A hulking, tall man walked up to him.
“Hi! Are you Maxim Volkov?”
“Who are you?” Maxim looked him up and down. Tall, well built — somebody who obviously worked out daily. Dark hair, piercing green eyes. Security, maybe.
“I’m Jason Steele, Ms. Caroline Turner’s security and chauffer. You’re a dead ringer for your pictures.” He extended his hand.
Maxim shook it. The man had a strong handshake. “Nice to meet you. I am waiting for my bag.” They both turned their attention to the carousel.
Once the luggage had been retrieved, they made their way to the car. As Maxim climbed into the front seat, he grabbing his phone out of his pocket saying to Jason as he dialed, “Samantha told me to call Caroleena’s office when we were leaving.”
Jason laughed. “Dude, you better start saying her name right. She’ll have your head on a platter. She isn’t someone to mess around with.”
Maxim raised his eyebrows at him. “Does she give you trouble?”
“No. Nobody gives me trouble. I don’t tolerate such behavior.” Jason looked in his mirrors before pulling out of the parking lot into traffic. “Ask my wife — or Caroline for that matter.”
“Same here. She will see fast that I am my own boss. I listen and accommodate to a certain degree. After that, it’s done my way.” He paused to listen to Samantha on the other end of the line. “Hi, Samantha. We are on our way. Yes, Jason found me. See you soon.” He shut the phone off, slipping it into the inside pocket on his suit coat.
“This’ll be fun to watch. The sparks ought to fly with you two. She’s a tough cookie and has a mouth on her.” Jason whistled, shaking his head. “Prepare yourself, man.”
“No preparation necessary. I’m always ready.”
“Good. You’ll need to be on your toes with her.”
“Speaking of which, she said for me to spend the night at her penthouse. Does she do that when she wants? Do you allow that? You are her security, no?” Maxim turned in his seat to watch Jason’s reaction to the question. He wasn’t disappointed in the response either.
Jason’s gaze narrowed as he watched the road in front of him. He turned his steely gaze on Maxim. “She told you to spend the night at the penthouse?”
“Yes. You don’t approve, I see. Good thing. She needs to be talked to. It is not safe. Not smart for an intelligent woman to do. She needs a keeper.” Maxim looked out the window. He couldn’t believe how foolish she was. He could be anybody. Opening her house to a stranger was a behavior that needed to be stopped.
The trees were beautiful. The ornamental cherry trees were full of round pin pom-poms, and nearby were crabapple trees with bright pink and white crabapple blossoms, the delicate petals floating in the wind like snowflakes. When their vehicle stopped at a light, he heard the familiar shout of the street pretzel vendor. “Pretzels. Hot, salted pretzels!” The bright yellow and red canopy over the stainless steel stand visible for long distances. He had missed the city, loved the bustle of Manhattan. It would be nice to see some of his old friends and check out his old restaurant again, on 42nd Street--The Russian Room had been a home away from home for him for many years. Spring in New York was beyond compare. Even in the heart of New York City, there was a riot of blooming tulips, lilacs, pansy beds, dogwood and cherry trees. After a long grueling winter, the residents were nicer too. People enjoyed everything, even the rain, after such a harsh winter.
“You have no idea. I’ve been saying it since I met her three years ago. I’ve tried to rein her in, but I’m not her husband or disciplinarian. I wish I had that authority many days. I’ve lectured her on this several times. I’ve even threatened to tan her backside — not that I’d actually go through with it. My wife would kill me. But damn, she needs her bottom paddled.” His hands squeezed the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. “Makes my palms itch.”
“Palms itch?”
“Yeah, you know. The palm of my hand wants to spank her so bad, it’s itching. Make sense?”
“Yes. We don’t say that, but yes. Makes my palm itch too. I’ll be ‘dancing from the stove’ with her, definitely.” Maxim nodded, laughing when he saw the confusion on Jason’s face.
Jason’s eyebrows furrowed. “Dancing from the… stove? Does this have to do with you being a chef?”
“Nyet. It means. How you say it — it means I’ll start from the beginning. Right from our first meeting she will know that I mean business. I’m not going to be run over by a small slip of a woman.”
Jason laughed, running his hand through his hair. “Dude, you need to rethink that. First, she’s not a ‘small slip of a woman.’ Caroline is about five foot nine inches and close to six feet when she’s in heels she likes to wear for work. She’s not slight either — she’s curvy and… sturdy. And she’s tough as nails, sassy, and someone who’ll fight you for control. Trust me on this.”
Maxim’s cock stirred. He loved curvy women. As a big man, he wanted a lush and round women, and they provided that naturally. He loved nestling against that plush flesh. “My father would say, ‘Strong like bull’. He also loved large women. Must be where I got it from. But again, she will learn that I like rules and have expectations for behavior and manners, as well as healthy eating and fitness.”
“Sounds good to me. About damn time somebody came along to help her with some of her weaknesses. This’ll be good for her — all the way around, it sounds.”
They passed the rest of the ride in silence, until they pulled into the basement level parking garage of the advertising agency’s building.
Jason opened his window and swiped his badge in front of the reader, the gate lifting, letting them in. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m parking, and then we can take the elevator up to Caroline’s office. I need to talk to her, then I can walk you up there myself.”
Maxim smiled. “That is good.”
* * *
Sammi’s voice sounded from the speaker in Caroline’s office. “Jason and Maxim Volkov are here.”
Caroline took a deep breath. “I’ll be right there.” She stood, nervously pulling at the skirt. A simple little black dress seemed to make the most sense today. It would be flattering. She wore her strappy three-inch heels that accentuated her legs, a simple strand of pearls around her neck along with matching earrings. She felt this would at least make an impression.
Even she had to admit she looked great in the dress, especially with her bodysuit Spanx. How in the name of hell did women survive before Spanx?
She looked at her reflection in her window.
Here goes nothing.
Opening the door, she walked out to the reception area. Jason looked angry.
What else is new?
A very attractive, well-built man stood talking to Sammi. He appeared to be well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered in a custom suit. He turned his deep chocolate brown eyes toward her. His penetrating gaze made her uncomfortable, the man seeming to see right through her. Even in her heels, he stood taller than her by easily four inches. She didn’t usually have to look up to men when she dressed for work. She liked that. It didn’t give the man any feeling of advantage.
His head was shaved, a look that was definitely a weakness for her. She loved the look of a bald head. The confident and masculine men didn’t rely on their hair — and usually they were no frills and no nonsense men too. His muscled physique was easily visible even under the suit. Maxim had broad shoulders and huge arms — even his thighs filled out the pants nicely. He’d be someone who would push her in a gym.
But isn’t that what you wanted? All that bulk next to you, guiding and instructing you?
He smiled her way. He had a small dimple on his right cheek and a cleft in his chin.
Good God!
How in the hell was she going to be able to focus around this man? He extended his hand to her and she noted the wide palm, the long, thick fingers. His hand would easily cover one of her ass cheeks.
Jesus. I bet that man can pack
a wallop. That would be one helluva spanking, that’s for sure!
She cleared her throat, extending her hand to him. Instead of shaking it, he pulled it up to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “Miss Caroleena Turner, it is nice to meet you.”
“Caroline. The name is Caroline. It’s nice to meet you also. Come into my office.” She walked toward her door, opening it for him, turning to Jason as an afterthought. “Jason, is there a reason you’re still here?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, there is a reason. We’ll discuss this in your office.” He brushed past her, following Maxim through the door. Shutting it behind her, she went to the area in front of the fireplace. “Please. Make yourself comfortable.”
She started to sit down until she realized that Jason was staring at her. He stood with his hands on his narrow hips, his suit coat opened, his shoulder holster and gun showing under his left arm.
“Oh…”
“Oh, is right! How many times have we discussed your safety, Caroline?”
“Uhm. A few, I guess. Why are you asking?” She lifted her chin. Her stomach did little flips when his tone got like that, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know that.
“I’m asking because you invited Maxim to stay at your penthouse — without running it by me first or even meeting him.” He pointed his finger at her wagging it like she was a recalcitrant child. “It’s unsafe, Caroline. Unsafe!”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Jason, calm your tits. I checked this man out. He has awesome references and a spotless resume. I have no doubt in my mind that he’s somebody I can trust.”
In two long strides, Jason stood toe-to-toe with her. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Do. Not. Use that tone of voice with me! I can only keep you safe if I know who you’re talking to and who is coming to the penthouse. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” She hated when roles became reversed with Jason. He could be very intimidating, and after talking to Karen, his wife, Caroline had become even more afraid of that voice. As a Dom, he routinely disciplined his wife, and she had no doubt in her mind that if Karen had just said those same words, she would have been over his knee instantly. Just the thought of it had her clit throbbing in her already damp panties.
Jason pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re going to push me too far and one of these days you’ll suffer the consequences. Believe me.”
She pulled her chin from of his grasp, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Maxim.
“Oh, don’t worry about Maxim. You may have finally met your match, Caroline. This guy isn’t going to take any of your shit. We may finally get to see Ms. Turner get her comeuppance.” He chuckled, high fiving Maxim as he walked out of her office, leaving her staring at his back.
“He’s right, you know?” Maxim quirked an eyebrow at her.
“But I had checked into you first. I knew your background, talked to your references.” She sat in the chair opposite him, crossing her legs, clasping her hands in her lap.
“It does not matter. He is your security. You need to run things by him. You pay him to keep you safe, no?”
“Yes. I do. But—”
“No ‘buts.’ You should have told him. My references could have lied about me, and you know that as a businesswoman. You were wrong.”
She stared at Maxim in shock. She should be putting him in his place, asserting her authority. But something in his steely gaze made her sit straight — and stay quiet. His rational and intellectual response, no feelings attached to it all, made her take pause. It was something she hadn’t been used to in men. Some were intellectual, yes, but they were often too sensitive, and it made it too easy for her to write them off as being dramatic. Or sometimes they had no emotion, but lacked the intelligence, and she’d dismiss them for not being rational. In this instance though, she had to agree.
Both men were right.
“As a grown woman, you need to take better care of yourself instead of relying on others. It’s your responsibility to keep yourself safe. Yes, you have paid help to be the strength and muscle you need, but you have to actively participate in your safety also.” He crossed his legs and stretched his long arms along the back of the loveseat, making it look more like a chair than a sofa.
Once again, she knew she should have reasserted her authority at that moment, but instead she found herself swallowing in reaction to his rebuke.
“I’m sure you’ll do better next time, but you need to apologize to him. Not just to make amends, but because it’s the right thing to do.” He leaned forward to pour some water into a glass, gulping half the glass down.
“Sammi can get you some coffee, tea, chai, espresso — whatever you would like. I’ll just buzz her.” She started to stand, but his outstretched hand stopped her.
“No. I can see the choices on the counter over there. Why would she need to serve me? I don’t need service. Water is fine. Sit.” He waited until she returned to her seat again before speaking. “Now, let’s discuss why you’ve asked me to be your fitness chef. What are you looking for out of this relationship? What are your goals?”
“Well, I need to lose twenty to thirty pounds. I want to eat healthier, and I need help with an exercise regimen.”
He nodded. “Stand, please.”
“Why?” Her heart began to race.
He sat passively, watching. “Because I asked you to. Stand.”
Caroline stood up, feeling very self-conscious, running her hands over her dress, pulling and tugging nervously. Unsure of what to do with her arms, she crossed them over her chest, trying to hide her large breasts.
She’d always felt sheepish about her breasts. It didn’t help that men often addressed her chest before even making eye contact.
“Hands down at your sides.” He waited for her to obey. “Turn please, so I may see the back of you. Stand still with your ass facing me.”
Her cheeks flushed and she contemplated refusing, but he interjected before she could voice an objection. “No, Caroleena, I need to see for myself the job ahead of me.”
“Caroline. It’s pronounced Caro-line.” She crossed her arms again, self-conscious in front of this obviously dictatorial man.
“Sorry. You’ll have to excuse my accent some days. It’s a beautiful name. In Russia, we pronounce this name as Caroleena — and Lena is a very popular woman’s name. I’ll get confused some days. It is not personal. Hands down.” He twirled his forefinger in a circle. “Turn, please.”
Clearing her throat, she slowly pivoted, focusing on the little throw pillow in front of her on the couch.
Oh, God! He’ll probably quit just looking at my huge ass. ‘Sorry ma’am — too much, too big.’
“Okay, you may sit, Caroline.”
She sat down, unable to even make eye contact with him. She just knew he was aghast at the task set before him.
“Why do you think you need to lose twenty to thirty pounds?” She lifted her gaze to see his eyebrows furrowed. Was this a joke? He’d just completed a full body scan with his eyes.
“Maxim, do you need me to get you glasses, you know, reading spectacles?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that sarcasm, Caroline?”
God, his voice could be so firm.
What have you gotten yourself into?
“Uhm, yes, I guess.” She tugged at the skirt of her dress, pulling at it to cover more of her damn thighs. “It’s just you saw my body. You know why I called you, are you trying to humiliate me?”
His eyes narrowed and he stared at her quietly for a moment. “I would never humiliate you like that. From what I can see, you just need to tone up. Your body is fine. We’ll get you doing some cardio every day with some weight training and targeted exercises. You’ll be in prime condition again.”
She scowled at him. “You’ve got to be shitting me. I’ve been told, on more than one occasion, that I’d have more dates and men if I lost some weight. Did you see the ass I have?”
“Yes
, I did. It’s a great ass. If women said this, it is because they are jealous. If men said that, it is because they are children. A man wants a woman, not some skinny girl built like a teenage boy.”
She’d never heard a guy say that. Ever. She was at a loss as to how to respond.
“When I’m with a woman, I want a bottom and body that pillows my large frame, a body that I can squeeze and plump in my hands. I like generous ass to pinch or paddle.” His right hand swiped the air like it was smacking a buttock. “Your body is a dream. You have some areas that need to be firmed up a little, but I don’t recommend losing more than ten pounds. Your frame isn’t made to be slight or petite.”
“I hate hearing that! I’ve always wanted to be thin. If I lose thirty pounds, I’ll be thin.” A hint of a whine crept into her voice. “I used to be that small.”
“When you were a young girl. Obviously, you are a woman now. Women have mature bodies which should match their mature personality, yes?”
“I guess. We’ll see what happens. With clean, healthy eating and exercise, I may lose that amount of weight anyway, right?” She so wanted him to agree with her. She needed to prove to Derek — and herself — that her body could be young and svelte again. Hearing that she had a ‘mature’ body didn’t make her feel any better about her situation.
“No, Lena. Not under my care and guidance. You won’t get to an unhealthy weight. I won’t allow it. If you want to be at an unhealthy weight, you’ll need to find another fitness chef. I’m not your man for that.”
“Caroline. You’ll call me Caroline. No, I want you. I’ve checked into your reputation and references. You’re who I want to employ, Max.” She felt resigned to the ignominious fate of possessing an ass that ate her shorts for the rest of her life, and breasts that fell out of shirts. Maybe firming up would help the situation somewhat?
“Oh, no. The name is Maxim. I am not Max.” He wagged a finger at her. “All right, Caroline, we will sign all the papers, and tonight we’ll do your measurements and weight so we can watch your progress. Are you having me cook you dinner tonight?”
My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3) Page 3
