Forgive me for not writing for so long - it spun, spun like a spindle, but a little sense, and time has gone ...
Do you remember the Sahara desert that my ex-husband left in me after the divorce? You know, I didn’t want to write to you about this before, but apparently I’ll have to admit: your friend hated everything and withered, an ancient old woman wanders through life. Here is such a "poetic" image ...
You ask about the fans, I confess that I am not destitute in this matter, but I began to notice that my fans have recently become more and more addicted to the process of worship itself, and I seem to no longer participate in this process. I look from the side at their hands, so reverently touching my fingers, and I don’t feel anything, except for their geographical location! I realized this recently and was horrified - am I really getting old ?!
And then autumn came, strange, warm, one might say, spring. And something in me moved. If I were a tree, I would probably be covered with buds-flowers and fragrant. Some kind of heat flared up in my chest, languor, dark desires with tantalizing wild visions. Dreams began to dream. Do you remember this anecdote, when the doctor asks the patient: "Are you tormented by erotic dreams?" Well, so, they, dreams, that is, not only torment me, but overcome me. Moreover, it is not people who dream, but sensations and music. I wake up and think - crazy, and then I decided that all this was for a reason and began to wait for something unearthly. And now this "unearthly" has come, more precisely - underground.
I’m walking around St. Petersburg and suddenly I see men, it turns out they also live in our city! You know, I was suddenly so struck! And so, amazed, I enter the subway, carry myself on other people's hips and shoulders into, as always, a crowded carriage and park in a half-hanging position on someone's male chest. I raise my eyes, Masha, and am stunned, because what I see ten centimeters from my face cannot be taken to the subway, it must be kept in the art gallery of some famous art museum. Because he, Mashenka, has lips ... No, he still has eyes, oh, what eyes they are, Mashenka! Their gaze seemed to hit me in the chest. From this blow, something rolled into the lower abdomen and flickered, stabbed with asterisks and needles. And in my head, it was like an explosion blazed, flooding my face and neck with heat. Somehow detached, but instantly I realized the meaning of the words: "breathless." Do you remember how you and I went to the cinema with our boys in the tenth grade, and Kolka Ivanov, sort of accidentally and imperceptibly put his hand on mine. I remember that my heart then literally jumped out of my chest and melted somewhere in the sky, and its hot drops fell from above and burned my chest and stomach, which twisted with spasms of such pleasure that I had never experienced, even becoming a woman. They won't believe anyone, but until recently, the happiest place in my life was an old tattered armchair in a cinema in a small taiga village. So, I feel that my heart, just like then, flew up through the solar plexus to the ceiling of the car and begins to melt there. And then my stupid fashionable bangs, as luck would have it, falls over my right eye. I stand like an idiot, my hands are pressed to my body, there is nothing to correct, I look at him helplessly with my left eye and do not know what to do. And then he leans down and with his cheek takes my bangs to the side. You know, I'm terribly susceptible to smells, but he breathed such a stunning mixture of cologne and fresh healthy warm breath that I immediately died, although I continued to stand, horrified by the feeling of how treacherously my lips were pouring. Men, if they are in wide clothes, can still somehow camouflage the manifestation of their feelings, but you can’t hide swollen, reddening lips, they always betray my desires. I lowered my face, and we are standing closely pressed to each other, and I look straight ahead at the smooth pile of his woolen jacket. And then the car shook, I buried my nose in his chest, leaned back, tried to move away, but it wasn’t there! The car, as luck would have it, shook from side to side, I looked at him in a haunted manner and laid my cheek on his chest.
And then a whisper came from above:
- Do not be embarrassed ... I will keep you!
Who would doubt, but not me! It seemed that nothing could tear me away from him, if it were my will, I would ride like this forever ... Clinging to him, I felt how he was breathing, and was languishing with the desire to cling to him even more, to feel how his chest would tremble and agitated by rapid breathing. But I didn’t pluck up such courage, and God knows how he would react to this, men are different, although it seems to me that all men should be pleased that they excite a woman. But there are those who make an indignant face, start talking about some line that should not be crossed, and so on, in my opinion they are just bigots. One way or another, I didn't want to ruin the moment. And the sweetest moments, you must admit, Mashenka, are moments of waiting and beginning. When you don't know him yet, you can only imagine his reaction to yourself. At this point, the fantasy will go to waste ... And then, however, you walk with such a wild pain in your stomach from the dissatisfaction of these fantasies, which, however, as a rule, not a single man can satisfy because of his egoism. True, some people did not advise me to generalize on this issue, but at the same time they themselves did not try to prove the opposite in practice.
Anyway. And it all ended, Masha, pretty quickly. The train pulled up to the central station, everyone began to get off, we were unstuck from each other, the seats were vacated, I sat down. And he, without even looking at me, went to the other end of the car, sat down too, took out a magazine from the diplomat and buried himself in it. No matter how hard I tried to send messages to him, he was armor - impregnable and just as cold. I rubbed my forehead with my hand, my hand smelled of his cologne, which means nothing seemed to me. He got off at my station, somehow strangely carrying a diplomat in front of him, hurried to the escalator and disappeared. And it was only then that I realized what it was! His jacket is short, his jeans are tight, his legs, by the way, are awesome. Most likely, our erotic underground tour still left traces in the configuration of his body. Mashenka, I confess honestly, I regretted that I was in a fur coat, which weakened the sensitivity of my thighs ... That's all.
For three months she went restless, thinking only about him. I woke up in the morning, before I had time to open my eyes - and then I saw his face, eyes before my inner gaze, and again I felt the impact of his gaze. During the day at work, too, I thought only about him. In the evening I could not sleep, it got to the point that I began to feel the touch of his lips. The lower abdomen was in constant pain. I was even afraid that I could ruin my entire thin female body. I immediately remembered the brides of Christ, who brought themselves to such a point in monasteries that they literally felt intercourse with God, there were even cases of false pregnancy with the growth of the abdomen, in which, as it turned out later, there was no child. No wonder Lomonosov said that young people should not go to the monastery, because instead of praying to God, they spend their strength, energy and time on taming the flesh.
You know, I understand why an unrequited feeling is so unbearably painful. Because during this period, the accumulation of tenderness grows exponentially in relation to the rest of life, and this tenderness, if it is not given to the man who called it, begins to corrode the soul. Oscar Wilde said this about unsatisfied desires that corrode the soul. I think he narrowed down the problem. The soul can be corroded by tenderness, and love, and any other feeling that has no way out. And recently, something unimaginable happened to me. Don't be scared, Mashenka, the beginning is the most banal. An old fan of mine came to see me. I, poor thing, tormented by underground love, as you yourself understand, had no desires. But they drank something tasty, shabby, I see in my eyes - it starts up, and I suddenly became too lazy to resist. Fail, I think everything is lost, and it's time to think about health. She unbuttoned his shirt, pressed her lips to his stomach, and gave up.
Mashenka, it was here that I was covered. Feeling his sinking into me, I closed my eyes. And then I saw the face of that close companion of mine. And not just abstractly saw, but saw him above her ... It was not my admirer who was immersed in me, but he. I saw his half-closed eyes, saw how his face changed from the movements of our proximity, heard his breathing, exactly what I imagined and wanted to hear there in the subway. You have no idea, Mashenka, what happened to me, what a dark fog clouded my consciousness... From a woman I turned into a tigress, my body, as they say in romance novels, arched. The tips of her breasts stood on end under his hands. I saw his hands, Masha, as if they were alive. Strong and tender, with full veins, in which, when you press your lips against them, you feel the rapid flow of his blood. I saw and felt his cheek, clean-shaven, slightly irritated at the temple, smelling of his cologne, the smell of which I cannot forget. And finally, I felt his hot lips, at first patient, and then more and more frantic and greedy.
The end was terrible. I have never experienced such a crazy, black, diabolical end, and I hope I will not experience it again. I was twisted and thrown into a fiery whirlwind, frozen in a frenzied rotation over my body and with a hurricane of force opened my thighs. Its bubbling vortex entered my womb, pierced it, swept down my spine and erupted through my chakras in a torrent of blinding light. Wild, cutting pleasure slashed and tore my consciousness, I groaned something and fell silent. I don't remember anything anymore...
When I woke up, my admirer was standing naked at the window and smoking nervously. Apparently noticing in the reflection in the glass that I had moved, he turned, came up to me and lay down next to me. He paused, looking at me with a kind of longing, and then asked:
- Who is he?
I perfectly understood who he meant, and answered the truth - that I do not know.
But you called him by his first name! - he was indignant.
Then, Mashenka, a memory flashed through my head that I really said something. But you explain to me - how could I call by the name of someone whose name I do not know?! Can you imagine the face of my admirer when I asked him - what name did I say! He put out his cigarette, dressed in silence, and left without answering. The door, however, closed quietly. Now tell me - how to live on? Not only did I imagine a bunch of things before, now some real-surreal memories have been added to this pile, which haunt me from now on. Worse, I'm now afraid to go to bed with anyone.
In short, I could not stand it all, took a vacation, and now I don’t get out of the subway, trying to find him. Only he can free me from this obsession. And I'm also trying to remember his name, which I never knew. Lord, why am I being punished?!
I kiss you, Mashenka, you are the only one who will understand and not judge, and to whom else can I tell this ...