Damn him.
At the loud knock on the door, I slipped on a pair of red velvet pumps and raced to open it. After that it was just pure chaos. As far as I could tell, they all spoke only Russian and knew just a few English catchphrases and words. No matter what I said or asked, they nodded their heads and said yes and then kept doing whatever they were going to do.
One of the men dropped a heavy pile of iron rods onto the living room carpet as another one tore down our delicate lace curtains. I guess we were getting bars on our windows now. I couldn’t help but think our apartment would be like a birdcage. Was that how Emma’s boyfriend Dimitri and men like Vaska liked to keep their women? Locking them up in pretty cages where they’d feel safe and protected but not free? I shook my head. That was unfair. The truth was a security system would be a blessing. This building was the best we could afford as graduate students, but it was far from safe and Lord knows the landlord didn’t give a shit about our well-being.
A third man was adjusting a ladder near the door and had already begun drilling holes into the wall. For what reason, I did not know, but there were lots of electric cords and what looked like a security motherboard resting on a toolbox near his feet. The fourth was drilling a hole high in the wall on the outside of the door and the last man was checking the fuse box, probably double-checking that all of this twenty-second century super-techy security equipment would not blow out our antiquated apartment’s 1950s fuses.
The man with the iron rods picked one up and came dangerously close to smashing the glass in my framed copy of a signed Buffy the Vampire Slayer script. It was the ‘Restless’ episode from season four where Buffy was stalked by a primal animal force. I tripped over an end table in my race to pull it off the wall and save it. Amid this chaos, Emma walked in.
Grabbing her by the hand, I dragged her into my bedroom where the noise was down to a muted roar.
“What is going on?” she asked.
Shoving the perfume bottles on the top of my vanity aside, I propped up my Buffy frame. It was then I saw Vaska’s cufflinks. He had forgotten them. They were silver with two large blood-red rubies that looked like two demon eyes staring back at me, damning me. I snatched them up and shoved them into my pocket.
And then I did something I never thought I’d ever do.
I lied to her.
Straight to her face.
I lied to my best friend.
Actually, technically, I didn’t lie as much as omit some pertinent facts.
I couldn’t even explain why I did it. It’s not like Emma wouldn’t understand. She’d had a similar experience with her own Russian man. I knew she wouldn’t judge me, just like I hadn’t judged her and really there was nothing to be judged about. I was a grown woman who’d had some amazing sex, end of story.
For some insane reason, I decided to gloss over the more pertinent events and make light of the entire encounter. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to get into the salacious details while there were five Russian men on the other side of the door, and that was partially true, but not the whole truth. I didn’t know how I felt about my encounter with Vaska and, at least for now, didn’t want to talk about it till I processed my feelings. Plus, I could tell Emma really liked Dimitri, and I knew he was going to be great for her. She needed someone to shake up her world a little bit. Someone to challenge her to be more adventurous and outgoing. He was just the man to do it and I didn’t want my impulsive mistake with his business partner to in any way jeopardize or screw that up for her.
I rambled the entire half-truth. “It’s the craziest thing. At the ungodly hour of seven o’clock, there’s a knock on our door. I open it to find this drop dead gorgeous man dressed in the most expensive suit I’ve ever seen. Iz zees the aparrrtment of Eeema Doyle, he says. I said yes. Then he says, my name iz Vaska.”
Fortunately for me, we were both late for class so she didn’t quiz me further.
As I took a seat in the back of the room at my Reading and Writing in Linguistically Diverse Classrooms, a requirement for the focus I wanted to have with my education graduate degree, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pair of cufflinks. There was no way these weren’t real rubies, which meant these cufflinks were probably worth a small fortune. I could pawn them and cover a portion of my and Emma’s rent for this month with them.
The thought had merit. It smacked a little of payment for services rendered, but I could get over that part as I imagined Vaska’s face when I cheekily told him I’d pawned his cufflinks. Not that I had any plans to see him ever again. I had every intention of being nowhere near my apartment at eight p.m. tonight, just in case he showed up expecting a repeat performance of this morning. After that, he’d probably lose interest, especially if I ignored his texts. I was quite proud of myself for not responding to his text from earlier. The fact that I had reread it a hundred times didn’t count.
I refused to become intrigued by this man. He was trouble with a capital stay-the-fuck-away T.
I rolled the cufflinks around on my palm. Even under the awful fluorescent lighting of this classroom, they still sparkled with crimson fire. Did I dare pawn them? What would happen if Vaska tracked me down and learned the truth? I bit my lower lip. Maybe he would spank me for being a bad girl. I shifted in my seat. Maybe he would tie me up to the bed and take off his belt and whip my ass as he made me beg for forgiveness. Or maybe he would make me crawl across the room in penance like that scene from Nine and 1/2 Weeks. Would he take out his cock and force me to suck it? The idea made my cheeks flame as I imagined the terrifyingly long length of his shaft being thrust down my throat. I shifted again and felt a slight twinge of pain. My pussy was still sore from the pounding he had given me earlier.
I reached for my water bottle and cast my gaze around the classroom, nervous someone was watching me and guessing my illicit thoughts. I had no idea where these thoughts were even coming from. I had never really been the kinky sex type of girl. This morning was the first time a man had ever dared spank me in bed. I still couldn’t believe how much it had turned me on. How much it still turned me on. Was I actually considering pawning this man’s property just to piss him off to see what he would do to me in bed as a punishment? The idea was crazy, especially since I had no intention of ever seeing him again.
On the way back to my apartment after class, I passed a pawnshop on Devon Avenue. Without giving it further thought, I walked through the door. The man behind the counter gave me an odd look when I laid the cufflinks on the small black velvet square.
Picking up a jeweler’s loupe, he examined one then the other. “Nice quality. Five carats each. Untreated. Probably an R6/5, maybe even an R7/5.” Lowering the loupe, he narrowed his eyes as he asked, “Where did you get these?”
I shrugged. “My grandfather passed away. It’s my inheritance.”
“If it’s your inheritance, then why are you pawning them?”
“I’m a graduate student. Tuition trumps sentimentality.”
He rubbed his chin. “It’s still early in the day, all I have on hand in cash is about eleven thousand. Take it or leave it.”
Eleven thousand?
Thousand? Eleven of them?
Oh. My. God.
How much money do you have to have to casually forget cufflinks worth eleven thousand dollars?