Герман Садулаев - The Maya Pill

Historians working on contract for the company left unmentioned the fact that the Vergistus branch of the family on the continent had fallen into decline as early as the twelfth century. The last daughter, heiress to the blood of the noble plunderers, was taken to wife by a fugitive merchant from Khazaria entirely without dowry, like the lowest peasant. For a sack of silver, which made its way into the pocket of the suzerain, the merchant acquired his wife’s family name and established himself in Europe as a nobleman. Soon thereafter his wife died from a sudden infectious illness, and the newly ennobled merchant married a woman of his own tribe, and in the veins of their offspring there flowed not a single drop of English blood.

In Russian translation, Triple F could very well come across as analogous to “Triple H,” conveying both a Russian expletive and the names the company’s founding fathers: Hengist, Horsa, and Hazars.

The management of Triple F, as in many other corporations, had long understood that it was not at all necessary to maintain a headquarters in the capital city with its crowding and high real-estate prices. No, you didn’t need to be in a capital in order to stay connected to businesses the world over. Doesn’t the Internet work just as well out in the country, not to mention the telephone? Triple F chose the sleepy little town of Drachten as the site for their central office, 140 kilometers northeast of Amsterdam.

In Drachten, medieval brick buildings stand side by side with modern glass and concrete structures, and the population (not counting immigrant workers) is under 50,000. In the early 2000s Drachten became world famous when the town government took down all its traffic signals and street signs. From then on, the town’s 20,000 automobiles, along with bicycles and pedestrian traffic, were regulated exclusively by mutual courtesy and deference. And from that time on there hasn’t been a single traffic jam or serious accident with human casualties.

Peter Nils, himself a pureblood Frieslander with an MBA, easily got a job in the central office of Triple F and had been with the same employer for several years.

That morning, which was utterly ordinary in all respects, he went into the kitchen, kissed his wife—a somewhat angular and dry lady, who was getting ready to leave for her own job at a telecommunications company—tousled his pudgy son’s hair as the boy headed out the door on his way to school, and, after a breakfast of vitamin-enriched corn flakes with skim milk, backed his blue Toyota out of the garage and headed for the office.

The trip along the anarchical streets took no more than fifteen minutes, even factoring in the long interval that Peter spent waiting as a little old lady with a white cane crossed the roadway. Nils left his car in the convenient parking lot and proceeded up to the company’s floor, where he entered his tiny but private cubicle, which was partitioned off by a translucent, soundproof glass wall from the rest of the office, where the lower-level employees worked.

Nils quickly sorted through his e-mail and sent a few notes to each of the company’s business partners, including a short message to Maximus, his Russian colleague at Cold Plus. Nils indulged in a moment’s silence, recalling his adventures in St. Petersburg. He’d probably told Maximus a little too much about the pills. But no matter, that was better than letting him know the real truth about what Triple F was selling.

Nils went through his e-mail, signed some shipping documents and held a five-minute briefing for his staff. Having dispensed with his regular morning routine, Peter closed his office door, sank down on the chair in front of his monitor and entered a web address into his browser: www.i-xxx.com.

The site’s welcome page was plastered with photographs of half-naked models and invitations to enter virtual sex video chat rooms. Uninhibited Latin American, Nigerian, Thai, even Aleut girls were available to talk to you in real time. Nils was a member; he typed in his password and clicked on the banner for the “Russian Girls” room.

An auburn-haired girl with a clipped-on hair extension, wearing a skimpy slip, sat on a sofa in front of her computer, fanning herself with an out-of-date issue of Liza magazine. She looked bored.

Noticing that a member had logged on, she perked up, bared a mouthful of even, white teeth, and waved seductively into her webcam. There was picture, but no sound. Smiling, she began typing her own brand of broken English into the chat box:

Hi cowboy! What’s your name?

Peter typed in his answer: My name is Peter. I’m from the Netherlands. Let’s talk!

Sure Peter! With all my pleasure… What do you want me… to tell about ?

The girl cast an anxious glance at the clock displayed in the lower right corner of her screen. Every hour of commercial chat cost the “member” fifty euros. The girls got forty percent of the final tally. But her contract specified that unless she can keep the client online for at least ten minutes, she gets nothing.

My name is Tanya. I’m 19 years old. And I like to talk with guys about desires… Also I like to show my body…

To keep Peter’s attention, the girl somewhat abruptly lowered the left strap of her slip, exposing half of her breast.

That’s nice. U R beautiful .

Nils scooted his chair back slightly, loosened his belt and slipped his hand through his fly.

I don’t have much experience in love and sex. Indeed, I’m just a little girl, you see. Do you like foolish little girls like me ?

The girl lowered the other strap and exposed the upper part of her breasts down to the edge of her bra, which, modest girl that she was, she evidently never removed, even in the tanning booth.

Yeah, baby, go on!

I think that you are very handsome. Oh, let me imagine, you are a big man with great gadget. And you know how to do all these nasty things with girls .

Yessss, I do, baby .

Can you teach me? Please, say to me, how can I give pleasure to you?

The model hitched up her slip, and the edge of her white panties peeked out from underneath.

Tell me about your country .

Sorry?

Tell me about Russia, baby .

Oh… Russia, yes…

The girl hesitated. She hadn’t encountered this particular perversion before. She was usually asked to spread her legs and expose herself, to get down on all fours and poke various objects into her various orifices, but no one had ever asked her to talk about Russia. But she quickly collected herself, and began searching her memory for tidbits from her school textbooks or training manuals for tour guides and translators. Yes, she had taken English in night school when she’d been planning a career as a tour guide. Her original idea had been to take foreigners on excursions around the Golden Ring… But offering tours around her own body had turned out to be far more profitable.

Russia is a great country. We have many forests, lakes, rivers… Yeah, deep rivers. And fields with smooth grass, very smooth, just like my skin…

Tanya started to improvise, running her hand up and down her breasts as she spoke. Peter’s grip on his cock tightened and he began to stroke it slowly.

And what about people?

People are nice and friendly. But you are better, I’m sure!

The girl was afraid he’d get jealous of the male Russian population.

Actually, there are not so many people in our country. Most part of territory is a virgin land .

Virgin?

Virgin land. Ever waiting for strong man like you .