“Tag? May I come in?” she asked.
“Absolutely, but you should know that…”
Before I could finish warning her about my state of undress, she stepped inside and immediately froze when she saw that I was naked and in plain view.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just bringing you a towel and didn’t realize you were—um—naked,” she said.
“It’s OK. We’re all adults here.”
“Yes, and I should have known better,” she said, as she tossed me the towel and looked particularly embarrassed as she tried to avert her eyes.
I unfolded it and went to wrap it around my waist and let out a little laugh when I noticed her sneaking a peak at my gentleman region. She also laughed, and it suddenly felt like an awkward sitcom moment.
“I’m sorry if my eyes have a tendency to wander, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been in the presence of a naked man,” she said.
“I would think a woman as beautiful as you would have men lined up out the door just dying to show you their goodies.”
“I’m afraid that’s not the case. My independent nature makes dating in my culture a bit more difficult, and, unfortunately for me, one of the few men I have connected with is your friend Farid.”
“Well then, you should come to America, where I can guarantee you’ll have a date every night of the week—preferably with me.”
She blushed and gave me a flirtatious smile.
“Perhaps I should visit America.”
“Perhaps you should move there.”
She smiled again.
“Something to think about,” she said, as she grabbed my pile of soiled clothes and left.
Now that I was alone, I dried off and got dressed before grabbing my things and heading out to the living room. I took a seat on the couch and, a minute later, was joined by Farid, who was looking a hell of a lot better. He took a seat on the nearby chair while Afshid arrived a moment later and asked if we would like some tea. Farid and I both said yes, and she excused herself and walked out of the room, whereupon my eyes unintentionally fell on the sweet curves of her backside. It was a lovely, and, combined with all the other attributes of my hostess, made me wish I had the time to get to know her better.
“Dude, you might be Iran’s most brilliant nuclear physicist, but you are a dumbass when it comes to the ladies. What the hell were you thinking when you disappeared?” I asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“And one where you majorly fucked up,” I said, quietly.
Afshid suddenly appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, carrying the tray with our tea.
“Thank you for the sentiments, Tag. At least someone appreciates me,” she said.
Apparently she also had exceptional hearing to go with her other assets. She placed the tray on the coffee table, and her backside hovered before my eyes for a brief though wonderful moment before she took a seat beside me and proceeded to hand us each a cup of tea.
“Thank you, it’s delicious,” I said, after taking a sip.
“You’re welcome. Now, before you ask for this favor—do you mind telling me why you two looked like hell when you arrived?”
“Car accident,” I said.
“Are you OK?” she asked, looking concerned.
“Yeah, we’re fine. Thankfully, we weren’t involved. We just stopped to help after a dust storm caused a massive pileup on the highway.”
“Farid too?”
“Asshole here risked his life to rescue a baby from a burning car.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be—he was a real hero today.”
“It was a team effort,” he said.
Afshid took another sip of tea then turned to Farid.
“So, why are you here? What could you possibly need from me?” she asked.
“To borrow a car.”
She laughed out loud.
“Oh, but of course,” she said.
“I’m serious,” Farid said, tensely.
“I’m afraid he’s telling the truth. You see, I’m here to help Asshole escape from the country, and we just lost our ride back at the car accident. We only have a small window of opportunity before they expand the search and eventually capture us, which, as you probably know, means we’ll most likely be executed.”
“Well, probably not me, I’m too important—but Finn for sure,” Farid said.
Afshid looked at Farid for a moment then turned back to me before she spoke.
“I’ll loan you a car—but only because of you, Tag. Honestly, I could care less what happens to Asshole.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“So, Tag, you are a guest in my home. Would you like to eat while I finish washing your clothes?”
“Absolutely,” I said at the exact moment that Farid said no.
“Don’t we need to keep moving?” he asked.
“I’m afraid that my favorite shirt is in the laundry, and, besides, I learned in the service that you always rest and eat when you can, but, more importantly, I learned from James Bond that you never turned down the offer of a beautiful woman.”
Farid rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch as Afshid got up and headed into the kitchen.”
“Need any help?” I asked.
“Absolutely. You can slice up the vegetables.”
I joined her in the kitchen and stood on the other side of the center island and watched as she made a wonderful smelling marinade then placed in a couple of plump looking chicken breasts. She sprinkled on a little salt and pepper then took a moment to talk, leaning forward with her hands on the counter, the gesture inadvertently pressing her breasts together and emphasizing her enticing cleavage.
“I hope you like chicken,” she said.
“I do—especially the white meat. I’m a bit of a breast man,” I responded.
She smiled at my double entendre and made no effort to change her position, thus pushing the sexual tension meter up to about DEFCON 1.
“Well then, let’s put you to work, breast man,” she said, as she placed an onion and a green pepper on the chopping block in front of me.
“So, have you ever had home cooked Persian food?” she asked.
“Never. I’ve only ever eaten it in restaurants.”
“Well, I think you’re going to enjoy it.”
I knew I was going to enjoy it, but mainly because I enjoyed the chef. It wasn’t often in my line of work that I met such a beautiful and interesting woman, so I was happy to be in Afshid’s company and serve as her prep chef. To that end, I cut up the onion and bell pepper, all the while watching as my hostess prepared a rice dish called Adass Polo, which was basically rice mixed with lentils and various spices. It smelled amazing, though I couldn’t help but feel a little wary at the thought of another bout of gas when the lentils kicked in. At least Farid and I would be alone in a car and miles away from our incredibly attractive chef.
As is often the case, cooking with someone was an ideal way to get to know them, and I learned all about my charming hostess. She was a professor of Philosophy and had met Farid when she invited him to be a guest lecturer at her university. Apparently, Quantum Mechanics was revealing new theories about life and the universe, and Afshid wanted to broaden her budding young student’s horizons. One thing led to another, and the two academics ended up having dinner, and later, a night of passion, after which Farid dropped the ball and disappeared, which was truly a bad move in my opinion.
All of the prep work was officially finished, so Afshid reached into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of wine and three glasses.
“I thought alcohol was illegal in Iran,” I said.
“Oh it is, though mostly for Muslims, but the rest of us manage to brew our own or smuggle it in—as is the case with this bottle.”
“Wow, I had no idea,” I said, pleasantly surprised.
“Yes, and were it not for alcohol, how else would I have ended up in bed with Farid?”
“You know I can
hear you!” Farid said, from the living room.
“Yes, I do, now why don’t we go join Asshole and enjoy a glass while dinner finishes cooking.”
We went back into the living room and joined Farid, who was sitting on the couch and looked mildly annoyed as he pretended to read a magazine. Afshid refilled our glasses and poured another for Farid, then we held them up to toast.
“To new friends,” she said, looking at me.
We clinked glasses, and I had a sip of wine and found it was surprisingly good and a welcome respite from an otherwise difficult day. Afshid too had a sip then looked at me with her full lips parting to form a warm smile that made my pulse race and my mind swirl with impure musings. Sweet fire in my loins! She was smart, sexy, and everything a sane man could want in a woman, so it of course made perfect sense that I would meet her while I was on the run in a foreign country—and therefore, in no place to pursue any kind of real relationship. Even worse, I was evading a clever enemy and risking the possibility of a premature death, let alone ejaculation, but that’s how my life seemed to work out lately.
A timer sounded from the kitchen signifying that dinner was ready, so we adjourned to the dining room, and Afshid graciously served up the meal. It took two trips, and, when she was done and seated, we held before our eyes a delicious looking feast—the aroma as lovely as the view.
“To Afshid, for making one of the first home cooked meals I’ve had in a long time. Oh, and to Farid, who made one of the greatest mistakes in his life by letting her get away.”
“Well, thank you, Tag,” she said, tilting her glass towards me.
Afshid’s dark eyes twinkled, and her lips parted into another warm smile as we set about eating and talking until our plates were empty. After the meal, silence settled over the table, and I shared a look with my hostess that seemed to reflect my sadness that our time together was about to come to an end.
“That was absolutely amazing,” I said.
“Yes, that was a lovely meal, but I imagine we’d better be going,” Farid said.
“I’m afraid that Asshole is correct.”
Afshid stood up and began clearing the dishes from the table, and I joined in the effort and brought my plate to the sink, where I stayed and helped pass the dishes to her, which she rinsed and placed in her dishwasher. Once we finished, we joined Farid and began the rather gloomy task of heading out to her driveway. She opened the driver’s side door of her silver Mercedes and grabbed something out of the center console.
“I imagine we can arrange to have the car returned from Turkey,” Farid said.
Afshid laughed.
“Don’t bother.”
Farid look confused.
“I don’t understand. This is a very expensive car,” he said.
“I’m not giving you my Mercedes. I’m giving you my other car, the one that belonged to my mother,” she said, as she held up the object she’d grabbed from her car.
It was a garage door opener, and a subtle smile appeared on her lips as she pressed the button.
The door rattled on its tracks as it slid slowly up towards the ceiling to reveal a small baby shit pink jeep. On closer inspection, it appeared to be some kind of Suzuki, which made sense, considering the fact that Suzuki had a manufacturing plant in Tehran. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about driving around in what looked like a little pink pig, but it was all we had at the moment. Of course, I should feel lucky, as it might be handy to have off-road capability in the event that things get a little hairy at the border, and we need to leave the main highway. She threw me the keys to the jeep, and I sat down in the driver’s seat and turned the key, curious if it would even start. The little engine coughed to life and remained idling dutifully as I backed out of the garage and onto the driveway, where I stepped from of the jeep and held out my arms as I addressed Farid and Afshid.
“I hereby christen this vehicle the Pink Pig!” I proclaimed.
“And I hereby officially approve of that name,” Farid said.
At that point, we both turned our attention to Afshid.
“Thank you for everything,” Farid said, as he went to hug her.
She cut him off by offering up her hand instead, making it very clear she was still angry about how he terminated their relationship. Farid obviously still didn’t understand the whole concept of hell having no fury like a woman scorned, but I suspect this little exchange would help him on his way to enlightenment. They shook hands then it was my turn to say goodbye, so I stepped forward, feeling genuinely sad having to end our time together so soon after meeting.
“Thank you for everything. Maybe someday, I can return the favor and cook for you,” I said.
“I’d like that. Now have a safe journey—and be sure to get the asshole here to his exciting new life in the West,” she said, as she hugged me.
“I’ll try.”
Before letting go, she leaned in and kissed me, and Farid looked as shocked as I felt, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a small parting jab at her ex-lover. Either way, I was happy to take the hit and soon felt a familiar tingling below my waist that was a sure sign that Tag Junior would be up for a much longer visit with my new lady friend. We parted, and I climbed into the driver’s seat and looked at Afshid one last time before waving and pulling out of the driveway and heading back towards the main highway.
“Dude, I seriously don’t understand why you would fuck that up,” I said.
“I know—she’s beautiful, smart, sexy as hell—but I just have this thing for blondes.”
“A brunette in the hand is worth more than a blond bush.”
Farid adjusted his seat back slightly and put his right foot up on the dash, before leaning back and smiling.
“How long do you think it will be before the lentils kick in?” he asked.
“Not long enough.”
I made the final turn onto the freeway, and twenty-seven seconds later, the little jeep topped out at about seventy-five miles per hour, which was about twenty more than I expected or wanted, but at least we would make good time. I took one last look in the rearview mirror and sighed to myself as I thought about the lovely Afshid. She was quite a woman, and it would be nice, although unlikely that I might see her again someday. Sadly, people in my profession didn’t get a lot of time to forge any kind of lasting or meaningful relationships. Perhaps, after this mission, I would take some time off and get a little rest and relaxation and spend some quality time with a member of the opposite sex. Sadly, it was more likely that I’d just end up drinking some beer and watching a movie before waking up the next day to go on my next assignment. The life of a spy was not as glamorous as the movies made it out to be, and I sighed to myself as I turned my attention back to the long lonely road ahead.
CHAPTER NINE
Pink Pig: The Little Jeep that Could
IT WAS GETTING late in the day, and we were driving along the southern end of Lake Urmia only about a half hour from our destination. Off to our right was the lake, or, more accurately, a vast stretch of dried salt in between us and the actual shoreline, which was several hundred yards farther out. Farid explained that the lake had been steadily evaporating for years, and Iranians had been rallying for the government to step up and save this precious wildlife sanctuary. Sadly, it appeared that little was being done, and, as the water level dropped, it left old boats rotting like corpses on the now dry edges of the lake. I was just thinking about how beautiful this place must have been when Farid rudely interrupted my moment of reflection by letting loose his first lentil based assault. I thought falafels were bad, but now I was truly experiencing the full force of his vast methane production potential.
“Oh many pardons, my friend,” he said.
“Fuck you. Do you know there’s an actual cloud hovering around you?”
Farid wafted the air and fanned it towards me while I desperately tried to get my window down. It was one of those old fashioned manual cranks and time and weather had made it particularly diffic
ult to rotate. After a few turns, it finally loosened up a bit and down went the window. It ended up being kind of a futile effort, however, as it now sucked the fart across the car and past my face as it made its way out the window, with my only consolation being that it was at least leaving the jeep. The late afternoon air was now buffeting my face, and, while it might have been a nuisance, it was my lifeline of survival from Farid’s flatulence. Suddenly, another avenue of respite arrived when I felt a subtle gurgling in my stomach and realized that my gas was kicking in, and I would at least be able to retaliate in kind. I rolled up my window and smiled as I prepared to add a taste of my own seasoning to the stew, which would make the air in the car a little more bearable for me and a lot less bearable for Farid.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Oh shit.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”
A great explosion of air came from my anus, and now it was Farid who was rolling down his window and leaning out for fresh air. It was hard to believe that we were only in the opening salvo of our little war, and, if this madness kept up, we’d be driving with the windows down the entire trip for fear of acute methane poisoning. Twenty painful minutes later, the sun was setting, and the light was slipping away as we pulled into the ancient city of Urmia with a vast trail of methane likely swirling in the air currents behind the little jeep.
Our contact would be waiting at a safe house on the northern end of town, which inadvertently allowed us a brief tour of the ancient city. Urmia, which basically meant water town because of the surrounding rivers, had been a center for learning, agriculture, and a whole lot of trouble, as various peoples and empires sought to occupy its lands since around 2000 BC. At the moment, it was one of Iran’s tenth largest cities, but it was fairly quiet at this hour, and we encountered very little traffic as we drove past the downtown area and into the more suburban neighborhoods. Two turns and one roundabout later, we pulled up to a nondescript house, and I beeped the horn twice.
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