Five miles down the road a pair of elderly yet functional BTR fighting vehicles of the militia were sat blocking the road in such a manner as to force vehicles to slow to a crawl in order to negotiate the chicane they had formed. Tonight however, all vehicles would be stopped and searched for draft dodgers and curfew breakers before they could proceed.
The young militiaman stood out front with the task of flagging the cars down, saw the light from the cars main beams before he heard its engine. His colleagues further ahead even than he was, faded into the trees, ready to provide cover as he turned on the red lamp he carried and began to swing it side to side in a clear signal for the driver of the oncoming vehicle to stop.
He did not like being so exposed, stood out in the centre of the road and so far from the protection afforded by the BTRs armoured sides, but the cars headlights dipped and the engines tone altered as its driver slowed and eventually brought it to a halt before him.
The driver reached up to switch on the internal light allowing him to relax when he saw the occupants of the two-seater were not only female, but what females!
The passenger had deep blue eyes framed by eyelashes that matched the colour of her blonde hair; she was beautiful but rather haughty, not deigning to look his way at that time. The driver on the other hand was just as gorgeous but she was looking directly at him in a very bold fashion, a smile playing on her lips. The side window had been wound down but he was just staring instead of getting on with the business of the night, and the auburn haired driver leant out the window and smiled widely.
“Hello soldier, see anything you like?”
With something of a start he realised he was still stood by the front of the car and stepped quickly forward, bending at the waist to look in. The driver and passenger both wore expensive Sable, and the militiaman took a long look at what he believed must be the most expensive hookers he had ever seen, looking chic and elegant in their expensive, yet revealing outfits.
“Ladies… good evening, I must ask you for your papers please.”
When they were passed across he tried to scrutinise the documents and still ogle the long legs of both driver and passenger, but from behind him he could hear someone pacing about impatiently, and knew his officer was in an irritable mood so he concentrated on the curfew pass.
“And how is the good General tonight Madame?”
“Snoring away softly with a smile on his face, when I last looked.”
“The, er, General is not a young man… … … yet he managed you both?”
The driver wet her lips.
“The General likes to watch… if you know how I mean soldier?” She reached across to the passenger side as she spoke, one hand stroked her friends’ knee, and the legs parted a few inches, allowing the hand to caress along the blondes thigh and disappear from view beneath the hem of her filmy, silk mini skirt. The blonde turned to look him directly in the eyes, her expression still one of quiet arrogance, but she deliberately allowed him to see her part her thighs wider still.
He gulped, and a collage of erotic images filled the young man’s head, but then the moment was spoilt by an angry voice from behind him.
“Stop gawping at what you can’t afford, get them out of the car and searched… I’m freezing my balls off here!”
Word that there were two attractive females in the car had spread to all in the patrol, and driver’s hatches popped open to allow a better view. The blonde had exited the car into the chill night, but the long fur coat remained open as she lounged against the side of the red sports car with her hands in the pockets, whilst the militiaman searched inside. Her companion who was leant with her elbows on the car roof, smiled and waved to their audience.
On the other side of the roadblock, another car that had been stopped was cleared on through, and it wound itself between the APCs before accelerating past the Mercedes. Svetlana bit back a giggle as the breezed caused by its passage lifted the other young woman’s skirt, but rather than prudishly try to slap the wispy material down, the American allowed the militiamen to cop an eyeful of flat belly and minute black G-string, whilst still appearing aloof. An appreciative cheer sounded from somewhere in the darkness, much to the annoyance of the officer who plainly thought that hidden sentries should be both silent as well as invisible.
As it was patently obvious that neither woman was hiding a weapon under their inner clothing, only the coat pockets received the young man’s attentions once he had finished searching the car.
At last the papers were returned and the red Mercedes negotiated the chicane with the auburn haired driver waving to the grinning men, before she gunned the engine and left them with just a pleasant memory and a story to be told back in barracks.
Svetlana was as effervescent as ever drove on towards Moscow, talking animatedly without realising the American was withdrawn. The incident at the roadblock and the simulated groping by the Russian girl had suddenly brought back to her mind something that had happened before they had come to Russia. She found herself staring at Svetlana’s legs and the generous expanse of exposed thigh, and blushed deeply before looking out of the side window, and she stayed like that for most of the return journey.
It was almost 2am by the time they arrived back at the farmhouse in the old van, having returned the sports car to its bay in the storage site. They said farewell to their contact and he drove away, leaving them to head toward the building where a single light still burned.
Patricia had been dozing in a chair until the sound of the vans engine awoke her, and she was pouring vodka into three glasses when they came in. Hugs were exchanged and then Patricia was filled in on the night’s events. It was seven hours before the next satellite pass so it was time to get some sleep, and Patricia had to leave for another maintenance run on the Nighthawk.
Svetlana yawned and stood, removing the long sable and heading for the stairs but an oath from Caroline stopped her in mid stride.
“Shit… I don’t believe you could have done that ‘lana!”
Patricia was as taken aback as the Russian girl, but Caroline pointed at the flesh revealing sides of Svetlana’s outfit. “You fucked him didn’t you?”
Caroline marched past Svetlana, her frame rigid with anger.
Pat realised that the Russian was no longer wearing the G-string and raised an eyebrow questioningly, not just because the girl was pantiless, but at her colleagues reaction, however Svetlana just shrugged and added an “Ooop’s.” before heading off to her own room. She owed no explanation to either American as to what had become of the item and was too tired now to care anyway.
The moon was sending its silver light to illuminate the countryside, and Svetlana kept the light off on reaching her room, allowing the moonbeams to show her the way to the bed, where she stripped off quickly and was asleep soon after climbing between the sheets.
The creak of a hinge awoke Svetlana two hours later, and she opened her eyes to see the American pilot stood in the doorway, looking somehow fragile in a wool shirt a couple of sizes too large for her. Moonlight still shone through the open curtains and long shadows fled away from the furniture’s dark sides towards the door.
She propped herself up on an elbow before asking what was wrong.
There was a tinge of the indignant in Carolinas answer.
“I wanted to say sorry for snapping… but I do think Con deserves a little more loyalty from you.”
Svetlana was quiet for a moment before speaking.
“So you don’t think that my going in wearing panties and coming out without them, could have been due to a combination of forgetfulness… and having had to strip, in order to prove I wasn’t wired for sound then?”