Apartment 8 Has a Golden Challenge

"This is my bitch," Carie chimed in, grinning. She reached up and patted Vasily on the shoulder. She was giggling, but there was an underlying territorial tone in her voice.

"Lucky girl." The bartender cocked her brow towards her then stole one more admiring glance towards Vasily before strolling away, accentuating her butt with a spicy wiggle.

Carie ignored the woman and grinned at Vasily then started to write.

Vasily frowned slightly, scratching the scruff on his chin as he watched her. He realized too late that he probably should have told her to decide what his punishment would be before she started imbibing. While he was often impressed by how her petite frame managed to handle a good quantity of liquor -apart from her immediate "Asian glow"- Carie always came up with her more wild ideas after tanking up a bit. It was enough to put a wrinkle of concern in his mind.

Carie wrote quickly. She knew way before her first beer what would be his penalty for losing their bet. She pushed the paper over to him on the bar counter.

Vasily leaned on the rail, tilting his aside to look at what she had written. He was hesitant to actually pick it up. He read aloud, "'Fawns Over Foxes. Wednesday night. 7:00 p.m.'"

"You be there at 7:00. I'll be there at 8:00," Carie noted.

Vasily shook his head, not understanding. "What is Fawns Over Foxes?" he asked.

Carie squinted at him and smiled. "You're a computer engineer," she said, "I'm sure you can triangulate it or whatever. Just be there."

A little engine sound gurgled in Vasily's throat.

She picked up the post-it note from the bar counter and held it up. "Remember," she said, "we have a contract... bitch."

******

When Vasily was a young teenager, he and his friends used to hang out at an old abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. Forget Disneyland, what could be more fun than running around in a cavernous, feral cat infested, building of crumbling brick and iron, smashing windows, leaping off rusted hunks of machinery, and banging angrily on pipes and chains?

Well, Vasily's friends loved causing a commotion more than he did, actually. While they scrambled around amongst the factory ruins, hooting and hollering like a bunch of Lost Boys, he prefered to focus and find a rhythm drumming on the various pipes and sheets of metal scattered around. It didn't take him too long to shut out the noise and discord created by his peers. He just concentrated, listened to the rhythm and music he heard between the cacophony, and lost himself in his own calm, his own pleasure.

Many years later, he found himself doused in chaos once more, at the center of it, in fact. The audience at Fawns Over Foxes erupted the moment he stepped onto the stage. A wall of white light slammed him in the face, while the women's whistles, screeches and cat calls nearly blew him over. He clutched his prop bat a little tighter, grinding his teeth slightly as he fought through this momentary sense of loss he was feeling. His brain had to reboot.

Behind the main scrum of women crammed on the floor around the runway, on the upper tier of the club by the bar, Carie sat on a stool facing the stage. She mindlessly chewed on the straw sticking up from her tall glass of Long Island Iced tea as she watched the action, or lack thereof. Vasily hadn't moved from the launch pad.

At first when she had sat down twenty minutes ago, she sported an immovable smile and the giddiness of anticipation made her feel like she had just won a trip to Bermuda. She was ready to see Vasily "shake it" and put on a show. Now, with the seconds ticking by since the curtain pulled back and he stood there on stage, showcasing his peculiar talent of impersonating a rock at the most inopportune time, she started to worry.

"Move," she mumbled, thinking the word might find its way through the swath of lustful humanity surrounding the stage. She continued to grind the plastic straw between her molars.

Vasily was still stuck.

"Please move, Vasily," she urged again. She bounced her leg over her bended knee anxiously. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea.

Truthfully, the crowd seemed so hot for him right now that it bought him a bit of time. Vasily could have pulled out a newspaper and started reading and that still would have managed to get a few of the patrons wet. However, at his periphery, he could see Johnny standing just off stage looking like he was getting a bit antsy and thinking to give him, his bat, and his "package" the hook.

"Move, you idiot!" Carie shouted over the clamor, standing up from her stool.

Suddenly, Vasily stepped his left foot forward.

The audience noticeably and unexpectedly quieted a few notches.

Planting the ball of his foot on the floor, he gyrated his hips a little... just a little bit.

Explosions. The women screamed and waved their hands in the air, whistling, clapping.

The applause and cheers swept around Vasily, through him, behind him, and pulled him forward. He put his right foot out and wiggled his butt. Screams. He put his left foot out again and grinded his crotch. More screams. The energy of the club was through the roof.

Holy shit, Vasily thought.

"Holy shit!" Carie mumbled to herself, her face blank.

The noise was like breaking glass and rattling chains. The crowd was just a flurry blur of hyper, over-stimulated and intoxicated women. Vasily moved through the pandemonium, focusing on the steady lights and listening to the music. He found his rhythm, his calm, his pleasure.

He swung his bat over his head like he was warming up for a plate appearance, putting some extra "oomph" in the sway of his hips. That went over like gangbusters, especially since the buttons on his stretched jersey started popping open as he did so. He knelt down and leaned back towards a group of women. They "helped" him by stripping his shirt off his oiled-up body like wax paper from a stick of butter. He barely managed to stand upright again before they were able to claw him into their quagmire of lustful exuberance.

Vasily crunched his abs and flexed his arms, showing off his tattoos and highlighting every line etched deeply amongst his muscular frame. He planted the bat at his crotch, jutting it out into the women's faces and then hopped around the catwalk as if he were busting a bronco.

An appreciative murmur of "Oh my God" bristled through the crowd.

The velcro on his pants was barely hanging on at this point and Vasily decided to give the people what they wanted. With a deft tug of his fist, he yanked them off and flung them into the crowd, right into the flush face of a red headed patron. She didn't seem to mind and firmly shoved away a couple of other ladies who rudely grabbed at the souvenir.

With his cock barely strapped in behind the limited confines of a black, mini-hammock, Vasily pounded his crotch towards the women as if he were trying to drive a nail into a wall. Fingertips and nails were just barely within reach, brushing at his glazed pink flesh. Still he managed to find a path through them to strut and swivel.

It was getting easier as the seconds passed, as he got a better understanding of the women surrounding him. He was used to dealing with clients everyday for work. He knew that, sometimes, he had to concede to their needs.

And sometimes it was Vasily who decided what was best for them and he made them accept it.

He locked the bat behind his neck and cranked his abs like a pornstar. The ladies swooned. This was best for them. Vasily made them take it.

Carie stood dumbfounded by the bar, almost alone as everyone else had rushed the stage. She grimaced, her chin drifting off to the side, chewing on the edge of her bottom lip. Seeing him up there glistening, grinding and firing his pelvis like Elvis on steroids, just totally going for it, sent a surge of conflicting thoughts and feelings through in her stunned skull. He was hot and sexy. Like every other woman in the room, her loins were stirring. She shimmied and pulled at the hem of her short, black, evening dress pretending to tug it down, when really she was just shifting the thin film of moisture building up between her thighs.

The knot in her tummy alternately tightened and loosened. She was turned on one moment, apprehensive the next. That was Vasily up there, her neighbour across the hallway of her apartment. He was on the stage because of her. He was almost naked, dancing and oozing masculine sexuality in front of a room full of carnal-minded banshees because of her. They all desired him. They all wanted a taste... a taste she was intimately familiar with.

She was sharing him with others. She didn't like it.

"Go, Boris! Go, Boris! Go! Go! Go, Boris!" the women chanted, using their hot passion to make their Adonis dance and grind for them.

Somewhere in Vasily's head, a tiny little version of himself sat stone-faced in a corner, arms crossed thinking this was the most ridiculous thing he's ever seen. "You are a rock. You are a statue," the tiny man in his head said, "you are not a prancing pony."

"Take it off! Take it off!" the crowd beckoned.

Vasily cracked a smile. He was not a prancing pony. He was a stud... a stud galloping across an open, fertile range.

Carie's jaw dropped as she slowly shook her head in disbelief. "No... way," she droned.

Vasily tilted his chin towards Johnny, catching the M.C.'s eye. He tipped the lid of his cap.

Johnny winked and got on the mic, "Oh! What do we hear? 'Take it off'? Take Boris off the stage? Is that what you want?"

There was a chorus of boos.

"I'm sorry," Johnny teased, "we can't hear from all the 'rain' in the room!"

The savvy crowd knew what that meant. Dollar bills were flung onto the catwalk from every corner.

Vasily doffed his sweaty baseball cap, exposing his slicked-back hair, then tossed it into the scrum. There was another round of boos for this tease.

Johnny shook his head and waved his hand. "Nope. I guess we're calling for a downpour tonight!"

A torrent of bills showered onto the stage. Vasily stepped on money in his barefeet for the first time in his life. It felt amazing. It shut up the tiny man in his head for good.

Carie edged closer to the brass railing lining the bar level. She chewed on her lower lip and bounced quickly on the toes of her high heel shoes.

She wanted to see this. She didn't want to see this.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit... "

Vasily planted his feet on the stage, shoulder width apart. He touched a clasp on the band of his thong and stood still, turning only his head to survey the throng of women, like a lord over his disciples. Then with a deliberate ease, he stopped, raised his arm and extended his finger, like Babe Ruth pointing towards the bleachers.

His index finger fired an invisible laser straight through the crowd and the lights and shadows and burned itself into Carie's pounding heart. She gripped the rail, suddenly feeling a scorching fire up her spine and a tingle in her gut strong enough to buckle her knees.

Carie blinked, and as her eyelids raised, a wild cheer blew up in the room.

Vasily's package was unwrapped. Somewhere in the morass of women, his humble thong had set off a catfight, but it was really hard to tell who the combatants were. Everyone was going nuts. He chucked aside his prop bat and swaggered up and down the catwalk, swishing his lengthy shaft side-to-side to the delight of the ladies. It was like a King Cobra, their cheers and whistles swaying it with a hypnotic tune. At the end of the walk, he spun around and clenched and relaxed his buttocks at will. The man had absolute command over his buff body and he wielded it to control the will of his frenzied fans.

Even Johnny had a look of impressed amazement on his radish-red face. He almost forgot that his mike was still live as he muttered, "Jesus on a stick."

Carie covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed back her heart. Good God, Vasily looked delicious up there, like a magnificent Grade AAA bull up for auction. It made even her teeth tingle. Even though her dress was but a thin layer of cloth, she was still shining with perspiration. The heat around her, within her, was swelling.

Johnny dabbed himself with his kerchief again. Might as well go all in tonight, he thought. Stepping up, he announced to the crowd, "Well! Well! Well! It seems all Boris has left on is his pride and his anonymity! Do we have anyone willing to claim one or the other... or both? Who will unmask our Commie Conquerer?"

They no longer sounded human to Vasily's ears. Women were jumping up and down with their hands in the air, pumping up dollar bills in their fists. It was as if he were at a rock concert.

Johnny made a calculated guess as to which of the women around the stage had the most money gripped in her fingers. He held out a hand and pulled her out, helping her climb onto the catwalk.

Carie frowned, one brow slicing downward, the other cocked towards the ceiling. She eyed the patron who had been plucked out from the crowd and now stood in the spotlight just a couple of feet away from Vasily who was dressed only in a mask and a layer of oil and sweat. What stood out on this woman was her frizzy peach-coloured hair and what appeared to be a large tattoo of a dragonfly perched on her back shoulder, exposed above her tight-fitting tube top.

"Son of a... " Carie mouthed.

Vasily struck a Superman pose, trying to stay calm and focused. Yet, he was suddenly aware of just how hard he was breathing and how energy-sapping those spotlights were. The oil on his body felt really uncomfortable and he was consciously trying to dig his toes into the stage worried that he may slip, and worse, fall among the "wild boars". He wasn't even really paying much attention to the woman on the stage with him. He just scanned the area at the back by the bar.

Where did she go?

"Hey, stranger," the woman on the stage said, leaning in. "I like your ink. Want a second chance to check out mine a lot more closely afterwards?"

Vasily squinted at her through his mask. He didn't know if he was supposed to have remembered her from somewhere the way she was looking at him. He definitely couldn't hear what she was saying and didn't read lips very well. Was she asking him if he wanted to look at the taps in her kitchen?

With a lurid little smile, the woman stepped close to him, almost touching the top of her leather skirt against his exposed cock, and reached up to his face to pull off his mask.

Just then, Carie appeared out of nowhere on the launch pad at the back of the stage, barefoot and teeth clenched. Clutching her high-heels, she charged across the catwalk and bodychecked the woman off and into the crowd. For a moment, the woman body-surfed across the dense mass of ladies, flailing and squirming, before unceremoniously settling into the crowd as if it were quicksand.

Pandemonium erupted. Some women were screaming, others were still cheering - it sounded like an airport hangar. Johnny grabbed at Carie but she brushed him away, sending him careening off the catwalk. The ladies in the crowd were none too happy about his slimy carcass falling into their midst and rained slaps and drinks upon him.

A couple of bouncers had their hands full trying to make their way to the stage. They actually seemed to be carried away further as if caught in an undertow.

"Let's get out of here!" Carie shouted at Vasily, still masked. However, as she tugged at his arm, his oily skin slipped through her fingers and he tumbled down onto the catwalk.

Vasily managed to stay on the stage, barely. Still, female hands quickly descended upon him, clawing and groping wildly at his flesh. He tried to stand, but his lathered up body kept slipping on the surface, and he flopped about like he were a fish on a skillet.

"Get up!" Carie wrapped both her arms around his bicep and heaved upward. Miraculously, she managed to wrestle him up to his feet, despite her comparatively diminutive size.

She had heard about people exhibiting super-human strength during a crisis. She would have to Google it when she got back home.

Dollar bills stuck to his body, Vasily leaned on Carie as they shuffled carefully, but quickly, off the stage and to the back. A hail of debris was tossed around the room, signalling their departure.

Fawns Over Foxes was closed for the rest of the evening... due to "wild boars".

*****

Both Carie and Vasily strode barefoot on the sidewalk pavement. She had lost her shoes in the commotion back at the club and he had barely anytime to dress. He had managed to pull on his jeans and his long duster coat, but couldn't find his shirt. He was also still wearing the mask.

They were quite the sight, like some tall, masked, homeless cowboy being led by the wrist by his sexy, mini-dress wearing, Chinese nanny in the middle of the night.

"Where's your van?" she muttered.

"In alley..." Vasily replied, pointing over his shoulder in the opposite direction they were headed, "...that way."

"Oh, for the love of... " Carie fumed as she rolled her eyes. She spun on her heels and walked back the other way, still tugging Vasily along with her. "Why would you park in an alley? Are you Batman or something?"

Vasily peered at the back of her head through the narrow holes of his mask. Was she mad at him? Hold on. She... was mad... at him?

Carie was mad. She was mad at herself for coming up with the stupid idea for tonight. And, yes, she was mad at Vasily for seemingly enjoying himself so much on stage... and for looking so freaking hot. "I can't believe you did that!"

Vasily seemed to recall that someone had made him get up on that stage.

"Where did you learn to strip like that?" she asked pointedly. "Wait. Don't tell me... Youtube. right?"

"No," he said, his voice a blunt instrument.

"Great. I've got a natural born male stripper living across the hall from me," Carie grumbled.

"What is 'natural born'?"

"It means you've got a real talent for shaking your bare booty ass in front of people," she replied. "Congratulations."

"I was good?" Vasily asked. "Shaking booty?"

Carie smirked as they turned down the alley. The words "shaking booty" sounded so ridiculous coming from a six-foot-three, two hundred pound oak tree like Vasily. "Several dozen horny women back at the club would concur, I'm sure."

"Do you enjoy how I strip?"

Carie pursed her lips,keeping them in check as they made their way to the end of the alley. Honestly, the tingling sensation in her belly and between her thighs hadn't stopped.

They approached Vasily's minivan when he suddenly put on the brakes. Carie lurched forward then looked back at him. "What?" she asked, exasperated.

"Did you enjoy how I strip?" he repeated.

Carie dropped his hand and crossed her arms. She regarded him for a second, fought against her urges and scoffed, "Don't flatter yourself."

"No?"

Carie sucked in her lips. A twitchy lamp on the side of one of the buildings flickered weakly overhead casting the two of them in partial shadow. Vasily standing there with his bare chest exposed between the part in his coat, and the mask on his face, suddenly resembled a fantasy she must have had maybe a couple dozen times since she hit puberty.

Cripes, her teeth started to tingle again, along with numerous other parts of her body.

"Maybe like a dancing monkey at a circus." She sneered, trying to look more convincing than she sounded. She sniffed, "You were entertaining to the common folk."

Vasily pursed his lips and looked aside, nodding.

"You're a long way from the Bolshoi," she added.

He nodded his way back to her and then clapped his beefy hands and said, "Good. Then you tell me how to strip."

"What?" Carie's voice dropped an octave.