Adventure Across the World Ch. 02

He edged forward and looked over the East wing and what had survived the evident massive explosion. He visually picked his way from exhibits along the far wall that seemed almost untouched to the middle that was just a heap and jumble of debris, to finally the area below and closest to him. His high perch allowed him quite a view.

His heart went cold and stopped. He had noticed that one of the large windows had been blown in and glass fragments littered the piles of debris. What could not be seen, except from his advantageous position above was the long tube directly below him. The tube was split open and hundreds of grey green 'tennis balls' could be seen spilt out and pooling on the ground around the tube.

Cluster munitions. Meant to open in the air and spill its deadly content to maim and kill people. These were not meant for building destruction. This was an offensive weapon to kill only one thing...people. Because the munitions had failed to deploy, did not mean that the "tennis balls" were not armed and lethal.

It must have come through the window causing the shattered glass to be inside the building. It had to be deployed after the larger explosion took place. The smaller munitions would have exploded just from the concussive wave of the larger explosion, if they laid there first.

A quandary he was happy to let other people to deal with.

Drew snapped pictures of the munitions on his phone. He was going to have quite the discussion with both the Ministry of Art and the Ministry of Defense for putting his crew in a dangerous position over lies and lazy oversight.

He slowly backed away from the unprotected edge of the mezzanine hoping that nothing would dislodge and trigger one of the explosives.

As he turned to slowly leave, he had turned to the open face of the building and froze again. He had found another puzzle piece to the destruction of the Museum.

The mighty hand that had swept up the ornate guardrail became quite evident. A missile lay lodged in nest of tangled ornate metalwork that used to be the guardrail. Drew surmised that it was the brother of the one that made the other 'bullet hole' in the base of the museum dome.

The missiles had hit the dome with such speed to punch holes like monstrous bullets. One exploded with such force that it threw the façade of the building, a distance into the plaza. Huge chunks of carved marble and granite tossed one hundred meters.

One missile had detonated, while its brother lay tangled and deadly, tangled in a web of metal.

Even as he stood, he knew he was not looking at a 'normal' missile. He had seen hundreds of YouTube videos and seen disarmed versions on display at hundreds of local monuments to the invasion and war.

No, this one was different. It was flat bottomed, and the engines were not chemical fueled rockets. While the front of the craft was crumpled in its homemade nest, the rear looking like a miniature jet airplane.

He snapped pictures as quickly as his phone would allow. He was just starting the email process when he heard his Crew much too close. He looked up and froze again, they froze looking at him not ten meters away.

They could see the fear on his face, and he could see they understood something was up. Drew put his finger to his lips for silence. One of the few things that was a human signal no matter the culture. He motioned for them to turn around and follow the path they come from his last movement was pointing outside the building to the plaza.

No one moved.

He then mouthed "NOW! Move!" and Yulia translated as he pointed more stringently out of the building.

Holding hands and with multiple looks over their shoulders, they scurried back around the breezeway, down the curved staircase, through the rotunda and out to the plaza. Drew kept eye contact through their escape. Once he heard the burst of female chatter from the Plaza, he started to breathe again.

He loaded the pictures on his phone and hit the send button. While not a member of the 'Alphabet' organizations, he had several meetings with NSA and the CIA before his deployment to Ukraine as a private contractor. He had been given a contact just in case there was a slight possibility that anything he might get involved with might be of benifit to USA national interest.

'Well, how does a live hypersonic cruise missile grab you for interesting?' he thought to himself as he gingerly walked the same pathways as his ladies to escape potential harm.

He was met with scowls from Yulia and Antonia, and questioning looks from the other two when he made it to the group. The scowls were accompanied by their hands on their hips when he finally made the last 5 or 10 meters. They all started on him at once, both with questions and with comments, mostly in Ukrainian so he would not get how badly they were abusing him.

He held up his hands until everyone hushed. He swore that Yulia was growling at him.

He pulled out his phone, scrolled to the pictures of the cluster bomb and held it out for review. He saw Antonia turn green. She knew exactly what it was, its purpose and he assumed the aftermath of its explosions. She immediately started to rattle off in Ukrainian.

"They did not do a very good job of clearing the building of live munitions." Drew informed the group. Antonia was already describing, in Ukrainian, the potential for mayhem if the accumulated munitions exploded. They would not be safe in either wing until the ordinance was removed.

"When you found me, I was sending pictures of a second missile, the brother to the one that caused this destruction," he commented and waived his hand to all the façade scattered across the plaza.

"It is still up there tangled up in the guardrail on the mezzanine I was standing on. So, before you want to yell at me, it was for your own safety," Drew paused looking at the museum, "We are back to square one and waiting on the ordinance teams." Drew finished quietly and Antonia slid over and wrapped her hand in his arm.

Once translations were complete, and the sheer magnitude of what danger still lay in the building, the Crew enveloped him in a group hug.

*

With frustration boiling over, their walk back to the apartment was full of very vulgar feminine Ukrainian. As with all people that learn a new language, Drew had picked up the naughty words and phrases first. To say that he was getting a street version of those words in stereo or quadraphonics was to say the least entertaining.

The Crew were incredibly agitated and let the security officer at the gate know. He had just shrugged his shoulders and sat down ignoring them. This just set them off even more.

This created quite the scene before he pulled them all away and back towards the apartment and safety. Since it was mid-late afternoon, they stopped at the local pub for a drink and a more calmed version of discussion of 'what's next?'

The local male population was thrilled. Four beautiful young women come strolling in with an old guy. They thought they had hit paydirt. Several of the barflies looked like they were salivating.

Drew gave a small smile. While the approach was a bit different, the male of the species were not that different from here, the UK or America.

"I guess they never got the memo," Drew said aloud catching Darya's and Yulia's attention. Antonia and Tatyana were too busy brushing off the attention of two men that were already at the table and bending trying to whisper in their ears.

"Be careful," Drew commented aloud, "The last man that touched my family without permission almost died by his own gun." Drew had stated it in English, with a soft voice, as he leaned back in his chair.

Drew had slid out the SIG and had it lying beside his leg. His finger was along the slide, but he was ready for trouble as soon as the actions of the aggressors took a turn.

He had heard Darya call out about something, but his focus was tunneled. Tunneled through the two assholes already touching and harassing his girls to the other two at the bar. He had tensed his shoulders and knew the minute the other two got up from the bar that it would get real, fast.

He saw Asshole Three at the bar make his move. He slid from the bar with his eyes drilling into his Crew. Before Drew could bring his weapon above tabletop, his arm was grabbed, and another went around him and into his open shirt against his bare chest.

His head had been shoved forward by something soft but firm and he could smell a lovely smell of fruit from the body.

Sasha, the owner, and proprietor of the bar was holding him still, while quietly barking orders in a gravelly Ukrainian. The interlopers stopped their 'flirting' and listened to her harangue. There was a brief reply that ended in her pointing towards the door. Asshole Two grabbed his coat and stormed off. The other two held up their hands in defeat and went back to their seats at the bar.

Drew noticed Asshole Four had never gotten up but watched everything with the eyes of a predator. Drew knew the look. Another universal item added to the list. While the others were jackals picking food off a dead carcass, Asshole Four had a distinctive look.

He had the eyes of a timber wolf, alpha predator. Drew would keep an eye out for him in the future.

Drew felt fingers running through his chest hair. While he usually groomed it short in had gotten longer with his time traveling across the world. Someone liked his pelt.

He tried to look up past the large breasts that pillowed his neck and held his head forward. The Crew started giggle as he politely tried to gain distance. He was pulled back into the valley between the large breasts.

Sasha continued to talk in a lovely soft feminine voice to the Crew. To his girls, Sasha shifted to a feminine voice, unlike the bar bouncer voice she had used against the miscreants. She continued to stroke and play with the hairs on his chest. All of which had started give him, a raging hardon.

Drew had to admit the Russian slang term 'babushka' was used to mean an older woman or more technically 'Grandmother'. It is a bit understandable for foreigners to get the adage wrong. Work on a farm or out in the open weathers the skin and face of people.

But here in the city it was used as a derogatory slang for any older female. It was what asshole called Sasha as he stormed through the door. Sasha was quite a beautiful woman for her age, Drew noted. The asshole was just trying to be rude and a dick.

Soon Drew was released, and he quietly slid the weapon back in his soft hip holster. Sasha sat in the seat next to him. Her body was turned 90 degrees to his and she slid forward opening her legs and letting her skirt slide up and open. Her right hand on his leg and her left played with his grey hair at his neckline. She leaned forward and whispered in broken heavily accented English into his ear.

"I am sorry, for my son to cause you such...pain. He was a good boy but started to be with...bad people as the war came. With my husband lost to the Russians, he has gotten worse. Please forgive him and do not think bad of me." Sasha whispered and then kissed his cheek. Then it clicked within Drew's mind on who Asshole Two was.

Drew blushed and turned his head and Sasha leaned back to provide 'proper' clear space.

"There is nothing to forgive," Drew responded, "and I would never find fault in you."

"Then come back at closing and we will share a drink and talk," she whispered again and then winked. Another universal signal. Sasha slowly rose from her chair leaning forward and almost burying Drew's face in her cleavage. She turned with another wink and sauntered off.

All of this was not done in a bubble. The Crew had remained quiet and watched the soap opera until he blushed six shades of pink. They exploded in laughter as they watched his reaction and Sasha's look over her shoulder to them. The swish of her hips was exaggerated for his benefit, embarrassment, or both.

They returned home to the two sisters and a rambunctious 4 years old.

*

Over time, the Crew had taken to certain habits. Their comfortable dress pattern evolved over time. Somehow all his t-shirts became community property. Admittedly, Drew had an interesting selection. Not band t-shirts but an odd assortment that went from political commentary to plain 'not to be worn in public' style.

It became a norm for the ladies to change out of their utilities, and shower in one of the multiple bathrooms. Then all the women would walk out in one of his t-shirts and lycra shorts or just panties. Yulia was the most conservative, well except for the two ladies from Africa. They were always full sleeves and long pants.

The twins on the other hand were shameless.

Tatyana and Darya would start to strip before they dropped their bags at their desks. Always with the sport bras, but the shift to panties was hard on Drew. He really wanted to keep a professional air to the office portion but on work-in days he had lots of female flesh to keep him looking.

His decorated t-shirts never looked so good. Then, as the temperatures cooled heading to Fall, his cotton sleeping shorts were repurposed. So, Drew had to finally sit them down and make an Amazon order to be delivered to the Polish office.

*

Later, after the altercation in the bar and when the youngster was deep asleep, Antonia had made her trip to the upper floor. She was straddling Drew. This was not a romantic night, she was on a mission to get him to cum. She had already had two orgasms and was on her way to number three. He was just enjoying the show.

When three hit it was a silent one, unlike her other two. Drew could tell it was a strong one, based on how strong her velvet pussy grabbed him, by the flow of her essence onto his cock and the pain of her nails on his shoulders. She collapsed forward and kissed him softly, not what he was expecting.

He felt her shift but slide her legs underneath him. As they shifted to their sides, she wrapped him in her legs and kept him inside, in fact, she wiggled down until he was fully seated.

She softly kissed him again and looked in his eyes.

"You must go to Sasha tonight." She stated and paused.

Drew was confused. Here he was buried deep inside a beautiful younger woman and coated in her female essence. It screwed with his mind, to say the least.

"Why?" he responded completely confused.

"She will be an amazing...friend...no more... a 'comrade' in our work and us living here." She paused to kiss his nose, one of his own little affectations, "The hate...gossip about me has ended because of her. She is 'mother' to hundreds that have lost loved ones."

Drew just looked stone faced and incredibly confused.

Antonia twisted and turned them over to him on his back. His now limp cock slipped free but was smothered by the lips of her still engorged sex. She started to lightly slide back and forth on him.

"You Westerners do not appreciate European understandings. While I love the attention you have lavished on my precious son and me, I do not own you." She paused for a second to grind a little harder and give out a soft moan.

"We are short on good men around here. We Ukrainian women understand how to share resources. There are others in your household that you need to share with too." She paused letting that sink in.

"Sasha is the 'queen's jewel' to our work here. She is a good woman that has connections across the city. She is well respected as a businessperson and has business interests beyond her small pub. Who do you think owns part of the warehouses that now store our antiquities? And why are they safe?" Antonia smiled and finished, "Because of her."

"She's mobbed up?" Drew asked astounded and a bit bewildered.

It took a moment for Antonia to translate the slang in her head before she slapped Drew's shoulder.

"This is not an American movie my lover. She just...knows people. People that make things happen." She stated as she swung her leg from Drew. He had an amazing view of her gaping pussy before the leg landed on the bed, she spun in mid-air and her ass bounced on the edge of the mattress. With her breasts still oscillating, she was standing looking at him.

"I will shower downstairs. Once you are gone, I will strip the bed and remake it. I made a mess tonight," but she leaned forward and kissed him while running her fingers through his soaked pubis.

"As you Americans say, 'wreck her' and then come back to your little family in the morning." She gave a shy smile, "I know you will treat her right. She has been incredibly good to us girls since we came to you. She knows that you have created a family out of nothing. It confuses the rest of the neighborhood, why a foreign 'muzhik' would come and have us all protected unless it was for sex." She smiled again.

Drew smiled. The derogatory Russian term for old man was 'muzhik.' Drew had recognized that phrase directed at him on several occasions. Drew would just smile. 'I am still the asshole foreigner with a harem of 4 beautiful women...you assholes.' he would tell himself to feel better.

"She knows it is 'Family.' Not a Ukrainian or Russian type of 'Family,' but a good safe home for us young female professionals. She is impressed and wants to find out more."

Antonia came over and leaned over his sweaty, slick body and softy kissed him while smiling the whole time.

"Shower my lover, then go to her and wreck her. Make her your lover like you have made me. When I saw what you had saved us from, in the museum, I gushed into me panties. I wanted to fuck you in the pub if I could have figured a way. When I realized that you had pulled your weapon to protect us, I gushed again. My panties and jeans were soaked."

"Give her that same desire. Make her orgasm over and over. She will be our comrade forever."

"Go shower now my lover, you reek of sex," she commented as she turned grabbed her robe. All Drew could see was her ass and the fluttering red fabric.

*

So, at midnight, after Drew ingested an energy drink (he was 63, and usually went to bed at 10pm and was up at 5am). He sauntered into the Pub across from his apartment. Sasha saw him enter and a huge smile grew on her face. It dropped immediately when she turned to the normal bar flies and started to growl orders. He assumed she told them that the bar was closed.

There seem to be minor whining, but no one dared to confront her orders. As she ushered them out the door, her smile returned. He heard the bolts slam shut and she spun to face him. She walked past him and grabbed his hand and pulled him through the kitchen. They traveled up the back stairs to the second floor through the door that led to her apartment.

Drew was a bit shocked at what he saw. The lower floor would be described as an American dive bar. Nothing fancy other than lighted alcohol advertisements and ancient WW2 Soviet nationalistic posters hung as a joke.

Sasha's apartment was the opposite. It was full of ornate antiques, plush fabrics and had an overall feminine feel. Drew just smiled and kept any comments to himself.

Still having a hold on his hand, she led him through the living room. And a turned into a short hallway that held a doorway to a guest bedroom, then bathroom and finally her room...it seemed. The room was not huge and lavish like an American McBedroom, like at his apartment. It was tasteful, utilitarian, and feminine like the living room.

She turned to him, put her arms around his neck and softly kissed him. There was no hesitation on her part. As they parted slightly, he could see her hands moving unbuttoning her dress. She shrugged her shoulders and the dress parted and slid to the ground. She wore what he expected to see from the owner of a bar, utilitarian bra, and panties. Not a bit of lace or shear panels to be seen.