Black And White Ops

He felt Monique’s ebony hand in his white one as they continued to roam through the exhibit. They walked up to one of the glass cases and peered in at the statue of Isis on the inside. Monique leaned on him again. She didn’t want to be too clingy, but he’d almost brought her to org*sm in the car. She wanted more and didn’t want to leave his side.

Before long they found themselves in a hall filled with paintings from renaissance Italy. Each one had a plate describing it in several languages. Most were of religious figures, but some were of street scenes and contemporary life. The tsars had been collectors of art and had a fine eye for what was important. The hermitage complex contained millions of art pieces and even the curators didn’t know how many were held inside.

They stopped at one particular painting. It showed an Arabian sitting with a very dark woman sleeping under a tree in Moorish dress. Above her, his horse tethered to the tree was a man in armor with a surprised look on his face. A close examination of the painting showed the Moorish African women to have one eye slightly open and fully aware the knight, his helmet open showing the look of surprise on his face as he approached her.

Rick felt Monique’s hand on his shoulder as he looked at the painting. “You want to know what happened after he found her?” she asked him. “I do. She took all of his armor off. Then she took off what was under the armor. She led him next to the palm trees around the oasis and took off the robes she had on. Then they were down in the sand all night long.”

Rick glanced around; making sure no one could hear what she had whispered to him. “There is a room here no one knows about,” he told her. “Would you like to see it?”

“How do you know about it?” she very slyly asked him.

“It helps to give small gifts to the staff at the museum,” he told her. “You can discover many things the tourists never get to see. The tsars liked to come here to and chill when the affairs of state became too taxing. I’ll show you Tsar Paul’s private getaway.” He glanced around to make sure none of the security cameras were pointed in his direction and took Monique’s hand.

They walked behind a roped-off painting and, making certain no one would ever see them, Rick depressed a panel next to a large oil painting. A door opened and he took Monique through it to the other side. There was a click as it shut behind them.

The light was very faint where they stood. But the walls and ceiling of the small room glistened with golden reflections and cast light to the large bed which dominated the room. A skylight allowed some sun to come inside which was the source of the illumination. And then she realized what made the room so unique: it was lined with tile made out of amber.

“The original amber room,” Rick said in her ear as he tugged on the zipper of her dress, “was located in the Katherine Palace, not far from here. It was built in the eighteenth century using amber, gold leaf and mirrors. It was originally built for the Prussian King Frederick who gave it to Tsar Peter the Great as a peace offering. Tsar Paul liked it so much that he had this small version built for him alone a hundred years later.” Monique kicked off her shoes and let the dress she was wearing fall to her ankles.

Then she felt him push her up into the center of the bed.