The Rascally Romance (in a single helluva-long letter about a flicking-short life) - Сергей Николаевич Огольцов

And after ramming into way too many "eager-top-unsurrenderable-downs" that felt even refreshing for a change. More so because she knew how to use her lower parts. "And may I do it that way?" And she would get unleashed in such a "way" which I never imagined possible, and had not even dreamed of. Yes, you may and welcome all the way!

When dropping to Room 72, she skillfully used the scanty furniture set there… In between having a sex we were on genuinely friendly terms. She shared her plans for buying me a pair of slippers, and promised to cure would I catch a venereal disease. She told me…

Well, it doesn't matter though, or else I will never finish, like after a mug of medicinal alcohol, sort of. In a word, I wanna say, Balzac was not a fool, albeit a Frenchman…

~ ~ ~

At the May Day demonstration, willing or not, you had to carry the portrait of one or another member of the Political Bureau of the Central Committee of the CPSU, the privilege rooted in your being one of just 4 boys at your course. After airing the member over the main square in the institute's columns, it still had to be taken to the Old Building and handed over to House Manager.

When I was leaving the House Manager storeroom, Slavic warned me that he saw Eera in front of the Old Building, and she asked him where I was. Slavic knew that I had broken up with her for over a month already, that's why he warned.

The separation was painful for me. The evenings stretched endlessly long without her voice over the telephone. And I was missing her German-like gait from afar… Seeing her occasionally in the institute corridors, I got it over and over again that there was no one as beautiful as her, and my heart tightened bitterly. But still and all I had to be firm and put the final period, after all…

So, to avoid an unbearably painful encounter, I decided to sit tight in the Old Building until she left. Moreover, the day before while on a country outing, Maria and I arranged to spend May Day at her place…

For the outing, we went to the station, and, in the bright rays of the sunset, walked along the path by the tracks to the forest on the outskirts. On the way, we met a couple of workmen. One of them started to yap, but I just ignored the bumpkin – anyone would envy when you walk so a juicy beauty to the wood, while the nightingales around tear themselves apart in so vigorous trills that stand upright like one solid wall of sound…

We found a clearing among the trees, and in the gathering darkness, I built a fire. It was very warm, she even took off her cloak. We did not have glasses for the wine brought along… "More! A! More!.."

The bonfire was already burnt out, and screening for a sec the iridescent glow from its coals, some dark shadow rushed across the clearing. A homeless dog. How he scared her!

There is nothing more appealing than a freaked out woman, and you, a kinda epic knight, protectively embrace her shoulders. And your stud feels like a ride… "More! Mo-ore!. A!."

We were returning already in the middle of night and had to wait for long at the stop for the last bus carrying workers from the defense plant Progress after their second shift. Or rather, female workers, there were only women on the bus giving Maria way too hostile looks. Like, we were slaving like damned, while that slut horsed around with her cuntfucker. In spring even females grow intolerant and bitchy…

That is to say, that I did not need that meeting with Eera and I waited for another 20 minutes before I left the Old Building.

"Sehryozha!" She still waited between the massive columns on the high porch.

Well, what can I do if she's so beautiful? If I have to keep in check my breath, hold my heart back from leaping out?. We walked round the corner bypassing the marble plaque "Here N. V. Gogol studied in…", and stopped beneath one of the tall XIX-century windows overhead. I was appalled by the wanness of her face, not sickly pallid though but like the pure white of exquisite, almost transparent, porcelain. And I couldn’t tell what clamped my heart in a mightier grip – her beauty or my pity for her.

What a witless brute I’ve been, torturing both her and myself for so long, and so savagely! At last, I am embracing her again. She both laughs and cries in my chest. O, how I love her!.

That cursed month she was coming home and just lay down prostrate overwhelmed by the pain felt verbatim physically, and nothing mattered, absolutely nothing. Mommy did not know what to do, "What's wrong with you, Eera?"

"Nothing."

Stupid beast! Bastard! How pale she is! How desperately beautiful. "Come on to the Hosty. The room is vacant."

She happily hurried home to change and tell her mother that she was celebrating and staying overnight at a girlfriend's.

(…most of all in the Soviet holidays I liked the calm condensing after demonstrations… The streets got void of traffic and pedestrians; people retired to their homes, start celebrating…)

The hostel was also empty. Except for Room 72 on the third floor. That was our room, our hostel, our celebration. The Feast of Reconciliation…

Sveta might nigh spoil the feast… Taking advantage of the vacuum in the silent corridor of locked doors, I ventured to the toilet in my underpants and on the way back I dropped into the washroom. It was there that Sveta screwed me over, "What's that!"

And she began to talk my ear off that she'd never put up with any personnel extension without preliminary coordination. She was forgiving me Eera, forgiving Maria, but