18
Caught Blue-Handed
I followed Alexei out of the door, pulling my knickers back up as if we’d just been you-know-whatting. Alexei buckled up his belt, a couple of the other guests doing the same, as Irina, Katya and Christina emerged into the hallway, arranging their outfits.
We trudged downstairs into the lobby, where Antonenko was standing, flanked by Nikolai and his wife, Arina, a tissue held up to a tearful eye. Antonenko stood legs apart in front of the entrance to the house, hands behind his back and a face brighter than a red-hot poker. We all gathered together in the lobby. Staff, girls, guests, security and all. Alexei leaned casually against a staircase pillar, hand in a trouser pocket.
“There you go, Daddy,” he said to Antonenko. “I f****d your little w***e girl. Happy now
