Going Under Ch. 02byTang88©
Chapter Two: Submission
Sara spent the next week on sick leave, stirring only from her flat every couple of days to get food from the bleak convenience store on the corner of her block. She felt as if she had descended further than she had been before she had met Cate. Things were even bleaker than then, and however painful it was to recognise, she knew she wished she had never been at that station, that she had left the party thirty minutes earlier, thirty minutes later, any combination which meant that Cate and herself had never had the chance to know of the other's existence.
Sara, she could not stop herself, however, coming to love the fact that she knew, knew rather than guessed, that without her there Cate would have been killed, another unknown female corpse only reported on the news if it was a slow day. At better times, she reconciled herself with the thought that Cate was tough and if Cate could recover so could she. Only at the best times, when she was downing the first one or two glasses of that evening's new bottle of vodka, would she allow herself to remember any pleasure of being with Cate and to tell herself that in modern society relationships were quick burning, a lot of light and heat that was soon gone.
Sara's week hardened her, and she determined to dig herself back up at least to where she had been before Cate had appeared. The tedium, the greyness, took on a comfort. She knew the lyrics too well. She could cope with being poor if she had not had seen such riches: so, she had to pretend she had never been rich. She agreed that she would never again risk the highs as she knew now that the lows were worse, far worse than she could cope with. Then again, she was coping, she was surviving, thousands of miles from home in one of the most melancholy cities humans inhabited.
It was a pale, slimmer Sara who returned to work, her clothes seemingly intentionally shabby. The dark colours, the maroon, the bright black had gone, dumped into the refuse for Sara's neighbours or the homeless to make grateful use of. Now it was not dark colours, but mundane ones that Sara wore. Even the cut of the clothes she favoured seemed featureless.
To her colleagues, Sara had aged more than a decade and speculation on what ailed her ran around the office, but she was back and there was work to be done, work that numbed her with its tedium. Her focus was on working late, revising and re-cataloguing, the consuming tasks that deadened everything about her. Whilst her immediate boss, Gillian Saunders felt concerned, she had no idea how to broach the subject. John Harker, the next one up the managerial ladder above Saunders, if he ever thought about Sara, was satisfied that she seemed finally to have buckled down to embassy life and was proving a proper employee.
It was three months since Cate had gone. The weather was improving but Sara was oblivious. Her head seemed empty as if her mind had lost all feeling with the amount of scar tissue that had formed across it. She looked around the small dark bar and glanced up at the football match that engaged the attention of its other customers. She quickly drank her third vodka of the night and stood up to get another. The barman turned his gaze from the match and collected the vodka bottle he had left on the bar.
Sara lifted two fingers and he got another glass. He sloshed the transparent liquid into that one, and the one Sara brought with her. She downed that one before fumbling in her pocket for her money.
"I'll get it."
Sara looked up to see a thin, but robust looking man with a moustache that betrayed him as an East European. Sara guessed from the accent of his Russian that he was something like a Pole.
"Thank you." Sara said and began shuffling back to her table.
The man collected his bottle of red wine and followed. Sara did not resist as he sat down next to her and poured her a glass of wine which he pushed across the small table. Sara gripped the stem of the glass in her left hand, her fifth vodka remaining in her right.
"Wladyslaw." The man said.
"Foreman." He replied proudly. "English?"
Sara smiled. "Good guess, most people say American..."
"But you're Canadian. You know it's always safer to say English, most Americans are flattered by that, but anyone else who speaks English: Canadians, English, Australians, South Africans, Dutch, all get insulted if you say they're American."
"Right." Sara replied, not really following the argument. "You talk a lot for a builder." She belched. "Sorry, that sounded rude, not the burp, well that was rude, the bit about talking and building."
Wladyslaw dismissed it with the wave of his hand. "I won't always be a builder. I'm working for a German company here, once my time is up, I'll have most of the money I need to do a law degree."
"So you're a wannabe student?" Sara laughed.
Wladyslaw nodded. "Why not?" He sipped some wine and looked at Sara clearly hoping she would do likewise.
"Yes, why not?" Sara realised she was not as drunk as she thought, the nights in this bar were inuring her to the vodka's effects. She looked Wladyslaw over. He was probably a few years younger than herself, and whilst she could see problems ahead connecting with the moustache, he looked fit. Her arms felt a dull ache as she realised how good it would feel to have his taut flesh between them.
"So what do you want to be?"
"A lesbian." Sara snapped back. Seeing Wladyslaw's face she laughed and patted his arm. "No, Canada's first female ambassador to Moscow, then a nice post at the UN."
Wladyslaw nodded taking Sara's words seriously as only East Europeans could. "Good ambitions. I guess you work for the embassy."
"Yes, the hard slog to promotion."
"Well, then we're alike I suppose."
Sara pondered the statement. She supposed they were. Pretty much alone in this Russian city, with dreary jobs, both planning for something better, both of a nationality that no-one particularly found offensive. If she was American and him a German, then that would be something entirely different.
"Yes, we are." Sara's tone had softened.
"Well, if that's agreed, then we're both too good for this place." Wladyslaw said in a stage whisper, leaning in close to Sara with a over-dramatised nod to the barman who remained entranced by the television.
In a burst of activity, Wladyslaw had Sara's hand and was pulling her from the bar, their drinks forgotten. In moments they were out on the street and in minutes they were in the back of a taxi. Sara was happy to let Wladyslaw bubble away talking about his work, the places they were passing and Moscow in general. Soon the taxi pulled up in front of an old-fashioned building in a pretty quiet street.
"You look like you need some feeding. This is the best place in Moscow."
"Okay." Sara said, smiling to herself that she had somehow found herself in the middle of a date.
The pair walked up the steps beneath heavy stonework. Wladyslaw pushed open the large wooden door and they were into the yellowy glow of a bar-restaurant. There were quite a few people around but the atmosphere was quiet. Sara wondered what the place had been, maybe a bank, probably some official building of a now defunct Soviet government department. It was decorated in Eastern European hunting lodge style, with a large fireplace, gloomy paintings and the heads of dead game hanging from the walls.
Wladyslaw hurried over to a member of staff with Sara close behind. It was clear the two men knew each other and spoke in Polish. Sara knew quite a bit of Polish, it was not that hard after Russian, but she did not let on for the moment. Sara and Wladyslaw were soon being led to a secluded table and Polish vodka was brought to them. Wladyslaw gave a quick toast and they both downed the glasses.
"I like it here, but I never have an excuse to come here."
"You need an excuse?"
"I'm not good as a solitary diner."
"So that's all I am, a ticket to you eating well?" Sara smiled and caught Wladyslaw's look to show it was meant lightly.
"Could I ask for a more beautiful excuse?" Wladyslaw replied, holding her gaze for a moment.
Sara blushed a little, the warmth she felt was only partly caused by the vodka.
Sara looked up to see another man, taller and a little older than Wladyslaw crossing the room towards them. He had the same wiriness of a builder and Sara guessed he was a workmate. His rather lank shoulder length hair and beard certainly gave him the East European look. Hovering near the door were three other similar looking men, one was huge, probably half a metre taller than Sara and his deep voice carried to Sara's ear.
"This is Josef." Wladyslaw said in Russian as the man himself extended his hand to Sara. "He's my lead hand."
"I'm Sara." Sara said in Polish.
"A pleasure to meet you." Josef nodded and replied in Polish, smiling with a broad mouthful of teeth. "It's been so long, I thought we wouldn't see you back in here." He addressed Wladyslaw again.
"No, I was just looking for the right companion to come with."
"Enjoy your meal." Josef said to Sara. "See you Monday." He said to Wladyslaw then walked back over to his trio of friends.
Sara smiled back, pleasantly surprised that she seemed to be running into a whole string of Polish gentlemen builders. She traced Josef's group as they were led through the restaurant to a back room and out of sight. Only for an instant did she wonder what they did back there, she guessed it was gambling.
"You never thought to come with Josef and his friends?" Sara asked in Russian.
A flicker of concern passed over Wladyslaw's face. "Well, you know, I don't really like what they eat or how they eat, if you see them later, you'll see how boisterous they get. And any way it's frowned on for the foreman to mix with the workers. I guess it's the same at your place."
"I suppose so."
A waiter appeared with the menus and the two of them began discussion of what food went best with vodka.
Sara stepped from the ladies toilet and was pleasantly surprised to find Wladyslaw waiting in the poorly lit corridor outside it. Sara's smile was probably lost in the gloom and in seconds it was concealed behind Wladyslaw's lips. Sara had no will to resist as his arms locked around her, pulling her, pushing her, as his tongue dipped into her mouth and she moved hers to collide with it. They broke after a few moments, gasping. Sara licked her lips, liking the taste of vodka-flavoured Pole.
Sara knew she was too lonely to pass up the chance of such physical contact. Wladyslaw's body pressed against hers reminded her how much she had missed such feelings. This time she backed him across the narrow corridor and up against the wall. She dived in, running her hands frantically over him as if trying to map out his whole body within the following minute. The closeness of his face, the sensuous slippery texture of his tongue, the realisation of a human tight against her, within her, thrilled Sara to the core.
"Come." Wladyslaw said leading Sara a little reluctantly by the hand.
Wladyslaw pushed open a door off the corridor taking them into a small room of furniture, much of it covered with dust sheets. However, a short antique sofa had been exposed and Wladyslaw slumped into it, pulling Sara down on top of him. It was not luxurious but it was good. The pace of their actions in the corridor slowed and Sara revelled in the feel of Wladyslaw as his kisses explored her face and her neck as his hands stroked her bum and cupped her rising breasts. In an instant Sara knew this was what she needed, what she wanted, and was unresisting as Wladyslaw shed Sara's jacket and pulled her sweater over her head.
In turn Sara stripped him of his outer clothes until they were both topless, each playing with the other's nipples by rubbing their chests together slowly back and forth, each passing heightened Sara's excitement until, impatient, she began licking Wladyslaw's muscular chest, running down to his navel, nuzzling at his crotch showing she was keen to go further. Yet Wladyslaw took his time, kissing, nibbling, stroking every sensitive naked part of Sara's body until she was beginning to slide off her jeans eager to feel his whole body locked with her own. Sara stood to shake her jeans from her feet and slid her panties down her shapely legs to join them. Wladyslaw looked up appreciatively at her, lit by the weak light spilling in from the panel over the door.
Sara lowered herself to her knees and eased between Wladyslaw's splayed legs, gripping each inner thigh with her hands, sliding them up towards his crotch then stroking her head along them. She could feel his muscles taut beneath the denim and was sure his cock was as hard as the stone floor beneath them. Sara sat up with her hands resting either side of her naked pussy. It was a struggle for her not to run her fingers over her juicy lips or to stroke her clit, to give her taut body some release, but she was eager that it would be Wladyslaw's flesh that penetrated her now.
"Come inside." Sara whispered breathlessly in Polish.
Sara watched as Wladyslaw struggled to disentangle his jeans and underpants from around his engorged cock. As finally his sex was free she slid forward eager to impale herself on him, to feel this stranger pierce her. Yet Wladyslaw held up a hand as if warding her off. He fumbled on the floor amongst his discarded clothes. Part of Sara was frustrated as she was ready to ravage him, she wanted to ride him, to tear at his flesh, sliding over him as their skins became slick with sweat and sexual juice. However, a rational part of her was patient enough as he slid a condom so easily over his cock which looked ready to burst with the unsatisfied pressure built up within it. Sara mentally put another point on Wladyslaw's rating.
Once Wladyslaw's preparations were complete, though, Sara was on him, her mouth sucking, chewing at any flesh it came into contact with. Sara spread her legs wide allowing her to slide the full length of his cock grunting in pleasure as his it dug deep into her and she closed her muscles tight around it locking him in. Her body was not going to let him go. Sara set the pace with Wladyslaw prone, as his body was used by her, bucking against his cock, daring him to come before she was finished. There was no danger of that, Sara's need had been built up over weeks of loneliness and it drew everything it could from this hard, soft man.
When she came Sara no longer had any inhibitions. She grasped his body against hers licking up the swear from his shoulders, drinking him in, breathing him in. As she did, her control went entirely and she began a crescendo of shrieks rising into a single high note as she was flooded with the sensation her brain told her she had deprived herself of for far too long. Sara was still shuddering, quivering with pleasure out of time as Wladyslaw shook with a few gasps. Spent and totally used he slumped back panting. Sara would not let him go and used the last of his hardness and her own fingers to strum herself to another orgasm, quieter this time, but deep, emanating from some place beneath the small of her back, sending her tongue and eyelids fluttering as she flushed the last of the sensation from her body with a shake.
Sara snuggled up to Wladyslaw as their sodden bodies cooled and dried. She felt that post-coital warmth that suggested every part of her body had been massaged and her mind swept away.
Sara awoke with a start as she felt a draught over her naked back.
"Oh sorry." A woman's voice said in Russian.
Sara twisted her head round to see a waitress standing in the doorway.
"No, I'm sorry, we shouldn't be in here?" Sara apologised.
"No problem, I thought it was empty." The waitress explained.
"We won't be long. What time is it?"
"Half past one, quarter to two." With that the waitress closed the door.
"Wake up, sleepyhead." Sara said playfully patting Wladyslaw's face.
"What?" Wladyslaw said, feigning drowsiness but Sara had seen his eyes come alive in an instant.
Sara leant forward and kissed him. "Time to take me home. I can't kip in a disused storeroom full of old furniture. Anyway, I think they want to close up."
Sara stepped back, her skin peeling away from Wladyslaw's uncomfortably. Wladyslaw sat up, tugged the full condom from his flaccid penis and knotted the end.
"Such manners." Sara joked as she searched for her underwear.
In the next few minutes the pair disentangled their clothes and dressed, they even covered the sofa with a spare dust sheet, pausing between each stage for quick kisses.
Once they finally stepped out into the corridor it was darker. The way back to the restaurant was black, but a door had been left open at the other end, apparently out into an alley. Wladyslaw nodded for them to go that way and for a moment Sara wondered how many other women he had had late night rendezvous with in this room. Then she dismissed the thought. The fact that such thoughts were running frantically through her head told her this evening had been excellent for her. The fact that her feet felt as if they were travelling a handful of centimetres from the floor confirmed it.
Wladyslaw took Sara's hand and walked to the exit where he stopped and looked both ways up what appeared to be a courtyard with alleys at both ends leading off it back to the main roads. As Wladyslaw stood there silently Sara could hear the scrabbling of animal feet, she guessed it was rats or maybe a dog or a couple of dogs, the number seemed to be increasing and she began to understand Wladyslaw's caution. The pair of them stood breathlessly until the sound faded, then Wladyslaw tugged her. They both tried to enter the alley together and twisted as they almost became wedged. As they turned Sara was pressed against Wladyslaw and breathed in his scent once again. She could not stop herself pushing him against the wall and rubbing her re-awakening crotch against his. Even through the double layer of denim she could feel him hardening again and knew she wanted to take him then and there.
Suddenly the courtyard seemed to explode into activity. There was snarling and shouts, the clash of claw and of metal. Sara tried to make out what was happening. Seconds before she would have sworn that the courtyard was empty but now she could make out flailing figures in the darkness. Then, silhouetted against the sky brightened by streetlights she caught sight of a shape, a big man leaping down from the wall into the melee. Somehow she knew it was the one she had seen with Josef. Wladyslaw manhandled Sara, pushing her roughly in front of him up the alley. Behind her Sara could hear unnatural sounds coming from the fight. She ran as best she could, stumbling on debris hidden in the dark, grasping behind her for Wladyslaw. Then something flew passed her face and she felt his weight had gone.
"Wladyslaw! Wladyslaw!" Sara shrieked, her voice sounding over the baser noises.
Sara turned back to try to find Wladyslaw and stumbled over what she knew in an instant was a body. She clung to it as the only real thing in the chaos. As she lay there sobbing, the sounds around her faded quickly until only her whimpering could be heard in the closed space of the alley. Then there was light. Sara saw the torches of four or five people come on and begin panning across the courtyard. Sara guessed they were police, but then one stepped into the alley and in the combination of lights she could see it was a woman, with a torch in one hand, but in the other not carrying a pistol or a truncheon, but a sabre, the blade of which glistened.
"Ah, Sara. You do keep strange company. I do wonder what Cate would think of you mixing with this lot."