Free Sex Collections: NEEDFUL FLINGS: A three-volume hot, hung, and hungry sex collection by Andrina Coy Page B
Authors: Andrina Coy
envelope to Roman Brogin’s always-present enforcer, Vlad, the man who actually carried out the finger cutting – and worse. Vlad quickly handed the envelope to Roman and then looked at Oleg with unblinking, ice-flint eyes.
Roman opened the envelope, frowned, and then looked up, clearly disappointed in its contents.
“What the fuck is this supposed to be?”
Oleg shifted nervously on his feet as he fought to remain calm in the presence of such dangerous and unpredictable men.
“That’s forty thousand dollars, Roman. I know it’s far less than what I owe you, but I thought it best I prove my intention of paying you back as promised.”
Roman grunted as he shook his head in disgust.
“You come here with forty thousand dollars when you owe over a million? That’s not a gesture of respect, it’s a fucking insult!”
Oleg lowered his eyes to the floor of Roman’s private office in the back of one of the most popular and lucrative strip clubs in North Seattle and remained very still, not wanting to further aggravate the Russian mob boss.
“What do we do about this, Vlad? He owes me money, a lot of fucking money, and brings me pennies. He’s six months late. Am I a man who allows people to be six months late in paying me?”
Oleg shook his head while keeping his eyes on the floor.
“No, no you are not. I’ll be back next month with another $100k, maybe more. The restaurant, it cost me a ton of money, I had a kitchen update, a leaky roof, a state audit, and uh, the real estate market is still shit, my rentals are losing money too.”
Roman held up his right hand, signaling Oleg shut up. He looked at Vlad once again and received a shrug of the shoulders from his enforcer.
“How much is that restaurant of yours worth, Oleg? I’ve been there, it’s nice. Good location, I hear Capitol Hill is prospering.”
Oleg’s internal alarms sounded. He feared Roman would make a play for the restaurant, and now it appeared the mob boss was doing just that.
“I’m not interested in selling my share of the restaurant, Roman.”
Roman looked up at Oleg with eyes absent any semblance of humanity. At that moment Oleg sensed how close he was coming to never walking out of Roman’s office alive.
“And I’m not interested in you making these pathetic payments. I just turned seventy! I’ll be dead and gone by the time you finally pay what is owed me! If I want your restaurant, I’ll have it, understand?”
Oleg straightened himself to his full height and looked directly into Roman’s eyes.
“You’ll have your money next month – all of it. If not, you can have my share of the restaurant.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed, lending his fleshy drooping face the appearance of a suspicious pig.
“How do you intend to come by that much money so soon, Oleg? Are you doing business in this city I am not aware of? Would you betray your allegiance to the one who helped you make a home for yourself here? Would you insult me again?”
Vlad took a step toward Oleg, the large, heavily built Russian’s right hand reaching into the side pocket of the long black trench coat he always wore regardless of the season. Oleg held up both his hands and took a half step back.
“Call off your dog, Roman. If you hurt me tonight, it will be that much more difficult to get your money back. I’ve given you my word, now let me leave here so I can get to work on paying you back in full by next month.”
Roman stood up, revealing the dark blue velvet track suit in all its geriatric glory, partially hiding a forty pounds overweight body gone to hell years ago. Oleg could not recall seeing Roman wear anything else.
“You have until next month, Oleg, and then I will take your restaurant and your fingers too. Now get the fuck out of here.”
After Oleg left the office Roman sat back down and then pointed at Vlad.
“Make some calls, have
Roman opened the envelope, frowned, and then looked up, clearly disappointed in its contents.
“What the fuck is this supposed to be?”
Oleg shifted nervously on his feet as he fought to remain calm in the presence of such dangerous and unpredictable men.
“That’s forty thousand dollars, Roman. I know it’s far less than what I owe you, but I thought it best I prove my intention of paying you back as promised.”
Roman grunted as he shook his head in disgust.
“You come here with forty thousand dollars when you owe over a million? That’s not a gesture of respect, it’s a fucking insult!”
Oleg lowered his eyes to the floor of Roman’s private office in the back of one of the most popular and lucrative strip clubs in North Seattle and remained very still, not wanting to further aggravate the Russian mob boss.
“What do we do about this, Vlad? He owes me money, a lot of fucking money, and brings me pennies. He’s six months late. Am I a man who allows people to be six months late in paying me?”
Oleg shook his head while keeping his eyes on the floor.
“No, no you are not. I’ll be back next month with another $100k, maybe more. The restaurant, it cost me a ton of money, I had a kitchen update, a leaky roof, a state audit, and uh, the real estate market is still shit, my rentals are losing money too.”
Roman held up his right hand, signaling Oleg shut up. He looked at Vlad once again and received a shrug of the shoulders from his enforcer.
“How much is that restaurant of yours worth, Oleg? I’ve been there, it’s nice. Good location, I hear Capitol Hill is prospering.”
Oleg’s internal alarms sounded. He feared Roman would make a play for the restaurant, and now it appeared the mob boss was doing just that.
“I’m not interested in selling my share of the restaurant, Roman.”
Roman looked up at Oleg with eyes absent any semblance of humanity. At that moment Oleg sensed how close he was coming to never walking out of Roman’s office alive.
“And I’m not interested in you making these pathetic payments. I just turned seventy! I’ll be dead and gone by the time you finally pay what is owed me! If I want your restaurant, I’ll have it, understand?”
Oleg straightened himself to his full height and looked directly into Roman’s eyes.
“You’ll have your money next month – all of it. If not, you can have my share of the restaurant.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed, lending his fleshy drooping face the appearance of a suspicious pig.
“How do you intend to come by that much money so soon, Oleg? Are you doing business in this city I am not aware of? Would you betray your allegiance to the one who helped you make a home for yourself here? Would you insult me again?”
Vlad took a step toward Oleg, the large, heavily built Russian’s right hand reaching into the side pocket of the long black trench coat he always wore regardless of the season. Oleg held up both his hands and took a half step back.
“Call off your dog, Roman. If you hurt me tonight, it will be that much more difficult to get your money back. I’ve given you my word, now let me leave here so I can get to work on paying you back in full by next month.”
Roman stood up, revealing the dark blue velvet track suit in all its geriatric glory, partially hiding a forty pounds overweight body gone to hell years ago. Oleg could not recall seeing Roman wear anything else.
“You have until next month, Oleg, and then I will take your restaurant and your fingers too. Now get the fuck out of here.”
After Oleg left the office Roman sat back down and then pointed at Vlad.
“Make some calls, have
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