Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

“What’s not to like?” he replied. The water was free; he handed her a ten-dollar bill, and said, “keep the change.”

He headed back outside, took up a seat near the band. They were playing eighties chart toppers – something about Egyptians.

The night is still young. I will find my girl.

A Russian woman walked up to him and asked, “Is this seat taken?” She had short blond hair and an athletic figure. Her hazel eyes confidently held contact with his.

Mike halfway stood up, waived at the empty chair, and said, “Be my guest.”

After a few drinks and small talk, she asked if he would like to go for a walk. On the beach, the wind was blowing, and the temperature had dropped to a comfortable 82 degrees. The wind blowing from the Atlantic Ocean was thick with the smell of salt.

“Let’s take our shoes off,” Mike said.

“I love walking barefoot in the sand.” She smiled up at him.

After kicking off their shoes and leaving them on the boardwalk, they strolled to the shoreline where the waves were washing up on the sandy beach. The salty water felt good on Mike’s feet. Hand-in-hand, they walked along the beach, feet sinking into the sand as the foamy surf hurried up to meet them. Her name was Nikita Smirnoff, and she was from Moscow, here on a work visa.

“Oh, where do you work?” Mike asked.

“I work for a Russian cargo shipping company. We do a lot of business with the Portsmouth International Terminals,” she replied.

“Sounds exciting.”

“Not really. It’s kind of boring.”

They continued talking as they walked down the beach, focusing only on each other. Mike had all but forgotten about the two goons that were supposed to be escorting him.

Shit. If I wonder off too far off they will be up my ass for the next 10 days.

“I think we need to head back to the bar,” Mike said, hoping not to give Nikita the wrong impression.

“Oh, that’s too bad, I was really enjoying our walk,” she sounded genuinely disappointed.

Damn. I really want to close the deal on this one. If those clowns-in-black cock-block my night, I’m going to be pissed.

“I’m having a great time, too. I was hoping we could go back to my hotel room. I have a nice suite overlooking the ocean. Twelfth floor.”

Damn. Was that too forward?

“You must think I’m easy,” she teased, trying her hardest to sound offended.

“No, not at all. We were just having such a good time. I just thought. . .” Mike’s voice trailed off.

“I’m just kidding. I would love to go up to your room. Do you have one of those little mini-bars?”

“Hell, yeah. You want to get trashed?” Mike asked enthusiastically. Mike never ‘got trashed,’ but he knew many humans got excited about drinking alcohol. He had also discovered that the best way to throw a bucket of cold water all over a situation was to explain why he did not drink alcohol.

“You can’t get too trashed, cowboy; you got some work to do.” She smiled and laughed while gently pushing him.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll definitely get the job done,” Mike said with a wink.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Do you have a car parked at the bar?” Mike asked.

“What, you can’t wait till we get to the hotel room?” Nikita said with exaggerated indignation and a laugh.

“Nothing like that. I just walked here. My hotel is 30 blocks away.”

“Yep, I’m in the parking garage across from the bar. I can drive us to your hotel.”

Good! Now I can get those goons off my back.

“Can we stop by the bar first, I need to use the head.”

“No problem,” she said.

Once in the bar, Mike took a lingering look at her and grinned. “I’ll be right back,” he drawled.

Instead of using the head, Mike made his way back to the front of the bar. He checked to see if she was watching and then slipped out the front door. One of the agents had gone and retrieved the SUV while Mike was inside. The passenger window slid down with a slight electric purr.

“Having fun, Mr. Evans?” the no-neck agent asked from the passenger seat.

“Yes, I got a girl that wants to come up to the room, can you guys stay out of sight?”

“Way to go Mr. Evans. Is she hot?” The smaller of the two goons asked, while raising his hands to his chest as if to mimic having large boobs.

“That’s really professional,” Mike said with insincere offense.

“Hey, we got to have some fun too.”

“Really, you still have sun glasses on?” Mike said sarcastically. “Listen, she’s going to drive me back in her car. It’s over there in the garage; you can be cool, right?” Mike pointed at the two-story parking garage.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll stay out of sight.”