RUSSIAN KISS
M. Demetrice
Copyright © 2015 M. Demetrice
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Disclaimer: Some material in this book is for mature audiences only and contain strong content.
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.
“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.