Andrew Pace stepped out of his townhouse and sneezed.

Bloody cherry trees, he internally cursed the pink-flowered monsters lining his suburban street. They may have been picturesque harbingers of springtime in the DC-area, but they were also complete menaces for his sinuses.

"Bless you, neighbor!" came the unexpected greeting from next door.

Midway down his steps, Andrew paused long enough to see the gray-haired man in a suit closing the lid of his trash can.

"Thank you, congressman," he called over, feeling the need to reciprocate the idle chit-chat that was expected in America between adjoining property owners. "Lovely morning apart from the pollen."

The lawmaker smiled as he began to pull the bin to the curb. "That it is. Supposed to be near eighty by Thursday."

Andrew nodded, thankful that his wife had moved all of their receptacles to the curb last night. He just needed to make it to his car in the driveway and he could be off to campus. Otherwise, he might be stuck for the next twenty minutes hearing Chad Wight's vapid monologue about some sort of policy disagreement he was practicing for, like he'd been subjected to a few weeks earlier.

Who the hell other than a politician would make such a big fuss about what bathrooms people used, anyway? Andrew couldn't even imagine the shock some of these legislators would experience if they knew how common unisex toilets in Europe were or that in some places they even charged money to use the loo! He'd pay good money to see their reactions, that was certain.

"I better call my landscaper then," he finally replied, arriving at the door of his late model Volkswagen. "This lawn isn't going to mow itself and god forbid the HOA notice it's two inches too tall."

Wight chuckled. "I hear that," he said as he deposited the bin at the curb and began walking up his own driveway. Stopping mid-way, he picked up the bundled newspaper that he religiously had delivered on the daily.

Andrew actually admired Wight's insistence on having a paper copy although sometimes he did wonder whether it was just for show. A congressman from Virginia certainly had staffers to brief him on the most important happenings of the day and surely he didn't need to rely on fish and chips wrappers to get the information.

Slipping behind the wheel, Andrew dumped his bag on the passenger seat just as his phone pinged. Not having the self-control to wait until he got into his office to check (immediate gratification was so twenty-first century), he unlocked his smartphone.

The notification indicated there was a private message from the cam-girl he'd been chatting with lately, and he clicked on the icon immediately.

LustyBusty69: hey are you there?

He usually waited until he was in private to respond, but she'd also never contacted him this early in the morning. Andrew was curious, so he began typing.

Dr_oooh: yes but later would be better

LustyBusty69: this is important

Andrew's heart rate accelerated. Those three words were almost always followed by something bad.

Dr_oooh: ok

LustyBusty69: . . .

As those three dots blinked, Andrew glanced up. Although his neighbor was still standing in his driveway, Wight had his back turned and was preoccupied by whatever was on the front page of the newspaper.

Feeling a bit more confident now about idling in front of his house, Andrew looked back at his phone just as a photograph loaded.

LustyBusty69: [image.png]

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed.

The picture wasn't of the woman with big tits he thought he'd been chatting with on-and-off. Instead, it was a selfie of his teaching assistant Tissa.

Dr_oooh: wtf is this???

Andrew furiously typed into his phone.

LustyBusty69: surprise! Wish I could see your face right now but having screenshots of all of "our" conversations will have to do

Dr_oooh: I dont understand. It was you the whole time; why

LustyBusty69: leverage. Had enough of you fuking around with me esp after i realized i wasn't the only one. Enjoy grading your own papers but i will need a raise in my stipend. tysm

Andrew sat dumbfounded not even knowing how to process everything when a push alert from the Washington Post popped up over the private messages.

"WaPo exclusive: VA Congressman caught in compromising..." The headline was truncated, but it was enough to get Andrew to look up. It was just in time to see his neighbor run inside his house, his discarded newspaper left behind on the ground.

Venus climbed out of the massive SUV, taking the chauffeur's hand for balance. After finding her footing in her favorite ankle strap pumps, she took a second to hike her hem down. Maybe wearing the skin-tight, peekaboo cut mini wasn't her wisest decision, but she couldn't do anything else about that now. Next time she'd dress with her head and not her heart. Or rather, that other part of her body that had been making her choices lately since she'd met a certain irresistible Viking. It was the same difference at this point.

"Thank you," she said to the suited man still holding the car door for her, realizing that she'd been dawdling. "This way?"

He patiently nodded and motioned up the slate pathway that led to a grand entry.

Nodding back in return, Venus took a deep breath and began walking toward the place that upon first thought reminded her of Versailles. She'd only been to the lavish French palace once many years earlier, but its sheer size, over-the-top opulence, and air of fairy tale fantasy had stuck with her. And it was the same feeling that she was now getting standing at the front door of Kristo Hinrikus' stateside home.

Immaculately trimmed topiaries stood in massive Roman-style planters, soft spotlights shone on chiseled stonework, and wrought-iron fleur-de-lis decorated railings. There was also a strong scent of jasmine in the air, as if it were being pumped from somewhere nearby, and the moon shone from a cloudless sky. It was as if he'd even willed the weather to be perfect.

Not knowing whether to knock or look for a doorbell, Venus was spared the decision when the lead-crystal door opened and a familiar Estonian stood to greet her.

"Ah, I thought I heard the car. Come, come inside. I have a lovely evening planned for us," Kristo said with a warm smile as he ushered his guest in. "You had an enjoyable journey here, I hope?"

Venus allowed him to kiss her on both cheeks European-style before responding.

"Yes, of course. Thank you again for sending your driver for me. It wasn't necessary–you know Uber exists–but I do appreciate your attentiveness," she said, trying to remain formal, but finding it more and more difficult with each passing moment.

She hadn't seen her host in several weeks and since the last time, he'd grown a short beard. The rugged look suited him.

It was also the first instance where she hadn't caught him wearing one of his usual tailored suits, instead opting for dark slacks and a simple, white dress shirt left unbuttoned at the top. The casual air of not giving a damn, but also making it look sexy as hell didn't escape her.

"Please, it was the least I could do for having you come all the way out here," he said, waving off her gratitude as a butler arrived with a tray of two glasses. Taking both, he offered it to her. "Vodka neat?"

Venus knew she shouldn't. A clear head was always an advantage in unfamiliar situations. But something told her that this was a man who couldn't be refused.

"Thank you," she finally said, taking the tumbler and grazing Kristo's fingers in the process. "For your generosity."

He lifted his glass in a toast. "And for your recent success. Once again, it is David who defeats Goliath," he said before taking a large drink.

Venus smiled and took a small sip of hers.

So Kristo knew, too. He had guessed that the reason that she finally accepted his invitation was because there was no longer the shadow of a tit-for-tat on the line. Since the bombshell news of that congressman's gay tryst had broken and the House Oversight Committee dropped its threat of pulling federal funding from her exhibit, his wealth could no longer be claimed to influence her. She was here on her own accord and they both knew it.

"I do sometimes wish we would have gotten that second vote," she said as the strong liquid traveled down her throat, burning all the way down. "It would have been nice to have won legitimately. It somehow feels dirty to have upended a man's life like that in the process."

Kristo took another large swig of his vodka, finishing his glass in the process. "What another man does is not your responsibility, no? And in the end, only the results matter. Your show is also now the most talked about opening in town. Which reminds me . . . I am also a collector, you know."

"Really?" Venus' surprise was genuine, although on second thought, it probably shouldn't have been. Wealthy people put their money in art and memorabilia as financial investments all the time. Yet, she was still curious. "And what is it that you collect?"

His face lit up and he placed his glass on a nearby table. Grabbing her hand, he pulled Venus out of the atrium, past a marble staircase. "Better if I just show you."

After pushing open a set of pocket doors, they entered a large parlor. With the numerous bookshelves lining three walls, it could have also been considered a library, but the carved fireplace and winchester sofa set gave it a homey feel.

Stopping in front of a landscape painting, Kristo beamed with pride. "What do you think of this?"

Venus paused to take in the scene featuring colorful wildflowers under a cheery blue sky. "It's exquisite," she said while processing the conflicting feelings of passion and serenity that the masterful brush strokes evoked within her.

From behind, Kristo placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's an extremely rare Francisco Franco," he said.

She couldn't help to giggle.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled by her reaction.

She turned her head to look up at him. "It's a wonderful piece and I'm sure it's worth plenty for it to be part of your collection, but that poor man. To share a name with such a monster."

Kristo let her go and stepped back. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood. I believe we are talking about the one and the same."

Her response stuck in Venus' throat. Did she hear him right? Was he truly boasting about owning a painting by one of the most brutal dictators of the Twentieth Century?

Thankfully, the Estonian didn't wait to continue, buying Venus more time to compose herself.

"It is true that not many knew of the Spanish politician's penchant for painting, but that just makes his few surviving pieces that much more valuable," he said, admiring the scene.

The blanket of red poppies now meant something much different to Venus' eyes, but she tried to stay diplomatic, given the circumstances.

"Well, yes, of course. It is our duty to preserve history so that others may learn from it," she said. "Have you considered perhaps loaning the piece to a museum? It would be an ideal example of a whitewashed view of fascism."

Kristo shook his head. "My collection is for my own enjoyment. I do not trust others to tell its story and it is only for a privileged few to share it with me. Come. There is more," he said, pulling her away before she could object.

Over the next half hour, Venus saw ancient clay tablets supposedly smuggled out of Iraq during the Gulf War, purported fragments of newly discovered Dead Sea scrolls, a Tenth Century Kmer deity that once decorated a temple, and several other pieces of which her professional ego wanted to desperately question the provenance. But telling herself that Kristo Hinrikus was rich and important enough to employ people who would make sure that everything that he put his money into was above board kept her biting her tongue. With the delicious smells that had started wafting in from what she could only assume was the nearby dining room, soon they'd be leaving all of the dubious artifacts behind to enjoy a nice meal together.

"One more thing," Kristo said, as he opened the French doors on the far wall. "You must see my garden in the moonlight. It is perhaps the best feature of the house."

Not seeing any harm in looking at more flowers and shrubbery, and deep down hoping for something a little more romantic to clear both of their heads, Venus followed him outside.

A fountain with intertwined dolphin statues spouting water from their mouths provided the gentle splash as background noise as their shoes crunched the pebbles on the footpaths. The scent of jasmine was even stronger here and the white, star-shaped flowers soon surrounded them.

"Oh, this is lovely," Venus whispered as she took in the idyllic calm of the natural retreat. An owl even hooted nearby.

Stopping, Kristo stood in front of her and took Venus' hands in his. "I'm happy that you think so," he said, before reaching for her face with one hand. After gently pulling her close, he kissed her. After so much anticipation, it still turned out to be toe curling and Venus saw metaphorical fireworks.

"I hope that you consider that lovely, too," Kristo said lightheartedly when they separated.

Venus opened her eyes and smiled, ready to agree, but then something caught her attention.

"Who's that?" she asked, looking past Kristo at a statue under a weeping willow. The bearded man wore a long coat and held a large child in his arms.

Kristo turned. "Oh, yes. That is one of my favorites in the outdoor collection. It is a modern bronze of Rasputin."

Venus blinked. "Rasputin? Like the crazy monk who accepted sexual favors in exchange for political access to the last Russian tsar?"

"Allegedly. But I have him here as part of a group of men who exerted influence from the shadows. I also have–"

"Nope." Venus cut him off. She didn't need to hear more. "No, sir. Thank you for everything. It was nice to meet you, but I must now be going."

Forget social niceties. She didn't even have the energy to make up an excuse to leave. This man's kink of collecting fringe artifacts was too shady and depraved for her. Thank goodness Uber existed.

Rolling ONC word count: 20,333