The Russian Dream

Date: October 8th, 2007 (Turkey Day!)
Notes: 1) This is a shameless self-insertion fic. It was me in the dream and I had a lot of fun. When I woke up, the story kept on writing itself, so of course it had to come out of my head. If you don't like self-inserts, don't read, but I will tell you, there will be no superpowers, saving the world, Mary Sue crap (I reserve that for my sci-fi).
2) I don't like the name I have given this fic. It's not elegant enough for me. Just too simple. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd take them into consideration.
3) This is not a PWP. There is a story line here, and it will take a couple chapters to et to the smut. Oh, but it is good smut.
4) Don't expect regular updates. The inspiration has been a bitch lately. I got the story board in my head, it's getting it into words that's the problem.
5) I must thank Nalani and her story "The House of Alex" that inspired the dream, and I must thank her again for being a beta reader for me. You are the best hon.

Dreaming In Russian

Prologue

Mikahl looked at the glossy photo in his hand. The lovely image of a girl adorned its surface, smiling with a radiance that would have made the sun jealous. She was the perfect image of feminine beauty, at least in Mikahl’s opinion. Admiring the girl Mikahl sighed and ran his hand through his chocolately brown hair.

It was true that she was not the epitome of beauty as decreed by Hollywood. She lacked the artificial tan, the blonde hair, and wore not a speck of make up. There was not one thing artificial about her. Nor was there no one thing about her that was perfect. The whole sum was what made her perfect. All the unique parts of her added together, smoothed over with a self-confidence that did not lend itself to arrogance were what made her perfect. It was also what initially peaked his interest in her. Who would have thought that he, Mikahl Alexandr Stroganova, would have found his future wife in a fast food restaurant in a foreign country while on vacation. Of all the places to find her. He hated the greasy foods North Americans indulged in. He knew what that kind of fare would do to a body and he was not interested in turning into something as lumpy as most North Americans. It was only one of his friends that dragged him into the establishment. For that Mikahl was ready to make him his best man at the wedding.

The girl, Marie, was one of the managers working that day. She had been dealing with a disgruntled customer. Her manner to the untrained eye was professional patience but to Mikahl she read totally differently. He had not become wealthy without knowing how to read his business associates. Her shoulders were tense and her smile was forced. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice, but she was doing an admirable job of hiding it.

Eventually the customer was satisfied by whatever Marie had done and left. It was then that she saw him for the first time. Apparently the cashier that had taken his order was not moving fast enough for her, something he wholeheartedly agreed with up until that moment. She assembled his order in seconds and all he could do was stare at her. Then she smiled at him. It was not the false smile she had used with the asinine customer moments ago. This one was genuine, if a little shy.

The conversation following had been brief, merely consisting of a rather nosy employee asking where he was from and what he was doing in Canada. Only for the sake of trying to engage in more of this Marie’s time did he answer. He was looking at her when he spoke as if she had been the one to ask the question.

“I am from Russia,” his English was perfect even if it was heavily tainted with his accent. “I am here on vacation after business in America. I love your fishing.”

The girl had smiled even wider at that and Mikahl knew he had said something right. “Where have you been? Fishing I mean.” Her voice was quiet, like she could not believe she had asked. Mikahl had amended his assessment of her then. She was confident and self-assured in a formal setting, but with anything less so she became shy. It was cute and endearing.

“I have been many places, but have not been able to keep many fish before reaching your province. Bad water.”

“Ah,” she said. “There are a few spots around here, and one in the neighboring province that I often go to.” She blushed then, almost over come with embarrassment. Mikahl was amazed at yet another facet of her that was revealed. His interest focused on her exclusively and he returned to the counter.

“You fish?” he tried not to sound incredulous. It was not often that he heard of a woman participating in a man’s sport.

“Yes, I do. Catch and release stuff. I don’t actually eat it.” Mikahl could see that she wasn’t so embarrassed anymore. She just needed time to warm up to people. He hung on her every word, not even realizing then that he would become obsessed with her. He tried to draw out as much about her as possible without scaring her off. He felt himself drawn to this girl unlike any other woman he had ever met or courted.

“Where do you fish? Is it a good place?” Mikahl asked appearing eager to try the place himself.

At this she smiled, her eyes sparkling. She shrugged her shoulders while saying, “If you’re not me, or with me, it’s a good place.” She let out a small stifled laugh before continuing. “There’s a lot of jack and pickerel. Perch galore, but they mostly just steal your bait.”

“Where is this place?” There was genuine interest on Mikahl’s part in learning where this place was, though he wasn’t interested in the fishing anymore.

Innocently, Marie told him which highways to follow and that he would need a fishing license for that particular province. He assured her that he already had one and thanked her for the tip.

As Mikahl and his friend left she called out after them, “Welcome to Canada, and have a safe trip.” It was an endearing invocation that had Mikahl smiling as he waved good bye. In the safely of their rented truck Mikahl told his friend about his plan.

He knew he had just met this, the girl of his dreams and he would have her. He set up camp at in the provincial park that she told him about and waited. Going up to the river everyday in the afternoon, he waited patiently. He saw her a few days later at the fishing spot she suggested. It was a nice place and things might have gone differently if she had not come with a friend. He had planned on “accidentally” meeting her there, spending some time getting to know her.

Plans can fail and so Mikahl, like a good businessman adapted to the situation. Instead of approaching her, he simply observed her. Out there all pretences of reserve were stripped away, and Marie’s true personality shone through. She laughed freely with her friend, and swore like a sailor, the only thing that gave Mikahl pause. Her hair was let out of the tight, unimaginative braid that had held it at work and it blew freely in the wind. Eventually its length must have annoyed Marie, because she pulled it back into a careless ponytail.

It was after dark when the two girls packed up and left, Marie getting into the driver’s seat of the little red hatchback. It was a newer model and Mikahl’s hopes dropped dreading that she would still be living with her parents. She was young, but he hadn’t thought she was that young. Still, driving such a new car? He didn’t think it was possible on her pay scale if she was living on her own.

That had been the last time he had seen Marie in person. Though his business had called him back to Russia shortly after the day at the river he had hired an experienced private investigator. After months of work and research, Mikahl had sent his trusted friend to be brought up to date on everything that had been know and to gain first hand accounts of her routines. Mikahl wanted to know as much about Marie as could be possible before he set his plan in motion.