“That’s no tits,” she says, caressing Nooria’s nipples and then touching her own. “That’s tits.”
She walks back to the bed, giving Maksimenko such a seducing stare that only a woman who has wrapping men around her finger written in her job description can.
“I have only one handcuff. Will you behave, Dima?” she purrs shackling Maksimenko’s hand to the radiator behind the bed.
“You bet I will.”
“I need the lubricant first.”
She opens bag and rummages inside, then impatiently empties it on one of the unoccupied beds. Among many things including a make-up kit, spare stockings and panties, a mobile phone and the long nail file, a discreet tube of lubricant falls out. Fedorka pushes a little liquid on her palm and waves to Nooria.
“I’m proud to give you the best cock of Kiev—,” Fedorka lustfully whispers. Maksimenko gives a low moan as he feels her warm palm applying the lubricant on his sex. “—and the man who lured you two here attached to it. First, you will take him. You can do anything to him—anything I let you do, of course. Then we’ll change roles and we will make you feel good like you never felt before!” She closes her hand into a fist and gives Maksimenko an accomplice’s smirk. “Come closer.”
Nooria is standing motionlessly with embarrassment written all over her. She feels utterly humiliated not only for getting naked against her will but also for her body being much less attractive than those of the sadistic couple. His naked beauty might suffer from scars on his torso but apart from that, it is a pleasure for any female eye to look at. Nooria cannot deny herself a shadow of desire. However, the sight of the woman’s perfect body fills her with bitter envy.
Her eyes meet Fedorka’s. They look warm to her, tempting, lewd and full of evil.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Nooria says, stepping closer. With her hands behind her back, she kneels down between the bed occupied by the couple and the other one with the opened bag on it.
“Submissive already? I love that,” whispers Vera Fedorka, caressing Maksimenko’s thigh. “Watch him getting ready for you. I want to watch him fuck your brains out. Then we’ll change position and I will give you the fuck of your life.”
“Why?” Nooria asks with trembling lips.
Vera Fedorka and Maksimenko exchange a glance. She opens her mouth with a burble of laughter. With disgust, Nooria watches a thick drop of saliva falling from her lips. The beautiful woman looks to her now like a drooling bitch.
“Come,” Fedorka commands her. “Look how big he is. He is all yours until my turn comes.”
“I would rather not,” Nooria replies. Behind her back, her hands are frantically searching among the spilled contents of Fedorka’s bag.
“Why so?” Vera Fedorka asks, leaning up on the bed. She smiles at Maksimenko. “Sumasedshaya…”
Having at last found what she was looking for, Nooria takes a deep breath.
“Sorry,” she sighs, “but I don’t like you.”
Vera Fedorka’s brown eyes open wide but even if they were closed, the metal nail file in Nooria’s hand would just as easily punch through her right eye, fracture the soft bone tissue beyond it and pierce into her brain. Surprise still lingers in Vera’s unharmed eye when she falls back to the bed, her hands and legs jerking for a few seconds until her brain ceases to function.
With his mouth open wide enough to scream but emitting only a moan, Captain Maksimenko shakes on the handcuff shackling him to the radiator. A wave of cold runs down his spine when he sees the rage in Nooria’s eyes as she takes her blade. Maksimenko can’t tell what is more frightening—the freezing gaze of Nooria’s green eyes or the curved blade she is unsheathing.
“Go ahead! Cut my head off if you want, you barbarian bitch!”
He knows that his hoarse words sound all but defiantly.
With a quick leap, Nooria lands kneeling on Maksimenko’s chest. For a long moment, she looks him in the eye, holding her blade an inch away from his throat. Maksimenko moans from both fear and excitement as he feels his sex touch that of hers.
“It was your woman wanting to take away my child, not you. Now she has one eye, just like you.” With her free hand, Nooria reaches between her legs and grasps him so strongly that Maksimenko’s face distorts from pain. His arm strains against the handcuff.
“My man is bigger,” she breathes into his face. If Vera Fedorka appeared and smelled like a bitch in heat, Nooria looks now like a demon in rage. “This is to remember me.”
Nooria puts her index finger on her lips, then touches the Captain’s mouth as if giving a kiss. Maksimenko hears a silent hiss from the direction of his neck. Burning pain follows a split second later.
Cold fire still burns in Nooria’s eyes when she removes the glowing blade from his neck. Maksimenko wants to shout but realizes at the same moment that if he is found here, with Fedorka dead, he handcuffed to the radiator and a high-profile prisoner about to escape, he would be beyond dead. He closes his eye to avoid Nooria’s soul-piercing gaze.
When he opens it a few moments later, she is gone. So are her belongings.
After ten minutes spent with trying to reach the key that Vera Fedorka has put beside his bed, far from his reach but close enough to get at the price of chafing and bloodying his wrist, he gets off the bed. Vera Fedorka lies on the floor with blood still gushing from her eye. For a moment, he forgets about everything.
“Help!” he screams.
No guard comes. Then he realizes that what he thought to be a scream was just a whimper, muted by the dryness inside his throat and the bleeding cut outside.
Outside on busy Volodymyrska Street, no passer-by could tell that the fragile woman walking down is hiding a blade that’s still bloody from killing the two security guards who tried to stop her on her way out of the building, Nooria occasionally stops and looks around. It is not the tall buildings and shiny shop windows she is looking at over but people’s faces. Most don’t even give her as much of a glance and don’t notice that Nooria closes her eyes and deeply concentrates for a second when some of them step her by.
Next to a huge SUV with its engine idling, a brawny man and a well-dressed, blonde woman are fighting. Although a fur parka covers her shoulders, she is underdressed for the chilly night in her mini skirt and thin stockings. She trembles with cold and pain as the man delivers one slap after the other to her face. She grabs the golden chain hanging from the man’s neck, strong as that of an ox, as if that could prevent her from falling on her knees under the impact of the slaps.
“Smerdyucha suko,” he shouts, “ya komu skazav, viddai meni vsi babky!”
He grabs her hand holding on to his thick chain and twitches her wrist. The woman yells from pain, falls on all fours and tries to crawl away.
A police patrol car drives by them. It slows down for a minute, then accelerates again and drives off. Neither do the passers-by on the sidewalk pay any attention to the scene. A pimp punishing a hooker is not a sight they would prefer over looking at the glittering shop windows.
The man is too preoccupied with beating the woman to pay attention to them. He is about to slap her once more when his hand, ready to deliver another strike, goes down and reaches behind his back. Then he looks at his palm which is bloody all over. His body jerks forward as if he had taken a punch from behind. Then he looks down to his left chest from where the tip of a long, curved blade is protruding.
“Shcho tse bulo?” he whispers before emitting a painful moan as he collapses. A car drives by, honking wildly.
The woman stares at the tiny figure with the hooded coat appearing behind the collapsed pimp.