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

a bit noisy, Eera came in to pacify us and make out the beds for you and me. Then she turned the light off, so that you would fall asleep sooner, and returned to the TV box because there was a replay of the New Year release of "Kinopanorama".

I stayed sitting in the dark in front of the new dressing table… I did not make any plans and everything went somehow by itself… After the sound of your breathing showed that you were fast asleep, I waited for another 5 minutes and then took you over to the folding bed-armchair. Then I undressed and lay down on the matrimonial double.

I lay for a long time with my hands under my head. The traffic along Red Partisans Street almost died out, but the noise of the rare cars became even more unbearable and so the glare of their headlights creeping over the window curtains… Poor Tonya. How could they possibly live here?.

Then I began to think about Eera and me: how could we come to live like this? Ladies first, yet for the simplicity’s sake it’s much easier to start with me thanks to my straightforward accountability because there left nothing in me but a mixture of insatiable hanker and jealousy, bitter and sharp. All other feelings got successfully quenched to avoid distressful pangs, but these two proved being stronger than me.

Now, what about her? At the institute, she was lucky to pull such a winning trump from the pack. All the girlfriends pined away from envy. Then the girlfriends went away to work off for their diplomas where appointed, and the trump's reputation got drenched. Here enters mummy with the gold ring: you're so young, a good man still will come round the corner, better if he were a military pilot, whose salaries far above the miserable 120 rubles.

So, what in the end? We just have what we have…that Soviet Pushkin, the sycophant of a literary collaborator, had called it lust…stupid nerd…lust comes when there is no more craving… And again there rose the snarl of a car engine coming from afar, nearer and nearer, from the Airfield-Area.

The creeping light crawls up over the curtains, arching its back, drooping forward, yes, we've found the way to smooth out the pesky wrinkle in the final phase of natural flow and dodge the snapping interruption of the ebullient passionate raptures for the sake of birth control the way like Arthur Clark's astronauts' jumps from one spaceship's lock to the other's without their spacesuits thru the void of cosmos with a side bonus of semen application for the lotions of more beneficial effect for the skin than that of mummia, ginseng, and even fabulous ojb grass because the inquisitive digressions of those loving to love their beloved lovingly will beat any Kama Sutra, I always knew that without reading a single line from it but is it worth the while?. well, I don't know… I've always loved them as they are, without acrobatics, S&M role-playing and stuff… just, "C'mon, babe, let's do us feel good"…straight thrill, you know…no frills and long live vanilla fucking…

All you need is VF!

All you need is VF!

VF is all you need!

rrata-ta-ra-ra-ta-ta

(All together now!)

All you nee…

but wait-wait-wait! how about suggestive music backdrop? mirrors in the ceiling like in those Roman poets' bedrooms… I kicked poetry already… a-and the initializing blow job, or finalizing for that matter… ready to go without?.. well, it's a game for 2 after all, whatever baby wants, she should get…as a noble self-made gentleman, I can't withhold her pleasures, eh?…

Here's another car's wailing… they are just wrenching your soul out when passing by… Poor Tonya, how could they live here?.

Then thru the door to the living room, there came the voices wishing goodnight each other. Eera entered the bedroom. In the light of the streetlamp behind the window tulle curtain, she picked the needed vial up from the bevy by the dressing table mirror and went out again. The unyielding hardon made me tense and strained.

It took a long time before she returned and closed the door, then she bent over you on the bed-armchair to check if I was asleep. You slept like an innocent baby and never woke up at what followed.

Eera lay by my side under the blanket, felt with her hand my shoulder, abruptly recoiled, and cried out, "You?! Get out of here!"

"Come on, quiet…"

"Dad!"

SHE CALLED FOR HELP TO GET PROTECTED FROM ME

I did not touch her, I just lay on my side with my arm bent at the elbow to prop my jaw in the capped hand above the pillow and idly watched, like a beach-goer estimating with an imperturbable air how many bathers were there in the water. Oddly, I became a complete outsider, a listless on-looker because everything somehow turned all the same to me.

Evenly, with unconcerned calmness, I pronounced, "I'm fed up with you."

Said I that? No! Not true! Not fed up! It's not me!

And yet it was I who uttered the words, which were the part of the ritual. What ritual?!. It made no difference because I did not care anymore.

Still leaning my head against my hand, I held out the other one and weakly slapped its palm against the soft cheek.

I?! Cuffed her?! Of course, not. It was not a slap, it was a part of the ritual.

She turned speechless from astonishment, but it was too late. I dropped back upon the pillow and pulled the blanket up to my chin.

The switch clicked, in the raw light from the ceiling, her parents and sister crowded in the doorway. She jumped out of the bed and joined the flock. Vitta started to emit the traditional screams of a family squabble. Ivan Alexeyevich in his pajamas stood with his head bowed.

I saw how difficult it was for him to make the decision. Or take it. What if I was stark naked? Before his princedom harem? But there was nothing I could do to help him. My role