A large wall mounted Plasma television screen flickers then fades to a razor-sharp full color image of a one-room apartment sparsely furnished in tasteless green. Lieutenant General Viktor Yezhov leans forward in his chair to watch. Codenamed Cold Juice, Viktor’s eyes dominate his distinctive and manly presence. They’re colorless eyes . . . cold eyes . . . a spy’s eyes. APARTMENT 27B, GRU OPERATIVE’S HOUSING. A scratchy, warbling rendition of Elvis’ ‘Love Me Tender’ drones from an aging three-speed record player. Stretched along one entire green wall are makeup tables and clothes racks jammed with the latest in diva-wear sewn by the classiest designers in Paris, Roma, and America. Dominika’s lungs jerk in a sharp involuntary breath as Sveta’s hand slides underneath the loose pale blue chopped muscle-shirt she wears. Sveta’s gentle touch makes her eyes drift closed. Between her legs, a miniscule pleasure-drop balloons in response to Sveta’s soothing all-knowing breast play.. “You’re not going to tell me that you’ve gone back to being your old self are you Wren?”“No, but you do realise that those young men are at least fingering that girl don’t you?”“And is that a problem for you Wren?” Aryn asked.“When is it my turn?” Wren asked.“That’s my girl. Do you want to go before Emily, or after her?”“Before her, I think.”“Good girl. Let’s head over there, the man said that the girl only has 10 minutes to go, and you both need to get those vibrators out before you have your go.”We walked over and as soon as we saw the girl’s face it was obvious that she was enjoying whatever the young men behind her were doing to her. They weren’t fucking her, unless they had 50 centimetre long cocks, but their hands were all over her, one was even reaching round and playing with her tits, another occasionally giving her butt a loud swat.I just hoped that those young men would still be around when it was my turn.Both Wren and I then went round a corner to where no one was, then.
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