The Russian Wife Ch. 11

"You have heard when we..." He was blushing.

"No, nothing bad... You have learned not to be egoistic, in bed. That's very important, it's the paramount, for a man. It's the real secret. And you have REALLY learned that. If you will keep going this way, you will be like your uncle: a good husband, and a helluva male... But he is so ALREADY..."

"And is he so YET?" he asked. I nodded, with a smile who was really worth a thousand words. Do you want to know if he bones me yet, my darling young man? He does it, rather! "So it's just a matter of... Experience?"

"Yes. It's the only thing he has, and you have not. Besides me..."

"Does he HAVE you?"

"Yes, he has. And not only because he is my husband, or because he bones me well. I have told you: a good man for me must be good in bed and out of bed. And he is good in bed, and is my love, and my best friend... And my master too, if I have a master in this world. Because I WANT him to be that, for me..."

"And then WHY did you do it?"

"Because I WANTED you. As you wanted ME. And I wanted to be the one who makes you discover sex." I smiled. "I don't know if it was more desire, or more maternal instinct. If it were just one of these things, it would have been not enough. But both of them... The flesh is weak, you know..."

"So you are NOT in love with me..."

"Oh, no, not in love... I love my man. And I like you. You had become kind of an... obsession, for me... really an obsession..."

"Well... you too..." he smiled.

"Are you in love with me? I hope no..."

"Hm... No, after all... no... " he shook his head. I smiled at him, caressing his hair. "But what about... him?"

"Oh... He too had understood... " I shrugged. He looked at me, surprised.

"Understood what?"

"That I loved him, but desired you. "

"And how can it be? How could he get it?"

"Experience..." I shrugged. "Experience, and knowledge of women. Of one woman, more specifically: myself."

"And he has let you do it?"

"And he has let me do it. With you. Because you were you."

"What sense?"

"He was worried about you. You were depressed, frightened. It's not the right spirit for to join the army. And you were virgin. He thought you could become a laughing stock, in the barrack room. It happens. And he was afraid you would have not taken the blow... "

"I could... I'm not such a sissy... I had survived at school..."

"Maybe yes, maybe no... The school is a thing, you come home at night. The army is another..."

"But if this was the problem, then... I could go to a whore... There was no need of..."

"And why haven't you done it?"

"Well... I was ashamed... I had found an address, on the paper... But I did not decide..."

"Yes. He too went to a whore, the first time... He had found a good one... But he never did it again. It's not really sex. It's like a flight simulator. It has all the controls, but... It's not a real plane..." I smiled. "So he said..."

"Did he really..." he asked me, very surprised. I nodded.

"Hard to believe, right? He seems so self-assured, so charming... But once he was just like you are now. All the beginnings are difficult..."

"But then... Did he ask you to play the whore?" he wondered. I shook my head no.

"He did not ask me anything. He had just let me do what I wanted to do. Maybe he would have preferred me not to do it. But he knew I would have remained with my obsession... " I smiled. "Do you understand why I love him so?"

"I could be your best friends too..." he said.

"And I could be your mother..." I smiled even more.

"No!!"

"Yes! In his eyes, I am always a nice Slavic girl, who sometimes amuses him, sometimes surprises him, and sometimes annoys him... But I would never leave him, and he knows it. And he would never leave me, and I know it. But in your eyes... Well, maybe not now, but in a few years time... I would look like a splendid Roman ruin..."

I shrugged and stood up, naked, going to the bathroom to wash me. I was sweating, the good healthy sweat of well-made sex. But it was better to wash it away. And not only that...

"Sorry..." he said. I looked at him. He was looking at me, from top to toe, with eyes full of admiration, and a bit of sadness. I thought to cover me, but why? I smiled at him.

"So what?" I said.

"Hm... Are all Russian women like you?" he asked. I snorted, smiling. "I mean... even in the life, out of the bed..."

"Yes... If they find the right man... yes."

"Then I hope I will marry one..." he said. I smiled.

"My best wishes!" I said.

And I went to the bathroom.

I showered myself, with the doubt I had offended Paolo. After all, that time, I did not feel "dirty". But even if my man knew what I had done, and somehow had consented, better off not to make him "feel" it too. The smell of another man over me...

Regarding God... "Greshna", I had slipped again. I hoped Bàtyushka would not have taken it too bad... What did He say to the Adulteress? "Go, and sin no more." And did she sin no more? And who the heck knows that?

I insisted to accompany Paolo to the bus stop for the station. He had decided to leave before my man would come back. Maybe it was better off that way. It would have been embarrassing... My man could pretend that nothing happened, but he would have been less apt to do it. Another skill which takes time to be learned.

I observed him, while we were waiting for the bus. He seemed happy and puzzled at the same time. He looked at me, blushed, smiled, and keep mum. And seemed short of breath, deeply sighing, breathing.

"What's that?" I asked. We were all alone in the street. We could speak freely.

"Well... It seems all so strange..."

"What's strange?"

"Uh... you know... We had made love... I've seen your naked body... I felt your skin on my skin!" he breathed... "I had my... you know what... inside of... you know where..." he blushed.

"Yes... and then?" I smile.

"Well, it has been wonderful... But now... I see you, you are so calm, so... As if you were just an aunt..."

"I AM an aunt..." I snorted, smiling even more.

"yes, but I mean... As if I was a kid... And you were taking care of me... almost a mother... I mean, looking at you, now... I could never think you could do it... Even less, with me... But you did it... It's so strange..."

"That is, I look too chaste and pure to make sex?" I snorted, always smiling.

"More or less..." he nodded. "To make sex with ME, especially..."

I shook my head, smiled at him, caressed his face. Just like a mother.

"Remember, boy: that's my lesson. Under the dress, every woman is naked. And with the man she chose, for a night, or for the life, every woman is a whore. And the more she is a whore, the better."

"You are not a whore..."

"Who knows? I'm happy to be a whore with my husband, when we make love. And I've been happy to be a whore with you. But don't kid yourself: I will be no more. With you. You have understood it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did..." he nodded, without looking at me. With another face. No more boyish. My sex, that time, had been a miracle. And miracles happen just once. I belonged to my husband, because I loved him, and because he was my husband. He had had already more than he expected, more than he had the right to expect. "Dernier cadeau du pére Noél", the last gift from Santa Klaus, or from Dèd Moròs, as we say... Now he knew what it was to be in bed with a woman, between the arms of a woman, between the legs of a woman, inside the sex of a woman... And he had not paid for it: a woman had given herself to him, because she liked him. Because he was nice. He deserved it. He could have it.

It had happened once, it could happen again. After he served out his time, and who knows, even during his time in the army... Other women, other beds, other good feelings... A good reason to survive the months to come, the army, whatever it was. Maybe he was thinking so, while he was breathing hard again, but more relaxed, his spine straight. Now he felt himself a man. And I have contributed to that...

"May I speak about you... when I will be in the army?"

"To your brothers in arms? Of course, yes. But you are not obliged to tell all the truth. You will be not in a courtroom. Got the picture?"

"Got it." he nodded, always without looking at me, but smiling. "No names, no places... "

"A gentlemen enjoy and keep mum. Remember." I smiled. He nodded, smiling too.

"I will just say that you were a Russian... And a lady." he decided. I nodded. A lady, not a whore... He had a doubt: "But what if they don't believe me?"

"I've thought of that." I said. I looked into my purse. It was my farewell gift to him, my last surprise. "Show them it..."

He took the stuff i had taken from my purse. A pair of slip with many small "matrioskas" pictured on it. Undoubtedly "made in Russia". He smiled.

"Thank you... Thank you for everything..." he said. The bus had come. He hugged me, and I kiss him on his cheeks, three times, "the Russian way", without any malice.

He went away. And I came back home.

When my man came back, I had set up the bed-couch where Paolo had slept (and not only slept). Now it was just a couch again. Just a couch. And all the rest went normally.

Just when we were in bed, I thought I had to tell him what I had done. This time it was not so ashamed, but I did not feel at ease either. I was happy to be with him, to feel his body, his smell, and to have left our bed intact for ourselves. But I wanted all to be clear, even that time. That last time.

"You know what I did, don't you?" I said.

"Yes." he said. Nothing else.

And then I felt I had done the wrong thing. With the best intentions, with my man's consent, but the wrong thing. He was lying on a side, I saw his back. And I started to caress it, kiss it...

"You're not obliged." he said. Without sarcasm.

"I've not even been obliged to keep living... " I said.

He snorted, then leaned on his back and let me mount over him. I looked in his eyes. He was not angry.

"Do you want me? Now?"

He shook his head no, but I knew he did not refuse me out of despising. I felt his hand on my neck, in my hair, on my nape... He did not need to reoccupy his territory on the double, in order to get even. I belonged to him, and he knew that. I had done what I had done just because he allowed me to do that. If not, it would have remained just another fantasy... But his hands were not a fantasy. Big, strong, warm, they knew my body, point by point...

I would have liked to tell him something, that his nephew has been clever, that I knew he had given him some lesson, and that he had learned them. Very well. But I said nothing. I had an incredible man, a man who had gifted me a freedom he did not want in exchange. But even the incredible men have some limits... Better not to push too hard...

So I just let him caress me, as If I was a dog, and he, my master. I felt that those hands could have beaten me, massacred me, with impunity, with no hurdle. I would have known why, known that I had deserved it. And I would have kept loving him, even while he pounded me... But they just stroked me, while I asked him to pardon me again, eyes closed, without a word...

Yes: if he would have met some Japanese or the like, and would have wished to have a one-off with her, now I would have given him my permission... Just a one-off, of course!

He took my neck again, to make me turn my head, without hurting me. He wanted to look at my face.

"But now, don't do it again. Really. At least since I can make it through. Got it?"

I smiled. Of course, no more, really. With who else should I have had to do that? Yes, I knew what they said about, say, black men... But with the due respect, a man is not only centimeters. And however, he had centimeters enough too...

"And do you believe someone else would like to do it with me, yet?"

"First!" he said, reaising his hand. Then he looked behind his back. "Don't push!"

I laughed. He acted as if he was at the top of a breadline, in the Brezhnev era... It was a way to tell me I was a nice, sexy woman yet, and many men would have liked to sleep with me... Him, first of all... I shook my head.

"I would kill you, if you had done what I had done today..."

"The world is nice, because it's variegated..." he shrugged.

I hugged him. The world is mad, my love. And you have decided to laugh about this madness, till it's possible. And you are right. If not, how could you bear with me? With a mad whore like me?

EPILOGUE

They have let me in. I have seen the nurses we met when my mother in law died. And she has seen me. I surely have an awful face... I did not sleep, I almost did not eat and drink... Yes, I know, I could have gone home, take some soothing herbal tea, or daisy, sleep, pray... I could not do anything, here, absolutely nothing... All rational talks, right?

Well, I am not a computer, too... I HAD to stay here... Tired, desperate, giddy, but here... "Never judge a wife till her burial", our saying goes... "Bòje mòy", it's me, your useless servant... yes, yes, Sashka who could not keep his legs close, yes, it's me... "Bòje", I DON'T WANT to have to judge him, please... If it's not possible to die together, if we can't die the same day, let HIM judge ME! You've got the picture, right?

Nothing. No way. Thanks anyway.

He is there. No mask, no tubes, just the patch of the drip still on his arm. So quiet! Just like we were chatting after love... Yes, DURING love he was no more like once... Well, ME TOO was no more like once... "The widow mourns the dead, and thinks of the living one", so he said... But I don't think of ANY living one, really...

And however, WHO would think of ME? Yes, the eyes are nice yet, but all the rest... I am REALLY a "bàbushka", now, or not so different.. Yes, maybe an old gentleman, an affair between widows... melancholic and sweet... A boy? For God sake! I could give some tips, if someone would ask me to, but "practical lessons"... Those days are gone...

Thank God, no economic problems. The house is mine, enough savings, the reversible pension, even his life insurance... Just one problem. Him no more. "Yevò bòlshe nièt". Not in this world...

I close my eyes... No... No, it's not dead... You will see... Now he will sigh... He will not even open his old soldier's eyes... And he will say... he will say...

"Privèt, uvajàemaya, kak vàshe sdoròvie?"

Well... He said it... say what you will, think what you will, but he SAID it! Hello, honorable lady, how is your health...

"NURSE!" I shout.

-

AS AN AFTERWORD...

-

Dear Galia!

We are glad to know that you all are fine, and your daughter has started to teach at the MGU. He is a good and clever girl, he deserves it. And you too.

We are fine too. The rehabilitation therapy at the hospital is over, for my husband. Now he just needs some rest at home. He wanted so much to start to walk around again, so we do it. This time I am the nurse, really, and he is the veteran. And I like it.

Of course he had to follow a diet and other prescriptions, so, say, no onion soup, by now.

He has to be careful with some activities (you know what I mean), but every now and then, the old bear gives some swipes of his paws... And I like that too, of course...

Yes, every now and then, he thinks of what he had undergone. Then he stops and stare, looking at nothing precise. I know that glance. I saw my father too, looking that way, sometimes. I think it's the glance of all the "veterans", of those who have been through a lot. As the song says: "you've seen the Death in the eyes, you Guard's, sergeant"... It's hard to forget. I think he will never make it.

But he feels no panic. He has become even more "philosophical". He just takes for granted that he will go first. And he says the real problem will be mine. He would like me to find "a friend", or so he says, before it happens. Not for the money, not even for the sex. Just for not to remain all alone... He knows I hate loneliness...

I have thought about him as about a son, sometimes, that is, quite often. But it seems that thing is mutual. For all he sees, I am really an old girl, maybe unable to look after herself as it takes... At my age! Well, it's a way like another to keep being young...

All the best for you and your family.

Alexachka.

PS: if Carlo is always interested on breeding the future superior race... No kidding: I know a boy who can fit for your daughter. His name is Paolo, he is the nephew of my husband. He has a good job, a good wage, and now there is the chance (almost the surety indeed) that he will be sent to the Russian filial of his firm. He speak Russian very well: a rarity, now, in Europe. And he is a nice boy too. He is gentle, smart, hardworking, and i had reason to think (sorry for my explicit words) that he is very apt in bed. Don't ask me how I knew that!

All the best, again...

THE END