally switch to music, my phone gives signs of . I glance at the screen. Max.
- Hello, - I try to shout over the crowd. I can hardly hear him, rather guessing what he's .
-Where are you?
- At the concert, - I put my hand over my ear, trying to shut out the noise.
- Can I join you? - he speaks louder, I can hear him better now.
- I think so, - I answered, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.
- Then send me a text with an address where I can go. I'll see you then.
I ask the bartender for the street where StereoPlaza is located and send the coordinates to
Max. It seems to me that time is dragging unbearably long. Since the moment I sent the text , the fourth song is already playing. I try not to think about him, to even out my breathing, is clearly malfunctioning, my body taut as a string. Ira looks at me questioningly, and I her inappropriately. There are no thoughts in my head except for one big spot of light -
M.A.X!
Tender, strong, warm fingers touch my arm. My nostrils fluttered as I inhaled his unique . I slowly turn toward him, trying to calm my pounding heart. Max is there, very close- , long-awaited, and unbearably seductive. He stares at me for a long, long time. His gray-blue eyes, which now seem blue-black, glide over my face, my neck, my chest.
I think I'm getting dizzy, barely breathing, my eyes foggy. I lick my lips greedily with the tip my tongue, and the second I do, I gasp! Max pulls me close and kisses me. His lips are firm and , wrapping around mine, and I feel my heart stop at first, then double over. I let his tongue into my mouth and move gently inside, gradually filling the space and keeping me from . My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head down. Oh-oh, how long I've waited for ....
I've been looking forward to this, Max!
He pulls away, and I drop a sigh of regret, trying to hold on to him, clinging to him with my . He whispers right against my half-open lips:
- I want you, Baby... I really do.
My body shudders involuntarily at his words, which I hear in the sound-filled hall, clearer the music, clearer than the noise around me, and all I can exhale in response, wincing with lust, a quiet, like moan:
-
Yeah.