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The party continues into the lower deck. Sergey starts to dance with the other girls while I hang back and make sure no one asks about General Zhukov. I check my watch. One hour has passed.
A couple of the girls start to leave the party with the bodyguards. Sergey is really plastered. Hopefully, he will be down for the count any minute now. I walk out of the room and look for more bottles of liquor. I am determined to give that spoiled little as**shole alcohol poisoning before this night is over!
I grab as many bottles as my arms and hands can possibly carry. As I walk back into the disco room, I see a woman run out in sheer terror. Oh f**k! What’s going on now. I notice that the music is off. I enter the room and see Sergey, with his shirt off, holding a revolver in his hand.
One of the frightened women is just standing there in the room. She looks like she is about to cry. “You will not play for 300,000 Euros?! Alright, I pay you 400,000 Euros!” Sergey yells.
I have no idea what he is talking about. All I know is that the young woman is about to cry. Suddenly, she runs out of the room. Sergey turns his eyes to me. He points the gun at me and motions for me to come over to him.
My feet feel like they are glued to the floor. “Come! Come!” Sergey yells. I drop one of the bottles. Then, I slowly move towards the dictator’s son. “Put down the bottles,” Sergey orders. I place the vodka bottles on a sofa.
Sergey sits down at a table and orders me to sit in one of the other seats. I sit down. Sergey cradles the gun. “I want to you to play me in Russian Roulette,” the young maniac says. I panic. The young man puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. *click.* The gun dosen’t go off. He hands the weapon to me and growls, “Put that gun to your head and pull the trigger.”
“No,” I say.
“I will pay you 300,000 Euros,” Sergey offers.
“No.”
“400,000 Euros.”
That’s it. I can’t do this. I stand up from the table. Sergey grabs my wrist. “Sit down!” he yells. I sit down. I look at the gun. Tears start to roll down my cheeks. My boss is depending on me. I pledged to give my life for Mr. Peak. I pick up the gun. It’s heavy. I bring it slowly to my head. I close my eyes. I pull the trigger. *Click.*
“Ha! Ha!” Sergey yells as he grabs the gun. He puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. Sergey pulls the trigger again and again and again. “There were no bullets in the gun! All those dumb women ran out of the room crying! They are stupid whores!” Sergey screams.
The dictator’s son looks at me and smiles. He reaches over and grabs my hand. “You are not afraid to fight. You are not afraid to challenge me,” Sergey says as he looks into my eyes. The young man stands up and kisses my hand. “I choose you to be my woman,” Sergey says. Oh, lucky me.
He pulls me up and holds me close. Then he whispers into my ear, “I will make you the Princess of Odostan. A nation will bow before you. Do you know how it feels to force an entire nation of people to bow before your feet?”
I don’t know if this guy is sincere or drunk. Right now, I would much rather prefer him to be drunk. So I whisper into his ear, “The more you drink, the sexier you get.” Just for the record, this may be the first time, in recorded history, a woman has ever said that to a man.
I get up from the bed and walk back to the disco room to grab four bottles of the vodka. When I come back into the bedroom, Sergey is stripped down to his jockey shorts. Alright, I really don’t need this night to get any more f**ked up.
“Come here with my vodka woman!” Sergey yells. He grabs my arm. The bottles spill all over the bed. Sergey grabs one of the bottles and begins to drink. And when I say drink, the guy just gulps down that vodka like it’s water.
I’m just waiting this guy to pass out. It is 2:00 a.m. One more hour to go. The dictator’s son begins to sing some songs in his native language. At least, I am as**suming he is singing in his native language. He could be slurring gibberish for all I know.
For a moment, I think about just ditching Sergey. After all, this guy seems too drunk to know that the General is off with Mr. Peak. My boss, however, specified that I keep the dictator’s son occupied until 3:00 a.m.
Sergey reaches over for a remote control. He turns on a big plasma screen on the wall. The screen begins to display some hardcorn po**rn. Oh great, this situation is not any better. The dictator’s son grabs me and tries to give me a kiss.
Against my better judgement, I make out with him. I’m hoping that maybe he would just pass out, sooner or later. He grabs my as**s. I put up with that. He tries to reach for my bre**asts. I swat his hand away. Sergey begins to laugh.
