Natalia’s Game. Крейг Т. Бушар

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      I lie on the sand, with a full moon filling the open area above. Full moons sometimes make me crazy. The light illuminates my curves. I am aware of his scent, which is sweet. There isn’t much more of my body for him to imagine. But what he can’t see, he probably wants to see.

      Perhaps I should have worn more. Too late.

      At this moment, I think of my dad.

      “An American, Natalia?” he would no doubt say. “Do you not remember what I warned you off? Trust no one – only yourself.”

      I look at Crew sideways. Will I ever be able to trust this pig? My occupation demands that I not, because things could get crazy. In an instant, my mind switches, and thoughts come faster and more robust than the lapping waves. What should I allow General Crew Thomas to do to me tonight?

      Out of my mouth flies the words, “For the rest of the night, I want you as close as you can be without touching me. Can you accept this?” OMG, why did I say that?! Unfazed, Thomas says yes, and more quickly than I expected. Oh no, he’s winning!

      Perhaps with another woman, I might have tested her will. Instead, I lie next to Natalia, staying within an inch – toes, hips, breasts, lips, all without a touch. “Good enough?”

      “You are good.” Game on. I am not about to touch Natalia again. She rolls over onto her back, staring at the moon, arms stretched above her head, thighs and knees together, casually resting in the other direction. I try to ignore temptation.

      “Have you ever had an out-of-body experience?” I ask her.

      What? “Perhaps. What about you, Crew?”

      “Yes, I’ve experienced O.B.E.” We watch together as a comet lights the sky above us and changes the conversation. Natalia is tired of talking, and she hasn’t pledged anything. She climbs on me and presses my shoulder blades to the ground, legs straddling my waist, her eyes intense. The top of her bikini falls to the sand – feelings as ancient as prehistoric people experienced flood my body.

      His mind can’t overrule this; his pledge is history.

      Waves rhythmically land a few feet outside the walls. Natalia scrapes the deepest and darkest of my needs. But I must learn more.

      “There is a rumor at Langley that the Romanians have a beautiful agent code-named ‘Queen,’ one with lucid dreaming capabilities. Is that you?”

      “Glad to hear that I’m being called beautiful. You did your homework. We have a mole. Yes, that is me. What are you going to do about it?”

      Natalia stretches out and lays her breasts on my chest. She is about my height, so it is a comfortable fit. She kisses me again. I wonder why she is attracted to someone much older. The answer must be complex. Her life has been a daily cauldron of pressure with life-and-death consequences. She has nightmares and longs for a man she can trust – someone who can make decisions so she doesn’t have to.

      I need a man who will treasure me, despite my imperfections. He attracts me in every way.

      I’d read about Anna Grigorievna Snitkina, the wife of Russia’s famous author and philosopher, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and admired her. When Dostoevsky was forty-four, he fell in love with Anna, and they began living together. Anna was nineteen. Dostoevsky carried heavy burdens from his life – prison, hard labor, exile, gambling debts, and the pain of epileptic seizures. With depth and strength of character, Anna turned his life around. She committed herself to his legacy after his death at age sixty. It’s not like I’m a Lolita, but the age of Crew Thomas does matter to me. It makes him more interesting.

      “Natalia, you asked me not to touch you. I’m trying my hardest here.”

      “You’re trying too hard. I have another three questions for you since all you are doing is feeling my half-naked body. Answer them, and it will be a fully naked body.”

      Crew rolls me onto my back and straddles me the same way I had him. The contact point is electric. He says, “What are your questions? You’re the one who took off your top. Not me.”

      “Crew, which abilities do you have?”

      “Pretty much all of them.”

      “That’s impossible. Precisely which ones do you have?”

      “I can manifest, astral project, switch, and teleport in the here and now, but not into the future – without a lucid dreaming partner.

      “Impossible.”

      “It is possible. I’ve done it many times.”

      “Let’s say, for the moment, I believe you. Can anyone else in the world do what you are suggesting?”

      “Yes, there are two others, but they aren’t as good as me.”

      “How do you know this?”

      “Because we know and have hunted each other. One is a Russian named Larin, and the other is Chinese, named Li.”

      “This is too much to fathom. Should I assume the women you loved are involved with this story?”

      “Yes. I believe the Russians may have killed one, and Li killed the other.”

      “Were they collateral damage?”

      “No, they were the targets. Final question, please. You said three.”

      “You mentioned that you would tell me later the second reason you came here. That time has arrived.”

      I’m not sure how to tell Natalia about the storm brewing, that my trip to Romania is recruitment…of her. That the Pentagon reluctantly authorized me to share as much information as necessary to bring her home.

      “Natalia, my abilities are here-and-now by nature. If I could see the future, I could project into it and change it – but projecting into the future works only if I have a partner who can see it and connect me. That is why I came here looking for you. The world is in trouble.” Done.

      What? I’m flabbergasted. His two dead girlfriends were lucid dreamers? He came here looking for me?

      “Crew, if I got that right, your two lovers were killed by super-spies. So why would I join you if they are still out there?

      Won’t that make me a target?” The words fly out of my mouth.

      “Worse yet, you came here to recruit me to the CIA? Are you asking me to defect? If you are, I’m putting my top back on.” I might as well maintain my sense of humor.

      “Natalia, I’m here to recruit you to me, not to the CIA. If need be, I’ll ask your President for permission.”

      “Our President?” Her voice elevates. “What’s he got to do with this?” I find it notable that she could debate this while lying unabashedly half-naked. She seems not to notice. Tih s girl has focus and a killer instinct, precisely what I need.

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