Cat and Mouse

"That is true," he agreed, "but his main work is with Naval Intelligence. Has been his entire career."

Her mouth came open. "I don't believe it. He's brought back souvenirs from every trip for the kids, brought me jewelry before his sex drive went into neutral."

"Trust me, I know. Like a good intelligence officer, he keeps those close to him completely in the dark about his activities, and provides evidence for his cover stories. He's been with them since he was twenty three."

"How do you know so much? Who do you work for?"

"It's a complicated story, but right now I'm on a mission from God. When I was young, he was one of my. . .competition."

Her head shook back and forth several times. He took her elbow and they began to walk along the pier. The gulls floated lazily nearby and the traffic processed slowly on the downtown Baltimore streets. She looked at him curiously. "What are you, Neil, a Russian?" He nodded his head gravely. "You don't sound like a Russian."

"Thank you, Shelley. I spent many long years practicing my American English to perfect my Midwest accent. America has always been one of my favorite places, especially this area and the Midwest, where I pretended to come from. But I'm a just small town boy from a little village near Omsk"

Her jaw dropped and her mouth hung opened for several moments before she could speak again. "What, are you KGB?"

He paused. "I was. Used to be. Came here many times on espionage missions. Your husband tried to catch me."

"How do you know?"

"We had a mole."

"And those young people? The two at the restaurant and my chauffeur? Are they agents."

A chuckle. "No. The boys are seminarians, Katya is Vladi's fiancee. They are bright, talented, and I trust them completely."

They crossed a street and moved down a couple of city blocks, heading toward the old Cathedral church. The new revelations spun through Shelley's mind as they walked, dampening her desire. Neil focused on his breathing, waiting for her to catch up so he could move on with his seduction.

"You never told me what you did for a living, exactly," she said at last. "You told me you worked for the Church."

"That is true. Although I could have been lying to feed your favorite fantasy."

"Huh?"

"You loved my stories about Rasputin: the cleric/seducer. Sex with a man in a cassock; you told me about your fantasy many, many times when we wrote."

"Oh yes, my fantasy of seducing a priest. I had this great crush on my pastor when I was a girl. Always dreamed of cornering him in confession and sucking his cock until he couldn't stand it any longer."

"But it never came true."

"No," she said softly. "Never. No priest was ever interested in me that way."

He gave a soft chuckle. "What," she demanded, "what does that mean. You're not as nice as I thought you were if that's funny, buster."

"Did you ever figure out what I did for a living?"

A long moment as they paused for another light. "You're a priest?" she asked at last.

"More than that. A bishop."

Her jaw dropped. "You? A bishop? How?"

He took a deep breath. "I was recruited for the KGB from the seminary in Moscow. They had several priests who were spies, and some of them went overseas. I went to a lot of ecumenical conferences, and didn't sleep at night. When the Soviet Union fell, I lost one of my jobs as the KGB downsized."

"So they made you a bishop?"

"Not directly. I had to earn it the hard way. But I had an advantage: in the Russian Orthodox Church, priests can be married but Bishops can't. I never married, so I was one of the few men available."

"Where are you a bishop?"

"Omsk. I'm the Bishop of Western Siberia."

They turned short of the Cathedral, and moved to an area where several hotels were located. "I know, it's tough to believe," he continued. "When I'm on vacation, I go incognito. When I met you online and found out who you were, I got very nervous when I suspected your husband was reading your e-mail. Anyway, with my past, I can't take chances. When you didn't seem to want to talk from where it was safe, I had to let you go. This was just a shot in the dark"

She paused for several minutes while they walked. "How could you write those stories?" she said at last. "They're so, so, so, stimulating."

He chuckled. "Well, I need to get it out of my system somehow. Celibacy is fine, but getting time off for good behavior is tough."

Shelley laughed and relaxed. "I always wondered. You were so smart about church stuff, and so kind to me when I was going through problems."

Neil shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard to let go of the compassion thing."

Pulling him by the shoulder, she stopped them. "What's your real name?"

"Neil is good enough. I usually went by it while I was here. In some ways, Neil Dumbrowski is the real me as any other name I've ever used."

They stopped for another light. "Well, where do we go now?"

"That's entirely up to you."

"Huh?"

"Remember Episode 11 of The Erotic Adventures of Rasputin?"

"Yes. Tatiana enters Rasputin's apartment. She closes the door and he orders her to take off her clothes and kneel. At first, she's reluctant, but she complies with his wishes and kneels naked before him in the middle of the floor. Then Rasputin approaches her and raises his cassock to reveal his erection. He gazes into her eyes, and almost hypnotically she opens her mouth to take him. Her eyes close and her face takes on a dreamy and translucent aspect as her mouth tightens into a silken vise. It's not long before monastic semen courses through her mouth and down her throat.

"Then he lays her on the bed, and begins licking her feet, savoring her instep first," she said, her voice growing husky. Beads of sweat began to appear on her brow, and her breathing became quicker. "His hands massage her feet as he makes his moist journey upward, lingering on her ankle, the soft inside of her knee, her creamy thigh, before settling on the dark bud, teasing it until the bed shakes and shivers until it falls in.

"Then his cassock comes off," she continued, "he continues his journey upward as she reaches out to embrace his dear pastoral staff. He lingers on her nipple; she gasps and holds him there with one hand while the other is encouraging his resurrected rigidity. . ."

Neil stopped and put a card in Shelley's hand. "If you want this dream, go to this room. Give me a few moments, then slip this in the slot to open the door. If you change your mind, go back home and today will just be a memory. But if you come to this room, I expect you to do everything Tatiana did. Everything. Perhaps more."

He turned on his heal and walked quickly down the street. She watched him, trying to take in everything she had heard that rocked her world. It was getting close to 2:30 in the afternoon, and soon traffic would increase as rush hour approached. As far as her family knew, she was visiting an old college classmate. The man who followed her was still thirty five miles away, and had nothing to report. Neil excited her, thrilled her as he did through his stories, made her damp as he did with the many e-mails he sent.

She thought and thought, then followed him to his hotel. A post-it note on the keycard told her where go to. No one saw her as she walked through the lobby and took an elevator to the indicated floor. The hallway was empty except for the housekeeper's cart at the opposite end of the corridor, but the maids were busy and didn't see her. Taking a deep breath, she slipped the card in the slot and saw the light turn green. She turned the handle and entered.

Neil sat there in a simple chair, barefoot, legs crossed, wearing a long cassock. The door closed behind her automatically as she moved lightly and soundlessly into the room. "Take off your clothes, Tatiana, and kneel," he commanded.

Her fingers trembled as they rushed to undo her blouse.