Chapter 32

As we entered October, I was happy that I was doing so well in my classes. They weren't as much fun as they were when I was at Emerson. I not only had to know the material to do well, it was much harder, because I had to learn it all in Russian. Sophia came up to me in class, and thanked me, for taking care of her mother.

She said, "After I came home my Mom cried for an hour. In all her sexual life, she'd never before felt the feelings that you drew from her body. She thought that I'd exaggerated when I told her about you, but afterwards she felt robbed of a lifetime of pleasure. When we talk about it, she was, and still is sad. I don't know if it was worse not knowing, or now knowing what's out there. She wants me to run away with you, because I can't stay here, and be with you."

"Can you go to college out of the country? Can you come to America or Great Britain? You speak, English well."

"I don't think that I'd be let out of the Soviet Union to go to school."

"That's too bad, because I don't think I'll go to school here. But I could easily become used to sharing a bed with you. Except that you snore."

"I don't snore, you ass."

"You keep telling yourself that, Sweetie."

She gave me a smile, and then class started.

That Friday night, we started our volleyball tournament. On Friday and Saturday, we played a couple of teams that we'd beaten before. The next week we started on Wednesday night. The plan called for us to play every night until we lost. We didn't lose, so we kept playing. On Saturday night, we beat the last of the public schools in our region. In the Soviet Union, they have schools that they set up just for athletics. They set these schools up to train those that could make the future Olympic and National teams. The schedule called for us to play the latest champion of the athletic schools. This was supposedly a big deal. They set it up as they did with the Harlem Globe Trotters. We were the great champion team who'd come in, and the USSR High School National Team, would then beat us.

Our coach told us to try our best, and to keep our heads up. She left the meeting room, and went out to the court where they'd introduce us. I looked around at my teammates, and asked, "Have we been beaten by anyone this year? Have we worked together, as a team, to unselfishly punish, and beat every team we've played? Should we just give up now, or should we at least try to kick their asses? I wore a USSR t-shirt to race in, and we won. I put that on to say that not only Americans can win. Well I say the National team is not the only ones that can win. If you don't think you can win, don't want to try to win, or don't want to kick there asses, and show them that they can lose, then you should leave. Just put on your street clothes, and sit in the stands, because I don't want you on the court with me."

We took the first serve. Uri was very comfortable with and accustomed to the hard serves, because he'd practiced on mine, and this guy's serve wasn't as hard as mine was. Boris back set me as we'd done in another game, and I hit that ball, as hard as I could at the head of the setter. It hit him on top of the head, and bounced high up in the stands. All the people who came to party with the National Team went dead silent. The only thing you could hear was our fans from the 722, as they shouted for our play.

Because they were a very good team, they didn't fall apart after that opening shot and quit. Both teams came well prepared for the match. They each played extremely hard. We won the first game 21-17. It became clear that they used many of our tactics, but we were both ready to not only play, but to play hard. They won the second game 21-19. I got in a groove during the third game, and served ten straight points on my serve. This made them quite frustrated. So when it was Boris' turn to serve, he scored five more points. We won that game 21-9. Some of the fans changed over to cheer, for the underdogs. But, sad to say, many more started to boo the National Team. They were responding to the poor play and of all the resources funneled to those schools, so that the USSR could shine in the Olympics.

In the fourth game, we lost another close game 21-19 to make it a winner take all in the fifth and final game. There was a break between the games, and I saw one of the officials talking, and then yelling at our coach. I think that they wanted her to throw the game to save face. Two things happened during that last game. Both involved me.

I was serving, and during my serve, I start my jump almost five feet behind the base line. This way I can keep my serve from going over their end line. I was on my first serve, and the Referee called me for a foot fault. Unless I landed before I hit the ball, it was impossible for me to foot fault. The ref called it, and we had no recourse. As the game proceeded, there were some other questionable calls. But we continued to hang in there. I'd rotated around, and I was in position to serve next. We were down 16-14 when I went up to block their big spiker. In doing the block, I took the full force of the ball on my previously injured pinky. To my dismay, the finger dislocated again.

Someone took a picture of me calling time out with my finger bent at almost a ninety-degree angle at my knuckle. I just grabbed the thing, and popped it back in place. It hurt like crazy, but I was ready to play. I'd gotten the block back to their side, and now it was my turn to serve.

The referees and the tournament official stopped the match. They said that since I had taken a medical time out that I'd have to sit out one rotation. In addition, they insisted that I have an x-ray taken before I could return. I argued that it wasn't a medical time out, but just a regular time out. They wouldn't listen, and made me sit down. When the next rotation came, they still wouldn't let me re-enter the game. My team tried, but we lost the game at 21-16. That was also the match.

The stands were full of boos from all sides, and everyone saw it, for what it was. I knew that it wasn't the other team's fault. So I was the first one to walk over, shake their hands, and congratulate them on a good match. They felt as if they weren't given the chance to win fairly. They knew that it was the officials, and not the players or coaches that were rigging the game. I doubt that anyone would give them the same consideration in the Olympics.

Even with the loss, our fans continued to cheer us. We'll never know if we had played heads up who'd have won, but our season was over. We went out, and had dinner as a team. After the loss, I would've worried about the coach. But with the players on our team, and the family connections, I was more worried about the official. He was the one who had cheated to save his ass, and his program.

Now that the volleyball season was over, I suddenly realized that I hadn't swum since I left New Hampshire. In spite of that, the next season for me was swimming. I had two weeks until our first swim practice. Most of the guys wanted to play hockey, so the swimming team was light on guys. Of course, plenty of girls wanted to swim in the water. There's no question that I love watching girls in swimsuits, so I was happy when the season started.

There were two weeks between school sessions. So I took time to relax, and to refocus on school. I wanted to continue with my straight "A's." With the down time, I could now focus on a track to reach that goal.

During that same time, I received another software upgrade for the word processor. Every evening during the two weeks off from school, I walked over to Olga's house with the new software. I installed the new software and downloaded the history of documents they had typed on each machine since the last upgrade. As previously agreed to, they also gave me a report from the person using each machine.

All the enhanced features were already standard on the English version. We could have added them all at once on the Russian version, but by breaking up the updates, the CIA could receive more information more often. There was no way that I wanted to know what information they found on the discs. This way I could always have plausible deniability, and could act natural around everyone that I met.

I didn't read the reports that I photographed at Sophia's house. I never had to act weird around her except for the fact that I'd broken inside her dad's safe and slept with her mom. Maybe I should act weirder around her.

They sent the reports and discs off in the daily embassy bag. I always had a few visitors. With each one, I continued to provide American-made stuff, and continued to collect USSR merchandise. As before, the denims and albums were the biggest draws. Sometimes, I also ordered some Walkman's and tapes, for those that had the right stuff to trade. One girl had a Faberge brooch that she wanted to trade. She'd inherited it from her grandmother. There was no way that I wanted to trade her, but she insisted. I knew that the diamonds and sapphires were worth a lot, but the name of the jeweler made it worth so much more.

She wanted five pairs of jeans. I got her the jeans, new underwear, and some albums. She was so happy, but I still felt like I was ripping her off. I knew that in twenty years the jeans would be gone, or not fit. The underwear would be tattered, and the music would be out of style. I'd still have a piece of jewelry that continued to grow in value.

When swim practice started, I found my schedule became a little hectic. Since our school didn't have its own pool, we had to travel to use the city pool. We had a scheduled time to practice at the pool. Although other schools and athletic schools used the same pool, most of the time we had the pool to ourselves. During other times, we'd split the pool with another team.

I wished that we had a fixed schedule, but it wasn't. Sometimes we'd have to race over right after class. Other nights we were the last to leave at eleven o'clock. I was glad that the pool was only around two kilometers from our apartment.

Our coach, for the swim team, was a woman named Eva Ushington. She'd swum on the Olympic team five years before, but wasn't the top person on the team. She had that long and lean swimmers body with long brown hair, and brown eyes. This was her job she did for the country. She took it very seriously as everyone did.

She didn't like that I showed up wearing board shorts, or an American style bathing suit. It seems that all the European men wore Speedos all the time. I took the verbal abuse, and told her that I'd look to see if I could find a pair. Of course, that night, we closed the pool at eleven. We then had school the following morning before racing to start practice right after school. She was angry that I showed up wearing the same bathing suit, as the day before. I tried to explain, but she didn't want to hear it.

She got everyone started, and then asked me to follow her to the office area. She went to the lost and found box and pulled out a pair of Speedos. She told me to put them on, and dive in the pool. Those things fit around my waist, but were too small everywhere else. I didn't want to show her up, but didn't want to walk out in that suit, so I put my other bathing suit on top of that one, and went back out to the pool deck. She saw me, as I walked over to explain, and she just screamed. Everyone was quiet at her outburst. When I tried to explain, she said that she wanted to see the problem. At that point, everyone had stopped, and watched, as I dropped my bathing suit. I was glad that it was me, and not someone else that had less comfort with their body.

The suit was so tight on me that it stretched the already thin material. You could see every vein in my cock, and it wasn't even hard. Half of my ass hung out the back, and in the front, my pubic hair curled out from the sides. I didn't want to say I told you so, but the look on her face was one of both, being ashamed for making me do this, and lust. She tried to save face, told me to dive in the pool, and swim a thousand meters.

If anything, the water made the suit more transparent. At the end of practice, when I got out of the pool for the team meeting, I didn't have a towel. The coach and many of the swimmers kept glancing at my cock, and me. I just let them look. I didn't bother to put my other suit on, but carried it with me to the locker room.

The guys told me that the coach was just being a bitch. So I just showered and changed. I still needed to find an acceptable suit somewhere. If I ordered one through the State Department, it would take at least three days before it arrived. The problem took an interesting twist when I found one of my teammates waiting for me outside of the locker room. Her name was Irina Minkin. She was a year behind me in school. When I saw her, I realized that we didn't have any classes together.

She came up to me, and said, "My father has ten or twelve suits, and he never swims. He's about your size if you want to come over we can find a pair that fits."

There was one thing that I liked less than wearing a Speedo. It was wearing other people's swimsuits. But, after my experience over the last two days, I didn't have many choices. I'd do anything to fall back inside the shadows. So I agreed, and followed her to her apartment.

Irina's family was like most of the kids in our school. She came from a family that was well off, and high-ranking in the country's politics. Her father was a high-ranking officer in the military. He had a post outside the country. Her mother was a nurse who worked at the local hospital. It turned out that Irina was an only child. So, when we walked inside her apartment, it was empty.

She wasn't going to make this easy on me. See insisted that she see each suit, as I tried them on. When she decided which one she wanted to give me, she then wanted to clean me up. My mind jumped to Wendy, my sweet chocolate bunny, who shaved everyone clean, and then gave them a happy-ending.

After thinking about it, I agreed if she'd let me return the favor. I stood in front of her, as she trimmed, and shaved me. It wasn't bald as Wendy would do, but she trimmed it much shorter. She held my stiffening cock while she focused on her task before using her hand to jack me off. When I was about to cum, she dropped her lips to my penis, and took the ejaculation in her mouth.