Natalia’s Game. Крейг Т. Бушар

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      My intuition is that Thomas is a loner. Being a loner is a necessary condition to excel and survive in our line of work. When we spoke, he seemed confident but shy. He’s pleasantly unlike the unsophisticated men I’ve dealt with in Romania, Eastern Europe, or even Moscow.

      Sitting on my couch, he leans in and says, “I’m not clever enough or young enough to engineer a pick-up line for someone half my age. You’re more than a translator. How about telling me why you’re here, Natalia.”

      I sit, “Okay, if you are willing to reciprocate and tell me why you’re here. I’m an ofifcer, and you are a general. That deal favors me.” The game is on.

      He chuckles. “With your beauty and negotiating skills, you might become a general. We have a deal. But how will you know if I’m telling you the truth?”

      “Easy. Tell a lie to me, and that old body of yours will give you away.”

      He laughs, “Keep up with the humor, and I’ll tell you just about anything.”

      “Liar.”

      “What exactly do you do for the SRI?”

      “Nothing like getting to the meat of things quickly, General.” Being semi-serious, I say, “Is that how you are with women?”

      “That’s how I am with everyone. But the answer to your question is yes.”

      “Fair enough. My day job at the SRI is cleaning up problems. Two months ago, I was here undergoing the quantum physics aptitude tests. They told me I’m a lucid dreamer with paranormal potential. I had to tell the dummies that lucid dreaming is proven science and backed by the laws of physics. All that paranormal stuff is a waste of time.”

      “There are many lucid dreamers.”

      “Yes, but not with the rest of the package.” I am being sincere.

      “Natalia, tell me about your dreams.”

      Should I be honest with him? Maybe. After all, he is Thomas, the man of my dreams. I cross my arms, acting stubborn for no reason. “I can perform cognitive functions during my dreams.”

      “And?” he says. His tone suggests he knows more than he is letting on. “What kinds of cognitive functions”’ I hold his eye contact, blinking slowly and buying myself time.

      “Mathematical functions,” I say. “Sometimes more.”

      He inches towards me, his eyes piercing. “What else?”

      I do not break. The air between us grows hot. I break. “Decisions. Sometimes they change the course of my dream. I can have conversations with others inside a dream. The staff here seem to find that significant.” He nods, satisfied. I’m flustered but keep a straight face.

      “Good enough,” he says, “but that makes you one-in-a-thousand, not a one-in-a-million. I won’t comment on your looks. Adding that to the equation might put you closer to one in a million.”

      With a straight face, I admit, “Flattery will get you everywhere. Tell me, in your country, doesn’t such a statement set you up for a sexual harassment claim? I noticed how you looked at me today. Thank you, by the way.”

      “Natalia, we aren’t sitting on a couch in my country. we are next to your bedroom in Romania. And did I?”

      He is testing me. Flirting. I am not used to this, but I play along.

      “Notice me? Yes, I think you did.”

      He says, “Hmm. Might that be because I appreciated your English skills, your elevated IQ, or that body? Or might it have been because you couldn’t take your eyes off me? I suggest we talk about it now.”

      “General, why… now?”

      “Because there is no time like the present. It’s not every day a woman I don’t know introduces herself beautifully half-dressed. I liked it.”

      “My choices were limited. I didn’t bring a lot of clothes with me,” I say, trying to maintain a straight face. For me, Thomas is refreshingly not Romanian PC.

      I continue, “Since you seem to have a special ability to make me comfortable, I’ll tell you more about my dreams.”

      “Okay.”

      “I can see events in the future.”

      He’s in. Thomas stares at me. “That would make you one in a million. How often do you have a predictive dream, Natalia?”

      “I told the staff that it’s happened a few times. But, in truth, it happens often. My last one was thrilling and scary. I’m not talking about it, especially to you.”

      He doesn’t give up. “What kind of future events can you see?”

      I’m not mentioning Chanel, that’s for sure.

      “It depends. When I’m relaxed during the day,I see pleasant things in the future at night. When stressed during the day, I’ll dream about whatever problem I created or cleaned up. That can become a bad dream or even a nightmare. In my job, I deal with situations involving violence. Enough about me, General. The SRI could terminate me for sharing that information. By the way, I debugged my cottage the moment I arrived. I always do. They think I’m special, and they allow it. Your turn.”

      “I can hear the waves. I suggest we take a walk on the beach, and we can talk more there.”

      Fraternizing with Americans is risky, and the beach is outside the perimeter, making it a forbidden zone. Yet I know I can learn much from this man if we spend time alone. “Please give me a minute.” I disappear into my bedroom.

      I return wearing a blue bikini and nothing else.

* * *

      She doesn’t have a tan line – what an incredible physique. Brushing my arm with hers, she goes outside. Is she always this impulsive? One of my rules in life is: It’s never too soon. So out I go, knowing that “too soon” tonight could get me in trouble.

      On the beach, a few minutes later, she is a natural. She’d be a star on 5th Avenue or the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Natalia doesn’t waste time in the sand. Instead, she splashes her way through the shallow water. Not a ditsy move. She has a purpose.

      “Hurry up, old man. Violating the perimeter will trigger laser sensors; they don’t extend into the water.” She’s something else. I take off my pants and shoes, hide them nearby, jump in, and swim with her a quarter-mile around the boundary. A quarter-mile in the water for me is a challenge. I suck it up.

      Out of breath and back on the beach, she squeezes the water from her hair. “Are you okay?” She takes my arm, and we walk. American girls typically don’t take a man’s arm. Neither do the Asians. The Europeans do, and so do the Russians. I like the feeling; it allows me to relax. The bikini doesn’t hide much, and I know that pressing against me makes it easier for her to determine my heart rate. Natalia is a pro, a stunning pro.

      “So why did you come here, General Thomas?”

      “I came for two reasons. First, to attend the SRI Board meeting tomorrow and provide my perspectives on the state of the СКАЧАТЬ