The stuffiness in the car gave way to a sharp December chill as I stepped out into the bumpy parking lot of the Taiga bathhouse. Steam billowed from the exhaust, as if the car itself had breathed a sigh of relief. I had come alone—on purpose. After three months in the smoke-filled office, after his calls begging me to come back, I needed a shake-up. Or oblivion. A bathhouse, I decided. Alone. The old log cabin had turned black with age. Inside, it smelled of smoke, damp wood, and something deeply earthy. The owner, a woman with a tired face and nimble hands, handed me a sheet and a broom. "Are you taking the whole hour?" she asked again. "It's free until eight. Just... It's a wood-burning stove, so you have to heat it yourself. Can you handle it?" I nodded. Drowning is even better. It'll keep my hands and mind occupied. The dressing room was quiet and empty. I slowly undressed, looking at my reflection in the fogged window. The thinness he'd called &#... continue reading

Let me start with my age. I'm 54. I recently went to the countryside to get some heating installed at our dacha. They put me up with an old lady who lived next door. She was an ordinary old lady, and very easy to talk to. She often used swear words in conversation, making jokes. Her jokes were often below the belt. She was pleasant-looking, plump, with a huge ass and seven-cup breasts. Her name was Anna Semyonovna. I arrived at the site in the late afternoon. When we sat down to dinner, she poured me a shot and shared it with me. I thanked her for the treat and went to bed. The next morning, my hostess woke me to the clatter of dishes as she bustled about in the kitchen. A light breakfast and I was already at the site, which was located on the neighboring property. I worked all day, breaking only for lunch. “And I’m following you,” I heard Anna Semyonovna’s voice as I was installing the fasteners. “What is it?” I responded. "Okay, it's time for lunch. War is war, but lun... continue reading