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sians. And she knew how to convince a man, one way or another. On her back she never lost an argument. |
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Marina poured two large glasses of Stoly and handed one to Ryerson. Liquor frightened him, always had. He disliked the feeling of being out of control. His aunt had raised him on tales of the havoc caused in the Ryerson family by drink, and he secretly suspected that he, himself, was dangerously near to being an alcoholic. |
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It was early in the day for knocking back straight vodka, but it seemed Marina was going into one of her "real Russian" phases. "I admire man who drinks," she would say, dropping her articles in the Russian way. Actually, Ryerson thought, no man breathing would refuse a drinkor a dozen drinksfrom a five foot nine, 150 pounder with breasts like melons and with hips and a belly Rubens might have painted. |
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There was a peasant quality to Marina's face. It was broad, with high cheekbones and widely spaced eyes like chips of blue sky under heavy black brows. Even fully clothed, she radiated sex. Naked, with her large, dark aureolas contracted, nipples erect, smelling of an hour's copulation, she was formidable. Just the way she came to the bed started Ryerson's hormones flowing again. He had never been a sexual athlete before taking up with Marina Suslova, and he was desperately proud of his ability to perform with her now. |
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"Schastye," she said. Luck. She knocked back the vodka as though it were tap water. |
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Ryerson matched her. The liquor was without flavor and icy cold. Marina poured another and they repeated the ritual. Two were Ryerson's limit. |
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"I have things to do today," Ryerson said. |
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"Then go. Go." An immediate sulk. Genuine? How could one tell with Marina? But making a guessno. Only an act. But a good one. Ryerson's erection softened. |
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"I don't want to go yet," he said. |
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