Marina: a Tale of Serendipity 02

I appreciate all of the feedback to chapter 1. I also wanted to say that I appreciated the feedback to Escape Velocity, even though it was pulled. I'm still not sure why because I think I was writing within the guidelines, but someone thought I wasn't. That said, I will be seeking an editor or two to review it with that in mind to see what they think, and if it can be changed without significantly changing the point of the story, then I will try and post it again. Otherwise, I will look on it as a lesson learned. But again thanks to you all for the feedback to both stories. Good and bad, it is appreciated.

There are a lot of writers on this site that are spectacular, and I have become fans of a lot of them. I don't, however write like any of them. I tend to take my style from the paperback novels of the sixties, seventies and eighties, from sci-fi to porn. This last is where I get my love of excruciatingly detailed sex, the wetter and drippier the better.

I also like letting my characters talk. And they do...a lot. But part of that is because I am like that. Conversations like that are what I know. If that bothers you, or you don't like the way I write sex scenes, then feel free to skip. It won't hurt my feelings.

I'm moving this second chapter into Loving Wives because it is about a growing relationship between people who are already sleeping with other people and will need to deal with that. If the powers that be feel it needs to be somewhere else, just let me know.

It will also touch on incest themes, and a brief jog into the world of the Celebrities & Fan Fiction category. In that same section, I want to give a shout-out to jezzaz, who is outstanding at writing spy fiction on this site. One of the characters that appears briefly is borrowed from one of his worlds as an homage. I wrote asking for permission, but never got a response. I ask that he please contact me either way if he would be so kind, and I will of course change it should he rather I not use the character.

With that, and the usual caveat that this is a work of fiction, with all that entails, please enjoy.

Chapter II - You Had Me From Hello

My first thoughts as Jason drove me back to my place was, "Holy shit..." I felt achingly good, like I had just completed a two-hour extreme yoga session and two runs through a Camp Lejeune obstacle course, followed by two hours of in the ring doing impact conditioning. I was physically worn to a nub and had never felt better.

I again began to question the emotional and mental impact of the weekend. I mean, I was done with love, right? Never again! I would not allow myself to love that way... to trust that way again! Nothing was worth the heartbreak and heartache that waited at the end of such a connection.

Yet how could I go back to a life without her? That world was dreary, drab and seriously joyless. Didn't I owe it to myself to at least try?

Of course, the answer was yes. She was like a drug, and I knew I was hooked. I was in love like I've never been in love before. So, I was going to stay the course. I was headed toward the best years of my life, or a heartache of galactic proportions. More likely, a little from column A, and a little from column B. I had no idea how much of each, but I knew that I had to make the journey.

When I got home to my little two-bedroom condo, I spent an hour stretching, took an ice-cube bath, and then a mildly warm shower, and finally rubbed down the harder worn parts with an arnica and clove oil salve that I got from a local herbalist. I'd have to let her know that it worked wonders on my cock, so she could advertise it as a sex recovery ointment too.

I fixed myself a bowl of left-over bouillabaisse, which wasn't half bad, and popped open a bottle of 12 Dogs of Christmas Ale, which is one of my favorite seasonal beers from Thirsty Dog Brewing Company out of Akron. I had already caught up on the weekend's reports for work and was reading Carlo Rovelli's

The Order of Time

.

I realized that I had read the same page multiple times, and still couldn't tell you what it said, which is a sure sign of distraction. I looked at the time and saw that it was a little after 8:00.

"Fuck it," I said to the empty room, and dialed Marina's number.

When she answered, I suddenly felt lighter, as if somehow in the last few hours, weight had been piled on me that I didn't notice until it was suddenly gone. She simply said, "Hello?" and life was instantly better. If I needed an indication that I was toast, it didn't get clearer than that.

"I'm sorry to call early, but I just couldn't wait."

"Don't apologize, Sweets. I was counting the minutes myself. How are you?"

"Wishing I was wrapped around you."

"Curling up in front of the fire with you and a good book sounds lovely, doesn't it?" She sighed. "I didn't expect to miss you so much so fast, Jack. And it's not the sex...or more correctly not just the sex. That, both the fucking and making love, are addictive, and I can't wait to have you again. But I'm talking about something... I don't know... deeper, somehow. Even if we just sat watching television, or reading, I just want to be in your presence."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I know just how you feel. I was eating dinner and reading, and I thought how perfect it would be if we were doing that together."

"So, what did you have?"

It took me a second, then I said, "The last of last week's pot of bouillabaisse. And you?"

She laughed. "Pizza. So, you like to cook?"

"I do. I wouldn't say I'm passionate about it, but I've learned to enjoy cooking things that serve large numbers of people, because these usually store well, so I can eat them several times over the course of a week, and it allows me to explore all manner of cultural and historical recipes."

"Sounds delicious. Will you cook for me?"

"Of course, baby. How about you? Do you cook?"

"I do, and I enjoy it. I wouldn't say I'm great at it, not like my mother or my sister, but I'm not bad at the things I like to cook, and like I said, I love doing it."

"Like what? What are some of your favorites?"

We went on to discuss our favorite kinds of foods, from the pedestrian (old fashioned American meatloaf) to the exotic (Ethiopian). This of course led to a discussion on food sex, which she was a fan of, and with the exception of playing with whipped cream and honey I've never done.

I learned that she loved to ski but was even more a fan of the beach. I asked her if she had any time off over the next few months to go with me to the beach in Mexico and we made tentative plans for mid-February.

Finally, we were both yawning, and so I said goodnight, and told her I would call her in the morning. She ended our conversation with "Sweet dreams, Sweets."

I slept straight through the night, and don't remember dreaming at all. That's always a good thing.

The next day, Marina and I talked three times, cementing in my mind where we were in terms of our relationship. I was still somewhat off balance and didn't know what to make of the fact that the world was somehow a brighter, more beautiful place than it had been just a week before. I found myself smiling and laughing a lot more. My executive assistant Cassie Markham, and our secretary Tiffany Basset thought I had gone certifiably crazy. In fact, people started saying, "Who are you, and what have you done with Jack?" Truthfully even I didn't recognize myself a lot of the time. But considering the swing was upward toward the light, I didn't worry about it too much.

By Wednesday Marina and I were talking on the phone four or five times a day, and I couldn't wait to see her again, so we scheduled a date for Friday night. Which is why I was disappointed when Wednesday night she told me that she had to step in for Doctor Sandoval who was scheduled to speak at a conference in Chicago starting Friday night and going through the weekend.

We were at lunch on that Thursday when I asked, "Why don't I drive up Friday, take you to dinner, and we can spend a night or two doing wonderfully naughty things between your speaking engagements?"

She laughed, "I would love that Jack, but I would feel guilty the whole time because I wouldn't be focused on the conference, and you know it! All I would be thinking about is you and your amazing loving."

I sighed, but it wasn't serious, and she knew it. "Oh well, can't blame a guy for trying." I thought for a moment, then asked, "How about your schedule for next week?"

She thought for a moment, and she somewhat sadly said, "Jack, I'm probably not going to be free till Saturday. Work is picking up, and I've got evening sessions every night but Wednesday, and that's Pilates night."

I kissed her, and said, "It's okay, babe, I knew what I was signing up for. As much as I want to cave-man off with you this very moment, I can wait for another week. You are more than worth it."

She smiled widely and said, "Well, okay then. Why don't you pick me up for dinner on Saturday at 7:00. I'll pick the place and set up the reservations." She gave me a saucy look, and said, "Dress nice, and bring an overnight bag. I'll be lucky to make it through dinner without putting you on the menu."

"Yes, ma'am."

And so, it went. The following week though we had lunch almost every day, and we started staying on the phone with each other until one of us fell asleep. I even sent roses to her at the office on Friday.

On that same Wednesday of that first week after the party, I had decided to do something most people would consider so incredibly stupid and reckless that they would want to have me committed. I know both Cass and Tiffany did.

In fact, both of them laid into me, and I was surprised that I had any ass left after the chewing I got from those two ladies. But then, they helped me do it, as they were the ones who suggested the jeweler

Charles S. Rivchun and Sons

when I said I wanted a custom engagement ring.

This Cleveland business had been in existence for over 100 years and had a stellar reputation, so I figured they could do the job. And like almost everything else related to Marina, this turned out to be a serendipitous choice.

Another customer had asked them to design a particular ring, and had chosen the stones for it, but had asked that 24K yellow gold be used rather than the white gold that the jeweler had recommended. The gems were blue and cool white, and they just didn't look right with the warmth of the gold, so the client had not purchased the ring.

I specifically asked to see any examples of their designs, and they trotted that one out, along with a few others and a book of successful example photos.

On seeing it, I fell in love with its look and design, so I purchased the ring. I chose to replace the stones though, and of course I couldn't go the easy way. The primary stone, the ring's centerpiece, was a 1.20 carat emerald-cut Fancy green diamond. Officially the color was Dark Gray-yellowish Green, whatever that means. It matched the color of her eyes, and that was all I cared about.

Surrounding the diamond were eighteen princess-cut or near-princess-cut stones, alternating between Brazilian emeralds (I couldn't match the center stone with any other diamonds they had, so...emeralds), Fancy Deep Yellowish Orange diamonds, and Fancy Deep Brownish Yellowish Orange diamonds, with another fourteen stones of the same colors inlaid in the upper portions of the finger ring.

It was the single most expensive piece of jewelry I've ever purchased, and it's always a risk to purchase a ring that you will expect someone special to wear on a regular basis without their input. I, however thought it was perfect, so I started them on finishing it out.

One other thing of import happened before the weekend of our date, and it came completely out of left field and had the potential to really screw my life up. On that Thursday before, at mid-morning, I was wading through the weekly status reports on our national Tier IV operations when Tiffany buzzed me. I hit the intercom on my desk phone and asked, "What's up, Tiff?"

"There is a Colonel Clarissa McDonald from the British Consulate here to see you. She says you know her."

I did. Clarissa was a spook with MI6, at least she was when I had worked with her and Mal on a joint CIA/SIS operation over a decade ago. It was my first spook op, and I learned a hell of a lot from her. Since we were wearing husband-and-wife covers, I also learned a lot about her, at least I thought I did. What I came to realize though was that with spooks you never really know who they are. I don't think they always know who they are. And I'm pretty sure her name wasn't actually Clarissa McDonald.

"Please show her in, and if you would please bring us some coffee and whatever she would like."

A few moments later, my door opened, and she walked in, wearing a dark gray business formal suit, including pants and a light gray tie. Her hair was shorter and darker now, and there were a few more lines here and there on her face, along with a few scars that hadn't been there before, but she was still beautiful. I could go into a long description, but instead picture Bry Jensen, who except for the hair looks so much like Clarissa of a decade ago that they could pass for sisters, if not twins.

I came around and met her, extending my hand. "Clarissa! What a surprise!"

"Good to see you, Jack. How are you?" she asked in her melodic BBC-standard English accent.

I motioned her to join me at the small table I had in my office, and we sat. "I'm well, thank you. And you?"

She smiled that dazzling smile I remembered so well, "No rest for the wicked and all that."

We talked superficially about things we really didn't care about, and soon Tiffany came in pushing a wheeled tray with a coffee pot and supporting condiments on it. I thanked her, and then refreshed my own cup after Clarissa poured a cup of coffee for herself.

When I sat down again, I said, "So, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what can I do for you?"

She stared at me over the rim of her cup as she sipped her coffee. Finally, she said, "We may be reactivating Broadbent, and in the event we do, I will need you for it."

I stared at her for a few seconds. Finally, I asked, "You are kidding, right?"

She shook her head and smiled sardonically. "I am not."

"So - and I would think this would be self-evident, but I'm not with the Agency anymore."

"I know. That's why I am authorized to pay you. A considerable amount, and tax free."

I thought for a moment. "Who will have operational control?"

She said, "While it's a joint task force, OC will be with E Squadron - what used to be Increment. That's who I'm with now."

I needed to skull this over for a minute or two, so I threw out a conversational tangent. "I heard Adeena single-handedly took a defibrillator to the Section Initiative and brought back a few teams. I thought you might have been involved in that."

"She had approached me to head up 16, until Northwood intervened. So, I ended up on semi-permanent loan from 6 to E Squadron." Clarissa looked down, then back at me. "She was KIA while heading up 20."

I stared at her for a moment, remembering more than a few nights when Clarissa, Adeena Donavon, my best friend Mal Tanner, and myself would sit and drink

borovička

, talking about the fate of the world, the nature of reality, and whatever other crap we could come up with to decompress a little. "Well...shit."

She nodded. After a few moments I asked, "So that's it? Northwood has killed the Section Initiative for good?"

She took on a thoughtful look, and answered, "Not completely. Believe it or not, 20 is still operating. I'm hearing horror stories about Northwood cutting them off at the knees to force failure, but 20 keeps turning shit into gold. Alex Coltrane is actual now. Do you know him?"

I shook my head and finished my coffee. "No, but I think Mal worked a few ops with him."

"He's broken and fucked in the head, like all of us, but he's damn good at the job. He reminds me of you, actually."

I chuckled at that, then switching gears, I put my cup down, and asked, "So, where, when, and how long?"

She smiled as she put her own cup down and opened her briefcase, pulling two sheets of paper from it, both stamped in bold red letters with "CI/STRAP 3". That was the Brit's version of "TOP SECRET" with a designated security level.

The first document also had several sections that had been redacted. She said, "Top one is the operational summary of the larger op and the projected likelihood of initiating Broadbent, which is very small. However, in the event it does kick off, you will only have about 36 hours to insertion, so plan accordingly. Insertion will likely be in central Europe somewhere, and plan on one-to-three months. Of course, that is also subject to change.

"Second sheet is compensation. You will see we made it attractive."

I looked at the second page and let out the "holy shit" whistle because attractive was an understatement. I guess they wanted me to be a willing participant, and they knew that if the Agency forced the issue I would not be. So, they had sweetened the pot since I would technically be a contractor. I was to be ready to insert into the mission within 36 hours of call-up, and that standby was to be maintained for one year, starting January 1, 2019. For that, operation or no, I was to be paid one hundred thousand dollars. Then should it happen, at op end the payday would be one million. They really didn't want me saying no.

"Would you and I be going in again as Bridge and Max Stannic?"

She smiled suggestively and nodded, and said, "With all that entails, Jack. I look forward to that possibility."

I shook my head, thinking of Marina. "It's problematic for me, Clarissa. Isn't there a way you can do this without me?"

"No, Jack." She took another page from her briefcase. It was identical to the first page two, but the amounts were now two hundred fifty thousand and two million dollars.

And again, holy shit. How do you say no to that? "Alright. I'm in, on one condition: I want Mal as our handler."

She shook her head. "He's retired, Jack, and not operational."

"Things you could say about me, Clarissa. Hell, he was with 6 and Increment much longer than I was with Activity. He at least has some name recognition. Not only does no one in your current operation know me, I'm not worth as much because I am an outsider. I don't trust that, or them, and as much history and connection as you and I have, you would sell me down the river in a New York minute for the sake of the op. So, Mal either comes and handles us, or I'm out."

She stared at me, maybe wondering if I was just posturing to get more money. Or she might have been pondering, perhaps hurt by what I said, but I doubted it. She knew I was right, and so did I.

"Okay, Jack. I will present him with the same deal."

I hit my intercom and asked Tiff to come back in. Then I signed the document, and handed both pages to Tiffany when she arrived. "Scan and secure as SCI3, then back to Colonel McDonald here, please, Tiffany. I will let Tommy and the MC know in my WSR."

Once Tiff left, Clarissa said, "I noticed a lack of a ring. Does that mean you are free to start operational familiarization now?"

I smiled at her. I mean, Marina and I were nowhere near exclusive yet, and memories of sex with Clarissa were very, very good. But I wasn't even tempted. "Thanks for the invitation, but I'd rather wait. I've just started seeing someone, and I think it might be real."

She was about to respond when Tiffany entered and returned the documents to her. Clarissa glanced quickly at them, then secured them in her briefcase before standing. She held out her hand, which I shook, and she said, "Well then, thank you, Jack. Perhaps I will see you soon."