by RWK Clark
The woman looked Rasia over. “Can I help you?”
“Sorry, wrong room,” she said, without so much as a smile. Now she walked to the other door and began to pound on it, yelling his name. He did not answer.
“Oleks! Did you get drunk? Wake up!” There was not so much as a sound coming from the other side of the door, not even the television he loved to watch so much. She took the elevator down to the lobby and approached the front desk.
“Good morning. My cameraman is in the room next to mine, and I think he may have gotten a bit tipsy last night. I can’t wake him, and we have work to do. Could I have the key to his room, please?” She asked. Her voice was pleasant, but there was a sneer on her face.
“What room, madame?” asked the clerk.
“Room 435,” she replied.
After he punched some numbers into a small machine he swiped a key card through it and handed it to her with a smile. “The President called this morning to check on your well-being. He said to tell you his driver would be waiting for you out front at eleven sharp.”
“Thank you,” she said, and turned and walked back to the elevator.
When Rasia arrived at Oleks’ door she didn’t even bother to knock first; she was furious now. She keyed the door with the card and it immediately popped open. She stepped in and flipped the light switch to the left of the door.
The bed was still made. He had not even slept there the night before.
It took a moment for the cleanliness and emptiness of the room to take root in her mind, and she stood staring at the bed incredulously. “Screw it,” she finally said, and she walked over and grabbed his camera case and then left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Back in her own room she began to view the video, tapping the screen to create the still shots she wanted. She worked on this for an hour before settling down to outline her article. She was going to produce a true masterpiece, and she was getting more and more excited with each passing minute.
At ten she began to pull out of her work-induced trance a bit, and she knew it was time to start getting ready to meet President DeSai. She tried Oleks on his cell again and then she changed into a yellow sun dress with matching flats. She tried him again and then put on her makeup, making sure it was flawless. She tried him yet again, but to no avail. Now she brushed her long, wavy red locks; she would wear her hair down today.
Normally she would not even consider meeting a man without her companion; this would usually eliminate the chances of him hitting on her; after all, she wasn’t going to give in, and advances always just made things awkward. But today she would be meeting the President on her own. It would be fine; didn’t he always have secret service with him anyway?
At ten minutes to eleven she strode off the elevator and walked through the lobby. She could see the President’s limousine waiting, and the driver was standing at the rear door.
“Good morning, Ms. Engres, I hope you were able to get plenty of rest,” he greeted her as he opened the door for her.
She nodded curtly at him. “Yes, thank you,” she replied as she got into the back of the limo.
Soon they were pulling into the underground garage at the White House, and Rasia found herself wondering what kind of wonderful food he would feed her for lunch. Her stomach was growling, and she was more than ready to have a bite.
She had tried Oleks a number of times during the drive, to no avail. With each unsuccessful attempt she had grown more and more angry, and now it was time to put on her professional face. She had to push the thought of her absent and missing cameraman out of her mind.
Secret Service met her inside and escorted her to the dining room, where Cyril DeSai sat waiting, a smile across his face.
“Hello, Ms. Engres! You look luminous. Yellow is definitely your color,” he began, standing and pulling her chair out so she could sit. “Where is Mr. Vanderflute? Did he need to use the facilities?”
Rasia looked at him as he sat back down. “No, he decided he wouldn’t be joining us today. Normally, I would have cancelled because of his decision, but you have gone to the trouble of planning the day, so here I am.” She took a drink from the water glass at her place.
“Well, I’m certainly glad you didn’t. I would have been deeply disappointed,” Cyril said. As if on cue a servant came into the dining room with a tray holding two bowls of soup, both flanked by chunks of steaming bread.
The servant placed the bowls in front of them, then turned to Rasia. “The soup is our bisque of tomato and lobster. What would you have to drink, Madame?”
“I would enjoy a glass of pinot noir, if you have it.”
Cyril chuckled. “Of course we have it, dear Rasia. I am a winemaker, remember?”
Now Rasia blushed. “Of course. I guess it slipped my mind.”
Cyril composed himself a bit. “Relax. This promises to be a wonderful meal.”
The servant reappeared with two glasses of pinot after a very short time, during which silence hung over the dining area. It was when things were so still that Rasia felt the most uncomfortable. It always gave her a feeling of powerlessness.
She took her wine glass and waved it gently beneath her nose, inhaling its scent deeply. Oh, it was rich and full-bodied! A smile crept across her face and she closed her eyes to take a sip.
Cyril watched her closely. He gazed at her as she held the liquid in her mouth, swishing it over her tongue and languishing in its flavor. It was the most erotic thing he had ever watched a woman do, and he felt the tingle of an impending erection between his legs.
“You know wine,” he stated in a husky tone.
Rasia opened her eyes and looked over the top of her wine glass at him. “I know a bit. You could call it a hobby.”
DeSai smiled and straightened up in his chair, arranging his napkin over his lap as he did. “Let’s begin, Rasia, before it gets cold. Shall we?”
Soon they were eating, and DeSai gallantly initiated the conversation by bringing up his suggestions for their afternoon activities. “I thought we would stroll around some of the monuments, and I could tell you some of the nation’s history. It will be nice to get to know you. Is there anything in particular you have an interest in seeing?”
“No,” Rasia said. “I’ll leave that up to you.”
DeSai was reading her, but if she knew it she did not let him know. Yes, she was holding herself back, but her eyes disagreed with her words. The distant attitude she exhibited did not matter to him, though it did keep him awake half the night. He had already decided that he would give her the special bite; she was the one he had chosen to be his queen, and soon she would know it. He had even considered simply biting her before making love to her, thereby sealing the deal, but he didn’t want to ruin things. He wanted everything to be perfect, so he would wait.
“Then that settles it,” Cyril continued. “A ‘monumental’ stroll it will be.”
The servant appeared with their plates, one at a time. The plates held beautiful glazed pork, garlic mashed potatoes, and roasted peppers, all of which melted in Rasia’s mouth. After she had enjoyed a single bite of each dish on her plate she began to relax; it was inevitable. She was enjoying some of the best food she had ever eaten, and she could feel the man at the table across from her adoring her with each second. Oh, to be indulged and worshipped for the rest of her life!
“President DeSai, did you always make wine?”
Cyril looked up from his dish with surprise. After a bit of thought he nodded. “Yes, I always have made wine, just as the family that came before me.”
Rasia took another bite of potato and took her time savoring it. “Have you always wanted to, I mean?”
Now DeSai put his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I cannot remember a time when I didn’t want to.”
Her gaze did not falter. She continued to hold his eyes; she found herself interested in what he had to say, but she also had some much deeper questions.
“Then why run for t
he presidency?”
The two continued to stare at each other for a moment, and Cyril began to smile. “How about if I tell you all about it another time. There are very good reasons, but we should keep the spirit of the day light, yes?”
Rasia nodded and returned his grin. They ate in silence, and soon the servant was once again at the table, this time to clear the plates. With hands full he said, “For dessert we have chocolate soufflé with vanilla ice cream. Will you enjoy hot coffee with your dessert?”
They both agreed, and soon they were quietly eating the homemade soufflé and ice cream. It went down very nicely as a topper to their meal, and the rich coffee hit the spot as well. Soon the entire meal was over, and Cyril turned to Rasia with an eager look as he stood.
“Are you ready to leave, my dear?”
Rasia stood as well, taking her purse off the table. “Yes, I am,” she said. They had chatted a bit during the meal about a number of topics, and she had even told him about her father’s death. She was feeling comfortable and loose with him now, and she hated herself for it, but the funny thing was she had no desire to put her guard up.
They walked around the Lincoln Memorial and the Reflecting Pool. They sat and talked at the Washington Monument, and he shared his childhood with her. He even told her about Cecile, but he spoke of her in modern terms. Before he knew it he had told her about his entire life, or at least the parts which made things seem consistent with the times.
From there they visited the museum, which she found incredible and interesting. She decided that it was her favorite site of the day. By the time they wrapped up their touring it was seven in the evening, and she was walking on air. He had managed to show her a wonderful time, and she was glad that Oleks had played hooky. Now they were in the limousine and they were headed to her hotel.
He walked her to her room, and when they arrived at her door she stopped; she would not ask him in. He may have impressed her with his knowledge and company, but she would not give him an opportunity to ruin it all. Men always wanted to ruin everything.
But to her surprise he didn’t ask or insinuate that he wanted to join her. He took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you for your company today. I had the time of my life, and I mean that, Rasia.”
She took back her hand and smiled slightly. “I had a good time as well, Mr. President.”
“Please, I’m sure we can eliminate the formalities. Call me Cyril,” he said. Would you like to attend the opera with me tomorrow evening, Rasia?”
She looked a bit confused for a moment, then said, “I will be checking out the morning after. It is probably not a good idea.”
“Then come with me to Cliffside Wineries. I would love for you to see it and sample its wares. You will be seeing a real part of me in its workings, not to mention it is one of my favorite things to do.” He smiled at her, his eyes filled with eager hope.
Rasia laughed. “Okay, Cliffside then. What time should I be ready?”
“I will send the car to fetch you at eight in the morning. We can have breakfast, I’ll show you around the White House, and then we go out to the winery.” He was thrilled that she was going to see him again. Tomorrow would be the day, he would see to it. He intended to turn on his full ‘charm’, he would put her under his spell, now that she was so open to him.
He bowed slightly, his eyes glazed over a bit. “Sleep well tonight, my Rasia,” he said, and once she was in her room with the door closed, he turned and walked away.
She tossed her purse onto the dresser and flopped down on her bed. For the next while she stared at the ceiling and thought about President DeSai. He was definitely suave. He knew what to say and when to say it. He was persistent also, and this was a trait she admired. He was also gorgeous, but she could overlook that fact if it began to distract her too much.
The potential in the friendship they were forming knew no bounds. She fully intended to take advantage of every last bit of it for her own ends. She snickered a bit; if only he knew her real intentions. It then occurred to her that she wasn’t even sure of her own intentions with him. Rasia was beginning to feel differently about DeSai than before.
While she was strongly attracted to him, Rasia felt no love; it was something she was incapable of. She would not allow the fact that she was a virgin have any influence on the situation. Sure, she was interested in what it would be like to have sex with someone like Cyril DeSai, but she didn’t know what it was like to have sex with anybody, so what did it matter? Being a virgin would simply make it easier than ever for her to stand her ground and say no.
It would help her maintain her distance.
She rose off the bed and changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt. She then sat at the desk and began to review her outline, and she wrote details of her day with DeSai in her journal and notebook; there was much which could be added to her story. She tweaked the outline a bit and then tried to call her cameraman one last time before she shut off the lamp on the desk and got into bed.
Tomorrow would be a busy day.
∞
Cyril DeSai lay in his bed at the White House, his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. Sleep would not come to him this night, of that he was certain. Rasia had been stunning today, and she was warming up to him quite nicely. He couldn’t wait to see her again, and he certainly couldn’t wait to have his hands all over that perfect little body of hers.
He began to think about her curves, the smell of her hair, and the sound of her voice, even when she was being stern. He could not get her off his mind. Not only was she beautiful, she had the intelligence and attitude a queen of his would need. She was a bit harsh, and to him that was a wonderful thing, the icing on the cake.
He would make her his tomorrow, whether she liked it or not. If he could avoid controlling her mind to get the job done he would; he wanted her to be his willingly, but if he had to entice her, he would do that as well. He had no qualms about that whatsoever.
It was torture, but he would not ruin this with his own impatience. He needed to take her before it was time for her to return to Kiev, and so he would. He had inhaled her scent deeply all day and she was as healthy as could be; he sensed no physical defects in her at all. Yes, tomorrow would be perfect for them both, from start to finish.
Finally, DeSai began to doze off, and he allowed sleep to have its way. The sooner he dreamed, the faster the morning would come, and then he could be with Rasia Engres again. Soon, he indeed was dreaming.
∞
DeSai and Engres were walking in an unknown park; he could even hear the buzzing of bees and see the colors of the flowers. He was holding her hand, and she was talking to him, telling him why she had decided to become a journalist. They came to a clearing and he spread a blanket out on the ground; they sat down upon it.
He watched her as she spoke to him. She was telling him that she was able to control people without their knowledge by simply using her words. He was entranced; he certainly believed her, because she had control of him; that was for sure.
Then she said to him, “Let me show you what I mean: I love you, Cyril.”
He felt his smile grow, and warmth spread all over his body. He leaned forward and their lips met. Even in his dream he could taste the sweetness of her lips! Oh, he had never, ever felt this way before!
Suddenly she pulled back from him. “It is my show to run; you are unnecessary,” she said. He was confused. He didn’t know what she was talking about at all.
Suddenly she opened her mouth, and it was full of pointed teeth, and he could see the blood of men dripping from each one. With an inhuman roar she attacked him, and began to eat him alive…
DeSai woke with a shout, and sat up in his bed. His normally cold body was sweating, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He had a nightmare, a horrible nightmare. He had not dreamed in years.
Love did funny things, he said to himself, and he smiled and pushed the dream out of his mind. In no time he was sleeping like a baby.
&nb
sp; Chapter 22
Rasia woke while it was still dark, thinking about Oleks. Where the heck had that kid gone? She got up and put her bathrobe on and grabbed both her key card and the one to his room, then she went out the door and over to his.
She opened his door and went in. Nothing appeared to have been used or touched at all except for his suitcase. She went into the bathroom and noticed he had showered before he had left, but otherwise the room was spotless.
She left and went back to her own room, where she ordered coffee and some fruit through room service.
Rasia then dressed and sat at her desk. She got her laptop out and began to write her piece on Cyril DeSai, Oleks completely out of her mind now. She figured if he was going to be a butt, she would let him, but he certainly didn’t have a job working with her anymore.
∞
DeSai woke the next morning and called Cliffside Wineries and spoke to Shirley Louis. “Good morning, love, how are things going for you now that I’m gone?”
His former assistant overflowed with excitement when she heard the sound of his voice. She missed him, and he found it entertaining.
“Master! Things are good here, but we all wish we could see you more often. This new position of yours is going to be the death of us, I fear,” she replied. He could hear that she was smiling by the sound of her voice, and he was entertained by her childlike eagerness.
He continued. “I’m sorry to hear that, but it is for the good of us all that this change has taken place. I plan to visit the winery with a friend today, and I wanted you to go into my office and make sure it is tidied up properly. I will have a guest with me” he said.
Cyril wanted today to be the final stage in his quest for Rasia. Nothing less than perfection at the winery would do, for he wanted her to see his soul, and the winery was his soul. Shirley knew all that he required, and he had full confidence that everything would be perfect when they arrived.
Shirley tried to dig a bit. “Who will you be bringing? New family?” Usually the woman did not nose into his business at all, and the questions would have typically annoyed him, but he was in such good spirits that he didn’t mind answering her at all.
