Chapter 3

Curtis comes meandering out from his bedroom to find the air filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. His eyes open wide when he sees Yulia fully dressed, leaning against the island in the kitchen with a cup in her hand, and reaching for a second. “You Americans take so wake up. It is no wonder you cannot solve any crime.”

“This is early,” he fires back, reaching for the cup. “Besides, some of us didn’t get sleep with all that moaning you did.”

Yulia blushes slightly, fighting the thoughts that the man heard everything. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you sounded like you were having a nightmare,” he recalls. “You kept calling out Erlos. As far as I understand your partner was Alexei, so I’m willing to guess Erlos is the guy we’re after.”

“Erlos is not a man,” she corrects, her green eyes narrowing on Curtis. “You are way over head, as you Americans say, Detective Holden.”

“I’ve been over way over my head many times,” the man counters smartly. “This is America—you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen.”

“In Russia the shit is worse,” Yulia says, adding an edge of pride to her tone. “Criminals pay for protection. Scientists hide out and create the shit. Russia is big country, many places for people to hide.”

“America is big too,” he says, trying to match the pride in her voice.

“Yes, it is no wonder you cannot find your criminals,” she jabs.

“You’re the one that just said criminals are protected,” Curtis points out, believing to have the upper hand now.

“Yes, Detective Holden, I did,” she admits. “But I never said those criminals do not get caught. In Russia, making bribe will only save you a little time. In Russia we catch you no matter what.”

Curtis thinks about pushing the issue further and then decides not to. He knows this argument will get them nowhere, and if it continues ... if he has to partner up and keep an eye on the woman, he doesn’t need anything sour between them. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hand. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“I do not understand agree to disagree,” Yulia says. “Does this mean you are giving up? That does not sound like the American way, Detective Holden.”

“Curtis,” he says. “Look, Yulia...”

“We are professionals, Detective Holden,” she begins, effectively cutting the man off. “We are not comrades. I will address you as you will me.”

A little smirk presses to his lips. “Alright, Detective,” he says. “But I cannot go around calling you Detective Valerievna.”

“Why not?” she asks as the look of confusion warps her face.

“Because it is simply too long,” he says. “I mean imagine me going around saying, ‘What do you think, Detective Valerievna?’ or ‘See what we have here, Detective Valerievna?’ It’s quite a bit to say.”

“But that is my name,” the woman says, even more confused.

“I know that,” Curtis says, his smirk morphing into a full smile. “Which is why, if you insist on using titles and all that jazz, we’re gonna have to shorten that to say ... Detective Valeri...”

“I am Russian,” she asserts.

“Yeah... ?”

“I have Russian name, not some American one.”

“I know, Detective Valeri,” he repeats, grinning and turning on his heels. “Let me get dressed and we’ll go to the latest crime scene.”

“Detective Holden, I must insist that...” Her voice falls into silence as the door to Curtis’ bedroom shuts. Yulia is hot and more than ready to go into a whole new verbal smack down, but she cannot with a door between them.

“For the most part, everything seems as if the victims were comfortable with their attacker,” Curtis is saying as he leads Yulia through the apartment. “We only found two glasses of wine, which leads us to believe only victims were drinking. As for the cocaine, we’re not sure if their attacker did any with them. Both were loaded to their ears in coke.”

“Erlos did not,” she assures him.

“And you know this how?”

“He does not seek any worldly drugs or alcohol, Detective Holden,” she affirms. “He seeks sex and other things.”

“Like testicles and ovaries?” Curtis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, you can say that.”

“I sense there is more to that statement,” the man presses. “Care to explain a bit more?”

“I do not understand it,” she says. “I am detective not scientist.”

Curtis has dealt with criminals long enough to tell when someone is only telling half the truth. Rather than get into it with her here at the crime scene, he just lets it go for a later time. “Anyway, everything looks consensual. It looks like all three had a good time. Our attacker, Erlos, seems to have taken things a little farther and continued to have a good time while our victims didn’t.”

“They would not have known what would happen to them,” Yulia informs him. “Erlos makes sure that the pleasure never ends until they are dead.”

“Are our doctors missing something in the autopsy that we should be looking for?” he questions.

“What do you mean?” she asks. Her green eyes bore into his with the look of full innocence shining through them.

“I mean, is there some kind of experimental drug we should be looking for?” Curtis asks. His voice is on the edge of anger at playing these games with her.

“As I said, Detective Holden, I am detective, not scientist,” she reiterates.

“Curtis,” he corrects.

“Detective Holden,” she returns.

“Alright, Detective Valeri,” he quips with a grin. “How about lunch?”

“I am not hungry,” she says.

“Does the scene make you nauseous?”

“Not at all,” she says, returning his smile. “Russians have strong stomach. And we have stronger urge for other things.”

“Is this related to your need when I picked you up from the airport?” he asks.

For a moment Yulia looks like she doesn’t want to admit it, or even share the fact that he is hitting the nail right on the head. She doesn’t even understand it herself. Being a professional, never has she mixed her sexual desires with work. That has always been left at home, sitting there waiting for her return like a loyal dog. Now it is like a stray dog, hounding her—following her wherever she goes. “Yes,” she says almost quietly. I have small problem that needs to be dealt with.”

“I don’t know how you police deal with trauma in Russia,” he begins. “But you are more than welcome to talk to someone in the department.”

“Excuse me?” she asks. “What you mean by talk to someone?”

“Look, Detective Valerievna, I’ve been there before,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer, comforting tone. “I lost a partner six years ago. It tore me the fuck up. I started with alcohol and then then to drugs. I was lucky someone in the department helped me without reporting it. If not, I wouldn’t be standing here with you and you’d have some other schmuck helping you.”

Yulia looks at him inquisitively for a moment before it finally dawns on her just what he is talking about. “I do not take drugs,” she says with disgust, realizing that her need does seem a lot like the need for them. “I have need for...”

Curtis’ face changes quickly to understanding and then amusement. “I understand what you need. I knew a guy once that just couldn’t get enough. Poor sap ended up with a divorce because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

“What you talking about?” she asks, on the edge of denial and not understanding fully.

“Yeah, his wife gave it to him enough,” Curtis continues as if not ever hearing the question. “I don’t know, maybe his wife could understand his condition if he was only fucking women. But the guy had to have both. That just sent his wife over the edge.”

“I am embarrassed to...” Yulia starts to try and explain, figuring that maybe she can actually open up to someone. In Russia she dares not reveal any of what she is experiencing. But her in America, maybe she has the opportunity. She doesn’t get the chance to try though.

“Come on,” Curtis says. “I know just the place to take you. There’s a little massage parlor down in China Town. I know, it sounds cliché and a little corny, but trust me, it’s the best.”

Yulia is ready to argue, wanting to resist the urge deep inside her, but ultimately she just gives in to it—it’s a whole lot easier to do. “You been there before?” she asks.

Curtis grins from ear to ear. “Oh yeah,” he says. “They’ve got the best massages. I think you could you one.”

Yulia sits in a chair in the small room. Curtis had left her to get his own massage, leaving her in the waiting room. It wasn’t long before someone was selected for her and she was taken to a small, nondescript room with a single bed and chair. Standing a few feet away is a young woman named, Sun Ya, her hands by her side. She is wearing a school uniform and looking a little nervous.

Yulia is not at all nervous. If ever she was when in a situation like this with someone new, since that night she isn’t now. That night changed a lot of things for her. This is simply one of those things. “Sun Ya, are you wearing regulation school underwear?”

“Yes, Miss...” the girl blushes. She has had many clients that wanted her to dress a certain way, and even act a certain way, but she never had a request like the Russian woman’s before. She had never had anyone ask about regulation underwear when she dressed as a school girl before either.

“Well ... there is only one way to find out,” Yulia growls. “Lift your skirt and show me.”

Sun Ya looks a little embarrassed—foolish even—but she dutifully reaches down and lifts her skirt to her waist.

“Come closer,” Yulia demands. “I cannot see from here.” Sun Ya walks toward the woman, the hem of her skirt still in her hands until she is right in front of Yulia. “Those are not regulation.”

The woman had demanded plain white, cotton panties. The trouble is Sun Ya didn’t have any. So she grabbed the closest to them she could: a very pale blue pair of cotton panties. And even though this is all odd for her, the girl is completely and utterly soaked through them. “No, Miss.” Sun Ya looks demurely down in the appearance of being ashamed at this transgression.

Yulia leans forward, her face only an inch or so from the girl’s crotch. “Sun Ya, are these panties wet? Are you getting them all wet?”

There is a prominent spot where the girl’s juices have seeped into the material. Sun Ya blushes a deeper shade of red at the revelation that despite the client, she is aroused so much by the role play. For the moment though, she says nothing.