Chapter 6
Y es, there is something uncanny, demonic and fascinating in her. - Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
Dimitri
I pressed rewind for the fifth time. Reaching for my glass of vodka, I watched the grey-scale footage of her entering the house. Even though I had only just purchased this place a few weeks ago, the first thing I had done was have a top-of-the-line security system installed.
A man in my line of work couldn’t be too careful.
Pressing the zoom button, I focused in on her face.
She looked so fresh and innocent with her cute bangs and in her pink sweater and plaid skirt.
Her face had only the barest bit of makeup.
Even though the video was grey, I pictured the pale shade of pink on her lips.
Seeing the part where we kissed, I reached down, adjusting my jeans as my cock swelled.
The silky feel of her hair was still on my fingertips as I watched it fall over her shoulders and down her back.
Such a crime to hide such beautiful locks in a tight little bun.
There was no explaining why such a small slip of a girl fascinated me.
She was nothing like the women I was accustomed to bedding.
Russian women were glamorous and stylish, always with the heavy perfume and makeup. Draped in designer clothes and fuck-me heels. They were confident and knew what they wanted from a man. And, more important, how to get it.
A high-end escort embodied the same unapologetic sexual confidence.
It was why I preferred them to the… entanglement…
of a more traditional arrangement. Girlfriends asked inconvenient questions.
They didn’t appreciate when you disappeared out of the country for weeks at a time to some godforsaken war zone to meet with a vicious dictator.
They were a liability. There was no telling when they would suddenly turn on you like a viper and go to the authorities with all the little pieces of information they had learned after months in your bed.
No, it was safer… for all involved… if I kept my fucking as a purely commercial exchange.
An escort knew the score. They also knew that no one would miss them if they suddenly disappeared, so they understood how to keep their mouths shut… unless otherwise dictated.
So why was this woman fascinating me now?
A timid little virgin.
Christ, she’d probably never even given a man a proper blowjob.
With a frustrated growl, I shifted in my seat at the thought of her untutored lips wrapped around my cock as I guided her head down the shaft. Of watching those mesmerizing brown eyes tear up as it hit the back of her throat. At knowing that just like her sweet, tight cunt, I was the first.
I paused the video on an image of her face. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back as I kissed her neck. This was right before I lifted her into my arms and up to my bed.
I might not be sure why she fascinated me, but I was damn sure I wasn’t done with her.
Deep down, I knew it was dangerous to pursue an innocent such as her.
I would bring nothing but misery and darkness to her life.
She would have been better off if she had never crossed my path.
Now it was too late. She was in my sights.
The scent of her was on my skin. I could still taste her sweetness on my tongue. There was a hunger growing inside of me. Despite only just having her, I needed to fuck her again, and again. I craved it, and now I was on the hunt to find her.
Playing the video, I paused and zoomed in on her discarded backpack in the hallway.
It was covered in embroidered patches: Book Nerd, I Read Banned Books, Carpe Librum .
Leaning forward in my seat, I set aside my glass and zoomed in even closer on one particular maroon and gold patch: Loyola University.
She had mentioned she needed money for tuition.
Found you, моя крошка.
* * *
I sat back in the shade, lit a Gurkha Black Dragon cigar… and waited.
I knew the University registrar’s office would be highly unlikely to provide me with the information I required.
People tended to look at a six-foot-two Russian with a shaved head and visible tattoos with a little skepticism and plenty of fear, even if he was wearing a five thousand dollar bespoke Brioni suit.
After they learned I was hunting down a young female student, they’d be far more likely to call the police than give me her name.
No. This would take a little finesse.
After close to an hour, I spotted my perfect target.
An older woman in an oversized cardigan and an official-looking lanyard around her neck exited the office and wandered a few steps around the corner, pulling a smooshed packet of cigarettes from a deep pocket as she walked.
Picking up the textbook I had just purchased in the college store, I approached her.
As she raised the smoke to her lips, I reached out my arm with an already lit lighter.
“May I?” I asked with a wink.
The woman blushed. “Oh, my! I mean, yes! Thank you.” She leaned in and lit her cigarette as she sized me up.
“I was wondering if you might help me.”
“Anything,” she blurted out before casting her eyes down and fussing with the ash end of her cigarette as she stuttered, “I mean, possibly. What do you… need?”
I held up the textbook. “I need to find the owner of this book.”
I then spun a romantic tale of meeting a shy female student on the train and making a connection before we were separated at a crowded stop, but not before I noticed she had left her textbook behind.
I told her I assumed the girl was a graduate student, given her age.
“I might help you but if you don’t know her name that would mean we would have to go through the student IDs, and that could take over an hour,” she responded as she snubbed out her cigarette against the cement building’s wall.
Placing a hand on the wall, I leaned in close. “An hour by your side sounds like a pleasant way to spend an afternoon to me,” I said, making my accent deliberately thick.
The woman clasped the sides of her sweater over her chest. Motioning with her head, she indicated a small side door.
“Wait over there. I’ll sneak you into my office through the back.”
I gave her another wink. “Hurry.”
She tittered again before rushing off.
Less than an hour later, I was staring at the face of my pretty prey.
Emma Katherine Doyle
Graduate Student in Library and Information Science
According to the displayed schedule, she was at this moment on work study at the Cudahy Library.
Reaching for my money clip, I flicked off a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the woman with my thanks before asking for directions to the library.
As I walked away, she called after me, “Wait! You forgot the textbook!”
Without turning around, I said, “Keep it,” before pushing the door open and stepping back into the sunshine.
* * *
“You’re looking for Mouse?”
Someone had directed me to the Reading Room floor information desk. Despite the massive two-story open hall that was currently filled with students occupying the long community tables, there was only the stilted murmur of hushed voices and the occasional ripple of paper.
Standing before me was a young, bottle-dyed blonde who played with her tightly curled hair as she looked at me through a heavy fan of fake eyelashes.
“Mouse?” I repeated with a raised eyebrow.
She waved a manicured hand in the air. “Sorry, that’s just our nickname for Emma.”
I stood there silently, so she continued.
“You know. Because she’s so small and quiet. You barely know she’s there half the time. And with her boring brown hair, she looks just like a plain little mouse.”
My jaw tightened. I didn’t need to hear more to realize how this woman probably treated my Emma.
And she was my Emma now.
I couldn’t believe that until yesterday, this creature would have been just my type. Haughty and self-absorbed, always with the perfect manicure, styled hair, and heavy perfume.
Now I found the image stifling and uninspired.
“Where can I find… Mouse?”
“Oh, she’s not here. She’s in the stacks.”
“The stacks?”
The woman nodded. “Over in the Sullivan Center just a few blocks south. Down in the basement. It’s where the library stores older material. We usually send her there to dig up the materials requested by professors and other students.”
Translation, they usually sent the shy co-worker unlikely to stand up for herself or complain to do the thankless grunt work.
My right hand curled into a fist. The sound of my knuckles cracking echoed around the quiet room.
As I turned to leave, she grabbed onto my sleeve. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”
I glowered at her until she removed her hand. “Quite sure.”
* * *
Dusk had already fallen as I pulled open the heavy glass door to the Sullivan Center.
After a few more inquiries, I finally made my way down a darkened staircase to the basement level.
The low-ceilinged, windowless room seemed to stretch for miles.
Heavy metal book stacks reached from floor to ceiling.
Several were slammed in together, requiring you to turn a big wheel at the end to move them just enough to squeeze between them into a dark narrow aisle.
The only sound was a low, annoying buzz from the overhead strips of fluorescent lighting. The entire room was dim since only every other strip was lit.
I rubbed my jaw as I inhaled a long, slow breath through my nose.
Trying to calm myself down.
It raised the hackles on the back of my neck.
Decades of instinct came to the fore. I didn’t give a fuck that I was in a building in the middle of the campus at a busy, popular university.
I knew a dangerous room when I saw one. No windows.
Deep below ground. Limited lighting. Only a single entry point.
Anyone could trap her down here for an eternity and no one would hear her scream.
The idea she routinely put herself in this level of danger made my blood boil.
First knocking on a strange man’s door, and now this?
It was obvious someone needed to take this woman in hand.
Reaching down to the two buttons on my single-breasted suit, I undid them and slipped out of the jacket, tossing it over a cart filled with books that had been abandoned near the entrance. Twisting off my cufflinks, I put them in my pocket before rolling up my sleeves.
Then I went on the hunt.
Walking down the main aisle, I shifted my head from right to left, peering down the narrow, darkened pathways between the stacks. As I approached the end of the room, I could hear the soft shuffle of papers.
Placing my hands high on either side of a narrow aisle between two stacks, I stared at Emma as she reached for a book on a tall shelf. Completely oblivious to the danger she was now in.
Similar to last night, she was wearing a schoolgirl outfit with a pleated plaid skirt and cute navy blue sweater. This time her beautiful hair was combed back into a loose ponytail that hung down her back. As she stretched up on her toes, the skirt rode up high on her thighs.
“Hello, Emma.”
Startled, she turned to face me. The small stack of books she was holding crashed to the floor.
“Oh, my God!”
My eyebrow rose. “Close, but most people call me Dimitri.”
She fell to her knees and scrambled to pick up the discarded books. Refusing to raise her head, she asked, “How did you… how did you find me?”
I took several steps deeper into the darkness before stopping in front of her. Feet spread, my hands on my hips, I glared down at her kneeling form.
She looked up. Her pretty mouth opened on a shocked gasp as she gazed straight at my swelling cock.
Reaching down, I grasped her silky ponytail and slowly wound the long strands around my fist. I forced her to shuffle forward on her knees till I could feel her hot breath against the thin fabric of my suit trousers.
“You were a naughty girl to run away from me like that last night. I wasn’t finished with you.”