It occurred to me that not everyone was able to
read the end of Chapter 1 of A Rose for
Sergei on the Amazon website. And I
felt I would be remiss if I didn’t include the ending of Chapter 1 on my
blog. Truth be told, it was my favorite chapter
to write. It sets the tone for the book.
For those of you that were left wondering what
happened when Sergei Kourdakov returned to our table in the restaurant you can
catch up now. Chapter 1, in its entirety,
is printed below!
A Rose for Sergei
Chapter 1
Key Bridge Marriott
Fall 1972
“Excuse me;
I would like to go to the men’s…how do you say in America…restroom?” Sergei
asked in his broken English. “Is that the
right way to say that?”
“Yes, that
is the right way; you could also say men’s room. And it’s okay to excuse yourself,” I said. “It isn’t rude. I’ll be fine sitting alone a few minutes at
the table until you return,” I assured him as I smiled and tried to refrain
from laughing. He was so incredibly
polite. The way he spoke, his broken
English combined with his Russian accent, could be very amusing at times.
We were
having dinner at the JW Steakhouse at the Key Bridge
Marriott in Arlington, Virginia. My date
was Sergei Kourdakov. He was twenty-one
years old, and he had defected from the Soviet Union over a year ago. He had been a member of the KGB, the
Commissariat for State Security or secret police, and a Soviet naval intelligence
officer—intimidating credentials for sure.
He was also very good looking, which I found even more intimidating.
I worked as
a secretary at the Office of Information for the Armed Forces, a division that
came under the Office of the Secretary of Defense. I was also twenty-one years old. We had recently met at my office in Rosslyn,
Virginia. Sergei had flown in from Los
Angeles and was meeting with Government Officials in Washington DC. Sergei’s incredible story was making headlines
in the United States. Future plans were
being considered for Sergei to record/broadcast his story in another section of
our office, the American Forces Radio and Television Service. My boss was the liaison officer tasked with
assisting Sergei.
As Sergei
got up from the table and sauntered off in search of the men’s room, I could
see that all eyes in the restaurant were on him. Both men and women stared at him, even the
wait staff. I was not surprised at their
seemingly awestruck reaction. He was
very tall with huge broad shoulders and muscular arms that strained at the
seams of his shirt, the result of years of body-building. His stride was confident, purposeful, and he
definitely commanded attention. He stood
out in any crowd.
While I
waited for his return, I leaned back in my chair and enjoyed the view out the
windows. The restaurant was on the top
floor of the hotel, and you could see all the grandeur of Washington DC, Georgetown,
and Georgetown University right across the Potomac River. The view was breathtaking at night with the
city lights twinkling ever-so-slightly in the reflection on the water. It was captivating; I never tired of that
view. In the early evening the city lights
illuminated the streets and radiated a soft, peaceful glow over the city. The lights also helped hide the scary, dark
parts of the city, and I liked that.
I wrapped
my fingers around the stem of my wine glass just a little too tightly. It must
be a case of “second date nerves,” I thought. Just
take a deep breath and try to relax,
I told myself. I had been on many dates;
however, nothing even came close to this.
Sergei was so different from anyone I had ever met, let alone
dated. He was a Russian defector whose
past history with the KGB was nothing to take lightly. It was serious business, and the element of
danger was not lost on me.
My thoughts
flashed back to security briefings from when I worked at the Defense Intelligence
Agency (DIA). We were taught to be on
the lookout for anyone trying to coerce secret information from us. These people could be friends or neighbors,
someone that you would not ordinarily suspect.
They had a word for people like that…spy. The thought that Sergei could be a spy did
cross my mind, but I knew I had never told him I used to work for DIA. I brushed those thoughts away for now since I
knew I tended to be overly suspicious sometimes. But then, I always did love mystery and
intrigue.
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.”
He then placed
one hand at the base of my neck and slowly traced a line with his fingers up my
neck. As soon as his fingers reached my
chin, he tilted my head upright and straight back so I was looking up toward
the ceiling and directly at him as he leaned over me. I was totally entranced; his touch was gentle
and cool on my warm skin. It was very sensual,
and I felt my heart beating rapidly as I let out a slightly inaudible gasp. I was motionless as he lowered his head and
his lips touched mine, ever-so-tenderly.
He kissed me several times in this strange, exciting, upside down
position, his hand still holding my chin, his fingers caressing my neck, his
tongue brushing against my lips. And
then suddenly, it was over, and he took his place across the table from me and broke
into a huge, satisfied smile.
I sat
frozen in my chair. Now that my senses
had returned I realized we had created quite a scene right in the middle of the
restaurant. Again all eyes were on him and
now on me. I hoped people thought my red
glow was from embarrassment when in reality my cheeks and neck were hot and
flushed from his unexpected display of affection.
“What do
you think?” Sergei asked. “Did you like
that?”
Did I like that?
Was he serious? Did I like that? I was speechless for a minute,
trying to compose myself from what was in fact the most incredible kiss I had
ever experienced. It was a kiss that
renders you powerless because of its intensity and the meaning behind it. And yet it was a gentle, yearning kiss. It was a kiss that exploded through my whole
being with a burning desire. It was like
fireworks in my mind, my heart, my soul.
It was a kiss that you wait for your whole lifetime.
“Ummm…well,
yes…I did like that,” I shyly responded in all honesty. I prided myself on my honesty but suddenly
wished I had demurred on my answer. I
was still flushed and self-conscious that the rosy glow on my cheeks lingered
and that he could tell how I felt about him.
I knew that I was really starting to like him, a lot in fact. I couldn’t help but wonder why he asked me if
I liked his kiss. I did not have to wait
long to find out the reason for his sudden display of affection.
“I kissed
you like that because I saw guy kiss girl like that on TV, and I wanted to try
it!” he explained in his sexy Russian accent.
He had an expression of delight on his face and looked very pleased with
himself.
I couldn’t help
but smile back at him; he had an easy way of making me feel comfortable around
him, protected, even with the mind-blowing kiss. How could I be upset about the TV kiss? He looked so proud of himself regarding that mission. Mission accomplished, I
thought. Very well accomplished and
executed indeed.
We talked
incessantly after that, learning more about each other as we enjoyed our
dinner. However, I couldn’t help but
notice that Sergei would periodically look around the restaurant, as if
scanning the room for something. What?
What is he looking at, or looking for? I was curious, but I didn’t mention it then. We were having a wonderful time together. And then out of the blue he said the most startling
thing to me.
“You are
beautiful girl,” he said, dragging out the r’s in his accent as if saying
gurrrrl.
His words
caught me by surprise, and I blushed slightly.
Well, that comment was certainly unexpected. I could only smile up at him because once
again I was speechless.
“Beautiful
girl like you,” he said and then hesitated slightly. “Beautiful girl like you…you could be spy!” he
said in all seriousness.
He stared
at me and through me with his piercing blue eyes, a look of concern…or was it confusion…across
his face. My heart sank right then and
there. He thinks I’m a spy! How did
I ever end up in a situation like this?