The Unforgiving Minute (20 page)

room, both, I decided, Russian. They were dancing with two other

bare-buttocked ladies in garter belts, stockings and high heels.

I couldn’t decide whether this whole scene was erotic or funny.

The four of us sat down at the table and Semyon barked orders to

the bartender in Hungarian. A bottle of chilled vodka and four

glasses were set before us. I noted that it was expensive export

Russian vodka and not the watered-down version you would expect.

Semyon filled all four glasses and proposed a toast in Hungarian.

The girls laughed at what must have been a very funny toast.

I learned that my girl’s name was Anna and the young

girl’s name was Kristina. Anna strove to make conversation with

me and I smiled politely at everything she said.

We got up to dance and she pressed her body close to mine.

The music was now “Moonlight Serenade” by Glenn Miller and the

nostalgic tune and the effect of the vodka made me hold her close

and feel romantic. I could feel myself becoming aroused as I

lowered a hand to her bare buttocks and gently ran it over her

smooth skin. She smelled from a combination of soap and cheap

perfume. At least she smelled clean, which was a step in the

right direction. Meanwhile, Semyon, dancing near me, unhooked

the bra of his dancing partner and they both laughed uproariously

as it fell to the floor. I looked across the room at her young,

small breasts and thought she might be closer to sixteen. Semyon

had explained to me at the table that the girls in this

establishment were farm girls imported from the area around Lake

Balaton in Hungary. As I looked again at Anna, I could see that

she was not in her late thirties after all, but that a hard life

had put early lines in her face and around her eyes. Semyon had

explained that Kris had been here only a week. Kris was tall and

very thin and was, with finer features and a stronger chin, a

facial double for Anna. I decided they were sisters. I also

decided to stop feeling sorry for these girls and take the moment

as it came.

We returned to the table and we finished off the bottle of

vodka. Almost immediately another one appeared. I felt as if I

were in a state of semi-consciousness and euphoria as I downed

glass after glass. Yes, I decided, I would take the moment and

have a hell of a time. The four of us were laughing

uncontrollably as I raised my glass and commenced hollering at

the top of my lungs, “Carpe diem, goddammit, carpe diem!” I doubt if any

of the others understood Latin, but they thought I was

outrageously funny.

Finally, Semyon motioned me to follow him and the four of

us, with great difficulty, mounted a flight of stairs which

luckily was carpeted, improving our footing, and entered a suite

of rooms that was something from another century.

There were two bedrooms, each with a massive canopied bed

that was so high off the floor that a fall off it could be

dangerous. The carpeting and bedspreads were all in burgundy and

the walls were panelled in rich oak. On a washstand near the bed

was a pitcher and basin and fresh, clean towels. The lamps in

the room were electric but resembled gaslights. Between the two

rooms was a sitting room with uncomfortable-looking but delicate

furniture. Discreetly placed under a table was a chamberpot.

Semyon waved to me as he led Kristina to the other

bedroom. “Have good time Bobby, everything is on Semyon. Take

your time and oh, yes, you must piss in chamberpot. We all must

piss in chamberpot.”

I could hear his laughter as they disappeared from view.

Anna sat down on a chair and peeled off the black

stockings. Next came the garter belt and bra. She stood there

completely nude before me and I looked her over. Her skin was

pale and white, the kind of complexion that would burn to red

blisters in the sun. Her breasts were neither large nor small

but rather perfect in size with pink nipples and long, fine hairs

that sprouted from each aureole. I had this crazy idea that I

would take out my Swiss Army knife, which I always carried, and

use the scissors to snip off the hair which was interfering with

my idea of perfection, but I was afraid the knife would frighten

her.

She walked over to the washstand and put the washbasin on

the floor, after which she poured water into the basin and

squatted over it, washing herself with a cloth. I don’t think I

will ever forget that sight. Her beautiful body, back erect,

squatting over that basin. Despite all of the alcohol I had

consumed, my erection was instantaneous and lasting, even after

she signalled me to follow her in her ablutions. As I squatted

over the basin, cleaning myself, she climbed on the bed and

pulled down the covers, lying there on her side watching me,

smiling.

I carefully dried myself with a towel and bounded for the

bed, at which point I instantly entered her. We thrashed and

rolled and groaned and screamed in a drunken stupor. My orgasm

was fantastic and I moaned audibly. She laughed more in pleasure

than derision, feeling she had done a great job. I must have

lost consciousness while still in her and fallen asleep

instantly.

After what must have been many hours, I felt the weight of

her head between my legs. As her tongue and lips caressed me, my

erection grew again and I wanted her.

The dim lights were still on and I turned over, ready to

mount her again. What a surprise! It wasn’t Anna at all, but

young Kris who lay beneath me.

My fogged mind pondered the situation. Obviously, Semyon

must have sent Kris in to fetch Anna and send her into him for a

little partner switching. I looked down at this pitifully young

girl with her whore’s come-on smile and felt like a rapist. My

erection collapsed and lay dormant, although she was beautiful

and her body was near perfect. All I could think of was that she

was younger than my own daughter and it ruined everything. She

pouted as if she were very hurt and pushed me over, immediately

diving for my genital area. Her lips and tongue frantically did

their very professional job but psychologically I was shot. She

looked up at me with a pained expression, babbling in Hungarian.

From the look on her face and from her body language, I knew she

thought I didn’t find her attractive. With a pained expression,

she walked over to the washbasin, squatted over it and began

washing herself, all the while looking at me for approval. The

sight of her squatting over the washbasin brought back my

erection as I lay there on my back watching her. She giggled

with glee and all but ran to the bed and sat on me. I could feel

myself sliding into her and, despite my hang-ups, her undulating

motion soon brought me to a thunderous climax, after which she

gratefully and triumphantly hugged me. She then climbed under

the covers with me as we both fell into a deep sleep.

I opened my eyes and saw morning’s light seeping through

the windows. I can’t say streaming through the windows, because

the grey winter light couldn’t do anything but seep. Semyon and

Anna were standing at the foot of the bed. Semyon wore a pair of

boxer shorts that seemed to reach to his ankles, his rotund belly

preceding him. Anna was naked and disheveled-looking. Her

morning face wasn’t nearly as pretty as her evening, made-up

face. Her stringy, bleached-blonde hair and chinless countenance

were almost comical to behold. Her body was still exquisite.

Kris got out of the bed, smiling and stretching. Her

morning face, sans makeup, was gorgeous. I looked at her naked

body and didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that I had sex

with her.

The next scene was really comical. The two girls gathered

up their garters, panties and stockings and each wrapped herself

in a large towel. Then they curtsied politely and shook hands

with each of us as if they were leaving a tea party. Prior to

that, Semyon had opened his purse and given each of them what

looked like a veritable pile of Hungarian money. The two women

then backed out of the room smiling and disappeared.

Semyon and I dressed and headed for the car. I had an

all-time, hall-of-fame, splitting headache and needed a cup of

coffee badly.

“Well, my American friend, how you like Soviet

hospitality?” Semyon asked with a large, lascivious grin.

“Semyon, old boy, you were right. All the rest of the

cold war bullshit is political. This … this is detente. The

cold war is over, my friend; we have bonded through man’s

favorite sport. In fact, if you fix me up with a cup of coffee,

immediately if not sooner, you will definitely be my best

friend.”

“Bobby, I do better for you. Next place we go make you

new man.” His ruddy face beamed with that ubiquitous smile and I

thought for a moment we were going to another brothel.

“Semyon, my good friend, I just couldn’t handle another

woman right now. No women, no vodka … just coffee.”

He laughed in that hearty, boisterous manner of his that

was so infectious it made you laugh with him.

“Silly man, no women this morning, no vodka. Now we go to

baths to steam out poisons and lose smell of whores.”

After driving through winding streets for about fifteen

minutes, we came to a brick building that reminded me of some of

the old public schools in New York City that were built early in

the century.

We entered double doors into a large, institutional—

looking lobby with plaster walls painted light green that looked

like they had the finger marks of years upon them. The floor was

concrete and the humidity and heat in the building were intense.

I realized that we were in a public pool and steam bath.

A white uniformed attendant who had a frightening

resemblance to Bela Lugosi signed us in and gave us a pile of

thick white towels.

We walked down a white-tiled corridor, towels in hand, to

a dark, gloomy locker room with windows about eight feet from the

floor. The humidity from the nearby swimming pool permeated the

room and you could cut the air with a knife. We stripped naked

and walked down another corridor wrapped in our large white

towels. We soon arrived at another tiled room that held three

shower stalls and a glass-enclosed steam room. There were two

urns in the room, one with hot water for tea and the other with

coffee. A box of tea bags and a pitcher of hot milk stood neatly

on an adjacent table. Still wrapped in my towel, I grabbed a

polyurethane cup and filled it to the brim with coffee. Semyon

made himself a cup of tea with four heaping teaspoonfuls of

sugar. I took one sip of the strong coffee and almost gagged.

Semyon, laughing all the while, took the cup from me, poured off

half the coffee and replaced it with hot milk. It certainly made

it more palatable, but I would have given my eye teeth for a cup

of American coffee. After two cups of this strong brew, my

headache started to subside. I shed myself of the towel and

stepped into one of the shower stalls, wearing nothing but a pair

of paper slippers supplied for my use. The shower head was

wonderful. One of the really old ones that was extremely large

and voluminous in its flow of water. I took a cake of soap that

resembled laundry soap and lathered myself luxuriously while the

hot-as-I-could-stand-it water cascaded over me. I scrubbed my

genital area again and again. Whores were not my thing and I

wanted to wash off the stigma.

When I stepped out of the shower, I saw Semyon waiting for

me. He was completely naked and as I looked at his rotund,

almost comical, body, I tried to imagine women being able to

enjoy sex with him.

“Come, Bobby,” he said. “Now we sweat out vodka poison,”

as he stepped through the steam-room door.

I took a small towel in with me and sat next to him, at

first on one of the lower benches. The steam was hot and I

sweated profusely. It really felt great.

Semyon proceeded to tell me his life story and I

questioned him with great curiosity during his narration.

It seems that we were the same age, although I thought him

to be much older than I. He came from a small town in the

Russian Republic and was selected while in high school to go on

to better things. He was sent to Moscow for his college

education and soon achieved party membership. After graduation,

he went into the diplomatic service. (I suspected he might be

KGB but never really got a straight answer when I questioned it.)

He was married and coincidentally had a wife and three children

in Moscow. He had ceased taking them on his posting long ago but

it seemed that the entire family had lived in Washington, D.C.

for seven years. He loved his posting in America and really

would have liked to stay there for a long time but, as a good

Communist, he went where he was told. He enjoyed his posting in

Hungary. With the reasonable exchange rate and his Communist