Even after it was over, Ludmilla didn’t release him. She continued to use her tongue greedily and to gulp. The result was a speedy renewal of his passion.
Then she leaped to her feet. There was a full-length mirror across from them and she placed a straight-backed chair in front of it. She grasped the back of the chair with both her hands and bent over so that her large breasts swayed over the back of it. The way she was bending, her flushed derriere stuck out invitingly. She wriggled it insinuatingly and looked at Ivan Relevant in the mirror.
He responded immediately. Kicking his pants aside, he came up behind her, grasped her hips, and stabbed straight to the target. She squealed and her knuckles were white on the chair back. Looking in the mirror seemed to make her even wilder. Her breasts swung to and fro so vigorously that their mirror image was a blur. Her hips rotated frantically and the globes of her bottom bounced more and more demandingly against his lower stomach. Each time she caught a glimpse of the length of the Relevant member entering, or half withdrawing, she squealed aloud and pushed backward to recapture it.
Once Ivan Relevant switched targets and she cried aloud. Yet she responded to this new experience as she continued to respond when he switched back again. It was a little while later that she became so excited that her feet cleared the floor and Ivan Relevant supported her by her hips as her derriere circled grindingly in the throes of a second series of mounting orgasms. He thrust mightily and rode the crest of one of them through the peaks of two more, his release of passion continuing even after she subsided. The “Merman Thesis” was reconfirmed.
Then they fell to the floor together, exhausted. Who is Jonathan Relevant? Whatever else he may be, he’s a man who enjoys sex, Ivan Relevant decided. He closed his eyes and buried his face contentedly between Ludmilla’s breasts.
When he raised his head again and opened his eyes, the overhead light was blocked. It took him a moment to focus and realize that the blur was a figure of a man standing over the two of them. It was another moment before he appreciated that the man was holding a gun and pointing it at him.
“Well done, Comrade,” the man said to Ludmilla in Russian. There was a decidedly unhealthy smirk on his face.
“What are you doing here?” She scrambled to her feet, tugged down her mini-skirt, and pulled the silk blouse over her naked breasts.
“Moscow has decided not to take any chances. There is a plane waiting at a secret airfield. By the time the United States discovers it can’t deliver Ivan Relevant to the UN, he will be safely in Russia where he belongs. Comrade Relevant!” He waved the gun respectfully. “Will you please put your clothes on and come along with us.”
Ivan Relevant complied. “Is that gun really necessary?” he asked as they left the room.
“Your pardon. I feel insecure without it. Believe me, I look on it as nothing but a bond of friendship between us, Comrade Relevant.”
“Aren’t you afraid that this action could result in serious trouble between the United States and Russia?” Ivan Relevant asked.
“It is not my place to worry. Our leaders know what they’re doing.”
“Our leaders know what they're doing.” Such is the faith that makes government possible. Without it the rulers -— Russian, American, Chinese, whatever — presidents, premiers, dictators, et al.-—would be unable to govern. “Our leaders know what they’re doing.” Such is the tenuous clutch of mankind on civilization, Jonathan-Ivan Relevant reflected. Only sometimes, sometimes, leaders don’t know what they’re doing.
And what then? What then, Adolf-Benito-Nikita-Lyndon- Dickie-Spyro-Chou-Alexander? What then?
What then?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I don’t know what to do!” the President of the United States admitted.
“If you don’t, Mr. President,” Oswald wondered, “then who does?”
“How could you have let him slip through your fingers like that?!” the President demanded.
“You said you didn’t want him guarded, or his movements hampered in any way, Mr. President. We just followed your instructions.”
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t observe normal security precautions. I didn’t say the CIA should stop keeping him under protective surveillance!”
“We did that, Mr. President. There was a man observing his every movement. That’s how we know the Russkies have him.”
“What you’re saying is that the CIA just stood by calmly and watched while the Russians made off with Jonathan Relevant! Oswald, how the hell can you justify that?”
“Strom.”
“Strom?” The President was brought up short. “What do you mean? What has Strom got to do with it?”
“Have you discussed this with Strom, Mr. President?”
“Well, no— You know how busy Strom is. I don’t like to bother him with—”
“Then I must tell you, Mr. President, that Strom saw certain advantages to allowing the Russians to kidnap Jonathan Relevant. At the last minute it was his decision that the CIA not interfere.”
“His decision? But shouldn’t you have consulted me?”
The President grimaced at the pain of a sudden hemorrhoid spasm and made the conscious effort necessary to control his sphincter muscles.
“There wasn’t time to go through channels, Mr. President.”
“Well, at least you could have kept me informed,” the President grumbled.
“That’s why I’m here, Mr. President.”
“All right then.” The President shifted his weight on the rubber tire on which he was sitting. “Why does Strom think we should let the Russians have Relevant?”
“Because of his evaluation of reports received which detail the effect of Jonathan Relevant on both the people and institutions with which he has come in contact. What it adds up to, Mr. President, is that Jonathan Relevant disturbs the status quo. Strom had the Condom-Inium Think Tank do a rush projection on the future effect of Jonathan Relevant on this country and the extrapolation indicated he would be a decidedly disruptive force. It also implied that he would be equally disruptive in terms of other societies, specifically communist societies. So, when the Russkies grabbed him, Strom decided we should let them have him. In short, Jonathan Relevant may be a most valuable weapon for Americanism in Russia, while in the United States the likelihood is that he’d cause problems.”
“Well, if Strom thinks that’s the right course . . . But,” the President remembered with a hemorrhoidal spasm that brought beads of sweat to his forehead, “how do we explain our inability to produce Jonathan Relevant to the UN?”
“That’s easy, Mr. President.” Oswald was smug. “We simply prove to them that the Russians kidnapped him.”
“But suppose the Russians deny it? How can we prove it?”
“We show them the pictures the CIA took of the Russians forcing Jonathan Relevant aboard a Soviet plane.”
“Do you have these pictures?”
Oswald glanced at his watch. “They were being developed when I left headquarters to come over here. I left instructions for a courier to bring them as soon as they were ready. He should be here now. If you’ll give me just a moment, Mr. President, I’ll step outside and see if he’s arrived.”
“All right, Oswald.”
Oswald left the room and returned almost immediately with a brown manila envelope. “Here they are, Mr. President.” He handed the Chief Executive the envelope.
The President opened it and took out several eight-by-ten glossies. He studied the first a moment, then looked at the second. More quickly now, he flipped through the rest of them. “Oh, no!” He slammed the pictures down on his desk.
“What is it, Mr. President?”