Chapter 92: The Magdalene?

July 23, 1997, London, England

“I’m still married,” I replied. “But I won’t say ‘no’.”

“If there were anything more obvious in the universe than that, I’m not sure what it might be!”

“I’m not quite sure how to take that,” I replied.

“How I meant it!”

I chuckled, “Sadly, I’m not a mind reader. That said, I do recall that three years ago when I said ‘I hate fucking lawyers’ you corrected me by saying I would like it a lot, AND you said you would like it, too. You also said married guys were a problem, but you qualified that by saying I wasn’t a normal married guy. You also told me I was ‘good looking, in great shape, have the most amazing eyes’ and that you had a strong suspicion I knew my way around female anatomy.”

“You remember all that?”

“It’s in my journals. I read the relevant parts this afternoon.”

“With the evidence you have, what’s your conclusion?”

“That we should turn around, go back to the hotel, and prove to each other what we both suspect to be true.”

“And what’s that?”

“That we’ll have some of the best sex either of us has had in a long, long time.”

“You have a very high opinion of yourself!”

“And would you go to bed with someone who doubted themselves or thought they were lousy in bed?”

“No!” Magda laughed. “But I suspect YOU would, because you would take it as a challenge and show them just how wrong they were!”

“It’s been known to happen,” I replied.

“I do think you’re overestimating things.”

“How so?”

“I’ve had some damned good sex recently and I am positive you have as well,” Magda declared.

“You don’t want me to tell you that it was the best ever?”

“Not if it’s a lie. Do you want me to lie to you?”

“Of course not.”

“So if it’s not up to par, and I tell you, it won’t hurt your ego?”

“Only if you don’t tell me what I did poorly and give me a chance to rectify my failings!” I said lightly.

“And would you be upset if I told you I was just messing with you?”

I shook my head, “No, because I had no expectations other than having a few drinks and catching up with a friend. And I’m pretty sure those were your expectations as well, given how we left things last time.”

“Even with what I said about you?” Magda asked.

“Just because we want to do something and can do it, doesn’t mean we should do it.”

“I have a few clients who need to hear that from someone besides me! Acting on every random thought which enters your head tends to get you in trouble time and time again. And doing everything you want without considering the ramifications is another sure way to get into trouble.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. You did miss out on something by deciding not to do it three years ago.”

“Besides doing it? What?”

“You could have been my first,” I replied. “Lawyer, that is.”

“Seriously? You’d never slept with a lawyer?”

“I told you I hated fucking lawyers,” I grinned. “But that was only theoretical. I discovered there was at least one lawyer I liked fucking. So now I think your statement was probably correct, that I WOULD like fucking the gorgeous blonde lawyer with the smoking hot body who is walking next to me.”

“Then I’ll give you a choice. We can spend the next couple of hours drinking in the pub, or we can go back to the hotel and spend the next couple of hours fucking.”

“You’re indifferent as to which?” I asked.

“I didn’t say that. I said you had a choice.”

“Have you had a recent STD test?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’d like you to be my second lawyer!” I said.

I took her hand and we turned around and headed back to the Mayfair InterContinental.

July 24, 1997, London, England

I woke on Thursday morning spooned with Magda, my hand cupping her firm, full breast, and her blonde hair tickling my cheek. Unlike my time with Sari, which had been gentle and sweet lovemaking, Magda and I had simply fucked each other silly until we collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied heap about 3:00am. I couldn’t think of a position we hadn’t tried, nor were there any unexplored areas of either of our bodies.

She stirred a few minutes later, just in advance of the alarm ringing.

“«Fy Fan! Jag vill inte gå ut ur sängen!»” she groused. (“Damn it! I don’t want to get out of bed!”)

“I offered to go to sleep after what I think it was the third time, about midnight!” I teased.

“You also had your tongue in my pussy at the time!”

“I did not!” I protested. “I took it out to tell you we could go to sleep!”

“Right! A guy is going down on me, one who knows female anatomy really well, and I’m going to say ‘oh sure, stop doing that, I want to sleep’? I don’t think so!”

“Get out of bed, we’ll shower, have breakfast, and after you go to the office, I’ll run.”

“Lunch and dinner today?”

“Sure.”

“And another night like last night?”

“Only a fool would say ‘no’ to that!”

“Karin might say you were.”

“With good cause, too. How much do you know about us?”

“Not much, really. She’s told me only the barest details. I probably know more about you and her sister than I do about you and Karin.”

“I can’t violate her privacy, but tell her I told you it’s OK for her to share anything she feels appropriate. If she wants to call to check, that’s OK.”

We got out of bed, showered individually, dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast.

“What will you do today? I mean besides run?” Magda asked in Swedish after we got our food from the buffet.

“After lunch I’m going to do some shopping,” I replied, continuing the conversation in her native tongue. “The kids always appreciate when I bring them small mementos from my travels.”

“Would you be OK with room service?” she asked. “That gives us more time.”

“It does. And I like your thinking! Do you have to go to the office in the morning?”

“Yes. What time is your flight?”

“11:00am. Yours?”

“4:00pm.”

“How is your case going? I never had the chance to ask last night.”

“It’s actually not in court; we’re trying to avoid that. I think we’ll have a signed agreement today. It’s just a matter of ensuring the agreement will be OK with both governments so there aren’t any issues with the child going back and forth between the UK and Sweden, and figuring out who pays for what, and so on.”

“You seem to run into lots of Swedish girls who sleep with foreign guys,” I grinned.

“Oh stop! I am NOT having your baby!”

“That would be a biological impossibility, so unless the Archangel Gabriel had a chat with you while I was in the shower, I wouldn’t worry too much, Mary.”

Magda laughed softly, “And last night we practiced her trade!”

I shook my head, “No. That’s a common misunderstanding which resulted in conflating other characters from the Gospels with Mary Magdalene. She was, most likely, a relatively wealthy woman who supported Jesus’ ministry, but she was absolutely not the ‘sinful woman’. The misunderstanding is a result of Roman Catholic error, which can be seen in the fact that the Orthodox churches never made the association of sexual sin with the Magdalene. The Roman Catholic Church eventually fixed that error, but the popular belief is still there.”

“I’ve been to church for my own baptism, my confirmation, three weddings and two funerals.”

“So in other words, a typical Swedish Lutheran,” I replied.

“Pretty much. I know the popularized stories, which means I probably have more bad information than good, if you will.”

“What about the Norse gods?” I asked.

Magda laughed, “You still have your fetish for Loki?”

“Karin must have told you that one!”

“She did. She finds it amusing.”

“I’m sure she does! I swore off traveling after my trip to Russia, but I think I’m going to have to get back to Sweden. I haven’t seen my friends there in quite some time. I miss seeing Karin, Katt, Tina, Pia, and their families.”

“Not because of a certain lawyer from Luleå?” she asked.

“I was very happy to run into you again, and I don’t mean just because of last night. We became friends in those few days we spent together three years ago. Rekindling the friendship is a good thing. Fate has been dealing me a much better hand lately.”

“The kindling worked! It was pretty warm last night!”

“It was,” I agreed.

“Is there anything you won’t do?” she asked.

“I’m completely straight, and don’t like heavy bondage or serious pain, and I have zero interest in ‘water sports’ but otherwise? What do YOU think?”

Magda laughed softly, “When you let me play with you with my vibrator, it was pretty clear! Only one other guy has dared let me do that.”

“What happened to the other guy?”

“My second lover. And the one who bought me the vibrator. I had just turned seventeen, and he was twenty-five.”

“May I ask about your first?”

“My next-door neighbor. We’d grown up together and were really close. We decided that we’d celebrate my fifteenth birthday by giving each other our virginities. For the next six months we screwed like bunnies, but something was off. I could never quite figure out what it was, and one day he said he thought we should stop having sex. To this day, I still don’t know why. I wasn’t in love with him, so it wasn’t devastating. What hurt more was losing my friend, because once we stopped having sex, we drifted apart.”

“Perhaps he was in love with you,” I said quietly.

“I thought that might have been the case, but why not tell me? Even at fifteen I wasn’t a silly romantic. I liked him, a lot, and who knows where things might have gone.”

“Maybe he was afraid? He was fifteen after all.”

“Sixteen; but possibly. Anyway, I was confused, so I basically swore off sex for a time. I dated, but never let anyone do more than kiss me. Then I met Anders and we were literally in bed a few minutes after we met. The sex was glorious and I let him lead. I guess the phrase would be he ‘took me on a sexual odyssey’. For two years, we did everything, more or less within the limits you gave. And then it kind of flamed out because it was ONLY sex. Since then, I’ve had a number of short-term lovers, and a few long-term ones.”

“Kids?”

“I can take or leave the idea,” Magda said. “And Karin’s advice is that if that was my attitude, I probably shouldn’t. I love my freedom, I love being able to do what I want when I want with whom I want. Even with all the state support, having a child is still an obligation I’m not sure I want to take on.”

“I think I have to agree with Karin on that one.”

“My turn to ask - when was your first?”

“When I was fourteen, She was a twenty-three-year-old widow.”

“Every teenage boy’s wet dream! Birgit Andersson was after her?”

“Yes. And just once before she went home to Sweden. I never saw her again after that.”

“Then, may I ask about when you got adventurous?”

I chuckled, “Everything we did last night, with the exception of the vibrator, I did when I was fourteen. The vibrator thing was when I was sixteen.”

“You had anal sex at fourteen?”

I nodded, “Yes. And two, three, and four girls at a time.”

“«Herre gud!»” she declared, shaking her head. “Your first?” (“Jesus Christ!”)

“No, it was pretty simple and sweet with her, just oral sex and intercourse. And it lasted less than two months because she knew we could never have a relationship. The craziness started when I took up with a future lawyer! But we broke up long before college, let alone her passing the Bar!”

“When did you decide you weren’t going to live a conventional life?”

“When I was fourteen,” I replied. “But I did try, on a few occasions, to conform to social norms. Those attempts generally ended in some sort of chaos or even disaster. Believe it or not, my life is calmer, and much more well-ordered when I’m what society would call ‘promiscuous’.”

“A major failing of America,” Magda said. “Everyone is so hung up on what other people do in the bedroom. Why should it matter who I have sex with? That’s my business, not theirs. Swedes, for the most part, can’t be bothered to worry about things like that.”

“You and I are on the same page on that. My kids are being raised with ideas which are much closer to Swedish ones than American ones. I have a sauna in my house and we, and our closest friends, use it Swedish style, including with our kids.”

“You certainly have a much healthier view on sex than the Americans I meet through work. Do you know what pisses me off the most?”

“That they think because you’re sexually liberated, you’re easy, and you’ll sleep with anyone.”

“I slept with YOU, didn’t I?” she teased.

“There’s no accounting for taste,” I chuckled. “Maybe it was a weak moment!”

“Maybe! But yes, you’re right. There was an attorney from New York with whom I was working to help an American man move to Sweden to get married. The attorney simply assumed that because I was a blonde Swede, that meant I’d go to bed with him. I’ve only ever had to slap one man in my entire life, and it was him.”

“A front snap kick to the groin would have been more appropriate.”

“I agree, but the circumstances would have made that difficult.”

“Did you file a complaint?”

She smiled, “I told his wife.”

“Ouch! How did you meet her?”

“She was with him on the trip!”

“Moron,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’m curious, do you have to report in, or do you get to keep your affairs secret?”

“I tell my wives who I’ve been with. It’s a small check that keeps me honest and ensures I pay attention to the rules.”

“Mind if I ask?”

“Nobody they work with, nobody I work with, nobody at the dojo. There CAN be exceptions, but they are rare, and have to be carefully considered.”

“Can they tell you who not to be with?”

I nodded, “Yes, but generally speaking, the ones they wouldn’t want me to be with I wouldn’t want to be with for my own reasons.”

“Do they have the same freedom?”

“Yes, but they elect not to use it.”

“Ever?”

“So far. Each of them has their own reasons, but it’s not because I’d be upset about it.”

“I can’t imagine you being that big of a hypocrite, given what I know about you and what you’ve said about how you’re raising your kids.”

“People have been known to act contrary to their own beliefs.”

“Obviously, and I see that all the time in family and immigration law. I just don’t get that vibe from you. You seem to be pretty much an open book.”

“I try.”

We finished our breakfast, Magda went to work and I ran and practiced my kata, drawing an audience, as the park was more crowded than when I ran at an earlier point in the day as I had previously. I did a few extra kata beyond my normal routine to give them something more to see, and when I finished, they applauded. I thanked them and headed back to the hotel for a shower.

Magda and I met for lunch as planned, and then I went to do my shopping. Finding the right things for each of the kids was always an interesting challenge, but some things were easy. For Matthew, a CD of the Original London Cast recording of Les Misérables. For Stephie, the only possible choice was a stuffed animal I found - a bunny wearing a ‘Beefeater’ hat. The rest were trickier, but by the end of the afternoon, I’d found something for each of the kids, my wives, and Maria Cristina. I’d repeat the exercise in Moscow or Saint Petersburg, filling the empty space I’d kept in my luggage for the loot I wanted to bring home.

On the way back to the hotel, I stopped in a confectionary shop and bought some chocolates for Magdalena, something nearly every Swede I knew loved, and something I knew Magda would appreciate. I arrived back in Mayfair just before 5:00pm, and had just finished packing my purchases when Magda arrived. We had a wonderful evening in the room with dinner, sex, and lots of talking.

July 25, 1997, Moscow, Russia

When I walked off the plane at «Международный аэропорт Шереметьево», I was greeted by a young man in an expensive, Italian-cut suit. (“Sheremetyevo International Airport”)

“Mr. Adams? I’m Lev Kerensky, from the Foreign Ministry.”

I nodded and we shook hands.

“Any relation?” I asked.

He smiled, “Ivan Konstantinovich said you would ask. My great-grandfather’s brother. Will you come this way, please?”

I followed him through two security doors to a private office where my passport was stamped, and my visa was verified.

“Just making sure it’s in order,” Lev said. “We don’t want any trouble from the local authorities or the hotel if something is amiss.”

“Thanks.”

“Your bags will be in the car. I’m to escort you to the hotel and ensure there are no issues. Dima Sergeyevich will meet you there. Your son arrived about three hours ago.”

“Did they get the same reception?” I asked.

“Yes, three people from the foreign ministry met them and they were cleared just as you were.”

We left the office, walked down a hallway, turned to walk down another long hallway, and then after going through two security doors, were on the pavement outside the airport where a Mercedes was waiting for us. We got in and the driver immediately pulled away, heading for the Moscow Hotel.

Just over an hour later, I had checked into my room, unpacked, and then gone to a banquet room where the team was just sitting down to dinner. I greeted Dima, then went to sit with Jesse.