Title: Show me Heaven
Author: Kimberley Jackson
Rating: R (maybe NC-17 sometimes, due to violence)
Category: OOA (Out Of Alias)
Pairing: Jack/Irina
Summary: Boston, 1865
During Civil War, Irina is a woman with many facades, living with her husband Gerard Cuvee in Boston. She
is forced to spy for her husband and the southern side, but hides slaves to help them to escape from their
owners at the same time since her sympathies are lying with the North. As her husband is addicted to games
and alcohol, she has to sell herself to men from the middle and upper class in order to earn money, and
sometimes to get information.
When her husband orders her to seduce the North's best war strategist and lawyer, Jack Bristow, it starts out
as a job as usual for Irina but soon she's intrigued by his charm and behavior.
Notes: This story is dedicated to Jule, who did a great job assisting me with the logical storyline. cuddles
Also I dedicate it to Shanice, who, despite her limited time, did a great job helping me with the love scenes.
Hope to read some of your work soon, girl!
Thanks to CMSTE for betareading this story.
Chapter 1
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. Her hair was full, falling in soft waves around
her face and over her bare shoulders. The black dress she was wearing fit her perfectly. It was tight, forming out
every inch of her body, making almost everybody in the room imagine about what was underneath.
Jack Bristow took his glass of Whiskey and downed it in once, then he looked around in the Boston night-bar. The
customers were mostly gentlemen from the middle or upper class who spent the evenings here to get rid of the
happenings of their day – just like him, searching for a little distraction.
He knew a few of them, not by name, but he had seen them once on the celebration for their president, Abraham
Lincoln.
"Could I get one more of this?" he asked the barkeeper and turned his attention back to the beauty. He wondered
where she came from – she definitely had a southern touch in her beauty, maybe Mexican?
She made her way slowly to the counter and flirted with the men who were shooting her lewd looks and almost
undressed her with their eyes.
Jack frowned his forehead. It was a shame that good situated men behaved this way against women from the lower
class – no matter whether she was a whore or not – and he didn't doubt that eighty percent of the men in this room
had a wife and probably even children waiting at home.
He had neither. His life was too complicated for a woman to take place in it. As strategist of the Unions in the Civil
War, he was often away from home and didn't have much time. That was not a life to share with a woman – at least
not in a serious relationship.
He smiled at the woman when she now approached him, her eyes focused on him. She slid down to the chair next to
him in the most seductive manner, her dark eyes promising as she just looked at him.
He didn't say anything, just held her eyes for a long time until she bent forward and smiled.
"You say nothing."
"No, I am not!" he replied dryly, returning her soft smile.
"Don't you want to know, what it would cost you to spend the night with me?"
"Pretty straight forward!" he noticed amused and she laughed softly.
"Maybe I'm desperately in need of money..."
"So then, what's your price?"
"Two hundred!" she replied, her hand softly brushing his.
"Two hundred?" he raised his eyebrows amused and took a sip of his whiskey.
"Yes, with the usual rules. No kissing, no beating... you know the whole stuff. I'm not interested in something like
that!" she replied and he smiled.
"Glad to hear that." He looked at her red, sensual lips and offered her his glass of Whiskey. "Are you thirsty?"
She took the glass out of his hands, downed the content in once and looked at him again.
"Do you negotiate about your price?"
"No. I can't reduce it..." she replied.
"I wasn't thinking about reducing it. I was thinking more about doubling it if I was allowed to kiss you... what do
you say? Four hundred for you..."
She leaned back in her chair and shot him disbelieving looks, her reaction showing him that he had put her off.
"I'm sorry, I don't think... you would pay two hundred to kiss me?"
He didn't answer, just looked at her in a playful challenge and she smiled softly. He was charming in a kind of way
that disarmed her.
"Fine... if I get four hundred this evening, I might have a free evening tomorrow," she replied, holding his gaze.
"What is your name?" he asked and took her hand into his.
"Whatever name you want to be mine," she replied, her voice seductive.
He laughed. "Fifty for your real name?"
"Are you joking? I mean..."
"I will pay you five hundred for this night, and you will tell me your real name and a little bit about you."
She laughed amused and stroked her hair behind her ear. "I have to say, I have never had a customer like you...
usually they want to reduce my price. Afterwards, of course!"
"Of course," he nodded smiling.
"You're really planning to pay me, aren't you? Or are you just trying to get me into bed and then get rid of me
without paying?" she asked, her eyes deeply locked with his.
"I would never do that. I'm an honorable man, not a swindler," he replied. "I will pay you right here if you wish me
to."
She seemed to consider his offer for a little moment, weighing the pros and the cons, then she got up and offered her
hand to him. "Come with me..."
He took her offer and got up. She stood close to him, her body brushing his as she turned around. He touched her
silky hair and stroked it away from her neck and ear. She cocked her head slightly and his lips brushed her skin for a
split second before she pulled him through the curtains into the private rooms of the bar, then through the back exit
out into the dark streets of Boston.
Outside, he pressed her to the wall next to the door, hungrily devouring her lips with his until she opened her mouth
to return his kiss.
"Do you have a place to go? A room... or your home... somewhere your wife isn't going to kill me?" she asked into
his ear when he trailed his lips down her neck.
"I'm not married..." was his hoarse reply. "We can go to my house if that's okay with you."
"It is..." she replied and locked her eyes with his. "Lead the way..."
Only ten minutes later they were entering the main hall of Jack Bristow's house.
"Will you tell me your name now?" he asked, his hands lying on her bare shoulders, stroking down her arms.
"Irina..." She leaned against him.
"Exotic name..." he murmured while nibbling at her earlobe.
"Russian..." she whispered back. "My father was an immigrant. I'm first generation born here."
"Irina..." he repeated her name, his lips at her shoulder now.
"So, what's your name?" she asked slowly, ignoring his kisses as she had learned to do over the years.
"Jack," he whispered back.
She looked around in the hall, her eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. Bingo, she thought. This seemed to be
the right house. Gerard would be pleased when he heard that she had earned five-hundred and managed to get the
map.
"What are you thinking of?" he asked into her ear and she smiled.
"You..."
"You're lying..." he replied, turning her head to him and brushing her lips with his mouth. "Do you like that?"
"Yes..." she replied and broke the contact with him. "But I'd rather prefer you'd pay me first."
"You don't trust easily, do you?"
"Bad experiences..." she replied apologizing and watched him as he went into another room. She wrapped her arms
around her body and sighed while looking at the old paintings in the hall – portraits of the first presidents.
The whole interior of the house looked luxurious and she felt a certain uneasiness. What was she doing here, she
didn't even belong here? Sleeping for money with men to steal information from them was not the life she had
always dreamed of – especially if the information was used for actions she didn't stand for. She lived in Boston, she
had spent most of her childhood here – then her father had married her with Gerard Cuvee. He had been rich, he had
a plantage in the south and so her father had thought, he was the perfect match.
What he hadn't known was, that Gerard turned out to be addicted to games. He had lost his plantage long before he
had met Irina's father. Yet he still believed in the old southern ideals and now, during the war, he used his efforts to
spy on the plans and strategies of the northern army – or better, he used her efforts. The plans and information she
stole went into his conspiracy ring, the money she earned landed in any strange man's pocket – lost by poker games.
Every week – sometimes even day – the same thing.
Irina knew she was beautiful, and so she managed to earn a little more than she told Gerard. Money, she put aside
for her own plans. Her sympathies were with the north and the black people who had been suppressed for centuries.
Her best friend was a slave who had run away. Now Irina was hiding her in an old ruin at the edge of the city,
constantly supplying her with food, which required money.
Sometimes she wondered why she was doing all this. She had tried to run away once, even argued with her husband.
He had punished her by beating her and selling her to two of his best friends for the night – men she had hated.
"You like what you see?"
His voice so close to her ear started her and she took the white envelope he gave to her. Five hundred northern states
dollars were a lot of money and she could make good use of it.
"This is very amazing... I've never seen a portrait of John Adams which was that good."
He looked at her, surprised. "Yes, it's John Adams. How did you know?"
She laughed as she heard the tone out of his voice. "My father insisted that I went to school in order to not end up as
a..." she started, then she cut off as she realized, that she had nonetheless ended up as a whore. Well, her motives
were not only about money, but the fact that she sold her body stayed the same. After all, what was she doing?
Telling all this to a stranger – whom she was supposed to steal from. "Enough about me..."
"No, I want to know what happened..." he said and trailed his tongue along the line of her neck to her earlobe. His
hands lay loosely on her waist.
"Nothing spectacular. Just a man who didn't turn out as the honorable husband he pretended to be when proposing
to my father." She turned around in his grip and laid her arms around his neck. "Do you want to talk, or do you want
me to distract you?" she asked playfully at his lips and he reacted to her seduction. He merged their lips in a short
kiss, then he pulled her up the stairs to the upper floor.
She followed him into his bedroom and laid the envelope onto a chair. Then she pulled off her shoes and went
towards him, her eyes never losing his. When she stood right in front of him, she started to unbutton his jacket. His
hands went slowly over her shoulders and down her arms.
"Where is your husband now?" he suddenly asked and she shrugged her shoulders.
"Out, somewhere... maybe home, waiting for me to return with some money – so, how do you want me?" She got
closer to his lips until she barely touched them.
"Wait..." he said, bringing distance between them and she sighed.
"What?"
"Your husband is still alive?"
"Of course! Could we please get this finished? I want to get some sleep tonight." She watched him, as he let himself
sink to the bed, still staring at her.
"Your husband wants you to do this?"
"Does that disturb you? I'm sorry, I should have never mentioned him..."
"No, no!" he refused and shook his head. "I'm just wondering if you want to do this too."
"If I..." she repeated his sentence in disbelief then she chuckled. "It's a job! I'm sure there are better ones, and there
are also worse – but after all it's just a job. I do it, because I need the money – as all women do, who are selling
themselves."
He pulled her closer and buried his face in her stomach. She buried her hands in his hair.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..." he murmured and then let go of her. "I want you to leave. Go
home to your husband. You can keep the money..."
"But... I thought..." For a moment panic raised in her mind. Gerard would kill her if she didn't come home with the
map. And the map was in the drawer of his desk right behind her. She needed him to be asleep in order to get it. She
pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips, her hands softly pinning his while she locked her fingers with
his.
"It's a generous gesture, but I can't accept it, Jack. You paid me, so let me give you what you paid for..." She
claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss that left him breathless, her hands and kisses seducing him and her touches
erasing all reason in his mind.
When her hot breath tickled his ear, he moaned and turned her around in a swift move so he was on top. Their eyes
met for a split second before he devoured her lips in a demanding kiss. His hands fumbled at her dress and finally –
with a little help of hers – he managed to open it.
She closed her eyes as he pulled it down, his lips starting to take advantage of the newly exposed skin. Her hands
ran through his gray, wavy hair and she moaned softly when his lips closed over her nipple – more to satisfy him
than to her own emotion. Her thoughts were at the map she was supposed to steal.
Her mind worked totally rationally, her eyes scanning every inch of the room – she forced back the feelings of guilt,
when she realized that she actually liked this man, even thought him attractive. Thoughts like that brought nothing
but trouble, so she had fast learned to shut them out when she had started at this job – and she had also soon learned
how to make a man believe his touches brought her pleasure, although she was thinking of other things.
But Jack Bristow was different. She had soon to admit that fact, when he was lying on her chest some time later,
lazily stroking the skin of her belly and then reconnected their lips in a soft kiss.
"So, what can I do for you?" he whispered into her ear, his hands lining out her waist.
"You already did enough for me."
"I don't think so." He looked into her eyes, his thumb stroking her lips softly.
"Yes, you did. You paid a generous price, certainly much more than I deserve."
"That was not what I was talking about..."
She looked out of the window, closing her eyes softly. "I'm tired... you were exhausting," she lied and he nibbled at
her earlobe.
"You are a liar, but a very charming one..." He laid his head back to her chest and closed his eyes.
Irina looked at the moon, that lightened the room in pale shades of gray and white, her eyes like hypnotized. Now
she had to be patient and wait until he had fallen asleep.
While she was doing so, she did what she always did. She named the presidents of the republic by now, including
birth dates and terms of office, then she recited the Declaration of Independence word by word, including its first ten
amendments.
Despite the fact that she was a woman and not allowed into any kind of higher job anyway, she had spent most of
her time learning, when she was in school. She had been young and naive, dreaming that a smart and beautiful girl
would someday marry a smart and handsome gentleman, who would treat her like a queen and never lift a hand
against her. Although this hope was shattered, she still kept up her interest in politics, convinced that it might
possibly help her someday to know all those details.
When she was finally sure that he was sleeping soundly, Irina carefully freed herself from Jack, then she glided out
of the bed, gathering her clothes from the ground. When she was dressed, she had a last look at the sleeping man,
then she lowered to his face and kissed him softly one last time.
"This time I'm really sorry..." she whispered almost breathless and touched his cheek, before turning around.
Carefully she went to the desk, her bare feet not making any sound on the ground.
She searched the small drawer at the side of the table and pulled out a small key with which she finally opened the
large pigeonhole in the middle. She had soon found what she was looking for. The big map of the southern states
with its handwritten marks and notes in it. Jack Bristow was known as one of the best strategists of the northern
army; his skills had cost the southern confederate army already two victories. Carefully she folded the big map
together again and placed it under her dress at her waist. She locked the shelf again and put the small key back into
the drawer at the side of the shelf.
She almost screamed out, when suddenly Jack's hand grabbed her waist from behind.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice showing his anger.
"I'm... I was... I..."
"You were stealing," he stated correctly and pushed her against the wood. "That's what you came for?"
Irina looked at him, her eyes wide in shock, her mind working feverishly. She felt for the white envelope on the
chair and grabbed it.
"Answer me! Who are you? A spy?" Jack insisted and Irina lowered her eyes.
"I'm sorry..." Then she pushed him hardly aside and fled the room, not caring for the fact that she was still barefoot.
She ran down the stairs and out of the house. She didn't even notice how cold the stones of the street were under her
feet. Only when she had reached the edge of the city, she stopped running, the envelope crumpled in her hand.
When the first thick raindrop fell from the sky, Irina noticed that the weather had changed and the sound of thunder
from the horizon announced a coming rainstorm.
Irina kept on walking, slower now, not caring for the harder-getting rain. Soon her hair was wet and the dress
clinging to her body. The raindrops mixed with the tears that were involuntarily running down her cheeks – tears
caused by shock, but also by something else she couldn't determine. A deep feeling of sadness.
By the time she reached the old ruin next to the lake, she was fully soaked – so was the envelope in her hand. Irina
knocked at the old door, then she entered and passed through the first two, totally destroyed rooms.
She pulled aside the stones that were covering the wooden hatch on the ground that led into an underground room.
After she had pulled up the heavy wood she climbed down the wooden ladder and crossed the first room, entering a
second one.
A black woman was sitting in a corner, her eyes wide with fear when she heard the sounds. When Irina entered, she
jumped up and hugged the woman.
"Oh God, it's you! I was afraid, you might be an officer... my god, what happened?"
Phillis touched the cheek of her friend and noticed her trembling.
"Nothing, I'm okay..."
"He did it again, didn't he?"
Irina just nodded and Phillis cursed some words in the language she had learned by her family when she had still
been working on Gerard Cuvee's plantation.
"Irina, when will you stop sharing other men's beds for him?"
"The day he dies," Irina replied bitterly and let herself sink to one of the old cushions at the wall. "You know I can't
leave him. He would follow me and kill me. And if I go to the police, he will show them all the proofs for my spying
and I will be executed as a traitor. I am still his legally married woman and so I don't have any rights."
Phillis sank down next to the woman who had been her best friend since the day they had met – despite her status as
a slave. She laid her arms around her and pressed her against her chest, softly stroking through her hair.
"Where are your shoes?" she suddenly asked and Irina shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know... I think I forgot them in Bristow's house."
"Bristow? Jack Bristow?"
"Yes..." Irina nodded and took the small towel Phillis handed to her. She dried her face.
"My god, I've only heard good about him. The baker's wife comes to bring me fresh bread every morning and she
told me that I should go to him in order to get help. He studied law in Harvard and might know a way for me to be
free legally!"
"Yes, but since they passed the new law, that every slave who has fled is to be returned, there is almost nothing any
lawyer could do," Irina murmured and opened the envelope. "He paid very generously. Here, can you keep that for
me?"
"Two hundred?" Phillis looked at her friend and Irina sighed and laid her head against the cold stone wall behind
her. The candles flickered for a moment and Phillis looked at them worried, for if their fire went out, she would have
to spend the rest of the night in darkness before the baker's wife would bring her new candles and matches
tomorrow.
"Yes, he paid additional three hundred for being allowed to kiss me and me telling him a little bit about myself. I
took the chance. We need the money. But I don't want Gerard to lose everything in the next poker game."
"I will hide it for you," Phillis promised and smiled at her. "So, what did you tell him?"
"Unimportant things... my name..."
"If your husband learns..."
"There is so much he mustn't know..." She looked at the dark ceiling and closed her eyes. "He caught me."
"Excuse me?"
"Jack Bristow caught me while I was stealing the map from him."
"Oh damned."
Irina shot her a look at this very un-female curse, but then she nodded since it seemed the only appropriate
description for her situation. "Yes... and he knows my name."
"And what did he say?"
"Nothing... I mean, he said something of course. He was outraged but I pushed him away and fled the house."
Phillis tried to order her friend's hair a little – something that was almost impossible since they were totally soaked.
"You could run away from your husband and hide here for some time – a few months. And who knows, maybe the
war will be over by then and he dies in one of the battles."
"I can't live here... I'm sorry... I need to be out there to have at least the illusion of being able to change something –
even if it remains an illusion."
"It's not. You have already changed so much, Irina. For me and dozens of other slaves you helped to cross the
border. But especially for me. I will never forget what you did... without you I wouldn't be able to read or write."
"It's not enough... I'm spying for the wrong side."
"Why don't you go to Bristow and explain it to him? If he can't help me, he might be able to help you at least."
Irina looked at her for one thoughtful moment, then she shook her head sadly. "I don't trust him enough. He might
be nice, but nobody can guarantee that he will believe me – especially after what I did tonight. I can't prove
anything and even if I could manage to get a divorce, Gerard would pursue me to take revenge." She got up. "I have
to go now. Gerard is already waiting for me and I don't want to stay away too long; that would make him
mistrustful."
"Take care..." Phillis said softly and hugged her friend one last time. Irina nodded and smiled.
"I will. You know me, I am a survivor."
When she was walking home the dirty streets of Boston, the rain had stopped and the dawn started. The first sunlight
appeared at the far horizon, forcing away the shadows of the night. A new day had come.
When she reached her house, Irina breathed in deeply and entered. Gerard Cuvee was sitting on the table in the
small kitchen, smoking a cigarette. It didn't take Irina much to know that he had been drinking again – most likely
with his poker friends.
"There you are!" His eyes lightened up. "Did you get money?"
Irina threw the money to the table, the map followed. "I will take a bath and go to sleep. I'm tired," she announced
in her usual cold tone and he looked at her appearance.
"Where are your shoes?"
"Lost..." she announced and didn't actually care. Cuvee jumped up, approaching her threatening.
"Do you know how much those shoes cost me, you little b? And now you tell me you lost them?" he yelled at
her, puffing the air of his cigarette into her face.
"Well, then you will have to take a little bit of that money I earned and buy new ones!" she replied. "You waste
thousands each month by your stupid poker games and now you reproach me for losing one pair of shoes! Do you
know what I go through every night?"
His hand hit her hard in the face and she held on to the wall when she stumbled. She forced back the pain and looked
at him.
"Fine, go on, do it again. That's all you can do – slap me and losing money by poker," she replied without emotion,
then she just turned around and went up the small wooden stairs to the bathroom. Half an hour later she sank into her
bed, weary and shivering. Her body was demanding for sleep, her mind for the usual state of drowning in the
wonderful blackness of sleep. She gave into it, welcoming the peaceful atmosphere as her mind was drifting away...