Vladimir is her cash machine, and she's just another girl for fun. But who cares? Now she, all refined, sits next to him and milks him.

They seek lull behind the sleek, dark windows of his shiny black Mercedes S-Class. The car glides along the Moscow Automobile Ring Road; its engine purrs softly, while the leather passenger seats offer comfortable hugs.

The tinted windows isolate them from the outside world, creating a proximity privacy. He steals a glance at her, captivated by how the highway lights put on a mesmerising show on her pretty face, bringing out her lips and velvety cheeks.

They're deadly quiet now. Just twenty minutes ago, one could've sworn the car was about to shake itself apart with all her screaming. She had noticed that, in her opinion, Volodya was eyeing up another lass's buns at the gas station. Yeah, mad she is. But mad or not, she's all his, through and through.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vladimir notices her reaching for her iPhone and then hears the pleasant bass in the car of her favourite song, Floki ⎯ Voruyu Alcohol. They both continue to play the silent game.

His hands clench the leather-covered steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he observes the satin beige fabric of her dress flowing along her flawless curves. She starts to sway gently, her dainty palms tapping on the glove compartment in time with the music. As the angelic face reaches his eyes, he finds it increasingly difficult to ignore her.

“You're a temptress?” Vladimir grins, giving her a tug by the waist with one hand, pulling her closer while keeping his focus on the road. He nuzzles into the silky strands of her hair, planting a kiss on the top of her head and taking a deep whiff of her perfume. She always smells fantastic⎯snazzy, just like him. “You're doin' this on purpose, a jealous kitten?”

The wheels hum pleasantly against the asphalt as they carry them towards the heart of Moscow. Vladimir gently pinches her thigh when he hears her beginning sweet bumbling.