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scripsiIt's my day of posting fanfic today. I wrote two Queen's Gambit-fics for Chocolate Box, and then turned around and started with a sequel to the first. New fandom for me, so if you read them I'd love to hear what you think.
Title: Taking the White Queen (A Lesson in Patience)
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3612
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: Light bondage, spanking, M/f, vaginal sex, light bdsm
Summary: A reward for a game well played. And a lesson.
I have a basic knowledge of chess, but I know very little of the ins and outs of chess tournaments in the ’60s. I hope I’m forgiven for inventing a tournament in Finland.
The fic on AO3
Moscow, By Night
Beth returned to the hotel after she had played with the old men in the park, beating them all to their utter delight. She was met with both American and Russian officials, all very upset with her. But Beth barely listened to their scolding, her mind still too filled with yesterday’s victory, and the wonderful walk through Moscow. And in the end, the only thing which happened was a new flight scheduled for the next day, and a promise extracted from her to stay in the car this time. Then she was given back the room she had vacated in the morning, and after dinner she excused herself, claiming fatigue and the need to sleep before tomorrow’s early flight.
But Beth wasn’t the slightest bit tired. It felt like she never would be again, and she restlessly paced around her room. Despite her success, something was lacking, something she couldn’t define. So much had been won; she had finally beaten Vasily Borgov, and she was one step closer to become World Champion. And she would get there, she was sure. But now, right now, she had no reason to not relax and enjoy what she had accomplished. The problem was that thinking of it also meant thinking of Borgov. Somehow she couldn’t stop thinking of his smile when she had beaten him, and his unexpected embrace. It had stirred something in her, and it was that something which made Beth circle her room instead of going to bed.
To distract herself, Beth unpacked her chess set and tried to do a chess problem. But she cared little for them under any circumstances, and she quickly abandoned it again. When there was a quiet knock on her door, Beth knew she had half expected it all evening and was not surprised when she opened her door and Borgov slipped inside. He looked around the room before he looked at her, and though he seemed as calm and composure as always, Beth could still feel how the surrounding atmosphere suddenly seemed charged with new nervous energy.
“I heard you were still here, and I wanted to congratulate you again.”
“Thank you.”
“I have never played chess with anyone like you before.”
“Because I’m a girl?”
“No. You are exceptional, and your sex has nothing to do with it.”
He glanced at the chessboard. “Do you find chess problems diverting?”
“Not really. But I enjoy speed chess. Do you?”
He shook his head. “I have never played it. It seems the very opposite of what chess is about.”
Beth smiled. “Do you want to try?”
He considered her question for a moment before he nodded, and Beth couldn’t deny the thrill she felt of playing with him again. And she beat him. Not as quickly as Benny had beaten her, and vice versa, but she beat him again.
“It’s quite different from ordinary chess; I was soundly beaten when I first tried it.”
He gave her a small half-smile. “You don’t need to soften the blow. And now I ought to go.”
“Why not another game right now?”
“And another, and then another? Nevermind there will be no sleep, no rest? Because nothing is more important than chess?”
“Of course, nothing is more important. And I believe you feel the same way.”
“I do. We wouldn’t be here, you and I, if it wasn’t so. And in the end, chess is the only thing that will prevail. The love before any other loves. And believe me, even if you say nothing, those you love will know they can never be first, and in the end, they will resent you for it.”
Beth looked at him and wondered why he was confiding in her. They had only said a handful of words to each other before. But it felt like she had known him for years, and perhaps he felt the same.
“But you have your family.”
“My family, yes. My son finds chess boring; his passion is airplanes. And my wife-”
There was a brief pause. Borgov picked up a black pawn and studied it for a second before he put it down again beside the board.
“My wife is divorcing me. She says she will be thrilled if she never sees a chess game again for the rest of her life.”
“But what if you think you have found someone who loves chess a much as you do?”
“Like who? Your Mr. Townes, or perhaps Benny Watts?”
Beth ignored the not wholly pleasant notion he knew so much about her affairs. “No, not them.”
“Even so; the people in your life will always come and go, but chess is constant. And no, I will not play with you more tonight.”
Beth opened the door for him but then nodded at the chessboard. “You should have taken the queen again.”
Borgov stopped.
“Perhaps I should have.” And suddenly he reached out an arm and pushed the door closed, and Beth found herself standing with her back against it, his hands resting on each side of her shoulders. “Perhaps it’s not too late.”
From one breath to another, the tension around them grew even stronger. They stood so close together Beth could see the day-old stubble on Borgov’s cheeks and feel the warmth of his body like a herald to embrace. She wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it more than she could ever remember wanting a kiss before, and her lips felt swollen with longing.
“Will you stay then?”
“I would like to. But not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Rush, rush, rush, Miss Harmon. Speed chess. Speed sex too? You are a very impatient young woman.”
He kissed her cheek, his lips warm and firm again her skin, and then he was gone. Beth stared at the closed door in surprised disappointment, then she shrugged and went to bed. But there was no sleep that night.
Helsinki, By Day
The next time Beth met Borgov was at a chess tournament in Helsinki, five months later. It was not a big tournament, but Beth went because she was invited, because the prize money was good and, most of all, hoping Finland’s proximity to Soviet would mean Borgov would come.
She found she liked Helsinki for its own sake. It seemed like you could see the Baltic sea from everywhere, and she was especially pleased that her hotel room overlooked the harbor. The spring was colder than she was used to, but the evenings had a luminous light that lingered and made the days longer. When the games were over for the day she strolled the city, inhaled the fresh and briny air, and felt pleased with herself when she could spot architectural remnants from Finland’s time as a Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire. One day she even took a ferry to a fortress on an island, built by the Swedes in the 18th century when Finland had been a province of that country. She drank tea at Kappeli, a pavilion mostly made by glass, like a dream of a Russian palace, and missed Alma a lot. Her mother would have loved to walk the streets with her, and sampling the restaurants and cafes. But in the end, Helsinki was just a backdrop to what mattered; chess.
Beth saw Borgov the first evening at dinner. He was eating at the other end of the hotel’s dining room, surrounded, as usual, by a bevy of other players, assistants, and KGB agents. But not, Beth noticed, accompanied by his wife anymore. He had a new interpreter, a dour-looking man who blended well into the background. Not that she noticed anyone much apart from Borgov. Though she didn’t want to be caught staring at him, she stole enough glances to see he hadn’t changed since she saw him last. He finished eating before her and passing her on the way out he looked at her. Their eyes met, but when she smiled at him, he only inclined his head slightly. It didn’t matter. Beth’s heart soared in a mingling of joy and nervousness. She had beaten him in Moscow, but he had won twice before; she was not sure she could repeat her victory again.
Before Beth could meet Borgov again; and she never considered the possibility she would not, she had many other games to win. So she firmly put Borgov out of her mind; it wouldn’t do to think the other chess players would be easy to conquer. The last thing she wanted was to be so cocky she became sloppy and lost by sheer carelessness. Beth played her best every single game, carefully and successfully winning again and again. And then, finally, the day she was to meet Borgov again came.
Ever since Beth had started to win money, she had spent a lot of those on her wardrobe, and she had spent considerable time choosing her clothes for this tournament. For Borgov she had chosen a simple black dress in tussah silk. Its softly rough texture and dull shine seemed to underline how shiny her red hair was, and though she wore it without jewelry, its neckline was decorated with a speckle of spangles, like a glittering necklace. Beth stared at her mirror image for a long time, smoothing the fabric over her hips. This time she was not terrified over meeting Borgov, but she was still nervous. She might have won once, she didn’t feel the speed chess really counted, but he had bested her twice. And today she was playing black.
The room was packed with spectators, but Beth only saw the man in front of her. Borgov was as immaculate as ever in a dark suit, with a red and gold tie for a single splash of color. He was standing by the table, and when she took his outstretched hand, he bowed a little over it. They sat down, Borgov opened the game, and Beth stopped being nervous. Regardless of the outcome, this was their game. They had no past now, and the future only what moves they could envision. Nothing else mattered. Every move she made was just for him, and his only for her. It was a conversation without words, only the chess pieces threading an intricate dance on the board.
After, Beth would think she had played one of the best games of her life, but it didn’t help. This time Borgov slowly but relentlessly pushed her into a corner and she realized she had no other option than to resign. Disappointment churned inside her, but she remembered how graciously Borgov had accepted his loss, and she managed to smile, and even sound sincere in her congratulations.
When they shook hands, she leaned into him a little. “Next time I will play better.”
He smiled a little, a small smile just for her. “I know you will.”
Helsinki, By Night
Back in her room, Beth went over their game repeatedly on her own board. She had played well, no doubt about it, it was just that Borgov had played better. He had, she was sure, studied her as intensely as she had him, and had needed to win as much as well. With a small sigh, Beth pushed the chessboard away. Borgov had had the advantage of playing white, and he also had his experience, both of which Beth had no control over, The only thing she could do was to be better the next time.
Running her hand through her hair, she stood up and stretched. Now, when the tournament was over, she could think of other things. Other things which were still about Borgov, and that night in Moscow. Had he not all but said he would come back again or had she read too much into his words?
It wasn’t just her dresses Beth had spent careful consideration over. She had bought a nightgown for her last night in Helsinki, and after a bath, she pulled it on. It was very short, saved by indecency by a pair of matching panties, but very full. Yards of gossamer-thin white silk swirled around her body when she moved. It was cut low too, revealing the top of her breasts, and Beth felt it was very much something you wore when you had someone who could admire you wearing it. But would he come? For a moment she considered just going to bed, but then there was that quiet knock on her door. With her stomach suddenly filled with butterflies, Beth hurried to open it.
Borgov was still dressed in his dark suit, but he had changed his shirt, and he was newly shaved, a faint scent of cologne, wafted against Beth when he passed her into the room. As soon as the door closed, she put her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him, but he put his hands on her shoulders and made her take a step back.
“Always attacking. You need to practice your patience more.”
“Everyone says that.”
Borgov looked faintly amused. “I wonder why.”
His hands slid down her arms, and then he gathered both her wrists in one hand, his fingers easily encircling them. It was not a hard grip, but when Beth tried to slip out of it she found it was still too firm for her to break free.
“What are you doing?”
“You can consider it a reward for a game of chess well played. And a lesson.”
He caressed her cheek, his hand slipped into her hair, and gently tugged her head back so she had to look up at him.
“Are you afraid of me, Miss Harmon?”
Beth smiled. She had been very scared of him once, but not now, even if he held her captive both with his hands ad his eyes. “No.”
Borgov let go of her hair, but Beth couldn’t stop looking into his eyes. He removed his tie and tied her hands together with it.
“Still not scared?”
She shook her head. He felt very tall right now, towering over her, but she only felt curious about what was going to happen next.
It was his turn to smile. “Good. You will have no reason to fear me.”
He led her to the bed. It was an old-fashioned iron and brass bed, and he made her lay down on her back and tied her hands to one of the head bars. Beth expected him to kiss her now, but he stood back and removed his suit jacket instead, carefully hanging it on the back of a chair. Beth wiggled her shoulders and suppressed an urge to ask him to hurry. She was sure he would deliberately move slower if she did.
When he finally kissed her, it was wonderful. It was a slow kiss at first, but it quickly grew deeper and greedier. Beth answered with enthusiasm. She may not be able to move much, but she would not fake indifference. Borgov kissed her throat and collarbones, moving slowly down, as his hands explored her body outside her nightgown. Then the neckline was pulled down, exposing her breasts, and she sighed as Borgov kissed her breasts. Then his teeth grazed her already hard nipples, and she arched her back into the tough. Her nightgown was pulled up in a rustle of silk, and Borgov sat up so he could remove her panties. Then he continued to explore her body with his tongue and hands, moving down over her body, to the inside of her tights, and, finally, between her legs. Beth moaned; she had wanted him to touch her there since he kissed her, and to her surprise, she abruptly came.
Borgov stood up, and Beth stared at him, feeling frustrated. Things had suddenly moved a little too fast, and she wanted him inside her, now, but to her bafflement, he disappeared into the bathroom instead.
“Don’t move,” he said over his shoulder before the door closed.
But Beth tried to undo the knots as soon as she was alone. Perhaps she was too impatient, but she wanted to touch him too, and not be the only one who was touched. It was impossible to see what she was doing on her back, so Beth twisted around on her stomach, thinking it would make it easier. But she twisted her bonds too, and in doing so shortened them so much she couldn’t move her hands at all. And, she realized, when she tried to turn back, it also didn’t give her enough room to move around anymore. She was stuck, and the only thing she managed to do was to get her hair in her face.
Borgov returned from the bathroom, carrying a glass of water in his hand. He had removed his shirt, and Beth felt decidedly breathless when she saw him. She knew he kept himself in shape, tournament gossip had informed her of that, but she hadn’t known how good his shape really was. Harry had been lanky and Benny skinny, and she had accepted their bodies as good enough. Borgov’s body, on the other hand, was exciting. A well-fitted suit could give any man a splendid figure, but Borgov’s tailor had had a simple job fitting him. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and chest, a flat stomach, as impressive half-naked as he was dressed.
He put it down on the glass on the bedside table and looked down on her with a frown. “I told you not to move.”
Beth glared at him. “Anyway, you can untie me now.”
He suddenly looked concerned, running his fingers over her hands and bonds.
“Are you in pain?”
“No, not at all. I just-”
“Then you can wait,”
“Vasily, please!” It was the first time she said his name aloud, and it almost felt more intimate than to see him bare-chested.
“I said no. You shouldn’t have been disobedient.” He sat down beside her and gently brushed her hair away. “Now, get up on your knees”
Beth considered protesting, but she also wanted to know what he was going to do next, and she wanted him to touch her again, so she said nothing and obeyed. The reward was immediate. His hand caressed her stomach and then dipped down between her legs. Beth pressed herself against him, but then his other hand came down in a hard slap on her buttocks, and she squealed in surprise. Before she could voice an objection Borgov spanked her again, but at the same time the hand between her legs didn’t stop its caresses, and any protest died on her lips. Every strike hurt; a quick-burning pain but after came a rush of heat which seemed to merge with the heat between her legs, and the sensation was intensely pleasurable in a way she had never experienced before. Beth panted and her body seemed to try to wriggle away at the same time it wanted to be closer to Borgov’s touch, and the feeling grew stronger and stronger. Suddenly she came again, even stronger than before, and Beth’s knees gave way under her, and she collapsed on the bed, breathing hard.
She could feel Borgov move, rising from the bed, but she lacked the energy to look at what he was doing, though she could hear him removing the last of his clothes. Then she could feel his hands on her hips, as he pulled her up on her knees again, nudging her legs apart. Beth almost screamed when he entered her. It didn’t hurt, though he felt larger than the other men she had been with, but her orgasms had left her hypersensitive, and she could feel every inch of him. Had he not moved so slowly, with an agonizingly wonderful slowness, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to take it. When he was fully inside her, he paused for a moment, allowing Beth to get used to the sensation. Then he moved, still quite slow, but in a forceful, deliberate way which sent jolts of pleasure through her entire body. Belt felt she could feel everything more; the way the silk of the tie held her firmly in place, soft but unyielding. The softness of her nightgown silkily puddled around her shoulders, and the fine cotton sheets felt rough as sackcloths against her hard nipples, and the friction made them even harder. And, most of all, Borgov’s powerful hands on her hips, holding her securely in place, and how he thrust into her, deeper and faster now. To Beth’s surprise, she could feel another orgasm building inside her. She almost didn’t want it to happen. It felt like it would be too much, too overwhelming, but then Borgov moved faster, taking her harder and harder and she could not hold back.
Wave after wave crashed through her, and she screamed into her pillow, and she felt Borgov coming too, as they collapsed together onto the bed. He kissed her neck, murmuring something in Russian she didn’t understand. For a moment it felt like he was crushing her, but then he propped himself up on his elbows, and Beth turned her head so she could give him a sideways smile. Her hair is in her eyes again, but it didn’t matter. When their breaths had returned to them, Borgov moved to lie beside her instead and untied her. Beth rolled around, into his arms, and he took one of her hands and rubbed her wrist.
“I feel fine,” Beth said.
“Good. Then drink your water.”
“What?”
“Drink up your water. You need it.”
Beth sat up in bed and dutifully drank. She was thirsty; she hadn’t realized how much until she took the first sip, and she drained the glass. Then she snuggled back into Borgov’s arms. She felt very satisfied and drowsy.
“Can we do it again?”
A laugh rumbled in his chess. “Not tonight. You forget I’m not a young man. And I should have thought this was enough even for your energy.”
Beth blushed. “No, I meant another night.”
He was silent for a while, holding her a little closer. “Yes, another night. If it’s possible.”
Then no one said anything for some time. Beth luxuriated in the feeling of the embrace, warm and content. It felt like she would slip into sleep any moment, but she didn’t want to sleep just yet, so she spoke again.
“I have a house. It’s not big, but it’s mine. It has a garden too, and it’s a nice place to play chess in. Or just talk.”
Borgov sighed. “You realize I will never be the one who sits there with you? We can never have more than we have now. We have eyes on us, on me more than you, and this would not go down well if my handlers find out.”
Beth knew. She had tried to suppress that little daydream ever since it first materialized in her head, but it didn’t want to vanish. It wasn’t much, not much at all. She and Borgov and chess in her house- it was surely a very modest dream. But impossible, all the same. She pressed herself closer and sighed too.
“I know.”
“I should go.”
“Stay just a little longer. Please stay until I have fallen asleep.
He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms tighter around her. “That I can do. Sleep well.”
And after a pause, in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear. “Sleep well, my love.”
Beth still fought her drowsiness. When she woke up again he would be gone, and she would have no idea of when they could meet again. But she soon slept deeply and didn’t even stir when Borgov quietly slipped out of the bed and out of her room, only pausing briefly to give her her sleeping form a last glance before he left.
Title: Taking the White Queen (A Lesson in Patience)
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3612
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: Light bondage, spanking, M/f, vaginal sex, light bdsm
Summary: A reward for a game well played. And a lesson.
I have a basic knowledge of chess, but I know very little of the ins and outs of chess tournaments in the ’60s. I hope I’m forgiven for inventing a tournament in Finland.
The fic on AO3
Moscow, By Night
Beth returned to the hotel after she had played with the old men in the park, beating them all to their utter delight. She was met with both American and Russian officials, all very upset with her. But Beth barely listened to their scolding, her mind still too filled with yesterday’s victory, and the wonderful walk through Moscow. And in the end, the only thing which happened was a new flight scheduled for the next day, and a promise extracted from her to stay in the car this time. Then she was given back the room she had vacated in the morning, and after dinner she excused herself, claiming fatigue and the need to sleep before tomorrow’s early flight.
But Beth wasn’t the slightest bit tired. It felt like she never would be again, and she restlessly paced around her room. Despite her success, something was lacking, something she couldn’t define. So much had been won; she had finally beaten Vasily Borgov, and she was one step closer to become World Champion. And she would get there, she was sure. But now, right now, she had no reason to not relax and enjoy what she had accomplished. The problem was that thinking of it also meant thinking of Borgov. Somehow she couldn’t stop thinking of his smile when she had beaten him, and his unexpected embrace. It had stirred something in her, and it was that something which made Beth circle her room instead of going to bed.
To distract herself, Beth unpacked her chess set and tried to do a chess problem. But she cared little for them under any circumstances, and she quickly abandoned it again. When there was a quiet knock on her door, Beth knew she had half expected it all evening and was not surprised when she opened her door and Borgov slipped inside. He looked around the room before he looked at her, and though he seemed as calm and composure as always, Beth could still feel how the surrounding atmosphere suddenly seemed charged with new nervous energy.
“I heard you were still here, and I wanted to congratulate you again.”
“Thank you.”
“I have never played chess with anyone like you before.”
“Because I’m a girl?”
“No. You are exceptional, and your sex has nothing to do with it.”
He glanced at the chessboard. “Do you find chess problems diverting?”
“Not really. But I enjoy speed chess. Do you?”
He shook his head. “I have never played it. It seems the very opposite of what chess is about.”
Beth smiled. “Do you want to try?”
He considered her question for a moment before he nodded, and Beth couldn’t deny the thrill she felt of playing with him again. And she beat him. Not as quickly as Benny had beaten her, and vice versa, but she beat him again.
“It’s quite different from ordinary chess; I was soundly beaten when I first tried it.”
He gave her a small half-smile. “You don’t need to soften the blow. And now I ought to go.”
“Why not another game right now?”
“And another, and then another? Nevermind there will be no sleep, no rest? Because nothing is more important than chess?”
“Of course, nothing is more important. And I believe you feel the same way.”
“I do. We wouldn’t be here, you and I, if it wasn’t so. And in the end, chess is the only thing that will prevail. The love before any other loves. And believe me, even if you say nothing, those you love will know they can never be first, and in the end, they will resent you for it.”
Beth looked at him and wondered why he was confiding in her. They had only said a handful of words to each other before. But it felt like she had known him for years, and perhaps he felt the same.
“But you have your family.”
“My family, yes. My son finds chess boring; his passion is airplanes. And my wife-”
There was a brief pause. Borgov picked up a black pawn and studied it for a second before he put it down again beside the board.
“My wife is divorcing me. She says she will be thrilled if she never sees a chess game again for the rest of her life.”
“But what if you think you have found someone who loves chess a much as you do?”
“Like who? Your Mr. Townes, or perhaps Benny Watts?”
Beth ignored the not wholly pleasant notion he knew so much about her affairs. “No, not them.”
“Even so; the people in your life will always come and go, but chess is constant. And no, I will not play with you more tonight.”
Beth opened the door for him but then nodded at the chessboard. “You should have taken the queen again.”
Borgov stopped.
“Perhaps I should have.” And suddenly he reached out an arm and pushed the door closed, and Beth found herself standing with her back against it, his hands resting on each side of her shoulders. “Perhaps it’s not too late.”
From one breath to another, the tension around them grew even stronger. They stood so close together Beth could see the day-old stubble on Borgov’s cheeks and feel the warmth of his body like a herald to embrace. She wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it more than she could ever remember wanting a kiss before, and her lips felt swollen with longing.
“Will you stay then?”
“I would like to. But not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Rush, rush, rush, Miss Harmon. Speed chess. Speed sex too? You are a very impatient young woman.”
He kissed her cheek, his lips warm and firm again her skin, and then he was gone. Beth stared at the closed door in surprised disappointment, then she shrugged and went to bed. But there was no sleep that night.
Helsinki, By Day
The next time Beth met Borgov was at a chess tournament in Helsinki, five months later. It was not a big tournament, but Beth went because she was invited, because the prize money was good and, most of all, hoping Finland’s proximity to Soviet would mean Borgov would come.
She found she liked Helsinki for its own sake. It seemed like you could see the Baltic sea from everywhere, and she was especially pleased that her hotel room overlooked the harbor. The spring was colder than she was used to, but the evenings had a luminous light that lingered and made the days longer. When the games were over for the day she strolled the city, inhaled the fresh and briny air, and felt pleased with herself when she could spot architectural remnants from Finland’s time as a Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire. One day she even took a ferry to a fortress on an island, built by the Swedes in the 18th century when Finland had been a province of that country. She drank tea at Kappeli, a pavilion mostly made by glass, like a dream of a Russian palace, and missed Alma a lot. Her mother would have loved to walk the streets with her, and sampling the restaurants and cafes. But in the end, Helsinki was just a backdrop to what mattered; chess.
Beth saw Borgov the first evening at dinner. He was eating at the other end of the hotel’s dining room, surrounded, as usual, by a bevy of other players, assistants, and KGB agents. But not, Beth noticed, accompanied by his wife anymore. He had a new interpreter, a dour-looking man who blended well into the background. Not that she noticed anyone much apart from Borgov. Though she didn’t want to be caught staring at him, she stole enough glances to see he hadn’t changed since she saw him last. He finished eating before her and passing her on the way out he looked at her. Their eyes met, but when she smiled at him, he only inclined his head slightly. It didn’t matter. Beth’s heart soared in a mingling of joy and nervousness. She had beaten him in Moscow, but he had won twice before; she was not sure she could repeat her victory again.
Before Beth could meet Borgov again; and she never considered the possibility she would not, she had many other games to win. So she firmly put Borgov out of her mind; it wouldn’t do to think the other chess players would be easy to conquer. The last thing she wanted was to be so cocky she became sloppy and lost by sheer carelessness. Beth played her best every single game, carefully and successfully winning again and again. And then, finally, the day she was to meet Borgov again came.
Ever since Beth had started to win money, she had spent a lot of those on her wardrobe, and she had spent considerable time choosing her clothes for this tournament. For Borgov she had chosen a simple black dress in tussah silk. Its softly rough texture and dull shine seemed to underline how shiny her red hair was, and though she wore it without jewelry, its neckline was decorated with a speckle of spangles, like a glittering necklace. Beth stared at her mirror image for a long time, smoothing the fabric over her hips. This time she was not terrified over meeting Borgov, but she was still nervous. She might have won once, she didn’t feel the speed chess really counted, but he had bested her twice. And today she was playing black.
The room was packed with spectators, but Beth only saw the man in front of her. Borgov was as immaculate as ever in a dark suit, with a red and gold tie for a single splash of color. He was standing by the table, and when she took his outstretched hand, he bowed a little over it. They sat down, Borgov opened the game, and Beth stopped being nervous. Regardless of the outcome, this was their game. They had no past now, and the future only what moves they could envision. Nothing else mattered. Every move she made was just for him, and his only for her. It was a conversation without words, only the chess pieces threading an intricate dance on the board.
After, Beth would think she had played one of the best games of her life, but it didn’t help. This time Borgov slowly but relentlessly pushed her into a corner and she realized she had no other option than to resign. Disappointment churned inside her, but she remembered how graciously Borgov had accepted his loss, and she managed to smile, and even sound sincere in her congratulations.
When they shook hands, she leaned into him a little. “Next time I will play better.”
He smiled a little, a small smile just for her. “I know you will.”
Helsinki, By Night
Back in her room, Beth went over their game repeatedly on her own board. She had played well, no doubt about it, it was just that Borgov had played better. He had, she was sure, studied her as intensely as she had him, and had needed to win as much as well. With a small sigh, Beth pushed the chessboard away. Borgov had had the advantage of playing white, and he also had his experience, both of which Beth had no control over, The only thing she could do was to be better the next time.
Running her hand through her hair, she stood up and stretched. Now, when the tournament was over, she could think of other things. Other things which were still about Borgov, and that night in Moscow. Had he not all but said he would come back again or had she read too much into his words?
It wasn’t just her dresses Beth had spent careful consideration over. She had bought a nightgown for her last night in Helsinki, and after a bath, she pulled it on. It was very short, saved by indecency by a pair of matching panties, but very full. Yards of gossamer-thin white silk swirled around her body when she moved. It was cut low too, revealing the top of her breasts, and Beth felt it was very much something you wore when you had someone who could admire you wearing it. But would he come? For a moment she considered just going to bed, but then there was that quiet knock on her door. With her stomach suddenly filled with butterflies, Beth hurried to open it.
Borgov was still dressed in his dark suit, but he had changed his shirt, and he was newly shaved, a faint scent of cologne, wafted against Beth when he passed her into the room. As soon as the door closed, she put her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him, but he put his hands on her shoulders and made her take a step back.
“Always attacking. You need to practice your patience more.”
“Everyone says that.”
Borgov looked faintly amused. “I wonder why.”
His hands slid down her arms, and then he gathered both her wrists in one hand, his fingers easily encircling them. It was not a hard grip, but when Beth tried to slip out of it she found it was still too firm for her to break free.
“What are you doing?”
“You can consider it a reward for a game of chess well played. And a lesson.”
He caressed her cheek, his hand slipped into her hair, and gently tugged her head back so she had to look up at him.
“Are you afraid of me, Miss Harmon?”
Beth smiled. She had been very scared of him once, but not now, even if he held her captive both with his hands ad his eyes. “No.”
Borgov let go of her hair, but Beth couldn’t stop looking into his eyes. He removed his tie and tied her hands together with it.
“Still not scared?”
She shook her head. He felt very tall right now, towering over her, but she only felt curious about what was going to happen next.
It was his turn to smile. “Good. You will have no reason to fear me.”
He led her to the bed. It was an old-fashioned iron and brass bed, and he made her lay down on her back and tied her hands to one of the head bars. Beth expected him to kiss her now, but he stood back and removed his suit jacket instead, carefully hanging it on the back of a chair. Beth wiggled her shoulders and suppressed an urge to ask him to hurry. She was sure he would deliberately move slower if she did.
When he finally kissed her, it was wonderful. It was a slow kiss at first, but it quickly grew deeper and greedier. Beth answered with enthusiasm. She may not be able to move much, but she would not fake indifference. Borgov kissed her throat and collarbones, moving slowly down, as his hands explored her body outside her nightgown. Then the neckline was pulled down, exposing her breasts, and she sighed as Borgov kissed her breasts. Then his teeth grazed her already hard nipples, and she arched her back into the tough. Her nightgown was pulled up in a rustle of silk, and Borgov sat up so he could remove her panties. Then he continued to explore her body with his tongue and hands, moving down over her body, to the inside of her tights, and, finally, between her legs. Beth moaned; she had wanted him to touch her there since he kissed her, and to her surprise, she abruptly came.
Borgov stood up, and Beth stared at him, feeling frustrated. Things had suddenly moved a little too fast, and she wanted him inside her, now, but to her bafflement, he disappeared into the bathroom instead.
“Don’t move,” he said over his shoulder before the door closed.
But Beth tried to undo the knots as soon as she was alone. Perhaps she was too impatient, but she wanted to touch him too, and not be the only one who was touched. It was impossible to see what she was doing on her back, so Beth twisted around on her stomach, thinking it would make it easier. But she twisted her bonds too, and in doing so shortened them so much she couldn’t move her hands at all. And, she realized, when she tried to turn back, it also didn’t give her enough room to move around anymore. She was stuck, and the only thing she managed to do was to get her hair in her face.
Borgov returned from the bathroom, carrying a glass of water in his hand. He had removed his shirt, and Beth felt decidedly breathless when she saw him. She knew he kept himself in shape, tournament gossip had informed her of that, but she hadn’t known how good his shape really was. Harry had been lanky and Benny skinny, and she had accepted their bodies as good enough. Borgov’s body, on the other hand, was exciting. A well-fitted suit could give any man a splendid figure, but Borgov’s tailor had had a simple job fitting him. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and chest, a flat stomach, as impressive half-naked as he was dressed.
He put it down on the glass on the bedside table and looked down on her with a frown. “I told you not to move.”
Beth glared at him. “Anyway, you can untie me now.”
He suddenly looked concerned, running his fingers over her hands and bonds.
“Are you in pain?”
“No, not at all. I just-”
“Then you can wait,”
“Vasily, please!” It was the first time she said his name aloud, and it almost felt more intimate than to see him bare-chested.
“I said no. You shouldn’t have been disobedient.” He sat down beside her and gently brushed her hair away. “Now, get up on your knees”
Beth considered protesting, but she also wanted to know what he was going to do next, and she wanted him to touch her again, so she said nothing and obeyed. The reward was immediate. His hand caressed her stomach and then dipped down between her legs. Beth pressed herself against him, but then his other hand came down in a hard slap on her buttocks, and she squealed in surprise. Before she could voice an objection Borgov spanked her again, but at the same time the hand between her legs didn’t stop its caresses, and any protest died on her lips. Every strike hurt; a quick-burning pain but after came a rush of heat which seemed to merge with the heat between her legs, and the sensation was intensely pleasurable in a way she had never experienced before. Beth panted and her body seemed to try to wriggle away at the same time it wanted to be closer to Borgov’s touch, and the feeling grew stronger and stronger. Suddenly she came again, even stronger than before, and Beth’s knees gave way under her, and she collapsed on the bed, breathing hard.
She could feel Borgov move, rising from the bed, but she lacked the energy to look at what he was doing, though she could hear him removing the last of his clothes. Then she could feel his hands on her hips, as he pulled her up on her knees again, nudging her legs apart. Beth almost screamed when he entered her. It didn’t hurt, though he felt larger than the other men she had been with, but her orgasms had left her hypersensitive, and she could feel every inch of him. Had he not moved so slowly, with an agonizingly wonderful slowness, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to take it. When he was fully inside her, he paused for a moment, allowing Beth to get used to the sensation. Then he moved, still quite slow, but in a forceful, deliberate way which sent jolts of pleasure through her entire body. Belt felt she could feel everything more; the way the silk of the tie held her firmly in place, soft but unyielding. The softness of her nightgown silkily puddled around her shoulders, and the fine cotton sheets felt rough as sackcloths against her hard nipples, and the friction made them even harder. And, most of all, Borgov’s powerful hands on her hips, holding her securely in place, and how he thrust into her, deeper and faster now. To Beth’s surprise, she could feel another orgasm building inside her. She almost didn’t want it to happen. It felt like it would be too much, too overwhelming, but then Borgov moved faster, taking her harder and harder and she could not hold back.
Wave after wave crashed through her, and she screamed into her pillow, and she felt Borgov coming too, as they collapsed together onto the bed. He kissed her neck, murmuring something in Russian she didn’t understand. For a moment it felt like he was crushing her, but then he propped himself up on his elbows, and Beth turned her head so she could give him a sideways smile. Her hair is in her eyes again, but it didn’t matter. When their breaths had returned to them, Borgov moved to lie beside her instead and untied her. Beth rolled around, into his arms, and he took one of her hands and rubbed her wrist.
“I feel fine,” Beth said.
“Good. Then drink your water.”
“What?”
“Drink up your water. You need it.”
Beth sat up in bed and dutifully drank. She was thirsty; she hadn’t realized how much until she took the first sip, and she drained the glass. Then she snuggled back into Borgov’s arms. She felt very satisfied and drowsy.
“Can we do it again?”
A laugh rumbled in his chess. “Not tonight. You forget I’m not a young man. And I should have thought this was enough even for your energy.”
Beth blushed. “No, I meant another night.”
He was silent for a while, holding her a little closer. “Yes, another night. If it’s possible.”
Then no one said anything for some time. Beth luxuriated in the feeling of the embrace, warm and content. It felt like she would slip into sleep any moment, but she didn’t want to sleep just yet, so she spoke again.
“I have a house. It’s not big, but it’s mine. It has a garden too, and it’s a nice place to play chess in. Or just talk.”
Borgov sighed. “You realize I will never be the one who sits there with you? We can never have more than we have now. We have eyes on us, on me more than you, and this would not go down well if my handlers find out.”
Beth knew. She had tried to suppress that little daydream ever since it first materialized in her head, but it didn’t want to vanish. It wasn’t much, not much at all. She and Borgov and chess in her house- it was surely a very modest dream. But impossible, all the same. She pressed herself closer and sighed too.
“I know.”
“I should go.”
“Stay just a little longer. Please stay until I have fallen asleep.
He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms tighter around her. “That I can do. Sleep well.”
And after a pause, in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear. “Sleep well, my love.”
Beth still fought her drowsiness. When she woke up again he would be gone, and she would have no idea of when they could meet again. But she soon slept deeply and didn’t even stir when Borgov quietly slipped out of the bed and out of her room, only pausing briefly to give her her sleeping form a last glance before he left.
