Becca had deliberately chosen one of her more conservative business suits that morning. The navy blue skirt and blazer toned down her red hair so that fewer men stole glances at her as she made her morning commute on the train. On most mornings she didn't mind the attention, but after the previous night’s encounter with John, she felt strangely dirty.

That wasn't a feeling to which Rebecca Weiss was accustomed. She was well enough in tune with herself to analyze why she would have such a reaction. Admittedly, taking on the role of a Fem-Dom, a Mistress of discipline wasn't the kind of sex she preferred, but it honestly could have been fun under different circumstances. She had no issue with it. Human sexual desire being so broad and varied, there was nothing about this particular kink that made her feel uncomfortable.

It wasn't that she had humiliated a man for his pleasure, nor the fact that she had been paid to do it that bothered her. No, it was the hypocrisy, the raging disregard for others that John displayed at the Georgetown house that had her feeling used. She never cared who or how anyone was sexually aroused,  but to enjoy sex of this kind while doing his damnedest to legislate away the rights of others do the same had her furious.

She organized her notes with a machine-like efficiency that morning, her red nails flashing like fire as they flew over the keyboard. She was so focused in fact that anyone who didn't know Becca might think she was too lost in her work to notice them slipping through her office door. But Becca was never that unaware of her surroundings. Sensing movement, she guessed without looking who had moved up behind her.

"Good morning, Greg. I was hoping you'd come by."

As her editor at the Times, Greg Hamilton had worked closely enough with her to know something was amiss. He pulled up a chair and waited a moment while she finished recording her thoughts. "Okay, here I am. What has you feeling so wound up today?"

"It was the date I had last night."

Greg sighed. "With Dream Girls? How did I know that was going to be a problem? I told you, you didn't actually need to have sex with anyone."

"No, it’s not the sex. I told you, I'm okay with that. What has me upset was who I was with."

That got Greg’s attention and his instincts as a journalist overcame his ingrained protective male nature. "Well, that sounds intriguing. What have you got?"

"You won’t believe it. I was with John Gordon."

Greg’s dark eyes grew wide and his surprise was evident on his face. "Congressman John Gordon? Mister outdoors and paragon of home and hearth? He is a client of Dream Girls?"

Becca smiled with satisfaction, crossing her legs as she leaned back in her chair. "Yes. And you wouldn't believe the things he wanted me to do. The man can't get it up unless he's being humiliated. Imagine, the man his constituents consider the next coming of John Wayne, and he's unable to function in a normal sexual relationship."

"Holy shit. That won’t go well for him in his district. I am surprised it bothers you so much. You've never judged people by their sexual proclivities."

Becca nodded. "I still don't, Greg, But I do object to him going out of his way to oppose every LGBTQ issue that comes across his desk. He uses the law as a weapon to control the desires of others while at the same time breaking it to revel in his own excess. He touts himself as being pro-life and family issues, which means he votes against abortion any chance he gets. His support of women is for them to be pregnant and at home. He will not support any legislation for equal pay or family leave. If the man lived the lifestyle he so publicly supports, I'd have some respect even if I disagreed, but I despise that kind of hypocrisy."

"Okay, good. I agree, so we have our first real scoop. What kind of proof do you have? Accusations of this kind aren't going to carry enough weight to convince his constituents that he isn't the man he's made himself out to be."

"You are right. Unfortunately, although recording him in the room was possible, the dirty details won’t be in our report. I did it to document what happened, as proof. This paper is too classy to give complete descriptions of his kinks. Those will be spread by the tabloids once the girls start talking. That alone should give the congressman all the humiliation he ever wanted."

"There was also a video camera set up that recorded him entering and leaving the location. Once we blow the ring open, his presence there will be impossible to explain. Add to that his credit card information on file with Dream Girls and the statements of other girls who have serviced him and I don't believe we will have any problems providing corroboration."

Greg's grin flashed. "That will be a hell of a story, Rebecca. once the sacrifices you've made to bust this ring become known, you'll be a shoe-in for a Pulitzer."

Becca shrugged. "Perhaps, but I'm hardly the first reporter, male or female, whoever slept with someone for a story. That detail may never even get out, but I agree, ending a human trafficking ring and bringing down the politicians and others who enabled it will be one for the books."
 
It had been a long day by the time five o'clock rolled around. This story was emotionally draining and she was looking forward to dinner with Matthew. Afterward, she planned on relieving her own pent up desire with a quiet evening in bed with him. Just the thought had her nipples hardening under her blouse. This whole experience, having sex with men for pay and playing the role of a prostitute had been far more profound than she ever expected. The more men she slept with, the more she realized that only one truly mattered. She also found that because of this sex with Matthew was far more satisfying to her than anything was with her clients.

Matthew knew her body. He knew how she needed to be touched, and how she wanted to touch him. It was more than that. With him, she was being made love to. It was amazing. The thought made her laugh. For all the men she had been with since high school, she couldn't remember any with whom she could have made that claim. She had it bad for Matthew, and her heartfelt warm as she realized how easily she made that admission.

"We may have to skip dinner tonight. What I want isn't served at Marcel’s." Becca was about to call Matthew when Anna's burner phone destroyed her mood. Checking the text, she frowned at the brief message appearing on the screen.

Capitol Hilton, 7 o'clock. room 1431. Don't be late.

"Shit." A client meeting her in even such a semi-public venue wouldn't be the kind of man she was there to expose. John, for instance, met her in one of the agency's private clubs, but refusing the appointment would surely damage her reputation just when she was rising to the top. At least she would have time to shower before meeting her client at the hotel.

Stowing the burner back in her handbag, she retrieved her iPhone. "Hey, Matthew. I'm sorry, but I am going to have to cancel our dinner plans for tonight..."

oo0oo

It was late by the time Becca slipped out of her dress and into bed. She thought Matthew wouldn't have come by after she broke their dinner date, but she was happily surprised to find him asleep on his side of her bed.

“Damn, it’s almost 3,” she silently cursed, knowing that he had to be up for court in just a few hours. She was tempted to wake him anyway. Her client had been long on promise but short on delivery and despite keeping her there for hours, succeeded only in getting himself off while leaving her frustrated.

Now, with only the cool sheets and Matthew’s warm skin against hers, that frustration was beginning to boil. “Oh, Matt. Couldn’t you wake up just this once?”

She was tempted to pull the covers down and take him into her mouth. Sucking him until he woke was pure joy to her, but she knew he needed his sleep. Still, her own juices were flowing and the tingling sensitivity of her nipples weren’t going to let her sleep.

She did have toys, just as any sexually awakened woman would. Reaching into her drawer, she retrieved her powerful but tiny, bullet vibe and gave Matthew one last, hopeful gaze before flicking it on.

The buzzing seemed louder in the silence of the night, but Matthew never stirred as she slid its cool metallic end through the valley of her breasts.

“Ohh, yes,” she whispered as the intense tingle began awakening the nerves under her skin. Her nipples were already hard, and they began to throb as she drew the bullet upward, toward her bud. Following the curve of her breast, she circled her nipple over and over until she wanted to writhe under its spell.

Idly fondling her other breast, she is hissed as the electric heat of the vibrator found the tip of her nipple. The effect was overpowering and her back arched toward the toy as if she were feeding her breast to an unseen lover. Her belly clenched and her thighs grew taut.

She remembered the sensation of Matthew’s cock filling her and the strength behind his thrusts. Her pussy was yearning for that intrusion and her hand slipped down her belly, caressing herself as the anticipation grew.

The buzzing of the toy was lost to her by then, merging with a deeper buzz in her head. Simply touching the wetness between her thighs made her gasp, and when she plunged her fingers into her sex, they were eagerly accepted in place of her lover’s thrust.  

Becca stifled a moan, desperately trying to be silent as the orgasmic tide began rising in her. She had no memory of doing it, but the vibrator was slipping into her sex, sliding along her lips and was brushing against her clit. Her thighs flexed and her ass clenched as her moment grew imminent.

Images of Matthew taking off his shirt or his boyish smile flashing on his face flashed in her mind. Pressure built inside her and her body was wound like the strings on a violin. She felt that she would burst and a seismic quaking came over her sending a cascade of tremors through her body.

As hard as she tried, Becca could not remain silent. Her orgasm crested. She whimpered and sighed as her body trembled with the pulse of her climax.

Somehow, Matthew remained oblivious, sleeping peacefully as the orgasm rocked her. Then her heartbeat slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Sleep was coming for her and she spooned behind her man as dreams claimed them.  

oo0oo

Becca slept late that morning and Matthew was gone when she woke. For a long moment, she gazed at the empty half of the bed, wishing he were there before her own responsibilities drove her from the bed.

She had planned a late morning meeting with Natasha, but as her taxi arrived at the train station,  her agency burner phone sounded, letting her know her plans for the day had changed.

Report to the Georgetown Club in an hour. Vlad will meet you there.  

“Oh, shit. That’s not good.”

While Vlad wasn’t particularly high ranking in the organization, his position as muscle for Dimitri made him especially dangerous. Worse, he had already made it obvious that he wanted her, and Becca had heard about some horrible things he had done to girls who refused him. With the reputation of the Russian mob being what it was, she had no doubt those rumors were true.

She was dressed for the office and for a brief moment considered changing into one of the more provocative dresses the agency expected her to wear. Had she been going to any other appointment she would have changed. She sensed doing so this time would only bait Vlad and that was something she wanted to avoid.

Again she made her way to Georgetown by a circuitous route, concerned about anyone following her, just as she made her way everywhere since she started this story. When she got to the townhouse, she was told that Vlad was waiting for her in his office.

“Rebecca, I’ve been hearing good things about you. Our Congressman was a happy boy when he left you. Alas, I am not a happy boy. I am tired of the games you play with me. It’s about time that you gave me some TLC. After all, you owe me from last time.”

Vlad grabbed her by the wrist roughly and brought her behind his desk. Rebecca steeled herself to show no crack in her confidence, but she was unnerved and worried she would have to fellate him and perhaps more. The idea repulsed her. This was an odious man who trafficked in women and controlled them completely. And she had likely not ingratiated herself with him when she laughed at him the last time he had moved on her.

Becca tried to calm him. “Vlad, I told you that it would happen one day, just not today. All good things come to he who waits. Come being the operative word.”

He wasn’t buying the stall any more. “On your knees, bitch. Let’s see how good you are at blow jobs.”

Becca tried not to shudder. She had to play the part if she was going to get the story. It was necessary to placate Vlad and allay any suspicions. Just as he was forcing her head into his crotch Dimitri entered the office.

“What do you think you’re doing, Vlad?” He then uttered a Russian curse word. “Rebecca has nothing to prove to you and her blow jobs are for people who pay dearly, not the likes of you. That is not one of your perks here. Besides, I have not sampled her yet myself.”

“Dasvidaniya, Vlad, “ she said as Dimitri led her out of the office. “I am needed by the real boss here.”

“I apologize for Vlad. He is a pig, but unfortunately necessary to my business. I’ll deal with him later. My apartment is not far from here, Rebecca. I have a car and driver outside for us. There is vodka in the freezer and some Beluga caviar that a friend brought me from Russia. We can share them with some blini as we get to know each other better. Much better.”

There was no doubt as to what he had in mind, but Becca felt relief wash over her. At least Dimitri had a semblance of being civilized. She knew that he was capable of violence and more, but as long as she was convincing and could please him, she told herself that she would be fine.

The apartment building was one of the most prestigious ones in the city, designed by a famous architect. It was a sleek combination of glass and steel, the windows reflecting the sun with a pink gold sheen. They entered a lobby opulent with marble and genuine Le Corbusier black leather couches. The concierge buzzed them in with a nod of his head upon seeing Dimitri and tried not to notice the gorgeous redhead who accompanied him.

The express elevator took them to the penthouse floor and Dimitri let them into the apartment. Rebecca was quite surprised when she looked around. Unlike the gauche and overdone taste of new money oligarchs that she expected, this was simple and elegant, unexpectedly modern with white walls and white soft furniture. The colour came from the art she noticed on the walls and she thought she saw an original work by de Kooning, no doubt worth millions. The reporter in her surmised it was a great way to launder money. Just be one of those anonymous telephone bidders at one of the great art auctions. Becca then stopped herself from musing, thinking “Get a hold of yourself. Play your part. He seems to be cultivating a certain image, perhaps what he perceives as class to differentiate himself from the average mobster. Maybe you can play on that to survive this encounter.”

“Sit, Rebecca, sit and make yourself comfortable,” Dimitri bade her. “I will get us something to eat and drink as I promised you.”

“Comfortable!” Becca thought, “Not bloody likely. But I had better fake it really well.”

Becca stood before the plate-glass wall for a time, looking out upon the city. Dimitri’s apartment had every luxury imaginable, but nothing about it was making her comfortable.

“That view is why I had to have this apartment, Rebecca. It is in worthy of a tsar, don’t you think?”

As Becca turned, Dimitri handed her a tumbler of vodka. “Is that how you see yourself, Dimitri? As a king?”

“Not what you expected? When I was young, many of the old, Soviet ideals were still respected in Moscow. In those days, anyone who made such a claim risked finding themselves floating in the Moskva river. Today, with your Western capitalism having taken root, a man with steel in his gut and a brain in his head is not afraid to acquire wealth and power.”

Dimitri walked toward the couch, grandly gesturing toward his collection. “What you see here is but a portion of my wealth. I have no shame in being rich. I’ve seen the poor and I will tell you there is no honor in being destitute. Rich is always better. How’s that for a capitalist thought?”

Becca‘s smile hid her contempt. “It is impressive, Dimitri. Almost as impressive as you.” Sipping her drink, she moved closer, keenly aware of the bait she was setting for him.

“And what about Vlad?” she added. “He isn’t like you at all. Why do you tolerate him?”

“Vlad is Ukrainian and a brute. We Russians are aware of their uses but to expect him to be a gentleman? Nyet. He is more suited to those unfortunate girls we rescue from around the world and bring here. He takes advantage of their gratitude in a way that western woman would neither understand nor permit.”

“That’s one way to put it, Dimitri. I thought he was about to force himself on me.”

Dimitri scowled and drained bis glass. “Yes. It appears so. He’s been warned, but there are times he forgets himself. Have no fear though. You are under my protection now and he knows it. Men like him lack the class to deserve a woman such as yourself.”

Becca knew exactly what he expected for his protection and wondered briefly how many women had been coerced into accepting it and exactly what that protection meant. Those were thoughts for another time, so she allowed her mien to soften into a playful acceptance.

Becca moved closer, crossing that invisible boundary of his personal space. “And you do?” This was the moment she had been waiting for. A chance to get into the inner circle and she used every bit of her allure to reel him in.

Dimitri had no chance to escape against her charms. Inexorably, he slipped into her trap. “Oh, I believe so. Most certainly.” Drawing her to him, he kissed her with the sure belief she would kiss him back.

Becca did, responding to him just as he desired. She molded herself to him, surrendering without hesitation to his advance. She expected the rough, uncaring attention of a brute, and so was surprised by his skill and restraint.

Oh, he was confident and dominant, but his hold on her was remarkably gentle. He kissed her as if he knew she wanted to be his, and made no effort to push her beyond that she was willing to give.

Becca had no desire for this man, and certainly no respect, but none of that mattered. She focused instead on his raw masculinity, and her body reacted as it always had. Her arousal flared and she embraced its heat, willing to live in this moment if doing so brought her closer to the day she could bring him down.

All his talk of those unfortunate girls being grateful for his rescue infuriated her, but nowhere in her response was that revulsion found. Instead, she returned his desire with a passion that was as real in its way as his for her.

Dimitri was a large, barrel-chested man and even as tall as she was she felt small in his arms. Over the years he had had many beautiful and skilled women in his power and now she felt his experience in every kiss. He was devouring her breath, stealing it away with a force that might overcome a woman of lesser strength.

Becca was not easily fooled, but she kept that detachment apart from her pleasure. As a woman, she reveled in the physicality of it all but her mind never wavered from the role she was playing. When he led her to his room, she followed, hand on his.

As she entered his master suite, Becca was considering her decision not to change out of her business suit before meeting Vlad. At the time, she meant to dissuade Vlad, but now her suit felt inappropriate for the woman Dimitri thought her to be. Fortunately, Becca had learned long before that sexually attracting a man had far less to do with what she wore than how she wore it.

She was slipping more deeply into her role by the moment. No longer the journalist, she sauntered naturally across the room, acting every bit the whore he thought her to be. It was a dangerous lie. She had to sell herself as a woman willing to be used or her life would be at risk.

When Dimitri turned, gone was any semblance of a woman dressed for business. Becca had unbuttoned her top, opening it just enough that the swell of her breast became visible underneath. She waited for several heartbeats as he took in the subtle changes in her appearance. Once his gaze was traveling over her body, she reached up behind her head and let her red hair fall in a cascading wave over her shoulders.

Becca warmed to him, but reminded herself to be careful and to keep hold of herself. It was Dimitri’s sophistication that made him more dangerous. Vlad's thuggery was easier to anticipate and deal with. Dimitri was capable of the same, but in a much more cool and detached way. The result would be the same. Dead is dead.

Determined both to maintain her illusion as well as to enjoy it, Becca unbuttoned her blouse, toying with each until it billowed open. Her lips formed a teasing smile as his eyes moved over her. Her brassiere, only partially hidden by her blouse, cupped her breasts, exposing her cleavage. Soon her skirt and blouse were on the bed, and she knelt at his feet with nothing but her bra and panties on.

“May I?” She inquired as her fingers gently traced the shape of his cock through his slacks.

“Of course. Take your time, Rebecca. We have all night.”

He was already hard when she drew his zipper down. Following his instruction, she moved slowly as she drew him out. Her belly clenched as she did, and she licked her lips as his erection rose out of his pants.

Monster or not, Becca’s excitement was growing. His cock was satisfyingly thick and she stroked it several times, simply enjoying the feel of him in her hand. She was eager to taste him, but held off, removing her bra before she granted him that gift.

Dimitri was clearly enchanted and he took the moment to finish undressing himself. By the time  Becca had massaged the smoothness of her pale mounds, he was naked and ready for her touch.

This was a scene that Becca instantly knew she would never forget. Hidden under his tailored Italian suit was a rock hard body that was covered in mosaic of tattoos. As beautiful as they were, she was well aware that each one told a story of some crime or dirty deal that he had committed in the past. His life was written in those pictures. Part of her was glad she didn’t know what they meant.

When seen all at once they looked both exotic and dangerous. It was fascinating. Becca had never been with such a man and her sex began to heat on seeing this aesthetic expression of who he was, such a contradiction to the life it represented.  When she opened her mouth and slipped her lips over his glans, she fully understood that she was profoundly aroused by him.

Dimitri tensed like a coiled spring as she sucked his cock. She sensed him shifting his balance as her mouth descended on him and felt him quiver each time she pulled back along his length. It was incredible to her. This man was as powerful as any she had ever known, yet like any other man he became her plaything the moment her lips wrapped around his cock.

Cupping his balls, she squeezed them hard enough to make him gasp. Dimitri growled, sucking in his breath as her nails dig into his tender sack.

“Da, Rebecca. That’s what I want. A woman who isn’t afraid of me. Now, let’s see just how brave a whore you can be.”

Becca was surprised at how easily she had gotten under his skin. From the beginning, she had intended to strip away his gentlemanly facade and expose his feral masculine instincts. She wanted him to use all his strength and stamina in mad lust for her until he had nothing left to give.

It was a dangerous gambit and any of a dozen things could go wrong. Becca had no idea if he might enjoy hurting her, but that was a necessary risk.

Squeezing his ball sack hard had jump-started his rut. When he grasped her shoulders, Becca surrendered to him, swallowing hard as his turgid head forced its way into her throat. Hot moisture filled her mouth, lubricating his shaft as he fucked her throat. She grasped his hips and she struggled, gaining control over his fevered thrusts until it was she who was setting the pace.

Dimitri seemed oblivious to this. All he felt was his cock bathing itself in her wetness. She didn’t care if he came. He was hers by then and whether he blew his load in her mouth or saved it for her sex, she was going to have it. She was surprised when he stopped and pulled away.

“Enough!” He growled “Get up here. I need to be inside you.”

Taking his hand, she rose and accepted his urgent kiss as he devoured her mouth. His need was burning white hot and her own flared as she felt his fire. He hooked his thumbs on her panties and pulled them down her thighs. He then spun her around to push her face first into the bed.

“Are you going to fuck me from behind, Dimitri? I love being taken like that.”

“I’m sure you do. You whores always stay in control with the men who pay you, but when you feel what a real man has to offer…” Dimitri brought his cock to her cunt and thrust hard, spearing her in one, firm plunge.

“Ah, shit, that’s so good. Damn you feel so big.” Becca knew that there was truth in this and she gasped as he began to slam into her. Her thighs spread wide, allowing him to stand behind her as he drilled away at her ass.

His cock stretched her wide, massaging her inner walls with shocking skill. When he pulled her red hair and yanked her head up, her orgasm began to build.

Being dominated so thoroughly was new to Becca. With most men, her confidence and skill always gave her the upper hand. Even with Matthew, the one man who might have engendered it, she had never been shown this kind of raw desire.

With her fingers digging into the sheets and her hips aching at the bite of his grip, Becca felt her body catching fire. Her vision was failing as she surrendered to the intensity. Her whole world melted into orgasmic flashes of pleasure.

It took a moment before she realized he had stopped: Her sex was pulsing with satisfaction and her thighs were slick with juice. She felt him moving behind her but was too dazed to wonder why. It wasn’t until she felt the cooling moisture of a viscous line flowing over her ass that she woke from her thrall.

“Dimitri? What are you doing?”

“I’m enjoying all of you, Rebecca. Do you know why I enjoy having sex with my whores?  Because whores never say nyet.”

Becca’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his head, hot and hard, sliding between her cheeks. Her mind raced as she understood what he was about to do. Anal sex didn’t frighten her, but letting a man like him do it caused her to balk for a moment. However, she knew he was right. Whores never say no. If she did, his reaction would be unpredictable, possibly violent. He would not be pleased. Gritting her teeth, she concentrated on relaxing as he began to press into her ass.  

“Oh, fuck, Dimitri, go slow for me. I wasn’t ready for you yet.” His response was too guttural for her to grasp, but the burning heat in her ass eased as he slowed. His head had always felt thick and now, it seemed positively huge. Dimitri drew back ever so slightly, only to ease in again, sending a fresh sting searing into her.

Becca had felt this before and had no fear of the pain. That heat would quickly pass and then the deep massage of his cock would ease the pain. Becca held her breath, allowing him to let his pace build until he was sliding easily through her ring.

There are a vast number of nerves in the anus and each one was being stimulated by his cock. The movement in and out of her filled her with warmth and his weight pressing down on her made her feel oddly safe.

Soon he was giving all of himself to her and she pushed back each time he thrust. They found a rhythm, he, driving hard into her while she moved beneath him. She felt his control slipping and as their rhythm peaked. She knew his moment was here. He stiffened, driving his cock into her hard as his cum spewed filling her copiously.

Collapsing on the bed, Becca curled up in his arms content and sore, waiting for him to fall asleep. She took this time to look around the room and allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dimitri’s breathing became deeper and his heartbeat slowed from the previous exertion. It was when Becca heard a slight snore that she knew he was deeply asleep. This was her chance to look around for the notebook that was reputed to be the real depository of the most important information about his business, his contacts and clientele, his money laundering, and the secrets he kept. He could use some of this kompromat (damaging information) to generate negative publicity about a public figure or for blackmail or extortion of a powerful one. Politicians would be especially vulnerable but his clientele included businessmen, professionals and others who were highly placed. Finding the notebook would reveal a treasure trove for Becca’s expose article.

Becca slipped from his arms and the bed. She moved soundlessly in bare feet on the plush carpet first to Dimitri’s clothes. She checked the pockets. No notebook. Then the drawers of the dresser and the armoire in the room. Nothing. She left the bedroom saving checking the bedside tables for last, not wanting to take the chance of waking him up unless absolutely necessary. She went to his home office. Copying the information on his computer would take too long and she needed to know how to do it efficiently if she was to get all of its contents.  She did check his desk with no result. Then she had an idea.

Becca went to the kitchen and opened the freezer. Behind a couple of bottles of premium Russian vodka there was a Ziploc bag with a notebook in it. She grabbed it and went to the living room. As quickly as she could she found her phone and began taking pictures of the contents double page by double page. She was reading quickly with her broken university Russian as she did so. Even as a seasoned journalist, she was shocked by the names she saw written in English, each listed with favourite girls, kinks and weaknesses and the levers of power that they wielded. This was dynamite. The camera in her phone made short work of the notebook. She carefully returned the notebook in its bag to its place behind the vodka hoping to leave no clue that it had been touched.

She found her clothes and dressed quickly. She left Dimitri a note in English saying that she was reluctant to wake him but had to leave as she had a casting call early in the morning (remembering her cover as an aspiring actress). She said that she enjoyed being with him and hoped she had pleased him. She let herself out silently and took that express elevator to the lobby. She hailed a cab outside the building and made her escape. It was only when she was finally in the cab that the adrenalin subsided and she breathed more normally. She would wait until she got home to read the contents of the notebook thoroughly, after having a large mug of strong coffee. She needed her wits to understand all of the information and what to do with it as well as someone whose Russian was better than hers to give her a more accurate and complete translation.

Many lives would never be the same once this story was published. Dimitri’s reach went to the highest levels of American society and included people never suspected of any such weaknesses or blots on their reputations. One could only wonder what price they had already paid to the Russians for their dalliances, what information had been shared, what secrets had been divulged, what decisions suborned. It was damning evidence of disloyalty and immorality, fettered decision-making, and perhaps even treason. Becca shook her head partly in shock and partly in disbelief. But the notes were more than believable. They outlined information that only those individuals could know. Now it was even more important to take Dimitri and his organization down. Unfortunately, the women would be viewed by some as collateral damage. Becca resolved that she would not let that happen.

Authors Note:

I wish to thank my talented cowriter, Principessa, for her valuable work, critical input and incredible patience with me while we write this story. It is with pride that we share this work.