Russian Kiss by M. Demetrice

He made love to me while speaking Russian. The way he looked into my eyes, into my soul, made me tingle all over. I didn’t understand the words then but he told me to remember them. After our lovemaking, he handed me a collection of Russian movies.
Russian Kiss
Russian Kiss by M. Demetrice
“These are all in Russian dialect but they have English subtitles.” “What did you say in there?” I ask. I wanted to know, I needed to know. I could tell it was laced with endless endearment. “Watch the movies,” he commands, kissing me before leaving. It took me two weeks to go through the movies. I watched them over and over again, finding words that I heard him whisper while our bodies were entangled. I was glad that I had such a good memory. Five heart wrenching weeks passed before he graced me with his handsome presence, it had been the longest we ever been apart. Family obligation requiring him to return to his homeland to visit a mother he hadn’t seen in over a year and bury a father that he loath with venom-hatred. “Did you miss me,” I solicit, excited to see his safe return. “More than you know,” he avow, pulling me down and taking me into his arms. He smells so good, fresh with manliness. There were new stumble on his chin and a little grey had grown into the temple of his hair. “You’re aging,” I tease, playing with the grayness with my fingers. It was sexy; it matched the deep grayness of his eyes. “Blame it on my homeland. My family is falling apart and I can’t bring myself to feel sad. My father brought pain and they went along with it.” “Ivan, I went through the DVDs.” He trace my chin with his fingers, his touch electric. I imagined it while he was gone; he had touched every part of me until I had no other choice but to truly appreciate my body because he appreciated it more. “And how did it go?” “It was hard, some words sound so close but I think I got it.” Ivan brought his lips to my neckline and laid a long kiss to the nape of my neck. “The words, what were they?” he breathe into my ear while taking his thumb and outlining my bottom lip. “Zontie, tell me exactly what I whispered to you while I memorized your body with my Russian hands.” Suddenly I became shy, I didn’t want to say it in English, the words now impacting my very soul. I thought about that night five weeks ago and shivered, his words now deeper than anything I have ever felt . . . *** Our first kiss was magical. I say that because it was unexpected. Everyone would like their first kiss to be perfect, ours wasn’t. Being the only outsider at a party of close friends would make anyone nervous, inside jokes and mannerisms unknown to the outsider – and that’s what I was – had me ready to go home after fifteen minutes. By hour two of trying to have a decent conversation but, instead, just looked upon as a buzzing fly, I eased outside and sipped on wine wishing for something much stronger. It was a high-rise apartment in a city I had never been too. Standing on that windy balcony holding on to my jacket and drink, I actually enjoyed the quiet and stillness of the balcony to the noise and snorts inside. I was just about ready to catch a cab to the hotel when Ivan stepped onto the balcony and closed the glass door behind. “Hey,” he simply greeted, standing beside me, holding onto the railing. I was not that close to the balcony’s edge. That railing could be loose and go at any moment sending me eleven flights down to the hard unyielding payment. “Hey.” I watched him as he looked over the railing. It made me nervous and I wanted to pull him back from the edge. “Could you not do that,” I requested, nervously. I didn’t want to hear his screams when he fell forward and down and I definitely didn’t want to be a witness to it. He stepped back. “Sorry. I have it bad doing that.” He paused, contemplating his next words. “If you step at the edge and hold on to the railing it feels as if you’re hovering over the world. You have all the traffic and the people below yet you feel invisible.” “No, thank you,” I reply, watching him continue to stand too close to the edge, only the railing separating him from the long flight down. “What? Heights isn’t your thing?” he jested. I liked his voice it was sort of deep and smoky with a slight accent I could not put my finger on. There was confidence and an easiness to it. “No. I love the view here but I can’t make myself look down.” “You should try it. It’s very freeing. Trust me the railing is secure and completely safe.” “How can I trust you if I don’t even know you,” I utter, finishing off my drink. I hadn’t met him yet. Inside, I could hardly get a rise out of anyone for conversation except my friend who begged me to come. I held on to the empty glass, the wind whipping around my legs, escaping through the pant opening at the bottom. “I’m Ivan and you are?” “Zontie.” He extended his hand and I shook it. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Zontie. We’re about to have a game of spades, you want in?” I turn and glance inside at the group of friends sitting around talking. “I don’t think they like me much, I think I’ll turn in for the night.” “Hey, don’t be a party pooper, you got one person that likes you and my opinion is all that matters.” He leans against the railing, his back facing the outside world and the traffic below. I turn my eyes away; he looked as if he would do a back dive at any moment. “Please, don’t do that.” I wince, extending my hands to him as if I could grab and pull him in, if indeed the railing failed. “Play one game and I’ll stop.” I look back inside and then back at him, so what if he falls, I had warned him. Still it would be imbedded in my memory, this preventable death. “Okay, one game.” We played our game and for the first time that night, I enjoyed myself. It was because of Ivan. He was the clown of the group but also smart and witty. Smart comments from his friends were met by mockery from Ivan that made them whimper like dogs. I really liked him. The night became late and my friend was of course drunk and ready to go back to the hotel, but not with me but with an ex-boyfriend she had not seen since moving down to Texas. “What do you want me to do?” I ask in frustration. We were sharing a hotel room and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my night sitting outside of our room hearing moans of pleasure from I’m sure unprotected sex. “He doesn’t have his own apartment?” I grumble. “He stays with his mother.” I roll my eyes at this pathetic knowledge. “One reason not to sleep with him,” I smirk. “Come on, Zontie, please.” “Where will I go?” I snap. I was tired and ready to take a shower and lie down for a much needed rest. “You can stay here. Ivan seems to like you,” her eyes twinkled. “First thing in the morning you can come back to the hotel.” “I don’t know Ivan, Rebecca. I just met him.” I was whispering but wanted to scream at my rich privileged friend who looseness was known to every person she met. “Everything alright over here?” Ivan inquired, walking up with Rebecca’s ex in tow. “Ivan, I was wondering if Zontie could stay the night here while Brian and I go have some fun.” Ivan looked at her then at me. It was apparent that I was not liking the situation. “Sure, yeah, that’s fine, if Zontie’s okay with it.” I looked at Rebecca who had the “please do this for me” look on her face and then at her ex who looked like he had too many black-market pills and wondered why I was in New York with a spoil rich hussy, but I knew the answer. It was a favor to her father, whom my mother worked for, to watch over her and make sure she didn’t get in any trouble in the Broadway city. “Yes, but when nine o’clock rolls around, I will be sliding my card through that door and he better be gone,” I hiss, walking away. I was so mad, more at myself than at her. I could say no but she could easily make this free trip worse than it already was. When they were gone with everyone else, I was left alone with Ivan. He was a gracious host showing me the guest bedroom. “I could get you something to sleep in,” he offers. “No, I’m fine. I’ll manage, but thanks anyway.” I look around the spacious room. It held a queen size poster bed, a large flat panel TV and an en-suite. I wondered what this apartment cost him. I heard New York prices were outrageous. “Zontie, I’m going to open a bottle of wine, you’re more than welcomed to join me. Rebecca can make anyone a nervous wreck,” he smiled, attempting to ease the tension. I agree, “Yeah, tell me about it!” but then more softly, “You got anything stronger?” “Sure, how about vodka.” “That’s perfect,” I answer, following him to his small corner bar. We sat around on his balcony warmed by vodka. He did most of the talking; I listened as he talked of his family, moving to New York and work. “Sometimes, I want to just take my money and move away. Visit all fifty states before settling down and having children.” “How long have you been in New York?” I ask, truly interested. “Two years this December. I moved to the states when I was nine with my aunt and uncle. They died in a car crash four years ago.” “I’m sorry,” I mumble, the vodka swimming wonderfully around my head. “They lived a great life. They were more parents to me than my parents back in my homeland.” “Your parents are still alive?” “Yes,” he simply answers. I was feeling good with the wind whipping around me and the liquor circulating through my body. “Tell me about yourself, I seem to be doing all the talking.” He poured me more vodka, loosening my tongue. “Nothing to really tell. I recently graduated yet I’m still unsure what to do with my life. For money, I tutor math students. I’m in New York as a favor and this is the first time since I got off the plane that I’ve enjoyed myself.” “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself,” he turn toward me. The wind was getting cooler and I hugged myself. My jacket was thin, not made for the wind that had come up suddenly. “Wow, this wind is something; I’ll go get us a blanket.” He came back with a thick fur blanket made for a king size bed. We sat together, close, warm underneath the furry bedspread. “Even up here, the light pollution prevents you from seeing the stars.” I look up wishing for clearer skies. Ivan nods. “That’s one thing I miss about Russia – the stars. Wherever you were, they shined bright and undisturbed. I slept many nights under them attempting to run away from home.” I do not respond. I simply listen to his voice – it held me – the articulation of his slightly Russian accent relaxing me. “And I miss the smell. Before our luck changed, my mother was a baker. She baked from the time she rose till the moment she rested. Here, all you can smell is this nation’s melting pot over boiling.” I think about his statement, my head woozy from my drink. I should go lie down but the enjoyment of sitting nestled beside him, our shoulders touching has me grounded. “Ivan, are there a lot of black people where you come from?” Soon as I ask, I regret the question but Ivan answers quickly. “Not really, very few. Racism has increased. Every day, I read on the internet of some racial unrest. However, I think this country is worst with its injustice.” “As a black woman, I see few racial problems, less than black men but today was the first time I felt like I was the only black dot in the room and it was like a scarlet letter. Your friends are peculiar.” “They are but if I could explain. I’m not taking up for them but I just want to make it clear why they act the way they do.” “Please, explain,” I beseech, interested in what he had to say. “It wasn’t because of your color, it is because of your wonderful thick size.” “Oh,” surprised by his statement. “This is a place of size zeroes. I’ve never been attracted to these small women, when I saw you I couldn’t stop smiling. You are beautiful.” I put my head down. His bluntness making me suddenly shy. “Well, you are. You represent the average woman and I like what I see.” I blush. “So your friends are a bunch of hypocritical people who can’t stand a woman over a size two. Is that it?” “No. They were just caught off guard. You are completely different from them. All they are interested in is finding that one role that will make them star, working out and what kind of salad they are going to eat later.” “Hey, I work out.” “Zontie?” “What?” “Next time you’re in New York will you stop by and see me? I would love to take you out.” “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be back to this state again.” “How about I come visit you instead?” he asked. “That sounds nice, give me a chance to let my friends treat you snobbishly.” “I look forward to it.” *** The next morning, I awoke to Ivan arms wrapped around my waist. An empty bottle of vodka lying on the floor next to us, the bright sky of the bustling city moving along below. He moved, slipping his arm from my waist and I scooted away, wiping my face with my hands wondering how I fell asleep in his arms. “Wow, we fell asleep on the balcony; I’ve never done that before,” he admits, yawning and stretching. “What time is it?” I run my fingers through my hair. He squints at his watch with sleep in his eyes. “A little after seven. Do you want some breakfast?” “No. I think I’m going to just catch a cab to the hotel.” “Well, it’s not nine yet and I doubt Rebecca and Brian are up.” I don’t reply. I stand, go inside to the bathroom. I rinse my mouth, wash my face and make myself halfway decent. I will just have to interrupt her one night stand. When I come out, Ivan has orange juice and donuts waiting. “Eat something before you go,” he request, handing me a glass of orange juice. “Thanks.” I sit at the kitchen bar and nibble on a donut. “You know I meant what I said last night,” he begins. “We should exchange numbers and keep in touch.” I do not reply, a little unclear about what went on last night. “You okay?” “I’m okay, it’s just I didn’t expect to wake up in a home of a person I just met with his arms wrapped around me.” He smiles. “Oh, I see. You’re a little foggy about what happened. Nothing happened if that’s what you’re thinking. You fell asleep, I pulled you close, wrapped my arms around you and then went to sleep. That simple.” I slowly nod, picturing his strong arms pulling me close to his warm body. I quickly shake the image away and look down at my food. I just wanted to be back at the hotel where my things were. “So, how about that phone number,” he press, taking out his cell. “You aren’t kidding?” “I never kid.” Only when I give him my phone number, he calls for a cab. Standing before the cab, I awkwardly stuttered, “Well-well, I’ll see you later.” “See you later,” he promise, wrapping a scarf around my neck. It was chilly this morning. “I’ll get this back next time I see you.” I look into his eyes. “Okay.” I awkwardly smile. He was so close to me. I was just about to pull back when he kissed me lightly on the lips. Well, it got the corner of my mouth. With a mischievous grin he says, “I’ll aim better next time, huh,” he close the cab door. I wave goodbye. I did enjoy every moment with him. *** I still felt his lips on the corner of my mouth when I returned to Texas. Every night we talked and the conversation never waned. After two weeks of talking, he said he wanted to come down and see me. “Okay,” I simply reply, glad that he had brought it up first. “When?” “As soon as this Thursday if it’s okay with you. I would like to stay a week. Am I imposing?” “No,” I quickly answer. A deep part of me wanted him here yesterday but Thursday would do. My work schedule was flexible and it would be nice to see him. I look around my apartment noticing things I needed to take care of before his arrival. When I spot him, my heart does a somersault. He is more handsome than I remember. I wave to get his attention and he strolls toward me, drops his bag, takes me in his arms, and kiss me passionately before the crowd at the airport. “Wow,” I gasp, backing away after he releases me. “Wow,” I repeat. I feel as if my heart will tear through it at any moment. “Wow,” I repeat a third time. I was not expecting that but there it was the most passionate kiss I have ever received. “Zontie, you look great. I kept going over the scenarios in my head – what I would do when I saw you. Shake your hand, give you a hug or kiss you. I guess the latter won.” “Well, welcome to Texas,” I beam. A blush heating my dark face. I was still tongue tied by that awesome kiss. When we arrive at my apartment, pride shows on my face. I went out and splurged on a new area rug and sofa. I had been in this apartment for the last three years and it was time for some new things. When he stepped in, everything was clean and sparkling, the air fresh and the walls freshly painted. “Nice place,” he compliments, looking around. “This apartment is the size of your master bedroom.” “Yeah, but you done well with the space you have.” “I’ll take your bag,” he hands it to me and I put in the bedroom. “You pack light for a week.” “I shipped my garment bag, it should arrive tomorrow. I had a bag stolen after I checked it in, since then, I avoid checking in any bags.” “Going to New York was my first plane ride.” I shake my head at the memory. “What an eye opener.” “I have lost count of my flights. I think I fly more than I drive.” “Do you even own a car? Rebecca told me most New Yorkers don’t own cars or drive.” “I own one. Next time you visit, I’ll take you driving.” I sit and turn to him with one leg hitched underneath me. Now that he was here, I wasn’t sure what we would do. Alone now, I felt strange, not sure if this was a good idea after all. “There’s not a lot to do here,” I nervously inform. I bite my lip liking the way the right side of his lip is turned up in a mischievous grin. “I didn’t come to see the town, I came to see you.” “You are so blunt, Ivan.” “So I’ve been told. I’m a little hungry, how about seafood. I noticed one on our drive in.” “Yeah, it’s called Sea’s. I hear the foods decent.” We ate, drank and did a little sightseeing. Ivan was captivated by our country accent. “You have a slight country accent, yourself but some of these people sound right out of a western. They’re not too keen on interracial dating I see.” “No,” I agree. “But it has gotten better. You see more and more mix couples now more than ever.” We walk the mall and he make some small purchases. It had been a long day and I was ready to relax. I felt a little jetlagged even though I had not been the one to take the flight. Back at my home, we lounge on the sofa, fresh from a shower. Ivan had managed to sit close to me taking my hand in his and caressing it. I ease my hand away, uncomfortable with his touch. “Since you are my guest, I’m going to give you the bed and I’m going to take the sofa.” “No, I’ll take the sofa,” he objects. “No, I insist. This couch is a pull out so it’s okay.” “Maybe we should both take the bed. I can be a complete gentleman when it requires.” “You can take the bed, I will take the couch.” I stand, gathering sheets and a blanket. Maybe we should have spoken about the sleeping arrangements, I was just glad that he wanted to visit but I wasn’t ready to sleep with him. I knew nothing about him and unlike Rebecca, I wasn’t promiscuous. Ivan followed me into the bedroom, watching me as I pull back the covers. “Okay. I’ll take the sofa. I’m a late sleeper and an early riser so it’ll be best.” “Okay,” I agree, not wanting to argue further about the sleeping arrangements. “I guess we should have talked about it before you came.” “It wouldn’t have changed anything, I still would have come.” “Well, I’m tired Ivan, just make yourself at home.” “Okay.” He looks up at me, his eyes holding mine. “Goodnight, Zontie.” “Goodnight.” I hardly slept that night, the thought of him so close driving me crazy. *** The days went fast and by the fourth night, I decided to invite some friends over. They welcomed Ivan with open arms. That’s what I loved about country towns, we never met a stranger. They loved Ivan’s accent, they couldn’t decide whether it was Russian, Midwestern or something else entirely. “I’ve been all over,” Ivan brags. “However, I spent the longest time in Iowa where my aunt and uncle worked doing some government research until they were killed.” This brought sympathy from my girlfriends, another thing about the country, the girls here would steal your man faster than it took to get him in the first place. Ivan graciously backed away from their advances, laying a hand around my back or shoulders, sometimes placing kisses on my cheek or forehead. I liked the attention and I loved the jealously it caused my friends. The night went on with a lot of gossip, card games and drinks until early in the morning. “Well, that went okay,” I surmise, cleaning up. “Yes, not one snob in the bunch. The men are so macho and the girls are so, well, I don’t have a word for them. I wouldn’t call them friends though, try that in New York and you’ll end up in the hospital.” “Here also, but they know how far to take it,” I answer, taking up for them. “If you say so.” The cleanup was quick and by 3:30, I was done with my shower and in bed. The next morning, I awoke to Ivan cooking breakfast while watching a court show on TV. “You need cable,” he told me. “I miss CNN.” “I’m not home enough to even watch TV,” I explain. Breakfast was good and we sat around until noon then left to check out the new Will Smith movie. The week wrapped up quickly and it was time for Ivan to return home. “I can’t believe it’s already over,” he grumble, sipping on a glass of wine. “Yeah, I’m glad you came, it was fun having you here.” “So, I guess you will have to come see me next.” I didn’t want to tell him that I couldn’t afford that sort of trip. The airfare alone would break me. “I’ll pay for it of course,” he says, watching me. “We’ll see,” taking a sip of my wine. “Zontie?” “Yeah?” “I want you to come see me. I’m going to you a ticket and then it’s up to you.” “Ivan, I don’t want you to pay for anything.” He takes my hand, squeeze, and then let’s go. I could tell he wanted to say more. We sat watching a Russian movie in black and white, English subtitles running across the screen. By the end of the movie, I was still lost; I guess not concentrating on the movie, his presence having an effect on me even after being in my presence for six straight days. “Strange movie,” I comment, watching him take it out and place in its case. “I’ll leave it with you. It’s much better a second viewing.” He returns, sitting closer and wraps his arm around my shoulders. We watch the late night news while he rubs his thumb up and down my neck. Other than an occasional peck on the lips when my friends were over, we had not kissed like the day he arrived a week ago. I was glad he was taking it slow and not being forward with me but I felt I had let him down in a way by holding him at arm’s length. I turn toward him. “So, what time,” I begin, turning toward him. He was watching me. I smile and begin again. “What time is your flight?” “Eleven.” He continue to watch me, his eyes lingering on my lips. I became self-conscious. “I guess we better lay it down. We have to get up early to take you to the airport. You’re welcome to sleep with me tonight if you want.” “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that, and it’s more a want, a need, yeah, a deep need to hold you close.” “Hey, no funny business.” “Not even a little,” he quip. “Come on, crazy, let’s go to bed.” *** At the airport, it was hard to say goodbye. I give him a long hug and when I pull back, he pulls me close and kiss me gently. He had been a total gentleman last night and did nothing but hold me close while we slept. “Zontie, what is this?” he ask, my face in his hands. His eyes holding mine. “What you mean?” I glance around. People walked around us heading to their destination. The announcer calls for his flight. “Us. Is this a relationship?” I look down, then back up and softly answer, “I guess – I guess it’s a long distance relationship.” I hold his gaze wanting to see his reaction. His eyes brightens. “I’ll miss you,” he confesses, kissing me again. I smile pleased that he feels the exact way I feel. “Call me when you land, okay.” “I will.” I watch him until he is out my view. I turn to head back to my car only to turn back to find him standing. “Promise me you’ll come see me!” he shouts. “You came all the way back to tell me that?” “Promise me, Zontie!” “I promise, now go catch your flight before you miss it.” *** When I arrive in New York, Ivan meets me with a big bouquet of flowers and a welcomed smile. He lifts me from the ground and gives me a huge hug and a kiss. People are watching but I don’t care. “I missed you,” I confess. “I missed you, too,” he says, handing me the flowers. “I love them, thank you.” “How did you like first class?” “It was wonderful. I felt like a queen. People were looking around wondering if I was some singer or something. It was great.” I hadn’t seen him in over a month and through his persistence, I would stay for a week. My folks back home were interested in who he was and why I had not brought him around. The honest answer was that I had to be sure he was the one. I just didn’t introduce them to anyone. If this didn’t work out, I would have fun along the way and I prayed that I would not fall in love – I couldn’t take another heartbreak if this didn’t work out. During my visit, he took me to see Color Purple and Wicked. I was hooked. I couldn’t wait to return and see another Broadway show. I even went to a ballet, which put tears in my eyes. I experienced my first art gallery exhibit and Ivan bought a small piece for me that I couldn’t stop looking at. It was a simple art piece of an old, downtrodden man holding onto his grandchild who love for his grandfather was apparent in his bright brown eyes. I saw my life in that piece. The week went great. Every night, I laid in his arms, we both talked of dreams, death of love ones, life and aspirations. This night we talked of our relationship. “I want to be closer to you,” there is need in his voice when he says it. I knew this could not be. We were separated by 1700 miles. “Ivan, eventually this will dwindle. Let’s just say what it is. Long distant relationships never work.” “Then, I’ll move to Texas if I have to.” “You . . . in some country town. You’re bigger than that,” I proclaim. “Then you move. You could always tutor up here.” “But my family.” “Excuse after excuse, Zontie,” he whispers and he was right. I was afraid. I turn over and face him. “How do you know when to decide to take that leap?” I ask. “I’m not sure what this is,” I pause not wanting to say the words but did anyway. “This is an infatuation. It’s lust. Something new but when that newness wears off where will we be then?” “How can this be lust when we haven’t even had sex yet,” he defends. “Yes, you’re right, it’s an infatuation but in every new relationship there always is some kind of infatuation. As for lust, if it was that deep lust, we’ll be like your friend Rebecca and tearing at each other’s clothes and fucking liking rabbits.” I flinch, that was the first time I’ve ever heard him swear. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Zontie, but just take a leap. I could move or you could. See where things take us. Maybe it’s time to get out from under your parent’s wings. Take a leap of faith.” I stare at him. He was right. I’ve never done anything out of the ordinary. I was almost twenty-six years old and never done anything for me. *** I moved in and it felt like I had been transformed into a completely new person. I became more confident, freer to be myself. Ivan introduced me to an entire new crowd of eclectic carefree people, not those snobbish ones that I met when I first came up to New York. I was so happy with him and he with me. Ivan lived an expensive life but he never flaunted it. I wanted to ask him how he was able to afford his lifestyle but I thought it rude and he should be the one to bring it up. I did like that we were always together, his presence never irritating. We had been living together for six weeks now and I felt it was time to take the next leap. He had been so understanding, never trying to force himself on me. I went out alone and bought his favorite food to prepare for him and other things to get us in the mood. When I returned home, he was sitting on the balcony drinking a beer; it was the first time I had ever seen him drinking before supper. “What’s wrong?” He takes a long sip of his beer before answering. “My mother called.” “What she want?” “My father died. She wants me to come back to Russia to plan his funeral and square out his estate.” I go to him. “I’m so sorry, Ivan.” I wrap my arms around him, ignoring the beer on his breath. “I’m not,” he scowls. “My father was a bastard. He beat me every day until my aunt and uncle traded their land for me. I’m just pissed that I must return – return the same land that he sold me for.” My heart broke hearing this. To be treated so unkindly by your own father. I couldn’t imagine it. My loving and protective father never once laid a hand on me, even when I deserved it. “We have so much estate it’ll take weeks to square everything over.” I saw so much pain in his face, it made my heart ache. “It’s your family, Ivan. How long it takes, I’ll be here waiting.” I take the beer from his hand and lead him inside. “What you need is a long bath, a massage and some loving.” I lead him to the master bedroom. “I’ll run you a warm bath. Soak a little and I’ll come back to give you that massage.” “No, stay,” he demands, pulling me back. “I need you.” “You want me to soak with you.” “Yeah.” I’ve never been completely naked in front of him before, other than some heavy petting and oral sex on his part, this was a new experience. We undressed together, I never seen him naked below the waist and I tried not to look. This was a strange relationship and I’m surprised it took this long to get to this moment. After I was naked, I dimmed the lights, and stepped into the huge Jacuzzi tub, Ivan followed, easing behind me and taking me into his arms. I should be holding him instead. “Let me wash your hair,” I offer. “No, I just want to hold you like this.” “Okay.” He held me while warm aromatic water massage our bodies from all directions. I used his firm thighs as an armrest and leaned against his chest. Ivan caressed my arms causing goose bumps to surface upon my dark smooth skin. I bent my right leg, letting it fall to the side, causing my submerged lips to part. With his mouth near my ear, he asked if I’m okay, his lips lightly touching my lobe. I give a small nod and answer yes with a low moan. “Good,” he reply, leaning back and letting his body rest against the backsplash. I close my eyes and allow the sensation of the sixteen jets and the subtle touch of Ivan lulls me to sleep. When I wake, it is to Ivan applying shower gel to my shoulders. He wash my shoulders, arms, back and finally my breast. My dark nipples are rock hard anticipating the feel of his fingers upon them. He bathe and massages them, they are heavy in his hands. I wrap my arms around his neck, liking the way he tweaks my nipples. “Turn around,” he orders. I turn and face him. He is hard, his rigidness sticking straight up. I take the gel and towel from him and wash his chest, shoulders, and upper back. He has a naturally muscular built, the hair on his chest thin. I then work my way down, washing his stomach, then his hardness. “I want to make love to you,” he implores, his face full of passion. “I’m yours,” I answer, kissing him softly. We step out of the bath and take turn drying each other off. Ivan has his way with my breast before working his way down, hitching my leg on the edge of the tub. He licks my opening, sending me shivering. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I pull away, take his hand, and lead him to the bed. We are still slightly damp but it makes the moment more sensual. I lie on the bed and watch him as he light candles and click off the lights. He ease over me, kissing me passionately. His hardness rubs against my pelvis, his size just perfect for me. He begins speaking to me in Russian. “What are you saying?” I beseech, simply aroused by the language and his compassion. “Remember them,” he tells me in English. He kiss and licks my neck, trailing his way down to the other parts of my body. I try to return the favor but he pushes me back, taking complete control of my body. Ivan has me dizzy with desire. His touch makes me shiver, I feel so much love and endearment in his touch. The words he says, I now know in English . . . “You are my heart. Each day, I thank God that I wake up beside you. When I first saw you, I knew we would grow old together. I want you to have my children, be my wife, be my life. I love you more than my own soul. I would die for you.” All this spoken throughout the night of our lovemaking, over and over, imbedded into my memory. When he first entered me, I thought I would explode, however, he moves slow, very slow, looking into my eyes, filling me up with each slow thrust. So much pleasure made my heart skip several beats. “Don’t look away. Look at me. See how much I want you, I need you,” he tells me. “Be my forever and I promise I will never deny you my Russian kiss.” I hold onto him, meeting his thrust until all control goes out the door and we are meeting bliss together, he calling out my name and I, his. He takes my body all night, the next morning I am exhausted from his touch. *** “. . . . You want me to be Your Forever,” I repeat, twirling my fingers around a strand of his peppered hair. His long trip showed on his handsome face, however, the smile he gives me erase away the stress lines. “Very good my love,” he replies. “You also promised me a kiss,” I speak in his language. “Indeed I did.” Out of the blue he asked: “Zontie, will you marry me?” I can’t speak, I am dumfounded, speechless. “You were all I thought about while I was away. Many times, I awoke wishing you were lying beside me. I need you, just like I told you five weeks ago. I love you. Will you marry me?” He pulls out a diamond ring. I nod, my voice gone, my tears answering for me. The ring fit perfectly. “I love you,” he says in my language. In his original dialect, I reply, “I love you, too.”

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