The hotel in the Kuningan area had a lobby that was too big.
A strategic place in the central area of South Jakarta.
Where most business people, no matter who they were, would definitely choose its very strategic location.
It was a place where time seemed to slow down to hide transactions that shouldn’t be happening.
Sarah sat in a corner chair facing the entrance, wearing a cream-colored blazer.
Inside her leather bag was a folder containing sensitive data about the fish quarantine schedule at Tanjung Priok Port.
Bistok arrived exactly at two in the afternoon.
Dark cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He walked casually, placing his phone on the table with the screen facing down.
“Purnomo?” asked Bistok.
“He agrees with your concept,” Sarah answered flatly.
“The capital will be sent through a shell company account.
No name anywhere.”
…
They spent the next twenty minutes discussing technical details.
About moving the shipment from the usual port route to the airport.
Starting from the transit truck departure time.
To the handover point of the cargo.
How to avoid heat sensors at the airport.
Bistok didn’t miss giving keywords and explanations.
Sarah listened seriously.
No small talk.
After all the details were agreed upon, Sarah closed her folder with a firm click.
She stood up and looked at Bistok.
“Which floor is your room on?”
Bistok raised an eyebrow.
“Room?
We’re not finished yet…”
“Now we are.”
Sarah stood up.
Adjusted her blazer for a moment.
But her steps didn’t go toward the door.
Instead, she walked straight toward the elevator.
Bistok, without looking forced, followed her.
Inside the elevator, Sarah stood in front without turning around.
But her hand was behind her, reaching for Bistok’s hand.
Gripping it slowly, then gradually tighter.
The elevator door opened on the 12th floor.
A long corridor with thick carpet.
Bistok walked behind Sarah.
Still following from behind.
He looked at the shoulder of the woman he had known for so long.
Clean and smooth, still the same as he remembered, but looking a little tense.
Restlessness that was very noticeable from holding something back.
Room 1208.
The door opened.
Thick curtains were still drawn.
Only the bedside lamp was on, giving a dim light.
Bistok had just closed the door when Sarah had already turned around.
She pushed Bistok against the wall.
Slammed him.
Hard.
“Hurry up and open it,” said Sarah.
“There was a little traffic jam earlier…”
“Don’t talk too much.”
Sarah grabbed Bistok’s shirt collar.
Then pulled him toward the bed.
Bistok didn’t resist.
He deliberately let Sarah push him until his back touched the sheets.
Lifting his head slightly, Bistok saw hurried movements, half-emotional, in front of him.
Sarah took off her blazer.
The white shirt underneath.
Her bra, which was still on, was thrown off without any shame anymore.
Her chest was rising and falling.
Her breath sounded a little rushed.
“I need this, Bistok.
Don’t ask too many questions.”
Bistok laughed softly.
His hands reached for Sarah’s waist.
Helping her take off her pants.
“You always need this when there’s a problem, when nothing is certain yet.”
“Because only you can.”
Sarah climbed onto Bistok’s thighs.
Sat on his lap.
Her hands were on Bistok’s shoulders, pressing slightly.
Giving direction with her sharp gaze.
Then, slowly,y Sarah started moving her hips.
Getting faster, even though it felt a little rough.
Bistok let Sarah lead.
As usual, even in the past.
He knew his role here: to match, not to dominate.
Sarah closed her eyes.
Her lips clearly showed that Sarah was starting to enjoy her own game.
Her head slowly bowed occasionally.
Her short hair covered part of her face.
Bistok then reached for her waist.
Helping to align Sarah’s hip rhythm.
“You’re a little tense, Sarah,” said Bistok.
“So are you.”
Sarah stopped her hip movement for a moment, feeling the pause to find a new spot.
Then, using both hands, she pressed on Bistok’s groin.
Giving instructions for an increasingly faster tempo.
Until…
Sarah groaned a little, squirming.
Her hand tried to hold back Bistok’s increasingly fast hip movements.
Arrghh…
Wait Bistok…
Argggh!
Sarah reached her peak first.
Her body tensed.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Her hands gripped Bistok’s shoulders.
She stopped moving.
Her breath was rushed.
But?
Bistok hadn’t.
He was still hard inside Sarah’s body.
Sarah smiled slightly.
Slowly got up and shifted, turning her body around.
Now lying on her back next to Bistok’s body.
“Your turn.”
Bistok slowly climbed on top of her.
Slowly entered again and pumped again at the same speed as before.
Sarah moaned softly.
This time, Bistok was leading.
Sarah let him thrust with a combination of slow and then quickening.
Sarah’s hand grabbed Bistok’s hair, pulling.
“Faster, Bistok.”
Bistok sped up.
Sarah bit her lip.
One hand gripped the sheets.
The other on Bistok’s back, her nails digging into his skin.
Sarah started raising her stomach, her body starting to squirm again.
Bistok was also speeding up.
Signaling to Sarah that he was going to pull out.
Sarah nodded.
Her eyes directed Bistok toward her stomach.
Bistok pulled out.
Let it all go on Sarah’s stomach.
Then fell to the side, staring at the ceiling.
They lay side by side.
Sweat was drying on their skin.
Bistok reached for a cigarette from the side table.
“We won’t be able to do this again anytime soon,” said Sarah.
“Sure.
Whatever you say.”
“You know me.”
Bistok lit the cigarette.
Smoke rose to the ceiling.
“Many things you find strange or wrong, Sarah.
You’re only realizing that now?”
Sarah didn’t answer.
She got up.
Walked to the bathroom.
Turned on the faucet.
Let the hot water steam up.
In the mirror that had become foggy from the steam, she could still see the bite mark on her neck.
She smiled slightly with relief.
Two hours later, she was dressed neatly.
The cream blazer was back on.
The folder in her hand was like before.
Nothing remained of the earlier chaos.
“Tomorrow I’ll wait for news from you,” Sarah said in front of the elevator.
“Are you going back to the apartment?”
“Maybe.
Or to headquarters.”
Bistok nodded.
The elevator door opened.
An empty elevator car, and Sarah stepped in.
The elevator door closed again.
But Bistok was still standing in the corridor with a lit cigarette still between his fingers, staring at the closed elevator door.
…
At two in the morning.
Soekarno-Hatta Airport was never truly quiet, but in the cargo area, the frequency of activity was different.
Bistok stood in the corner of the warehouse, staring at his phone screen showing the international cargo tracking status.
“The goods are in the hold,” Kodir’s voice sounded on the other end of the phone.
Kodir, who was on the ground, sounded calm.
“All according to procedure, boss.
The quarantine documents that Sarah handled are already in the central system at Priok.
Customs there has already given the green light.
No physical inspection.”
Bistok nodded, even though no one could see him.
He used the fictitious shipping company that they had just created two weeks ago.
Like an invisible business entity that only existed on paper in the manifest.
“Make sure the courier in Singapore is on standby at Changi.
As soon as it lands, take it immediately,” Bistok instructed.
Two hours later, a notification came to his phone.
The agreed amount of money had been transferred to the holding account.
The Super Red Arowana had reached the collector’s hands.
Bistok let out a long breath.
Those few living assets had been sold, which would certainly keep fueling other assets in the future.
For him, this was a perfect technical success.