A Promotion for Her Husband 04

They stood in silence, facing each other and examining their own manicures.

"I didn't cheat..." his wife whispered. "I didn't want this. He just..."

There was no answer.

"Please, don't be silent." The girl sniffled. "Say something. Yell at me, at least. I stayed faithful to you. I didn't want any of this..."

"Your faithfulness is running down your legs."

"So is yours." She shot her husband an interested glance, the corners of her lips twitching involuntarily. "Did you like it that much? Did you like watching another... man do that to me?"

"I'm not made of stone. You two walking around here... naked."

"Forgive me. This is all my fault." She lowered her head again. "I'm the one who suggested it. I shouldn't have listened to you."

"No. It's my fault. And I'll never forgive myself for it. I sat there like a complete fucking idiot, watched you lose it, and... did nothing."

"Lose it?" The aristocrat raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"At the end. You were struggling when he was inside you... And I didn't help."

"Right... losing it." The intellectual pursed her lips. "Of course, there wasn't much pleasure in it. But what could you have done? Don't blame yourself, darling."

Anton felt the tender touch of his wife's familiar hand against his cheek.

"The Boss is a terrifying man. There was nothing you could have done."

"You noticed it too?"

"Of course. It's as if he's from another world." Thoughtfully, the girl ran a finger over her husband's chest. "Antosha, what if I have a baby? I don't have the same guarantee Sveta has."

"We both made this mistake. But a child can't be a mistake. I won't leave you."

The man pulled his wife close and gently embraced her, kissing the crown of her head.

His wife merely sniffled, tossed aside the belt that was getting in the way with a single movement, and pressed her naked body against her husband.

Anton wrapped his princess in the folds of his robe, as though shielding her from every misfortune in the world...

"I love you." The girl whispered, pressing her soft cheek against the hairy chest of the man she loved.

"And I love you, sunshine."

"Please, get me out of here."

"Don't want to go to China anymore?" the man allowed himself a touch of irony.

"His size is greatly overrated." The girl smiled sadly. "I'll just take a shower and wash this filth off... And I'll be going without panties, too. What a disgrace."

"And while you're showering, the Boss will come back. Come on, let's just go home."

His wife gave a little shrug.

"Whatever you say..."

***

The changing-room door suddenly flew open.

"Where exactly do you think you're going? The evening isn't over yet."

"None of your business!" Anton snapped, stepping in front of his wife. She had already put her dress back on and was slipping into her shoes.

"Well, well, we'll see about that." Sasha grinned maliciously and reached into his pocket. "I found a rather interesting little phone."

Two pairs of stunned eyes watched as the lost phone emerged from the pocket of his robe. The couple exchanged a hopeless glance, while their rival waved the device in his hand.

"Mashka, yours?"

The girl merely opened her mouth in confusion, but Anton recovered first.

He lunged forward. A blow beneath the arm. His other hand caught the phone as it fell.

"Thanks for finding it. We were already thinking we'd got a rat in the team." Smiling with relief, the man handed the lost phone to his wife. "Why didn't you give it back right away?"

"It's password-protected. Who was I supposed to give it to? And why are you so worked up?"

"I brought the girls here. That makes me responsible for their safety and the security of their belongings."

"Yeah, yeah. You're certainly the responsible one around here..." Sanya mused. "But here's the funny thing. I was walking through the lounge when I heard it--some robe was playing music. I'll admit, curiosity got the better of me. I wondered which of our lot had Vivaldi as his ringtone..." The young man paused dramatically.

In the complete silence, Anton's swallow could be heard beneath his rival's unwavering stare.

"And then I saw: 'My Love' calling. And guess who was in the picture?" Alexander continued, no longer bothering to hide his malicious grin. "Come on, take a guess! What are your options?"

"We have the phone. You can't prove anything."

"Are you kidding? Or do you really take me for an idiot who'd let a chance like this slip away? Remember what I told you at the table--that our little rivalry wasn't over?" The young man put on an exaggeratedly surprised expression. "You called quite a lot. Worried, were you? Good boy, Antoshka! I had time to take a few pictures with my phone and even shoot some video..."

"That's not proof!"

"The Boss isn't a detective. Suspicion will be enough for him. You're screwed, my friend. You made a whore out of your own wife, let the whole team have their way with her for hours, and then sat down at the same table with a man of his standing. Can you imagine what he'll do to you? Remember Anya, the secretary?"

Anton went pale. He remembered. Masha merely looked at her husband questioningly.

"Things ended badly for Anya," he answered her unspoken question. "She told the Boss to fuck off. A feminist... she was. Didn't like having male bosses. Then she quit of her own accord. A month later, someone spotted her on the highway..."

"What was she... doing?" the girl managed to ask.

"Working as a whore. Servicing sweaty truckers." Sanya burst into delighted laughter. "Can you guess who put her there? The same thing's waiting for both of you--you'll be learning to play the truckers' flute as a pair. What do you think, would a miniskirt suit Toshka?"

"What the hell do you want?! China?!" the man growled.

"Now that's what I call a business conversation. I want China. But not so fast. I've got you both on the hook now, and you'll do whatever I say. Clear?"

"Fuck you!"

"Okay." Sasha took out his phone and began swiping through something. "Don't even think about it. It's all in the cloud." He jumped back when Anton made a sudden move toward him.

The manager's phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out. A new message in the work group.

A photo.

With trembling fingers, he tapped the screen. His wife anxiously peered over as well.

Yes. It was a picture of her phone while it was ringing. Except Anton was obscured by glare.

The couple let out a relieved breath and looked at the blackmailer.

"You do understand that I have other pictures too?" Anton merely clenched his jaw.

"Well, since you understand--lift Mashka's dress. I've always wondered what kind of panties our family man's wife wears."

The man didn't move. He merely adjusted his glasses with deliberate calm, desperately searching for a way out of the situation.

Sanya only snorted and took out his phone again.

"It's all right, darling. They've already seen me anyway. Let him look if that's what he wants."

Anton snapped.

He strode over to his wife and yanked her dress almost up to her breasts, making her squeal.

"Enjoy the view, you pervert! And understand this: a woman like her would never give you herself willingly!"

"I don't need her willingly." The young man smiled as he looked at the intimate view beneath the hem. "And who's this going home without panties under her dress? That's how I want you to greet me every time I come over. Now, Mashka, turn around--face your husband, back to me--and bend over a little. I'm finally going to fuck you."

"You already fucked her in the steam room, didn't you? Or were you lying?" her husband remarked spitefully.

"Don't get clever! You're not in a position to be clever!"

Anton, like a helpless extra in his own nightmare, watched as his beloved obediently carried out the command, keeping her eyes lowered. To keep her balance, the woman wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and... pressed her cheek against something hard.

His wife looked up questioningly and, giving him an embarrassed smile, for some reason deliberately arched her back, offering the blackmailer a full view of her intimate self.

"In any case, I'll make up for it now." The young man smiled at the sight before him. "What, slut, you didn't wash yourself after the Chinese guy?" His rival grimaced in disgust, thought for a moment, then went over to his things. "Right. Take off the dress. You won't be needing it. Toshka, help your wife undress. You're her husband, aren't you?"

Anton, his jaw clenched, obeyed.

He undid the fastening at the back--the same one he'd helped her hurriedly fasten only a few minutes ago--and pulled the unnecessary garment over her head, revealing his beloved's athletic body.

He glanced at his enemy and even breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him put on a condom.

"Give me that." Sasha snatched the dress from Anton. "And spread your legs, dirty girl. I don't want to get my balls dirty."

Sasha took the expensive fabric, crumpled it, and ran it shamelessly several times from the woman's groin to her buttocks.

The aristocrat stood there in humiliation, head bowed, while the stranger wiped her clean, rising onto her toes whenever the pressure from below became too rough.

Anton merely turned his head away. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, while inside, everything twisted with helplessness.

"Nice ass on your sweetheart, Toshka. Nice and round, neat, too." His rival stroked her fitness-trained curves with his broad palm, kneading them in slow circles. "Shame about the pussy. What the hell is that?" Sasha grabbed and tousled the woman's labia. "Hangs there like a man's balls."

"If you don't like it, don't take it." An offended voice came from behind them.

"And I won't." The young man spread her buttocks and spat heavily on her anus.

"What are you doing?!" The girl sprang up and turned around in horror, hiding her backside fearfully.

"What does it look like? I'm going to break in your back door. Now bend over! That's it. Good girl. A little lower... and arch your back properly."

"Please, don't..." the intellectual whimpered when something hard pressed against her virgin opening.

"Yes, Mashka. It has to be done. Because you have to wash yourself after you've been with other lovers."

"Sash, come on, let's talk this out. You're a businessman, after all."

"We'll definitely come to an arrangement, Tosh. Definitely." The enemy promised in a confidential tone, looking him straight in the eye. "But you've given me so much grief that I simply can't pass up an opportunity like this. You did take that contract away from me, after all. And when else am I ever going to get the chance to humiliate another man's wife right in front of her husband?"

The girl squeaked and clung to her husband's hips when she felt an unfamiliar pressure in her backside.

Sasha merely grimaced.

"Not going in. You could break the damn thing like this." The young man spread her cheeks again, spat on the spot, and slapped her rounded buttock. "Work it open with your fingers. It'll be easier for you."

The girl tentatively reached back and pressed against her sphincter. After circling her finger for a while, she pushed one phalanx inside. The ring of muscle reluctantly parted.

"Ow! Maybe the other way? I'll wash myself afterward." The girl pleaded tearfully, lightly touching herself while the stranger watched.

"No pussy. I've made up my mind. And hurry up, I'm not planning to fool around with you two until morning. You've got one minute. Then I'm going in."

"But it's uncomfortable. I have a manicure. It cuts."

"Then you." He turned to Anton, who was stroking his beloved's back, trying to calm her. "You don't want your wife to be in pain, do you?"

The broken man flinched, but froze, unable to bring himself to take that step.

"Fifty seconds left."

A thick male finger touched the brown ring and pressed hesitantly. The sphincter clenched in fear.

"Relax, sunshine," her husband pleaded in a hollow voice, and pushed two fingers in at once.

The girl let out a long moan.

One more push--the finger slid all the way in and began gently moving inside the tight opening.

His beloved's muffled moans tore through his battered soul like claws.

The thought of touching that place had never even occurred to him--he had always considered it degrading for his wife. His face twisted with bitter frustration.

Now he was preparing his princess's back door for another man.

Yet he still couldn't bring himself to look at his enemy.

Suddenly, the tension left his face. His mouth fell slightly open in surprise--he felt a cool wetness around his cock.

Anton himself could barely suppress a moan as his beloved's sharp little tongue repeatedly teased the heated tip.

The woman's backside began almost imperceptibly moving against the finger, which was already sliding freely inside.

After thinking for a moment, the man added a second finger, stretching her passage further.

His wife let out a muffled groan at the unfamiliar sensation and sucked hard, drawing every last drop from him.

Anton was grateful to his wife for trying to restore his self-respect in this way, but he couldn't help being astonished by the change in her.

Before, even when persuaded to give him a blowjob, she had barely touched him with her lips, almost symbolically. There had been little point to it, which was why the couple rarely engaged in oral sex.

But this was a whole new frenzy of sensation.

Then again, they had never prepared her backside in front of an audience before, either.

"All right, enough, you lovebirds. My turn. Are you sucking him off over there? Come on, spit that filth out! Having you and your husband at once would certainly be tempting, but he hasn't earned it yet." Sasha smirked and pressed his cock against the pulsing sphincter.

The girl clutched her husband's robe and braced herself for the inevitable, biting her lip and obediently presenting herself to the panting stranger.

The cock was long but not thick. Even so, in that unfamiliar place, it caused considerable discomfort.

A couple more attempts, and the head slipped completely past the main barrier. The sphincter clenched tightly around the invading shaft, trying to bite down on the intruder.

The girl arched and lurched toward her husband, staring at him with wide, bulging eyes, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

The uninvited guest kept pounding away, destroying the pride and honor of another man's wife--and, centimeter by centimeter, that of her husband as well.

Anton felt every thrust through her body.

Such a delicate, fragile body, yet no longer his.

Another stroke--another centimeter deeper, another small step by the girl toward a brighter future.

A hoarse, deep moan escaped her open mouth.

Alexander grew tired of these games and, losing his temper, began pounding the intellectual's virgin ass, roughly driving his long shaft into its deepest recesses, where no man's "foot" had ever trodden before.

The girl cried out and instinctively took several steps forward, driving her husband back against the lockers.

"What the hell are you doing? Easy! You'll tear her." Her concerned husband protested.

"Don't piss yourself, Toshka. The hardest part is over." The pioneer grinned viciously, looking down at the cock buried to the root in the girl's ass. "God, she's tight. How does it feel?"

The intellectual silently gulped for air, her mouth opening and closing like a freshly caught perch, unable to say a word.

"And you?"

Anton also remained shamefully silent, watching his wife shudder beneath the powerful thrusts from behind.

Her moans were nothing like the tender sounds he was accustomed to. These were rough, guttural cries, tearing their way out from somewhere deep inside her.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

"You have no idea how good your wife feels inside." The blackmailer continued taunting him. "And what would I ever do without you, buddy?"

"Masturbate, like you always do. Or call a whore, if all else failed." The man sneered, stroking his beloved's back.

"That's exactly what I did." The young man burst out laughing. "And you obediently brought her to me. Even kindly prepared her for me! Besides, Mashka doesn't seem to think my end is particularly thin. Isn't that right, slut?"

A sharp smack rang out as his broad palm landed on her soft flesh.

But the girl no longer reacted to such trifles.

Anton watched his wife and stroked her head, grimacing at the vulgar slap of another man's hips against his beloved's tender buttocks.

Her body had already grown accustomed to it, and the thin cock moved inside her with practically no resistance.

Masha alternated between moaning, arching her back, and whimpering softly.

Her face displayed an entire spectrum of emotions, and not all of them were negative.

None of the participants could have said exactly how long it lasted--for Anton, it felt like an eternity--but Alexander began to speed up.

Masha arched harder as she sensed the ordeal nearing its end and, trying to hasten it, began moving against him.

"What, getting into it, you bitch? Now you're an anal slut." The girl only moaned louder.

Suddenly, the fucker pressed hard against her, flattening her buttocks together.

Once.

Again.

He shuddered a few more times, then relaxed.

"Ahh, that's the stuff."

With a faint wet pop, the cock slipped out of her anus like a cork, and the girl's limp body slid down her husband's legs onto the floor.

The woman breathed deeply, trembling as she tried to recover from the ordeal.

When she came to herself, she carefully checked with her fingers the gaping opening that refused to close, then tried to get back on her feet without meeting her husband's eyes.

"Here. Throw this away." Sanya pulled off the condom and shoved it into the girl's hand.

She took the gift limply and walked over to the bin. She bent down slightly to lift the lid.

"Look at what I did to her." The blackmailer smiled smugly.

Anton merely turned away, his teeth clenched.

Still, he caught a glimpse of his wife arching slightly to give him a better view...

Or had he imagined it?

"Now go wash yourself. And don't get bored without us. Don't go far, either. To be continued."

***

Beneath the black night sky, myriads of snowflakes danced merrily, like fragile ballerinas descending to the sinful earth in a graceful waltz, only to be trampled into the mud beneath human boots.

The clouds hid both stars and moon. The only lamp above the door illuminated a small patch of ground. Beyond its reach, there was darkness--so inviting, so tempting.

The darkness called to him, promising release: to embrace, to protect, to shelter him from every problem...

And somewhere out there, impossibly far away, as though in another world, stood a cozy apartment--their little family nest.

An episode of their favorite TV series had frozen on the laptop screen. In the evenings, after a long day at work, the exhausted married couple would burrow beneath their shared blanket and enjoy lighthearted comedies through the little window of the screen. They never even bothered switching it to the plasma TV.

Now the story stood frozen and lonely in the dark, empty room on pause--perhaps forever, just like their married life.

Anton exhaled a thick cloud of smoke like a great, mighty fire-breathing dragon, melting the nearest "ballerinas." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

The cigarette he'd lit on the way had lasted four drags, and now a dying butt smoldered in his limp, lowered hand.

The door flew open, and a loudly chattering group spilled outside.

"Antokha, you're really getting serious about China. You've even started smoking Chinese cigarettes." A colleague laughed.

"Why Chinese?" the sufferer asked apathetically.

"Because they're chew-zi!" The boss roared with laughter, and the half-drunk chuckles of the others joined in. "So what made you start smoking?"

"Getting ready for China. You said it yourself." The manager spoke without taking his eyes off the gloomy sky.

"And look what I've got--a second trophy." The fetishist pressed something to his face and breathed it in. "Still damp."

"Eww! Those belong to prostitutes. What do you want them for?"

"But the girls are married! Can you imagine? Some guy is waiting for them somewhere while we're fucking them. And afterward I'll look at these and imagine two married women explaining to their husbands where they lost their panties. That's the good stuff!"

Anton reluctantly turned his head.

A bluish scrap of silk was twirling around Mikha's finger.

"And where did you find those?"

"You won't believe it. Under the table. I've got no idea how they got there."

Anton knew exactly how.

In vivid detail.

A roar started in his head. His mind could no longer withstand the blows of this night's festivities.

"Don't tell the Boss about this. Everyone'll be in trouble." Someone warned them. "Keep it under the table."

"Why did you crawl under there in the first place?" Anton asked, suddenly alert. "Wait... a second trophy? You stole the first ones right at the beginning."

"No, those were pink. These ones are different."

The man slid down the wall as the terrible, unmistakable realization struck him.

The last tower of his carefully constructed fantasy collapsed in an instant.

His wife had deceived him.

The end.

Then, at once, a phrase he'd hastily pushed aside earlier came crashing back into his mind--Sanya's words:

"Let the whole team have their way with her for hours."

He hadn't understood them then. His nerves had been stretched too taut.

But now the words fitted the whole picture perfectly, like the final piece of a puzzle.

His head dropped heavily onto his knees, and his shoulders began to shake soundlessly.

No one noticed.

His colleagues were too busy laughing merrily about something.

***

Water hissed indignantly against the hot stones, instantly turning to steam. The unmistakable scent of a Russian banya spread through the steam room.

"Ahh, that's good." The Boss let out a blissful groan and sprawled across the upper bench, keeping the gold chain away from his chest.

A small group basked in the heat, sweating out all the negativity accumulated over the year.

Despite the heat, Snow White had settled herself on the lap of yet another admirer, who had caught her like a house cat, seated her on his lap without bothering about her opinion, and flatly refused to let her go, gently embracing and stroking her petite body.

All she could do was purr.

Sveta kept slipping off his sweaty lap, but her admirer would laugh, catch her under the buttocks, and put her right back in her rightful place.

Anton himself had no idea what he was doing here.

Perhaps he'd simply gone along with his boss's suggestion.

Perhaps he'd cowardly hidden from the humiliation, leaving his wife at Sanya's mercy.

Or perhaps he'd bought himself another dozen minutes to rest, get his thoughts in order, and find a way out of this complicated mess.

He always found a way out...

The steam-room door opened.

"Oh, sweetheart, come over here." A colleague beckoned her with a wave.

Anton turned around.

Masha stood in the doorway completely naked. The only thing she still wore was her wedding ring.

Her thighs were pressed together, her shoulders hunched...

How many times had he seen her in that posture today?

But this time, there was something new.

She was thoughtfully staring at her husband's cock, which had begun filling with blood again and lifting the robe.

"Well? Why are you standing in the doorway?" Sanya came in behind her and slapped her pleasant, rounded backside.

The girl gave a little squeak, timidly approached her admirer, and, wrapping her arms around the man's neck, settled onto his lap just as Sveta had.

Anton gripped the edges of his robe so hard that his fingers turned white with the effort, but not another movement betrayed the mournful emptiness that, like a black hole just below his chest, was sucking the dignity out of him.

A stranger's hand immediately wrapped around her slender waist and began roaming over her breasts, now gently stroking the yielding swell, now squeezing a nipple, making Masha breathe languidly and almost seem to press herself into the rough caresses.

This time she didn't hide her gaze.

Quite the opposite--she watched her husband's reaction with curiosity, as though deliberately trying to draw his attention: now she'd laugh unnaturally at some filthy joke, now she'd moan loudly at the next caress.

But she simply couldn't catch his eye.

Only the unmistakable bulge beneath his robe brought an interested smile to her face.

Sveta looked from one friend to the other in bewilderment, trying to understand what had changed in their lives.

Meanwhile, the stranger's rough palm slowly traveled upward from her flat stomach, moved over her breast, lifting it slightly, then climbed higher, catching the hardened nipple between his fingers.

The aristocrat arched her back slightly, pressing her breast into the чужая palm, and watched with growing excitement as hairy fingers dug into her delicate breasts, greedily drinking in emotions that were new to her.

"What incredibly soft skin. Do you use creams, or is it naturally like that?"

"Naturally." The girl's voice trembled when male lips gently touched her nipple. "Well... cream, too, of course. A little."

"She's just as good inside. Squeezes the hell out of a cock, wrings every last drop out of it. Sometimes it's almost scary she won't let go."

"And she's damn good at sucking, too!" Compliments began raining in from every side. "It's like she's inexperienced, but she tries so hard. We had the three of us take turns with her in the shower."

"She's got a first-rate ass, too." Sanya grinned, watching his rival squirm. "Her husband doesn't fuck her at all. But that's all right, we'll help. Right, boys?"

"By the way, Boss, thanks for keeping the helpers out. The guys told us how you turned them away."

"Glad to help." Anton rasped.

All he could do was clench his jaw and glare menacingly at his wife.

But this time the girl didn't even turn away. She merely bit her lip and shifted her naked backside on someone else's lap.

"Spread your legs, sunshine." Her latest lover ordered. "What are you hiding down there?"

"I... I'm embarrassed."

"Embarrassed by what?!" half the group asked in unison.

"Well, I'm not pretty down there." The girl blushed, but nevertheless parted her thighs a little, revealing her swollen pink lips.

"You mean your little flap?" The Boss declared authoritatively. "Whoever told you it's ugly is a complete idiot who has no idea where a woman's cock belongs."

Masha shot Sanya a triumphant look. He merely ground his teeth.

"Girls with pussies like that are the most sensitive. They're the most fun to fuck!"

Masha spread her thighs more boldly, and a stranger's hand slipped freely between them.

Her husband could do nothing but swallow.

His wife didn't even think of resisting.

Quite the opposite--she pushed her backside toward the caress, offering up her little rose.

"You really like it? It... hangs so much."

"Maybe so, but look how wet she gets! The Boss wasn't lying!" the admirer said appreciatively.

Anton looked at his wife questioningly, but she merely nodded toward the unmistakable bulge in his robe.

The man had no choice but to turn his helpless gaze away once more.

"How about we hold a contest for the best pussy? We could even give the winner a prize."

"Actually, that's an idea."

"You've come up with another contest where you're aiming for first place yourself? You can't be that greedy!" Anton remarked slyly, and the steam room exploded with laughter.

Everyone remembered how he'd somehow managed to take the grand prize at the team-building event he'd organized himself.

Only the Boss grimaced displeasedly--he didn't like seeing his top people embarrassed--but nevertheless gave his approval.

"I support the idea. How are we going to judge it?"

"Easy. We'll take close-ups and post them in the work chat for a vote."

"Turning the workplace into a brothel?"

"It's vacation. Let the rest of the team admire the girls' pussies too. Maybe they'll put in more effort next time so they can come with us. Think of it as team-building."

"Fine." The Boss waved a hand. "Today, I'll allow it. Just make sure none of our faces get in the shots."

"Antokh, you're our most responsible man. You'll handle the photo shoot, right? You've already got a phone sticking out of your pocket."

The bastard stretched his lips into a malicious grin.

The man adjusted his glasses but didn't argue.

If the Boss found out that the lady with her pussy on display was...

The photographer crouched down opposite Sveta and framed the shot.

Her temporary lover lifted the girl's legs almost to her head, making her plump lips part and exposing her large, swollen clitoris.

Her friend blushed slightly as Anton took the picture, but she didn't pull away, merely breathing noisily through her nose.

Then it was Masha's turn.

To her husband's surprise, the girl raised her legs herself, bent them, planted her feet on the bench, spread her knees wide, and, wearing a Mona Lisa smile, watched as her husband reluctantly lowered himself in front of her.

"Wait." She stopped him when he crouched down opposite her and began using her nimble fingers to arrange the unruly inner lips of her little rose beautifully beneath the interested eyes, like an experienced florist.

"Now you can."

"Better like this, boys?"

"A purr-fect pussy!" they chorused.

A salty bead of sweat rolled down his forehead straight into his eye.

Anton wiped it away and discreetly smeared his finger across the phone's camera.

To the thief's dismay, the image on the screen remained just as sharp.

"Let me see." Masha demanded, peering at the phone. "It came out kind of far away. You can't see anything. Maybe take another one?"

Her husband raised a questioning gaze, but his wife merely smiled mysteriously down at him and spread her legs again.

"Just get closer. Don't be shy."

"But he's a married man." Sanya chimed in. "His faithful wife is waiting for him, while he's here taking pictures of women's pussies. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

Even Masha giggled at that.

And Anton felt as though that little laugh had driven him into the floor up to his shoulders.

The second picture was approved by everyone, and with trembling fingers the man finally managed, after several attempts, to post the poll.

"Which one did you like better?"

His wife's question cut through him, unmistakably tinged with jealousy.

"Yours." The man muttered, having given up trying to understand what was happening.

His wife smiled contentedly and involuntarily ran a hand over her pussy.

"Something's making me sick already." Sveta said in an even tone, then slipped off her perch and left the steam room.

"I'm going to cool off, too." Masha jumped down and walked out, swaying her hips.

Several others followed them.

Anton rose as well, but was stopped.

"Antosh, stay a minute. I've got a question."

The man looked at his boss questioningly.

"You've got the girls' contact details, right? Phone numbers, where they work... maybe you even know their home addresses? Anyway, send me everything you've got."

"W-why?" The subordinate stared at him in bewilderment.

"They're working without protection. That's not acceptable. I'll place them with an elite organization. They'll be safe, and they'll make good money."

"But... talk to them. They'll give you everything themselves if they want to."

"I already talked to them. Sveta flat-out refused. Masha said she'd think about it."

Anton was stunned by those last words.

The Boss was silent for a moment, then continued.

"But she'll probably refuse too, the fool."

"But that's their choice." The jealous husband breathed out in relief. "And they don't exactly seem stupid. They understand they can't hide it from their husbands. Besides, who'll want them when they're thirty or forty? An entire generation of those 'lucky women' has already managed to drink themselves into oblivion."

"Don't you dare say that to them! Smart-ass." The Boss grew angry. "They have to believe they'll have a secure and happy life!"

Anton fell silent.

Still, he wasn't particularly worried about his wife. Even the Boss wouldn't be able to get her out of China.

But he didn't want to put Sveta in danger.

"Especially Masha--she's a gold mine." The Boss continued, oblivious to his subordinate's torment. "I've never seen actresses like her, not even in movies."

"Why?"

"When you went to fetch our guest, I wanted to try her out. Man to man, I thought I'd revisit the old days--I asked her to pretend to be a faithful wife. You know, 'no' means 'yes.'

"And she really got into the role! If I hadn't known she'd come here voluntarily, I'd have actually believed her. Hell, I fell for it myself for a while. She even managed to scratch me before I tied her down. And somehow she still managed to bite me. That's when I really got into character.

"Seriously, Antoshka, it was like going straight back to the nineties. I threw in threats about putting her 'husband on a stake,' her relatives, her career, all that, if she wouldn't give in."

"And... then what?" the pale husband asked through numb lips.

"What do you think? Of course she agreed. God, the way she screamed when I fucked her. Tight little pussy... she was."

The brute chuckled.

"Wouldn't have thought she was married. She just lay there, whispering something--either calling for someone or apologizing... while that little pussy was dripping.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Feeling a little sick. Got overheated." Anton whispered without turning around and walked out of the steam room.

The Boss began getting ready to follow him.

***

On wooden legs, seeing nothing before him, the man walked toward the exit. More than anything in the world, he wanted to plunge into the freezing darkness. Hide. From everyone. From himself.

With his eyes open, he could no longer see anything in front of him. His mind simply refused to process what was happening. He merely cast a sidelong glance at his wife, kneeling in the living room in front of Sanya.

He walked on.

There was the longed-for door. But he was never meant to reach it. From behind came a mocking call:

"Where are you off to, family man? Come over here."

Anton obeyed. He approached and stared blankly down at the top of his wife's head as she steadily rode another man's cock.

"I need your help, colleague." The blackmailer spread into a Cheshire-cat grin. "Consider it a favor between friends. Take some pictures for me to remember how your wife sucks me off."

The man silently held out his hand.

"No, no. I'm not giving you my phone. Use yours. Then drop it in the group chat and I'll download it."

His head was roaring. His hands were shaking. The footage came out blurry. But it was footage nonetheless.

His beloved was giving it her all.

Obscene wet sounds filled the room. Her cheeks hollowed inward, then bulged into little hills--and that was definitely not her tongue. Sometimes her head simply sank down onto the long shaft. Sometimes she twisted around it in a spiral. She would stop halfway down the length of it, eyes squeezed shut, then slowly push forward, even though it seemed there was nowhere left to go.

But she quickly pulled back and once again slid her swollen lips rhythmically along the wet shaft, glancing at the camera every so often--as if she might as well have waved at it.

All the while, her fingers never stopped massaging the other man's balls.

She was working up quite a sweat.

Though the liquid hanging from her chin was certainly not sweat.

"So, here's the deal. There's no point trying to change the Boss's mind about China--he's already made his decision. But you can convince him to take me with you. We've worked well together. Irreplaceable assistant... You'll think of something. You're good at that.

"But if I don't go for any reason--you know what happens."

The guy groaned at another trick from the girl, hidden from her husband behind her cheeks, then continued.

"And here's the business plan. We'll put Mashka in with clients to make them more cooperative. Naturally, she'll move in with me--I'll train her at night. You can fuck her sometimes under my supervision if you behave yourself.

"You'll update her wardrobe and lingerie to match her new status before the trip.

"And you'll make sure she signs up for some seduction courses. A lot of money will depend on that.

"And no being difficult! You'll give it to anyone I point out--even the janitor. Got it?"

Something resembling "Uh-huh" came from below.

Suddenly, the owner of the skinny prick tensed, grabbed his lover by the hair, and forcefully drove her down onto him. The girl gagged, trying to pull away. Her hands pushed against his hairy thighs, her manicured nails digging into his skin.

But the guy seemed not to feel a thing. Jerking, he drove deeper and deeper until her sharp little claws pinched his backside hard enough to draw blood.

Breaking free, the girl collapsed onto her hands and knees and tried to cough up the mouthful, swallowing convulsively at the same time as she tried to get rid of what wouldn't come back up.

The guy yanked her head up by the hair and squeezed the remnants onto her face, then casually wiped his cock across the cheeks of the fallen aristocrat.

"Get a good shot of this beauty. Bet she'll become the unofficial face of our company?"

He savored his power over his rival.

"Look at those garlands hanging from her chin. Just like New Year's decorations."

But suddenly the girl sprang to her feet.

She walked up to Sanya.

Wrapped her arms tightly around him.

And... sank her lips into a passionate French kiss.

"What the fuck are you doing, you slut!" The alpha male shoved his lover away furiously and began spitting, wiping his lips with his hands in disgust. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"Did you get it?" Mashka asked curtly.

"Got it," Anton answered, not yet fully realizing what had changed.

What finally brought him back to his senses was his wife's cry as Alexander drew back his fist to strike.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut.

But the blow never came.

More precisely, it did.

Just not at her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her rival doubled over, his stomach impaled on her husband's fist.

Anton, as though suddenly filled with new strength, grabbed the enemy by the neck and hurled him toward the front door.

He shoved him outside.

Then immediately slammed a fist into his ear.

Alexander went down, but managed to catch himself, landing on all fours.

"I'll turn you both in! You'll end up on the street!" the loser shrieked hysterically.

"You won't, you piece of shit. You've still got her cum on your lips, and you think you're going to turn us in?"

The man roared with hatred and drove his foot into his stomach, nearly making his opponent's eyes pop out.

"And I recorded everything, you bastard, just like you asked--close-up!"

Another blow.

Anton straddled him and began hammering the man's face into the back of his own head, each strike returning a little more of the courage he had lost--and taking revenge for his own weakness.

"Antosh, stop! You'll kill him!" Mashka tried to put an end to the beating.

But her husband turned toward her with a low growl, and the girl recoiled, nearly dropping her naked backside into a freshly fallen snowdrift.

That was not a face.

It was the muzzle of a seasoned wolf, one poachers had tormented for a week, taunting it from behind the bars of a cage--until it finally managed to escape.

Bared teeth. Twisted with hatred.

His eyes burned with fury.

His overheated body steamed in the freezing air. It looked as though he might burst into flames at any moment.

Sanya lay flat on his back, his face bloody, groaning faintly.

His nose had been twisted sideways. Blood trickled from his split eyebrow, staining the fluffy snow a vicious crimson.

Anton exhaled, as though releasing the excess rage from his body.

He sprang to his feet and strode quickly back inside.

The girl, still in shock, did not take a single step. She simply stood naked in the freezing air, covering her mouth with both hands.

She had never seen her husband like this...

Then again, today had revealed more than one new side of the man she loved.

And not only of him.

Her naked body trembled, but not from the cold.

The door swung open again, and Anton emerged carrying an armful of clothes: a fur coat hanging from his shoulder, boots and shoes in his hands, and another set tucked under his arm--but this one was for a man.

"Get dressed."

The man tossed a bundle of clothes at the injured rival, then walked over to his wife, taking her fur coat from his shoulder.

The warm fur felt wonderful against the freezing girl.

She cozily buried her stained little face into the fluffy collar and quietly watched as her husband pulled her boots onto her bare feet.

So tenderly...

After everything that had happened.

"Dressed?" He turned toward his rival. "Now remember this, you piece of shit:

"We'll be in China in a couple of days.

"You, on the other hand, will be staying right here.

"One wrong move--and I'll advertise you over there as a Snow Maiden for New Year's. You know what I'm capable of.

"Now look me in the eyes, you piece of filth, and tell me I'm bluffing!"

Sasha tried to turn away, but Anton clamped a steel grip around his jaw and forced his face back toward him.

"Look me in the eyes, scum! You're quitting the company. And I don't want to see you anywhere on my horizon again. Got that, you piece of rot?"

Silence.

Then the sharp crack of a slap.

"Yeah, I got it. I got it," the loser mumbled through his battered lips.

"Now delete everything. In front of me."

The guy reluctantly pulled out his phone.

Another slap.

"Enough. I'll do it."

The alpha male whimpered almost girlishly, finally acknowledging complete surrender.

Once Anton had made sure everything was deleted from the cloud, one brisk farewell kick sent the defeated enemy through the gate.

"Get in your car and leave now. I'll pull Sveta out and get the hell out of here too."

Anton's voice grated like metal as he turned toward his wife.

"Here are the keys."

"But... darling, you don't--"

His wife began, then stopped when she looked into her husband's eyes.

"Okay... all right. As you say."

"Watch out for the cops. You don't exactly look inconspicuous dressed like that."

He paused, then added in a softer, caring tone:

"When you get home, drink some hot tea right away. Standing naked against a snowy backdrop is only beautiful in paintings."

After making sure the car disappeared around the bend, Anton breathed out in relief and closed the gate.

He drew a deep breath of the freezing air and headed for the entrance.

Despite everything that had happened, an inexplicable happiness was swelling inside his chest.

He wanted to jump, shout, celebrate...

The door opening into the sauna nearly smacked the lucky man in the forehead.

"Oh, Antokh, want a smoke?"

"Sure. I could use one. Your treat."

***

This was the first cigarette all day that actually tasted good. The vodka, too, spread a pleasant warmth through Anton's chest. He even closed his eyes as he bit into a hot cutlet that had just been served.

Mashka might have left, but he had positioned himself so he could see the entrance from the doorway.

Just... in case.

Far too much had happened today for him to trust his own eyes.

His wife's robe was still lying under the table nearby. Anton picked it up and noticed something fall from the pocket.

But then he saw Svetka in the doorway, being led along by two gentlemen, each supporting her under the buttocks.

Without looking, he slipped the fallen object into his pocket, downed another shot, and, glaring at the entrance door as though it were an enemy, went to rescue his friend.

The trio disappeared into the Turkish steam room right in front of him.

"Should I stand guard here or something?" He stopped uncertainly in front of the door. "There's no way I'm dragging her out of those studs right now anyway. And you can't see a damn thing in there."

"Oh, Antoshka! Going Turkish? Come on, let's steam."

"Jesus fucking Mashka," the manager cursed silently, moving only his lips.

"What?"

"Of course. Let's go, I said."

The steam really was thick--only voices could be heard.

And sighs mixed with laughter.

Women's.

Svetka was going to get enough sex today to last her a lifetime.

"What a bunch of degenerates. Don't you people have enough rooms?" the Boss protested, though without much malice now--just grumbling for form's sake.

And the guys correctly took that as a green light.

Soon, from somewhere behind the impenetrable wall of steam, came wet smacking sounds and the soft, high moans of Snow White.

"I've really hit rock bottom. I can recognize my friend's wife by her moans now," Anton thought sadly, Oleg coming to mind at the worst possible moment.

"Antosh, when are you going to send me the info we talked about?" the Boss whispered in his ear.

"Boss, I thought those days were over. Why ruin their lives?"

"Don't teach me my own business... Close the door!"

Several more people carelessly tumbled into the steam room.

The overheated body immediately noticed the slight drop in temperature.

They really had left the door open too long, the idiots. What were they messing around for?

"So when can I expect it? I need to send it off already. I want to brand them right here, without even stepping away from the cash register, while everything's still hot."

"Brand them?"

"Yeah. A special tattoo goes right on the mug, and then they won't wriggle out of it... Don't get into the details. Just give me the information so they can't slip off the hook."

A long female moan came from inside.

Through the steam, a silhouette emerged--a woman sitting astride someone, moving her hips energetically.

Her arms were clearly raised to the sides for a reason.

The pitch of the moans changed, as though the girl had reached her peak.

And judging by the intermittent smacking sounds, her mouth was occupied from time to time as well.

Oleg came to mind again, and Anton felt his heart sink.

"How am I supposed to get you out of this now?"

"All right, Boss. I'll dig up some more personal information--who lives where, relatives, close connections--and send you the whole package."

"I never doubted you, Antosh!"

The boss clapped his subordinate on the back like an old friend.

"Let's get out of here... Look at this place... They don't have enough room for themselves."

In response came a woman's giggle, followed by another energetic round of wet smacking and slaps.

Leaving the steam room and his friend behind to carry on her debauchery, Anton stopped uncertainly.

He took off his fogged-up glasses, wiped them with the edge of his robe, and stared thoughtfully at the water in the pool.

"Well? What are you standing there for? Come on, let's have a drink. Consider it our last one on home soil."

Anton merely shook his head, making no attempt to wipe the idiotic grin from his face.

His eye twitched nervously.

In the pool, among several of his colleagues, happily splashing around...

... was Sveta.