by P. J. McKAY
‘Thank you, Pavle. Always a pleasure to be back.’
The man continued to nod as though his head was attached by a spring to his neck. ‘And welcome, madam.’ Nod, bobble, nod. ‘It’s our pleasure to have your company tonight.’
I smiled, all the while drinking in the opulence, the lustrous floor and wall tiles, shades of pearl and cream enriched by the oversized chandeliers blazing with candles. I glanced at the curved staircase that wound up from the lobby with its shiny wooden banister, and carpet the most intense shade of royal blue, cringing at my naivety from earlier in the day when I’d climbed that staircase and walked along the wide passageway lined with doors. How my anticipation had been tinged with shock when I realised we were to share a room. Luckily Ivan seemed not to notice. I’d chided myself afterwards — there were two beds, and having two rooms would be excessive in this luxurious place paid for by the Party.
Ivan guided me towards the staircase. I tried to regather my sense of excitement, imagining the people below as a crowd of admirers whispering, Such a glamorous couple. I inched up the stairs, my hand dragging behind on the polished railing. Ivan was ahead now, waiting on the landing. My stomach churned as he led me down the hallway, catapulting me out of my dream world again.
‘Home,’ he said, pushing the door to our room open and waving his hand. ‘After you, madam.’
Someone had been in to prepare the room for the night. The mulberry curtains were drawn, creating a velveteen backdrop behind the two armchairs in the sitting area. Two oil lamps were lit, one on the small table between the armchairs and one between the beds. My feet buzzed with a tired ache and I collapsed into one of the chairs, flicking off my black pumps, trying to appear at ease. I glanced over to the beds. The quilted bed-covers, collisions of marshmallow pink and muted brown tones, were now folded back at the foot of each bed. The white linen looked far too smart to climb into. I looked towards the bathroom, remembering the luxury of my afternoon bath. My stomach cartwheeled as I wondered how it might work getting ready for bed.
Ivan came to stand beside my chair and rested his hand on my shoulder. ‘Why don’t you use the bathroom first and I’ll follow afterwards. You can get changed in there.’ I could have hugged him for taking charge. He collapsed into the other chair. ‘Take your time. I’m in no hurry.’
I gathered up my things and scuttled past into the small black-and-white tiled bathroom that we didn’t have to share with other guests, where maids could be summoned at the click of a finger to fill the bathtub. I relived the childish pleasure of my afternoon soak, wishing I could lose myself in that steaming water again. An elegant bottle filled with soft pink cubes, Roses after Rain, beckoned from the shelf on the wash-stand. Those bath salts epitomised the sheer indulgence of my day.
At the basin, oil lamps flickered either side of the large gilt-framed mirror. They enhanced the green glimmer in my eyes, making me seem a little wicked, as though acknowledging that I had finally stepped over an invisible line and shaken Tata from my shoulder. I undressed as brazen thoughts skipped through my mind — the possibility of Ivan pushing the bathroom door open and seeing me naked. I wrenched my nightdress down over my head and stared hard at the mirror, shaking my head to clear away the giddy feeling. I peered close, willing my sensible self to stay, and when I brushed out my hair, don’t be a fool batted from one side of my head to the other with every stroke. I paused in front of the closed door, my hand on my chest, trying to calm myself. What was happening to me? Nothing felt real. I turned the handle and pushed open the door.
‘Something to help me sleep,’ said Ivan, still lounging in the armchair, shoes off, legs stretched out. He raised his glass and swirled the last of the amber liquid around its base.
I passed by him, conscious of my breasts swinging freely and pushing up against the thin cotton of my nightdress, excruciating, as though I was walking naked. I hurried to climb into one of the beds, pulling the covers close around my chin and shutting my eyes.
‘Good night, Ivan,’ I murmured, trying to sound my sleepiest.
‘Sleep well. I won’t be much longer,’ he replied.
If only I’d blown out the lamp between the beds. It was too bright even with my eyes squeezed shut, but I didn’t want to draw further attention to myself, or disturb him while he was relaxing. How long would it be before he climbed into the other bed? Would he want to talk more? I focused on my breathing, recalling how relaxed we had been together on the dance floor.
His chair creaked. He extinguished the table lamp then padded towards the bathroom. The door clicked shut and my eyes sprang open. A thread of warm light filtered under the crack of the bathroom door. Ivan was humming but I didn’t recognise the tune. When the door opened again I snapped my eyes shut. His footsteps were heavy as he shambled towards his bed, and it groaned when he climbed in. I lay frozen, too self-conscious to say anything. His bed creaked again when he blew out the bedside lamp and rustled about.
‘Jela, are you asleep yet?’ he whispered after a short time.
For a moment I was speechless. ‘No,’ I finally managed, my heart like a hammer in my chest. ‘This bed feels strange.’
‘Imagine we’re still sleeping across the landing, only a little closer now.’ I pictured the grin creeping across his face, and I was transported back to the end of the evening when I’d felt so carefree and sure of myself. ‘It’s nice, no? If it helps, it’s strange for me too. I had a wonderful time tonight. You’re an enchanting partner.’ His words were like syrup pouring off a spoon, reassuring me, helping to calm my churning stomach. ‘Jela,’ he whispered again, ‘would a cuddle help? It might help you relax, no?’
At that moment all I wanted was to be cradled in his arms and to return to my fairy-tale world. The world I’d pictured myself in so often over the past months that had finally felt real. A world far away from everyone who looked at me in disbelief when I talked about my dreams. No one seemed to understand me like Ivan.
‘I think it might help. Yes,’ I said, surprised at how steady my voice was, how quickly my words spilled out. I turned to face his bed and pulled back my covers.
He climbed in beside me and I gasped at the warmth of him, then realised he was naked. There was no time to think.
‘Draga,’ he whispered, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me. ‘You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. But I think you know it too.’ He kissed the top of my head.
My mind was too muddled to speak. I felt trapped. How could I tell him that all I’d wanted was to be held by him? For it to be the perfect end to my fairy-tale day. I buried my head beneath his chin, trying to order my thoughts, crazy thoughts of Antica and little Luci, and Mama’s warnings, all racing through my head. His chest rose and fell under my ear, his hairs tickling my face and in spite of myself I giggled.
‘This is fun, no?’ he said. ‘Much easier to relax.’ He squeezed me again and his body felt like fire.
I burrowed my head further down against his chest as though hiding from my nervousness. I tried stretching my arm across, willing him not to sense my discomfort. My hand brushed his stomach and I reached out further to lay my palm on the cool, crisp sheet to the side.
‘Why not put it here,’ he said, his voice a little stern, lifting my hand. ‘Where it’ll be comfortable,’ he added, as though to mask the edge of authority that had crept into his voice.
I had no time to think. I was too focused on swallowing my gasp. My hand was now covering his rock-hard penis. It wasn’t the woodenness of his erection but the heat of him that was so surprising. In my imaginings of sex I’d transitioned the penis from limp to erect, but I’d somehow disconnected it from being a body part. I’d thought of it more like a stick, a non-living thing, not something that pulsed and throbbed. Absurd images crowded my mind: me noticing him in his swimming trunks on Proizd; Branko and me and our friends at dancing lessons with Zlata, our golden-haired teacher; Zlata tapping us on the shoulder to rescue us — Six inches apart, let t
he holy spirit breathe — and how we sprang apart, smirks on our faces; the cloakroom chatter, all the girls boasting about the bulges in the boys’ trousers, snakes in their pants. Lying there beside Ivan, I would have given anything for Zlata and her six-inch buffer, anything to lessen the immediacy of that thriving dynamo under my hand. I edged up onto my elbow but Ivan reached for me again, pulling me closer.
‘Ah, Jela.’ His mouth seemed attached to my ear. ‘You know what hangs between our legs. It loves to play sometimes. It will be fun for you too, no? Come on. Put your hand back. Don’t be a naughty spoilsport.’
‘It doesn’t feel right,’ I said, hating that my voice sounded panicked. ‘Can we stop?’
What would Antica say if she knew I was lying with my uncle, and not our imagined Kapetane? How had I even allowed myself to think of Ivan in this way? I should have stopped my thoughts before they’d even had a chance to form.
‘You’ve got me going, Jela. Come on, feel me again. You shouldn’t have been such a tease.’
The timbre of his voice took me back to the construction site and his reaction to Josip at the trofej. This was my fault. I had led him on, and this was the consequence. It was exactly what Tata and Mama had warned me about when they’d first heard about Antica. Soiled goods.
‘Let’s start with these,’ said Ivan, hitching up my nightdress and pulling down my underwear, peeling them off me, then using his foot to disentangle them from my ankles, flicking them off.
Everything was happening in slow motion. I wished he could see my face, to know how frightened and disorientated I was. I reassured myself that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.
‘That’s right. Just relax,’ Ivan said. I focused on calming my breathing, his voice syrup-like again as he caressed my legs and stomach. ‘Come on, you can play too, you know.’ He tickled me and it seemed the old Ivan was back.
My face was burning up. ‘I’m not sure what to do,’ I admitted, my voice small.
‘Let’s start here,’ he said, putting his hand between my legs and caressing me in my most private place. I closed my eyes and a ripple of warmth coursed through my body. He kissed me then, a long slow kiss, a delicious kiss, and it felt right. I rubbed my hands down the length of his back and when he groaned my confidence soared.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ he whispered, his breath like fire in my ear. ‘It’s something we can enjoy together. I think you’re ready to be a woman now — to taste the icing on the cake.’
He knelt over me, pushing my nightdress higher and running his hands over my body, cupping my breasts and tweaking my nipples. I arched my back, the sensation so unexpected, as though I had pins and needles coursing through me. I reached up to pull him closer, wanting him to kiss me again but instead he groaned, and whispered something that I couldn’t make out, raising his body as though to hover over me. His arms were now two stiff levers at my side and his breathing came short and fast. And then I was lost, everything was out of control. He pushed down on me, harder, again and again, urgent and groaning, until with a rush he had pushed inside me. I yelped at the sharp pain, a small animal sound.
‘Ah! Ah!’ he cried, as though oblivious, moaning but continuing to thrust.
It had happened too quickly. He was hurting me and I wanted him to stop, but he seemed lost in his own world, as though he’d forgotten me, as though I’d become something for him to push into, faster and with an urgency that I had no control over.
‘Ah! Jela, Draga.’ He collapsed with all his weight on me then lay there for what seemed like the longest time. I felt dirty and still in disbelief at what just happened. I didn’t know whether I should say something. He’d gone so quiet.
When he eventually rolled off me, he pulled me close and planted a succession of kisses on my cheek. ‘Ah, wonderful, wonderful.’ His words were like a sigh. ‘I think you enjoyed your first time too, no?’ He stroked my cheek. ‘I’m a lucky man to have picked your flower.’
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t say I was disappointed by my first experience. Instead, I kissed him on the cheek and within moments his breathing became slow and rhythmical. I waited until I was certain he was in a deep sleep before shrugging my nightdress down and tucking it firmly around me. I wanted to clean away the stickiness but I felt paralysed. Antica and little Luci were back in my mind and my eyes welled with tears. For the longest time all I felt was shame but then I crept closer to his warmth, and even in his sleep Ivan slung his arm across me to draw me in close.
OCTOBER
The last of the stolen bath salts slipped through my fingers. I watched the pink petals of Roses after Rain fizz and foam and shivered. My anticipation for this, my last luxurious bath, was tinged with guilt. Mama, Mare, Antica and Nada would all have loved just one bubble bath, and yet I hadn’t shared any. Instead I’d pampered myself, eking out my stash over the past three weeks. I stepped into the water and slid down low, leaning back to capture the warmth. The bubbles tickling my shoulders were an airy cushion. It wasn’t like me to be selfish, but I was too wary of the questions that would be stirred up. I’d given nothing away, not even to Antica, about sharing a room and I’d toned down my description of the hotel. These luxurious baths were my way of celebrating, given that I still had to downplay all that was new and exciting in my life.
It amazed me that Mama and Tata hadn’t noticed the energy sparking off Ivan and me. Whenever we exchanged a glance or brushed against each other, I was certain there was a frisson of energy surrounding us. But baby Jakob’s arrival, the week after Ivan and I returned, had shifted the focus promptly away from the ball and onto him, our latest family addition. Mama and Tata were so preoccupied with their new grandson that I felt invisible. Just as well Ivan’s attention allowed me to soar above the minutiae. For me, the excitement of baby Jakob paled in comparison to my budding romance, which had become my sole focus, the meaning for my existence. My ticket to escape.
I was terrified I might let my secret slip. I’d spun more lies to Antica, concocting a story about a handsome Kapetane who had kissed me at the ball, hoping that this might account for some of my excitement. I was dying to tell her the truth, to share that I’d lost my virginity, but the risk was still too great. I had sworn her to secrecy. Even though Nada had thawed we were still walking a tenuous line and I was determined not to let anything endanger that.
I lifted my leg from the water, pointing my toe like a ballerina. The bubbles perched like dandelion puffs and I gathered them up, squeezing them between my palms, so that they frothed over my fingertips. Would my handsome lover creep into my bedroom later? The syllables rolled around in my mouth, the shape of them sliding off my tongue. My smile pinched my cheeks. How sophisticated. Me with a lover. It was only when my period came in the week after our return that he’d refrained. He’d kissed me and whispered in my ear, ‘Abstinence is good for the appetite. Now’s your time for beauty sleep.’ He was always flattering me, complimenting me on my beautiful smile or pretty eyes.
I stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped myself in my towel, forcing my mind away from lingering doubts, picturing instead him kissing my soft skin and imagining the fragrance of roses still lingering. I pulled on my nightdress and remembered back to our first night in the hotel, how naive I’d been then. We’d laughed about it since and Ivan reassured me that it was natural, that everyone had to learn. Since then he’d taught me so much. He never boasted, and we never discussed it, but I wasn’t silly enough to think that he hadn’t enjoyed himself with other women. Perhaps this was the one thing holding me back from being completely honest with him.
The house was in darkness and I raised my oil lamp high, glad of its warm glow, but as I climbed the stairs my doubts returned. Ivan had seemed preoccupied and off-hand over dinner and I suspected he too was finding our subterfuge stifling. I paused on the landing, half-tempted to tap on his door, but this was something he’d made clear: I wasn’t to disturb him because often he had important work to complete. But that closed door w
as a reminder, an obstacle to making things right with him. I left my own door slightly ajar, hoping that he wouldn’t keep me waiting too long. It was always difficult snapping out of my hazy state if I happened to doze off.
Despite my good intentions, I started when Ivan tapped me on the shoulder. I pulled back my covers in what was now an automatic response, forcing my eyes open. He slid in beside me and I wasn’t surprised that he was already hard for me. I reached for the condom enclosed in his hand, trying to beat away my grogginess. He’d first produced the small silver packs in Dubrovnik. I’d woken in his arms and he’d apologised that he’d been taken by surprise, a beautiful surprise. He’d shown me how the condom worked, another perk of the Party, he’d joked, turning what might have felt embarrassing into a natural part of our love-making. When I worried how safe it was he brushed off my fears, assuring me he was extra careful. Even so, I was counting down the days to my next period.
I pushed myself to my knees and took his penis in my hand, smiling at his familiar groan of pleasure when I rolled down the rubber sheath. My heart sank, however, when he wasted no time to pull me on top of him. I was still fighting against my sleepiness, trying my best to focus, but he seemed intent on moving quickly to his climax. Again it was over too quickly. This was the cloud hanging over me, the subject I didn’t know how to broach. I was nervous he might think I was judging him, I was too critical, or needy, or I expected too much. He was always tender but I was yet to experience the ‘thunderclap moment’ Antica described. Over the weeks I’d reassured myself that the next time would be better, that I was still inexperienced, but again I felt I’d failed. I blinked away my tears as I lay down beside him. Ivan turned and pulled me close.
‘Ah, Draga, what a dream you are. You enjoyed it too, no?’
I clenched my hands, annoyed that he hadn’t even taken the time to savour my delicious scent of roses. For the first time ever I turned my back on him and faced the wall.