Matchless

Ariane Zutrovna was in foul mood. The raven-haired Slavic beauty poured another finger of bourbon into the glass and knocked it back. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling.

She loved her father - but his constant harping on her getting married was taking a toll on the nerves.

* * *

The powerful Russian mobster had arranged for his oldest daughter to work for Lucio Giambi in the hopes of cementing a relationship between the two of them and between their criminal empires; while the former had not materialized, the latter proceeded apace with considerable rewards for both sides. Although Zutrov had no male heirs, Ariane was more than capable of assuming her father's mantle when the time came - and in part, her tutelage under Giambi was to cement that ascension.

Lucio had treated Ariane with respect and consideration from the start. He recognized her organizational genius and criminal talents and allowed her full reign to learn and enhance her prestige within his organization. No secrets were hidden from her.

Including his sexuality.

It was early in their relationship when Ariane had tried to seduce Lucio. The Russian psychologist had arrived at Giambi's office in a stunningly beautiful blue silk gown which clung to every curve of her voluptuous figure. The young crime lord looked up - stunned - and his mouth dropped open when she entered the room. Zutrovna put her hands on her slim hips.

"You should be ready for ze symphony, Lucio ..." she purred. "At zhe very least, you should be in vhite tie and tails by now..."

She perched herself on his desk which parted the sinfully high slit in the dress and exposed a tanned expanse of thigh.

"Ariane ... you look ... breathtaking ..." She gave a low laugh and trailed her finger down his nose and gave the end a little tap. She traced around his sensuous lips.

"Blagodaryu vas, krasivyĭ." (Thank you, handsome. ed.)

Lucio brows drew together and a small frown creased his rugged face. He took her hand and kissed it. The gangster stood up.

"Come with me."

He brought her to the sofa and gestured her to sit.

"Ariane ... " he switched to flawless Russian. "You are not only an amazingly beautiful woman, but brilliant, devious, cunning and ruthless to boot. There's no one I'd prefer to have by my side..."

She smiled.

"... except Dash. We've been together for over four years ... I'm gay, Ariane. I don't want you to be throwing yourself at me when I can't reciprocate. I respect you far too much for that."

She stared at him in amazement. Then she began to chuckle.

He looked confused. "What's so funny?"

Torrents of laughter bubbled out of her. "And I thought I vas losing my touch ..."

Giambi grinned. "Nope. Not at all. You're an incredible woman, Ariane. And an incredible asset. You don't need to try to seduce me to get something - just ask."

"Well, Lucio ... will you please get dressed? We're going to be late." The crime lord winked at her as he unbuttoned his shirt and sauntered into the adjoining bathroom to get ready. She opened her bag and pulled out a slim cellphone.

"Gregor? This is Ariane Zutrovna. We von't be needing zhose oysters for ze appetizer ..."

* * *

The cellphone trilled. Ariane flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Zdravstvuĭte, moi malenʹkaya pevchaya ptitsa!!" ("Hello, my little bluebird!" ed.) Anton Zutrov's voice boomed in her ear.

"Papa! How are you?"

"I am a happy man, Ariane ... your little sister Anastasia is getting married!"

She sighed. Here we go again ...

Zutrov nattered on. "Vitya Gavrilovich came to me last night to ask for her hand! He's one of my most capable enforcers. Georgian. Did you meet him the last time you came home? I'm sure you did ... tall, well-built ... he had light brown hair, then - he's shaved it off, though - and bright green eyes. Just like a cat! Anya was so happy!"

"That's nice Papa ..." Any minute now ...

"The wedding is going to be in May ... " He paused. "How are things with you and Lucio?"

"Things are fine, Papa. Lucio and I get along very well ..."

"Have you and he ..."

Ariane cut him off. "We don't have that kind of relationship, Papa. Will you stop trying to force me into someone's bed? I don't like it."

"I'm only interested in your welfare, Ari ..." Her father sounded hurt. "You should have a good man to care for you ..."

"I don't need anyone to care for me, Papa! I care for myself!"

"But Ariane ..."

"And the reason they're getting married so quickly is that Anya is pregnant! My dear little sister sleeps with anything that has a pulse and a big dick!" She snapped the phone shut and threw it across the room.

Zutrovna let loose a torrent of invective that would have made a sailor blush. "Damn him!"

* * *

The next morning, Zutrovna entered the office with a dull hangover. Every "click" of her heels made her eyes ache. She entered her office and turned on the computer. Blearily, she saw she had an early meeting with Giaan.

At least that will keep my mind of these proklinat wedding bells...

* * *

Giaan Khamar was not only one of Lucio's most valuable employees, but also one of his closest friends. Giaan's computer supervirus caught the attention of the crime lord and Giambi hired the man on the spot. The young desi looked like a Bollywood leading man and it was due to his programming and hacking skills that the crime lord enjoyed unparalleled access to most (if not all) computers on the planet. Giaan - like many of Lucio's inner circle - had been Trained extensively in all manner of hand-to-hand combat, archery and sword craft; he was also a crack shot. The young indian had also discovered an innate talent for high-explosives work and with Lucio's approval was perfecting his skills. Today, a dark blue thermal shirt was stretched tightly over his well-developed torso and arms; a comfortable pair of snug blue jeans and white soccer shoes completed the outfit. Lightly tinted glasses covered cognac-brown eyes and silver rings glittered in his ears.

Ariane walked into his office. One wall of the large room was dominated by a multitude of flat screen monitors; Lucio's head of intelligence was sitting in a chair, watching data flow quickly across the displays; Zutrovna knew that he was tracking all of them at once. He tapped a few quick commands into the wireless keyboard on his lap; the sound output muted and he spun around to give the Russian a bright white grin. He literally bounced out of his chair - she was always amazed at his energy level this early in the day.

"Good morning, Ariane! I've got some great results on the non-genuine destabilization we initiated in Venezuela! Lucio will be doing backflips!"

Zutrovna smiled at his enthusiasm. Suddenly, she noticed some Latin music playing in the background - terribly familiar Latin music.

"Vhat are you playing, Giaan?"

The desi cocked his head. "Oh, that's an Enrique Iglesias CD ... Javi left it here and I like the mood music ... Ari? What's the matter?"

The music brought back the memories of her time with Constantine and Jaz at the Hollywood Bowl. It had been incredible to be the center of attention for the two amazingly handsome and talented men; she could admit only to herself how the touch of those slightly callused hands across her body had inflamed her soul; but the passion that was on display that night was merely a façade - each of the policemen had a male lover waiting for him. That remembered ache, her sister's wedding and her father's half-witted attempts at matchmaking proved too much to bear; for only the second time in her life, Ariane began to cry.

Giaan rushed to her and wrapped strong arms around the psychologist. She felt the rock-hard muscles of his body against her, she felt his heart beat strongly in his chest. She smelled the faint musk of his cologne; she thought of his powerful body wrapped around his own male lover and began to cry even harder.

"Ariane, what's wrong? Tell me, please!"

She pounded her fists against his slabbed chest. "Vhy do you have to be gay? Vhy does every man I vant have to be gay?" Zutrovna buried her face into the velvet skin of the handsome mobster's neck and sobbed. Hot tears trickled down into his shirt as he stroked her hair and held her tight, rocking her in his arms. After a few moments, the wracking sobs subsided and she began to speak.

* * *

"Hey Cuz!"

"Gi! What's up, bud? How's life in the Mob?"

A short silence. Giaan's voice gained a hard edge. "Would you mind repeating that, Kir? I don't think the relatives in Gharapuri heard you ..."

"Hey ... I'm all by my lonesome on the third floor of an empty building. Pulling wires for Uncle Nick. You know I'd never say anything like that if someone was around."

The desi sighed. "Sorry, Kir. Rough day at the office. I guess the insurance claims haven't gone thru yet?"

It was Kiran's turn to take a deep breath. "Nope, damn it. I've had the jewelry business for five years and never one damn claim. Then with the fire, I'm being investigated up, down, left and right. Like I would destroy my own business. Thanks to Uncle Nick, at least I've got some money coming in. I'm glad Dad and he made me go to trade school and get my license before I decided to go to college. I'm doing all the semi-delicate stuff right now that needs smaller hands - none of the guys here can do that type of work."

"You still seeing Asha?"

A short silence. "I don't want to talk about her."

"I take that as a 'no' ."

"According to her, I wasn't 'aggressive' enough her liking. She wanted someone that was more of a go-getter."

Giaan laughed. "At first I thought you meant something else, Kir. Not 'aggressive?' I'd describe you as 'insatiable.' Hey, you want to stop by my office after work? I want to talk to you about something."

"Something or someone, cuz?"

He rattled off the downtown address. "See you later!"

* * *

In his large, extended family, Giaan emotionally held Kiran Patel as his closest relative - even more so than his own brother. Kiran was his first cousin - born only a few days apart, the two had grown up like twins. They held nothing back from each other; Kiran was the first person he had came out to - it was his cousin who welcomed Javier with open arms while the rest of the family was appalled and ashamed.

Giaan's cousin was a jeweler and goldsmith by profession, but due to an unfortunate accident, had lost his business in a fire. He was now working for Nick Langosta - "Uncle Nick" - a good friend of the family who had built his now-flourishing contracting empire with money borrowed from Kiran's father. The money had been repaid many times over, and Langosta had remained a steadfast friend of the family.

Kiran was as strikingly handsome as Giaan; perhaps even more so than his cousin-turned-gangster. Whereas Giaan had always been the more sweet-tempered of the two, Kiran had possessed a dark, sultry quality even at an early age. That trait grew and strengthened as he matured - an aura of wicked promise surrounded him and he took full advantage of that effect.

* * *
Patel arrived at the address around 5pm. While he was still in his work clothes of jeans, hoodie and t-shirt, the muscular development of his physique was accented, rather than hidden by the clothing. Two handsome security guards looked askance at each other when he signed in at the front desk.

The taller of the two enforcers - his deep green eyes surmounted by a blonde buzzcut - motioned Kiran to follow him. He was brought into a small room. The guard quietly shut the door.

"Up against the wall, sir."

"What?"

Patel was pushed hard against the wall. "Spread your legs, please." Kiran protested, but widened his stance when the guard pulled his jacket aside to reveal a large nickel-plated gun in a jackass rig. He kicked the goldsmith's legs further apart.

The blonde security officer began to perform a pat-down looking for any concealed weapons. The examination was very thorough - a bit too thorough, Kiran thought - as the guard's hands lingered over his nips, his crotch and his ass.

The guard smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'll take you up to Mr. Khamar now."

Yeah, I'm sure you got off on that, didn't you? Kiran thought sourly to himself.

They left the room and the two entered a waiting elevator.

* * *

In a few moments, the men reached the 45th floor and moved through a well-appointed corridor to a large, unmarked door. The guard knocked twice and they entered.

Kiran didn't know where to look first: through the huge windows that provided a panoramic view of the neon-drenched city at his feet or the wall of monitors that had data and images scrolling through them an an incredible rate. He decided to focus on his cousin, standing in the center of the room with a 100-watt grin on his face and arms crossed over his chest. He opened his arms and the two men embraced.

The smile faded as he looked at the guard, still at the door. Khamar's mouth was set in a straight, hard line.

"Jimmy, I don't think my cousin appreciated that little show of force, and neither did I. Don't do that again."

The guard blanched, looking both frightened and chagrined. "I'm sorry, Mr. Khamar. It won't happen a second time."

"I know it won't. Meet me tomorrow morning in the exercise room on the 44th floor. Dress appropriately."

"Yes, sir." The guard swallowed hard as he left the room.

Kiran looked appraisingly at his cousin. "Wow, you've changed, Gi ..."

"What do you mean?" The mobster looked over his shoulder as he shut down the monitors.

"Well, first of all ... you've gotten big. You've put on what? Twenty pounds ..."

"Thirty. All muscle." Giaan grinned. He flexed - arms, shoulders and chest popped into obscene definition through the thin thermal fabric; he kissed a bulging bicep and gave his cousin a wanton look. Kiran snickered and Giaan joined in the chuckling. He motioned his cousin to take a seat at the conference table. Khamar went into the kitchen alcove and returned with plates of fruit and samosas. The mobster put them on the table and sat down. The spicy aroma made Kiran's mouth water.

"Thirty pounds of solid muscle and about two inches taller - plus, you move around like a shadow. And the way you dressed down that guard. There was power in your voice, cuz ... power, command and authority. You're not the underfed little computer geek you were only a few years ago."

"Comes with the territory, Kir. If you haven't guessed, I love my job, as well as my boss. And I want to apologize for Jimmy. Poor kid's boyfriend broke up with him and he's taking it hard. Overcompensating. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time tonight. He really needs a shoulder to cry on at this point."

Kiran smiled. "Still the bartender, huh? Always listening to other people's problems?"

Giaan chuckled. "I can't help it."

The two cousins spoke and laughed together. They caught up with each others lives and the day-to-day goings-on for both of them. After a bit, Kiran heard the door to Giaan's office open and a sultry, accented voice call out.

"Giaan?"

"We're in the kitchen, Ariane - come on in!"

High heels tapped out a staccato beat as the psychologist rounded the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks; an expression of shock rippled across her face as she stared at the goldsmith.

Khamar stood. "Ariane ... this is my cousin, Kiran Patel. Kir, this is Ariane Zutrovna - we work on a lot of projects together..."

His cousin was in no better shape. His mouth had fallen open at the sight of the raven-haired Slavic beauty in front of him; a samosa in his hand dropped onto the table as he sat mute with amazement. The desi gangster tweaked his cousin's ear.

"OW!" He quickly stood up. "It's a ... a pleasure to meet you Ms. Zutrovna..." He continued to stare at her.

"I can see ... zhe family resemblance ..." Ariane stuttered. The man in front of her was breathtaking. He was a hairsbreadth taller than Giaan, and she could see that he was nearly as well-muscled; thick black hair topped straight dark brows and grey-green eyes with long sable lashes looked hungrily at her. His voice was a clear baritone with the faintest clip of an accent. There was a darkly sensual energy to the man which Zutrovna found irresistible.

Giaan smiled. Perfect. This couldn't have happened better. "Kir stopped by to catch up. He's a goldsmith - had a great business until it got burned out ... he's working for a friend of our family until the insurance comes through."

"Vhat type of goldsmithing do you do, Mr. Patel? ..."

"Please call me Kiran. Kir. Jewelry. Commissions for the most part. One-of-a-kind necklaces, rings ... baubles ..." He grinned at her.

My God, that smile is incredible. "Baubles, hmmm? Zhat is very interesting. I vould love to see your ... baubles ... do you haf a vebsite?"

"I have the artwork, but haven't put it together yet..."

The two continued to stare at each other.

Giaan cleared his throat. "Besides baubles, there's something else you two have in common ..."

Kiran and Ariane looked at the head of intelligence. Kir cocked a dark eyebrow.

"... dancing. Kir's an excellent dancer, you know. Ariane is superb too. She helped out the winner at the CLEF awards last month ..."

Ariane blushed. Kiran's face lit up. "I knew you looked familar ... you were great! That tango of yours was sex in motion!"

Kir's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said. Embarrassed, he looked down. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. That was way too forward."

Ariane laughed. Kir felt that sound wrap around his body and caress him. His groin began to twitch and harden. He prayed that she didn't see his cock start to crawl down the leg of his jeans.

"Zhank you, Kir. And a compliment honestly given iz never too forward." She wet her lips.

God, I love the way she says my name. Kir thought. What an amazingly beautiful woman...

Zutrovna arched a delicate eyebrow. "Are you doing anyzhing in particular tomorrow night, Kir? Perhaps you vould like to go out for dinner and dancing?"

* * *

The goldsmith and Ariane arranged a date for the following evening. After gathering some information on the Venezuelan campaign for Lucio, she left. Giaan gave his cousin a wry grin.

"There's a puddle of drool on the table, Kir ..."

Patel looked down. "Good God, Gi! She's incredible!"

Giaan popped a samosa into his mouth. "That she is. She's brilliant, beautiful and absolutely ruthless. I think she's double-jointed also. If she wants something, she gets it. And it looks like she wants you."

Kiran squeezed his crotch and gave his cousin a feral grin. "The feeling's mutual, cuz."

The mobster put up a hand. "Whoa, whoa ... take it easy ... Ariane makes Beria look like a boy scout."

"Beria?"

"Lavrentiy Beria - one of the most bloodthirsty heads of the old USSR's secret police. Her father is one of Russia's most powerful gangsters. Even Vladmir Putin won't dare cross Anton Zutrov."

"Oh ..." He turned pale.

"Take it slow, Kir. You'll both appreciate the reward at the end of the chase. Oh ... by the way, you're gonna need this ..."

Giaan handed his cousin a credit card. "That's a platinum card from one of our offshore banks. It's got no limit. Have a good time!"

* * *

James Treaty looked nervously at his watch. I'm such a damn stupid fuck, he thought. He'd been upset all week after Francis had left him and he took it out on the guy visiting Khamar. How the hell was I supposed to know he was his cousin? He berated himself once again.

The guard's reverie was interrupted by the elevator doors sliding open and Giaan Khamar striding towards him. The desi chief of intelligence was wearing a pair of tight workout shorts and a plain black string top that accented the slabbed musculature of his body. "Hey Jimmy! Early I see ... c'mon ... let's go in."

Giaan motioned the guard to precede him and noted with satisfaction that he was wearing a pair of flipflops instead of socks and sneakers. Good. He was paying attention when he was Trained. 'If you're unsure of the surface, bare feet are best.' Khamar licked his lips as he saw the guard's powerful muscles move beneath his thin cotton t-shirt and firm globes of his ass pull the blue rower shorts tightly against his thighs.

James spoke up. "Mr. Khamar, I'm really sorry about manhandling your cousin the way I ..."

Giaan waved him off. "It's all right, Jimmy. Really. I know you're going through a bad time right now ... how long were you and Francis together?"

The guard looked panic-stricken. Giaan gave him a soothing smile. "Jimmy, relax. It's okay. You're not alone in this organization." He gave him a knowing look.

"If you need to talk to someone ... someone who understands, I'm here. It's his loss, not yours."

He nodded, but Treaty's face was still troubled.

"Do you want him whacked?"

Treaty's eyes widened.

"Just kidding, bud. Look, I've found the best way to get over something like this is to work it out physically." He grinned. "We're going to do some sparring together - quarterstaff good for you?"

"S-sure, Mr. Khamar..."

The desi walked over to a wall stand and pulled off two staves. He threw one to Treaty who deftly caught it in midair.

Giaan swung his weapon around, loosening his wrists. "But we're going to change the rules a little bit. Ever do any strip-sparring?"

The guard shook his head.

Khamar gave his opponent a delighted grin. "Every time you get knocked on your ass, you take off a piece of clothing. First one naked loses." He kicked off his own flipflops and hefted his staff into a offensive position.

"Ready, Jimmy?"

Treaty slipped out of his sandals and tossed them into a corner. He spun his own staff around in a slow circle and stopped when it was diagonally crossing his body. He nodded.

The two men circled, testing each other's reflexes and skills. The staves made contact as each mobster feinted and sought openings in the other's defenses.

Giaan attacked. With a swift flurry, he drove Jimmy back. After a lightning-fast series of parries and thrusts, James found himself on the floor looking up at the darkly handsome mobster.

Khamar chuckled. "Off with the shirt, bud."

Jimmy pulled the shirt over his head and threw it into the corner along with his sandals. Giaan put out a hand and helped the blonde man to his feet. Khamar ran a gentle hand down the slabbed pecs of the guard and tweaked a firm nipple. The guard yelped in surprise.

Khamar winked and grinned. "Mmmmm ... you should think about getting those nips pierced, Jimmy..."

Giann bent over and picked up Treaty's quarterstaff. Grinning, the desi threw it back to the guard. "One down, one ...?"

"Two." James returned the smile.

"... two to go." Khamar attacked again.

* * *

The sparring continued. Jimmy's combination of a backflip and leg sweep cost Giaan his shirt; Khamar's quick jab into the solar plexus had Treaty down to his jockstrap. A pole vault evened the score. Two near-naked men circled each other, their bodies gleaming with sweat.

"Had enough, Jimmy?"

The guard grinned. "No sir, not yet ..."

Giaan threw his staff into the air and dove between his opponent's legs. In that moment of distraction, he caught the staff and pushed the wood hard behind Treaty's knees. The guard toppled. In a flash, Giaan had the other man pinned beneath him. He yanked off the jockstrap. Cognac-brown eyes met emerald green. He gave Treaty a gentle kiss. Khamar ran soft lips around the square jaw of the man under him. Giaan continued to nuzzle his neck.

"I win, bud. Do you give up?"

Jimmy nodded and moaned. Khamar felt the guard's cock grow and twitch beneath him. The desi released Treaty's hands and began to stroke his forehead and temples. Giaan felt the other man's hands slide down his muscular back; Jimmy soon found the mobster's jock and pulled it off as well. His already-rigid tool sprung free and dug hard into the six-pack of the blonde man. The two men continued to kiss and stroke each other.

Giaan got up and returned quickly with a bottle of Gun Oil. He knelt in front of the smiling guard and proceeded to drape Treaty's powerful legs over his broad shoulders. The desi mobster slathered a generous amount of the lube onto his engorged member and slowly penetrated the blonde enforcer beneath him.

"You know, Jimmy, I think you're going to need more of these practice sessions until your performance improves - in my opinion, you need a lot of work ... what do you think?" Khamar grinned as he established a slow and deep rhythm into the enforcer.

"I think so too, sir. Thank you for, ahhhhh-ahhhhh, taking a personal interest ..." The guard stifled a scream and arched his back as Giaan connected with his prostate.

Another deep thrust. "My pleasure, kid. Just like the Army, I always want my guys to be the best they can be ..."

* * *
Ariane hummed happily to herself as she looked at the prone and naked man in front of her. Joao Amaral had been the capo of Lucio's operations in Brazil but having been caught skimming profits, he had been forcibly brought to face Lucio's wrath and Zutrovna's intense chemical interrogation. The unconscious man had been permanently depilated and inked; the tribal tattoos running down his arm accented the well-muscled physique of the traitor. The slavic beauty's gaze traveled across the rippled 8-pack of the man - quite the fitting gift for the police at SMD - Connie and his men well deserve it. She thought to herself.

The dark-haired psychologist swabbed the inside of one elbow and injected the residual poison into Amaral's bloodstream. She checked the bindings on his wrists and ankles and then began to press her thumbs into his eyelids. As the pressure increased, the man began to shift and moan; finally, he yelped and tried to move - only to be stopped by the restraints. Ariane stepped back.

The Brazilian blinked as the room swam into focus. The first thing he saw was the psychologist smiling back at him.

"Hello, Joao."

The events of the past few days flooded back. The flight from Rio De Janeiro; the meeting with Giambi; being immobilized as the Russian beauty pumped chemicals into his body that had him screaming in agony.

Ariane licked delicate lips. "I convinced Lucio that killing such a handsome man as yourself vould be such a waste of flesh ... zhere is so many more uses I haf for you."

He swallowed hard, terror filling his eyes - Ariane's reputation preceded her.

She glided around the naked man, her heels tapping out a beat as she paced the floor; Amaral flinched as she raked sharp, blood-red nails lightly down his exposed flesh. The psychologist stopped at a table that had an item covered in a surgical drape. Joao watched her every move with dread.

"You vill now become the property of a very select group of policemen." Ariane sat down in a chair and crossed her long, shapely legs.

A purring chuckle. "Zhey have found zhe need for such as you ... for ... release of any pent-up ... sexual needs. You vill be - vhat you would say - a 'fuck toy' for zhem."

She pulled the drape aside to show a large hourglass and turned it over. The pale, golden sands began to drift downward into the bottom of the container. "Zhanks to one of our pan-Pacific researchers, I hav injected you vith a residual poison. The only antidote for it is a massive dose of semen - orally or anally - every twelve hours."

Joao looked at her with disbelief and panic in his dark brown eyes. She gestured to the hourglass.

"As the grains drift downvards, your memories - all zhe things that made you YOU - vill disappear and be replaced. By the time zhe sands run out, you vill be Bastian Ferreira - a male whore from Sao Paolo vith a fetish for rubber and an unquenchable thirst to service men in uniform."

"Noooooo!!!" the Brazilian screamed. Ariane pressed a button and a floor-length mirror slid out from the wall.

"As you can see, you already look the part of a male whore - enjoy the rest your transformation, Bastian ... I hav to get ready for a date zis evening ..."

* * *

The phone at security desk rang. Jeffery King picked it up.

"Security ... Yes, yes he's here. Please hold a moment..."

The guard put his hand over the receiver and turned to James. "It's Ariane Zutrovna ... Jimmy, what the fuck did you do to get the attention of that woman? First, Mr. Khamar is beating the shit out of you every single morning - you've come on shift limping for the past week - and now this?"

Jimmy tried not to smile. That excuse for the trysts between himself and the Desi mobster worked wonders. By a stroke of luck, accidentally letting his guard down with Giaan had resulted in the yellowing shiner he was sporting, adding another dollop of authenticity to the coverup. "I'm getting what I deserve, Jeff. I just have to take it like a man. I'm just lucky he didn't decide to kill me."

He took the receiver. "Yes, Ms. Zutrovna?"

"Zhames ..." Her sultry voice purred in his ear. "Vould you please come up to my laboratory? I hav somesing zhat needs your attention."

"Of course, Ms. Zutrovna, I'll be right up." Treaty hung up the phone.

King looked worried. "Good luck, Jimmy - you're gonna need it."

* * *
Treaty arrived at Ariane's suite of offices. He knocked on the door and quietly let himself in. Zutrovna turned from the observation window, watching a hairless, naked man writhing on a couch. James found himself growing painfully hard looking at the spectacle before him.

The Russian smiled at him. "Thank you for coming up so quickly, Zhames ..." She pointed at the naked man on the other side of the glass.

"Zhat vas Lucio's chief of operations in Brazil. Ve caught him with his hand in ze cookie jar; but ... rather zhan kill him, ve decided to make him a sex slave for SMD. I've brainvashed him and he now has a complete set of false memories and a new identity. We've burned off his fingerprints as vell. He believes himself to be a poor, uneducated male whore. Quite ze comedown from a Wharton graduate, yes? I've also administered a residual poison vhich is held at bay by semen intake ... he believes he just can't do visout a thick cock down his throat or up his ass as often as humanly possible."

Treaty's manhood was so rigid he was afraid it would rip through his trousers. Ariane couldn't help but notice the huge bulge snaking down the young enforcer's pants leg. She patted one of the hard, muscled globes of his ass.

"Which brings me to vhy I asked for you ... Giaan felt zhat you could be trusted vith zis assignment ... vould you please deliver him to Captain Michaelides at SMD tomorrow afternoon? Of course, he needs to be ... taken care of until zhat time..."

He blinked and gave her a wide grin. "Of course, Ms. Zutrovna. Thank you and Mr. Khamar for trusting me."

She returned the smile and arched an eyebrow as she looked at his massive crotch. "I can see you're quite vell qualified. Come vith me." She opened the door to the other room and the two entered.

"Bastian??" The naked man looked at her in panic.

"Zis is Zhames - he will care for you until tomorrow when you will start servicing the policemen."

She turned to the enforcer. "You can remove his restraints. You both know vhat he needs, but I do hav to leave now. Enjoy zhe assignment ... and thank you again, Zhames."

Her stilettos clicked on the tiles as the door closed quietly behind her. The captive Brazilian stared at Treaty, a combination of desperation and lust in his eyes as he stared at the huge tool straining the fabric of the enforcer's trousers.

"Por favor, senhor ..." he said in heavily accented English. "... I need fucking bad, real bad..."

James moved to the promethean figure and removed the bindings. The man pulled his legs upwards and back to display a dark rosy pucker. The muscles of his smooth quads and calves popped into obscene definition.

"Please, senhor ... agora, now, now!"

Treaty grinned at the slave as he began to undo his belt. "No problem, buddy..."

* * *
Ariane applied the jasmine perfume behind her ears and at her wrists. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled back at the reflection. Her long dark hair was brushed back and fell softly to her shoulders; the pale blue silk dress flattered her figure and the pear-shaped drop diamond necklace scintillated at the small of her throat.

 
As she was shrugging into the bolero jacket, the ringer at the apartment door chimed. I feel like a schoolgirl... she said to herself. Her Louboutins clicked softly on the parquet floor as she moved to the entranceway and opened it to reveal Kiran standing there.

Again, she marveled at the specimen in front of her. Patel's wavy, raven-black hair gleamed brushed back from his forehead; sharply defined stubble covered cheeks and part of his throat. The goldsmith wore a soft black leather jacket, and beneath that, a pale gray shirt with a red-and-white striped tie. Light black jeans hugged powerful legs. His gray-green eyes widened in surprise when the door opened and his face was split by a bright white smile.

He whistled. "Ariane, you grow more beautiful every time I see you ..."

"I didn't know you spoke Russian, Kir!" It was flawless. HE was flawless.

The goldsmith grinned. "I learned during my apprenticeship at the Hermitage ... languages come easy for me."

"How many do you know?"

"Six. Hindi and English - my two cradle languages - Russian, German, Spanish and Greek. Ummm ... can I come in?"

The two had been spellbound by each other. "Of course!" She gestured him in. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the hard mounds of his ass move in the tight jeans as he strode into her foyer.

"Oops! Almost forgot ..." He dashed back out to the hallway and handed her a bouquet of roses - cream, yellow and salmon.

"Oh, Kir - zhey're lovely! Let me put zhem in water." Zutrovna took a crystal vase from a cabinet and arranged them on the table. As she turned around, Kiran gently pulled her to him. Their eyes met.

He whispered huskily. "They could never be as lovely as you, Ariane ... never." He dropped her into a sinfully low dip and then spun her around.

"Are you ready?" His grin promised an amazing evening.

She stroked around his sensuous lips. "I think so, krasivyĭ ... (handsome ed.) let me get my purse."

* * *
The evening was as good as its promise. And the next. And the next. Days stretched into weeks as Ariane and Kiran spent more and more time with each other. Lucio - as well as those in his top echelon - noticed the changes in Ariane and were glad not only for her, but for himself and his soldiers as well. The Russian was well known for her appetites and temper.

It was during a debrief of the Venezuelan operations that Lucio broached the subject with his chief of intelligence.

"Giaan, I've seen Ariane arm-in-arm with a tall, dark-haired guy. Who is he? Did you check him out?"

The Desi mobster smiled at his boss. "The guy's name is Kiran Patel. He's a jeweler ... and he's my first cousin."

Giambi cocked an eyebrow. Khamar continued. "I'd trust him with my life, Lucio. He's extremely discreet, and he's fallen completely in love with Ariane. I believe the feelings are mutual. I even had him take a CLEAT and let Ariane score it. He got a SIX. Seems Cupid did a drop-kick right into his sternum when they laid eyes on each other."

Lucio threw back his head and laughed. "I'll bet Ariane was beside herself with that - tall, dark, handsome ... and STRAIGHT! What a combination!"

The two men continued to chuckle as Giaan laid out the next steps of the Venezuelan campaign.

* * *

Ariane's phone chimed to indicate an incoming message. She opened the message and smiled.

Wear something white and slinky tonight. K.

* * *
"Gorgeous as ever ..." Kiran smiled as Ariane opened the door.

The contrast was stark in its simplicity. Zutrovna was wearing a white silk sheath with a tempestuously high slit; a deep blue sapphire the size of a robin's egg was fastened around her throat. Kir was wearing a black suit, black shirt and black/grey tie. Dark glasses shadowed his eyes and tight black gloves covered his hands.

"I can say the same." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a gentle kiss. She paused.

"Are you wearing a gun, Kir?"

He pulled aside his jacket to show the matte-black Beretta 92. "As a jeweler, I've always had my concealed carry permit. Now that I'm working again, I need it. Particularly when I have to protect something valuable. Like you."

Kiran softly kissed her neck. A shudder ran through her as he ran a gloved hand down her cheek. "I've a few surprises for you this evening ... C'mon, beautiful."

The two left her apartment arm in arm.

The surprises started with a dance competition. The couple cleared the dance floor several times and won first prize in the latin and waltz competitions. The remembered pain of the CLEF awards faded away as she drank in the tall, handsome man holding her sensuously close.

"Ariane ....?" Kir spoke softly to her as they moved around the floor.

"Mmmm???" She snuggled into his arms.

There was something in his gray-green eyes, an expression that tightened her breath even further and escalated the beat of her heart. An answering emotion swept through her so quickly that she was taken aback by it. "Ariane ... I ... I love you." His brilliant smile illumined the darkened ballroom.

A look of amazement crossed her face, followed by a smile to dazzle his own. Her hand traveled up to wrap itself in his thick black hair; she pulled his head closer to meet her scarlet lips.

* * *

The two reentered Ariane's apartment entwined around each other.

"Close your eyes, my love."

Smoky lids fluttered shut. He withdrew a ring from his pocket. He took her hand and slid the ring on. "You can open your eyes, now - I hope you like it."

She gasped. "Oh, Kir ...." The ring was mirror-bright platinum with a large faceted sapphire in its center; two blue-white diamonds on either side of the main stone threw rainbow scintillations into the air. Delicate intaglio traceries etched all parts of the silvery metal. He held her face gently in his hands.

"Ariane ..." His face set in anxious lines. "... sanam (darling, ed.) ... will you do me the greatest pleasure in the world and consent to be my wife?"

Her head swam. Finally. It's finally happened. And I did it all by myself ... Well, with a little help from Giaan ...

"Yes, Kir - yes ... could there be any other answer?"

* * *

 
Writing a story about Ariane and her lover/potential husband was quite a stretch for me. After all, let's face it readers ... this is not a situation I would ever find myself in! The video above was from watching the duet between Harvey Fierstein and Robin Williams in "Mrs. Doubtfire." Giaan here really is playing the matchmaker!
  

I'm feeling much more possessive of my characters now than ever before. Like Connie, my thoughts turned to Ariane and the "hmmmmm" engine started up. We have a beautiful and diabolic woman in a "boyz club" atmosphere ... how did she get there? How does she feel? I've said before that my characters feel very "real" to me now - and to some extent, I feel responsible for their happiness. I *need* to explore the depths of the people I write about - see what makes them "tick" and make sure they are okay. I'm basically a romantic - and I do like to see happy endings.

The inspiration for Kiran came from a chance encounter in a coffee shop near my house. The place is right off a major highway and a lot of tradesmen stop there for breakfast. Forunately for me, there's never a dearth of handsome, rough-looking men when I stop by (and if you really want to get jealous, my supermarket is two doors away from a firehouse!) I happened to go in one morning and there he was ... the guy was a Bollywood leading man in the flesh! He had on a pair of carpenter jeans that were about two sizes too small and left nothing to the imagination, plus a tight orange t-shirt with the electrical contractor's name on it stretched over a thin blue hoodie. God, I wanted to jump him on the spot! Anyways, a new character was born. It was then a matter to flesh him out.

Originally, Kiran (his name then not known) was this amorphous guy whom I really didn't know what to do with. After the story about Connie, I knew that he would be involved with Ariane. Kiran was developed using an "Artist" mask that I had modified to give it a darker, golden-tan complexion. Connie's story was another turning point for me, and by extension, for my characters. It was there that I could see how Lucio's influence was affecting those around him. First Xander, and now Giaan. Lucio's reach is vast, but extremely subtle -- we see Giaan has basically remodeled himself into a soldieri, as well as assuming control of Giambi's intelligence operations. Even though Giaan has developed a certain ruthlessness (as well as a proclivity to blow things up), he has retained his empathy and compassion in the face of Ariane's misery. Of course, I couldn't have the heir presumptive to the most powerful Russian crime family fall in love with "just" an electrician ... I had to do a little more for her ... and for him. Eventually, Kiran will fall under Lucio's spell as well; just how that will happen, I'm not sure ... yet.

Another influence on these stories has been my reading of John Milton's "Paradise Lost". For those of you unfamilar with this work, it is a long, epic poem written in blank verse. It tells of Satan's rebellion and the Fall of Man. There is something less evil and inherently heroic about Satan in this piece of literature; I can see many similarities between Lucio's organization and the band of rebel angels at work. As a side note, I've been working on the digital double exposure technique I started in the baseball story and it's becoming easier and easier to do; I think the photos with the two cousins speaking together came out quite well.