He attaches the clips to his nipples, picks up the poppers and makes himself comfortable lying on his right side, leaning on the armrest, with his legs spread wide. He grips the back of my neck, presses my face to his hips, and sniffs from the little bottle. His body reacts immediately and his cock swells and stiffens in my mouth.
Damn, this shit smells terrible.
The erection doesn’t last long; just a minute or two. As soon as his penis softens again, he picks up the lubricant and condoms from the table and goes back to his relaxed position. He orders me to go down on the floor on my knees, sniffs again and pushes his solidifying cock to the back of my throat.
A few minutes later, my kinky cowboy unpacks a condom. Instead of putting it on his penis, he grasps my hand, straightens my fingers and unrolls it over them, stretching the rubber down my wrist. Then he squeezes some lube onto the condom, draws in some more of the smelly shit and orders, ‘Put it in,’ while placing my hand at his bunghole.
Unfuckingbelievable – my horseman turns out to be headless for real!
My mind boggles for a moment but I push my hand in. Whatever! As long as he doesn’t encroach on my ass. When all my fingers drown inside him, he takes my hand and pushes it further, until it disappears up to my wrist.
‘Crook your fingers inside,’ he orders again with ease. I peep at him. His face is ridiculously delighted. I cannot see my hand but I visualise my long nails that will scratch him inside and shake my head. He sniffs some more and smiles. ‘Don’t worry, doll. Just do it. Make a fist.’
The rest of our hour-long session I anal-intrude him while enthusiastically sucking his cock, helping with my left hand to maintain its hardness. When eventually he comes loudly, I remove my hand. It’s covered with blood. I roll off the condom and hurriedly wipe the remains of the red stains off my hands. I fight the strong urge to vomit, quickly dress without saying a word, and rush out of the room. But I realise that I will never make it to the bathroom, come back and puke right into the champagne bucket.
The rest is a haze. The next thing I remember, I am in the middle of the club sitting on top of Margo, on the floor, kicking her and pulling her hair.
She knew. She didn’t tell me.
The night shift is already here. When I turn to dodge Margo’s attempt to slap me, I spot Natalia’s distorted face above me. It looks like she is trying to shout something at me, but no words are coming out. Like somebody has turned the volume down. All I can hear is humming noises.
Natalia is trying to drag me off Margo, but the rage makes me surprisingly strong. I brush her away while slapping and scratching my victim underneath me.
‘Jul, stop it! Jul! If I told you, he would have never taken you! This prick’s main thrill is to stun and sicken the girl!’ Margo keeps uttering but I can’t hear her either.
Unfuckingbelievable how booze so easily transforms some people from normal to angry, strong and absolutely stupid creatures…
Apparently, we make so much noise that even the boss steps out of his office to check what’s happening. He estimates the amount of damage and calmly tells Natalia, ‘Get your fucking sister out of here or I will fire her.’ When he sees that I am totally stoned and out of control, he grabs a jug from the bar and splashes me with ice-cold water.
I freeze. Margo fizzles, removes me – setting herself free, she throws ‘Crazy bitch!’ at me and leaves the club.
Without taking his sinister eyes off me, the boss shouts, ‘Stop staring and go back to work, people.’ He turns to Natalia. ‘With all my love to you, Princess, next month this junkie is out of my club.’
22
The next few days I spend in bed – I call in sick and don’t show up at work. Four months of being deeply soaked in booze, stress and perverted extremes have exhausted my nerves. I haven’t been able to eat anything for three days – my memory won’t let go of the bright images of my adventure with the cowboy, which has wiped out my appetite. The only substance that enters my body is the fume of the burned cannabis plant.
Someone knocks on the door. It can’t be Masha. She went for lunch with some customer from last night (the poor guy probably didn’t notice an Adam’s apple in the darkness of the club). Besides, she knows the door is not locked.
‘Go away! Nobody is home!’
I turn away from the door and pull the blanket over my head.
‘If nobody is home, who is speaking, then?’ laughs Lena and lets herself in. She walks through the dark room, flings open the curtains and continues, ‘Jul, what’s happening? Aren’t you going to Natalia’s birthday dinner?’
Crap, I completely forgot about it!
‘I don’t feel well, I can’t…’ I mumble, burying myself even deeper under the blanket while making my voice sound sick.
Damn, why didn’t I lock the door?
Lena comes to the bed, peels the blanket off me and chatters, ‘You are definitely going to get worse if you don’t go out and get some fresh air. Look at you! Nothing but bones. You must eat something! We are doing Italian today, seems like a good place. Get up now, dress and put a smile on your face.’
I know there is only one way to keep her quiet… I pull on the sweater and jeans that are the first things to come into my hands, ignoring Lena’s telling-off that I must dress up because we are going to a restaurant. I brush my eyelashes with mascara a few times, grab a jacket.
‘I’m ready. Let’s stop at the florist first.’
I’m surprised to see Margo at the table, next to Natalia. I stop indecisively, holding the flowers. Margo smiles at me.
‘Oh, stop it, Jul. I’ve already forgotten about it. If I were in your place, I probably would have lost it too. I should have warned you anyway.’
When, finally, I find the strength to look her in the eye, I notice a few scratches on her cheek.
‘Was that me? Sorry, Margo, I didn’t mean to…’
Natalia takes my hand, and pulls me down to sit. Then she takes the flowers.
‘Thanks Jul. They are lovely.’
We order drinks, make the first toast for the birthday girl. The conversation flows and the evening is pleasant.
Natalia tells us about her idea of how to invest our money when we get back to Ukraine, reminding Lena how pointlessly they blew their earnings after their previous contract. The plan is simple – to put our money together and buy an apartment in Kiev. She has already found a flat through her friend, a realtor. The owners are chronic alcoholics, and desperately need money to pay some debts, so they are not asking for much. Her friend promises to hold it for another two months, knowing that Natalia is a cash buyer. They bargained and met at 55 grand US, a fantastic price for a three-bedroom apartment close to the center of Kiev. ‘We could pool together and buy it!’ finishes Natalia, with a spark of excitement and confidence in her eyes.
‘We could renovate it and maybe rent it out!’ exclaims Lena, and we all nod in agreement.
‘It sounds so cool! Now I am jealous. I wish I could go in with you, dolls, but I’ve already promised my brother I’d help him with his businesses,’ Margo sighs and pouts.
The food is delicious. We order more wine. We talk and laugh a lot. Oh… I’ve missed these always-fun times with my sisters.
When we move on to dessert, Natalia looks at me with a slight touch of worry and asks, ‘Where are you planning to work next month?’
I shrug. ‘I have no idea…’
‘Well, I have a few places in mind. Would you like me to check it out for you?’