Kseniya had only been working in the Liprandi Hotel for a week, yet that had been long enough to hear stories about what sometimes happened between the Russian room maids and some of the foreign tourists -- the single male tourists. So she wasn't totally surprised when the German in room 54 held up a bundle of Euros and smiled at her as he lay on his bed.

Kseniya had thought she probably wasn't attractive enough to get that kind of an offer, but there was no doubt what this man wanted from her.

In better times she would have politely refused. Then again, in better times she would have been able to afford to return to the university and continue her studies. As it was, she was working like a slave each day for a few miserable roubles and Kseniya knew she'd be a fool to pass up such a windfall of hard currency. So she smiled back at the German.

"You want money?" he asked her in badly spoken Russian. "What your name?"

"Kseniya."

"Ks . . . Kse . . ." he laughed at not being able to pronounce it. "I am Karl. Hello."

"Hello, Karl."

The man beckoned her to come closer and flicked the corner of the notes with his thumb, as though showing off how many of them there were in his hand.

Kseniya knelt down on top of the bed and smiled at the German again. He rolled his money up into a tight spill and gently pushed it down into her right bra cup. Then he lay on his back, unzipped his pants and indicated for Kseniya to pull them off him.

The comforting touch of the money against her soft flesh was more than enough justification for giving Karl the satisfaction he wanted in return. She didn't want to do it but the money spoke with a louder voice than her conscience. Kseniya pulled the man's pants down to his knees and then down over his feet. Only when they were lying on the carpet did she look at the German's cock.

It was half hard and half soft, lying over and resting its head against Karl's thigh as if was too tired to do anything. But her boyfriend's love organ also looked like that at first, and she had learned how to wake that sleeping bear up. A tickle underneath here, a lick there, and then the lips all round, like this . . .

The man stroked her hair as Kseniya massaged his quickly hardening organ with her lips and tongue.

"You good girl -- good girl," he purred.

Kseniya wondered if the German spoke English, which she was quite fluent in, as befitted an honors science student. But even if he did, so what?

Karl wouldn't care that he was getting sucked off by a girl who dreamed of becoming a cosmologist and perhaps even a cosmonaut. All Karl cared about was getting his money's worth of blow job from a grubby maid in a grubby hotel. And that was all that Kseniya was now, a dirty overworked servant for people who were rich enough to make her do whatever they wanted, grinning foreigners who could pull her strings and make her perform for them like a puppet. Foreigners who knew that even if Kseniya refused them, there were Russian girls without number eager to be bought and used.

END OF PART ONE

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