The Charm School

shut and the heavy drapes pulled tight as was the rule. Hollis turned on the lamp.
    Lisa said, “I used to enjoy the sun coming in the window in the morning.”
    “Me too,” he said, “but there’s no sun anyway, only microwaves from across the street.”
    She cuddled close to him and ran her hand over his groin as she kissed his cheek.
    “You’re very affectionate,” he said.
    “You’re not,” she replied.
    “Give me time.”
    “I understand.” She got out of bed and went into the bathroom.
    Hollis heard the faucet running. The telephone on the nightstand rang. He let it ring. It kept ringing. Against his better judgment, he picked it up. “Hello.”
    Seth Alevy said, “Good morning.”
    “Morning.”
    “I wanted to speak to you.”
    “Then call me in my apartment.”
    “You’re not there.”
    Hollis swung his legs out of bed. “Try again.”
    Alevy sounded annoyed. “I’d like a meeting with you for eleven A . M .”
    “I have a meeting with two Red Air Force colonels at ten-thirty.”
    “That’s been canceled.”
    “By
whom
?”
    “Also ask Lisa to be there. Her calendar has been cleared. I’ll see you in the intelligence officer’s safe room.” Alevy hung up.
    Lisa called out from the bathroom, “Where are you?”
    “I’m on
my
side now.” Hollis got out of bed.
Bastard.
He thought that Alevy could well have waited to talk to him when he got to his office. He thought about life inside the red brick walls. Here you could bowl, swim in the indoor pool, play squash, or see the weekly movie in the theater. If none of that appealed to you, you could go crazy, as his wife claimed she had done, or you could indulge yourself in one sort of marginally acceptable behavior or another; extramarital sex, alcohol, and social withdrawal were the most common. More acceptable pursuits included reading long Russian novels, working sixteen-hour days, or trying to learn more about the land and the people, as Lisa had done. This latter hobby, however, often met with disappointments and frustrations, as this host country, in contrast to most, wasn’t flattered and didn’t want you to learn anything. Even a fluency in the language marked you as a potential spy. Xenophobia was as Russian as borscht, Hollis thought.
    And if things inside the walls weren’t enough to get you down, outside the walls were the men and women of the KGB’s Seventh Directorate, the “Embassy Watchers,” who had the premises and each individual in it under constant surveillance. Hollis parted the drapes a few inches and looked out into the new morning.
    The new embassy had to be built on the only site offered by the Soviet government, and in addition to the unhealthy river vapors, the low ground made it possible for the KGB to bombard the whole compound with listening-device microwaves whose long-range physical effects were unknown, though leukemia was one suspected by-product.
    Even intracompound telephone calls such as Alevy’s to Lisa’s apartment were monitored, and the windows were watched, which was why room blinds were almost permanently shut.
    Lisa walked out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel around her neck. “Who was that?”
    Hollis regarded her in the dim light. In clothes she looked lithe, almost slight. But naked, she was full-busted, and her hips were well-rounded. Her pubic hair had a nice reddish tint.
    “My face is up here.”
    “Oh…” Hollis said, “That was Seth.”
    “Oh…”
    “He wants to see both of us at eleven A . M . Your calendar has been cleared.”
    “What do you suppose they want now?”
    “Who knows?”
    She asked, “Are we in trouble because of… this?”
    He replied, “Me, maybe. I’m married. You single people get away with everything.”
    She thought a moment, then offered, “This wasn’t a good idea. I was being selfish. You have more to lose than I do.”
    “Mandatory postcoital speech noted.”
    They stood a few feet from each other, both naked. Lisa looked him up and down. “That’s some throttle you’ve got there, fly boy.”
    Hollis smiled despite his annoyance at the phone call.
    She said, “Let’s impress the KGB listener with our sexual appetites.” She took his hand and led him into the bathroom. They made love in the shower, and over his objection, she shaved him with her pink plastic razor. She gave him a toothbrush, then went downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee.
    As Hollis dried himself, he surveyed the array of feminine products on the