Trophy (Devilla-Roche and Greg Grey)

[greg grey]

Another squeeze on my arm: oh, this girl is so turning me on, and she totally doesn't even know it. She seems very..."touchy", very physically affectionate. I...I like that. And - it's good, it'll be good for "us", because I'm not naturally that way.

"Don't worry about the driving, really," I reassure her, trying to ignore the butterflies of arousal as we're pulling up to my house, "we'll make something work...let's just get you settled."

She is obviously excited, suddenly.

"Mr. Gray, this is a house?? This is your house?? So big! So huge for one man to live in. Is a good thing Milenka is here, help you fill up space in home."

"Yeah, definitely!" I laugh, "Kinda lonely, sometimes, living here by myself. It could use a woman's touch."

Well - I do have women in the house, from time to time. Cleaning ladies, chefs, my assistants, etc. I don't have any live-in staff, but I do know I need to talk to Milenka soon about, well, the "other women" in my life. Maybe it is very different here than in Kazakhstan, but I have a lot of women in positions close to me. From my driver, to staff helping around the house, to assistants and people at the offices. I'll need to make sure she knows none of these women are a threat to her here...and though I'd understand how she might feel nervous: good god, look at her. She makes every other woman look like a little girl.

But right now, as I pull up in front of my main entryway and stop the car, she's the one looking like an astonished young girl.

My house, I guess, can look rather dramatic. Definitely, I realize, to a poor girl from Western Kazakhstan. It's a low, meandering contemporary ranch set in and about the hillside. Designed by an architect who, I hear, is pretty well renowned. I dunno: I love it, I bought it several years ago. It's not too big that it screams "billionaire" but it has plenty going for it: awesome natural gardens, the pool, a nice mix of open areas and intimate spaces inside. A few extra bedrooms for guests...maybe children someday...Wait...is that what she meant by "fill up space in home"? >gulp<

Switching the car off, I pop out and jog around to her side: she's obviously been trained to expect a touch of chivalry, and I'm happy to oblige. I open her door, and try to keep from smiling too broadly in my enthusiasm as I extend my hand for her to take and say:

"Welcome to your new home, Milenka..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

"Yeah, definitely!" I laugh, "Kinda lonely, sometimes, living here by myself. It could use a woman's touch."

I chuckle at his words...but remind him again of my purpose...and I say it with glee, because I not only was raised to be a woman who serves her man, but I was trained by the Kollective to do that and more....
"Oh, not worry. Milenka has woman's touch. Will do fantastic job at making your house a real home. I bring order, keep kitchen, and will keep place nice and clean. I also chop wood, put in fireplace, and make fires. I take care of Mr. Gray and house. No worry, I do all. You see."

I watch as he gets out and opens the door for me...it is what I expect, what I know...I'm glad to see him do the things he should do for me...as all good husbands should do...know their place, know their function....not all men do, but Kazakhstan women expect this...

He offers his hand and I take it as I step out of the car, now towering above him...I don't mind shorter men, its not so bad....

He welcomes me into my new home...I don't know what comes over me, but with a grand smile, I decide to pick him up and carry him across the threshold...he's not too heavy either....I check to see that he has unlocked it...and then I turn the handle and kick the door open...I cross the threshold and hold him across my arms...
"Is wonderful house, am happy to be here. Don't worry, Milenka will make good wife."

 

[greg grey]

"..I also chop wood, put in fireplace, and make fires..."

I kinda giggle at that as I'm moving around the car to let her out...I know I have to keep from teasing her: so many things will be different to her here. You have to admit, though: that's adorable.

But - as I extend my hand to her, and she takes it to stand...adorable is no longer the word. Oh god, will this ever get -not- stirring, the sight of a beautiful woman standing to tower over you? She's gotta be...with the heels...8 or 9 inches taller than me. I look up at her, and hope I don't seem too starry-eyed...she's just so gorgeous. She looks so happy, giddy even...and she looks like she's coming in for a hug or an embr- whoah!

Before I can react I am suddenly in the air, picked up easily into Milenka's arms. Standing there in the driveway, she's swung me up into a cradle hold, and has no struggle in holding me as she beams down at me with a mega-watt smile and begins to step towards the front door.

"WhoahWhoahWhoah!" I laugh, looking around incredulously for anyone who might be witnessing this, "WhatAreYouDoing?!?"

In response I get only that dazzling smile: she's getting a kick out of this! I laugh again. She looks so proud, amazed with her own boldness suddenly, carrying me to my house and - as it unlocks automatically sensing the approaching keyfob in my pocket - opening the door. She seems incredulous herself - having lifted and carried me so easily - and amused, having found me so light.

And - god - I do feel...light. In her arms, I feel like I weigh nothing. Like she could pick up ten of me and have no trouble. I'm not used to...giving up control like this. And I'm suddenly aware of her strength. That sensation, and the soft heaviness of her chest pressing into my side, is incredible.

"...Don't worry, Milenka will make good wife."

she tells me, as we step into the foyer. Gazing up, I watch her look around, seeing the inside of her new home for the first time. I admit, the front entry into my house is pretty impressive: greeted by high ceilings in a nicely large space, visitors are immediately looking out through a wall of glass over the valley, and presented with steps down into the dramatic main living area of the house.

"I, uh <heh heh>, I'm sure you will," I laugh - trying not to sound nervous, "You're...strong, huh?" She's still holding me aloft, for god sakes....and I'm afraid she's going to start to catch onto the idea that I like it. She looks around the house, at least what she can see of it from here, with buoyant, almost childish amazement.

"Now, uh..." I continue, "you might want to put me down...or I might get used to this, ask you to carry me everywhere..." She looks down at me and smiles warmly. What is it in those eyes? "And, anyway, I should give you a quick tour of the house, the inside, before you lay down..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I slowly put him down as I gaze out into the house, not hearing his comment about how strong I am....
"Yes, I put Mr. Gray down."

Although tired, I cannot help but be in awe....
"Yes, ah yes. Quick tour, as you say, would be lovely."

Looking around and not at him, as almost if he doesn't exist, I follow him but keep my gaze on everything else....I think I'm going to like being here with Mr. Gray....so much money, such an amazing place to live, I think what other surprises are in store for me...

 

[greg grey]

After she - thankfully - puts me down, I'm able to collect myself. I feel a little more in charge of the situation again, not being held helpless or totally bathed in her warmth (and, let's face it, those industrial-strength phermones). As we take a few steps down into one of the smaller, more intimate living areas, I look back at her as I'm starting to give her a quick history of the house.



She seems suddenly a little overwhelmed, out of her element, gazing around at the home and furnishings. The design is based on natural materials: wood, metal, stone, glass. What I like about it is that it's both contemporary and organic at the same time.

As we move from this room into the more grand great area, the main "living space", I consciously stop myself from describing things like the huge, rough-hewn dining table, which seats 18 and made from rare brazillian hardwood. Or - when I point out the attached, open kitchen - I don't tell her that the ovens and other appliances are all from the finest French suppliers. Or that the art on the walls and the sculptures in their alcoves are worth as much as the house itself. I'm basically a little self-conscious of my own wealth, suddenly.

She takes a moment to stop at the wall of glass in the main great room that overlooks the valley, gazing out across the miles, the rolling landscape.

I take the moment to look at her from behind: jesus christ, that figure. She's...heroic in proportion. So tall. Her ass: big. Her legs: long. Shoulders: broad but feminine. Her waist: tiny, unbelievably so. And her long hair, partway down her back...I want to nestle into it.

Looking over the valley, she says something about its natural beauty. Still in my reverie, I agree: "Yes...beautiful view."

She looks over her shoulder, down at me, with an amused smile:



...and thanks me with a giggle.

Wait.

"N-no no no!" I exclaim, suddenly embarrassed, "I meant the...the hills! I m-mean- the...the...valleys." She's giggling coquettishly at me, tickled by by discomfit. I shake my head and laugh at myself, caught in the act. "Yes, yes, yes...it's ALL a beautiful view. Now, c'mon, let me show you the bedr-....uh...the other part of the house..."

I lead her partly back the way we came, down to the wing with the bedrooms, bathrooms, etc. I have a little library/media room along the way. We stop at the home gym I recently had redone, at the request of KOLECTV, anticipating her arrival...



"So, uh," I say, as we stand in the doorway, "since you obviously need something heavier than me to lift, the company asked for me to get a bunch of new equipment in for you. They were very specific. The dumbbells go up to 120 now, there's lots of free weights along with a new squat rack. We have two treadmills and ellipticals...in case you want a work-out partner...."

 

[riseofwives]

(Translated to English from the Kazakh)

FILE w-773-6

SUBJECT CASE 4533a

Kovalenko, Milenka
Akzhaik District

Patron: Gray, Greg (see File b-0002)
California, America

08:30H : Per both subdermal implant and mobile device GPS subject has achieved entry into patron's residence. Audio monitoring continues.

 

[Devilla-Roche]

"N-no no no!" I exclaim, suddenly embarrassed, "I meant the...the hills! I m-mean- the...the...valleys." She's giggling coquettishly at me, tickled by by discomfit. I shake my head and laugh at myself, caught in the act. "Yes, yes, yes...it's ALL a beautiful view. Now, c'mon, let me show you the bedr-....uh...the other part of the house..."

As I pass him by going back in the hall, I give him a sweet love tap on his cheek...
"Milenka understands." ~I continue to smile at him~ "Mr. Gray is very attractive when he is, how you say, embarrassed, no?"

Anyway, yes I can see why he is attracted to me....not only because he ordered me to be that way, but because he is American....he likes bigger women with big breasts and big derrieres...although I am, admittedly intrigued by his reaction, the way he is made to be nervous; very interesting indeed....I'll have to monitor some of his behaviors and see where this leads to...


Then he escorts me to the gymnasium....

"So, uh," I say, as we stand in the doorway, "since you obviously need something heavier than me to lift, the company asked for me to get a bunch of new equipment in for you. They were very specific. The dumbbells go up to 120 now, there's lots of free weights along with a new squat rack. We have two treadmills and ellipticals...in case you want a work-out partner...."

...and I light up...smiling again after hearing his little joke...
"Something heavier than you Mr. Gray. Is good joke, I get that one. See Milenka learns."

I don't hear his comment regarding the need of a workout partner...I go straight to the inclined bench press and put the weight on 200 pounds lay back and easily lift it up no less than eight times...then I get up and look around...then back at Mr. Gray....
"Oh yes Mr. Gray, is good gym for Milenka. I will train everyday, twice a day. Like Milenka did back home. Yes, this gym will keep Milenka in good shape. Keep Milenka healthy."

 

[greg grey]

"Mr. Gray is very attractive when he is, how you say, embarrassed, no?"

Well, good thing... I think, because as she pats me playfully on the cheek, I realize that I feel like an awkward teen, jittery with new hormones.

But it's something much deeper than just those hormones that goes into overdrive as I watch her enter the gym to sit at the incline machine, dial up to an ungodly amount of weight...and lift it a number of times, easily, as if she's just trying the equipment out for size.

"Oh yes Mr. Gray, is good gym for Milenka..."

My heart races in aroused trepidation as the question bubbles to the surface: My god...just how strong is this woman, exactly? As she walks back to me, looking around at the new equipment, I have a new respect for - a new understadning of - her almost frightening strength.

"I will train everyday, twice a day. Like Milenka did back home. Yes, this gym will keep Milenka in good shape..."

She has funny lilt to her voice, and a faraway look in her eye, as she says this - as if she means more than she is saying.

"Y-You do have good shape..." I remark, "uh, I mean, you seem very ...healthy..." I pause as she looks back at me, feeling my face burning a little, and I smile. "So - there I am. Embarrassed again. I...I guess I can't help but be 'attractive', huh?" She looks at me with unconcealed affection, her eyes sparkling with interest. She is so focused on me.

"I...I hear you really just started with your, uh, training...your lifting, and cardio, and all that," I continue, remembering back to a conversation with one of the physical trainers at KOLECTV. My heart is still beating quickly: man, this is turning me on. "They say you're going to keep getting stronger and stronger...but I had no idea you were already so...wow."

Head cocked to the side, she's still smiling curiously at me, with interest but also more than just a hint of pride at her new abilities.

"Looks like I'm going to...>heh heh<...need to get even more weights in soon..." I conclude, knowing we should move on. "C'mon...let's get you to your room..."

We move back out of the gym, two small hallways lead away.

"Down there...that's my room..." She takes a quick peek into the master suite, which has its own lounge area and spa alongside the sleeping quarters...



"...but your room...here: It's down this way...."

I show her to the bedroom where she'll be staying. It also has it's own well-appointed bathroom, and a little sitting area. Lots of closet space, too...



As her eyes widen with a smile and she steps into her room, I explain to her: "There is, uh, a separate little guest house, on the property...on the other side of the pool. It's got a little more space, so if you'd, uh...rather stay there, have a little more privacy, we can do that...but I just thought..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

"I...I hear you really just started with your, uh, training...your lifting, and cardio, and all that. They say you're going to keep getting stronger and stronger...but I had no idea you were already so...wow."

My head still cocked to one side, then I smile...
"Yes, well that is what KOLECTV tell me. They say, "Milenka, you will get stronger and stronger each day." Is nothing that Milenka can do about it."

I shrug my shoulders up and down and giggle aloud...

"Looks like I'm going to...>heh heh<...need to get even more weights in soon. C'mon...let's get you to your room..."

I laugh with him and then as we walk away from the gym...I slap my head on my forehead, laughing....
"Oh, Mr. Gray, Milenka gets joke. Need more weights, yes, I get joke."

I hit him on his backside....with a snicker....
"You are so funny, Mr. Gray. So funny."

Then we walk to his room...
"Is very nice." ~I look at him in a coy manner~ "Maybe you let me sleep in your bedroom, if I get scared of something or am lonely, yes?"

Then he shows me my room...with an unbridled enthusiasm...I almost dance, no hop around the room....
"Is just wonderful! Oh thank you Mr. Gray. Thank you! ~ I shake his hand and give him a kiss on the cheek~ "I stay here. No need for more privacy. Milenka will be happy. Don't you worry Mr. Gray, Milenka be fine." ~again I giggle in my happiness~

 

[greg grey]

"Is very nice...Maybe you let me sleep in your bedroom, if I get scared of something or am lonely, yes?"

"Oh, I'm not scary myself?" I ask, trying to match her friskiness with my own after her surprising, playful slap to my butt, "The big American billionaire? The guy who...uh..."

Words fail me as - once we step into her room - she begins to bounce around it, clapping her hands and squealing in excitement. I'm caught off guard at how animated her figure is, suddenly. Her breasts heave, up and down with each giddy hop, the mass of her chest heavy and utterly seismic under her top, jiggly and hypnotically fluid above its neckline. I have to avert my eyes: it's almost pornographic, how much her big chest bounces. Oh my god, this woman...I can't help but slowly bring my gaze back to her, watch her all but dance in joy and unknowingly (?) flaunt her awesome, womanly curves.

She kisses me on the cheek, assuring me she loves her room, and my face begins to bashfully burn again. Does she not know what little displays like this can do, now that she possesses this over-developed body? Or is she experimenting with it, like a newly-bloomed teenage girl might do under the eyes of men? "Y-you have a...nice little stereo system back there, it'll play anything you want..." I explain awkwardly, trying to compose myself, "you l-like to, uh, dance, I see..."

She's looking at me again, intently, her brilliant, sparkling eyes locked on mine and following my every word.

"I have, some uh, linens and, uh, towels all ready for you," I continue, obviously starting to ramble again in my nervousness, "for when you want to shower..."

Her smile is so beautiful, so warm and honest, that I'm actually a little overwhelmed. I break her gaze.

"B-but let me go, get your bag..." I stutter, "then you can relax, take a rest..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

"Don't be silly Mr. Gray, Milenka get her own bag, I make bed, you see."

As she her body moves past Gray, it shifts in such interesting ways...Milenka is like a pretty object to look at and appreciate, the way her breasts move up and down - even when viewing from her backside....and her hips and her derriere work together to make her, oh so womanly body look sexy without being overtly sexy....

Milenka returns, carrying her huge bag and her carry-on with such ease....she places them down and moves with her last bit of energy for the day....

With a bright smile on her face, her lips moist and glistening....
"I make bed, you no worry. You see, Milenka can do."

She grabs the linens and swiftly makes the bed...she moves about, her derriere jingling in those tight jeans of hers, just wanting to break free, but looking so sexy....somehow a mundane task such as making a bed can become quite interesting in the eyes of others....again, Milenka doesn't mean to do this...it is her body, so transformed, so curvaceous, so tall, and so beautiful....

Once the bed is made although morning in San Diego, Milenka knows her limits...with a yawn...
"Milenka will not ask for much. One thing I must need is sleep. Long flight. Gray understand, no?"

With that she falls on the bed, turns to her side and lays there in a slightly fetal position...she smiles at Gray....
"Maybe you wake Milenka up later. I leave up to you. Wake Milenka up for late lunch. Wake up Milenka more later and I make early dinner for you."

With that Milenka closes her pretty little eyes and falls fast asleep...

 

[greg grey]

In bed black bra smiling dancing:
http://stream1.gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs4/1593791_o.gif

With pole dancing no smiling:
http://stream1.gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs/576133_o.gif

Pink top:
http://www.bontheball.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/denise.gif

Running:
http://www.bontheball.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/denise-milani-running.gif


In Hot tub smile boobs in face:

In Hot Tub no smile blue suit:

p2:

p3 looking up:
GIFSoup

Blue Bik coming out of pool:
GIFSoup


from secretary, taking off white shirt, purple bra boob bounce

Yellow bikini:

Pink bikini dance:

Blue Bra head shake:

From illusions:
GIFSoup

Pink bra on bed:
GIFSoup

Formantera 1:
GIFSoup

Formantera 2:
GIFSoup

Formantera 3:
GIFSoup

Formantera4 (straps off):
GIFSoup

Zebra Bik on Beach:
GIFSoup

Bra Tryouts:
GIFSoup

Bra Tryouts2:
GIFSoup

Walking up stairs:
GIFSoup

Off with coat:
GIFSoup

Clean Up 1:
GIFSoup

Clean Up 2:
GIFSoup

Clean Up 3:
GIFSoup

 

[greg grey]

I leave Milenka to sleep, and fall into a leather chair with my laptop next to the window in the reading room. Though I promised myself I wouldn't work today, I have my daily emails I can work on - I always have emails I can work on.

I find my mind wandering, though, continually led astray by the recent memories of Milenka. Making the bed, bouncing about the room, kissing me on the cheek. I take a moment, in fact, to close my eyes and lean my head back, imagining what it would have been like to take her by the waist and pull her down onto the bed with me...it takes all my will to keep from touching myself at the thought. The thought of her sitting atop me, peeling off that tight, white shirt...

My heart starts to race, and I know I have to get out of here, divert myself in other ways. Or else I'll find myself unzipping my pants, right here and now...

...I check on the pool, the adjoining hot tub. They're spotless, crystal clear. The pool guys were just here recently. They don't need cleaning. But I decided to swim a bit...as I paddle through a few laps, my mind drifts to her hips, how the curve of them looked in her tight jeans as I left her lying on the bed...Even as I swim, I start to get hard...stop.

...I dry off and enter the gym through the sliding door in from the pool deck area. I look around at the new equipment, and sit on the incline machine. I make an attempt to lift the same amount of weight she had so easily pressed a short time ago - I might as well have been trying to move a mountain. I can't budge it, not even a bit. I think back to how she looked, so effortless, and how it felt to be hoisted by her as she carried me into the house earlier. I look around the gym, imagining her at the other equipment, how she'd look at the squat rack. On the treadmill. The cable-row or chest-fly machine. I try to distract myself with a little workout...but I can't help but picture it...

...and so I leave the gym, and head to the kitchen. There, finally, I'm able to distract myself for a couple hours. She offered to prepare a meal, but I do fancy myself a pretty decent cook, when the need arises...

Finally, around mid-afternoon, I head back to Milenka's bedroom. I knock, lightly, on the half-open door to announce myself, but get no response. I walk into the room: she's still asleep, turned away from me.

I sit on the bed, next to where she lays, above the sheets, and take a moment to admire her. God, what curves. The sweep and rise of her hips, shoulders, legs. She's sleeping soundly - it must feel like the middle of the night to her - but I know it'll be best for her jet-lag if she's able to wake up now. I place my hand on the back of her shoulder...

"Milenka?" I say, gently, to rouse her. But even as she begins to wake, I start to feel it, the effects of her, her phermones...they've filled the room, and are washing over me...I try to put it out of my mind, the strong arousal that grips my belly, and call to her again...

"Milenka..?"

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Roused by Gray, Milenka slowly comes out of her slumber....
"Ummmm." ~stretches her arms and gives a grand smile at Gray....

"Ummm, Milenka feel much better. Sleep does me good. Thank you."

Then she sits herself up, her lovely breasts jiggle quite nicely...
"What is time? Is dinner now? I make, I make, you let me, yes. ~ again Milenka smiles with a glow of beauty around her whole face~

 

[greg grey]

I try to keep from goggling as she stretches her arms, putting her big breasts on display as they stretch her shirt. I keep my eyes locked in her face, so as not to leer. But that is no less of a spectacle: she is so pretty as she sits, hair tousled from sleep.

"It's about 4 o'clock now," I say, drinking in her smile and breathing in her light perfume. Man, this girl would be so easy to drown in. "I already made us a little pasta dish...I didn't want you working too hard already, your first day here."

I know, though, her instinct to serve, her embedded drive to cook, feed, provide for me. "But I thought you could make the salad," I offer, resisting the urge to brush a stray, thick lock of hair from her face, "or we could do that together, maybe you could make dessert..?"

Suddenly this moment is, at least to me, almost overwhelmingly intimate. I feel an uncanny magnetism working on us, pulling her to me, me to her, sitting in bed like this. Her smile is wide, so gorgeous, expectant and full of promise.

I stand. "I'll...uh...give you a few minutes to wake up..." I say as I back out of the room, "I'll be in the kitchen..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

"It's about 4 o'clock now. I already made us a little pasta dish...I didn't want you working too hard already, your first day here. Or we could do that together, maybe you could make dessert..?"

 

[Devilla-Roche]

"It's about 4 o'clock now. I already made us a little pasta dish...I didn't want you working too hard already, your first day here. Or we could do that together, maybe you could make dessert..?"

Milenka gets up, ready for anything...
"Mr. Gray. No worry. Milenka make salad and desert. Pasta dish sound fine."

She practically runs to the kitchen with such an odd swiftness...once in the kitchen she begins with Gray....
"Here Mr. Gray, you sit. You watch Milenka."

No nonsense and yet also very playful, she sits him at the table, her arms on his shoulders forcing him into the chair...she smiles....
"Is good, no? Of course good, you watch Milenka work."

Milenka, as if by luck, seems to know her way around the kitchen as if she has been here many times before....she moves swiftly, but gracefully at times, singing some songs in her native tongue...her smiles seem to warm up the whole room, she is very positive....

After a simple salad is "whipped together" Milenka starts to make a dough, flour, sugar, and some other ingredients...she rolls the doll and cuts it into 2" squares...then she finds walnuts, chops them up and makes a filling with them....she then takes the squares or "fritters" and fries them in some oil and finishes them up...

Again, with swiftness , the table is made, the pasta is set out, a pitcher of water and glasses are set on the table, as is the salad and the fritters which sit on a plate and fill the room with a heavenly aroma....

Finally, Milenka takes a seat opposite him, again with that gorgeous smile....
"Hope Mr. Gray likes. Salad, your pasta and these." ~points to the fritters~ "These called samsa. Is dough with walnut filling. Is good. You like. Milenka makes good samsas. Mother taught Milenka how to cook samsas when I was younger."

Milenka waits for Gray to pick up his fork and start eating first out of revered respect for him as her future husband....

 

[greg grey]

It's almost uncanny, watching Milenka in my kitchen. Though it's new to her, she moves with such confidence and assuredness, like she is suddenly in her natural environment. Chopping, mixing, cleaning. I know she's had a lot of training, over the past few months. But she looks more like she was made for this, built for this, created for this - rather than just taught this.

I praise her skills openly, which makes her smile. She tells me of learning her way around a kitchen by her mother. And then how important those skills became when her mother died young, leaving Milenka - still a young girl - to cook for and feed her father and her several brothers. She left school before the age of fourteen to help keep the home running, and to start work.

I ask about and she tells me more of growing up in rural Kazakhstan. Life sounds like it was tough, so different than my own. But she tells me everything with a smile, with no complaints. Even more - I can tell she's leaving out the really bad stuff.

And so we get back to the food, as I continue to fight the gravitational pull her cleavage seems to have on my eyeballs.

"Wow - if this whole 'married to a billionaire' thing doesn't work out," I comment wryly, though immediately hoping she'll get my sarcasm, "you should get your own cooking show..." I also immediately hope that she doesn't take that the wrong way. As in: forget Giada or Nigella...America would love to watch you jiggle, as you whip them up something tasty on their TV screens. Jeez...imagine the ratings?

I ask her more about how she likes to cook, what she likes to cook, her favorite recipes. I make mental notes of ingredients I'd like to get shipped in for her, so she can prepare meals she knows from back home. Cooking is a little hobby of mine, and maybe this is something we can have in common.

Anyway...soon Milenka has the table set, the food served in front of me. She waits for me to try the salad, expectantly - but first, I remember:

"Hey, where are my manners?" I announce, as I stand suddenly, "We need to have a toast." I push my chair back, leaving her to sit at the table as I head to the wet bar a few steps away in the great room. I return with a handful of bottles.

"What would you like? We have red wine, white..." I offer, "or - maybe more appropriate for the occasion - you tell me! - this nice Russian vodka?"

 

[Devilla-Roche]

She thinks about his wry comment...even if Milenka's English were better, she probably would get the joke anyway....all she can say is...
"Yes, cooking show. America is so fascinating that they show people cooking on TV and other people watch. I Like to cook with my Mother, but would be bored, how you say, bored to death, if I just watched."

-----------------

Milenka, then watches Gray do his best to be a gentlemen...it is one thing she likes about him, he is so nice....

Then he returns with the wine and the vodka...
"You have Russian vodka. Please. Milenka drink vodka like water in my country."

 

[greg grey]

"Like water, hm?" I say, filling the tall glass jigger I'd pulled from the chiller behind the bar about halfway with clean, clear, spirit. It's slightly viscous, from its time in the freezer, and some of the best vodka money can buy. "Good thing I bought a case of this stuff," I continue, as I pour myself a half-shot, "Anyway - a toast..." I raise my glass and sit back down at the table, close to her, "...to a new life, and many years of happiness here in the U.S.!"

In a single swallow, we each down our drinks and smile. She giggles cutely as a my eyes bulge a bit: wow, strong stuff! Milenka, on the other hand, seemed to handle it no problem, and immediately refills our glasses. "I think I'm in trouble," I laugh, as I watch her down another behind sparkling eyes and an amused smile: is this a challenge? I draw a deep breath and do the same.

Thankfully, we next take to eating rather than drinking, though she is quick to fill our glasses when they are emptied - another several times during the meal. I'm glad for the drink: I feel less nervous, less anxious with a little lubricating, and our talk comes easy. We talk of the meal, which is delicious - her salad dressing is unusual but really tasty, full of dill and garlic. She takes the compliments well, and I think I actually see her blush.

I sense the vodka also is making her a little more comfortable, as she asks me freely about myself, about my family. I tell her of the boat accident, how I am basically the only one left of a large clan. She is empathetic, but her smile is so warm and the tragedy far enough in the past that the conversation isn't melancholic in the least. She asks to see photos of my parents, which I show her: framed portraits from the library. My mother was a model in her younger years - a trophy wife, I guess, to my dad - tall, a striking brunette. And my father looked, well, kinda like me. She compliments both.

We eat, lingering over dinner and becoming progressively more tipsy. I am definitely more open and talkative than usual, and she's become quite giggly, at times like a schoolgirl. At some point, as the sun outside begins to fade, I turn on some pop music along with subtle lighting throughout the house. She's no intellectual, but she's easy to talk to and certainly a pleasure to watch as she bounces to the music or tosses her hair in laughter.

Though I, with my alcohol-fueled wit, have her tittering with glee, my jokes and her giggles fade at one point and a silent moment takes hold. We smile at each other, and in my pleasant, building inebriation, I have an immediate suggestion:

"How 'bout a little drinking game?" I ask, standing to jog over to the bar again for four more glasses. She watches me with interest, smiling at me as I sit again and start to pour us each three shots. "It's easy, a game of questions," I explain, "we ask the other person three things, and we can decide to either answer each question or take a shot for any question we don't want to answer." Though still smiling, Milenka's eyes narrow at me in amused distrust. I laugh. "Here, I'll go first - they'll be easy, don't worry:"

I put the bottle down: we each now have three half-jiggers of vodka in front of us. "What's your favorite movie?" I begin, thinking of things I'd like to know about her, things that weren't in her KOLECTV file, "How many boyfriends have you had?" I continue, "And...what's your idea of a perfect date? Answer those, or drink...then it's your turn to ask..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Milenka looks at him, making a sort of funny face with those stunning thick lips as she thinks....
"If Milenka had to pick favorite movie, I think Marilyn Monroe. 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' movie or any movie by Marilyn Monroe. She was beautiful. Very beautiful. Blonde hair, giggly way like Milenka. Milenka look up to her. Also, she is everything American to me."

Milenka stops to pause and looks and Gray and then down at the glass of vodka...she picks it up and swigs it down quickly....she too is feeling a bit loose, but it will take an enormous amount of vodka to get her drunk, as in the whole bottle....which is what it would take to get such an answer from her...Milenka is gorgeous now, but she was thin and not that pretty before this whole KOLECTV thing...she's embarrassed about going into her past and her lack of boyfriends.....

On the last question....
"Perfect date? Skiiing up north in Russian mountains with fur coat and vodka and fire place was a perfect date. But, now Mileka in America. In California. Milenka would still like fireplace and vodka. Maybe trade fur coat for beautiful lingerie and wear it for someone special." ~ she stares at Gray coyly and then looks away, down at the vodka and takes a drink anyway, actually, she drinks the last one too~

Refreshed after swigging down the vodka....
"Now Milenka's turn. Ah, let's see, Milenka must think." ...she thinks then giggles ferociously and then speaks..... "What does Gray feel like being rich?" "What is favorite thing Gray owns?" "And, do Mr. Gray like Milenka?" ~with the last question, as she says it she places her hand on his knee~

 

[greg grey]

"Three good questions..!" I remark, trying to force out of my mind the images of her lounging in lingerie in front of an alpine fireplace and of her giggling over a subway grate in a wind-blown white dress. I'm also fighting, in my tipsiness, to ignore the casual hand she's placed on my knee...and the equally intoxicating fragrance wafting from her body and all over me. I could certainly feel the intimacy slowly building between us over these past couple hours, and I know what I want to do...I planned on doing this tonight...

...I check, again, the square little lump in my pocket, making sure it's still there...

"But, hey - it's nearly sunset," I say, "want to take our little game outside for a walk out to the pool?"

She agrees and as we both stand, she wobbles a bit, whether from the drink or those high heels. Giggling flirtatiously, she allows me to help steady her, placing her hand on my shoulder. Our eyes meet warmly and I grab the bottle and take her hand to lead her through the wide glass doors to the pool patio. The late September sun is setting in its usual, magnificent way over the hills in the distance, and the light has dropped to dusk.



"So...what does it feel like being rich? What is my favorite thing that I own?" I repeat, getting back to our game as we stroll, slowly, around the pool. The lights have come on in the water, illuminating it to glow a rich aquamarine. With me at the pool's edge, we walk side by side. Man, she makes me feel short..!

"And, what was your last question again?" I feign, swinging my gaze up to meet hers questioningly, <imitating her accent...poorly> 'Do Mr. Gray like Milenka?' "

Her eyes flash in mock anger, her mouth dropping open in false offense at my teasing, and with a sudden move she retaliates with a strong bump of her significant hips.

"What th-...Hey!"

oh no.

I don't even totter, not for a second - I'm going straight in.

<SPLASH!>

Before I know it, I'm in the pool. And not in the shallow end, either. I'm under water, and have to kick myself back to the surface. My head and shoulders pop back up and now it's my turn to be indignant.

"What was that for!" I laugh, blowing water from my face as I sweep my hair off it with my one free hand and start to treading water. She's looking down at me, from the pool's edge, and laughing herself silly and speechless.



She claps and bounces, obviously tickled pink with herself. I turn from her and paddle - being careful to hold aloft the half-full vodka bottle, which I somehow had the clarity of mind to plug with my thumb during my fall - towards the shallows, where I can stand.

I turn back to her, still giggling at the pool's edge about twenty feet away. She's bent over, hands on her knees. "Pretty funny, right?" I say, amused at my own chagrin and trying not to goggle at the blossom of cleavage bursting from her top, "You totally did that on purpose, didn't you?"

She shakes her head prettily, raven mane falling over her face. She pushes it back with one hand to fix me again with her brilliant green eyes.

"Suuuure...sure..." I say, narrowing my eyes in good humor. I stand on a slope, in about five feet of luminous water. "Well...if you want me to answer your questions," I continue, smiling <holding the bottle up to her and again playfully imitating her accent> "Milenka must get in too. Must jump into pool..!"

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Milenka giggles precociously at the whole scene and Gray's imitation of her own accent....then she takes away her hands from her mouth, still with a giggle....
"You make for bad Milenka, but I give you A+ for trying."

Without any hesitation, Milenka dives right in the pool...
~splash~
...her form is fantastic, almost as good as an Olympian, as she comes to the surface she swims, her strokes masterful, her breathing well controlled...Milenka can swim for hours if need be, of course Gray doesn't know this about her...she stops, comes up, and is in front of Gray...they are now the same height due to the water....

Milenka's hair is wet and shiny, the light bounces off the droplets that roll down her face and neck...

With a gleaming smile....
"I come in water. Gray must answer Milenka's questions."

 

[greg grey]

I watch her dive - still laughing, fully clothed, but totally gracefully - into the pool, and in several strong, athletic strokes she crosses the pool. She surfaces out from the water, dripping, right in front of me. Tilting her head back into the water, her hands smoothly sweep her long, dark hair back, sleekly. I smile, but I'm a little startled at how close she is, face-to-face.

Smiling broadly, she takes a few deep breaths from the exertion but is quickly composed, and gazing right into my eyes. With the slope of the pool, and with her having stepped out of her heels before diving in, we are eye-to-eye, standing up to our chests in the warm water.

"So, your questions..." I say, the vodka in me maintaining my relaxed smile though mere inches separate us, and our chests nearly touch from the swell of hers, "yes, yes, yes..."

And so, with a bit of chagrin, I can feel it happening...I'm stiffening in my pants, my nine inches swelling in my shorts, up towards my belly. Being as large and thick as I am, this is often uncomfortable for me fully clothed.

But I try to ignore it - it will just make what I want to do now more difficult, and the time is perfect to say what I have to say.

"I like you, yes, Milenka - very much," I begin, hoping my eyes are as heartfelt as my intentions, and not just mirroring the lust in my loins, growing with the closeness of her body, the immediacy of the moment, her eyes now glimmering in excitement. "Th-that's one question, right?" I lamely joke, my voice cracking and starting to betray my nervousness. She is just so beautiful, the light from the pool shimmering blue, like liquid itself over her. Her gaze is expectant, and urges me to go on.

I think, for one brief second, that it would be easier to down the shots of vodka than to keep talking. But, nope - I continue.

"I l-like you a lot, I almost can't believe you're real, here with me...." I say, my one free hand drifting down to again check my pocket - making sure it's still there. "And that's....that's, I guess, what 'being rich' feels like, at least to me: being able to have what you want. Being able to imagine something, fantasiz-" I catch myself. "...uh...really want something...and then get it, make it happen. Not just....dream."

I look into her eyes, knowing that her life has been so different than my own. That the wealth which I've grown up knowing is completely an alien thing to her.

"The favorite thing I own, though? It's probably something those things that I didn't buy...something that means more..." I say, my hand now fumbling into the pocket of my khaki shorts, baggy but now sodden and stuck to me. I am able to grab onto the small black box, though, with two fingers. Her brows furrow in question as I start to struggle to draw it out.

"Here, hold this," I say, handing her the vodka bottle so I can use two hands to..."Ah! There!" I pull the little jewelry box from my pocket, finally, and draw it above water. It's velvet shell is soaked, of course, but I'm sure its contents are fine. "Something like this..."

I snap open the little box to reveal a single ring. Antique platinum, with a central diamond and a number of smaller stones surrounding it.



It's not a huge gem; my money could have bought one many times larger. But that's not what's important:

"My great grandfather, when he was first starting out, before he'd built his shipping business, used the first money he scraped together from working his first boat - delivering supplies to fishermen up and down the coast, hard work - to buy this. For the girl he loved. My great-grandmother. He had it made for her, for their engagement..."

Milenka's eyes are warm with excitement, gazing down at the ring.

"So, it's been passed down, from son to son...my own father gave it to my mother. She wore it, and now..." I pull the ring from it's slot, and toss the box aside with a little <splash> into the water, "I want you to have it..."

I take her by the hand and - knowing it will fit perfectly, I'd asked KOLECTV for her finger size - slip the ring onto her fourth finger.

"So the things that my money has brought me..? My favorite? Well, there's things like this. And now, of course....there's you."

She looks up at me.

"I know what you've given up to come here," I continue, looking again into her eyes. I try to ignore, now, her quickening breath, and how her drenched, now skin-tight shirt is plastered over her incredible torso, "and I know I have a commitment to make to you. So, I guess it's my turn...as we stand here, drenched..."

With a crooked smile I look at the bottle she holds, forgotten, and then back to her. "My first question to you, Milenka: will you be my wife?"

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Milenka gasps and places her free hand over her heart...she is still trying to process all of Gray's words...she looks down at her ringed finger....she knew she was here for him, she knew she was being manufactured and tailored to his wants and needs.....to serve him...to be a traditional wife...but a girl, if she's lucky, gets a marriage proposal at least once in her life and this was Milenka's turn....arranged marriages were still very much a custom where she's from...this was a bit different...she volunteered for the program, she knew what she was getting into...she had half of a choice...when she first saw Gray on the monitor and spoke to him she could have bowed out, but she didn't...she knew that looks weren't everything, she knew that the new life he could give her was a form of love, so Milenka had a deep fondness for him before she even got off the plane....now, he was asking her to marry him...her emotions were now running high....she smiled and tears were rolling out of her eyes at the same time...

"Yes!! Milenka to marry Gray."

With that, she kisses him on each cheek then on his lips, her strong arms wrapping around him...she does the same with her legs and like a human python has him tightly up against her body...she forgets her own strength sometimes and they passionately share this embrace....