He offered her an arm and guided her into a large library of dark wood, gilt, and many leather-bound volumes. A small sofa awaited them, with a table set before it with vodka, other liquids, a mound of Beluga caviar, running to about a kilogram, she reckoned, with chopped onion and other condiments set beside it. He sat her down. “What do you wish to drink?”

“Vodka, please.”

“He poured them both a glass from a frosty bottle and sat down beside her, thigh to thigh. “May I serve you caviar?”

“Thank you, yes.”

He spooned a heap onto a crystal dish, added condiments and a small spoon, no blinis or biscuits. They raised their glasses and drained them, then dug into the caviar.

“And how is your visit to Moscow so far?” he asked.

“It’s a beautiful city. I had hoped to see some of the countryside, but they have me on a tight schedule of interviews.”

“Perhaps on another visit you may come to my dacha, in the country. It is quite beautiful and restful there.”

She felt the first flush of the alcohol and resolved to sip from here on in. “Perhaps, who knows?”

“I have seen a number of your films,” he said, “and I have always been much impressed with your performances.”

“Thank you very much.”

His eyes rested on her breasts. “That is a very lovely dress,” he said. “It suits you.”

She smiled broadly. “Thank you, that is a very nice compliment.”

They lowered the level of the caviar and the vodka, as well, then a uniformed butler entered and announced dinner. They followed him to a small dining room with a terrace with a spectacular view of Red Square. They were served four courses of haute cuisine and three wines, chatting all the way. He was charming, witty, and sexy all at once, she thought. After dinner, she excused herself to freshen up, and when she returned, found that he had left the room as well.

She stood at the entrance to the terrace and let the night air play on her bare shoulders, very pleasantly tipsy. She heard a door open and close behind her, and felt him move toward her and kiss her on the back of the neck. She gave a little shiver, then felt the long zipper of her dress move down to the crack of her buttocks. The dress fell into a pool at her feet, exposing her only other clothing, a pair of black fishnet stockings, held up by a lace garter belt.

She felt him move back, and she turned around.

Petrov stood there, clad in only a pair of black socks, and sporting the largest penis she had ever seen outside a porno film.

Nathalie would later reflect that they were both appropriately dressed for the occasion.

36