Lola Smirnova - Twisted

‘Hold your butt cheeks with both your hands, beautiful, and do not let them go…’ His voice sounded calm but extremely demanding. I complied, shifting my feet, trying to get more sureness in my position. ‘Stay still and do not let them go,’ he repeated, with more affection this time, and forcefully penetrated me.

He fucked me hard while pulling back my hair, which he’d tied in his fist, saying over and over, ‘Don’t let your hands go, my angel. Good girl…’ until he came loudly, making me scream too from how he painfully pulled my hair even more…

Then he brought some wet wipes from the bathroom, apologetically explained that the next day he had very early classes and had to get some sleep, paid my fees, and showed me to the door.

That night was not only the best sexual experience I’d ever had, it was the only time I’d ever climaxed with a man inside me. Its not like I don’t know what an orgasm feels like; I’ve been a big fan of masturbation since I was thirteen. I’d been pleasuring myself almost every day, in the shower or in bed before going to sleep. Even zonked out Inna under the same blanket never stopped me. I grew up with two sisters, sharing one room, and I got used to them being a silent and non-participative presence while I was busy flying to another Promised Land.

Hmmm… coming with Ali felt so different. I guess that was what they call hitting the G-spot or a vaginal orgasm.

The sexual desire that built up and filled my body with the power of an avalanche during his foreplay was as frighteningly good as it was surprisingly intense for me too. I could never have suspected that my body was capable of that feeling. But when Ali started shoving me down on his cock, I simply lost it… The inner hit that stormed every inch of my insides dissolved my body, crushing me into countless colourful lights, like a 4 thof July discharged firework.

I close my eyes, trying to recall the sensation again and again… damn, it was good. I need it. Every minute I hope my phone will start ringing, and that it will be Alexandra, whose soft, seductive voice would say, ‘Victoria, do you remember that client from Şişli? He wants you back.’

Oh my! That would be so great…

The phone does ring. It’s Alexandra. ‘Hey Victoria, how are you? I have a job for you. It’s a new client; he wants you to come to Asia side, so start getting ready now. He will be waiting for you in two hours.’

Crap.

Another month disappears. It whisks by in a haze: I’m constantly drowning in booze and drugs, or in a deep sleep to get over the booze and drugs.

I am sitting in our kitchen, having my ‘morning’ coffee and cigarette at 3 p.m. and checking my inbox, ignoring naked Inna, who hurriedly runs in and out of the bathroom. She is gearing up; there is a client waiting for her in an hour’s time.

Hi my Poppy-seed,

How are you? Hope everything is going well with you in Istanbul… I can’t believe we’re apart, and that Natalia and I can’t keep an eye on you.

We are finally in Nimes. We had a good flight and an easy switch to the train in Paris. It is unbelievably fast. We crossed all of France just in three hours!

When we got here, the owner of the club, his name is Paul, met us at the station and took us to the apartment. He looks like a nice chap; although he is ex-military and he doesn’t speak English at all!

So after all, the trip was good, except for the incident at the French embassy in Kiev. Oh my! Those bastards treat people like complete garbage!

You remember our trip to the Luxembourgish embassy in Moscow? That fat bitch who almost killed me, threatening to reject my application because I used the bathroom? Yes, I know it said ‘Staff Only’, but it was the only loo they had. What I was supposed to do?

This time it was quite a young man who submitted our papers for the visa. He just started yelling at Natalia and I because we whispered a few words and smiled at each other while he was busy checking our contracts and certificates. Besides, this place didn’t even have a bathroom, regardless of the fact that we had to spend three hours there…

Anyway, what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger, right?

The club looks very small – we just had a tour with Paul. The apartments we stay in are awesome. It’s a double-storey, spacious, holiday-style flat with an open-plan kitchen.

Okay, Jul, I have to run, still have to unpack, shower and get ready to work. It’s our first night, and I am so scared now… Natalia looks cool as a cucumber though! You know she is an ‘iron lady’ !

Write me about what is happening on your side? How is business?

How is Inna doing?

We miss you very much.

xxx

‘What the fuck is this, Jul? Have you totally sniffed your brains out?’

Inna’s angry yell shakes me up with fright. I look up from the computer screen. Still undressed, now wearing only a tiny black G-string and high heels, she is standing in the middle of the room with a small plastic bag, stuffed with white powder, in her hand.

‘What the fuck are you thinking?’ Her voice gets even louder.

‘What is your problem? Stop shouting! You scared the shit out of me! You get wasted all the time too, with the only difference being that your fuel is liquid! So why don’t you just address some of those questions to yourself?’

‘I don’t care what you do out there, but I don’t want this shit in my place! Don’t you understand that there is a huge difference between being deported because they drag you off the client, and getting yourself thrown into jail because you carry your weekly stock with you?’ She lowers the volume.

I stay silent; I have nothing to say to Inna. I am offended by her tone but she is right.

She sighs and takes few steps closer to the table, still waving the little plastic bag in the air.

‘Look. I know we all like to have some fun while doing the “best job in the world”, but I beg you not to bring this stuff in here anymore, okay? I heard there were quite a few police raids in Laleli and Aksaray yesterday. They storm the hotels, drag the girls out of their beds and throw them into jail. Without even seeing them on a customer! Do you get it, Jul?! The cops have started to play really dirty. You never know… we could even get reported by one of our friendly but fucking curious neighbours and then we will get fucked for real…’

I nod.

‘Okay, I need to go now. I am sorry I shouted at you, but I am really scared of getting into trouble, especially over bullshit stuff like this.’

Inna and I are packing to go home for a couple of days. Our sixty-day tourist visas expire tomorrow and we have to cross the border to get new ones, for another two months.

This time I convince my roommate to take a plane. I can’t even think of locking myself on that boat again. Besides, I can take no gear with me. It’s obviously too dangerous to carry drugs across the border. That means at least 48 hours without a hit or a drag of dope. I have to be creative. I check, and find only two possible routes: through Odessa or Nikolayev.

The latter is closer to Kherson and is cheaper as well – looks like a real catch for us. An hour-and-a-half flight, then another hour on the bus, and we are home.

It’s a charter flight, An-24, and once a week it goes to Istanbul from Nikolayev and back. Since the end of the Soviet era in the late 80s, the air transport system, including most of the government-owned airports, has been neglected, especially in the little towns, to the point of complete dysfunction. For the last few years, this has been the only flight that’s landed at and taken off from Nikolayev International Airport.