The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

“Man, oh man, work is going to suck tomorrow,” said Blaine, squeezing in beside Nikita and Chang. “Shift over, guys,” he said, shuffling over, forcing Chang firmly against Nikita. He could smell the tobacco and perfume in her hair and could think of little else.

“Maybe there’s nothing in Sykes’ theory and we’re golden,” said Chang, resting her hand on her leg so that her little finger was nearly touching Nikita’s.

Blaine laughed. “He’s never wrong is the problem. Made us look like idiots in there today!”

Nikita chuckled, but his thoughts were focused entirely on his little finger which he shifted slowly and as subtly as he could towards Chang’s. He felt drunk and reckless.

The taxi drove out of town. As it passed through the crossroads Nikita had stopped at earlier, he saw that another diagonal stripe had been struck across his own on the mailbox. X marks the spot, he thought hazily, and despite his drink-infused brain he found his mind drifting to what his next step was. He was brought suddenly back into the present at the faintest of touches to his little finger as Chang’s finger had moved to touching his.

Blaine was talking in almost a monologue about how much better the cocktails were in New York, but now Nikita moved his finger on top of Chang’s, and they interlocked. He could almost feel the tension crackling between them, while Blaine talked on, completely unaware.

Ten minutes later the cab pulled up outside Blaine’s apartment building and he got out, and threw them ten bucks for the cab before ambling his way up the path. The taxi pulled away and now the tension between them was palpable.

They were now holding hands fully and Nikita chanced a glance at Chang and found that she was already looking at him. Her stern face was softer than he’d seen it before and her eyes wide.

He leant in, but hesitated halfway, a moment of soberness in a night lost in a mist of whiskey and cocktails. But before he could pull back, she had grabbed his head with both hands and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him deeply and passionately and all other thoughts of consequences drifted away. She tasted of cigarettes and vodka, a heady combination for any Russian, even one such as Nikita.

He didn’t remember leaving the cab or the walk up to her house. He remembered kissing her deeply against her front door before she fumbled with keys and they fell inside.

They lay for a moment on the floor, facing each other with their feet still outside the front door. She pulled him to her once more and they continued kissing.

In his drunken state he suddenly became aware that they were there for the world to see. “Let’s go inside,” he whispered. “You never know who’s watching in this town.”

She smiled as he helped her up and he kicked the front door shut behind them. He kissed her hungrily once more before picking her up and carrying her into her bedroom.

When Nikita awoke the next morning it was still early, and it took him a minute to adjust his eyes to the gloom, feeling momentarily disorientated. He felt Sarah’s arm across his torso and patchy memories of the night began to flow stutteringly back to him. Suddenly he became very aware that he was naked, and by the feel of her body against his, so was she.

Unfortunately, his upbringing in Russia had not helped him to be able to drink like one and his head felt like it had been split down the middle.

He pulled himself silently up and out of the bed, careful not to wake her. She stirred slightly but drifted back off to sleep as he picked up his clothes from the floor and went out into the living room where he dressed as quietly as he could. He ran some cold water from the tap in the kitchen and splashed it on his face before turning to leave.

He was at the front door when a voice behind him said, “You’re not quite sprinting out the door but it ain’t far off.”

Nikita sighed and turned. Sarah was leaning against the door frame across the room, a bedsheet pulled roughly around her. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes squinted in the light. Despite her looking beautiful, Nikita suddenly wished the night before had never happened. She lit a cigarette and the feeling was reinforced.

“No, no, I just need to get home to change before work,” he replied. He walked over to her.

“Don’t make me regret fucking you, Jake,” she said, lifting her head and blowing the smoke to the side.

He fought his instincts and pulled her to him kissing her on the lips. She hesitated then put her arms around him and kissed him back. The sheet fell to the ground and he could feel her firm breasts pressed against his chest and the feelings that had brought him here the night before began to stir slightly. The desire to crawl back into bed with her and rest his aching head grew stronger. But he knew duty called, and he could not miss work at such a crucial time.

He unfurled her arms from around him and admired her slender naked body before him. “I have to go,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in the office.”

“Don’t make it weird at work,” she said in her semi-confrontational way.

“Of course not,” he said, winking at her and leaving.

As the door shut behind him, he groaned to himself. He needed to find a way of relieving tension without being reckless with people’s hearts… or his own liver. He couldn’t risk compromising his ability to do his job exceptionally. He could feel himself becoming too comfortable with his life as Jacob Marshall. The life of an ordinary guy with