Russian Rhapsody
A/N: The night after Harrison Ford crash-landed his WWII plane on a golf course, I had the strangest dream. Mr. Ford as President James Marshall from the film Air Force One came to me and ordered me to "Save that man!" He was referring to my favorite character in the film, Ivan Korshunov (played by the gorgeous and intense Gary Oldman) as if he were a real person. I replied, "Whatever you say, Mr. President!" Then Stephen Colbert (in character) popped in and said he'd be glad to help me out. This weird little ficlet is the result. My thoughts and prayers go out to Mr. Ford for a speedy recovery. This one's for you sir! :)
As the president's Deputy Press Secretary Melanie Mitchell led him and his 'film crew' to their seats on Air Force One, Ivan Korshunov felt her hand lightly brush his backside. He turned and gave her a forced smile. In turn Mitchell shot him a look that said she'd be available for anything after the flight. The deputy press secretary had been overtly flirting with him since the moment they met, which suited Ivan perfectly. He and his fellow patriots had received a personal tour of Air Force One because of it, but the woman disgusted him. It was her duty to put a positive spin on President Marshall's murderous policies—and she did so with an infuriating simpering smile he could not wait to wipe off her face. Ivan kept his expression friendly, but noncommittal. I hate to disappoint you, Miss Mitchell, he thought bitterly, but I would not touch you even for the love of Mother Russia.
After he had settled himself in his seat he grinned at his comrades in an effort to bolster their spirits. Almost all of them had families they had left behind and would likely not see again. He had three children of his own, but he had not seen them in months. His ex-wife Irina vehemently disapproved of his involvement in the Kazakhstani resistance and his loyalty to General Alexander Radek. His passionate Russian soul missed her and his children terribly, but he could see no other way to salvage what little was left of the former Soviet Union.
Just then, he heard a commotion near the front of the plane. "Oh god, my nose is bleeding! It must be the altitude!" said a somewhat familiar whining voice.
"But we're not even in the air yet," protested Miss Mitchell.
Ivan groaned inwardly as conservative American pundit and educated idiot Stephen Colbert stumbled in, followed by an attractive young brunette in a simple black dress with white polka dots who immediately reminded him of his Irina.
"Here you go Mr. Colbert!" the woman said, handing him a wadded up tissue.
"Oh my god, that hankie's not even clean!" He grabbed it anyway and held it to his nose. "I'll probably die of ebola and it's all your fault," added Colbert. The obnoxious commentator then marched up to Ivan. "You're in my seat!" he said with one hand on his hip. The other was shoving the tissue up his left nostril in an effort to staunch the bleeding.
"Pardon me?" Ivan asked in confusion.
"I said you're in my seat. Move it!"
Miss Mitchell rushed forward. "I'm so sorry Mr. Korshunov, but it is his seat. President Marshall said so the last time Mr. Colbert came aboard."
"See!" Colbert exclaimed triumphantly.
"Believe me, it's easier this way," Mitchell added with a sheepish grin.
"I'm a national treasure!" Colbert informed Ivan. "If you were an American you'd know that. Who let these Ruskies on board anyway? I was hoping to leave all you dirty commies in Moscow. Who's idea was it to come here in the first place?"
Colbert's assistant began to raise her hand, then thought better of it.
"Please hurry," said Mitchell. "President Marshall just boarded and we're about to take off."
Ivan glanced at his comrades before reluctantly rising. His old friend Sergei Lenski rose as well to offer the seat to Colbert's assistant, but Colbert waved him down. "I think she's got ebola." He turned to his assistant. "Kowalski, you can sit next to that guy downwind of me."
"I swear I do not have ebola," she assured Ivan as they settled next to each other behind Colbert and Sergei. Ivan couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'm Norma Jean Kowalski, by the way," she said, holding out her hand.
Ivan introduced himself and shook her hand. "Norma Jean, like Marilyn Monroe?" He smiled wistfully. As much as he hated American decadence, he held a soft spot in his heart for the movie starlet. He once heard Monroe held Bolshevik sympathies; yet another reason to like her.
"That's me, the Polish Marilyn Monroe! Can't you see the resemblance? She did start out as a brunette, don't you know." she laughed in a self-deprecating fashion Ivan found quite enchanting.
"Actually you resemble my ex-wife just a little," Ivan told her, a little annoyed at himself for the sudden rush of warmth to his cheeks.
"Oh, thank you, I guess, unless you hate her and then I'm so sorry," Norma Jean said sincerely as if she could help it. "And I'm sorry for—" she pointed to the seat in front of her occupied by Stephen Colbert, then pointed to the side of her head, drew circles and mouthed, 'he's crazy.'
In response Ivan whispered, "Then why do you work for him?"
She shrugged. "It's the only gig I could get right out of college. I wanted to work for the Socialist Viewpoint but they weren't hiring."
Pretty, Polish, and a socialist. It made Ivan a bit sad he wouldn't have time to get to know her better as he had a plane to hijack.
Colbert turned around and gave Norma Jean an evil look. "I told you to keep that socialist crap to yourself. If it isn't ebola, it's probably all that leftist thinking of yours that's making my nose bleed. Remind me to get another personal assistant when we get back the Report."
"But no one else will take the job, Mr. Colbert, don't you remember?" Norma Jean reminded her boss. "Jay the Intern threatened to throw himself off the Brooklyn Bridge if you made him do it."
"I mean it about all that communist crap, Norma Jean," Colbert said sternly. "And if I hear one more thing about that General Radek—"
"Oh, I am so over that guy!" Norma Jean said in disgust. "A traitor to the cause."
Ivan started at her words, but tried to keep calm. "What about Radek?"
At the sound of the general's name, Ivan's comrades also turned to listen.
"It just came over the wire as we were boarding—" Norma Jean began, then Colbert interrupted.
"That's when my nose started bleeding," he whined, visibly miffed that no one gave a damn. "A little sympathy please! Is that too much to ask?"
"Anyway, Radek's naming names so he can get better a better deal," Norma Jean continued, "There's even talk they're going to move him to some ritzy compound so he can be under house arrest for the duration. Can you believe it? I'm surprised you didn't know about it, you being a Russian journalist and all."
Ivan's head was reeling at the news but he tried not to show it. "How…interesting." In an instant everything that they had planned had come to naught. He could not see risking his life and those of his comrades for a man with no honor. With a Russian code word and a look he let his fellows know that the plan to hijack Air Force One was off. Several of them looked relieved—they would be returning home to their families after all. Ivan knew Irina wouldn't take him back, but perhaps he could see his children…
"Ivan, are you all right?" Norma Jean touched his arm lightly in concern.
"What?" he replied, still in a bit of a daze.
"You look as though you lost you're best friend."
"Oh." He shook his head to clear it. "I am fine, thank you." He trailed off, then sat in silence and let his thoughts wander to dark places. Once again the United States came out on top and Radek turned out to have feet of clay. There would be no political rebirth for Mother Russia today. And now he had to pretend to care about the 10 second sound bite President Marshall would give him and his 'film crew'. He would not die for his suffering homeland today, but there had to be something he could do to make a political statement against the country responsible for bringing ruin to his beloved Russia. A sudden smile spread across Ivan's handsome face as an idea came to him. But would Norma Jean be amenable to his wicked suggestion?
"Norma Jean…" he whispered in her ear (how he loved that name!). "Forgive me for my forwardness. Would you like to—how you say—make out? I have just the place in mind."
"Make out?" she mouthed. The young woman shivered, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Um, well, I don't normally do that with men I just met, but you're awfully cute and there's just something about you I like."
Ivan took her by the hand and stealthily made his way to the president's Oval Office in the sky. Miss Mitchell had been kind enough to point it out on the tour. Before entering, Ivan glanced at Norma Jean who looked as though she might bolt. He gave her a quick peck on the lips to keep her from leaving. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him ardently. He pulled her close with one arm around her waist while opening the door to the president's office with the other.
Hardly taking a breath, Ivan managed to steer them to the president's chair. Without missing a beat, Norma Jean straddled his lap. When they finally came up for air after 15 minutes of non-stop snogging, Ivan locked his piercing blue eyes with hers, begging silently for more. She nodded her head and guided his hand underneath her dress, while he unzipped his trousers. With a giggle, she removed her underwear and draped it over a statue of George Washington that sat on the president's desk. Ivan laughed with delight, all dark thoughts of Radek's betrayal gone from his mind. With a playful grin, Norma Jean took him in hand and guided him inside her. He gasped and threw his head back as she began to ride him. He pulled her down to him and claimed her lips again, meeting her downward thrusts. A day that would have ended in a fiery death for everyone aboard Air Force One had suddenly turned into one of new life, sex, and maybe even love.
As they both approached orgasm, Ivan whispered Russian endearments in her ear; Norma Jean answered in enthusiastic but barely intelligible Polish that made her efforts even more endearing. The both cried out as they climaxed, heedless of being heard.
A few seconds later, the door was flung open. Standing in the doorway was President Marshall himself! "What the hell-? Get out of my chair!" the leader of the free world demanded. "Oh my god, is that your underwear on Washington's head?"
Norma Jean grabbed her panties and reluctantly slid out of Ivan's lap. While the couple quickly dressed, Colbert and Mitchell appeared behind the president. Mitchell glared at Norma Jean with a flash of jealousy while Colbert did nothing to hide his glee.
"Oh, you are so fired, Kowalski!" The pundit said. "Though I must admit I admire your gigantic girl cojones. Not as big as my man balls, of course, since I wanked off in the actual Oval Office chair when the president was in the bathroom. You remember that day, don't you, Mr. President?"
President Marshall glared at Colbert in disgust. "All of you—get off my plane!"
"Uh, Mr. President, as much as I'd like to throw all of them off personally, we're in mid flight over the ocean," Mitchell pointed out.
President Marshall considered arresting them but decided it would be too much of an embarrassment to the office of the president to do so. Instead he had all three of them held in another office under guard and banned them from Air Force One and the White House permanently.
"He'll get over it," Colbert said to no one in particular.
"How would you like to defect?" Ivan asked Norma Jean.
Colbert snorted. "As if."
"He wasn't talking to you, you narcissistic imbecile," Norma Jean replied, glad she could finally tell her ex-boss what she thought of him. She rested her head on Ivan's shoulder and let out a dreamy sigh. "Defect? To Russia? I've wanted to do that ever since I read the Communist Manifesto when I was 14!"
"A woman after my own heart," Ivan replied.
Colbert stuck his finger down his throat and made gagging sounds, while Ivan kissed the top of Norma Jean's head and wrapped his arms around her. This beat hijacking Air Force One any day.
The End