Blackmail

59 SOCHI, RUSSIA

The afternoon aboard Chernov’s yacht passed quickly as they cruised northwest along the Black Sea coast under a cloudless sky. From the flying bridge, Christine had a spectacular view of Sochi’s pebble-sand beaches, transitioning to green hills ascending toward the Caucasus Mountains to the east and wooded uplands to the north. With no chef aboard to prepare a meal suitable for his guests, Chernov docked at the Sochi Yacht Club for lunch at a French brasserie-style restaurant on the waterfront. Lunch was delicious, and after returning to the yacht, they continued northwest along the Black Sea coast. As the sun slipped toward the horizon, Chernov turned the yacht around and increased speed.

It wasn’t long before they cruised between steep cliffs framing the entrance to the cove beneath Chernov’s villa, then coasted to a halt beside the pier. It was almost dinnertime, and the aroma of rosemary and garlic greeted Christine as she entered the open-air villa. She headed to Chernov’s bedroom to change clothes, swapping her capri pants and blouse for a one-shoulder emerald-green chiffon dress.

The three Russians likewise changed attire, with Chernov and Alekperov donning sport coats over open-collar shirts, while Alekperov’s wife changed into a stylish white satin evening gown. Drinks on the patio were followed by a delectable dinner, during which the wine flowed freely. Christine paced herself, limiting her consumption to two glasses. She would normally have stopped at one considering what she was about to do, but decided a second glass would help calm her nerves.

A Russian crème over fresh fruit for dessert completed the meal, and as darkness descended on the shore of the Black Sea, the conversations ebbed. Alekperov and his wife excused themselves for an early repose, leaving Christine and Chernov alone at the table. Chernov rose, extending his hand, assisting Christine to her feet, then led the way to his bedroom suite.

After they entered the room, Chernov pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and turned it off, then closed the door behind them. As he locked the door, Christine’s apprehension began to mount, and she began trembling. Chernov noticed and inquired, considering the temperature was in the mid-seventies. Christine played it off as the chills from too much sun on Chernov’s yacht. Backing up her claim, her exposed skin had a pink tinge.

Chernov turned off the ceiling fan, then stopped in front of Christine, rubbing the sides of her shoulders to warm her up. As he looked down at her, Christine wrapped her arms around his neck and offered a kiss, which Chernov eagerly accepted. She let the kiss linger while Chernov’s hands wandered, doing her best to simulate a passionate response. When the kiss ended, she pulled away.

“Let me change into something more appropriate.”

Chernov grinned as Christine gathered her silk nightgown and her purse, then headed into the bathroom.