From "Red Flags" by Jon F. Baxley

Moscow, USSR, January 1972

“Izveneetye, pojaluista,” was all Danni had understood of what she'd said. It was the way she said it, though, that had shifted his heart into overdrive. That, and the scent of Red perfume that swirled up from her fur coat as she eased past him onto the top stair of the down escalator.

            A pair of long blonde braids contrasted sharply with the dark fur. How typical, Danni thought, while he eyed what had to be a perfect hourglass shape. It's a shame to shroud something that spectacular with mink. But, maybe she's just a little too perfect, he added.

            The long, noisy escalator ride to the bottom of the Moscow subway gave Danni a full minute to contemplate her. Before the thousand-foot descent had ended, he found himself becoming more than a little intrigued. There was no doubt—the woman's striking presence was intensely distracting in a world that, up until that moment, had seemed so nondescript.