Marina had a car waiting when they arrived at Saint Petersburg. They quickly jumped in and sped off. Nick was amazed at her stamina. She never seemed to tire. He, on the other hand, was still adjusting to the time difference. He found himself dozing off all the time. When he’d wake, she’d still be at the wheel, cruising down the road.
In contrast to Kiev, Marina took Nick and her little car to a more secluded part of Saint Petersburg. He had only read about the country, but he could tell that it was an area designated for people who the state considered special. She wheeled the vehicle through some iron gates and parked it in front of a beautiful dacha. It was a fairly new house. A workman was in the yard raking leaves and preparing the place for the summer. Marina hopped out and gave the old man a hug. He escorted her to the front door and led her in. She waved for Nick to follow.
The inside of the house was in sharp contrast to the personality of Russia. It resembled a New York loft in many ways. Open and airy, the white walls had very soft-colored paintings scattered among them. The floor was a whitewashed hardwood, and plants rested in every corner. The single object of poor taste was a large velvet painting of Elvis Presley hanging over a small fireplace in the study where he found Marina and the old man. An American had something to do with the place. That Nick knew for sure. “I didn’t expect this.”
Marina was quick to introduce them. “Nicholas, this is Vladimir. Vlad is the caretaker here. Vlad. This is Nicholas, my friend.”
“You are welcome here, Nicholas.” Vladimir spoke with great sincerity. He was quite disarming, yet he commanded respect. An unusual persona for a caretaker.
“Thank you.”
“You like the house?”
“I find it imaginative.”
“Vlad looks after the place for an American who does business with the government. In exchange, he gets to stay.” It was the first time Marina seemed at ease. She felt protected in these surroundings, and that made Nick feel better.
Being the perfect host, Vlad went to a secret panel and retrieved a fifth of vodka. He offered the drink. “I hope you are staying for dinner?”
“We cannot,” said Marina. “Our appointment is tonight. It is one we must not miss.”
“Will you return then?”
She shrugged.
It disturbed Vlad the way she always seemed to run in and out of his life. He embraced her the way a father would a daughter. “Marina. You must stop this nonsense. I know what you do. It is very dangerous. Don’t go tonight. Stay and make a new life.”
“You know that is impossible.”
Vladimir threw up his hands. “Very well. How can I help?”
“Bath and a change of clothes?” She gazed back at him with puppy eyes.
“Top floor, you know.”
She kissed him on the cheek and led Nick from the room.
The upstairs was as tastefully done as the main floor. The bedrooms were neat and clean with large windows for ample light. She towed Nick to the last room. It was for guests, and she knew it well. The dressers were filled with various garments to make any visitor’s stay relaxing. In the drawers, she removed some pants and a shirt for Nick. She found an old coat hidden in the closet with a matching hat. “Try these on. You must look more Russian. More like a factory worker.” There was an ashen dress for her.
Nick looked for an area to undress and saw none. It didn’t bother him to shed his clothes in front of a woman. Maybe it will thaw her personality. He chuckled to himself as he dropped his pants.
The response was a slightly raised eyebrow. Marina didn’t flinch. What Nick didn’t expect was for her to do the same. She pulled her shirt off, revealing two large, lovely, and perfectly set breasts. She had a mole — a beauty mark — above her erect right nipple. Beneath her panties was one of the shapeliest bottoms Nick had ever seen. To him she had gone beyond nudity, beyond erotic. She had suddenly become art. All he could do was stare.
“Have you never seen a naked woman?” Marina sounded matter-of-fact as she adjusted her panties before slipping the dress over her head.
“Y-y-yes,” stammered Nick.
“Odd. It doesn’t seem so.”
Nick caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, looking like an adolescent, erect. He fumbled to get the clothes on. “Ah, they don’t fit very well.”
“Good, you’ll look better. You can pass for Russian now.” She tossed him a pair of boots, and she put on some sensible shoes. The silence continued.
When they returned to the main floor, Vlad was waiting by the door with two small bags. He had a smile on his face as if he were sending his children off to school. “I made something to eat for each of you.”
Marina kissed him on the cheek and held him for several moments.
“Thank you,” interjected Nick. He left the house and waited for her by the car.
Vlad smiled. “Be careful, child,” he said.
“I will, old man,” Marina said affectionately. She stroked his silver hair. “I will see you again.”
“I know.”
She kissed him one more time then got in the car and drove away.
“He seems nice. Obviously a good friend.” Nick’s attempt at small talk was first met with silence. He was still embarrassed by the bedroom incident and was trying to get his mind as far away from it as possible. “Pretty good setup he’s got going there. By the way, thanks for being nice to me in front of him.”
“You were a guest in his house—” She wanted to finish the sentence but stopped. Which was okay with Nick.
Marina’s demeanor changed. She seemed to soften slightly. “My uncle smuggled his wife and children out of the country when we were under Soviet rule. He stayed and endured prison. After that, he vowed to serve my family, to repay the debt for getting them out. We told him that it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.”
“So when was his debt repaid?”
“He hasn’t stopped. By the grace of God, he has become a good friend more than anything else.”
“What about his wife and kids?”
“He’s seen them once. He obtained a visa to travel to Israel, and then he returned. It was enough for him to know his loved ones were safe. He came back to fulfill his promise.”
Nick was moved by the story. “A man of honor. Rare these days.”
The observation startled Marina, and for the first time, she looked kindly at Nick. “Yes. There aren’t many.”
He knew for the moment he had struck a chord with her, and he left it at that. It was the first good vibe he had felt since he had landed in the country.
They drove for another ninety minutes around Saint Petersburg. It was the beginning of spring, but it was still cold, and the sun dropped quickly behind the buildings, signaling the small markets to close and run from the chill. The streets of the gray city emptied. It was an eerie feeling for Nick. No entrance stood out as “the place to go,” yet Marina parked and insisted they walk. The streets were quiet except for the few strangers hustling to their next destination.
They didn’t reach the door soon enough for Nick. The cold, brisk Arctic air froze him to the bone. Marina it didn’t bother. A man behind the entry peeped at them for several seconds then opened wide to a boisterous bar. Men and women were drinking and dancing to the latest Russian rock groups. Most were inebriated. Everyone seemed to be having an exciting time. In any language, this was home for Nick. There was cheap light show to the beat of the music and people smoking pot in the dark corners. The bartenders poured nothing but shots, and most of them were vodka. Finally, Nick thought. A place I can relate to.
Marina made a beeline through the hazy atmosphere and greeted one of the bartenders working at the end. Nick followed.