It was a bright yet chill October morning that Shelley Balboni dropped her daughter off at school. Her eight year old daughter, Barbara, balanced her new leaf collection delicately on her lap as the line of cars waddled sporadically forward as they discharged their precious cargoes. The radio susurrated a stream of traffic reports and ballads as Shelley tried to focus on her task as exhilaration sang in her ears. Just when she had given up on meeting her favorite Internet author, a message slipped through when and where she could meet him. Her panties were already wet.
"Mommy, you know I'm staying at Sadie's house tonight, don't you?" Barbara asked.
"Yes, dear," Shelley answered. "You're going to be at your cousin's all weekend. Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, Mommy. We double checked everything last night."
"Great. Promise me something?"
"What, Mommy?"
"Try not to stay up too late playing with Sadie."
"Oh, Mommy. I promise I won't do anything dumb." They reached the penultimate stop just before drop off, and Barbara pulled a strap of her backpack over her shoulder in preparation to getting out. "What are you going to do this weekend while we're away?"
Shelley took a deep breath before responding. "I'm meeting an old friend from College. We're going shopping."
"Oh. Did you remember to pack my sticker book?"
"Yes, honey."
Another short lunge and the sidewalk monitor opened the SUV door. Barbara scrambled out with her backpack and leaf collection, telling the monitor: "My overnight bag is in the back." The door opened and closed, and the little redhead skipped toward the door without a backward glance.
Shelley moved the vehicle into traffic and back homeward with trembling hands. She rehearsed in her mind what she was going to do: return home, grab her bag, slip out the back door, slip onto the Dulles shuttle and take the Metro to the Mall. There would be a note for her under the trash can just outside a particular Ladies' Room.
"Why don't you just tell me to meet you at a coffee shop or something, Neil?" She murmured as she drove. "Why the spy novel complications?" A series of stories on the Internet,
The Erotic Adventures of Rasputin
caught her fancy, and she had e-mailed the author several times over three months, talking about everything. The correspondence was fun, illuminating and stimulating; he really knew how to push her buttons. But she discovered her mail was being read, and he turned off the switch almost overnight.
Then, a note disguised as spam appeared, instructing her to meet him on this day at that place, and she was scrambling to make it. Fortunately, her husband was going to be out of town on business, and the children already had offers for sleepovers that weekend, so with mixed emotions she made her plans and was now on her way.
Her hands trembled as she put a few things in a large, over the shoulder bag. "I don't know why I'm doing this," she said aloud. It was exhilarating, going out to see a new lover, but she wished it wasn't so complicated. Her husband had lost all interest in sex after her youngest was born, and the long drought dispirited her from time to time. The bustle of a growing family made it for it usually, but she felt the need for something more. Reading stories on the Internet had opened a new world to her, setting her imagination free, but she had never wandered off like this before. Sitting heavily on the bed, she said to herself: "What the hell are you doing, Shelley? You're acting like a teenager sneaking away from home. You're too old for this shit."
After a few moments, her purpose returned. It didn't matter what Neil Dumbrowki might look like; he had a good heart and a lively imagination and that promised a toe curling experience. Getting into the spirit, she put on a large pair of sunglasses and a floppy hat before checking her makeup.
Shelley was an average woman in her mid forties. A few pounds over her college days, but who didn't carry a little extra? Her medium length blond hair fell down over her shoulders, and her coat bulged nicely. Rasputin indicated he liked curvy girls, so she wasn't concerned that he night be disappointed with her figure. A few crow's feet around her eyes and mouth did bother her, but she refreshed her makeup to disguise them.
Suddenly, she reached up under her medium skirt and pulled down her panties. They were far, far too damp to go out, and she was afraid the musk radiating from her would draw every horny man in a three state radius. Not she wouldn't mind that, but since it would take a while to negotiate public transport to her destination she didn't want to put up with a dripping crotch the entire way.
Another thought and she changed her skirt for a pair of slacks. They came in handy when she jumped her back fence to cross her neighbor's yard so she could leave without detection by her nosy neighbors.
As she made the journey into town, she recalled the picture he had sent her once. His face was craggy, with piercing blue eyes, soft brown hair and a lush, salt and pepper beard. It looked like it was taken with a digital camera in a mirror, although there was no flash in it. His build was a mystery, but he'd said he was a bit chubby and taller than average. The protagonist of his stories had boasted a nine inch penis, but he'd admitted he wasn't similarly endowed.
"Why haven't you written?" She murmured as she rode the rails through the dark tunnels. "I missed you. I missed you a lot."
The skies over the Mall were clouding up, but the weather forecast didn't call for rain. She was glad she wore flats as she made her way across the sidewalks toward the huge statue of the Great Liberator. There were a few folks sightseeing, but it was fairly empty.
Neil put his binoculars down and made a quick call on his cell phone. "Katya, what's up?"
"I do not understand, your Grace. Surely the sky is up."
"Never mind. Is she being followed?"
"Yes. One solo tail. I recognized his photo from the dossier."
"All right. Rendezvous as scheduled. Be careful."
"Yes, your Grace."
He hung up, and looked at her again. He had to laugh at the big hat and sunglasses; a clear indication she was trying to be inconspicuous. Shelley had a clear path to her destination, and her shadow was keeping a good distance. The thrill of the chase was pumping adrenaline into his system, and his breathing picked up.
He turned from his spot by the Korean War Memorial, and went toward the street Shelley came from, in search of a taxi. Vladimir caught up with him, and flagged down a cab. "I put the envelope where you asked, your Grace," the slim young man with dark hair said. "What's next?"
"For starters, don't call me 'Your Grace' until we're back home, Vladi. We're playing by the old rules today." They settled into the vehicle, and the older man gave an address in Georgetown. "You know what I expect of you and Katya when we meet this woman?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent." He put a wad of bills into the young man's hand. "Paint the town red tonight."
"I beg your pardon, sir? Weren't we trying to do that for most of the last Century?"
Neil winced. "Don't try humor in English for another year or two, Vladi. Have a good time with Katya tonight."
Shelley looked around anxiously while she circled the larger than life statue of Abraham Lincoln, but nobody there resembled what she knew of Neil. It had been a while since she was there, and after a few trembling moments, she remembered she had to go downstairs. As promised, under the trash can right by the Ladies' Room was an envelope marked "To Shelley, From Neil." Opening it, she read: DO NOT THROW THIS AWAY. YOU ARE BEING FOLLOWED. GO INTO THE CAPITOL AND WANDER AROUND A WHILE, LEAVING BY ANOTHER DOOR IF POSSIBLE.
TAKE A CAB OR BUS TO ANY METRO STATION YOU KNOW AND GET BACK ON THE TRAIN. GET OFF AT THE UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND STATION ON THE GREEN LINE AND MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T BEING FOLLOWED AS YOU CROSS CAMPUS.
I WILL MEET YOU AT THE STARBUCK'S COFFEE SHOP IN THE UNIVERSITY STUDENT UNION. I WILL NOT BE ALONE, BUT SIT AT THE TABLE NEAREST ME.
REMEMBER TATIANA? FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS AND YOU WILL BE TATIANA TONIGHT.
