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The Interpeter

By: komrad1156



*Note to readers: This is the second story I've written which has nothing to do with my own life. The first was Live Free or Die. All of my other stories are based on personal experiences. 





I work as an aeronautical engineer on a Navy base in Virginia supporting the F-18 Super Hornet. As such, I've had the opportunity to meet many fighter pilots. Most are Navy officers. A few have been Marines. I got the idea for this story after talking to a Marine Corps officer who is an F-18 pilot and also a Russian Foreign Area Officer or FAO for short. I took a year of Russian in college, so I found his FAO experiences fascinating. I spent several hours over the course of two weeks picking his brain about his career, his experience with language acquisition, and several other areas which made writing this possible. I won't share his name for obvious reasons, but I am indebted to him for providing me with the detail needed to write this story.

This is the tale of a retired Marine Corps officer who was an F-18 pilot and a Russian Foreign Area Officer or FAO and a beautiful young Ukrainian girl who fall in love while she is serving as an interpreter for someone else. The themes are May-December romance and a combination of threesomes and a mild form of cuckolding.

I enjoy providing background for the stories whether real or like this one, imagined, even more than the sex scenes (and I have a lot of fun writing those.) So if my writing seems 'wordy' to you, sorry, but that's not something that's going to change. I don't care for stories where the central characters are living out their fantasies in two or three pages without providing some plausible reason how it all came to pass. If you do, you probably won't care for my writing style. 

I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 1

"So what's next for you, Ivan? You got a civil service job lined up?"

"I don't know, general," Keith told him. "The only reason I'm retiring at all is because the Marine Corps won't let a colonel stay past thirty." Keith Langston was a 54-year old F-18 pilot who'd joined the Marine Corps right out of college. Well, it was actually out of graduate school as he'd enjoyed engineering so much he decided to stay and finish a master's program after getting his BS. He wanted to work for Northrup-Grumman or one of the big aviation contractors and he felt like the more education he had, the better his chances would be. 

He was less than six months from graduating and from turning 24 when he'd started sending out resumes and doing some serious networking with the contacts he'd made in the engineering department while at Ohio State University. Keith was as smart as they came and he was not only above average in intelligence but in pretty much every other area of his life. He was 6'2" tall and an even 200 pounds of what his best friend, Charlie Sikes, liked to call "twisted steel and sex appeal." When Keith wasn't studying, he was in the gym lifting. It was a passion he developed in high school where he wrestled and played football. He was easily in as good shape and as ripped as any of the guys on WVU's football team and hands-down smarter than all of them.

This Saturday morning, he was in the middle of a killer leg workout—his favorite routine—when he saw one of the regulars he knew come in with someone he hadn't seen before. The new guy looked to be about Keith's age or maybe a few years older and while he wasn't as tall he was definitely just as cut. He watched the two of them work their way through a grueling back workout as he finished his own. 

On the way out, his acquaintance called, "Hey Keith! You got a minute?" 

Langston stopped and turned toward the familiar voice. "For you, Swanson, I can give you two minutes. How's it goin'?"

"Great, man. How about you?"

"Same old, you know. Who's your friend?"

Keith noticed this guy's hair was cut in a very tight fade and his shave was even closer. Keith Swanson said, "Keith, this is Marine Corps Captain Dave Wilson. He's the Marine Officer Selection Officer or OSO for OSU and a couple of other schools." Keith saw the puzzled look on Langston's face and explained that an OSO is the equivalent of a an enlisted recruiter for officers.

"Oh, okay. Nice to meet you, Dave. I'm Keith," Langston said sticking out his hand.

The Marine stood up and shook hands with Langston. "Likewise, Keith. I saw you doing squats. Holy shit, I thought I could move some iron but that was outstanding."

"Thanks. I had a pretty good day today. So you're essentially a recruiter, huh?" Keith inquired.

"Basically, yes. The big difference is recruiters are looking for guys to enlist to fix airplanes and I'm looking for guys to become commissioned officers and fly them. You have any interest in flying our new jet, the FA-18 Hornet?"

Keith was really caught off guard. The Hornet was his favorite plane having taken over first place from the F-14 Tomcat he'd fallen in love watching Top Gun. "Seriously? You recruit pilots?"

"I do indeed. The Marine Corps will even guarantee you flight school in writing after you finish Officer Candidates School and a follow-on course we call The Basic School or TBS for short."

Keith was more or less used to acronyms from the defense contractors he'd met, but the military was obsessed with them. Acronyms aside, he had to admit he was definitely interested. He'd never really seriously thought about flying planes himself because he loved the engineering aspects of flight so much, but this intrigued him and he agreed to have a beer with Dave after their workout. That conversation led to Keith taking some aptitude tests, a flight physical, and then agreeing to go to OCS after graduation.

Langston breezed through the physically demanding 10-week course and was commissioned a Marine second lieutenant in August of that year. He packed up his gear and headed a few miles out in the woods from the OCS compound to The Basic School which was located near the FBI academy. He completed TBS as an honor graduate from the course then found himself in Pensacola, Florida going through flight school. He was very near the top of his class and felt like he had an excellent shot at getting jets. One thing the OSO hadn't told him was that while he was guaranteed flight school, he was NOT guaranteed jets. He knew there was a chance he could end up flying C-130 transports or even worse—helos. He could imagine himself flying the AH-1J Cobra but trash cans? No thanks. He worked his ass off to make sure he'd have the best chance possible to get into the fixed-wing pipeline then keep his fingers crossed he'd get the specific platform he wanted—Hornets. In the end, his hard work paid off as that's the exactly what he got.

About three months before the end of flight school, he and a couple of friends were out in a local bar called Gilligan's Island having a few beers. A few minutes later a couple of guys and four attractive women showed up and sat at a nearby table. Keith was able to listen in on the conversation and soon understood the guys were airline pilots and the women who were with them were flight attendants. Langston had enjoyed an endless string of girls, hookups, and short periods of dating starting with his senior year in high school and on through college and grad school. He'd never given any thought to settling down and now with a new career in front of him, getting married was the last thing on his mind. Until Kim Miller smiled at him.

Kim was by far the cutest of the four girls sitting with the pilots. One of them was in her 50s and not unattractive for her age, but he wasn't into dating older women. The other two were also very cute, but the brunette with the great smile and sensationally hot body was just freakin' gorgeous! She had long, dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a perfect smile to match an amazingly fit body. Keith smiled back and told the guys, "Shades of Top Gun, guys. She's lost that lovin' feelin'. I can just sense it. Maverick's goin' in." 

His fellow lieutenants noticed the young woman who'd caught his eye and one of them said, "Dude, you better put on an asbestos suit because that chick is smokin' hot!" They wished him luck then started trying to make eye contact with the two other younger girls. Unfortunately for them, their attention was focused intently on the pilot and his co-pilot or as they called him, his "dash two."

Keith stood up and walked over to where Kim was sitting. She looked up at him, smiled, and said, "Yes, I would." 

Langston was caught off guard and took the bait. "You would—what?"

"Yes, I would like a drink. Yes, you may have my number. Yes, I would like to go out with you some time." 

Both of the civilian pilots were listening in and observing the scene and one of them said to Keith, "My friend. I don't know what you've got that no one else has, but that is a first. Many of you Marine wanna-be-pilots and a few who already have their wings have gone hunting this beautiful young creature seated before you and all have gone down in flames. This is the first time I've ever seen Kim doing the hunting. Okay, let's call this trapping, shall we?" He sized Langston up then said, "You might just be strong enough to survive. Even so, do you have a will?" Everyone laughed politely as Langston asked Kim if she'd like to join him at the bar. He offered her his hand which she took while mouthing the words, "He is SO hot!" to the other women at the table. They all giggled and reminded her when they had to be ready to leave as Langston dragged her away.

That drink turned into two which led to a very lengthy conversation and a lot of laughter and finally into an all-night fuck fest. That, in turn, led to a brief but intense long-distance relationship and on graduation day from flight school, a proposal. Kim said yes, Langston was flying F-18s, and three months later, they were married in the base chapel at the Marine Corps Air Station, Beaufort, South Carolina where Langston was flying with VMFA-224(AW) which was a squadron within Marine Aircraft Group 31. 

Keith and Kim were not only passionate lovers but best of friends. She gave up her career and followed him around the world when she could and waited for him to come home when she couldn't. For the next twenty-five years they enjoyed a marriage and a friendship most only dreamed of. 

During that time, Langston found himself intrigued by another opportunity he hadn't known ever existed. That was the chance to learn a foreign language at the military's experience in what was called The Foreign Area Officer (FAO) Program. Langston applied for and was selected to learn Russian at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California, followed by a second year at the U.S. Army Russian Institute in Garmisch, Germany, the vacation capitol for US military families in Europe. Gee, what a hardship! But this language training wasn't like the kind he'd taken at OSU where Russian 101 met a graduation requirement. He found himself in class seven hours a day, five days a week then studying 6-8 hours on Saturday and reviewing for Monday's exams and 50 new vocab words plus grammar on Sunday. It was relentless and it was brutal.

Following those two years of intense immersion in the Russian language, Langston served an additional two years as a deputy team chief at the On-Site Inspection Agency where he conducted weapons inspections of the nuclear weapons arsenal in countries of the former Soviet Union. All of this was done under the auspices of the INF and START treaties which restricted the kinds and numbers of nuclear weapons the countries involved could have. Even after he finished this assignment and returned to flying, he kept up his language skills and was known as the best Russian-speaking officer on active duty.

Having spent some 20 years flying jets and nearly five doing FAO things, Langston found himself promoted to the rank of colonel and in command of the aircraft group in Beaufort, SC, where he started out. It was here, on this third tour in Beaufort, that Kim first noticed a lump in her breast. She didn't even say anything to Keith because she was sure it was nothing. She made an appointment with their doctor who insisted it be biopsied. A week later, she got a call from the doctor himself. Her blood ran cold when he said, "Kim? I need you to come back in. We have the biopsy report and I'm afraid it isn't good news."

Kim hung up the phone and found her head was spinning. She couldn't think straight. She didn't know what to do. She sat down in an oversized chair, pulled a blanket over herself and cried. 

"Kim? Honey? You okay?" Kim looked up and saw her husband in his flight suit. She was once again struck by how handsome he still was.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I must have dozed off." It was after 7pm and she'd taken the call around noon. That night, she told Keith the news. Initially, he was dumbstruck. Then, in his typical "can-do" way he said, "I don't care what they say, honey. We're gonna beat this. We'll pull out all the stops. Diet, exercise, nutrition, the best doctors. Whatever it takes."

Kim smiled bravely as he took her hand. In her heart she knew things weren't going to be okay and the visit with the doctor the next day confirmed her worst fears. Dr. Hanson was their family practice physician and although he'd already referred Kim to oncology, he was grim as he shared the news. "Kim. I wish I had some good news here but unfortunately, there isn't any. You have stage IV breast cancer and the kind of cancer you have is very aggressive and incredibly resistant to every form of treatment."

Keith stepped and said, "I don't want to hear that, doc. Kim's a fighter and she's gonna beat this thing. I want options. I want..."

Kim interrupted him and asked, "How long do I have, Dr. Hanson?"

Hanson looked at both of them and said, "I'm not a cancer specialist so I can't be sure but I've talked to three friends who are and who reviewed your case for me. They're saying maybe six months. Maybe less. I'm so sorry, Kim. With radiation and chemo you might have up to a year but even so..."

"No. None of that," Kim said firmly. "I'm not going to spend what time I have left sick and vomiting and in bed."

Keith started to insist otherwise and she said, "Keith. I've had 25 years with you. No woman has had a better life. No one has been more loved. But not even you can fix this. And this is not your decision to make. I want to spend every day I can with you while I'm healthy and then we'll do what we have to after that. But no radiation. No chemicals. That decision is mine and it's final."

For the first time in his adult life, Keith Langston broke down and cried. He had never once felt so...helpless. Langston solved problems. He fixed things. But not this time. Ironically, it was Kim comforting him rather than the other way around. She knew that while this was her death sentence, the news was also killing her husband and best friend. She couldn't change the diagnosis but she could be brave for him. She had to be brave. There simply wasn't enough time left to waste on self-pity. There was still life to be lived and every day now counted. Every hour of every day mattered.

Keith gave up command of the flying group the next day along with any shot he had at ever becoming a general. He didn't care. Kim was all that mattered to him. He used every day of the nearly three months of leave time he'd saved up. They spent every minute of the next several weeks together trying to cram another lifetime into them. Sky diving, scuba diving, hang gliding, para sailing, BASE jumping. They played all day and fucked every night like it might be their last time. Kim needed rest but she refused. They did everything a couple could do until Kim grew too weak to continue. She spent her last weeks in a local halfway house with Keith at her side nearly every minute of each day. 

Just before slipping into a coma Kim motioned for him to move closer. "Keith? Honey? I want you to promise me something."

He took her hands in his. "Anything, Kim. Just name it."

She mustered up all the strength she had and whispered, "Promise me you'll marry someone else. Please? You don't do well alone and you're going to need a woman by your side. Promise me."

Langston had no interest in any other woman let alone marrying one, but he couldn't tell her that. There was no time to share feelings or have a discussion. Kim was fading fast and he knew it. "I will, Kimmy. I promise."

Kim managed to smile and say a whispered, "I love you" before her hands and body went limp. Thirty minutes later, his beloved wife took her last breath. For the second and last time in his life, Keith Langston wept.

The day after the funeral he went back to work in his new assignment. He was no longer flying but working at a desk job supporting the flying group. He poured himself into his job. He spent 12 hours a day, six days a week at the office and in what little spare time he had, he was in the gym and then forcing himself to study Russian. Even sleep was his enemy as Kim appeared to him every night. And most of the time she was sick and dying. So he did anything and everything he could to keep his mind off of Kim and away from the bottle which would work against everything he stood for in terms of fitness and nutrition. He allowed himself a beer or two now and then but that was it. Any more and he'd fall into a state of melancholy and depression and want to kill a case. He forced himself to keep up his grueling gym routine which was the one place he still felt normal and almost sane. He lifted with an abandon throwing weight around like he hadn't done since college.

Before he knew it the young adjutant at the Group headquarters came up to him and said, "Colonel Langston, sir? We just got word you're facing mandatory retirement in four months. You have to retire no later than August 1st and we haven't done anything in that regard. Just let me know what I can do to help, okay, sir?"

Langston knew in the back of his mind this was coming. But just four more months? He had no other plans, no other interest. The Marine Corps (and Kim) was his life. He thanked the young lieutenant and told him to put in his retirement date for the latest date possible then returned to the stack of papers on his desk. 

Retirement day rolled around in the blink of an eye and Colonel Langston was honored at a huge parade in which hundreds of Marines passed by for his review. After the parade was over, the Wing Commander, a two-star Marine asked Langston,"So what's next for you, Ivan? You got a civil service job lined up?"

"Ivan" was the call sign he'd been given when he came back from his FAO tour. Prior to that he'd been known as "Giant" in the Hornet community. It was unusual but not unheard of, for a pilot to get a new call sign. Because of Langston's command of the Russian language and his in-country experience, this one just seemed a better fit and his new CO at the time agreed. "Giant" was renamed "Ivan" and that was that.

He told the commanding general who'd just retired him he really didn't know what was next and that was the truth. For the first time in his life he had no plans and no plan to make one. He'd had to decide where to live and Beaufort seemed like as good a place as any. His parents had both passed away and he had no family back in Ohio. So he moved out of government quarters and bought a beautiful home on the water along with a bass boat where he spent quite a bit of time the first few months as civilian trying to sort things out. Never having had kids, he and Kim had built up a very impressive financial portfolio which she would never get to enjoy with him. He spent half a million on the house and still had twice that amount in investments along with the $250,000 he received from Kim's term insurance policy. He'd taken out a million on himself and that amount on hers after his own father passed away leaving his mother to try and get by on social security. In addition, he had a lifetime pension that was worth just north of $75,000 a year and had a very affordable healthcare plan for life. There was no need for him to ever work again unless he wanted to and for now, that just wasn't something he intended to do. Bass fishing, weight lifting, and reading books in Russian were enough to keep him busy. At least for the time being.


The Interpeter



The only downside to his post-retirement life outside of the huge loss of his beloved wife was a first-time lifting injury. A couple of months after retiring, he was in the gym tearing it up on a shoulders and legs day. He was doing seated military presses with 80-pound dumbbells in each hand. On his last rep of the last set he felt something tear in his shoulder. That dumbbell fell out of his hand and hit the rubber mat on the floor so hard it ripped out a large chunk. Langston instinctively knew what happened. He'd torn his rotator cuff. He held his arm tight to his side and managed to drive himself to the emergency room using one hand. Fortunately, he'd given up on manual transmissions in his '40s and didn't have to shift. That was a good thing because he wasn't sure he could even more a gear shift.

The x-rays confirmed the tear and for the next six months, Langston was largely sidelined and then had to come back very slowly. After a year, he was almost there again but knew he'd have to be careful with that shoulder for life. Other than that, he was the epitome of health and fitness.

Six months later, he was browsing through a Russian-language website on line and noticed an advertisement for a Russian dating service. He initially scrolled on by then went back to it and looked through it. It was actually US-based and the majority of women were from Ukraine, not Russia. That was interesting but academic because pretty much everyone in Ukraine still spoke Russian even though Ukrainian had been the official language for some time. Russia was using the language and culture of one area of the country as a pretext for an incursion making that area essentially a war zone.

As he sat there looking at the profiles of all these beautiful, young Ukrainian women, he remembered his promise to Kim and her dying wish. He decided he was might possibly be ready to start dating again and why not in the former Soviet Union? He was fluent in the language and he hadn't had any success dating in the U.S.

He'd signed up for two different dating services and put his best pics on line along with a profile that laid out who he was and what was looking for. In short order, Langston had all kinds of emails from women ranging from 50-65. "Jesus, are you really THAT old?" he said to himself as he looked through another group of women who all said they liked his profile and wanted to meet. He agreed to get together with several of them and a month later, he'd been on half a dozen first dates but never a second. He just couldn't get used to looking at women his own age. Kim always seem so young and so beautiful to him. She was five years his junior but she was also blessed with great genes and she took such good care of herself. That was another reason her death was hard on him. He was absolutely certain she'd outlive him by 10-20 years and the thought of her dying first never once crossed his mind. Of the women he had gone out with, a couple of them were both pleasant and interesting, but he just couldn't generate any interest in women he thought looked more like his mother than a potential wife. Two of them made it clear he could take them home and fuck them but he wasn't sure he could get it up. After all, other than maybe Oedipus, who wanted to fuck his mother?

After one particularly brutally long date with a woman who'd used pictures that were ten years old when she weighed 30 pounds less, he came home and thought maybe he'd give up dating altogether. He was never going to find another Kim so maybe he'd try an escort service. You know, do the "rent-a-beav" thing. At least that way, he would "date" someone who looked like she was under 40 with a body to match. 

As he continued to think about his late wife, it struck him again how she always seemed so young to him. Even into her 40s he still saw her as that young flight attendant at the bar in Pensacola. He'd always prided himself on being a realist but when it came to dating women over 50, he had to admit that reality does indeed bite. 

He was having a very unusual third beer one evening when the thought first occurred to him: what if all he really wanted to was to be able to "see" Kim again? To have "her" live with him and go places together with him? He thought of Kim's hair, her eyes, her body, and the way she dressed. He loved the kinds of things she wore that accented her size-C boobs and tight waist. The sex was great but he hadn't had sex in several years now and that wasn't the thing he missed the most. In fact, for whatever reason, he didn't miss it all that much. Well, until he thought about it. He laughed at the thought because while Kim was alive, he couldn't get enough of her—nor she of him. They often had morning sex, bedtime sex, and whenever possible, quickie sex during lunch. He missed Kim. The smell of her perfume. Her silky brunette hair. Those sexy knit tops and form-fitting sweaters and short skirts and high heels she wore for him that drove him crazy. He wanted _that_ back. But he wasn't delusional. He knew he couldn't have that back. Well, not exactly that anyway. What that understood was he couldn't have her. But there had to be many attractive young women who could be enough like her to make life fun and interesting again. Hell, he might even find one willing to indulge his one and only sexual fantasy of letting him watch her have sex with another man. He'd only ever mentioned it to Kim but never followed up. It was a huge turn on but he never actually asked her to consider doing it. He felt confident she would have indulged him had he pressed the issue, but the timing never seemed right. And then, well, they ran out of time. This go 'round however, he might just get lucky. If he did get lucky then, well, maybe...

Trying to decide what the next best thing might be was the hard part. Langston was a problem solver and he was good at it. But this one involved feelings and emotions rather than hard, cold facts and logic. This one might just be the toughest nut he'd ever have to crack. Especially if he ever hoped to actually get a nut again.

No sooner had he finished his thoughts in that regard than he remembered the Russian dating site. "What the hell?" he thought. "How could that be any worse than dating women your own age who look even older?" He paused for a moment then further thought, "What if you could find a beautiful young girl who looked like Kim and who had the same kind of fun-loving disposition?" Again, there had to be women out there like that but out of that set, what subset would date and marry a man his age? Of those, how many wouldn't just be looking for a green card and then bail on him? Finally, of that very small number, how many would be willing to sign a pre-nup to prove she wasn't after his money? He didn't know, but he decided he had to try and find out. Worst case, he'd end up back home hiring escorts or living alone. 

That night, he found himself laying in bed daydreaming about a beautiful young woman who was like his Kim. He realized that for the first time since Kim's death, he was feeling an old, familiar stirring somewhere just south of the border. As he lay there in bed staring at the ceiling fan spinning 'round and 'round over his head, all he could think of was some unnamed, beautiful young woman in his bed. His musing turned into more serious thoughts and finally into an obsession. The growing problem between his legs was relentless and for the first time since high school, Langston found himself doing what only Kim or before her, some other girl, had done for him since. The release was immense and yet it was far more than just physical. It was also emotional and psychological. It helped him to began solidifying what was up until now just a generic idea. That idea was beginning to take shape and the prospect of bringing it to fruition was energizing. For the first time in years, Keith Langston was excited. For the first time since Kim died he had...purpose.

The following morning, he spent a little more time browsing around several different sites before settling on one that looked interesting. He was initially a little pissed off at how expensive it was but told himself the site had to pay someone to translate letters and chalked it up to the price of doing business. But ten bucks a freakin' email? You've gotta be shittin' me! And no, he'd learned, they would not let him write emails in Russian and not charge him. Capitalists! 

He choose the screen name of Товарищ Иван or Comrade Ivan which allowed him to make use of the call sign he'd been called for many years. He dutifully and honestly answered every question starting with marital status. He felt a twinge as he clicked the box next to the word "widower" then continued until he'd painted a word picture of who he was and what he was looking for less the pre-nuptial agreement. He figured if he ever got close enough to discuss a pre-nup, then she'd be the kind of girl who would sign one.

He uploaded five of the best pictures of himself he could find then clicked "submit." H'd reluctantly had a set taken by a professional when he signed up for the US sites and for a guy his age, he thought he looked pretty good. He'd let his hair grow out from the tight fade he'd worn his entire career on active duty. It was still dark and thick and it seemed to even look better with a little length to it. Kim always loved his Jarhead haircut which was fine with Langston as he had no say in the matter. Unlike their Army and Navy counterparts who could go nearly a month, Marines got a haircut every week—no exceptions.

He was sure there wouldn't be very many American men (or any other nationality) who could speak Russian fluently and he thought that would be a big advantage in possibly finding someone. While his head (and his little head) was completely on board, his heart still wasn't fully into this yet, but he'd failed miserably so far to make good on his promise to Kim and one way or the other, he was going to fulfill it or at least try very hard to do so. Besides, he hadn't promised her he'd marry someone from America or even his own age so what the hell, right?

He spent the next day out on the water bass fishing and didn't check the dating site until late that evening. When he did, he looked at his inbox and noticed he had 23 new emails. "Holy shit!" he said out loud to no one. "How in the hell can I have that many new emails in one day?" What he found when he began opening them had him alternating between feelings that this must be some kind of scam and a faint flicker of something he hadn't felt since before that fateful day in Dr. Hanson's office—hope.

Langston spent the next several weeks reading emails and checking profiles. Most were deleted post haste. Others were put into the "maybe" category. The few that really interested him, he answered immediately. The responses further raised his concerns when every girl he wrote to from the age of 18-30 seemed ready, willing, and able to get married. All of them said something to the effect that age didn't matter and that further made him wonder what was going on. The engineer inside him kept screaming, "How could a 20-year old girl WANT to have sex with a guy who was closing in on 60 no matter what kind of shape he was in?" He also knew she'd want children and he wouldn't. Alarm bells were going off all over the place and he was about to throw in the towel on the mail-order bride thing when he noticed the site was sponsoring a 10-day tour to Kiev. The cost was was just north of $7,500 but he didn't give a shit. He had to meet these women for himself to accurately assess the situation so he signed up for the tour and three weeks later boarded a plane in Savannah, Georgia to catch a non-stop flight out of Dulles in Washington DC.

Agency personnel met him and the other inbound men at the airport in Kiev and provided transportation to the best hotel in the city. Meals and the services of numerous interpreters were all included in the price of the package deal. Langston was thankful he wouldn't need anyone to translate for him and thus inject a lot of uncertainty or misinformation into the conversation.

That evening, about 75 middle-aged men began assembling in one of the large rooms the agency had rented for the event. Langston grabbed a drink and began sizing up the competition. "Holy shit! What a bunch of fat fucks!" he said under his breath as he made his way around the room. He shook hands with several of the other guys and was dumbstruck at how many were grossly overweight, bald, had bad comb overs, bad teeth, or some combination thereof. One theme he kept hearing over and over from these Romeos was how Ukrainian women "weren't like American girls." They supposedly didn't care about a man's age or how he looked. They just wanted to meet a nice guy who could take care of them. Langston knew that was bullshit. No girl from any country wanted to sleep with her father! Hell, he didn't want to sleep with women his own age because they reminded him of his own mother or even worse—his grandmother. No thanks. Why would attractive girls under 30 be any different just because they grew up in another country? Ukraine was a very modern country and nothing like the backwater place those unfamiliar with it thought it was. He realized while it was possible to find a woman like that at his age, when you factored in other things like weight, thick glasses, a lovely combover, and a beer gut, the odds went down dramatically.

He didn't bother trying to set anyone straight. Geniuses of this kind already knew everything so who was he to inject reality into their fantasy? Sure, many of them would spend tens of thousands of dollars looking and never find anyone—and most importantly failing to realize the problem was with them—but that wasn't his concern. He had his own issues to focus on.

For the most part, these girls were smart. Most were very well educated and a fairly high percentage were college graduates or going to college. Nearly all of them were into fitness and fashion. Virtually none of them smoked. Also working in his favor was that the majority of young men in Ukraine either did smoke or abused alcohol, and/or didn't respect women. They had the old Soviet mentality that women were property. Although the men and their attitudes were slowly changing, the women were light years ahead of them. 

So while It was true that it was hard to find a decent Ukrainian man who didn't abuse alcohol or believe in doing the same to women, that still didn't mean these beautiful 20-somethings were going to run off and marry a 60-old man with several huge negatives working against them and willingly stay with him after they got their green cards. It just meant they were willing to the lower the bar—a lot in some cases—to find a way to a better life. If they had to kiss (or even fuck) a frog or two on the way, then that was a price some of them were willing to pay. But that didn't mean they were going to fall in love, stay in love, and live happily ever after with some guy who took no pride whatsoever in his personal appearance. He was pretty sure many of these girls had been lured in by the agency with promises of handsome, young, wealthy foreign men. Wealthy? Maybe. A few of them might have money. But young? Langston didn't see anyone under 30 and only a couple of guys under 45. Most were older than that and many looked much older. "Not here, girls," he said to himself. Langston already knew the deal and had made peace with it, but there was no convincing this room full of self-styled Don Juans. They'd just have to learn the hard way.

About this time, the agency's main representative went up on stage and made an announcement. "Gentlemen, we are proud to announce the arrival of over 200 beautiful Ukrainian women who will be entering the room in five minutes." He went on to explain how the process would work with each girl taking a seat. The men would initially be seated across from a girl at random and for the next several hours during Round One as they called it, they would have two minutes to get acquainted, take notes, and move on to the next girl to their right. Each and every girl would have an interpreter with her and we were very encouraged to tip them for their work. Langston smiled at the capitalist angle but he also understood and accepted it for what it was.

A few moments later and the doors opened and through them came a long line of very young and mostly very attractive young girls wearing their Sunday best who paired off with the other very long line of interpreters. Langston was taking mental notes as to which girls he wanted to meet but there were so many, he quickly lost track. He was shuttled around until he finally found a seat and ended sitting across from one of the few girls in the room who was truly overweight and hopelessly unattractive. Langston thought how it wasn't just the men who were delusional. This girl, named Anna, referred to herself as a very beautiful, young Ukrainian girl twice in those two minutes. He knew beauty was in the eye of the beholder but it would take a very kind, very blind eye to find any in her.

After that, he got into the speed-dating routine and actually had a fairly good time. He'd managed to chat with four girls he wanted to spend additional time with the following evening when they would have about twenty minutes each during Round Two to get further acquainted. After that, the men could ask a woman on a date if they so desired. She, of course, could accept or decline. Much to his delight, all four had agreed to a second meeting. 

Every woman with whom he spoke was amazed when he told her without an interpreter, > which means "I can speak Russian fluently." The girls were all very impressed. They'd never met any foreigner, let alone an American, who could speak Russian that well. Even more impressive that he had just the slightest trace of an accent. Langston remembered watching his fellow language students happily butcher the Russian language when they spoke it at DLI, the Defense Language Institute, in Monterey, California. Oral evals were 1/3 of their grades with reading and listening comprehension making up the other two-thirds. These young soldiers, sailors, and airmen made no attempt to even try and learn the Russian accent. The just slammed out the words in the worst English accent imaginable. All they cared about was graduating and getting to their next assignment which usually meant listening on headphones. So why bother working so hard on speaking correctly was their motto. Not Langston. He asked his instructors to stop him every time he said something wrong grammatically or in terms of pronunciation. Initially, it was brutal, but as the months went by, it was well worth the effort as he was continuously praised by each new Russian instructor who heard him speak. It became common for him hear to this comment. > or "here's an American who's accent has (almost) disappeared. Almost." He hated that word but he realized no one could learn a language as an adult and speak with no accent whatsoever. It just wasn't possible no matter what TV show claimed it was after a few weeks of "total immersion." So almost had to be good enough.

The interpreters were not as happy as Langston as they were doing quite well for themselves collecting a buck or two (or more) from most of the men every two minutes. Considering they might earn $200US a month working full-time in Kiev at their regular jobs, this kind of money made in one evening was huge.

The second night, the girls again showed up with their interpreters. In this smaller-scale setting, Langston learned that the agency requires an interpreter whether she is used or not. He also learned that the interpreters' English skills ranged from excellent to downright atrocious. However, if you couldn't speak Russian, you had absolutely no idea what the girl sitting across from you actually said or how well what you said was translated. Therefore, there was often a whole lot of smiling, nodding, many puzzled looks, a few sighs of exasperation, and a whole lot of да, да, да's being thrown around.




The Interpeter



He was particularly interested in talking some more with a 24-year girl name Olga. That just happened to be his least favorite Russian name, but she was not only charming and attractive but very intelligent, as well. Keith spent his full twenty minutes with Olga and found his head swirling. She was not only very interesting but also very interested in him! She was pretty, sexy, fit, and had a college degree. Like so many others, she wanted to travel the world and was hoping to find her 'soul mate' here who would take her away from what she said was her dull, boring life in Ukraine. The other three girls were also relatively interesting but not enough to want to see again, so Langston made an actual date with Olga for the next night.

He was a bit surprised when she showed up with a new interpreter he hadn't seen before. Langston initially just glanced at her but something flashed in his brain which forced him to look again. Langston found himself unable to take his eyes off of her. As she got closer, the reason why grew clearer. He noticed that while her hair was lighter—a kind of dirty blonde, she otherwise bore a striking resemblance to Kim. He tried not to keep staring as his date was with Olga, but he found it nearly impossible not to glance her way every chance he had. A quick comparison easily set her ahead of Olga in terms of looks as well as her figure. Olga was very pretty. This girl—this young woman—was hot. She introduced herself to him as Oksana which, along with Larissa, was his favorite female Russian name. Oksana's English was above average but by no means great. She was very complimentary of Keith's Russian and most importantly, she sat quietly without interrupting. She wasn't speaking, but Langston noticed she was paying very careful attention to every word of the conversation. The few times he was unable to prevent himself from casting a glance her way, she smiled politely. The resemblance to Kim was truly striking. Oksana had Kim's full lips, perfect white teeth, and killer smile. Kim's eyes had been blue while Oksana's were green. Again, the hair was lighter but—Jesus...

Langston had invited Olga to the nicest restaurant in the city and also paid for Oksana's meal as no one was allowed to date (with the agency's approval) without an interpreter/chaperone. He made small talk for some time with Olga before saying, "Olga. There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Actually, there are three things." Her eyes lit up and she smiled brightly saying, "Ну, давай! Пожалуйста!" or "Go ahead! Please!"

Keith chose his words carefully trying to explain the first of his concerns as to why he thought it unrealistic that a young woman would want to marry, and of course, have sex with, a man his age. He even made sure to address the kind of comment he often heard from these girls that age is just a number. He explained why he therefore felt it necessary to ask any girl who said that to justify her interest in a man 20-35 years older than her. 

Langston continued by saying, "In other words, I would understand if a girl like you was really interested in a man like me for the things he can provide her rather than because she's head-over-heels in love with him physically. Please don't misunderstand me. I would love to be intimate with a pretty young woman. For a man my age, that makes a lot of sense. It's understandable. What's not understandable is how that pretty, young woman would want to make love with a man her father's age." He paused for a moment then told her, "The second thing is something else I need to tell you upfront because it's an issue that's extremely important to all young woman. I don't want to have children. It isn't that I don't like children, it's just that I'm at a point in my life where raising one is more than I'm willing to do."

"What else?" she asked.

Langston explained the pre-nuptial agreement without going into any detail.

Olga asked him, "And what's the girl's part of this—deal?"

Langston began by saying, "If this sounded like a business deal, I'm very sorry. That wasn't my intent. I was only trying to help you see things realistically when it comes to living with a man who is 30 years older than you. These issues I'm raising are legitimate concerns. They're not insignificant things to be dismissed with a claim that age is just a number. And I would think that from the woman's perspective, a big concern would be that this older man only wants her as a sexual companion. I can assure you that while I enjoy sex very much, I want much more than that from a future wife. I'm hoping to find someone who enjoys dressing nicely and who would have fun doing the things I enjoy like traveling, sailing, rock climbing, going to the gym, etc."

Olga nodded and said, "Ничего страшного!" or "That's no big deal!" 

Langston expected Olga to have some kind of concerns or maybe even get angry and/or walk away. Instead, she told him she agreed with everything he said and that she was very interested in furthering their relationship. He knew something was wrong. This was way too easy. He couldn't put his finger on it, but this just didn't smell right. That said, he let it go for the rest of the evening. They finished their meal, had a glass of champagne, and then Oksana reminded them that their time was up. Langston escorted Olga downstairs and made sure she got safely into a cab when he noticed Oksana was still standing near the entrance to the hotel.

Keith waved goodbye to Olga then went to see if Oksana needed something. She looked at him and said to him in Russian, "Yes, please. There's something very important you need to know."

"This sounds serious. Do you want to go back inside and have a drink?"

She agreed and they sat down at the bar where he ordered them both a glass of red wine. "Okay. Please tell me what's so important."

Oksana took a sip then said in her best English, "You are very nice man and I am very much liking you because I think you are sincere and honest. We don't find these things in our men in our country so is one reason why we look outside of Ukraine. You tell to Olga all the truth. But she is not so much telling truth to you."

"How so?" I asked.

Oksana looked around to see who might be listening then said quietly, "We are not supposed to talk about gerls we interpret for. We only translate. No opinions. No comments. So for telling you this, I can be losing my job. But I have to tell you because as I tell already, you are nice man." She paused and took another sip of her wine, "Oh, I am forgetting to say 'thank you' for wine. It is very tasty."

"You're very welcome," Langston said as he took a sip of his own. "Go on. I'm all ears," he said.

Oksana raised an eyebrow and said, "I am not understanding meaning about ears."

Langston explained the colloquialism to her in Russian and she laughed politely. "Oh, okay. So you are not giant ear! This is good thing, no?" Langston also laughed.

"So Olga is nice gerl. I am knowing her for long time now. But she is not honest to you like you are to her. She has leettle boy named Mahkseem. He now has four years of age. Also, she steel has husband so she will never marry you. She will say 'yes' but when you return to United States to get fiancee visa, she will start asking for the money from you. Maybe she will say it is to help her old mother or for new computer to talk to you. But she will be staying in Ukraine with husband and son."

"How come the agency doesn't know this?" I asked her. "They claim to screen every girl."

"They try. But it is easy to get divorce paper that is—how you say—фальшивый?" 

"The word is 'forged.'"

"Yes! I remember word now. So Olga has friend who makes forged paper to show agency but she is not divorcing husband and has son. I'm very sorry. I am liking you so I have to go on risk and say this. I am hoping you will not be telling agency."

"No. Of course not. I knew something was wrong. I just couldn't place it."

"Place it?" Oksana asked with a puzzled look. 

Langston suggested they switch to Russian to avoid any further misunderstanding. He explained to Oksana he didn't mean to put something somewhere, but that he'd identified a problem. He tried to imagine life with a Russian-speaking woman where neither one could communicate. Marriage was hard enough. Then add to the mix a constant stream of miscommunication along with the age difference, and that was a recipe for disaster.

As they finished their wine, Oksana said in perfect Russian, "Can I tell you something else?"

"Yes, of course," Keith said.

"I was listening very closely to your conversation with Olga, and I found myself agreeing with pretty much everything you told her. You know, about younger women and older men. It isn't just Americans. I see men from Canada, Australia and the UK come here every six months honestly believing a 20 or 25-year old Ukrainian girl will gladly marry anyone from the West to escape Ukraine. What they don't understand is this is our home. We love our country. Our families are here. But we ARE willing to leave for the right man. The problem is when foreigners come here looking, they're almost all over 40 and most are over 50. So this creates a real problem for these young girls who want to find a loving husband who isn't an alcoholic and who respects women. This desire causes many of them to say they don't care about age but as you rightly pointed out, they do. Well, it might be better to say they care if the man is old and unattractive. In that case, you are 100% correct. No girl my age wants to have a 60-year old man who is fat and bald make love to her. I don't want to sound mean or snobbish. It's just the simple truth."

"How do you feel about having children? I suppose I should perhaps ask whether or not you have a child first, though." Langston smiled to indicate he wasn't trying to mean but to find out the truth.

Oksana said, "No, I don't have a child. In fact, I've never really wanted children. Maybe that'll change one day, but I have far too many other things I want to do in life. While we're talking, let me say something else about the difference in age issue. In your case, I honestly think you could find a younger woman who would love you for yourself unless, of course, she has her heart set on having a child. That really is a huge issue and most of the men who come here don't give it the consideration it deserves. You clearly take very good care of yourself. I'm not sure how to best say this so I'll just be frank with you. I don't know your exact age, but it's obvious you're not 30 or even 40 but then, whatever it is, you don't look 'old.' I'd guess you're maybe 45-48 or so but I won't ask. And you're quite correct in saying Ukrainian women are like all other women. The one difference may be that most of us still have a traditional view of marriage so if this kind, generous, older man doesn't look like too much our father, well, then maybe it's possible to see him as an attractive, desirable man. If so, the it's hypothetically possible they could have a very successful marriage." 

Langston was indeed paying attention and clearly she was a very intelligent, well-spoken woman. But her striking resemblance to Kim was distracting in the extreme. He nodded occasionally but said nothing except to tell Oksana, "I just turned 56." 

Oksana paused then said, "Then you actually look quite young for your age." She smiled then continued by saying, "We are also smart women. We can tell when a man is being honest and when he's just interested in well, as you so rightly put it—one thing. We both have needs but our concerns are very different. Yours is that she just wants you for your money. Ours is that you just want us for our um—bodies. In your case, you are clearly an honest man who's thought about all of these things and any Ukrainian girl has to admire that. And if I may say so, it's another huge plus in your favor. You know, for an old guy." 

Oksana smiled and Langston laughed. She then said, "I hope I wasn't so honest that I said something offensive. You really are a very nice man and I've enjoyed talking with you."

Langston told her he was enjoying the conversation, too, then added, "Not at all. In fact, I really appreciate you being so open and honest both about Olga and about the way Ukrainian women think. I've been here twice before but spent most of time in Russia and one thing I've learned is that Ukraine is most definitely not Russia. I'm not saying Russian women aren't 'hip' or progressive but I know things are different there. I guess what I'm saying is I really admire Ukraine and its people."

Oksana thanked him for the kind words and said, "That's true. Many Ukrainians hate Russia for the way it treated us and we deeply resent being called Russians because we're not. Stalin killed millions of us by starving our people to death. We are our own country with our own language and history even though most of us can still speak Russian fluently as it was taught in our schools here for decades. In fact, in many parts of Ukraine, it still is."

Oksana smiled. She was obviously (and rightly) very proud of her language skills and switched back to English. "It is pleasure to talk with you. You are very inciting man, Mr. Langston."

Langston didn't tell her the correct word was "insightful." He just said, "Thank you and please call me Keith." He knew it would come out as "Keet" (or >) because the th sound didn't exist in Russian. He also knew it would make her laugh because кит meant whale in that language.

Oksana managed to suppress a laugh as she said, "Well, you are very big man so okay, I call you Кит." Oksana paused for a moment then said, "So now you know what I was having to tell you and I'm glad I do this. But...now...well...may I ask you question?" Langston also knew there were no articles in the Russian language. The words a, an, and the, didn't exist and Russian speakers had fits trying to figure out which one to use and when. Many got so sick of botching it, they just omitted them altogether. In her case, it was just inexperience but learning how to use them was very difficult for anyone whose first language was Slavic.

"Of course. Ask me anything." Langston was still staring at her face and her eyes. If he closed them for a moment he could almost see a lighter-haired version of Kim sitting next to him.

"This 'contract' or 'deal' you are mention to Olga. Is this serious proposal? You would really consider marrying Ukrainian woman if she agreed to your...terms?"

This time, Langston wasn't even paying attention to what Oksana was saying. He just sat there and stared while she spoke. In response, he didn't answer her question, he just blurted out in Russian, "May I tell you something?" Oksana nodded.

"You remind me of my late wife—a lot. She was beautiful like you with high cheek bones and beautiful eyes. Your hair is lighter and longer and your eyes aren't blue, but otherwise I believe you could almost pass for her. You are so very pretty. Why aren't you in the agency looking for a husband yourself?"

Oksana looked down, then away, then back at Langston. She was obviously flattered by what he said. "I married Ukrainian boy when we both had 21 years of age. We were too young and he was already too much drinking after two years in Army. I was believing I could change him to stop but he keeps drinking even more. Then he treats me like I am pet. But not like bird. Like dog. He orders me and hits me. So I divorce him. Since then, I don't find any nice Ukrainian man. Then I have 23 years. I hear about agency. So I sign up. I come to tour groups like this. As you say, nearly all men who come for wife are much older than me. I would love to have kind, caring husband but as you say it seems not natural to sleep with man who is as age of my father. But not just age. These men are also not so handsome. They don't even try to look as best as possible and that is worst problem. So I quit looking and get job interpreting two times each year when tours come to Kiev. Also sometimes I am translating emails for agency. Pay is very good by Ukrainian standards. Now I have 25 years and am fine with staying single. I have wonderful, loving parents and good job so I am happy."

Keith nodded again. He spoke English even though he was concerned she might misunderstand him. He knew that speaking was much harder than listening for most people so he hoped her comprehension was good. "I understand and that all makes perfect sense. You're just such a lovely, charming girl, Oksana, and you deserve to find your soul mate." He smiled when he said that then added, "Soul mate. That's an interesting term. Virtually every Ukrainian woman I've met here has told me she's searching for her soul mate. I'm not sure I believe in that concept any more even though I somehow found a woman who would qualify as such. She was perfect for me and we had a wonderful, amazing life together. I don't have much hope I'll find another soul mate so that's not what I'm here looking for although it would be a dream come true to find another woman like her. I prefer to think there are many different women with whom I could be happy rather than that there's one special 'soul mate' waiting to be found."

Oksana laughed politely. "You are wise man, Кит. And handsome—for old guy!" They both laughed. "I want to say one more thing if is okay," she continued.

"Sure. Go right ahead."

Oksana's eyes met mine as she said, "We have strict rule in agency. Interpreters are not allowed to be dating men who are coming here for wife." She paused then said, "But I am not scared by rules. Maybe I am not so interesting for you but you are very much interesting for me. I am open to new life with right man—if I can fall in love with him. But first I have to learn if is even possible to fall in love with such man. So I would have to take dates with him to learn this." She finished speaking then looked down at her wine glass. 

Rather than laugh at her broken but acceptable English, Langston said, "Oksana? It's you who is actually very insightful. You're not only beautiful, you're also very intelligent."

Her pretty, bright eyes beamed as did her smile at the compliment. She said, "That is kind of thing woman like me wants to hear from man but never comes from Ukrainian men. To them we are like pet to be owned and used. It is very nice compliment. Thank you. You make me feel—like special kind of woman."

Langston smiled and told her sincerely, "I'm glad because you are special, Oksana. I'm only sorry now that I wasn't able to ask you to be my date tonight."

Langston noticed that Oksana blushed slightly. He felt bad thinking she probably didn't feel the same about him at all and the thought of going on a date with her father was well—repulsive.

Oksana finished her wine and without looking at him said quietly, "If such a man as you were asking me, I would be saying 'yes' for date and again hoping he will not be telling to agency." 

Oksana wasn't blushing now, but Langston but she was clearly uncomfortable. He could tell she wasn't some professional trying to set up some westerner she thought might be a cash cow. 

"I would very much like to go out with you, Oksana," Langston told her. He switched back to Russian and said, "But please understand that I'm at an age where I know exactly what I want in a woman. While I know that no woman can be everything a man wants, there are some things which are 'must haves' for me. Before I could fall in love again with any woman, I would have to know she would be okay with those things. She would have to do so willingly and gladly and I could tell if she's was doing them without enjoying them. I don't like arguing or disagreements and again, because I'm SO old..." He paused to see if she smiled. When she did, he continued. "I don't want to waste time fighting or trying to change someone. Besides, I also know no one can change another person. And frankly, I don't even want to try. I know that no two people will agree on everything, I'm just hoping to find a kind, beautiful girl who would enjoy what I have to offer. Youth, of course, isn't one of them." Again, another smile. "Lastly, I wouldn't want her to feel like I was controlling her. I would let her know what's important to me and then I would let her decide if she would be happy doing those things or not."




The Interpeter



She refused to speak Russian and said, "Does not every gerl give up some things to make marriage work? No one gets everything in relationship without going on compromises and in this case, I am understanding what you tell me. Many times, man or woman doesn't understand what kind of compromises other person is wanting. So they fight all of time. You are nice man. You are kind. You are polite. You are respecting woman. You are also very honest and open man. And as I say, not so bad looking." She smiled her amazing smile then said, "All those things I am liking very much. And even though I joke about how many years you have, I am sincere when I am telling you I see handsome man sitting here. So I am needing you to explain details of what you call...mmm...how is it? Oh, yes. Must haves. Then I can be knowing if is okay to me." That smile....

They spent the next half hour generically talking about the things Langston most wanted. He told Oksana she had the most obvious trait most men wanted—physical beauty. He made sure she knew just how attractive he thought she was and that also made her very happy. It was obvious that even as pretty as she was, men didn't tell her that. He also told her he thought she was intelligent, honest, and charming. These, he explained, were also essential ingredients. He further shared with her how important it was to have a wife who loved to dress well for him to which Oksana responded by saying, "What girl is not liking pretty clothes? I am not having many of them because cost is so much and money is too little but I very much like them. Is not so important for me to have them for myself but to wear them for loving husband would be great pleasure. This is not so bad compromise to go on. What more is 'must have' for you, Кит?"

Langston explained his love of traveling, the water, flying, working out and his love of talking to a woman who can hold her own on a wide variety of topics.

"Всё нормально," Oksana said confidently. This was all quite normal to her.

"So you don't see anything unusual in what I'm looking for? I mean, I wouldn't bring all of this up this fast if I was dating someone who lived near me. But I can't fly to Ukraine every few days to talk with a girl here so I want to make sure I'm being very clear."

"I understand. This is unusual way to go on date, no? So what does girl get for wearing nice things and climbing rocks and jumping from planes with Кит?" she said sweetly. She was partly teasing but also wanting to know what she might be getting into.

"First of all, she gets all of my love and caring. I will treat her like my equal partner and protect her at all times. Beyond that, she will have a very large, beautiful home to live in and decorate any way she likes. She'll need her own car in America so I'll buy her whatever model she wants. Well, maybe not a Bentley."

Oksana laughed again. "I am not even knowing how to drive car so fast one is not so important. Is very nice offer but you must teach me to drive first, okay?"

"There is something else I need to make very clear and I don't like talking about this but it's very important that I do." He spelled out the framework of a prenuptial agreement and what it meant. 

"I understand reason for such agreement. If pretty young woman is marrying man for money she will soon leave him and take money. This is—how do you say? > for him."

"Protection is the word you're looking for. Yes, it is protection. But if my wife stayed with me for more than five years, then I would make sure she receives some money and the amount would increase each year after that even if we divorced. In the meantime, she would have a very generous monthly allowance to spend any way she liked."

"Okay. Now I am better understanding. So if this is deal, it is not so difficult and I am understanding. Is very...mmm...разумно."

"Reasonable," Keith said.

"So how does girl show you she is meaning sincere and don't want just money?" Langston winced at her English but reminded himself it was still far better than 99.9% of Ukrainian or Russian women.

"I guess we should begin by going on a date."

Oksana smiled and said, "I think this is wise choice and necessary first step. I am agreeing to date with much pleasure!"

"How about we start by meeting tomorrow morning at noon in the lobby of my hotel?" Langston suggested still speaking in Russian. "From there, I'll take you shopping then pamper you with a massage and a makeover and hair styling at a spa/beauty salon. Then we'll spend the rest of the day together getting to each other better followed by a dinner at a nice restaurant. Does that sound reasonable for a first 'date?'"

"Yes, this is sounding nice but it is sounding very expensive. I am not needing so much things but because you tell me you like to see wife—I mean girl—in pretty clothes, I will try to go with such offer but will be very unusual for me. But I will try this. So I will see you at hotel tomorrow!"

Langston walked her to the door and hailed a cab. She insisted on paying for it herself but he told her, "Oksana, if this is going to work, you're going to have to get used to me spoiling you. That means you can't pay for anything any more when I'm with you. It will be my pleasure to buy things for you from now on. Please understand I'm not trying to buy you or your love. I just believe it's a man's responsibility to provide for a woman. You see, I'm very traditional in that sense myself. And...it makes me very happy to do this for you. So will you please try and let me?"

She was standing there in front of him and Langston thought he saw a tear well up in her eye. "Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?" he asked. He was still speaking in Russian and he knew he didn't make any grammatical mistakes.

Oksana replied in Russian. "Keith, you didn't say anything wrong. In fact, you said everything just right. No man—no, no person—has ever been so kind or so generous to me before. I understand you've only asked me out on a first date, but you need to understand I've dreamed about this kind of thing happening to me for as long as I can remember, but I gave up thinking it would ever actually happen. At least not to me. So that wasn't a tear of sadness. It was a tear of joy. And for the record, your age is a concern to me, but the more I know about you the less it matters. But you need to know that it does concern me. Knowing what I know about Ukrainian men and Western men, I gave up finding someone my age. Still, I often wondered if I might ever meet an older man who was attractive to me AND as nice as you are. And now suddenly, I've found someone who is both of those things. I didn't mean to cry. I'm just a little overwhelmed...but in a very nice way."

The taxi driver called out, "Come on! Let's go." Langston handed him $20 and asked him to be patient. That was a day's wages so he was all too happy to sit quietly.

"Keith?" Oksana said.

"Yes?"

"May I hug you goodbye?"

Langston was again taken by how beautiful she was and now he was also taken by how genuine and how caring she was. "I'd like that," he told her.

She moved closer and he took her into his arms for the first time. He held her for quite a while and she made no attempt to move away. Eventually, he slowly released his hold on her until she was looking into his eyes. "Спокойны ночи," he told her softly. 

"Good night to you, too," she said. Just before she got in the cab, she kissed him on the cheek and smiled at him again. Langston handed the driver another twenty and gave him directions. He stood there and returned Oksana's wave goodbye as the taxi pulled into the still-heavy traffic in downtown Kiev.

Langston made one phone call that evening before turning in. It was local and to an old friend who owed him a favor. Hell, several favors. He needed to call one in if it were even possible on such notice. As it turned out, it was. After that he took a long, hot shower and went to sleep.

As nice as his hotel was, it didn't have anything but a small exercise room with a couple of treadmills and a universal. He did some asking around and found out where the nearest gym was and at 8am, he was in a cab on his way there. He arrived at 8:30 and there were already a dozen people inside. All but two were women who were either doing yoga or spinning. Langston paid the daily rate then spent the next 45 minutes tearing up his back and biceps. He headed back to the hotel in time to take another hot shower then get breakfast and a cup of coffee before Oksana arrived.

He'd asked her to wear something she could easily get in and out of as he planned to have try on quite a few different things. He also requested she wear no makeup and that she wear her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. When she arrived right on time, he was at the main entrance waiting for her. "Доброе утро, милая" he said as they hugged one another. 

"Good morning to you, too, dear!" she said repeated cheerfully in English.

Oksana told him she'd already had breakfast so they agreed to head directly to begin their shopping. He opened the taxi door for her then sat down beside her. He gave directions to the driver when Oksana said, "No, hold on!" She looked at Langston and said in Russian, "That's crazy! You just told him to go to the most expensive shopping district in all of Ukraine. Don't get me wrong. They have some really beautiful things there, but you can find some very nice clothes at several other places I know and they're a whole lot less expensive. That'll be just fine with me and save you a lot of money. So let's go there instead, okay?"

Langston took her hand and said, "Oksana, I told you you're going to have to learn to let me spoil you. I haven't had anyone to buy pretty things for in so long I can't remember the last time I did this. It may be hard at first, but please, let me worry about money. Try your best to just relax, enjoy being spoiled, and if you can, enjoy looking beautiful for me. Of course, what I mean by that is making you even more beautiful than you already are." 

He paused and waited for her reaction. It was warm and honest and it said, "I'm not used to this and spending that kind of money makes me very nervous. Well, actually, I've never spent that kind of money. Just the thought of it scares me." She squeezed his hand and said, "I'm not sure it won't bother me, but I can promise you that I'll try not to let it do that." 

Then Langston added, "That's all I can ask for. What worries me is I'm not sure if it's even possible for you to be more beautiful than you already are so this may be an exercise in futility."

She slid close to him and put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his arm. As she did, she felt his biceps and said in English, "Oh! Somebody found sports hall. I can tell because there is big swelling in muscle!"

He even didn't correct her let alone laugh, but that was hilarious because something else was indeed swelling. It just wasn't his arm. Some called it a third leg but....

If this worked out, then once she got to America, he'd hire a tutor to help her perfect her language. As broken as her English sounded, he knew she was at about 80% along the way to mastering the language. Getting to even this level of proficiency was quite a feat and was very admirable. Hell, she spoke better English than 90% of the guys he knew who graduated from DLI spoke Russian. Anyone who's tried to master a foreign language understands how incredibly challenging it is to get anywhere close to where Oksana was. She spoke about as well as someone would after maybe three years of college-level English. Langston had spent over 5,000 hours studying Russian in a formal setting and many hundred more hours on his own. He was maybe 95% fluent and fluency was measured logarithmically. That meant closing that 5% gap was unbelievably difficult and would require spending years in a country where Russian was spoken learning all of the colloquialisms used in everyday speech, watching movies, reading poetry, and picking up on all the many things kids learned growing up that weren't taught in formal classrooms. Oksana would eventually get pretty close to that in English if she married him, while he was content with staying right where he was.

The taxi dropped them off in front of a very expensive clothing boutique. As he took Oksana's hand and led her toward it, she stopped him and said, "Боже мой!" 

"Why are you calling out to God?" Langston teased. "Do you suddenly believe in Him?"

Oksana hit him playfully on the arm and said, "No, of course not. I am good atheist woman. This place is too much expensive. One dress in here is costing me whole year's money! Is crazy, no?"

Langston pulled her along to the door and opened it for her then teased her saying, "You're not holding up your end of the bargain very well so far. I hope this isn't an indication of things to come." She hit him again but smile as she grabbed onto his "swollen" arm.

As they stepped inside she whispered, "You know everyone will think I am..." She asked him how to say "gold digger." 

"Let them think it. You're not digging for gold. I'm offering it to you so to hell with them."

Oksana laughed and said, "You are funny man. I like that you are making me to laugh. It is very pleasant."

One thing that struck him was that no one offered to help them. Hell, no one even said hello. Both girls looked right at them then just turned away so they wandered around looking until they found something he liked. That's when it hit him that the store personnel, who were all very well attired, must be thinking he couldn't possibly afford anything in a store like this. After all, they were both wearing jeans and t-shirts. Then again, maybe it was something else. Something even worse. Or maybe they were just bitches.

Oksana had no idea what he liked and he was content to let her look around at first. That way, he could see what kinds of things she gravitated toward. There were all kinds of displays with beautiful dresses, skirts, shoes, and blouses and she seemed to love every single item in the store. No matter what she showed him he'd say, "That's very nice." But what caught his eye was toward the back. He found a beautiful, off-white, sleeveless knit dress with a square neckline with a matching cardigan. He showed it to Oksana who said in English, "Oh, my goodness. Is very beautiful!"

"Do you really like it?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course I am liking it. I have never had such pretty dress. But where would I wear it? How many big parties are you having each year? It would be for special occasion, no?"

Rather than answer, Langston held it up against her. He didn't understand European sizes but he could she this was too large. Oksana was about 5' 6" and maybe 110 pounds—maybe. She needed about a size 4 and this looked like maybe an 8. Or else she needed a Small and this was possibly a Medium. 

"Since this is our first day together and since I'd love for you to wear it for me, I suppose this is a special occasion. But this is the kind of thing I would love for you to wear for me just any day of the week. It doesn't have to be a dress, though." He put it back on the rack and showed her a very sexy charcoal gray sweater and black skirt. "This would also be very nice."

"Боже мой!" she said again. "Кит? Do you see price? Dress is 350 Euros. Cardigan is 150 Euros. Sweater is 175 Euros. Skirt is 125. It is crazy prices in here! Let's go to my stores, okay? I can make very good deal. Please? Clothes are not quite so nice but is still very good and not costing fortune? Okay?"

Langston ignored her and picked up all three things plus another sweater that was a powder blue with a Navy-blue skirt. "Here, try these on, okay?"

Oksana just stared at him. No, she was glaring at him. She had to be thinking he was insane. He just smiled and nodded his head toward the changing booths and handed her the clothes. "Go ahead. Let me see how you look."

She shook her head but took all of the items and headed that way. The girl working in that section had a brief exchange with Oksana which got a bit loud. It ended abruptly when she looked over at Langston who just smiled and waved. The girl reluctantly opened the door but only let Oksana take in one item at a time. Langston thought he heard the word "сука!" but wasn't sure who said it. While he hoped it wasn't Oksana, it would be even worse to think that a clerk in an upscale store like this would call a potential customer a whore, but he was old enough to be her father so...let the games begin. Comments like that would be likely be a regular occurrence anytime the two of them went out together.

A couple of moments later, Oksana opened the door and motioned for him to come closer. She wasn't planning on stepping out but Langston took her hand and basically dragged her in front of a very large mirror. Oksana was wearing the sweater dress which was even shorter than he thought it would be, but her slender legs and tight butt made it look sensational on her. Okay, he had to admit that as a boob man, her perfect, size C breasts filled it out in an amazing way. Langston stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He lowered his head and said quietly, "You look incredible. Do you like it?"

"Of course. Is beautiful but it is costing..."

"We'll take this one," he said to the snobby store clerk. "Try on the others for me, okay?"

One by one Oksana modeled each item for him. She looked sensational in every one. "These, too," he said in Russian.

When she came back out he said, "So now you need some shoes and purses to match."

Oksana switched to Russian and said, "I heard you say purses—plural. I only need one. Black will go with everything. Same with the shoes. Really. That'll be more than enough."

"Hardly!" Langston said cheerfully. "You need a pair for each outfit and since they're different colors you'll need a different purse for each, as well. Now—go. Look. Find. Shoe fly!"

She gave him a "you've gotta be friggin' crazy look" but she broke down and smiled then went and did as she was told. Forty-five minutes later she had three new pairs of shoes and three new purses on the counter next to the new clothes."

Oksana nearly passed out when the girl rang up the total. It came to just over 4,500 Euros. As he handed her the bags she shook her head again and said, "Боже мой!"

"You really are a very religious young lady!" he teased. She just shook her head in disbelief but he could tell she was also secretly thrilled to be doing something she never once imagined possible.

"So I will get us taxi, okay?" she offered.

"Taxi? Are you kidding? You still need bras, panties, stockings, a coat, and jewelry. We don't need no stinking taxi!"

Oksana was not only puzzled at his comment about taxis with a foul odor, she was beside herself at all the money Langston was spending. She might spend $25 a month on new clothes for herself. Maybe. Had Langston not made such a positive impression on her as a kind, decent, caring man, she'd have felt used and...cheap...as though he was trying to buy his way into her life. But she was afraid to admit it but deep down she knew he'd already gotten inside not only her life, but as much as it frightened her to admit it, into her heart. 

As they headed toward the jewelry store she said, "So, Кит. I must ask. Are you in American mafia?" When he looked at her she said, "How else can Army officer be spending so much money? I know you have pension but how you can do this? It is so much? And why all for me? Why are you not buying for yourself something, too?"

He stopped her and said with (mostly) mock indignation, "First of all, I was a Marine Corps officer. Nothing is more offensive to a Marine than being called a soldier unless maybe you call him a sailor. Them's fighting words!" Oksana finally laughed again as he continued. "And didn't I tell you—twice—that it was my job to worry about the money and your job to worry about being beautiful for me?" He brushed his hand across her cheek and said, "Why am I doing it? Because this makes me very happy. So will you please let me do this for you? And as to 'why you?'—if that answer isn't obvious yet, then either my Russian is worse than I think it is or you're just not as smart as I thought you were." 




The Interpeter



It was her turn to feign indignation as she said, "I am very smart lady! I am smart enough to accept date with rich American man in mafia!" No sooner had she finished making a her playful comment, Langston saw another tear form in her eyes.

"Hey! Don't be sad. What I meant was I like you very much, Oksana. And when you care about someone, giving them things is a pleasure, not a burden."

A tear fell as she said, "But I cannot give to you any of these things back so I am very sad because I am very much liking you too, Кит."

He sat her large bags down on the sidewalk and put his hands on her arms. "If you're going to be my wife someday, then this is the way it's going to be. I don't want things from you, моя возлюбленная. I have all of the things any man could ever want. I only want your love or at least your friendship."

She wiped away her tears then put her arms around him and said, "You just called me sweetheart."

"Yes, I did. Is that okay?"

He could feel her sobbing very gently. She spoke in Russian. "Yes. It's very okay. It's just that one kind word like that is a nicer gift than all of these expensive things and believe, they are very nice. I'm grateful for all of them but your words make me happier than all these shoes and pretty clothes put together." She hugged him and said, "You make me want to wear them for you because I'm feeling...well, at least I think I'm feeling...something very much like...love for you. And that's something I've never felt for any man before. And so a part of me feels a little bit afraid."

"What part makes you feel afraid, Oksana?"

"The part where I wake up and find out this was a dream. That it isn't real. That you aren't real."

He playfully flipped her ponytail and said, "This is all very real. I am very real. And I meant everything I said. And although all I really hoped to find in your country was a best friend, I'm starting to feel the same way about you, too."

She stood up but kept her arms around his neck and said in English, "In Ukraine, is allowed to kiss girl on first date...if man is wanting to."

Langston smiled and said, "I like your country and its rules."

Oksana stood on her toes and Langston kissed her gently on the lips. It wasn't a long kiss nor was it passionate. It wasn't even romantic but it was clearly heartfelt and most definitely romantic. In a word, it was...nice. 

They held one another right there in the middle of the sidewalk for several moments before finishing their shopping. By the time Langston took Oksana into the nicest spa and salon in the city, he'd spent another 2,500 Euros and Oksana decided to stop counting and complaining.

Chapter 2

Langston had asked Oksana if she trusted him yet on the cab ride. "Yes, I trust you. Completely. Why do you ask?" she wanted to know.

"Because I'd like you to let me choose your hair color and style," he said with a smile.

"Are you wanting me to look like former wife for you," she said with sadness in her voice.

Langston turned sideways and said, "No! Not at all. I told you honestly you do look like her in some ways. But my wife was a brunette and I'm not going to change your hair to a darker color. I don't want you to look like her in that way. I've just always wanted to do this for a girl. It's kind of a fantasy of mine. She trusts me enough that she sits down while I show the stylist the color and style I want. She doesn't get to look until I come to pick her up. But I promise I don't want you to look like anyone else."

Her disappointment faded so she switched to English and said, "Okay, this is maybe fun sounding. I will agree to go on such risk as this for you. But you must make promise for me."

"What promise?" Keith asked.

"The hairs cannot only not be brown. They (the word for 'hair' in Russian is plural so it's common for Russian speakers to use 'them' or 'they' instead of 'it' for hair) cannot be purple or green or pink. Not crazy color, okay?" She was smiling again and he wanted to kiss her so bad.

"If I promise, may I kiss you again?"

She pretended to be annoyed and said, "Yes, but first you must make promise. Only then is kiss."

Langston say up and said, "I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die!"

Oksana laughed and said, "English is funny language. How can twisted heart and desire of death help with promise? It makes no sense."

Langston smiled, leaned down, and said, "I'll explain it later, okay? Now, you owe me a kiss."

Oksana closed her eyes and this time Langston kissed her more passionately. He was thrilled when her tongue briefly met his. After about five seconds, he ended the kiss. As he did, Oksana whispered, "Боже мой!"

"I have one more question. You say this is like fantasy for you. Do you have other fantasies like all men are having? I think yes so you will tell me, no?"

"I do have one but that isn't something I'd share on a first date. Maybe on a second or third."

Oksana smiled again and said, "So this is proposal for second date?"

"Yes, it is," Langston told her. "And a third."

Langston wasn't a fashion or makeup expert but he knew Oksana was unusual for a Slavic girl. She didn't have the kind of very round face so many of girls from this part of the world have. Hers was heart-shaped. It was wider at the top and narrower at the chin. She had killer cheekbones and as much as she reminded him of Kim, he could also easily picture her as a fairer-skinned Halle Berry. He recalled seeing the actress with a sensational looking short, pixie cut hairstyle. But it wasn't spiked the way most pixies are. It was smoothly styled on top, short (but not extremely so like a guy's or anything) on the sides, and it was sort of swept over one side of her brow. Langston remembered seeing the pic and thinking how one of the most beautiful women on earth looked even hotter and sexier than before. That surprised him because he generally liked women with hair from around chin to maybe shoulder length. But on a face like this....

In stark contrast to the clothing store, Langston and Oksana were greeted cheerfully the moment they walked in. A middle-aged woman wearing too much makeup smiled and said, "Чем могу служить?" or "How may I help you?"

Oksana explained that she wanted to get her hair and makeup done but the lady said they were completely booked up. Langston smiled and said to the lady in his best Russian, "Девушка" which while literally translated means "girl" is the most common way a woman a man doesn't know addresses her. The older she is, the more flattering it can be depending on who says it and how it's said. She was clearly flattered as she smiled broadly at him.

Keith noticed her name was Tatyana. "Tatyana, may I ask you to do me a favor?" he said taking her aside. "This is all my fault. I haven't seen my...daughter...in many years. As you can tell from my accent, I'm an American. I don't get to see my girl very often and I'm trying to be a better father. I love her so much and I only have two days here. I want to take her to the American Embassy for a dinner tonight with the Ambassador and she has her heart set on a new hairstyle and a makeover. I told her I had an appointment but I didn't call and make one. Would you please help out a forgetful father who who wants to make a good impression on his daughter? Please?"

Oksana stood there. Her jaw was agape as she listened to Langston spin this tale of BS out of thin air. 

Tatyana replied, "Normally, I couldn't fit you in under any circumstance but I have a daughter about her age, too. I know how important it is to feel beautiful for someone she loves. You are a good father, Mr...?

"Langston."

"Mr. Langston. So I will personally take care of your daughter. Let me just find out what she wants, okay?"

"Oh, no. You see, that's the special part of this. She's really trying to learn to trust me so she's letting me choose the color and style. She'll also need a makeover. So, may I show you a photo of what I'd like it to look like?"

Tatyana fidgeted a bit and said, "She isn't a child so I'll have to get her permission first." 

Before I could stop her she called out, "Девушка!" Oksana instinctively responded. Tatyana said, "Your father says it's okay for him to choose the color and style for your haircut. Is that okay with you?"

Oksana smiled and narrowed her eyes as she looked at me. "My father told you that did he?" she said. 

Tatyana nodded at me and said, "Yes. I think it's very brave of you to trust him like this. I'm going to make you so beautiful for your dinner at the American Embassy tonight!"

"Oh, really?" she said. "Well, in that case please tell my...father...that his daughter is looking forward to meeting the ambassador. In fact, she can hardly wait to discuss this with him." 

Langston smiled, waved weakly and said, "Thank you, sweetheart. I'm so glad you can trust me like this."

Oksana gave him a look that said 'you're in SO much trouble' but said sweetly, "Why wouldn't I trust you, daddy? You're always so honest!"

Langston found the pic of Halle on his smart phone and showed it to Tatyana who said, "Oh! She is such a beautiful lady! And your daughter has the perfect face for a style just like that. Do you want to change the color or leave it as it is?"

Oksana was a sandy blonde which was okay, but Langston preferred brunettes. However, he already promised her it wouldn't be brown so he told Tatyana, "Let's lighten her color to somewhere close to a true blonde. Not quite platinum blonde, though. That's a little too white. Maybe get it somewhere between a true blonde and platinum?" She showed him a set of photos and Langston pointed to the one he wanted which was exactly what he had in mind.

"Oh! One more thing. Can she change into her dress here once she's done?" Langston inquired.

"Yes, of course. We don't want to get hair bleach or makeup on her clothes, do we? That's why we have a room for that right over there."

Langston hung Oksana's winter-white dress up in the bag it came in along with everything else that went with it on a shelf next to it.

"All of your things will be right here, okay honey?" he said to his 'daughter.'

Oksana threw her arms around him and said rather loudly, "Oh, thank you, daddy! You're such a good father. I love you so much!" Then she kissed him fully on the lips.

Langston's eyes shot wide open in horror as virtually everyone in the salon looked their way. "You are such a good daddy to me!" Oksana said as she backed away while running her hand down his chest. "I'll see you in a couple of hours—daddy. Okay?" Then she blew him another kiss.

Langston couldn't remember the last time he'd been flustered but he was indeed caught off guard. "Damn. She's good!" he thought to himself. "The kid's got game." He feebly waved goodbye. He shrugged his shoulders and gave the onlookers that "kids will be kids" kind of look and made for the exit. Oksana was clearly enjoying this. Then again, he had to admit, so was he.

In the interim, Langston had things to do. He took a cab to a couple of places he had to get to before going back to pick up Oksana. The first took less than ten minutes. He knew exactly what he wanted. He walked in, paid for it, then walked two blocks to the next place to a shop that rented tuxedos. He was a large man but an easy fit. A $500 refundable deposit (less a $100 per night rental fee) allowed him to walk out looking like he should be at the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow. People stared but with a girl like Oksana by his side, that was going to be standard fare with or without a tux so he realized he'd better get used to it.

Back in front of the boutique, he stood outside and looked in. At first, he couldn't see her. And then he spotted Oksana sitting near the back by herself. She was flipping through a magazine and didn't notice him. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Langston said to himself. "She's...gorgeous!" And she was.

Her hair was a stunningly beautiful blonde styled exactly like the photo of Halle Berry. Her dress was also unbelievably sexy. She was wearing a pair of shiny-but-nearly-nude stockings that were perfect with the dress as were the three-inch heels she'd selected to wear with it. She was wearing gold earrings and a matching gold necklace. Her pretty face was absolutely gorgeous! The makeover was first-rate and Oksana looked like she was a model waiting for a photo shoot. Langston was glad he'd changed. He would not look right in jeans next to this incredibly beautiful creature.

He opened the door and slipped inside quickly enough so that she didn't see him. He found Tatyana, thanked her, and paid her for her services. He also tipped her $50 which was by far the biggest tip she'd ever received. She literally gushed over his tux and how both he and his...daughter...had transformed from caterpillars into butterflies in two hours! She assured him Oksana not been allowed to see herself as they avoided every mirror and even covered up the one in the changing room.

Langston stepped into the area where Oksana was sitting and waited for her to look up. When she did, it didn't immediately register to her who it was. When it did a moment later, the magazine fell out of her hands which flew up to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide open as she cried out, "Боже мой!"

She stood up and walked toward Langston. She looked him up and down and said in English, "I can't believe it is you. You are most handsome man I ever see. This is really you, Кит?"

Langston said, "Thank you and yes, it's me." He was still staring at her even as she continued staring at him. "But there's someone in this room far better looking than me. In fact, I would say she is the most beautiful woman on earth." He took her hand and said, "Come with me."

He led her to toward a full-length mirror. Before getting to it, Langston said, "Close you eyes." As she did he positioned her in front of it and said, "When I tell you to open your eyes, don't be shocked, but this is what the prettiest girl in the world looks like. Are you ready?" Oksana nodded. "Okay. Open them."

As she did, she began to tremble. She put her hands over her mouth again and for the umpteenth time that day said, "Боже мой!" She moved closer to the mirror and looked again. Langston moved behind and said, "Do you like it?" The knit dress hugged her shapely figure like a glove. It was stylish, sexy, and looked incredible on her hard, tight body. Her short hair was sexy as hell and it gave her a kind of bad-girl look he wasn't sure a girl this sweet could pull off. But pull it off she did. Holy shit she was hot!

Oksana didn't turn around. She was mesmerized by the woman she saw looking back at her. "I must try not to cry," she said. 

"Are you happy, sweetheart?" Langston asked her.

She nodded her head and said, "I feel like little girl in fairy tale. I never can imagine to be so beautiful but is true." She turned around and looked at Langston. Oksana fought off tears because as moved as she was, she was not going to ruin her makeup along with the long, false lashes she was wearing. "And here is handsome prince to take Cinderella to ball." She paused, managed to smile, and said, "I know American Embassy is part of joke like 'daddy' but is very nice thought. Where will you be taking me for first date, Кит?"

She put her arms around him being careful not to get any makeup on his tux and said, "That's a surprise," he replied. 

He brushed her short hair back from her eyebrow as she said, "So do you know what is happening to me?" He just looked at her and waited for her to speak. "You are making me to fall in love with you." She quickly added, "You don't have to feel same way. I just cannot help it. I am loving you."

Langston knew everyone was looking again but he didn't care. He put his hands on her hips and said, "I know we just met but I'm falling in love with you, too, Oksana."

They kissed long and passionately in spite of the gasps and the whispered comments about incest and how sick that was. When she finally came up for air Oksana said in Russian, "He's the best daddy any girl could ever have. Trust me, ladies."

Langston took her hand and led her outside where it was now getting dark and a little chilly. He helped her put on the cardigan sweater and hailed a cab. "We better hurry or we'll be late for dinner at the American Embassy." Oksana rolled her eyes and shook her head at his willingness to continue the charade. There were some very nice restaurants near there so the ruse was at least plausible.

Langston made sure to wait for one of the Mercedes-Benz taxis knowing they would be spotless thus avoid staining her beautiful, very expensive dress. Once inside, he slipped a note to the driver. Oksana said in Russian, "You're really just kidding about dinner at the embassy, right?" She looked at his tux again and said, "Or maybe you're not."

Rather than answer her he asked his own question. "Are you happy?"

The look in her eye answered his question but she spoke just the same. "I wasn't kidding about feeling like I'm in a fairytale. Maybe a fairytale that's part of a dream. This all seems so...surreal...to me. I keep asking how all of this is happening to me. Because I don't believe in God, I can't attribute it to a miracle, but that's exactly what this feels like." She looked in Langston's eyes and said, "I have never been this happy—or this in love—in my entire life. I don't ever want this feeling to end."

Moments later, the taxi stopped along the curb of the U.S. Embassy. Oksana's eyes were wide with disbelief as the driver said, "I can't take you any further. That'll be $5 in US." Langston gave him $20 and thanked him. He opened his door, got out, then turned and offered Oksana his hand. 

As she stood before him, both of them were overwhelmed with emotion. She said, "It is true. You are taking me to American Embassy. This is next chapter of fairytale with Кит."

Langston took her hand and told her, "Oksana, you are so incredibly beautiful."

She thanked him and said, "Is only because of you."

"No," he told her. "These are just clothes and makeup. It's you who is so beautiful."

Just then, two U.S. Marines approached them wearing their dress blues. The walked in step, halted six paces in front of him and saluted. The senior Marine was a Staff Sergeant named Willis who said, "Good evening, Colonel Langston, sir." He nodded to Oksana and said, "Good evening, ma'am." Again addressing Colonel Langston he said, "Sir, the defense attache is expecting you. I'm to escort you and your date inside."

He indicated the direction in which we should walk and then offered his arm to Oksana. Langston told her to go ahead and let him escort her inside the compound. Langston showed his retiree ID card as the passed by the sentry stationed outside. A few inside the embassy itself he saw his old friend, Army LTC Dave Harrington.

"Dave!" Langston called out. 

"Colonel! How the hell are you, sir?" Harrington said as they shook hands.

"Great! And you? You look good. For a soldier, that is." Langston missed the lively banter of being around active duty service personnel. He missed flying most of all but that was another life ago.

"And you clean up pretty well for a Jarhead!" Harrington shot back.

Harrington looked toward Oksana, bowed slightly and said in excellent Russian, "Good evening, ma'am. Colonel Langston told me you were beautiful, but I wasn't expecting a movie actress. Had I known, I'd have had the red carpet rolled out for you. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Langston could tell Oksana was enjoying all the attention but she was still confused about why they were here. He took her aside and said, "Didn't I say we'd be going to the American Embassy tonight?"

"Yes, you said but I am thinking this is joke. What is reason for being here?"

"They're having what they call the 'Fall Ball' here and I managed to get us an invitation," he explained.