"Vladimir Putin in Love" Opening
Gail is working on two books at the same time, Vladimir Putin in Love and Shimmering Skies. She expects to finish both these books around Christmas 2015 or early 2016. Here is her music playlist for Vladimir Putin in Love. Here is her current opening for Vladimir Putin in Love:
It was from the time of the Boston Marathon bombings until around September 2013, that I often met with Dzhokhar Tsarnaev about being the patsy for my wife, who was a murderer in the Boston Marathon bombings.
Dzhokhar Tsarnaev wept tears of outrage, “But I had nothing to do with the Boston Marathon bombings! Why must I be the scapegoat for the real criminal?”
I bowed before him, and lowered my head. “I am so sorry my wife framed you in this, and fabricated evidence, but I can’t let the world know that Lyudmila did it.”
“Why not!” Dzhokhar’s face turned beet red. “You know I’m innocent. Why must you always play games, almighty Russian President? You go off into the wilderness and conquer tigers and bears, but you cannot conquer your wife?”
My lower lip trembled. I would have to bear my soul before him to get him to understand.
“Ah ha!” Dzhokhar sneered at me, oblivious to the fact that I was his country’s head of state. “You are a coward.”
“So you won’t play my game?” I dropped my head between my knees. It tormented me to ask this of Dzhokhar. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a President. We Presidents are only puppets on a stage. We cannot be real.”
“You want the world to think you are a man?” Dzhokhar crossed his arms across his chest. “But you are no man, if your wife can murder and you cannot bring her to justice and you must allow me, an innocent man, to take the blame for your wife’s crimes.”
“Have you ever been in love, Dzhokhar?”
Dzhokhar sneered. “What does that have to do with this?”
“I never wanted the job of Russian President.”
“So that is why you’ve been at this job from 2000 to 2013?” Tsarnaev laughed. “Do you always apply this amount of charm to those you want to screw?”
“I am desperate. You must help me. If not, I may end it all.”
“What?” Dzhokhar’s mouth dropped open. “You’ll kill yourself if I won’t claim to be a murderer when I am innocent?”
I could feel the tears go down my face. They came down like a stream and wouldn’t stop. “If anything happens to Gail, I’ll die.”
Dzhokhar became silent and stared out the window, at the sticks for tree. We were in a typical Russian winter, and the atmosphere seemed even gloomier today. He rose his head to me. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be silent in court and to say nothing. We will have a lawyer represent you. You must confess to the Boston Marathon bombings, that you did it. But here in Russia, you will be a hero for protecting Gail.”
“Everyone will want to kill me, as the evil murderer. By accepting guilt for this, I can never be safe in any Western country.”
“I realize I am asking a lot of you. But once the verdict is decided, and even if they sentence you for execution, I will have you come to Russia and you must stay here and not leave. I will protect you and pay you enough money that you can retire here for life.”
Dzhokhar heaved a sigh. “I have to think about this. I like to visit the United States. Tell me more about you and Gail. Perhaps, if I could love her as you do, I may want to help.”
“You mean you want to be on her marriage list?”
“No,” he said. “That would not be a good idea. If I can only stay in Russia, I should marry a Russian girl.”
“Then what more must I tell you?”
“You may not understand this, but if I have to make such a sacrifice, I need to feel morally justified. This is very important to me.”
“Just think. If you confine yourself to Russia, you can do anything you want. You won’t have to worry about food or bills.”
“But, Mr. President, surely you understand that there is more to life than money. Is it morally right to do this? Should not Lyudmila and those responsible for these terrible deaths be forced to come to justice?”
“I shall try to tell you my story, and when we are finished, I will accept your decision. I respect a man who cares more about morals than money.”
I closed my eyes and took in a big breath. I began to tell him my story.
I am a “no nonsense” man. I like a “no nonsense” woman. Lots of people have written books about me and covered me in the press, and, frankly, it’s all crap.
Probably the most accurate book about me, was one where they interviewed me and I answered questions.
That book was my First Person, except the book got my wife’s name wrong. Her name was Larisa, not Lyudmila.
But I refused to answer questions that got too personal, so that book was shallow. I meant for it to be that way.
You know, I spent much of my life as a spy, so I preferred to be elusive, hard to figure out. I am a no nonsense man. I like a no nonsense woman. Not that I don’t notice a beautiful woman. Like any man, I am attracted to curves and beauty.
When I married Larisa in 1983, she was my best friend. That’s why I married her. I needed a woman who could be strong for me, but not bowl me over. Larisa rarely rebelled against me, even if she didn’t agree, always supported me. She was strong and beautiful.
When we dated, she grew on me. This is what happens when you fall in love. Eventually, I realized that I could not be without her and so I married her.
When I fall in love, I fall hard. It was hard for me, as a young man to express myself. But Larisa knew my heart.
She fell for me hard, too. So we made a serious vow to each other, to always be loyal to each other.
We took our marriage vows super serious. I never would have divorced Larisa. I could feel the tears swell up inside me, as I recalled Larisa on her deathbed, her breasts like heaps of coal.
I take my responsibilities seriously. If someone depends on me, I try to be loyal.
Larisa’s death in 2000 devastated me, because I failed to protect her. My enemies outsmarted me and I allowed their criminal doctors to kill my wife.
I remember the days when I walked to our kitchen, expecting to see her there, as I had for years.
Each day when I awakened, without Larisa, it seemed half of me had been cut out. I was so consumed with being a President, that I forgot to be a husband. It torments me to this day.
I’m determined never to make that mistake again with any woman who truly loves me.
It is not easy for a woman to be my best friend and for love to grow between us. Often I have to be away, because of my job. Most women don’t like that. But Larisa truly loved me, she rarely complained.
I’m not Prince Charming when I fall in love. I am very direct and to the point, and I like my woman to be the same. This may seem a contradiction, that I say I am very romantic when I fall in love. But I rape my wife with passion and verocity in bed, and with such depth of feeling that she will never feel unloved, if she truly loves me.
This means a lot to me, that my wife can respond to my passion. I fill her with myself, with total abandonment. In bed, with my woman, I am the most romantic man alive, consumed with thrilling the woman who understands my depths and believes in me as a man.
In my life, only two women have truly loved me: Larisa and then Gail Chord Schuler. Larisa understood me enough, so that she never caused me trouble, and rarely caused me pain. A woman can only be like that with me, if she loves me, because it seems I’m always in a job that makes hard demands on my family.
I heard about Gail and Brent Spiner, and how Gail stood by Brent, even when she threatened her own life to do so, because she saw greatness in him and became so consumed with that greatness that she lost herself into it.
I liked a woman who could lose herself into greatness and would become oblivious to all else.
Despite my years as a KGB operative, I always prided myself on my ability to retain my morals, even while surrounded by corruption. Larisa saw this in me and loved me.
But Gail, not only saw this in me, she adored it as greatness. She was amazed that I could come to the high position of President and still dream about being a great man with courage and manliness. In bed, together with her, she consumed me with dreams of valor, our orgasms in time and space, through brain to brain loving, thrilled me, as Gail caused my manliness to soar to the heavens.
Gail lost herself into my manliness, causing me to be her Knight in Shining Armour. When a woman truly believes that about me, then I become tender, consumed with our bodies, swooning her with passion, while she sighs into my manliness.
This is the passion I had with Gail, which I never had with any woman.
Larisa loved me, but Gail explored every crevice of my manliness, as if searching for treasure, always believing it was there, even when the world scorned me.
These moments with Gail transformed me, making me into the President that I became. When I fell in love with Gail and she wanted to marry me, I no longer awakened longing for death.
Gail grew on me and I only lived to have her remain in my heart. But I could never marry Gail, and this raged at my heart.
“Why would you long for a woman you can never have?” Dzhokhar asked.
“Oh, but I did have her,” I replied, “let me tell you how. . .”
Larisa and I shed tears together. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be strong for you. I promise you, if you die, I will be Russian President.”
My wife died. Overwhelmed with grief, I could only cope by honoring what she whispered to me on her death bed. “Vladimir, for me–to honor my death, become Russian President.”
I became Russian President in March 2000. Each day I battled depression, but overcame it because I honored her death by becoming Russian President. I drowned myself with sleeping pills and drugged myself into an emotional oblivion, so that I could function on my job. To be Russian President was not enough. I only took this job for her. She wanted me to become President to save Russia. To save Russia, I must make decisions that would bring on me public scorn. To honor her death, meant more to me than to please the crowds.
World leader now, the U.S. President offered to let me view a woman in love with Brent Spiner, of interest to world leaders because she dared to expose Jesuit treachery because of her love for the world famous Brent. Through the bugs in her Seattle apartment in 2000, I viewed a married woman named Gail overwhelmed by an empire, but whose spirit refused to stay down. Like watching a heroine from a movie, Brent cheered her on and her courage fused with his.
Copyright 2015 Gail Chord Schuler. All Rights Reserved.