⧗ CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE ⧗

Dmitri's heart pounded in his chest.

His anxiety spiked as soon as he left the club, and the veneer of safety it offered. From what he had been able to tell, Annika and Sabina had already left with their respective targets. Rada was currently making out with hers at a small table. Oksana's was currently so drunk that he might not make it out of the establishment, so last Dmitri saw was her coaxing him into one of the private rooms. That'll be a fun credit card charge to wake up to.

And now he was on his own, walking arm in arm with Johanna, keeping her upright as she swayed back and forth across the sidewalk. But she had enough of a head on her shoulders to remember the way back to her place.

Dmitri knew he was in a better position, being both sober and with a few tools up his sleeve. He didn't think Johanna even noticed he hadn't finished his first shot of vodka, after she had already polished off several by the time they left.

He still couldn't shake off the nervousness. The paranoia. Peering into every alleyway they passed. An eye on every car that drove by.

But they managed to make it to her apartment unaccounted. Johanna fumbled with her keys, cursing under her breath. Only when she dropped them did Dmitri finally intervene, picking them up for her and finding the correct key based on the matching metal to the lock on the door. Johanna blinked in surprise at his acuity, and decided to offer her thanks by pulling Dmitri's head down by the collar of his shirt and giving him a kiss.

A very long kiss.

It was a small miracle Dmitri managed to get her upstairs and into her apartment. He was not having hallway sex where anyone might walk in and see. And considering her building seemed to be of the decent sort, the kind that housed children (judging by the assortment of toys and small bikes in the lobby), he didn't need to add a criminal charge to his list of actions tonight. The Red Room didn't need that kind of proof.

Johanna had an easier time getting into her own apartment. The place was dim and a little messy, as indicated when she turned on a lamp. Not the overhead lights, thankfully — for whatever reason, Dmitri would prefer it not to be too bright. Though some light would be necessary for the button camera to record properly.

Speaking of.

Johanna pulled him into another kiss in the hallway, only to pull away again and mumble, "Do you, er, want any water or something?"

Dmitri couldn't help but chuckle at the needless attempt at hospitality. "Only if you do."

"Nope," she said, and that was enough to get Dmitri into her bedroom. Johanna's apartment wasn't particularly clean, but at least she had no roommates. No extra parties he had to be worried about. Johanna had already pulled off Dmitri's jacket when she quickly excused herself to the bathroom.

He hoped it was only to freshen up, and not because she had to expunge her stomach from too much drinking. Her kisses stank of bitter vodka. But it was also a chance to plant that camera. Somewhere she wouldn't notice, and be easy to retrieve later.

Dmitri scanned the room quickly. A queen-sized bed, curtain windows to the left, two bedside tables, only one with personal effects on them. Some photo frames on the opposite wall. The bathroom door was closed, but he didn't hear any sounds of retching.

There weren't a lot of surfaces he could find to put the button on without it being sorely obvious. Maybe the bedside table lamps, but he was afraid of them being knocked over. You never know. He looked up. Maybe the ceiling light?

He heard the faucet being turned on. Dmitri looked around quickly, determining the bed to be the only feasible way to quickly reach the light. Up nice and fast, without a sound. Planting the button on the metal centerpiece that screwed the glass to the ceiling. As long as she didn't look too closely, Johanna would never notice it.

Dmitri squinted into the minuscule lens, could just make out the aperture pulsating as it refocused, and felt satisfied that it was working properly.

Then he heard the turn of the knob and dead-dropped off the bed. Shoes off, buttons coming undone fast — what he should've been doing this whole time, if he wasn't an agent planting hidden cameras.

Then Johanna stepped out, sans dress — she took one look at Dmitri, shirtless, and closed the distance almost immediately. This time, Dmitri could tell by her kiss what Johanna was doing in there — brushing her teeth, apparently. The minty taste was much. more pleasant, though the vodka was still on her breath and on her mind; perhaps the only reason why Dmitri didn't have to deal with any residual awkwardness of a woman's first one night stand in what must have been a while.

It meant less for him to think about, one less situation to navigate. Less time to overthink. Less time to wonder what he was doing. Less time to feel what he was feeling.

No time, not when Johanna was already pushing him onto the bed, was on top of him, their breathing hot and fast and hands all over. Johanna seemed to be marveling at Dmitri's chest, laughing to herself in a thought she did not digress aloud.

But Dmitri wasn't stupid. He could guess what she was thinking. How lucky she was. How much she was already enjoying this. All he had to do was make sure it stayed that way.

Simple, really.

Some small, animal part of his brain ached to run. Skittered to and fro, trapped, caged, not wanting to be here, not wanting to do this, not under these circumstances. Not wanting to be a means to an end.

But Dmitri had nowhere to go. As Johanna buried her face into the crook of his neck, pinching bruises into his skin with her teeth, grinding her hips down and giggling as Dmitri's body responded without his bidding — his eyes found the camera above, that small black eye gazing down dispassionately. It was only recording, not a live feed.

Nevertheless, Dmitri was highly aware he was being watched. Evaluated. Judged. This was a job. A performance. And he had to please.

Dmitri couldn't stare into it. He had to look past the camera. Ignore it completely. Just as he was ignoring the way his stomach clenched with nausea as Johanna's hands slipped into his pants. The automatic words leaving his lips, allowing her to find the condom in his wallet, in his pants pocket. Watching, like a spectator from afar, as Johanna dug it out, flipped the wallet open, before tossing it across the room after she found the little prize inside.

Didn't even glance at the ID, or the fact that, if she had pulled out any of the cards within, they were bland plastic, not actual credit cards. Or that he had a surprisingly large amount of hard cash within. That wouldn't raise eyebrows for the rich kid Declan Albequerque was. Or that an agent might need untraceable cash should he wind up in a sour situation.

Nope. Dmitri simply focused on his breathing. On staying calm. On being the happy, fun little college boy Johanna expected him to be, wanted him to be. The kind of boy who laughed — a little helpless — when she disclosed that her previous husbands, both of them, never liked her being on top.

It served him. He had no complaints. Of course not. Better Dmitri was on his back and not her, where she'd have more time to notice the camera.

"Never got to ride a stallion before," Johanna had gloated, right before she mounted him. And after that it was easy to just close his eyes and let himself go far away. So he didn't look up and see Ksenia instead, so he didn't feel the itch of the coarse sheets against his skin.

A buzzing in his ear. Maybe Dmitri should've asked for mood music, so he had more to distract himself with. Too late now.

When Johanna grabbed his hand and pressed it to her breast, Dmitri obeyed. When she put his other hand between her legs, he knew exactly what to do. Like a puzzle, or a musical instrument, putting it all together to create a masterpiece. It all came together just as it should.

Only complete when hitting that climax; only when Johanna finally gasped and sighed and rolled off him, burrowing her face into the side of his neck. The sound of their panting breaths filling the air, now sticky with sweat and sex. The overwhelming relief that washed over Dmitri.

The hard part was over. All that was left was the extraction.

But Dmitri couldn't just rip himself from Johanna's arms like he so desperately wanted to. Couldn't just grab his clothes and run for the door. No, he had to carry her through the afterglow. An element just as important as the sex itself. Keep her guard down. Make sure she was well and truly asleep before he left, so she had nothing but memories when she woke that morning.

Though, with the amount Johanna drank tonight, Dmitri wasn't sure if she'd have even that.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" Johanna murmured next to his ear, pressing soft kisses down his jaw. "Boys your age don't usually know how to use your hands like that."

"I had a good teacher," Dmitri said, his mind still far away. It was all he could do cling to the moment, remembering what he had to do, to say. Couldn't retreat into himself. Couldn't turn into a cold machine. He was still Declan, the sweet, stupid boy with a thing for older women, who knew how to use his hands.

"Yeah?" She giggled, her fingers tracing aimless patterns across his chest. "Guess I should leave her a tip, huh?"

Dmitri was only able to make a sound that resembled a laugh, unable to respond otherwise. Not with the way his stomach dipped at those words, the sudden overwhelming disgust he felt. Didn't know where it came from. Who it was directed at. Johanna, or himself?

So he just stuffed it back down, not wanting to deal with it right now. He still had to get out of here.

Dmitri gave it about ten minutes of cuddling, before a combination of restlessness and nausea urged him to get up, with an excuse to use the bathroom. By that point, Johanna was sufficiently exhausted and coming down from her vodka-infused daze into a half-sleep. Getting up roused her slightly, but Dmitri wasn't worried about it just yet.

The bathroom was the temporary respite he needed. How badly he wanted to lock the door, in case Johanna got any funny ideas.

The first thing Dmitri homed in on was the toilet. Thought about throwing up, gave it a second thought, and decided against it. Couldn't risk Johanna overhearing. He also couldn't take a shower, no time, no matter how much his skin crawled and itched with drying sweat.

Dmitri went to the sink instead, feeling the cold rush of water hit his fingers. When he looked up into the mirror, Dmitri didn't recognize the pale, wild-eyed creature staring back at him. Something haunted in face of that cornered animal.

Don't look, don't look. Don't think about. Dmitri finally managed to pull his gaze away by splashing his face with cold water. It was the shock to the system he needed. The post-sex clarity he needed. Right, the vial.

Dmitri still had his pants on, thankfully. Johanna hadn't looked in his other pocket, otherwise she may have found the small leather pouch within — a set of lockpicks, a tiny blade, and a small vial of clear liquid. A water glass sat on the counter, which Dmitri filled with water from the faucet. Then the contents of the vial, which blended seamlessly.

Then, after taking a moment to gather himself and put the mask back on — shutting that wild helpless creature back into the dark — Dmitri stepped out of the bathroom with the glass of water and a smile. Johanna was still lying in bed, rolling over sluggishly to see him approach.

"Aren't you thoughtful?" She purred, as he sat on the bed next to her, making sure she had a firm hold of the glass before letting go. And considering both the alcohol and their exercise, Johanna was thirsty. She required no coaxing at all to finish the entire glass of water and its extra contents. "You can lie back down, you know…."

The sedative acted quickly. Johanna's eyes were already growing heavy, as she slumped back onto her pillows and sighed deeply. Despite her request, she didn't complain as Dmitri remained sitting next to her, stroking her hair to soothe her as the drug hit her stomach, and then entered her bloodstream.

Her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. Dmitri waited several long minutes just to be sure it was all well. After five minutes, he checked her pulse, found it to be at a slow but healthy rate; it wouldn't be a fatal mix after all that vodka. And then, reassured that Johanna was well and truly out, he got up, grabbed his shirt and jacket, and got dressed as quickly as possible.

Dmitri gave the room a thorough once over to make sure he had left nothing behind. Picked up his wallet, made sure nothing felt out. Shoes, jewelry, all accounted for. Just the camera, which he retrieved last, a quick hop on the bed. Johanna was so deeply asleep that she didn't even stir by the time he was back on the floor again, tucking the button camera into his pocket.

His last act, flicking off all the lights, not worrying about the fingerprints he wouldn't leave behind. When Johanna woke up, it'd be like he was never here at all.

Dmitri didn't glance back when he closed the door behind him.

~ o ~

The horizon was just turning purple with the morning when Dmitri finally returned to the hotel room.

Comrade Goncharova sat in the seat next to the door. When he entered, she held up a box, in which he dropped the button camera. She gave him a nod of approval, and Dmitri required no other permission before making a beeline to the bathroom.

Shower on, clothes off, extraneous details cast to the floor. Dmitri wanted nothing left of Declan on his skin as he stepped under the hot water. Then he turned it up even further.

Something was wrong, but he couldn't name it. He could only grab the soap and scrub his skin, and scrub it again and again and again. Hotter the water became, until that horrible, bone-deep creeping sensation was obliterated under the boiling water. Dmitri considered it a tolerable response; better than if he had thrown up, which would have shown how little control he had over his own body. So as far as Dmitri was concerned, he'd won that little battle.

By the time Dmitri stepped out of the shower, his skin had turned raw and red from all the soap and scrubbing. It stung, but he felt better. A little bit, at least. Enough that he no longer smelled Johanna on him anymore. Even if her touch still lingered…

Sabina and Annika occupied one of the two beds in the hotel room; both had returned successfully, Annika already asleep. Rada had just returned when Dmitri was in the shower and was waiting her turn. Only Oksana was still left out there.

As Dmitri slumped onto the empty couch, Sabina frowned at him, sitting up slightly. "Are you okay, Dmitri? You look…"

Whatever she thought he looked like, she couldn't say. Dmitri did his best to play it off, forcing a smile on his face and saying, "Just tired, that's all. Maybe… maybe a little weird, I guess?"

"Hm," Sabina pursed her lips, then shrugged. "Yeah, I heard that happens. I think it goes away on its own. It's not a big deal, you know? Just all this societal expectation they put on sex. It doesn't actually mean anything."

Dmitri opened his mouth, then closed it, deciding it best not to correct Sabina's assumptions. That his discomfort, or whatever it was he felt, had nothing to do with how this culture or that viewed sex. Instead, he changed the topic, "How… how did it go for you?"

Sabina shrugged. "Wasn't great, wasn't terrible. Kind of hurt a little, but not in a way we weren't already aware of. He fell asleep halfway through, so I got what I needed. Look at it in a certain way, and it was kind of fun, I guess. Annika didn't even need to drug hers. Turns out he's already a heroin addict. Probably won't remember a damn thing tomorrow."

She was so casual and offhand about it, Dmitri wondered if he was crazy. Fun? It was supposed to be fun? He decided against sharing his own feelings about it, how badly he had reacted; clearly he was the outlier in that regard. Dmitri didn't know what it meant, only that his instincts told him not to divulge. To pretend everything was okay. That it should've been okay. Why wouldn't it be? He wasn't hurt. Johanna wasn't rough with him. And yet he felt sick and dizzy leaving her apartment, heart pounding like he was running a marathon, heavy, uneven breathing; the kind of strange physical reaction that he had to pause and recover from before returning to the hotel room.

Dmitri still wasn't sure if he'd come away from that unscathed, if Sabina could tell something was wrong.

"You should probably get some sleep," Sabina suggested gently, when Dmitri failed to respond. "We're heading out early tomorrow, long flight back and all."

"I know," Dmitri knew he was going to be exhausted. Still, he looked towards the door. "I think I'll wait for Oksana."

Sabina blinked, and gave him a soft smile. They hadn't been close in months now, but in this moment it seemed they were on the same page. "Yeah. That's what I was doing, too."

It was long enough that Rada had time to finish her shower and go to bed as well; long enough that Dmitri was starting to worry something had gone wrong. But it was just after four in the morning when Oksana finally stumbled through the hotel door, exhausted as she dumped the button camera into Comrade Goncharova's waiting box, and slumping on the couch next to Dmitri.

"Asshole," was all she went by explanation for her tardiness, yanking off one heel then the other. "Passed out twice before he finally got around to fucking me. Practically had to show him a manual. Think it might've been his first time, too."

"That, or he was already too drunk," Sabina said, making a sympathetic grimace. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Oksana grumbled, wrinkling her nose as she tossed her other heel away. "Not on purpose, I think. It definitely wasn't comfortable, that's for sure. Just glad it's over now." She cut a look towards Dmitri, heaving a sigh, "Suppose you didn't have to worry about that, huh?"

"It was… interesting," was all Dmitri could make himself say.

Oksana frowned slightly, apparently not expecting that response. "…Yeah. Guess that makes sense. You've got more to do in that department."

Dmitri decided it best not to comment on that.

"You can have the couch, then," Oksana sighed, as she got up again. "Didn't mean to keep you guys up."

But Dmitri couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. Lying on his back just reminded him of being in Johanna's bed, staring up at that little black button. On his side, on his stomach, tossing and turning to avoid thinking about everything that had just happened.

All that mattered was he passed.

To keep reminding himself. The first time is always the hardest.