I continued to fire questions at Svetlana, as the alcohol was acting like a truth serum, causing her to be surprisingly honest.
"What part does Stacey play in this?" I asked.
"You will see her tomorrow. She has changed since you last saw her. She is Adrian's ideal physical representation of how women should look. Adrian wants Sara and I to aspire to be like her. I think Adrian is going to give Stacey to you when we get back to San Clemente. Well for twelve months, I understand. His plan is to divert your mind from Sara, while you wait for the divorce to be finalized. I feel sorry for you. You are way too nice of a guy to deal with Stacey's bullshit, even if you will get to fuck her as much as you want."
"And," I said hesitantly, "your part Svetlana?"
I could see I had touched a nerve. The hard exterior that Svetlana fought to project, cracked for a split-second, and she looked wistful. Tears welled up in her eyes and it looked like she might break down. I asked her to sit up and she complied without question. I sat up too, carefully crossing my legs so that I could trap the tiny bell, and prevent it from ringing. Then I hugged her.
"You shouldn't be part of this sweet girl," I told her.
Svetlana literally cried on my shoulder as we embraced. She struggled to get her words out through her sobs.
"I never imagined being an old man's plaything. I just wanted someone to love and respect me. They don't need to be my age, just a good guy. Every guy I have ever known has either been like Adrian or Ivan. Either a rich older man, who because of the financial component of the relationship, felt entitled to fuck my ass or come on my face. Or a gangster, who through fear and intimidation, could force me into road-head against my will. Ivan came in my mouth twice in just a few hours, and I barely even know him."
"I am so sorry, Svetlana, I had no idea," I interrupted. "I thought maybe you guys had some history."
"Adrian, that selfish prick, asked me to write down a list of my hard sexual limits when we first met. I admit I didn't have many, but water sports was definitely one of them. Adrian told me that one of his favorite sexual activities was to piss on a young woman. He made me move that from a 'hard limit' to a 'negotiable limit'. Then, as soon as I agreed, he started to negotiate. I settled on a 'boob job' and five thousand dollars, for a once a week golden shower. Adrian, ever the asshole, wanted it on his calendar."
"On his calendar?" I asked with a confused look.
"Part of his regular weekly schedule. So, every Wednesday at noon, I would slink up to his master bathroom, and kneel patiently on the floor of his shower enclosure. Adrian often kept me waiting as he pounded a few beers. Then, somewhen between ten and fifteen minutes later, he would saunter in with a full bladder, and urinate all over me."
"Every week?" I muttered to no-one in particular.
"I hated this weekly debasement," Svetlana continued. "Especially as Adrian kept moving the goalposts. First, he would schedule my hair and makeup team to his house, at eleven o'clock every Wednesday morning. The team would beautify me to Adrian's specifications, taking upwards of an hour to get me picture perfect. Of course, they would ask me what the special occasion was each and every week. No doubt, Adrian had engineered that question."
"What would you tell them the special occasion was, Svetlana?"
"I had to make it up. Every week I would invent a story about which fancy restaurant we were going to lunch at, or which local attraction Adrian was taking me to see. Then, although it took about an hour to get my hair and makeup perfect, Adrian would befoul me in less than sixty seconds."
"Oh Svetlana," I said, lost for words, "can't you ask Adrian to stop this humiliating ritual?"
"He loves it," she replied, "and it has become highly ritualized. Every Wednesday morning I have to go to the liquor store and buy a twelve pack of beer. That in itself is humiliating enough. However, selecting my outfit is also an ordeal. Adrian used to have me model two or three dresses, before selecting which one he wanted to soil. However, one week I lost track of which dresses he had urinated on, and inadvertently wore the same dress twice. He was not happy with my lack of attention to detail and changed the dress selection process."
"Oh fuck," I said, under my breath, knowing this was not going to be good.
"Now," Svetlana said, her lips quivering, as if she was about to cry, "Adrian takes me dress shopping every weekend. I don't really have a budget, in fact I think he get his jollies from defiling me in haute couture outfits. It is humiliating to try on a three thousand dollar dress, knowing that as soon as it is altered and delivered to me, I will be kneeling in his shower enclosure, waiting patiently as he slams his final beer."
She was crying now as she shared this weekly humiliation with me. Svetlana had completely lowered her defenses and was hugging me as she cried. It was very difficult for me to process the fact that Svetlana had two distinct personalities. I listened as she poured her heart out, knowing that the sadistic side of her could surface at any time.
"I just want a normal, respectful, guy. You are a good guy, Chris. I would be very happy to be with a man like you. Would you consider me instead of Stacey? I would treat you well, and take care of all of your sexual needs. Adrian would pay me to be with you, so I wouldn't need any additional financial assistance. I know you would treat me with respect, and consider my needs too."
