by Kendall Duke
Alexei told us his father was satisfied with the revenge—the terrible sounding plot that Ivan described to me the day before, the one that still made my stomach ripple with unease. It saved my life, Alexei told me, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, because his father’s first instinct was to deliver my head to my father. “I told him, no, this means nothing to him,” Alexei said, meeting my gaze head-on, refusing to spare my feelings. “He sold her, Papa. So we sold her too. She is not high-ranking asset now, she is cheap. This, he will not like.” He watched me silently. “We have to do this, Julie. I hate to hurt your pride.” Alexei reached across the table and briefly squeezed my fingers, a kindness that made Ivan growl. “But this is how we keep you alive, yes?” He cocked an eyebrow at Ivan. “I know how we stand, Vanya. I do not expect any comfort from her, but a gentleman must let a lady know she is safe, yes?” He smiled, his dimples deepening, but Ivan just simmered. It made me laugh myself, and Alexei joined me, watching as I fondly laced my fingers through Ivan’s. Something occurred to me; this light kindness was different, coming from clever Alexei. Something about him had changed.
“What is it?” He noticed my expression right away.
I looked closely at Alexei. “Did you meet someone?”
“No, no,” Alexei said, and waved a hand in the air. “It is only… My father, he say we need new heir. He want me married now—is like virus, this idea, in his mind. He will not let it go.” Alexei shrugged. “I am twenty-five, young to be married, I tell him, but he very insistent. He send girl to the house—” He said something in an aside to Ivan, who raised an eyebrow. “It come to nothing. But now I have woman in my house.” Alexei sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “I like women in my bed. But this one…” He let the thought trail away, and I noticed him watching our hands again. It wasn’t jealousy he felt. It was longing. I wondered who the girl was, then shook off my concern for this stranger and returned to the moment.
“Thank you, Alexei. I really appreciate your help.”
“Is very hard for Ivan to ask,” Alexei said softly. “But I am glad to.” He smiled at his friend one more time before standing up and thanking me for lunch, then walking towards the door. The men went together, their relationship thankfully unaffected, and I listened to them make each other laugh with a couple parting jokes in Russian before the door clicked behind Alexei.
When Ivan came back, I led him to the couch and curled up on his lap. We listened to the neighborhood around us settle in for a quiet winter afternoon; the kids weren’t back in school quite yet and were making the most of it. I heard mothers calling them in for dinner, but since we’d just finished a late lunch we had no appetite, and found something to watch on TV instead. I dozed peacefully against him, waking up when he chuckled, feeling utterly and completely safe for the first time in a long time.
~~~
I was scheduled to go back to school in a week. Ivan and I were sharing the master bedroom now, but we still had things to figure out; the house was still technically owned by my father, and I wasn’t sure how to get it in my name. Would Ivan’s boss help us with that? And what would happen when Ivan was inevitably needed for his real job again, now that the question of my father’s debt was somewhat settled—at least as far as I was concerned? Would he leave me there? Or expect me to come with him, where-ever it was he went?
I was dreading the conversation, because I was sure it would end in an argument. And even if most of our arguments concluded with firm decisions, loving understanding, and rough sex to make up for it afterwards, these were serious questions to have to deal with at the very start of a relationship. Ivan and I hadn’t gotten any time to be together under normal circumstances—we’d never even been on a date!
I wondered if he was thinking any of the things I was. I hated feeling insecure.
And my body was taking a long time to recover from the rough sessions of play it had endured—far too long, to my mind. The first time I had sex with Ivan, his size and demands were extraordinary, and I recovered just fine—as a virgin. So I didn’t understand why my breasts were so sore, why my body still felt swollen and tender everywhere. Ivan wanted to make love to me—I could see it in his eyes—but something about the way I held myself made him hesitate. I wondered if maybe all of these unsettled questions between us were dampening his appetite too.
I should’ve known better.
“I want take you to dinner,” Ivan told me the night after Alexei’s visit. “I want take you to movie.” He said it abruptly, during breakfast. I hadn’t been able to eat very much; my stomach was queasy, for no reason I could figure. “Tonight? You like that, my Julie?”
I looked over at him, and the nervousness he hid so well under a veneer of Russian bad-ass was plain to see; he might not know how to hide his emotions, considering he’d never had to before. I understood that feeling. I reached across the table and laid my hand over his, and he immediately turned it over, squeezing my smaller one gently inside his calloused palm. Even after all we’d been through, he was still nervous asking me out on a date. It touched my heart. “I would love that, Ivan.” The smile he gave me was blinding in its beauty. I couldn’t help but laugh with pure happiness.
We got ready in the afternoon, and when we left he drove us to a very fancy restaurant in downtown Washington, DC. I realized he’d been planning this for a while; reservations weren’t easy to get, and although he had plenty of strings to pull, given his mob connections, I knew he didn’t like using them unnecessarily. We settled at a beautifully arranged table with crystal glasses, porcelain plates so delicate they were transparent, and a dozen red roses waiting for me, a note with my name attached. “Ivan, this is lovely,” I told him, my heart beating faster. It was more than I could have ever imagined. For a girl like me, who’d never had a chance to go on a date before, this was incredible. I felt a tear in my eye and tried to wipe it away before he could see.
“My Julie,” he whispered, missing nothing. “Why do you cry?” He pulled a chair out and sat me down, pulling the one that was across the table next to my side. He held my hands and peered into my face.
“I’m very happy,” I told him, my voice shaking. “I’m so happy, Ivan. I love you so much and…” I waved my hand at the roses, lost for words.
“I will buy you roses every day if it make you happy,” he told me solemnly. “I will take you to dinner every night. I will do anything to make you happy, milaya. Anything.” His eyes were perfectly sincere, his hands tight around mine. “I love you from the first moment I saw you, and I am happy now too.”
“You can’t fall in love at first sight,” I said, teasing him gently. “It’s impossible.”
He shook his head, watching me. “Sergei say, we must go bag-man house; he steal from us. I am chosen, of course, because I am third, behind Alexei, and fastest in the… How you say, special kind of fighting.” He leaned back, letting the truth of the story wrap around us, but didn’t let go of my hands. “I get us inside, we wait in kitchen. There is team in backyard, waiting; when you come home, I think….” He sighed, looking at me. “I think, this is most beautiful girl I have ever seen. So good manners, so kind. She cannot be his daughter—but you were. You were very polite, I could tell you were honest.” He blinked, remembering. “Sergei say you are, how Americans call it, honey-trap? A trick? But you are not, Alexei and I can both tell. Alexei see I like you, right away.” He glanced down at our hands. “He tease me. He say, you can baby-sit this pretty girl, Ivan; at least we know you will never fall in love with her. Your heart is… Best way to put it… Stone?” Ivan met my eyes again. “But he already see the truth, he tell me later. He already see I love you. Before I see myself.” He squeezed my hands. “And when these terrible things happen, he help me. He help me see how to make his father leave us alone, how to let me be with only woman I ever love, will ever love. How to keep my Julie.” There are tears in my eyes again, but this time there is a little sadness in them; it isn’t a happy stor
y, how we met. It’s a tragedy. And yet, here we are. It’s over, but there are tears in his eyes too. “I keep you now forever, my love, lyubimaya. Now you are my life. I never think I have this luck. I never think god will grant me such happiness.” He is staring at me, his words hitting home, and I believe it then. I remember that first night, a million years ago now, it seems; I remember the way I felt when I saw his face—as if I’d been struck by lightning. As if the whole world stopped.
“We were made for each other,” I tell him, and I pull my hands out of his just so I can wrap them around his neck. “I love you Ivan. I will love you forever.”
“Forever, my Julie,” he whispers into my hair, and we share a kiss, long, slow, and full of fire. We draw apart only when it’s time to order dinner, and the courses are sumptuous and amazing. It’s a bit too much for me; I try to take a sip of my wine and my stomach turns, recoiling, and I settle on soda water instead. The rich food doesn’t sit well, but it’s delicious, and I am able to clear my plate after a full moment of unaccountable nausea. “I think I must have gotten the flu somewhere, Ivan,” I tell him, and his brow sinks low, his eyes worried. “It’s fine—I want to finish dinner, but I think we’ll have to watch a movie at home. Is that okay?” He reassures me in English and Russian before quietly watching me eat the rest of my meal. The evening is magical. Soft music plays in the background, and we are surrounded by other couples in love. The sun sets early, and when we leave the restaurant the twilight breeze feels fresh on my skin. I feel revived by it. “Maybe it’s not the flu,” I say, and he waits for me to decide. “Let’s try it.” I don’t want to get anyone else sick, but maybe I just ate something strange. Ivan is fine, and no one else has been near me. I couldn’t catch a flu from the air.
But unfortunately, on the way to the theater my stomach rebels. I feel the skin on my neck pulling tight, a faint acidic taste in the back of my throat. I’m not doing this, I tell myself, imagining being on the side of the road in front of him and the whole world; instead, I beg Ivan to drive home so I can be sick privately, and he makes it in record time, considering the drive in Northern Virginia traffic. I quietly ran at full speed up the stairs to the bathroom and locked the door, then vomited most of my delicious dinner up while trying not to make any noise. It’s impossible, but I’m humiliated, disappointed, and outraged. It could only be worse if Ivan heard me. What terrible timing! And seriously—how could I have gotten the flu? From Alexei?
I collapsed on the floor, flushed the toilet and leaned back with my eyes closed, praying I didn’t get anything on my beautiful dress—a gift to myself during my senior year of high school that I never had an occasion to wear. It was a little tight in the chest, but looked better than ever on my fuller hips. I’d hoped to have a very special evening with Ivan in it, and instead… I opened my eyes and found myself looking up at a very concerned Ivan.
“How did you get in here?”
“Julie, how long you been feeling like this?” He crouched down to look at me, but was still a foot taller. His hands were so gentle when they reached for me, pulling me towards him, as if he can’t help it. I didn’t bother asking my question again; he’d just told me at dinner that he was the one originally responsible for breaking into my house. “How you feeling now?”
“I feel… I feel better, actually,” I told him truthfully. I felt shaky, weak and embarrassed—I really hope I didn’t smell as bad as I imagined I did—but okay.
“Julie, you like warm bath? Not very warm,” he said quickly, making me look at him with amusement. “Just little warm. And then we get you some crackers, little bit of milk, maybe?”
“Milk sounds disgusting,” I told him, covering my mouth with my hand. “And a luke-warm bath sounds weird.”
“Only little warm,” he said again, and picked me up off the floor in one smooth motion. “Not too hot, not cold.”
“Okay Ivan,” I said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow of my own for once. “That’s very specific. If it’s important to you, I’m okay with that—I’d also be okay with a shower.”
“Shower while you dizzy no good,” he said immediately. “Could fall down.”
“Ivan.” I reached up to touch his face. There was something going on in that ridiculously handsome head of his that he wasn’t telling me. “I’m not going to fall down in the shower. I’m an adult woman who’s been showering her entire life. What’s up with you?”
“I get your bathrobe,” he said, tenderly slipping my dress off of my shoulders. His touch was reverent, so gentle it felt like a caress even though he’s just undressing me and nothing more. I saw his eyes spark, but instead of taking it further he quickly reached down and turned on the bath. He found some lavender oil and waved it beneath my nose, watching my face. “You like? Or too strong?”
“No, it smells nice,” I said, still baffled by his attentiveness. Ivan was, by nature, extraordinarily thoughtful and definitely a giver, even if, in the bedroom, his tastes ran to the extreme: possession seemed to be the goal for him, not really pleasure. But this was a bit much, even for Ivan, who’d cleaned my house before, and bought me pizza to celebrate my exams. He was such a sweetheart, under it all, but still… A shower? “Not too much,” I asked, feeling the swirl of scents in the room to be a bit over-powering, but I wanted the lavender to hide the remaining acidic tinge to the air. When that was taken care of, Ivan held my hand while I stepped in the bath. I sat down, and was surprised when he sat down on the tiled floor next to the tub. “Is that comfortable? You don’t have to stay there,” I said, feeling embarrassed. I’d only gotten a little sick. I could be by myself.
“I wash you,” he said softly, and I realized his eyes were tracing every curve of my body beneath the water. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one that had plans for this evening.
He tenderly wiped me down with a silky washcloth, the water foaming as he stroked my torso, up and down, gliding between my breasts. I found myself rising out of the water towards him, but with one gently splayed hand, he planted me back down. My breasts peeked above the waterline, my sensitive nipples pulsing from the barest attention; Ivan seemed to intuitively know that they were behaving differently, and stroked them with a single finger each to peak my buds, then let water drip down his finger and land with a soft pat on the tip. It felt earth-shattering. My whole body responded, my legs opening slightly, my pussy swelling to accept more attention; I was still tender and tired, although I should’ve been ready to go by now. Once again, Ivan seemed to understand this without my saying so. He knelt by the tub, bringing his face to mine and gently kissing my forehead, my cheeks and eyelids as his hand slid lower. Very slowly, achingly gentle, he separated the lips below and let his fingertips glide over my crevice. I felt my hips jerk, and he hissed and pulled back; when I settled again his fingers returned, teasing my opening, never slipping inside. My clitoris was hot and tight, begging to be touched. He sucked my earlobe, making me moan, and then let one broad fingertip circle my clit while his other fingers floated playfully over my entrance. His pinkie teased my bruised anus, making it tense, never entering; his thumb pressed and circled my clit. “You like it, good girl?” His rasp made my toes curl. “I know you like it. Pretty kiska want it. Let her purr for me, my Julie,” he whispered, his fingertips speeding up the game below, my clit growing harder and fatter as he squeezed and circled it. He never put a finger inside of me, instead letting me gasp as my body begged for more, then focusing on my clit until lightning began to zing through my nerves, making my whole body hum. “Yes,” he said, then whispered something feverish in Russian. “Da, milaya, da—” My whole body pulsed with the orgasm, glowing white hot beneath my skin. I screamed his name, the echo surrounding us, bouncing off of the tiles as the sensations receded once more. I lay panting in the luke-warm water until Ivan scooped me up, utterly indifferent to the water dampening him to the bone, and carried me to our bed. He gently laid me down, toweling my naked body with incredible care, and when I drifted off to sleep he woke me
with a kiss, pressing saltines and a glass of seltzer water into my hand. I gave him one more kiss after I finished them off, and then the whole world went black. I slept like the dead.
~~~
I slept for nine hours. I couldn’t believe it—I was so tired from our brief date that I slept a full two hours more than I was used to? More than that, as soon as I woke another wave of nausea swept through my body, and I found myself scampering for the bathroom. Ivan was with me the whole time; he’d been working quietly on his laptop in bed next to me while I slept and followed me to the bathroom, holding my hair back and murmuring softly to me in Russian. When I felt empty—which was soon, because there was nothing in my stomach—I collapsed on the floor once again, leaning back and closing my eyes. The room smelled like lavender oil, thank goodness, and I fought off the next wave of nausea. When I was better I sat up and looked right into Ivan’s worried face.
“I am really sorry,” I told him. “I know this is gross. But when you get the flu I promise to take care of you just like you’re taking care of me.” I reached for my toothbrush.
Ivan watched me for a long moment before helping me stand. He was behind me, and as I looked in the mirror, brushing my teeth, I saw him thinking. Finally I was finished. I turned around and made him meet my eyes, trying to look somewhat put together even though I was naked, already exhausted for no reason, and had just finished brushing the yuck out of my mouth. “What?” He bit his lip. “Ivan, what is it?”