CHAPTER 8. SUNDAY JULY 12, 20:30.
Too many places round here were unable to pay. Or said they couldn't. Didn't want to start getting too physical without orders from Maiorescu himself. But Maiorescu would have to do something about this Georgian mob muscling in otherwise his reputation would end up like a little girl's. And he'd have to do it quickly.
Caramarin drove Tailpipe back to Maiorescu's office at Prokhorovs'ka Street, pulled in behind the Mercedes.
Maiorescu seemed distracted by something on his laptop but his heavy, sweating face looked even more annoyed than usual when Caramarin explained their failure to bring back the full 'insurance premiums'.
"We should have just slapped 'em about a bit. They'd have coughed up then." said Tailpipe.
"Not much point if they've not got it." said Caramarin.
"You're right, Nicu. And I'm not having some fucking Georgian arse wipes thinking they can just walk into my city and help themselves to my business. Shows a total lack of respect. I'll see what I can find out about 'em and then we'll see what we're going to do."
He looked down at his laptop, a leer twisting his ugly face.
In Romanian, a language Tailpipe didn't speak, Maiorescu asked Caramarin to go over to his villa and pick up his wife, Natalya, and a load of cash for laundering through the casinos. Give her a night out. Caramarin raised an eyebrow.
"Keep an eye on her. Don't want her spending it all on dresses and shoes, do I? I don't get anything back, then," he laughed.
Caramarin drove out of Odessa north along the coast road to Yuzhne, elbow resting on the door sill. Turned on Prosto Radio 102.5 FM and sang along to the hits. The sun shone. What a good afternoon to be alive. An hour later, he turned up the gated drive to the villa. A couple of gardeners were tending the flowering shrubs and cleaning the pond.
He parked and saw Natalya reading a celebrity magazine by the pool. She looked up and took off her sunglasses. Her tan was really deep and brown now. She was wearing that tiny white bikini again that set off her figure to perfection and looked divine. She was so far out of Maiorescu's league it was unbelievable. She stood and dropped the magazine onto the recliner.
"I'll go and get changed." Natalya said.
"Want me to wait here?"
"What do you think?"
Caramarin waited a few minutes, talking to the guy cleaning the pool, then followed Natalya up. Any thoughts of caution gone from his mind. She was out of her bikini and out of everything else. She welcomed him with open arms, her full breasts glistening with oil, her shaved pussy open and inviting.
Caramarin growled and threw Natalya to the bed. He took her quickly, passionately, enjoying the pleasure. She moaned, laughed, moaned again. Her oily body rolled out from under him until she was on top, her hands pressing his wrists down to the bed. Her body riding his shaft like a pole, her full breasts two bouncing orbs of pleasure. He stretched up, trying to catch a nipple with his mouth. She pulled back, taking her breasts out of reach, still riding his penis.
He tried to hold back, tried to prolong the exquisite pressure but lasted no longer. He exploded inside her tight love tunnel, bringing Natalya to fruition. They lay together on the damp bed sheets, calm, relaxed, at peace with themselves.
Natalya stood and took a jar of white powder from out among the dresses of her wardrobe. He watched her full body as she brought it to him, his excitement growing again. She lay down and poured a little into the cup of her belly button. He snorted it up both nostrils, waiting for the power buzz that would lift him higher.
Then she sprinkled a little more powder onto his penis. With a wicked smile she swallowed him whole, her lips moving up and down his thickened length and brought him to ecstasy again.
Afterwards, they lay together as the afternoon sun threw shadows over their bed and the white walls. Peaceful, tranquil. Caramarin watched the shadows slide over the room, getting stronger, getting darker. Moving from the corners and alcoves taking over more and more of the walls.
He shivered with a sudden feeling, a sudden premonition of, well if not doom exactly but some bad feeling. Probably been taking too much coke recently. He propped himself up on one elbow and sniffed up a little more snow, the bad feeling edging back towards the back of his mind.
"You're bleeding," Natalya told him. Caramarin rubbed one hand under his nose. A thin trickle of blood smeared his finger.
"Never mind." He'd have to ease up sometime soon. Now would be a good time, or soon at any rate.
He took a shower, washing away the dried sweat and juice from their love making.
"Take me into town," said Natalya. "I fancy a night out, spending Eugen's money."
"Not like that," he laughed. "You've got nothing on."
She towelled her hair, then slipped into a cream and black dress, which showed off her great body to perfection. He looked at her gym toned arms and legs, her blonde hair, her beautiful face. Again, he was struck at the contrast between Natalya and her husband. She made a kiss at Caramarin, applied lipstick and sprayed perfume behind her ears and wrists.
"I'm ready. Let's go." She twirled round. "You can’t you see any panty line under this?"
He peered at her bottom. "No, no I can’t"
"That’s because I’m not wearing any." She lifted up her dress and proved it.
"C'mon. Don't forget the money."
It was getting dark outside. Stars shone in the deep blue sky. Natalya insisted they took her new BMW M5 saloon. He didn't mind arriving in style instead of in his beat up old Opel Combo. She was a fast driver with lead in her heel, the powerful engine speeding the car along the coast road. She cut up slower moving traffic, overtaking every vehicle she passed. Giving the finger to anyone who dared flash their lights.
Caramarin watched her drive. She wasn't relaxed. Her hand gripped the steering wheel, moved the gear stick with short jerky motions. It was like she was releasing her pent up fears and aggression in her driving.
She pulled up with a squeal of brakes in front of the casino. A valet ran up to park their Beemer.
"Go on inside and change the money, I'll be with you in a minute." said Caramarin. He walked over to Belgian and Tailpipe manning the doors.
"Quiet night, lads?"
"So far," said Belgian.
"When are we goin' to see you down the gym?" asked Tailpipe. "Haven't seen you there for a bit."
"No, I've been busy recently."
"I was there this morning," said Tailpipe. "This fat guy comes in and asked me what machine he could use to impress that blonde bint with the big tits over on the rowing machine. I looked him up and down and said 'Why don't you use the ATM in the bank over the road, chubbster.'"
The three men laughed.
"Speaking of blondes with big tits, you're not knobbin' Natalya are you?" asked Belgian.
"No." said Caramarin. "Do I look that stupid?"
"You don't want me to answer that, do you?" laughed Belgian but there was a hard edge to his voice. "Seriously, mate, that's one lady to leave alone. You get me?"
"Well, I'm not. Maiorescu only asked me to take her here and keep an eye on her. See you later." Caramarin hurried up the steps and into the gaudy world inside. Replayed the conversation in his mind. It worried him.
Worried him a lot.