Good Intentions (Samogon 1) (3 page)

Within six months, Richard had established a small reliable base of customers.
What was supposed to be a little hobby was quickly becoming a lucrative second job. Over the next fourteen years, Richard had paid off much of the mortgage and had put enough cash aside for Rochelle to go to college, which was his primary concern. He even managed to put a nice amount of cash aside for Louise and him to vacation with while Rochelle was at college.

***

Rochelle and her girlfriends were pulling up to the house at the same time her dad’s farmhand, Chris Porter, was returning with a truckload of apricots and apples. Louise Donovan waved to them from the front porch as Rochelle jumped out.

“
Hola,
Mrs. Donovan!” yelled Jennifer and Leah in unison.

“
Hola,
girls!” Louise was smiling as she went back in the house. Like her father, Louise was so proud of her daughter. The milestone was just two weeks away.

Rochelle waved goodbye to her pals.
“I’ll see ya Monday! Bye!” She then made her way over to Chris as he was unloading the truck.

Chris Porter was twenty-one years old.
He lived down the road with his ailing mother on a four-acre piece of crappy land. They were poor. Rochelle and he were two of the few black kids in Ashland. He stood six foot two with a rock solid two hundred and ten pound frame, shaved head, and nineteen inch arms, and was strong as an ox.

When he was just fifteen he started off as a typical hand laboring at everything on the farm.
Richard discovered that the boy had a real knack for welding and construction. Although Chris was not too academically smart, he was very wise and clever. Richard related to the boy in many ways and took him in like the son he never had.

Soon thereafter, Richard brought Chris into his whiskey business and had him cleaning the stills, preparing fruit and corn for the mash, and helping to bottle the finished product.
Chris impressed Mr. Donovan, not so much with his hard work, but with his ability to keep his mouth shut about what they were doing. After school he would go straight to the Donovan farm and work until eight o'clock at night. On weekends he was there by seven in the morning and worked through the evening. He practically lived at the Donovan farm.

Rochelle had had a crush on Chris ever since she was twelve.
Now she was eighteen, fully developed, and had a strong sexual appetite. Last summer she started flirting with Chris, vying for his attention, and she definitely got it. Chris treated her like a queen, and at the same time he tried to keep his distance out of respect to her father. He knew everything Mr. Donovan did was for his daughter.

Rochelle made her way to Chris' side, rubbing her breasts against him as she passed by.

“Hey big boy, did you miss me?” She discretely reached out with an open palm and let her hand slide across his crotch.

Chris smiled.
She loved to tease him, and he loved being teased. It made the sex between them more intense. She gave him one last look over her shoulder before she entered the house.

Chris' relationship with Rochelle was not known to anyone.
On rare occasions he would take Rochelle out for an evening, but usually their time together was spent at the farm. He knew she dated a white boy from school, but it didn’t bother him too much. What bothered him was that his feelings for her ran deep and she didn’t seem to take him seriously.

Because of his relationship with Mr. Donovan and the whiskey business, Chris didn’t run around like everyone else his age.
He was very mature for a young black man, keeping a low profile, saving his money, and staying home.

Monday rolled arou
nd too fast and Rochelle was back at school. Only days now until graduation. She sat in study hall with Jennifer discussing the senior party and bonfire that Jennifer would be hosting on her parents’ Ashland estate.

“So, my brother is picking up four kegs for us.”
Jennifer was eager and couldn’t wait for Saturday to get here. “My parents are driving to Lexington on Friday, so Leah and you can spend the night.”

“What about your brother?
I thought he was going with your parents. How is he getting the kegs
and
going with your parents?”

“He’s going to
pick up the kegs Thursday night, then leave with my parents the next day.” Jennifer leaned into Rochelle with a wicked grin and whispered, “Mark will be staying with me, and Leah is bringing her boyfriend. You should bring Mikhail.”

“Are you crazy?
Spend the night with him?” Rochelle was shocked at her friend’s suggestion.

“Why not
? I know you’ve been messing with him at almost every party. He’s been in your pants since he got here. You’re not fooling anybody. Hell, he’s with you every time the gang is together. It’s just the three of us Friday night. The party’s not until Saturday.”

“Who knows about us?”

“Everybody, silly,” Jennifer said, laughing. “Are you really that naive to think no one was paying attention to the smoking-hot black chick and the Russian prince? Get real, girl. The only secret is that everyone knows
your
secret.”

“Shut up,” Rochelle said, embarrassed and feeling exposed.
“Who I hook-up with is my business. Besides, we’re not an item. I don’t have time for dating and he goes home in June. And my dad would beat all the black off my ass if he knew I was with a white boy.”

That took Jennifer back a bit.
“I never would have guessed that with your father. Sounds like he’s as racist as those Klansmen running around here.”

“Why do you think they leave him alone?” Rochelle smirked, catching Jennifer by surprise.
“Nah, he’s just real conservative and wants to see me marry a black man.”

“Like that big buck working your farm?”
Jennifer couldn’t hold back.

Having heard that, Rochelle started to think of Chris.
Her father would love to see them together. She liked Chris and how he treated her. They hadn't spent a lot of time together, but she could still remember every moment. As strong as he was, he had the gentlest hands. He never once hurt her or made her uncomfortable. But to her, he was nothing more than a poor-ass black man slaving on a farm―she wanted more.

“Why not.
I’ll ask him,” said Rochelle.

“Perfect!”
Jennifer was excited. “I’ll see you and Mikhail Friday night.”

***

Mikhail Rimsky was the hot, dark-haired Russian exchange student. A true European heart throb. His family was from Volgograd, a transshipment center of Russia that hosted a large railroad hub and major port along the Volga River. No one knew that Mikhail’s father was a mob boss who controlled all the industrial and commercial shipping in and out of Volgograd.

Mikhail had two older brothers in America along with several cousins.
Nikolay Rimsky ran a couple of nightclubs and restaurants in New York, which were mere fronts for laundering money from drugs and gun running. Peter Rimsky was planted in Cincinnati with a lucrative construction company. He, too, operated a nightclub which was a front for illegal operations. In Columbus, Ohio, Peter operated a college bar and a restaurant near the Ohio State campus where he got his start twenty years ago. The Rimsky brothers were good earners for their father. They had loyal crews who were smart and low key. They kept the right people paid off, and made sure that all business was kept off the street and out of the public’s eye. Any policing that had to be done was performed quietly and discretely.

Mikhail’s father used a few political connections to get him approved as an exchange student for America.
At first, Mikhail wasn’t interested in heading to America, but he was left with no choice―he had been caught stealing out of rail cars from the very people who were paying the Rimskys for protection. And a war was beginning in the city of Saratov―northeast of Volgograd―where the Rimsky family didn’t enjoy a stronghold. The last thing the don wanted was for his seventeen-year-old son to be caught in a crossfire that didn’t involve the family.

The plan was for Mikhail to attend school in Cincinnati or in New York where he would have one of his older brothers nearby.
But the closest Mikhail could get to Cincinnati was the small foothills of Ashland, Kentucky, about two hours away.

Mikhail spent his senior year living with the Cartwrights, a conservative middle-class family with two daughters.
Tricia, the oldest, was in Mikhail’s senior class. Tammy was just starting her freshman year.

When Mikhail arrived in Ashland in late July he was completely out of his element.
Here he was, a fast moving, big-city teenager stuck in a backwards hillbilly of a town. He didn’t care for any of the other boys. The girls were all drawn to him, although none of them could keep his eye―except one.

It was the last summer party before the start of their senior year when he met Rochelle.
Her light brown skin and long dark hair, coupled with those green eyes made her an exotic beauty he just had to have. It wasn’t long before she was feeling the same about him. At least once a month they would hook-up at some party.

***

When the bell rang that Friday afternoon, Rochelle headed out to her car. “I’ll see you girls around seven after I pick up Mikhail.”

At home she found Chris at the kitchen table having an early dinner.
Her mom had a basket of fried chicken and a plate of tamales sitting in the middle of the table, along with a large bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of corn on the cob.

Rochelle ran a finger through the potatoes and stuck it in her mouth.
Her lips puckered as she slowly pulled her finger from her mouth, winking at Chris.

Her mother slapped her on the ass and kissed her.
“Keep your fingers out of the bowl. Sit down. Your father will eat later. Chris is on his second plate. Are you still planning on spending the weekend at Jennifer’s?”

“Yep, but I’ll be home Sunday morning before lunch.”

After she finished eating, Rochelle headed for the shower to get ready for the night. Behind the house a curious little
friend
of Rochelle’s sat in the tall grass. Her father and Chris were oblivious to his presence as they finished working out back. He always crept up to the back of the house through the tree line, then behind the wood pile, and quickly across the clovers and into the tall grass. Windows were plenty in the back of the house. He could always see Rochelle in her room because she never closed her curtains.

After a long hot shower, Rochelle stood in front of a mirror rubbing lotion on her legs, and then she saw him.
She always enjoyed his little visits. It was unusual behavior for a rabbit. For four years she kept him a secret and named him Peter Rabbit.

Like he would always do, after watching her for a few minutes he would slip back into the
tree line and disappear.

As she left the house, Chris met her in the drive with a small box.
“I know this is your last senior bash and I want you to have a good time with your girlfriends, so I got you a little party gift. Pop your trunk.”

“Chris, what are you up to?”
Excitedly, she popped the car’s trunk. “What is it?”

“Moonshine.
Two gallons of apricot brandy and a gallon of white lightning. Leave it in your trunk behind everything until you get to your girlfriend’s.”

“Chris, baby, you didn’t have to do this.
We got a bunch of kegs. Where did you get this?”

“Doesn’t matter.
Now listen to me, baby girl. You can’t drink this like you do beer or that other lightweight shit you girls drink. This will knock you on your ass if you drink too much, especially the white lightning. The apricot brandy goes down smooth, so go easy with it.”

“U
h, are you worried I might get sick and pass out? Will you come get me if I can’t drive home?” Rochelle started giggling as she teased Chris and leaned up to kiss him.

“Just be cool with this stuff.
And don’t let your dad know.”

***

It was after seven when Rochelle and Mikhail arrived at the O’Dwyer estate. After everyone was settled in, Rochelle broke out the moonshine for some drinking games. The apricot brandy was a hit. The three couples ignored Chris’ words of wisdom and kept drinking. Mikhail was the only one drinking the white lightning.

Ideas started flowing through Mikhail’s mind.
He had a lot questions that he wanted answers to, so he slowed down on the drinking. He let Rochelle keep drinking, wanting her as lucid as possible. As the night slowed down, Mikhail led Rochelle back to one of the guest bedrooms. She was drunk, exactly as Mikhail wanted her.

The two young lovers embraced and she gave Mikhail a slow kiss.
He eased Rochelle down on the bed and just stared at her with animal lust. Rochelle smiled as she stretched her arms back above her head while pressing her feet and toes into Mikhail’s crotch.

Mikhail smiled back at her and took his shirt off.
He reached down and unbuttoned Rochelle’s jeans and pulled them off. Her slender brown legs rubbed together. Mikhail knelt down and slid his hands up her thighs, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her white-laced panties and slowly pulled them down. Rochelle’s breathing was getting faster and heavier.

Mikhail parted her thighs and placed her legs over his shoulders.
He leaned in and kissed her inner thigh, suckling and kissing. Her folds glistened. His mouth and tongue brought her to the edge.

She clawed the sheets with one hand and held Mikhail in her thighs with the other.
Mikhail inserted two fingers inside her while he continued to pleasure her with his mouth. His fingers made large circular motions, stretching every side of her inner walls. He then leaned up smiling.

He pressed his fingers as deep as he could and curled them upwards, rubbing her g-spot forwards and backwards.
He placed the palm of his other hand on the low end of her belly to apply a little more stimulation.

Rochelle bit down on her lower lip and grabbed the sheets.
She arched her back and drove her shoulders into the mattress, thrusting her hips up off the bed.

Mikhail reached up under her blouse and took her breast into his hand with a firm squeeze.
Rochelle exploded in ecstasy. “
Oh, my God, Mikhail.
”

Mikhail leaned forward into her thighs and savored every drop of honey.
For the next hour he took her every way he knew how. Afterward, she curled up next to him exhausted.

“Rochelle, tell me about the moonshine.
Where did you get it? Is it something you can get regularly?”

“I take it you liked it.
But don’t you want to talk about me instead? I’m something you can get regularly, at least until you leave.”

“I will tell you a secret, love, if you promise to tell me about the moonshine.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not going home.
I’m going to Cincinnati to work with my brother Peter through the summer. Then I’m going to work for him in Columbus.”

The news of his staying sobered Rochelle.
“You’re not leaving? Why didn’t you tell me? You shit, why didn’t you say something?”

Laughing at her emotions
, he responded, “I’m telling you now. We’ll talk about it more. We've got all weekend. But now, tell me about the moonshine.”

“I don’t know much about it.
My friend got it for us.”

“Can your friend get this on a regular basis?”

“I suppose. Why?”

“Because I can sell this quickly.
People like this stuff and they will pay big dollars for it. My brothers could sell it in their clubs for fifteen, even twenty dollars a glass.”

“
So, what do you want me to do?” Rochelle wasn’t that interested in what Mikhail was talking about.

“I want you to find out how much your friend can get and what it will cost me.
Will you do that for me?”

“Maybe.”
A devious smile stretched across her face. “Maybe if you pleasure me some more.”

And while Mikhail buried himself in her thighs, Rochelle thought of Chris and started purring.
Mikhail was clueless to her thoughts. It might have been Mikhail’s mouth stimulating her but it was thoughts of Chris that got her off. All night they loved each other until they passed out.

***