Dmitry's Closet by Nelson, S. (read people like a book .txt) 📕

“It’s just that I’m worried about your overall happi-ness,” he whined sarcastically. “Happy employee is productive employee.”

Royal leaned forward, taking the power from Dmitry and using his same mannerisms to drive her point home. “Poor Dmitry. Do you consider sex to be happiness?”

“Do you?” Dmitry asked, finally having fun with Royal. He waited on baited breath for her to liven up; now here was a glimpse of it. The woman hiding inside of the shrew.

“No. I don’t consider sex to equal happiness,” she said curtly.

“Nyet?”

Royal smirked. “No. Happiness cannot be defined by such a physical pleasure when happiness itself is so abstract – so intangible.”

“Well now. Look at little philosopher. I never said that I considered sex to be happiness, I asked if you did.” Dmitry chuckled.

“What do you consider to be happiness?” Royal was finally curious.

“Control.” His tone was sincere.

“Control?”

“Did I stutter? Such a thing is also intangible.” He half chuckled.

“That’s just such an S&M answer.”

Dmitry laughed. “Your choice of words amuses me. Okay, maybe it’s the loss of control. Either way, the control is going to land in someone else’s lap.”

He leaned further into her, close enough to smell the sweetness coming from her breath and the heat eradiating from her body. He wanted to suck her scent into his nostrils and grab her, rip her clothes from her limbs and take her in the back of the limo, but he settled for thumping her nose.

“What do you know about anything, eh? You’re girl…and barely that,” he whispered.

Royal’s smile quickly crooked, and she snatched back in the corner of the seat. Dmitry could see it. She was incensed. She wanted to tear him limb from limb for mocking her, and he really didn’t care. Anger was closer to sex than glib calmness.

“I’m not a girl,” she said, defensively.

“Of course, you are,” he said, patronizing her and en-joying every minute of it.

“I am a grown woman!” she protested.

Her ponytail and the soft hair flirting around the nape of her neck and the front of her ears caused her to look more like a teenager than a woman in her twenties, but the excitement that caused her blood pressure to rise and her nipples to harden seemed more sinister to Dmitry than child’s play. He licked his lips.

“Calm down, Royal. I’m just fucking with you,” he said, sitting back, happy to have gotten a rise out of her.

He stopped smiling. His face was like wet ice, glistening and chiseled. He rubbed his hands through his blonde wavy curls and raised his eyebrow at her. “But you don’t like to be fucked with, do you?” He breathed calmly.

There was complete silence for a moment.

“No,” Royal said finally, realizing that there was some-thing off about Dmitry. “I don’t.”

The car stopped, and Royal found herself in front of large white Plantation-style home. Anatoly parked quickly, jumped out of the car and opened the door for Dmitry with the umbrella eagerly awaiting his demanding boss.

“Are you sure that you want to stay in car?” Dmitry asked, before he got out.

“Positive,” Royal said, looking at Anatoly curiously, wondering if he did everything that Dmitry told him.

“Well, I’ll only be minute.” He stepped out of the car and stopped. Leaning back in, he smiled cleverly. “Should I wear jeans for your movie, Royal?”

“If you’d like,” Royal said absently.

“See, the control thing isn’t so bad is it?”

Royal smiled but didn’t say anything. Anatoly closed the door softly, and she sat back in the car feeling sleep overtake her. She wished now that she had stayed in the bed.

She listened to the storm rock the city with wind, heavy rains and lightening as she waited. Curiously, she looked out the window across large gated lawn undisturbed by the late night rumblings. Security guards with dogs walked the perimeter of his property even in the rain, while Anatoly stood on the porch watching her and waiting for Dmitry. Rich people, she thought as she sat back in her seat. They are so freaking dramatic.

She closed her eyes finally and relaxed her head on the leather, feeling the warm seats caress her body. She had nearly gone to sleep when Dmitry arrived back. As the door opened for him, rain quickly rushed inside, dam-pening her face. He jumped in with a pair of dark jeans and a blue v-neck top, looking the most casual that Royal had ever seen him.

“Hope I wasn’t long,” he said, taking a swig of the Fos-ter’s beer that he carried with him.

“Actually, I dosed off there for a minute.” Royal sat up in the chair. “You look…great. Like a walking Ralph Lauren advertisement.” She nodded.

“A compliment? It seems that we are making progress, Royal,” Dmitry saidas he tapped her knee. “Anatoly, let’s go,” Dmitry instructed keeping his eye on Royal. The car started, and they pulled off.

Royal watched Dmitry curiously but did not speak.

“I’ve called in favor to have Paradiso movie theatre all to ourselves tonight. It closes in hour. I was hoping that we could have dinner at restaurant first and go over there for late showing of whatever you want to see,” he offered checking his Blackberry.

“After it’s closed? Are you serious?” She grabbed the phone from him and put it into the side compartment of her seat. “Stop with that phone. It’s weird a.m. hours. Can’t whomever it is wait? You are the boss, remember?”

“Fine, but only if you take off tomorrow. You work too hard anyway. People probably think it’s me working you, but it feels like the other way around. Just…just hang out with me tonight and spend tomorrow in the bed or doing whatever introverts like you do.”

“Alright,” she sighed, giving in. “I haven’t been to your restaurant since I was hired. I’m excited. And I never have had a movie theatre stay open just for me. That’s pretty cool.”

“You should come over to restaurant more and have lunch or dinner. It will save you money.”

“Okay,” Royal said, moving her long