Tabula Rasa. White’s move. Territory of Seduction - Chapter #1 - Free To Read

Tabula Rasa - (Latin - smooth, clean board). To write a new text on a wax tablet, the old text erased (the wax was smoothed); in a figurative sense, Tabula Rasa means the of the old meaning for the sake of the new.

She was the first person I can remember who looked straight at me as if I .

Polina

I like to wake up early. The city is still sleepy, the streets empty, the sounds echoing, and at early hour it is like the sea in the calm - quiet and clear.

It's my favorite time of day. Every morning, I make a wish for what the new day will be like.

I draw in my head events, meetings with unfamiliar, interesting people. In the evening, it's fun to my morning fantasies and what really happened during the day. This ritual is my personal magic that fills my life with emotions.

I stretch under the light blanket, squinting my left eye through the gap between the curtains, a clear, golden sunbeam and greeting it with a smile.

- Good morning, - I said aloud to myself and jumped out of bed. I open the window, letting sun into the room, and admire the roofs of the neighboring houses. The sun is still as gentle as a , and I can watch its rising rays with a visor on my forehead.

Today I dreamed something good, pleasant, hopefully the day will continue with my dreams.

I throw off my short silk T-shirt, turn on the music, and Rock Mafia blares through the room.

Great, this is it. I left the bathroom door open, turned on the shower, and stood under the cool jets of .

While I'm shampooing, I'm thinking about what I want to wish for today. As I rub the into my hair, I realize clearly that I want something from work today. I want to get an . Why not work for someone as a translator? And maybe that someone will be interesting.

Maybe it'll be a man. And why shouldn't he be young? I smile at my thoughts. Ha-ha, what will Igor to that? He won't say anything. It's just a job.

I rinse my hair and continue meditating. Igor. What are we going to do with him tonight?

Most likely, we'll go to a restaurant or somewhere else, to a club, for example. Since tonight I'm to spend the evening in Igor's company, I want it to be different from the usual - measured predictable. Tonight I want a story to remember. Tonight I want a drive.

Soaking my body, wrapping a turban around my head. What kind of adventure should I ? Nothing comes to mind, so I hope for a surprise.

I study myself in the mirror - my eyes are shining, as if something is sparkling inside. Oh, 's going to happen today! At the very least, I'll make a "mess in Shanghai" myself. I can that.

I fill the coffee machine with beans, pour water into the reservoir, load thin slices of rye into the toaster, cut cheese and peel an orange. On the balcony I set up a cafeteria for myself - a small table I arrange dishes and utensils, take out the food on a tray. The aroma of coffee tickles my nostrils. I take a sip of it with pleasure - it's hot sunshine inside, so much so I even cover my eyes in bliss.

I'm thinking. I had almost everything, except that I hadn't thought of what I wanted my new to be like. Let him be about thirty, relaxed and brunette. Brunettes are usually brutal sexy guys. Blondes don't appeal to me at all. Not my thing. I get funny from my own thoughts, one on another, what difference does it make how he will look like, if I have Igor and I 't need a man. But I still want the person I'm going to work with as a translator to be pleasant to to, to have a lot of topics to talk about. Here! Let him be a pleasant conversationalist. I want to be interesting to me! Looks are secondary.

The day has begun. I still have a couple of hours to review documents, read articles, and up a report on yesterday's market analysis. I set my notebook on the table and plunge into the , making notes in the margins.

The noise outside the window is gaining strength. Soon it is the noise of the city, which is and pulsating in its usual rhythm. In half an hour, I will be in the thick of its events, become part of it, become part of its mode, and start living according to its laws.

My cell phone rings. It's Alexandra. Alexandra is the head of the public relations department the largest art center in Ukraine, Art Center. Did I really "prophesize" a job for myself? When one the foreign artists arrives, I am invited as an interpreter, and sometimes as an accompanying , i.e. someone who helps the guest during the day, but it happens rarely, only when there many guests and there are important ones who need special attention.

- Yes, Sasha, I'm listening.

- Polina, hi. How's your time today? - Her voice is deep, velvety, but as stern as ever.

- Just planning to call you, - I smile into the phone.

- That's great. Get here as soon as you can. I'll explain everything later, - I disconnect the call giggle. Oh, my gosh! I got myself a job today! Well, let's see how good a predictor I am, but, mind, the main thing is that the first point of the program is fulfilled.

The day promises to be hot - I put on a white sleeveless blouse with an American armhole a stand-up collar, a linen, strictly cut gray skirt up to my knees, took out dark gray sandals with toe heels - everything according to the dress code. I look at myself in the mirror. I look like a in this blouse. But I don't have anything strict - who knows what kind of frame I'm with. What if he has a press conference scheduled for today? And what does it matter how

I look like, the main thing is to do my job as usual: translate, be attentive, and be able to represent receiving party with dignity. I leave my hair loose, if I put it in a ponytail, I will definitely look a high school student. I put some mascara on my eyelashes, a transparent gloss on my lips, a few drops of my favorite Angel and Demon on myself - that's it!

As usual, there's nowhere to park near the office, and it's still only half past ten. "This is

Kyiv, baby, - I say to myself. I find a place a block away from "Parus" and park my car very , squeezing it between two huge jeeps. It's good that my car is "A" class and takes up little . "It's cozy, - I praise myself mentally for filigree parking on a piece of asphalt. I adjust my , which cover half of my face, and flutter towards the office center.

The Art Center office is located in a building that is considered one of the tallest in the city is on the top floor, where I have a unique view of my beloved Kyiv. On the one hand - the of Lavra and the Dnipro river, spreading in the very center of the city, on the other hand - a of the city with its rooftops and streets-arteries, on which the flow of cars moves, as if the distills the blood. I stop for a moment at the full-wall window, admiring the panorama. Then I out a mirror, fix my lip gloss, applying another layer to draw attention away from my perfectly , makeup-free face to my lips, and run my finger over my eyebrows. I don't want to look like underage teenager, it always makes my "mentees" suspicious, but I want to respond, to look . At least for my age!

In the open foyer, on a white office couch sits a balding man in dark aviator glasses, dressed an austere suit of light fabric. This must be the guest to whom I'll be translating today. "So much the fortune teller. No one at all, - I’m laughing at myself. Let it be as I wished, so that he would an interesting interlocutor, I hope that this item of the "menu" of wishes will be fulfilled.

I nod to the office manager and head straight for Alexandra. I know she's waiting for me.

- Hi, - I smile, poking my head through the door.

- Oh, Polinka, come in quickly, - Sasha gestured for me to sit down in the chair by the table, she herself was rummaging through the papers.

- Well, darling, we have a force majeure. You know that in three days the opening of the big , everyone is busy, and Inna has her own problems, something at home, she had to leave.

It's a big mess. I can't get everything done. She had to work with one of the artists, all ten days of visit to us, - Alexandra rubs her forehead, the first sign of her inner nervousness.

- Ten days?! - I, in turn, round my eyes.

- Yeah, all ten days. And tomorrow and on Friday he’ll have a lunch with his boss, three conferences. So... Next, - Alexandra stops talking, looks at something on the laptop screen, aloud: - Three dinners with representatives of various organizations, interviews for FHM and

Playboy magazines, radio interviews and TV shoots. And also, a personal request from the boss , that in your free time, you make time for him as much as possible, so that he is less alone.

There are a lot of guests, and we must give them all the attention they will need.

- Is he a high-flying bird like that? - I'm internally tense. Playboy interview? What kind of is that? Such a responsible visitor was not trusted to me until today. Apparently

Alexandra reads the apprehension on my face.

- Polina, I know. I know. There's a first time for everything. The boss wasn't very happy this turn of events either, but... - she spreads her hands. - Not much of a choice. You've proven to be very good, and don't forget, we've been working with you for three years. That's a time, - she emphasizes with pressure, as if to convince herself. - I'm sure of you. Otherwise I 't have considered your candidacy, - Alexandra adds more gently. - And if you refuse... It be a disaster!

- Is it someone mega-famous? - I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wasn't excited the prospect of being tied to an old man in the waiting room for ten days.

- I wouldn't say. To my shame, I don't know much about him. He agreed to exhibit just the day. But you know the boss, he finds specimens that no one would even consider, and he knows with his gut whether a master is worthy or not. He was happy he got this guy to say . His name is Max Cameron. Allegedly not just talented, but almost the Monet of today. Google . All I can tell you is that his paintings are selling at an insane rate for private collections. I'll e- you all the data on him, - she says. She writes a number on a piece of paper and shows it to me.

- This is what you'll get if you agree to do all ten days of work.

I look at the number, and my eyes go to my forehead. A four-digit number is rare in this . And to get it in ten days... But on the other hand, there's so many events, there's no time to . No time. What does Igor have to say about this?!

He won't say anything, I realize immediately, if he knows it's a directive from the boss .

The boss is an unquestioned authority in the business world, backed by his billion-dollar and dominance in several manufacturing sectors of the country, a man of exceptional taste a connoisseur of the arts in a variety of fields. He is also a philanthropist and, in general, a of exceptional importance. And if I have to have dinner or lunch with him tomorrow, or I'm going to have with my ward, Igor will shove his claims to the back of his mind. I his awe of the big men. He himself helped me at one time to establish contact with the "Art

Center". Well, all I have to do is put Igor on the spot.

I nod my head, clearing my throat:

- It's a little scary, but I'll get over it.

- Perfect, - Alexandra says. - He'll be in the office in... - she looks at the laptop monitor. -

Literally in a couple of minutes.

- I think he's already sitting in the lobby, - I inform him in an apologetic tone, shrugging my .

Alexandra nervously jumps up and runs to the door.

- When did he have time? I called him a cab to the hotel at ten, - she looks out the door, and I the smile spreading across her face. She turns to me with the corner of her lips, skillfully her surprise:

- What are you, all-seeing?

I shrug again, and what's the surprise if he was already in the foyer. Alexandra cheerfully the guest in perfect American English-she has impeccable schooling, and could translate if she had the time. I hear him reply, in a low and melodious voice, quite young for his age. I in my chair toward the door and stand, straightening into a string as Alexandra lets the man into office. It's a moment like this that could be called a "commercial break": I barely catch my jaw, to drop, and feel my eyes rounding as a young, tall, blond man stands before me, smiling the charming smile I've ever seen in my life.

- Let me introduce you to each other, - Alexandra chirped, her cheeks flaming as if she had too much rouge. - Max, this is Polina, your accompanying interpreter. Polina, this is Max, our , who you will be helping during your visit to Ukraine, - she says something else, but because the noise in my ears I can't hear anything, I can only stare at him, batting my eyelashes.

Oh, my God! This isn't the guy from the lobby?! My "mentee" is young, I wouldn't give him than thirty, tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome. What's not handsome, he's fucking . Viciously handsome. That's a bummer. I realize I'm staring at him with my eyes wide . He's staring at me, too, with a sliding, slow, bottom-up gaze. His smile is ironic, and it's aimed at my stupor.

- Polina, Polina, - Alexandra's voice snapped me out of my reverie. I turn my head in her as if mesmerized, and point the rim of the sunglasses I'm rubbing in my hands toward the :

- Who's in there? - I'm talking to her.

And then I was electrocuted, and in all two hundred and twenty of them. I jump up and and let out a loud gasp. God, it was just Mr. Cameroons touching my arm. Through the cotton in my ears from the exertion, I hear his voice, his voice enveloping me like a :

- Robert Martinez, the sculptor, is in the lobby, - he said, a smile in his voice, and I turned head slowly in his direction. His gray-blue eyes are beaming with laughter, his sensual mouth - God, why did I look at it! - A man's handsome mouth is my weakness! - stretched in a mocking . I lower my eyes to his hand holding mine. His fingers are long, strong, supple. He shakes lightly, and playfully continues:

- I hope I haven't disappointed you too much, Ms. Pol-i-n, that I'm not him, - stressing the syllable in my name, as all Americans usually pronounce it, and nodding toward the .

Automatically, I shake his fingers in return. He smiled even wider, and I jerked my hand .

However, what an awkward situation! I slowly come to my senses and look up at him.

- No, Max, you didn't disappoint me, - I smile with all my thirty-two teeth. - I'm used to with gray hair or at least wrinkles - "One - one". I give myself a point in the invisible .

- I had no idea that my translator would be so young, - Max answers me and looks at

Alexandra questioningly.

- Max, don't worry, Polina is one of our best translators. She's experienced, - Alexandra the word "experienced.

- My appearance is deceptive, - I said, smiling peacefully. - I hope I don't disappoint you.

- No, no, I never doubted your abilities, - Max quickly interjects. - Your English is brilliant. I didn't expect to see such a young and, um, - he hesitates, looking at me again, "beautiful girl.

Shall we work? - his left eyebrow raises, an ironic smile playing on his lips again. My heart sinks my stomach, into the stomach area. "I don't care for blondes at all!" - I mentally note to myself some reason. Why am I thinking this now?

Alexandra invites Max to take a seat on a couch by the exact same full-wall window as the in the hall. I join them. Max sits down, putting his leg over my leg and wrapping his interlocked around my knee. Through half-dropped eyelashes, I peer at him blankly. His tight white T- suits him well, emphasizing the relief of his broad shoulders, athletic forearms, and narrow . In the V-shaped, rather deep neckline in the latest fashion, which slightly opens the line of chest, sunglasses ultra-trendy in this season's form, in bright frames. Pale blue jeans are , but not tight, loosely held on the hips. On her feet are bright blue barefoot loafers. On his is a sports watch, with a strap to match the loafers and the frames of his glasses. On the ring and little finger of his right hand are two massive, wide gold rings, called "nuts" among my . The ring on his ring finger is decorated with an unusual engraving of some kind of , and on his little finger it is wide, smooth, but it seems to have a notch in the middle, I can't see it well.

"Fashionable whippersnapper, - I remarked to myself.

I guessed my own interlocutor, and not for one, but for ten whole days! Although he was not brunette, but a representative of blondes, who were not interesting to me, but he was so good- that it overrode any previous beliefs. There's something else about him besides beauty. I 't make out what it is yet: I'm too absorbed in studying his outer shell. I'll have time to see if he's interesting conversationalist.

Max looks over the plan of the visit and hands me a copy, so that I could familiarize myself the schedule of our movements. Today is a relatively free day: according to the plan, we only a visit to the exhibition hall to coordinate the placement of his works at the exposition.

Tomorrow we have much more to do: lunch with the boss, a visit to two salons that are planning to with Cameroons.

Max turns to me:

- Polina, can you show me around the city today? Maybe we could walk around the center?

- Yes, of course, - I nodded. - Let's take a walk now, before we visit the exhibition center.

- Great, - he agreed, turning to Alexandra. - Can we go now?

She nods and we say goodbye and walk towards the elevator, I point Max towards the :

- There is an option to go to Lavra, or walk to the Golden Gate. You can't see them from , they are behind the houses.

He looks down at me from his height, tilting his head slightly, and I can't take my eyes off lips, then my gaze moves to his sensual jugular. There's a pulse beating in it, and somehow such small thing seems so intimate that I feel a blush of embarrassment wash over me.

- I'd like to just walk around the central part of the city for now, maybe take a walk to the , get some air. I'm not used to the time zone yet, - he explains. - I could use a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee, - he laughs. He has a very pleasant, infectious laugh. And I smile back at him.

- I get you, Max, - I like his name, so I say it, savoring it. - I hope you like it.

As we take the elevator downstairs and walk to my car, I answer his questions and laugh at a of his very good jokes about jet lag. I feel light and comfortable, as if we've known each forever.