11-07-2023, 10:08 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-07-2023, 10:20 PM by Alistair Bishop.)
[continued from We have a gift for you]
Alistair had stepped out of the club to meet a long, blacked-out Mercedes limo. The driver, standing in a dark black suit with a slender body, had opened the door as Alistair approached. In a thick Russian accent, he had welcomed, "Geet een, Alistair." Cautiously, Alistair had gotten in, sliding along the leather. The front window to the driver had come down for just a second for the driver to say, "Mr. Petrovich's associate ees vaiting for you at Kallisti; he also vants you to enjoy yourself, so a special treat avaits." With that, the pitch-black window had rolled up.
Alistair's car had arrived at Kallisti. Alistair's guard had risen, tensed on what he had gotten into. Still new to his surroundings, his awareness had been keenly high.
As the door opened, Alistair heard a soft female Russian voice, "Meestair Beeshop, I've been ekspecting you." The driver, having opened the door, greeted Alistair with a view of a pair of long legs. Alistair slowly raised his head, taking in the sight of black high heels. As he raised his eyes further, he had absorbed the image of long legs, a dress with a deep see-through slit barely concealing anything, to a deep plunging neckline exposing a very ample bosom. As his eyes met hers, she had greeted him with a coy smile.
"I'm Nadezhda; you can call me Nadya. Come weez me," she had said, extending her hand. As they walked inside, she quietly whispered, "Mr. Petrovich vanted me to ensure you had a good time vhile you vaited to meet Anatoly." She put her arm in his. With a wink, she had added, "Make sure you teep beeg. You vill enjoy de attention from de girls eef you do." She looked up with a suggestive wink. She was one of Mr. P's main girls, hired to take care of high-end clients, giving them anything they wanted as long at it served Mr. P. and the family.
The doors had opened to an ornate hallway with a long red carpet. Off in the distance, the faint thumping of music could be heard. It grew louder as they approached a door and, when opened, he was taken aback by where he was. This was nothing like he'd experienced in America. It was a sweet and savory concoction that had combined pure luxury with sensuality in a way Alistair had never experienced.
She led him to a plush red couch, sat him down, and immediately turned to sit across him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She turned to look at him as she pressed into his crotch, giving him a smile as there was nothing she couldn't feel. "Do you like zat?" she had whispered in his ear. "Look around, tell me vhat else you like."
A server interrupted and came by and took their drink order. Alistair had ordered a Manhattan. She had said to give her one too. "I vant vhatever or whoever he vants," her choice of words had been purposeful. "Give her a beeg teep," she had instructed. Alistair brought out a roll of cash, not often seen. She had snatched it from his hand and handed it to the flirty waitress. "Dear, make sure the girls treat Alistair reeght," she had said, tracing a single finger up Alistair's chin.
Alistair's guard was falling very fast.
He took in the room. Men were drinking, scantily clad women walking everywhere. A dancer was wrapping up. It only had taken a second but as soon as he had looked, her yellowing eyes had consumed Alistair. Her eyes captivated him even more so than the moves she had made. They had put him into a trance he had never felt before. It was unlike anything he had experienced as he watched her slowly slither her body into a seductive cat-like pose, barely wearing anything and seemingly ready to pounce. Yet the perfectly placed clothing had made this experience heightened. Where in the US, he would go to a strip club and have any view, touch, or position he wanted with a dancer, nothing was left to the imagination. This room was different. It felt filled with unbelievable temptation and a power he could not describe. The power had been electric, something that felt ancient. Maybe it was the plush red seating and darkly lit tones of the room framing every silhouette that had put a dense fog over his mind. Every person there was worshipped at an arm's length, for if a mere touch happened, it would send a customer into ecstasy.
Nadya could tell Alistair was engrossed in the dancer, as he was staring into open space toward the stage. She had whispered in his ear, "You like vhat you see, Alistair?" as her hand slid down his open-collar dress shirt.
"That was Kaylee. Thank you," an announcer lowly bellowed as she had left the stage; the crowd had clapped and whistled as she walked off.
Just like that, the spell was broken. Alistair had returned to his body, having left reality for what had felt like hours, though it had only been a few minutes.
Turning now to take a drink, with every sip and eye contact with a beautiful woman or seductive whisper from his host, Alistair had entirely let his guard down.
The Mafia contact was still on his way, but Alistair had essentially forgotten all about why he was there.
Alistair had stepped out of the club to meet a long, blacked-out Mercedes limo. The driver, standing in a dark black suit with a slender body, had opened the door as Alistair approached. In a thick Russian accent, he had welcomed, "Geet een, Alistair." Cautiously, Alistair had gotten in, sliding along the leather. The front window to the driver had come down for just a second for the driver to say, "Mr. Petrovich's associate ees vaiting for you at Kallisti; he also vants you to enjoy yourself, so a special treat avaits." With that, the pitch-black window had rolled up.
Alistair's car had arrived at Kallisti. Alistair's guard had risen, tensed on what he had gotten into. Still new to his surroundings, his awareness had been keenly high.
As the door opened, Alistair heard a soft female Russian voice, "Meestair Beeshop, I've been ekspecting you." The driver, having opened the door, greeted Alistair with a view of a pair of long legs. Alistair slowly raised his head, taking in the sight of black high heels. As he raised his eyes further, he had absorbed the image of long legs, a dress with a deep see-through slit barely concealing anything, to a deep plunging neckline exposing a very ample bosom. As his eyes met hers, she had greeted him with a coy smile.
"I'm Nadezhda; you can call me Nadya. Come weez me," she had said, extending her hand. As they walked inside, she quietly whispered, "Mr. Petrovich vanted me to ensure you had a good time vhile you vaited to meet Anatoly." She put her arm in his. With a wink, she had added, "Make sure you teep beeg. You vill enjoy de attention from de girls eef you do." She looked up with a suggestive wink. She was one of Mr. P's main girls, hired to take care of high-end clients, giving them anything they wanted as long at it served Mr. P. and the family.
The doors had opened to an ornate hallway with a long red carpet. Off in the distance, the faint thumping of music could be heard. It grew louder as they approached a door and, when opened, he was taken aback by where he was. This was nothing like he'd experienced in America. It was a sweet and savory concoction that had combined pure luxury with sensuality in a way Alistair had never experienced.
She led him to a plush red couch, sat him down, and immediately turned to sit across him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She turned to look at him as she pressed into his crotch, giving him a smile as there was nothing she couldn't feel. "Do you like zat?" she had whispered in his ear. "Look around, tell me vhat else you like."
A server interrupted and came by and took their drink order. Alistair had ordered a Manhattan. She had said to give her one too. "I vant vhatever or whoever he vants," her choice of words had been purposeful. "Give her a beeg teep," she had instructed. Alistair brought out a roll of cash, not often seen. She had snatched it from his hand and handed it to the flirty waitress. "Dear, make sure the girls treat Alistair reeght," she had said, tracing a single finger up Alistair's chin.
Alistair's guard was falling very fast.
He took in the room. Men were drinking, scantily clad women walking everywhere. A dancer was wrapping up. It only had taken a second but as soon as he had looked, her yellowing eyes had consumed Alistair. Her eyes captivated him even more so than the moves she had made. They had put him into a trance he had never felt before. It was unlike anything he had experienced as he watched her slowly slither her body into a seductive cat-like pose, barely wearing anything and seemingly ready to pounce. Yet the perfectly placed clothing had made this experience heightened. Where in the US, he would go to a strip club and have any view, touch, or position he wanted with a dancer, nothing was left to the imagination. This room was different. It felt filled with unbelievable temptation and a power he could not describe. The power had been electric, something that felt ancient. Maybe it was the plush red seating and darkly lit tones of the room framing every silhouette that had put a dense fog over his mind. Every person there was worshipped at an arm's length, for if a mere touch happened, it would send a customer into ecstasy.
Nadya could tell Alistair was engrossed in the dancer, as he was staring into open space toward the stage. She had whispered in his ear, "You like vhat you see, Alistair?" as her hand slid down his open-collar dress shirt.
"That was Kaylee. Thank you," an announcer lowly bellowed as she had left the stage; the crowd had clapped and whistled as she walked off.
Just like that, the spell was broken. Alistair had returned to his body, having left reality for what had felt like hours, though it had only been a few minutes.
Turning now to take a drink, with every sip and eye contact with a beautiful woman or seductive whisper from his host, Alistair had entirely let his guard down.
The Mafia contact was still on his way, but Alistair had essentially forgotten all about why he was there.