Silent Love Ch. 02byKaya_Shulia©
Thanks for the wonderful comments and support Literotica community. A special thanks to Honeycaramelbits, you are the best editor in the world!! No sex yet ( sorry, the characters are not ready for that step yet). Please remember to vote, and do comment to your heart's content.
"How was the game? Sorry I could not make it," Zoya yelled at Shahid from the kitchen as she heard him come through the front door.
"We won 12-4. What we eating?"
"Congrats. Take a shower before you stink the whole house," she said to him she taking the vegetables she was warming from the microwave and placing them on the counter. He poked his head into the small kitchen and smiled at his sister.
"Don't burn the food, again."
"Shut up or come and do it yourself. Did you sign up to take your SAT?"
"Yes. Three recruiters spoke to be today."
"Really?!" She squealed with pleasure. "What schools?" She asked as she turned off the rice cooker and turned away from the dinner she was cooking.
"UGA, UNC, and Stanford."
"I am so excited. Mom would be so happy. Do you know which one you would like to go to?"
"I think UNC, I like their Bio program."
"I am so proud of you Shahii," she said using the nickname she coined for him when they were kids. She walked up to him and reached up to give him a hug. "God you smell awful," she said as she pushed his tall lanky body away from her and out the kitchen. "Shower and put your soccer stuff away."
"Why you got to be such a pain?" He asked as he crossed to the only bathroom in the small apartment with his soccer bag over his shoulder. "Something is burning," he screamed to her as he closed the bathroom door.
"Fuck meeee!" Dinner that night did not go as planned, but was eatable if you looked pass the burnt smell.
She finished her classes early on Friday, which was perfect so she could get to her interview on time. The appointment with the man in charge of the rich guy's household, was in Decatur, where the condo was located.
She had dressed for the interview with Mr. Kabinov before she went to school, so she wouldn't run late by having to go home to change. When she met with Erik that day for lunch he asked her what was the special occasion. She replied that she just wanted to look nice for a change, not wanting to explain to him that she was going for a job interview. She had told him she worked but never where or what she did, gratefully he never asked for more information. His respect of her privacy was one of the best things about her friendship with Erik.
Decatur had always been an interesting place to live. The square, which was the center of the city, there are shops, fine dining, bars, and even a museum, but outside of that a just few yards away there is an extremely affluent suburban life. Some of the richest and most successful people in Atlanta and all over Georgia lived in this area. Zoya lived a few miles away from this in an area most people would call the ghetto, also commonly known as government housing. Her neighborhood unlike downtown Decatur and surrounding areas was the exact opposite of wealth, the area screamed poverty. Their apartments were probably made in the 70's, and rarely if ever did they get remodeled. Most of the people who lived there were low-income refugees, immigrants, and African-Americans. One of Zoya's main goals for the future was to own one of the condos she was going to be cleaning for the next few months, and hopefully the rest of her college career.
As she entered the building, the doorman opened the door for her and smiled. She thanked him softly and walked up to the front desk.
"Hello," she said to the woman at the desk. "I am here to see Mr. Kabinov."
"Ok, may I see your ID please. Give me a second to call him for you," she said picking up the phone. Zoya tried not to stare at her surrounding, but she could not help looking around as she waited. The furniture in the waiting room alone looked like it cost more than her and Shahid's whole apartment, maybe even the whole apartment building. The art on the wall looked like it belonged in a museum and could pay her and Shahid's college tuition with a good amount left over. Even the air in the room smelled expensive. The room was so large it made her feel small.
"Ma'am, please follow me," the lady said as she got out of chair and moved down the hall. Zoya had to rush to follow behind her. She went through the glass door the woman was holding for her, and waited her for to provide directions.
"The sixth floor is where Mr. Bazin's suites are. As soon as the elevator opens you will see double doors, go through them and Mr. Kabinov should be there." I guess my new boss is Mr. Bazin. Stupid Zoya, just like you to go for a job interview and not even know who you are working for, she thought to herself.
"Thank you," Zoya said as she followed the lady to the elevator. The woman used her ID to open the elevator and waved Zoya off. As she got on the elevator she pressed the sixth floor, adjusted her clothes and checked her lipstick as the elevator moved. On the sixth floor she got out, walked toward the double doors and knocked. A soft enter came from within. She opened one of the doors, walking in what she guessed to be the living room.
The first thing she noticed was how bright it was inside the room. She also noticed the short man sitting on the black couch in the middle of the room facing her. His graying mustache, his salt-pepper hair and the wrinkles on his face, gave Zoya the impression that he was in his late fifties or even early sixties. Zoya looked pass him and saw a glass door, that led to the balcony. The light from the waning afternoon sun gave the room a bright welcoming feeling. There was an unlit fireplace was in the center of the room with the two large black couches and a black love seat circling it. To the right of the room was another pair of double doors that led to other rooms in the condo while to the left there was a glass door that separated the living room and a large kitchen.
The man cleared his throat a few times, before Zoya finally looked at him with wide apologetic eyes. "Come on in young lady and close the door behind you," the man waved Zoya in. Russian accent? Not noticing that there was a small set of steps that lead inside the room Zoya almost tripped on her heels as she moved toward the man. Catching herself in time before she fell on her face. She silently cursed at her stupidity and continued on toward the man, who had stood up, by now.
"Hello sir, my name is Zoya Khan," she said she took his out reached hand and shook it.
"Yes, Tim said you were good for the job. Name is Kabinov. Please, take a seat," said the man as he sat back on the coach. Zoya walked around the fireplace and sat on the opposite coach.
"So," Mr. Kabinov said as he took out a pen and a black notebook. "What is it that you do Ms. Khan?"
"I am a student at Callaway University, I clean houses, babysit children and I also housesit," Zoya rushed out. The man looked at her for a second and then smiled noticing the way she played with her hair bun and adjusted her clothes. He could tell she was extremely nervous.
"Relax, you are nothing to be nervous about," he said as he leaned back on the couch. Zoya forced a smile and nodded at him.
"Now, you say you are a student. What are you studying?"
"I am studying Political Science and Economics."
"How is your schedule? What do you do outside of school? And if you were hired when are you available to start?" As Mr. Kabinov asked question after question Zoya answered to the best of her ability, while at the same time praying to Allah that he hire her. After about 15 more minutes of asking questions non-stop Mr. Kabinov got up and told her to follow him.
"Mr. Bazin stays here during the week. Working for him can be hard at times, but also beneficial. He expects order and comfort in all of his households, once start your number one responsibility is to please Mr. Bazin. Your daily activities will include basic house cleaning, sending his clothes to and picking them up from the cleaners and getting him whatever he needs for the kitchen. He rarely eats here so it will be nothing extensive and he will most likely make a list of items he needs for you to get."
"Does that mean I have the job sir?" Zoya asked as she followed him inside the first room he opened. It looked like it could be a music room or a room made for entertainment. There was a piano next to the one big window in the room. Another black coach was placed in the middle of the room facing a large TV. There were several shelves against the wall; some had several books while others had DVDs and video games.
"Now why would I be telling you all of these if you did not get the job," he said as he walked toward another door waving Zoya's cut-off thank you and walking inside a bedroom.
"All Mr. Bazin's employees are expected to have honor in everything they do and to be at their best behavior at all times. Everything you see or hear while at one of Mr. Bazin's residences shall not be spoken to the outside world. The room we were in was the music room. Sometimes if Mr. Bazin would like to entertain a small group of friends he would have it at this location. There is one extra bedroom plus Mr. Bazin's room in this condo; the extra room is not used most of the time but it is to be kept clean and ready to be used at all times."
The room was designed contemporarily but had no personal taste whatsoever to it. It had a king size bed and a chair next to the window. There were three doors in the room, the one they came through, one lead to a closet and the other was connected to the master bedroom.
"There are two ways to get to the master bedroom. As you see all the rooms are connected, so you can go through the rooms we just passed through or you get here by using a side door next to the kitchen. Why so many doors in a place such as this one? No matter, Mr. Bazin likes it here and that is all that matters."
The master bedroom turned out to be the most interesting room in the condo. The huge bed and the fire place were eye catching and breathtaking. Zoya did not know anyone who slept in a room as large as this one; much less have a fire place in their room. The bed seemed to be larger than a king size and set so high that it almost reached her waist. She had never felt as small as she did today. At 5 feet 6 inches she always considered herself to be average and on certain occasions even a giant. Today however everything, except for Mr. Kabinov who came up to her shoulders, seemed to make her little as though she was the size of a small child.
The bed was already made with white sheets and comforter and was placed against the wall facing another balcony. Next to the bed was a table with reading glasses and a book. The room, like the rest of the condo had shiny hardwood floor. The only place that was carpeted was a spot a few inches away from the fire place. There was a large black chair and a foot stool next to the fire place. A few pictures were placed around the room, nothing personal, of places that she assumes to be in Russia base on the architecture of the buildings. Mr. Kabinov seemed to understand that Zoya needed a minute to look around; he left her and went inside the closet. After a few minutes he waved her to come in.
While Mr. Kabinov started to pull clothes and shoes from random places, Zoya took a minute to spin around the place checking out everything in the closet. There were rows and rows of shoes, suites, jeans and so many other things that Zoya could not take account of them all without feeling a little overwhelmed and underprivileged.
"Mr. Bazin likes everything to be in order, there is to be nothing out of place. In this closet he is usually the one to keep everything organized, but come in here every day and if anything is out of place ensure that you fix it. Every once in a while he might ask you to clear out his closet or put things in different places, but other than that keeping this place clean and dust free should be the only thing you have to worry about. The whole place need to be mopped three times a week, the windows must be cleaned three times a week, the bathrooms and kitchen must be cleaned every day, dusting should be done twice a week and once those two baskets are full you must go to the cleaners" he said pointing out the baskets.
"I or my assistant will check on the place twice in a week to make sure everything is good. You will be paid $500 a week twice a month. You will find an envelope on the kitchen table with your name on it two weeks from now. I know you have school, but you are required to be here every day. If there is no cleaning to be done just check on the condo and make sure everything looks clean and then be on your way. You must be done with everything by 7pm, which is when Mr. Bazin will be home on the weeknights. "
Zoya showed her understanding of her responsibilities with a nod of her head. They walked out of the closet and used another door to go out to the kitchen, where Mr. Kabinov showed her the cleaning supplies. There was a nice sized island kitchen that looked like something for one of those TV shows on the cooking channel. What does a man need an elegant kitchen for anyway. Most likely he does not know how to cook. She chuckled to herself thinking of last night's dinner mishap.
"The place is never locked so you won't need a key to get in. I will give the people at the desk your name so when you come in they will let you upstairs. People who work for Mr. Bazin might drop by, but other than them no one else is allowed in without mine or Mr. Bazin's approval. If he has a guest who is not on the list in the front desk tell them to come back later or to make an appointment. Do you have any questions Ms. Khan?" Mr. Kabinov asked as they walked back into the middle of the living room.
"No Sir, I think I have everything."
"Good, tomorrow will be your first day at work. If anything happens or you need to talk to me call me on my mobile," he said as he asked handed her his business card. As he showed her out Zoya almost squealed with happiness. $500 a week I can pay the bills and focus on school without doing much babysitting or other house cleaning!!
On Saturday Zoya decided to go to Mr. Bazin's condo in the late afternoon after she did the other house she cleaned and her homework. It was around 6:30pm when she finished cleaning everything in the condo, except for the living room. Usually when cleaning a house she had the whole house to herself, so she never had to worry about people hovering over her and checking on her progress, today was no different. Most people would have been bored spending three to five hours doing nothing except cleaning, but she enjoyed it. With her music of choice on blast she was free to move about and ponder about life, her future, or not think at all. The peace that comes along with solitude was the most enjoyable thing cleaning gave her.
He cursed in Russian as he got out of the car without waiting for his body guard Geo to park the car. It was already 6:50pm and he needed to be at his dinner meeting at 8:30pm. This meeting was not something he could send Boris or any of his other men to, this situation needed his personal appearance. Dmitry hated admitting that he needed anyone for any reason. He needed to represent himself and his businesses in the best light possible to the group of men he was meeting. And to do that he needed to show them the respect they so craved and meet with them himself rather than sending one of his men. If he had their trust and "approval" it would be less work for him. If he gets the smooth path of transaction he desired, he would not have to go through the trouble of going behind their backs and possible making unnecessary enemies.
Atlanta was fifteen minutes away. He needed to change ASAP and be on his way by 8pm. Without waiting for Geo to come in Bazin rushed to the elevator, replying to the greetings from the old man behind the receptionist desk. As the elevator opened on his floor he heard music coming from within. He did not remember Erik saying he was staying here for the weekend. No matter, he just needed to change, get some things and be on his way.
As he opened the first set of double doors he realized the music was in a language he never heard before. It got louder and louder as he moved toward the second double doors, and he walked in and looked around to see where the music was coming from. After a few seconds of listening to the music and looking at the small pink radio Dmitry gazed around room. Usually he was never the one to be surprised or shocked, but what he saw in his living room was out of the ordinary for him.
Her movements betrayed her dancing skills or lack thereof. Where she fell short of in skill she made up with the passion and carefreeness she put forth in her dancing. Her movements consisted of rolling her hips in tune with the beat of the drum sand moving her hands and head back and forth while she cleaned the glass door that lead to the southern balcony. She was a small thing, well compared to him she was. At 6'7 he considered most people small he had ever since he woke up one morning and realized he stood above most people. By his judgment the black girl who was dancing in his home, like it was one of the clubs he owned, probably weighted no more than 120 and could be easily taken down by the weakest of his men.
As she kicked her left foot out he noticed that she was wearing shorts that showed off her beautifully curved legs. Looking at them Dmitry guessed she did some kind of soft sport, most likely her dancing, that gave them that perfect muscle strength. Looking lower he saw that she was bare foot. Finding nothing interesting about her cute feet he looked higher to try and place her, but his eyes of their own accord paused before he could make it up to her waist. She had the most perfect behind he ever seen. It looked firm and he bet if he were to slap it, it would bounce like jello. With that ass even if her face was not pleasant to look at she could attract a lot of guys. As she moved her hips to the music Dmitry mentally shook himself and focused on the issue at hand. Who the hell is she? And what the fuck is she doing in my house?
Moving down the small steps he moved toward the radio and unplugged it with his foot. As soon as the music came to a halt she immediately turned around. For a second Dmitry thought she was going to faint in surprise or something silly that women sometimes did, shit like that pissed him off.
"What are you doing here?" he asked her as he moved toward her. She did not answer immediately, she seemed to still be in shock. She is beautiful, he though. She had dark chocolate complexion with full kissable lips and big eyes that expressed things she would not express with words. Her nose was just the perfect size for her face it was neither too small nor too big. She was probably in her early twenties it looked like. Too young, God she is going to be even more beautiful as she gets older.
"Do you speak English?" He said after taking a few minutes to take her frontal beauty in.
"Of course I speak English," Zoya said as she continued staring at the beautiful dark haired man. He would not to be mistaken for a pretty boy she thought. The only thing soft about him Zoya could notice was his grey eyes and the way his voice made her feel, like heat was traveling down her whole body with every word he spoke. As he moved toward her his eyes captivated her. When he slowly came near her she almost backed away in fear of him and her reaction to him, but she controlled herself. As he looked down at her she noticed how tall he was and how fit his body was. Although he was not buff his body, from what she could tell that under the black t-shirt and jeans, he was pure muscle. He reminded her of a wild cat she once saw on a trip from her village to the capital. Like the cat, he was beautiful to look at but not someone you wanted to miss with. What do the Russians feed them to make them come out so gorgeous? Those eyes that voice, Mashallah! Realizing that she been staring his body longer than what was normally accepted she gazed back at his eyes and after clearing her voice she spoke up.