A Rose for Sergei
Chapter 1
(Part 3)
Fall 1972
It was hard
to believe that Sergei was my date for the evening. When I was a child I was afraid of Russians. I never forgot the air raid drills we had in
elementary school. My father was a pilot
in the U.S. Air Force and my family lived on military bases. When the air raid siren blasted we practiced
hiding under our desks at school, using them for protection from shattered
windows, as we prepared for an attack that might one day come from the Soviet
Union. And yet, here I was now, having
dinner with…the “enemy.”
In fact the
whole scenario did not seem real, meeting like we did. We were attracted to each other right from
the first introduction. That surprised
me, not me being attracted to him, but him being attracted to me. Next to Sergei, I thought I seemed rather ordinary—petite,
five feet tall, slender, blue-green eyes and long, straight sandy blonde hair
that flipped up at the ends. “Cute,” is
how most people would describe me. Although
just recently a DC taxi cab driver told me, “A pretty girl like you should not have
to pay for anything!” That taxi ride was
definitely one of those scary parts of the city moments.
I jumped as
I set my wine glass back down on the table.
Sergei had quietly returned by way of sneaking up behind me and grabbing
my shoulders with both of his hands. His
enormous hands seemed to totally engulf my shoulders and upper arms. He had startled me, and he found that rather funny. I looked over my left shoulder and I could
see him leaning over me with a huge grin on his face. I had to laugh at myself for being so
jumpy. I turned my head back towards the
table.
He bent
down lower and whispered in my ear, “No, wait.”
Coming Soon!
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