Jan 22, 2003
So. California
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is a what if story, brought about by the five seasons of Alias. We know the beginning, the middle, and the ugly ending, which, by and large, no fan truly liked, except the magazine staff. Somehow, I don’t even think some of the actors enjoyed the ending.

However, during the five seasons we lived and died with the Bristows, a thought kept running through my mind. Jack was a harsh critic of his wife, Sydney’s mother, who betrayed him, who spied on him, a CIA agent, for ten years. Duplicitous, Manipulative, Devious…all words to describe a woman he was so in love with that he was oblivious to what she was doing. It very nearly destroyed him. It very nearly destroyed the relationship between his daughter and him.

Therefore, this story is about what if Jack was sent to…Moscow…to marry Irina Derevko. I’ve taken some of what we know and twisted them in order to write the story.

DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to JJ Abrams and ABC Television with the exception of those I develop.


Somewhere in Virginia

Jack Bristow entered The Farm through an entrance known only to a very few men. He was six foot two, muscular, smooth shaven with the exception of a mustache he’d been ordered to grow. The most prominent feature was his ears, which were large, almost too large for his head. Overall, however, he was a handsome young man of twenty-four.

He trained for five years for the assignment he was about to embark on at a facility known only to his immediate superior, Ben Devlin. He was one of several men and women who lived in a small town near the CIA’s training facility. It was actually located off a road in an isolated area of Virginia’s mountains. It was surrounded by a well-guarded fence. No one ever entered the town and no one left until now. No one at Langley even knew there was a town in the area.

There Jack became proficient in speaking as well as reading Russian to the point that he spoke English with a heavy accent. His linguistic ability was the deciding factor when the CIA recruited him when he was a freshman at the University of West Virginia. He read Russian newspapers, books, plays, scientific articles, anything and everything until he buried his previous life to a place even he couldn’t fathom. Family, school, friends, and home were buried as his memory was blocked from everything in his past.

When he met with Ben Devlin, he was no longer Jonathan Donahue Bristow, CIA agent. He was Ivan Brestov, a young 24-year-old aeronautical engineer with a brilliant career ahead of him. He was a graduate of Irkutsk University’s School of Engineering. He graduated first in his class and assigned to the Science College at the University of Moscow by the Party. They needed brilliant engineers to teach others and Ivan got the job.

Ben Devlin rose when Jack entered the bunker. “Good to see you, Ivan.” He said in Russian.

“Da, you too!” He replied in Russian.

“I don’t have to remind you how important this is. You are going to infiltrate a gigantic devilish organization whose tentacles grip the world and live under the gun, so to speak. I’m not going over that, because I’m sure you would not have taken the job if you didn’t know the risks.”

“What is my assignment?”

“Not what, but—who, is your assignment.” Ben reached into a folder and removed a picture. “This is Irina Annya Derevko. She graduated last year with honors from the KGB Academy. She is single and 22 years old.” He handed the picture to Ivan.

He whistled, responding in Russian, “She’s a stunner.”

“—and a brilliant KGB communications officer. She is a code expert and cryptologist.” He pulled another photo out. “This is her supervisor, Nicholai Petroffskiy. He may or may not have bedded her down yet, but there’s a chance he hasn’t.”

Ivan handed Nicholai’s picture back, but kept Irina’s in his hand. “My job is?”

“Marry her.”


“…information about anything and everything. We’ve observed her for over a year now and she does bring a briefcase back to her apartment, one she shares’s with her two sisters.”

“They going to be a problem?”

Ben shrugged. “That will be up to you. They all work for the KGB.” He handed him a heavy packet. “In there are all your papers—everything that will back up your history. Irkutsk is a long way away from Moscow. Your Party membership card is in the wallet. There are about 4000 rubles also to get you from Irkutsk to Moscow. We are going to drop you next Tuesday night. There is no moon. You’ll travel to Moscow by train, as flights out of that city are sparse. That will take you a less than a week.”

“Do I have a place to live?”

“No, but the Party supervisor at the University will most assuredly get you a furnished apartment, one you will not have to share. In the packet are copies of papers you wrote and published. Study them and the theories propounded. They are new to the Russians. We’ve kept the lid on them over here.” He grinned. “Our scientists were a little unhappy about it, but we paid them off with some heavy grants that will take them in another direction.”

“When do I leave?” Ivan held the packet in his hand.

“Tonight. You’ll fly to Los Angeles and from there to Anchorage where you will board the next spy plane flight. You’ll be on board and will jump at the pilot’s command.” Ben wasn’t worried as the young man trained for HALO jumps for several weeks last summer.

“Then if there’s nothing more…”

Ben took the young man’s hand. “God speed, Ivan. Oh, by the way, stay as long as you can. However, if they get suspicious, you know the protocol asking for extraction?”

“Da.” He shook Ben’s hand, turned, and disappeared out the door.


It was late fall and the light snow had fallen for three days, blanketing the city in white. It was the first snow of the season, but Muscovites took it in stride. This was their city and it was good. Irina Derevkova walked into GUM on her way home. She needed a pair of hose. Making her way past kiosks and stalls, she found herself in a woman’s store where lingerie was sold, including hose.

Paying for her purchase, she stuffed the small package into her briefcase and, nodding to the sales girl, turned to leave. Instead, she bumped into a young man who was waiting in line behind her.

“Sorry,” she said.

“My pleasure,” said the man. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Nyet, spasibo.”

He smiled at her and nodded, taking her place at the counter. Irina left thinking that he was the nicest man she’d met in a while. She glanced back at him noting he was a couple of inches taller than she was and she was six foot. He good looking even though his ears were a bit larger than most. It didn’t detract from his looks though. She sighed, leaving the building. She still had several blocks to go before reaching her apartment.

She rushed out and turned left to cross over the Moscow River. Darkness was falling and there were not many streetlights. Women walking alone were not safe, not even in the best of areas. She wanted to get to the apartment as fast as she could. Irina pulled the collar of her coat up and shoved her hands into her pockets. Her briefcase hung from her wrist as she hurried along.

Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and they were quickening. Damn it, she thought. She hoped it didn’t mean trouble. Zamoskvorechie was the old and true Moscow residential area. To live here was the best and safest for those lucky enough to have an apartment. She quickened her own pace.

“Miss?” A voice called out from behind her.

A man’s voice! Irina frowned. She’d heard that voice only recently. “Who are you?” She asked, but didn’t stop.

“Sorry, but we didn’t introduce ourselves back at GUM. Please, I just need some directions. I’m new to Moscow.”

Irina stopped and turned. He was only a step behind. “What do you want? I’m late getting home and my sisters will be worried.”

“Ivan Brestov.” He held out his hand. “I’m a teacher and the Party assigned me to the University, but I don’t know where this is exactly.” He handed her a piece of paper. He flashed her the warmest smile she’d seen in a long time. “I asked the girl at the counter you left, but she didn’t know.”

She peered at the paper and then moved closer to one of the few lights on the street. “Oh, that’s funny; you’ve been assigned to an apartment in my building. Come. We can walk together.”

“Spasibo.” He fell in beside her. “How far is it?”

“Five, six blocks.” She walked fast. He kept up with her.

“I appreciate it, Miss…er…Miss…?”

“Irina, Irina Derevkova,” she answered. “I’m in communications work.” She didn’t want to scare him with the letters KGB. It was evident he was not from Moscow or any place close by.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance and thank you for your kindness.”

Irina smiled to herself. She liked him. He was polite and well brought up. Some of the men she worked with were coarse and ranked, by her, as a bunch of thugs. She liked her supervisor, Nicholai, but had been fending him off for months. He was determined ‘to get into her pants’ as Katya so poetically said it. Yelena simply rolled her eyes and warned Irina to be careful and not acquire his wrath. However, Irina was careful…playful with him, but never acceded to his advances. She walked a tightrope and hoped she could keep him at bay until it was necessary to have him…transferred. Irina was the protégé of a high-ranking director in the KGB and who had no such claims on her, namely sex.

Minutes later, she entered an apartment building having glanced first at a window near the entrance. It was closed. She wouldn’t have to answer any questions about Ivan. Sometimes older sisters could be a pain. Irina wished her parents were still alive, but they weren’t so she had Katya and Yelena instead mothering her.

Irina shut the door behind them. “You are in apartment 3A, upstairs two flights.” She gestured in that direction.

“Spasibo, Irina Derevkova.” He kissed her lightly on one cheek and started up the stairs. Then he turned and looked at her. “I have a question.”

“Da?” She didn’t raise her voice.

“Would it be too much to ask if you’d be willing to show me Moscow? I know no one and you’ve shown a willingness to help a stranger.” He stepped toward her.

“Da,” she whispered, touching her cheek where he’d pressed his lips.


“Saturday? It’s a day I am free.”

“What time?” He persisted.

“Ummm, ten o’clock?” She gestured at the door. Irina knew Katya and Yelena would be gone by then.

“I’ll be there,” he nodded toward her door, turned and ran up the stairs whistling.

“Da,” she whispered again. She turned the key in her lock and entered the apartment.

Da – Yes
Nyet - No
Spasibo – Thanks, thank you


May 23, 2004
Ha, a mustache. I hope Irina convinces him to shave it off! :D

Thanks for posting here!


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
You don't like a YOUNG Jack in a mustasche? Tsk. The reason he grew one was to make him look just a little older...and serious as a teacher of aeronautics must be. He did not want to look like an old foggy teacher, but more distinguished. Besides, it kept the upper lip warm. Will Irina ask him to shave it off? Maybe in the summertime...we'll see.



Jan 22, 2003
So. California
2- Seduction

Irina took Ivan to all the tourist spots, starting with Lenin’s Tomb, the Kremlin, and St. Basil’s Cathedral on their first date. It was a date, she knew, because Ivan took her to dinner. They followed the first Saturday with another day’s outing the next. This time she pointed out historical monuments, statues and various government buildings that did not get prime spots inside the Kremlin grounds. She took him by Lubyanka where the KGB took prisoners and where some of the offices were located.

On both occasions, Ivan took her to her door, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and said goodnight. He didn’t touch her improperly or asked her to sleep with him. He was the first man she’d ever felt safe with since reaching puberty. She liked him more and more as they spent time together.

This continued for weeks. Irina warned him about her sisters’ protectiveness and he respected it. “I wish I’d had an older brother or sister. As it was my parents could have no more children after I was born.”

They had been dating for two months when he kissed her…on the mouth. “I think I am in love with you, Irina.” He murmured softly. Then he kissed her as she’d never been kissed before, his mouth engulfing hers, his tongue exploring her mouth so thoroughly she whimpered. Desire spread through every nerve in her body. She pressed up against him as he pursued every erotic aroused sense she had. She felt as if her whole body was on fire.

“Can I make love to you,” he whispered, his mouth was working along her jaw line and chin. “I want you so much. I need you, moya milochka.”

“Oh boje…pazhaluysta.” She felt herself lifted as he almost ran up the stairs carrying her in his arms.

Fumbling in his pocket, he found his key and opened the door. Closing the door behind him, he set her down. She reached up and pulled his head down to meet her mouth. Her hands held his face as she kissed him with almost desperate need. His hands were under her blouse, moving to her breasts and nipples.

“Ohhh!” She groaned. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them gently as he worked his way down her jaw line, his lips touching her soft skin like feathers.

He shrugged out of his jacket. She took off and threw her coat at a chair. They kept kissing as Ivan backed her up slowly toward the bed in the corner. Anticipating his success in seducing her, he’d managed to get some decent sheets and put them on the bed. She fell back. Ivan pulled her blouse off; then pulled down her peasant skirt. He pulled her panties off, which were already soaked with her fluid. He undid his belt buckle and dropped his pants. His boxers barely held back his hard throbbing penis. Ivan heaved with the anticipation of his next moves. He knew that he was falling in love with this young Russian woman. That, he’d not thought about, but now, as he stared at her lying naked on his bed, he was sure.

“Moya boje,” she whispered seeing his erection. Ivan was big. The first time she had sex the young student she chose didn’t come close to his. She licked her lips, anticipating a better result than the first time, or even the second time she had sex. None of the times was satisfying and she more or less gave up finding someone who could make her happy.

He stepped out of his boxers. Ivan straddled her and quickly pulled her bra off over her head. He bent down and sucked her breast and nipple on the left. He squeezed and pinched the one on the right.

Irina was moaning. Every nerve was singing. “Pazhaluysta, Ivan, pazhaluysta,” she panted. She wanted him inside her.

He moved back. Spreading her legs, he lifted her buttocks and slowly entered her. She groaned as she took him as far as he could go. Sweat glistened on her body as desire overwhelmed her.

“*frack me, Ivan,” she whispered.

“Not just yet,” he was holding back himself. He wanted her to remember this forever, her first time with him. “You are so beautiful, my Irina, so beautiful.” He bent forward and pressed his lips against her abdomen. As he did, he moved his penis out an inch or two. When he pushed it in again, he pulled at both nipples and twisted. She gasped.

“Ivan…” she was panting. He was playing with her.

“Sweetheart, I love you and I want the best for you.” He pushed in hard as he reached for her lips and mouth, sucking at her tongue.

She screamed and then gasped as nerve endings exploded. She still hovered though, expecting more. Then those same nerves sharpened into a sharp point. She felt herself drawn upward.

He started pumping hard, pulling out, and thrusting. She matched his movements and threw her extraordinarily long legs around his buttocks. The bed rocked hard and Irina whimpered feeling the edge of something wonderful continue building deep inside. Ivan knew he was going to come and wanted her with him. He reached down with his left hand and found her clit. He pinched and twisted the throbbing flesh.

Irina exploded under him, rising up and screaming, “*frack, boje, *frack!”

Ivan could not hold back. His jizzum flooded her womb, tubes and vagina. He groaned in exhaustion. Both their bodies bore sweat that dripped onto the sheets. Ivan’s penis slowly shriveled and he pulled out of her.

Leaning down, he kissed her. “Boje, moya milochka…that was the best *frack ever.” He kissed her again; then murmured more endearments.

Irina was on fire. Every nerve ending had been touched by the orgasm. She never thought sex would be like this. When growing up, the family lived in a one-bedroom apartment. She and her sisters slept on pallets in the large family/kitchen room. Her parents had the tiny bedroom. They had sex and the girls, when older, knew everything that went on in the bedroom.

When she was brave enough, Irina, at the age of eleven, finally asked her mother about sex. Her mother explained in detail. Irina had the distinct impression that she did not like it. She pressed her about results. Anna Derevkova, her mother, explained she was never satisfied…that there was always something missing. Of course, she went on, sex was for procreation…to have children for the State. Irina wasn’t so sure that that was all sex was good for…there had to be more. Now she knew and she pitied her mother.

“That was the most glorious experience I’ve ever had,” she whispered.

Ivan turned on his left side, letting his fingers trace her strong jaw line, move under her chin and then down the middle of her body. He leaned over her breast and kissed it, tugging slightly at the nipple. She shuddered as something awakened again. She wondered if it was possible. He kissed her other breast and his right hand found her clit. He touched it. She jerked. He began stroking it, playing with it in a soft manner. She keened in almost a desperate tone…high down to a low growl.

Ivan ran his finger down the labia lips and slipped two fingers inside. She groaned. He pushed them further, moving them in a circular fashion. She whimpered experiencing a feeling of an impending explosion again. Shifting his body, Ivan kneeled between her legs and began sucking her clit.

“Moya boje!” She screamed.

He didn’t stop, but put three fingers deep inside, stroking her vagina with even strokes…in and out…in and out. His mouth played havoc with her clitoris and she screamed as another orgasm hit. Ivan leaned back watching her buck, as wave after wave of intense pleasure hit her once more.

“I’m falling in love with you, Irina,” he whispered, once more lying next to her.

“Ivan,” she whispered, “I’m not letting you go.”

“What are you talking about…you mean now?” He was puzzled.

“No! I want you to be mine. Forever.”

He smiled wickedly. “Irina, sweetheart, the past two months have been the happiest of my life. I—I want us to be together too.”

“We have to be careful.” She turned on her side, looking at him. “I have two sisters you have yet to meet. Neither one is married and…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “We need to get them to know you and it will take time.”

“How long?” He reached up and stroked her long dark chestnut colored hair.

“Not long, if we play them.”

He frowned. “Play them?”

“Da!” She explained. He smiled. She was sneaky, but then she was the prize he wanted. He would go along with the plan.

“Does this mean we have to stop seeing each other for a while?” His hand caressed the mound between her thighs.

“No. But I don’t want them to think we’ve been intimate either.” She frowned. “They go away to visit our elderly aunt who lives on the outskirts of Moscow, about a hundred kilometers. Sometimes they want me to go, but I don’t always. That’s where they are today. When you do meet them, however, keep your hands to yourself, as I will mine.”

“If I put my hands in my pockets. That’s going to be the only way I’ll be able to keep them off you.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Now I think we should shower.”

“Me first,” she said, rolling out of bed.

He leaned back watching her grab her clothes and enter the tiny bathroom that was, to him, a luxury. He laid back, hands behind his head. He felt a little giddy and somewhat frightened. Ivan was sure he would make Irina his in the not too distant future.

First, however, he must win over the sisters and that might prove a daunting


Boje – God
Moya boje – My God
Moya milochka – My darling
Pazhaluysta - please


May 23, 2004
“I think I am in love with you, Irina.”
Ah, yes, Chpt 2 and we're at the good part already! (y)

You don't like a YOUNG Jack in a mustasche?
Whenever I think of Jack with facial hair it's either the long, hilarious beard combo he had going after Syd's absence or the one he had in The Passage. Strange, but so fantastically suitable. And, well, Russia is cold... ^_^

Making her way past kiosks and stalls, she found herself in a woman’s store where lingerie was sold, including hose.
Paying for her purchase, she stuffed the small package into her briefcase and, nodding to the sales girl, turned to leave. Instead, she bumped into a young man who was waiting in line behind her.
Sorry, I just re-read Chpt 1... Jack's in a woman's store! :LOL: ! I suppose in my head it's still thinking it's realverse Jack!

Thanks for the pm!


Jan 22, 2003
So. California
Sorry, I just re-read Chpt 1... Jack's in a woman's store! ! I suppose in my head it's still thinking it's realverse Jack!

Hey, he was there to bump into Irina AND to ask for information about his new apt. The girl was not helpful, so he trotted after Irina. And so it begins... ^_^



Jan 22, 2003
So. California

It turned out to be almost impossible for about a month. He never could manage to ‘bump’ into either Katya or Yelena. Then one Sunday morning, he glanced out the only window he had in his small living room and saw Yelena fussing about their car. Katya and Irina stood near by watching.

Ivan grabbed the small bag of garbage he had, shrugged into his jacket, and rushed out of the door, down two flights of stairs and out to the inner courtyard where tenants parked their cars. He threw his bag in the garbage container. He looked up at the women standing around the car and hurried over.

“Can I help you?” He didn’t look at Irina, but at Yelena, who was cursing under her breath.

She looked up. “Who are you?”

“Ivan Brestov. I live on the third floor.” He gestured at the apartment building. “I know something about cars. Could I look?”

Yelena stared at him for a moment, then stepped back, saying, “Pazhaluysta!”

Ivan stood looking at the engine. The car was old and probably not long for this world. Still he knew he would fix it, because Irina managed to disconnect one spark plug from the distributor. The cap covered the disconnection. Ivan found the slip of paper telling him what she had done. He knew exactly how to fix it.

“Ladies, this might take an hour or so. Would you not be more comfortable waiting in your apartment? As soon as I fix it, I’ll come and get you.”

“Yes,” whined Irina, shivering, “please let’s wait where it is warmer than here.”

Yelena was hesitant. Ivan smiled at her. “I understand, but believe me I do not want the car. I am a teacher at the Science College at the University. This is very old and requires delicate handling. Of course, you could take it to be repaired.”

Now Katya groaned. “Oh no, that would take forever. Come on, Yelena, I trust him.” She looked him up and down with calculating eyes. Irina warned Ivan that she was man-crazy.

Mumbling a little, Yelena acquiesced. “Okay, we are in the front downstairs apartment. How long?”

He shrugged, “If there is nothing that needs replacement, I’ll check all the connections and the most common things. Just leave the key.” He smiled at all three warmly and without guile.

They nodded, turned, and left him bending over the engine. He did exactly what he told them he would do—checked every connection, leaving the distributor until last. He worked diligently for about thirty-five minutes. Five minutes after that he had the spark plug re-attached properly, putting the cap back on, and closed the hood. He sat in the driver’s seat and started the car. It coughed a couple of times, but then started. Ivan locked the car and entered the building.

He knocked on their door. Yelena threw it open.

“Ladies, your car is running. One of the spark plugs was not attached properly to the distributor. It probably worked itself loose. I re-tightened everything and so it should work properly for you.” He handed Yelena the key.

She smiled, “Spasibo, Ivan Brestov, you saved our day. We were going to take a trip to see our elderly aunt.”

“How can we thank you,” Irina cried. “It was so kind of you to do this.”

He grinned. “It was nothing. I was happy to do it.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” said Katya, who looked at Yelena, “we should do something. Irina is right. If we took it to the state-owned mechanic shop it would take them weeks!”

Yelena nodded in agreement. “How about sharing dinner with us…” she looked at the two other women, “say Wednesday evening. That’s one night all of us usually get home in time to eat together.”

“Why I would like that very much.” So began Ivan Brestov’s courtship of Irina Derevkova.

Ivan took Irina everywhere: the parks for picnics on sunny days. He took her to the opera and to the symphony when the weather was bad. He never failed to take her somewhere. They were careful always to include an invitation to Katya and Yelena whenever he got reservations for dinner. Neither one cared for music, so they never went to those types of events. However, Ivan made enough rubles to pay for an occasional dinner out. The sisters were extremely grateful and his popularity with them continued on the rise.

As for sex, he and Irina managed to find time to enjoy each other. Of course, Katya and Yelena never knew the two always left the opera or ballet or symphony after the first act so they could be together alone in his apartment. Ivan’s apartment was far enough away so he and Irina were free to enjoy their time to make love.

Three months after beginning his courtship, Ivan proposed to Irina. She accepted. However, they were careful not to mention this. Ivan wanted to confer with her sisters.

“After all,” he explained, “if they are happy for the two of us, then it is better I ask them for your hand in marriage.”

“Yes, Ivan. It is good idea.” She kissed him. “When?”

“Suppose I take you all out Saturday and ask them then?”

Irina thought a moment, “Yes, I think they will be free. I haven’t heard them talk about any other engagements.”

Ivan took her into his arms, “Irina, I love you and I want this to go right. I want you to be my wife.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it will.”

She was right, of course, as both Katya and Yelena were thrilled that Ivan would be part of the family. He had a good job and could provide for Irina, who also had a good job as the KGB’s rising cryptologist. Of course, KGB would want to know more about this teacher. They would investigate his background thoroughly, although Ivan told the sisters he had no family left. They had disappeared in Stalin’s last purge. He was essentially an orphan and had been raised by the state.

He was right, of course. There was no information other than the names of his parents who were driven into a gulag a year or so after he was born. They put him into a state-run orphanage. He had ability for math. He was sent to a better school than was usually provided for children whose parents had been sent away in disgrace.

Finally, they sent him to Irkutsk’s University where he graduated at the top of his class in mathematics and aeronautics. He remained at the University, working on projects sent to them. A party member, Ivan was solid with the hierarchy. He attended meetings and rallies. He caused no trouble and when the KGB investigated, they found he was well liked and extremely reliable.

Eventually, Irina was given permission to marry the solid young communist who was now a teacher in the University. He was not allowed to work on secret projects or be near any of the sites where rockets and fuels were tested due to his background as the son of dissidents who were purged by Stalin. However, he taught young men and women who were on their way to being engineers, which the Party needed in ever-increasing numbers.

They were married in a civil ceremony at City Hall. Katya and Yelena stood for Irina. Ivan asked his department head and friend, Leon Gorskiy, to stand for him. The ceremony took less than five minutes. A photographer took their picture together and one alone. The wedding party retired to a restaurant Ivan picked for the celebration. A lot of vodka was drank in toasts, but it did break up in the late afternoon. Irina and Ivan retired to his apartment to begin their married life. (8-2-06)

TBC :shamefullyembarrased:


Jan 22, 2003
So. California

Irina moved in with Ivan. She didn’t have much, but clothes and a few things her mother left her. Katya and Yelena helped her and gave the couple a beautiful tea set. It was their grandmother’s old set. Since Irina was the first to get married, she got sole possession of it as their grandmother had wished. Each sister also gave Irina and Jack a set of sheets for the bed,

Ivan carried Irina over the threshold and set her down. His hands slid down her hips and to her buttocks. “I love you, moya milochka.” His mouth closed over hers and they stood together kissing. Then Ivan swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. “After I finish making love to you all night, I am going to ask for a bigger apartment.”
He kissed her as he began removing her clothes piece by piece until she stood naked. She in turn did the same until he was equally so.

“Turn around slowly,” he ordered softly.

She pirouetted slowly as he drank in her beauty. She was gorgeous. He knew her height off put some men, but not him. He was one lucky son of a bitch. He ran the back of his let hand down her back, feeling the smooth silky skin. He leaned in and kissed both shoulders, rose up to sniff her hair that cascaded down her back. It was a luxurious dark chestnut brown with hints of auburn.

Irina said, “Do you like what you see?”

“Da,” he breathed softly.

“Turn around, sweetheart; I want to see you also.”

He grinned and did as she asked. He felt her hands on his back and it caused him to have a pleasurable shudder. He turned to face her. She was licking her lips as she explored his hairy chest. Irina leaned in to kiss his nipples. He gave a short moan. She was learning what made him happy—what turned him on. Ivan found out quickly what made her scream with pleasure.

“Irina, get into bed. I have in mind long night of absolute pleasure—for us both.”

The days passed quickly for the two lovers. They worked. They played. They made love almost every night at least for the first week or two. Then their nightly lovemaking had to decrease, as both were showing up at work exhausted. Irina’s supervisor set his foot down and told her he would send to the nearest gulag if she didn’t settle down. Her work was beginning to be less than he expected.

Ivan in the meantime had fallen asleep during a test he administered and to his embarrassment woke up to find the classroom empty and the test papers stacked neatly underneath his folded arms. He was visited by one of the administrators later on that day and told to shape up. Leon Gorskiy told him to cut down on the extracurricular activity at home or they, the University, would send him packing to Irkutsk without Irina.

Both agreed they had to stop having so much sex. Neither wanted to lose the other and they knew the State would have no qualms about sending one or the other off to an assignment other than Moscow.

“Ivan, sweetheart,” Irina was setting the table for dinner, “as much as I love you frackin me, we have to slow down.”

Ivan reached up and kissed her on the cheek. “Da, I know.” He sighed. “It will be hard because I think of you often and I want to have sex almost immediately upon seeing you.”

“Ivan, I too am sorry, but we have to slow down. My work is suffering and I don’t want Nicholai on my back and giving bad reports on my job rating. I could end up in the Urals or even in Siberia…without you. ”

“I know…let us use our spare time finding new apartment.” He grinned.


They did find another apartment with the help of Irina’s KGB connections. It was three blocks from their current place…and on the second floor overlooking the street. It had two windows facing the street, a single large bedroom with a bathroom. The living area was open with a large sitting/living room area. The dining table sat in the space that was in front of the kitchen.

Irina was delighted. Ivan was impressed by their incredible luck.

“Who did you say gave you the tip?” Ivan asked, staring at the empty apartment.


Ivan swung to face her. “Nicholai? There were no strings, milochka?”

“No, I swear.” She pulled his head toward her. “There were none.”

Ivan stood looking at her; then he smiled. “Very well. I say we are lucky. We take it and move in tonight and tomorrow.”

“We need help!” Irina looked around. “But first I scrub the kitchen and bath.”

He nodded. “We have to buy a bed and mattress.” Ivan was practical. “We shop for that first. We can buy at GUM and they will bring it here. I’ll get Leon to help with the heavy things.”

Since the apartment they were in was furnished, they were forced to buy furniture as well as other items for the new one. They had very little of their own. It took time, but they added a sofa that someone was replacing. After much discussion, they decided to place it against the wall next to the door. It had the advantage of one of their windows at the far end. Both decided they would wait until they had saved more rubles to buy a chair. Things were better in Russia, but not all that much.

After the bed, they purchased a table with four chairs, which they placed in the area that might be called a doorway to the kitchen. Putting the table there made it possible to divide the large room. Irina who attempted to cook, felt more comfortable with the table and chairs there behind her as she worked at the counter and sink.

They lived out of boxes as they slowly found the furniture they wanted. They were in no hurry and they needed to save rubles for purchases. Both made a reasonable salary for their work, so they existed on cheaper cuts of meat and fish; they bought vegetables at the farmers markets, traveling some days far out into the countryside to visit communes for them. On those occasions, Katya and Yelena went with the couple.

Ivan and Irina were like any other struggling Russian couple trying to make a life for themselves in their country, with one exception. Ivan was not Russian. He was an undercover spy…for the United States.

When they first were married and living together as husband and wife, both continued working at their respective jobs. Irina went to work with her two sisters everyday. Ivan took the Metro to the university and back home, walking home the last four blocks.

Every morning on his way to the Metro, Ivan purchased a pastry, which he ate before entering the subway. He deposited the pastry wrap in a receptacle. Some afternoons when he left the University at four, he went back to the bakery shop and purchased bread for their meals. He was aware that the KGB sent an agent to follow him, but he kept his routine the same day in and day out until one day about six months after they married, he no longer had a shadow.

Seven months after Irina and Ivan married, he began photographing the contents of her briefcase, usually after they made love. The miniature camera produced a great deal of information. Ivan never did it every time, but slowly but surely, he was supplying the CIA with cryptic codes she had in her possession. The miniature roll of film was carefully wrapped in the pastry paper and deposited in the trashcan, which was immediately picked up by the woman in charge of emptying the trash at that particular metro station.

It traveled to another dead drop where the woman, who removed the paper before dumping the trash in a larger container, handed it off to an agent who was pushing a broom. She dropped it in the path of the sweeper, who picked it up disgustedly and shoved it into her pocket. An hour later, the film was at the American Embassy being processed.

One year after they were married, Irina told Ivan she was pregnant. He was overjoyed and they made passionate love, but only after she said the doctor approved their having sex up until about the eighth month.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Irina.” Ivan whispered. He leaned over and kissed her. “You mean more than life itself…and now we’re going to have a baby. What do you want?”

“A girl.”

He looked disappointed. “Not a boy?”

She put one hand up against his cheek, “Moya milochka, either will be fine.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “We will be the best parents ever.”

He grinned, taking her hand in his. “Yes, we will be the best.”

She fell asleep. He left their bed, went to her briefcase, and photographed the contents. Future father or not, he still had the job to do.

A month later, Irina was in the throes of morning sickness, which put stress on their relationship. Ivan went with her to the doctor who informed them both they must wait it out, as it would end in a couple of months. It was natural for women to be sick, but also somewhat bitchy. Ivan sighed and told Irina he would do his best not to punish her for bitchiness. He had a grin on his face when he said it and she laughed a little.

When he went to the pastry shop the next day, he picked up the pastry, chatting with the owner for a few minutes, then left. At the trash barrel, he found the women waiting for him. She motioned for him to give her the trash in his hand as she emptied the can a moment before. When he handed it to her, he felt something in his palm, which he closed tight. He read the note after putting it in his briefcase. He had a new assignment.

That night in bed, he told Irina he was being allowed to attend an aeronautical seminar in Sweden. He would be gone no longer than two nights. Irina was surprised he would not take time to visit Sweden or at least the city where he stayed for the lectures.

“I cannot. You would be on my mind constantly. I will do my part and then leave. The KGB will no doubt be my constant companion,” he added.

She nodded. “Da!” She knew too well the workings of the agency and its paranoia in dealing with travelers from Russia to the outside world. She was disappointed though because he would go where she never could go. A cryptologist was almost constantly locked to a desk in their department, depending on the communications department to relay the necessary data and codes to her desk or those of her peers.

She sighed, “Will they allow you to take pictures?” She would love to see a different country’s architecture, people, and countryside.

“I will ask, milochka,” he whispered, holding her close. His right hand rested comfortably on her belly, which was beginning pooch.

True to his word, Ivan was gone only two nights. He returned late on the third day. Irina borrowed Yelena’s car to pick him up at the airport. Only October, Moscow was already experiencing chilly weather. There was one snowstorm, but the white disappeared after a couple of days.

They embraced. Ivan handed Irina a gift…a box of Swedish chocolates. Her face broke into a sunny smile. “Welcome home, Ivan.” She kissed him excitedly. “Can I have some now?”

He laughed. “Wait until we get home.”

As they left the terminal, a boy outside was selling Pravda newspapers. A headline jumped out at them…‘Russian Brutally Murdered’. However, neither paid any attention to it. They were too happy being together again.

When Irina entered her seventh month, Ivan was told to attend a conference being held in Paris. It was an international conference on aeronautics and missiles…several American scientists would be present. There was great interest to hear what they had to say about the development of space shuttles and when they would be ready to launch.

“Sorry, Irina, but I will be back in three nights. I promise.”

“Ivan, it is fine. I will be all right.” She poured him another cup of tea. She looked awkward nowadays, but the baby was growing.

That night, Ivan thrilled to the touch of her abdomen, especially when the baby kicked. He was so solicitous about her that he wanted to take her to work, but Irina told him she was quite able to get to work and she didn’t need coddling. She was perfectly capable of walking the few steps into the communications department. Besides, Katya and Yelena were with her to and from work. She had plenty of protection and care if it was needed. He finally agreed, but if anything happened, she was to get in touch with him immediately.

“I promise,” she whispered. “Make love to me tonight?”

He pulled her close and began kissing her gently on the lips, moving to her chin and jaw.
She spread her legs and reached down to tug at his penis. He moved out of her reach when he started to suck at her left breast while tweaking her right one. Then he switched to the right, his mouth covering her breast, both of which were beginning to swell even larger. As he sucked, he stroked her inner thighs with feather-like touches. She gasped.

“Oh boje,” she whispered her eyes shut. She let her body respond to his touch and he grunted with the pleasure he had at being her lover.

His mouth worked its way down the swollen belly and he muttered soft comfort words to the resident inside, apologizing for the way he or she would feel in a few minutes when mom would enjoy the explosive orgasm dad was about to give to her. His hand now occupied itself in the labia and fingers move softly about, stroking up and down. He pushed two fingers inside and she groaned with pleasure.

Ivan kneeled beside her stroking her a bit faster. She was gasping. He added a third finger and she groaned again. His other hand began tweaking and playing with her clitoris.

“Go deeper,” she hissed, perspiring with heat of her passion.

“Da,” he answered and did so. His three fingers jammed into the canal hard. The canal was bigger now that she was getting closer to birthing. She gasped. He moved them in and out, faster and faster. She was screaming with pleasure. Suddenly Ivan bent down and grasped her clitoris with his mouth, sucking it hard in and out.

She bucked as the orgasm hit. He pushed the fingers in again hard. She screamed. He sucked harder at her clit and jammed his fingers down once more. Irina exploded up, almost leaving the bed. Holding the fingers inside her as she bucked, he moved his mouth to hers, kissing her hard.

The orgasm didn’t want to quit, at least to her. Irina felt every nerve in her body respond to his actions. It was as if it were on automatic recall for all the orgasms she had while married and there were plenty. Ivan withdrew, his hand wet, from her vulva.

“Satisfied,” he whispered.

“Totally,” she answered a huge smile on her face. “Now…you!” She made him lie on his back, reaching for his penis, which under the circumstances was already hard. Without hesitation, kneeling beside him, she took it in her mouth while her hands manipulated his testicles…a first softly, then faster, and harder. It took less than two minutes for him to cum. He groaned with pleasure as the orgasm took him over the edge.

Ivan left for Paris the next day, accompanied by a KGB agent whom he knew. The man was a drunk. He would drink a bottle of vodka and be out by eight in the evening. Ivan was delighted. It gave him time to do the job assigned to him by the agency. There was a particularly nasty Russian agent in Paris, who needed removal. He’d been a thorn in the side of the CIA far too long. The assignment came as it did before, from the woman who emptied the trash barrel near the Metro Station.

The next morning Ivan attended the seminar with a very hung-over KGB friend. Ivan promised Anton he would not tell anyone about his drinking. Anton thought Ivan a good man. He was diligent during the day, but when the conference was over, he went to his room with another bottle of vodka. Ivan wondered what condition the man’s liver was in—still he knew Anton never got this expensive vodka at home.

The next day in government-owned Pravda and Izvetsia, was a story about the killing of a Russian national in Paris. He’d been found with his throat slit in an alley behind a brothel. The Paris police had no clues. They did notify the Russian Embassy the man was a customer of the brothel.

They interviewed the woman who he saw, but she could throw no light on what happened. According to her, he left her room around midnight. No one saw anything. The KGB was angry, but had no choice than to accept the findings of the Paris police. Even Interpol could find no evidence leading to the killer. It was the second such killing during the year. Valuable agents, both men, but now they were dead.

Ya tebya lyublyu - I love you
milochka - darling
boje - god

TBC - :mad:
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