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Havana Good Time,
by Mad Dog
Over the next few days she
managed to appear in the most interesting places, places wed never mentioned so she
had no way of knowing wed be there. And some of them were places she shouldnt
have been allowed in.
|| I met my first
and only Russian spy in Havana. At least I think she was a Russian spy. A couple of us
were sitting at the bar at the Melia Cohiba hotel when she looked over and smiled. She was
pretty, friendly, and well dressed with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a heavy Russian
accent. Her name was Ivana.
She told us about how shed
fallen in love with a Cuban man when he was in Russia, they got married, moved to Havana,
and subsequently got divorced. She was still living in the city but looked forward to
returning to Russia as soon as she had the money. We talked about her life in Russia. We
talked about ours in the United States. But she was particularly inquisitive about what we
were doing in Cuba. In a very casual way, of course.
The next day we ran into her at the hotel swimming pool. And
again that night in a restaurant in another part of the city. Each time she was alone.
Over the next few days she managed to appear in the most interesting places, places
wed never mentioned so she had no way of knowing wed be there. And some of
them were places she shouldnt have been allowed in. The hotel, like all of them in
Havana, was very careful about letting prostitutes in. Single women werent even
allowed into the bar unless they had a room key to prove they were staying there. Yet
nightly Ivana occupied a seat at the bar like she owned the place. The swimming pool was
for guests onlymaybe off-duty employees too, I dont knowbut she was
neither. Yet there she was, laying on a lounge chair in the middle of the afternoon
whenyou guessed itwe happened to stop by for a few minutes.
of all the James Bond movies Id seen flashed through my head, not the hot steamy sex
scenes where her name would have been Ivana Havu, but the ones where tarantulas crawl down
a sleeping stomach.
|| Over the five days we
were in Havana we ran into her six or eight times. All different hours, all different
places. She didnt seem to work, never propositioned any of us, and was always very
talkative, the conversation casually steering around to what we did in the U.S. and what
we were doing in Cuba. It was tempting to romance her, after all, whens the next
time Id get a chance to possibly go to bed with a Russian spy? But images of all the
James Bond movies Id seen flashed through my head, not the hot steamy sex scenes
where her name would have been Ivana Havu, but the ones where tarantulas crawl down a
sleeping stomach or a poisoned needle shoots out from under a long, painted fingernail.
So I missed my chance. I lost the opportunity of a lifetime
because I had flashes of a tiny cigarette lighter camera recording us for posterity and me
not getting a cut of the action on when it was seen on the Internet. But maybe Im
just overly suspicious. Maybe she was just being friendly, after all, it can get lonely
living in a foreign country. Then again, she might just have been looking to get her green
card. Ill never know.
©2000 Mad Dog Productions, Inc.
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