Free My Only One by Lindsay McKenna

If Captain Denisov could see me,” Alec said as he sat down to untie his shining black shoes, “he’d probably write me up for being out of uniform and a disgrace to the Soviet navy.”
    Giggling, Abby shook her head and threaded her fingers through her hair to loosen up the abundant mass. What she needed to do was brush it. She hated pinning it up in a chignon, but realized she had had to look professional today for the world’s cameras. “I won’t tell.” With his light blue long-sleeved shirt opened at the throat, Alec looked like a businessman now, and not a naval officer. The only light on in the living room was a huge hanging stained-glass lamp, a pattern of red roses and green leaves on a pale pink background. It cast colorful light about, and the shadows accentuated Alec’s rugged features, making him intensely male and handsome.
    Leaning back against the couch, Alec sighed, the wineglass in his hand again. “You look more like an elfin sprite than that serious marine biologist I saw today,” he teased. The wine was mildly fruity and semidry. Rarely had Alec had such wine, and he savored the chilled liquid.
    “When I’m in the public eye, Alec, I have to present a certain kind of image.”
    “Why?” He motioned to her. “You look relaxed, free and beautiful. What’s wrong with that image?”
    Abby felt heat nettle her cheeks, and she avoided his hooded stare, more than a little aware of how womanly he made her feel. “If I showed up looking like this, a lot of Americans wouldn’t take me seriously.”
    “Oh?”
    “Unfortunately, Americans have had too many decades of prepackaged concepts. They’ve been brainwashed into seeing or believing only certain types of images. If you don’t fit the image, then you might not be believed.”
    “But you dressed almost—” he searched for the right words, not wanting to insult her “—like a man. Even your hair was tamed into a severe shape.”
    She sighed. “I know.”
    “That wasn’t an insult. You looked very beautiful today in your suit, but now you look like the Abby I know.”
    “Women have their problems in my country, Alec. Feminism isn’t a new concept.” When she saw the confusion in his eyes, she added, “There’s a double standard in America. Women were taught they could only be housewives and mothers and that was all. In the seventies, women began to assert their rights to do anything a man can do, with the exception of certain physical limitations. Not only that, but to get equal pay for equal work.” Her mouth twitched with ire. “Equal pay still hasn’t happened yet, and women are continuing to be undervalued by men who run this country. Part of the answer lies in women voting for women political candidates to sway the balance of power. Only then do I think women’s issues will begin to be fairly addressed.”
    “And so you dress like a man to be taken seriously?”
    Abby was pleased with his insight. “Yes…exactly.” She took another sip of her wine and stared down into the contents of the glass. “Every step women have taken in my country to free themselves of what men think they ought to do or be had been one hell of a struggle. The girls being born today will have it so much easier. They won’t have to fight to be taken seriously as an equal, or be sexually harassed like the women before them.”
    “Things aren’t very good in the Soviet Union for women, either,” Alec noted. “A woman may be allowed to work at a job, just like a man. But she is still expected to raise the family and take care of the home, too.”
    She gave him a flat look. “Looks like the double standard is alive and well over there, too. Here, a woman who has a career
and
a family is referred to as a Supermom.”
    “A woman’s life isn’t easy,” Alec agreed softly.
    “You don’t seem to have a problem with me being the way I am.”
    A slow smile pulled at his mouth. “How can one dislike a sunbeam?”
    “Are all Soviet men like you?