Bimbo Academy- The Complete Series

by Jen Eastwood

  The mix of tears and eyeliner shot down her cheeks as I grabbed her left wrist. As much as I wanted to hear her return it, should she ever revert in the future, this was the exact instant I wanted her to return to.

  Anya's memories, few of them humane or fond, flooded into my head. What I'd read about the day before played out like a movie inside my head. Cruelty, sadness, and the worst aspects of humanity received a whole new context.

  God, that's fucked up. I tried processing all of it, feeling the kind of despair you'd only feel after seeing everyone you love slaughtered in front of you. My mind was barely capable of maintaining the wall between her memories from my own after just a few seconds.

  The next step clicked in my head. Taking every shred of the painful events into my own self, I focused on the token inside my forearm. Before I gave out and had to send everything flowing back, I forced a block. The only part of her old self I allowed back was her decision to go through with it.

  Letting go, I slumped back and shivered on the couch like I was naked and outside on such a cold day. As awful as knowing what she had gone through could be, seeing the memories from her perspective had left a gaping wound on my soul. For the first time in my life, I understood what it felt like to need to step in front of a train. Standing at the brink, pondering how long I could handle the new memories I had taken from her, a voice grabbed me by the collar and jerked me back to safe ground.

  “Alexei!” Anya rattled my shoulders with both hands, her thighs straddled around my lap.

  I opened my eyes, Anya's face little more than a blur. As everything came back into focus, I saw the fear in her eyes. But this time, it was for me, not of her past.

  “What have you done? Why are you shaking so?” Anya kept shaking me herself as even more eyeliner traced down her cheeks.

  “I...” My body had taken just as much punishment, somehow. “You...”

  Anya swung an open hand all the way behind her. I braced for the impact. Suddenly, Lara snatched at her arm, holding it back.

  “Anya, you know what just happened. He did it for you.”

  “But why?” She looked at me as she asked. “This is not his burden.”

  Lara pulled her off of me and pushed Anya back down, face first into the couch beside me. “You ungrateful,” it was like she was about to start throwing punches, “fucking bitch!” Lara stopped just short of it. “You saw the look on his face. That was you just a few minutes ago!”

  “And now he is stuck like this.” Anya had the nerve to stand up and get right back in her face. “He is always making the problems of others his own.”

  “He,” Lara pointed at me, “is your fucking husband! What did you expect him to do? Leave you like that?”

  “I let myself be so pathetic?” For as heated as Lara was, Anya kept her composure. “I can not believe it.”

  The mental bricks stacked up around her memories, slowly quarantining them away from my own being. I wasn't quite as vulnerable as she had been anymore. Before they came to blows, I had to say it. “You still are.”

  Both of them stopped and looked at me. Anya bent at the hips, our noses almost touching. “I had that pathetic look in my eyes?”

  My left hand shot out, grabbing her band. I'm not cruel enough to make you remember, as a punishment, but I won't let you talk down about your other self. Her memory of the last several minutes, starting from when she slapped Lara, poured back into her.

  The rough edges in her expression softened into puffs of cotton. “That is what I was like?”

  “Do you fucking understand now? There's a reason I did it, and you know what it is, just as well as I do.”

  Her eyes watered again as I kept hold of her wrist. “Alexei,” she looked like her mind was reeling, “I did not know you would protect me like this.”

  “Why?”

  Something snapped in her brain, but unlike a psychotic break, it soothed the foul instincts in her head. “I did not know I needed to be protected.”

  I let go of her. “Well, now you know.”

  Without saying a word, Anya rose up and ran for the nearest door. She disappeared into the master bedroom.

  Lara and I stared at each other as we heard the sobbing on the other side. “Alex, did I just see that?”

  “Yeah, she finally broke down.” I wanted to get up and go to her. “As strong as she is, knowing why it happened without knowing the details was just too much for her.”

  “So she knows her memory's been wiped, and she prefers that?” Lara nudged me back down as I started to get up. “Alex, how bad was her past?”

  “If you knew, you'd hate the world.”

  Lara sat next to me, keeping a respectable gap between us. “Then I really don't want to know, do I?”

  I kept staring forward and shook my head. The crying softened for a moment, only to peak again. If only giving her back the past few minutes had this effect, returning all of it would have destroyed her.

  “Should I go check on her?”

  “No,” I started getting up again, “I'll do it.”

  “Right.” Lara patted me on the small of my back as I started walking.

  I don't feel like I should apologize, but I need to. Sometimes the hardest things to bend end up breaking instead. In Anya's case, she had shattered.

  Standing in the open doorway, I saw my wife prone on the bed, face buried in her arms. I shut the door behind me without making a sound. Seeing my Anya like this chucked my entire view of her out the window.

  “Hey,” I said as I sat on the other side of the bed, “none of this was your fault.”

  Her crying stifled down to those hyperventilated spasms. I felt the weight on the mattress shift. She let out a few stuttered breaths before her arms wrapped around my chest from behind.

  I reached back, brushing her hair out of the mess of tears and makeup on her face. “It's alright if you don't want to talk. I won't go anywhere.”

  Her chin rested on my right shoulder. “Alexei.” She let out another wild breath. “I am sorry.”

  My left hand rested on the long , bare legs curled to my side. “About what? I'm the one who did this to you.”

  “No.” Her breathing slowed back to normal after a few more seconds. “I have been a terrible wife and person. That other girl could only hope to have my life.”

  “You mean you, before you met my grandparents.”

  I felt her head nod against me. “When she realized those happy pictures were of you and her, she knew she was dealing with a kind man.”

  “But that's the thing. You are her, just in different circumstances.”

  “I do not remember her life. She can not be me.”

  Flashbacks of the awfullest acts that could happen to a young woman crept into my mind. “That's because I took those memories for myself, so that you wouldn't have to face them.”

  “Her life was that hard?”

  I couldn't lie to her. “If you hadn't ended up at the academy, you'd be dead by now, or wishing for it.”

  “You did this for a stranger?” Anya squeezed me tighter. “You are as kind as she hoped.”

  This was too much to dance around. I broke free of her and turned around, placing both hands on her shoulders. Leaning forward, I pressed her back against the mattress. “No, I did it for my wife.”

  Complete vulnerability washed over her. “Do you not see a difference between that girl and myself?”

  “No, not one bit.”

  “Then why...” She trailed off, probably too afraid to ask the rest of the question.

  “Why did I bring you back instead of choosing her?”

  She bit her bottom lip and barely nodded. Her entire body felt limp, like she was just accepting whatever I wanted.

  “I made you remember tonight, because I want you to know that you and her are the same Anya.”

  The nature vs. nurture debate had to be roaring in her mind. “But she does not act like me.”

  I couldn't help smiling at her. “What do
you think you're doing right now?”

  Anya finally tried pulling me down with her. As I resisted, the confused look on her face grew with the amount of strength she tried using. “Alexei, are you not in the mood?”

  Limp, tear-smeared makeup, being held down. It was too much like her past that I couldn't speak of anymore. “I'm not taking advantage of you like this.”

  “You mean,” a little of that spark in her eyes came back, “you would not do to her what you would do to me?”

  She wouldn't have begged for it. You, on the other hand, will. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'll get our bags.” It was the first time I'd seen her face this much of a mess, without an orgasm involved. At least I knew I had enough humanity left, that I wouldn't enjoy a lap dance, if the stripper was crying.

  I had just shut the front door behind us after my second restaurant meal that day. Anya, back to her usual self, didn't approve of what she ordered on my recommendation. “The problem with fried chicken,” she said, “is that you can not taste the damn chicken.” I knew she'd missed the point of it entirely.

  Still, Lara and Anya were back to their usual selves. Even buying a few groceries to last us the rest of the weekend, I had to keep them in line. That behavior is fine at the academy, but not in the dairy aisle of a small-town grocery store.

  Anya had already claimed first dibs on a shower, so that left Lara and myself. We sat at the round table in the tiny kitchen, waiting to hear the faucet start running. Once it did, I couldn't help it any longer. “Any idea why she's acting so normal now?”

  “I don't even know what you two talked about, but whatever you said worked.”

  I scrunched up one side of my mouth and jacked up my eyebrows. “I didn't say anything different, but I think I know why she ran off crying like that.”

  “And?”

  I couldn't believe it myself just yet. “She wanted to apologize to me for being an awful wife and a terrible person.”

  Lara tried to hold back laughing, failing miserably. “You mean,” her face had already gone red, “ol' Iron Cunt has a soft spot?”

  A quick chuckle came out on its own. “I know, but I really don't think she's such a bitch on wheels because she wants to be. Even she knows it.”

  “So,” already back to normal, Lara had a concerned look again, “you let a little of that other Anya stay, didn't you?”

  “Stay? They're the same Anya, and I think she finally realized that.”

  “But she told me while you got lost in the grocery store. You let her keep the memory from after she jaw-jacked me.” Lara rubbed where the impact had happened, probably still hurting.

  “And she'll never admit she was wrong for that.”

  “That's just it, Alex.” She looked like she couldn't believe the words herself. “Anya told me she was sorry, and she'd make it up to me.”

  It was like their cat fight had never happened, alright. “If this was her a week ago, we'd be scared shitless of what she's plotting.”

  Lara cast her eyes in the direction of the bathroom. “I still think she's got something planned.”

  “No,” I looked that way with her, “she's sneaky, but I think Anya's being honest about everything.”

  “So soon after what she let happen to Julia?” Lara scooted her chair back and stood up as soon as she heard the water stop running. “Come on, Alex, you know better.”

  “Don't use all the hot water.” I got myself up, figuring I could use a short nap on the couch. The past couple of days had rode my ass hard and hung me up wet.

  No sooner than my head touched the pillow, I was out.

  I felt the warm silk close around my hand, fingers around my wrist. “Anya, not right now.” It felt lovely and ready, but that poor muff would have to wait.

  She kept pushing it, guiding my fingertips along that slit until I felt just how hot it was. Fresh out of the shower, and not a hint of stubble. It couldn't have been shaved more than minutes ago.

  “I told you,” I rolled onto my back, not exactly forcing my hand away, “I'm tired as hell. Just a few more minutes.”

  “Shower's free, Alex.”

  I opened my eyes. Lara stood there, naked and grinning like a bald fox. I frowned and pulled my hand back.

  “Plenty of hot water left, too.”

  Judging by Lara's usual time in the shower and accounting for the shaving, it wasn't just a couple of minutes. “I was out that long?”

  “Hurry up.” She finally picked her towel up off the coffee table and wrapped it around herself. “I found some board games in the guest bedroom. I'm bored as shit.”

  I knew them well from my childhood. Risk, Monopoly, Clue, and a few other standards. Not exactly a replacement for the non-existent television when you've played them hundreds of times in that cabin. “I'd rather turn in early, and I know you two would just team up on me.”

  Lara sighed and said, “Fine, but you'll feel even worse if you sleep on that thing all night.”

  She was right. My back had already started aching from that couch's legendary sag in the middle. “Alright. Just check on Anya for me.”

  Joints popped and muscles complained as I got up. A hot shower couldn't hurt at that point. As Lara disappeared into the master bedroom, I realized I had messed up. You never, ever let a naked Lara around an equally naked Anya, and expect them not to go at each other.

  I pulled the drain plug and heard the water start chugging through the pipes. A bath might have given those two enough time to wear themselves out. As soon as my feet hit the bath mat, I had the towel around my waist.

  When I got into the master bedroom to get my underclothes, I didn't see either of them. Walking back into the living room, nobody was there or in the kitchen on the other side. The only other place was the guest bedroom, and I was almost afraid to check. Better as I felt, I still had a nagging ache in my back and a serious case of fatigue.

  I opened the door as quietly as I could. There, asleep in Lara's arms, was a sight I never thought I'd see. They weren't naked, but the frilly pink bra and panties on both of them was as far from Anya's personality as you could get.

  I pondered where she even got them, until I noted her tits almost pouring out of them. Something good had happened between those two, and who was I to bother them? Besides, my ass needed sleep. And for once, I got my wish.

  I woke up alone the next morning. It was odd, not having at least one of them with me. Judging by the covers, nobody had snuck in and woken up already.

  The place had gotten cold overnight, so I knew I'd have to get the pot-bellied stove going. Even if it dipped below zero, that thing could cook every room. I threw on some fleece pajama bottoms and a t-shirt for the meantime.

  It didn't look like either of them were up yet. I put a wad of newspaper in the middle and covered it with cedar kindling. One match is all it took.

  Crouched down, I let it build until it was ready for the first split log. I knew I'd have to go out back and bring more in from the pile later, but the hopper had enough for now. After chucking a couple smaller pieces in, the first thick one was ready.

  I had just put the whopper in and closed the door when I felt hands on my shoulders. “You can do a commoner's work as well, Alexei?”

  “Commoner? What the hell is this, medieval England?” I knew she was just ribbing me a little. “If I didn't know how to do this, we'd all freeze tonight.” The temperature had to have fallen off a cliff the night before, making the following night even worse.

  “You know I would not survive in this place by myself.” Her fingers kneaded away what tension was left in my shoulders. “Even Russians get cold.”

  “I thought you people never thawed out in the first place.” Personally, I hated being cold myself.

  “You are the most American man I know, and I hate you for it.”

  Other than my grandfather and the few male staff members, I was one of very few men she knew. “And you're still married to me. Imagine that.” I stood up slowly so Anya
could keep working the strain out. Normally I thought any kind of back or shoulder rub was just annoying, but this time felt different.

  Anya didn't stop, guiding me closer to the kitchen table until she had me in a chair. “I will cook. Rest here.”

  Wait, you can cook? While you'd assume an academy that trains perfect wives would teach that, our students were meant to marry the rich, famous, and powerful. Introducing a cooking elective had crossed my mind, and now that I was Headmaster, I would be on the lookout for the right instructor in the near future.

  Anya leaned into the fridge, pink panties and her perfect legs the only part of her I could see behind the door. She pulled out the fresh carton of eggs and the slab of bacon, setting them on the counter before the obvious problem hit her.

  “Alexei, there is no stove.”

  I caught myself getting lost in seeing her like this. “What's that?”

  “The stove. Where is it?”

  “We were just in front of it.” Lights, the fridge, and hot water were the only electrical needs there. When I was little, the place didn't even have those luxuries. “Grab that big pan hanging under the counter. We've got to heat it up first.”

  Anya looked at me like I had just pissed on her leg. “You are joking.”

  I got up and took the pan from her hand. Grabbing the thick handle cover off the counter, I turned and said, “Come on, it's just like a regular stove top. Leave the food here for now.”

  I put the cast-iron pan right in the center of the flat slab on top. Anya put her hand just inches from the surface, jerking away before she actually got burnt. “This is primitive.” Her accent and disdain really shone through on that word.

  We had a bit before everything was up to working temperature. “What's with the pink underwear and domestic act?”

  “If you do not like it, I can—”

  “No, no.” I sat down and took a good look at her. If Barbie had a bustier, but domestically-disabled sister, she'd have been Anya to the letter right then. “I really like it.”

  Her face got red-hot as the inside of that stove. “You are trying to embarrass me, Alexei.”