From the notes of Mr. N

ABOUT SEXUAL FEMALE FANTASIES

I’m sure there are many sexual female fantasies that we men don’t know much about… Echo thefantasies of trapped wild animals in cages waiting in the wings to break out!

Anna

Anna was older than me. I liked her slimness. Oh, those legs, oh, those eyes! When she put on a skirt and tights with arrows, and her heels fervently beat a drum roll on the asphalt, men turned around, catching every movement of the woman’s buttocks playing on the move. «Well, where are you, my worthy knight?» – it was read in these movements. Men got lost and, sometimes afraid to disappoint such a woman, retreated without a fight. True, she had a grief-lover Dima, some military man from the special services. For twelve years, they met rarely, but violently. Usually, in the midst of a never-ending binge, he would crawl up to her and take her with a boorish, assertive passion, and then disappear again for months on his eternal business trips. Anna waited, pined, was jealous of the «hot spots» and each time swore that she would not let him go again at the next meeting. Then they quarreled completely. Once he let it slip that he was in captivity and converted to Islam, but he does not regret anything. He begged Anna to find him another girlfriend and live with the three of them. She was hysterical, shouting that this is not Islam, but bl… tvo.

Anna was charming. Competition in the service sector has taught you to feel the mood of the client and do everything in your power to ensure that the client remains satisfied. When I went to the beauty salon, my hair was hanging down to the ground. I was dressed in a shabby soldier’s uniform, barefoot, with a detached, wandering look. The guy with the «Peter» badge was looking through the journal entries for a long time, and when he found my name, he grimaced. His whole appearance showed a disdainful attitude towards me, and a little more and I would have walked away, although the level of the salon did not allow refusing customers with oddities.

– Hello, – Anna came out of the hall and smiled politely.

I don’t think the snowmen had signed up for her haircut before me.

«Are you Mr. N?» – What is it? «she asked, overcoming her excitement. – Have a seat.»

I sat down in the chair. The murmur of the water calmed me. This woman’s hands touched my phantom hair and applied shampoo to it.

– How are we going to get our hair cut?“ – What is it? „she asked, looking at my pale reflection in the mirror.

«At least up to my shoulders,» I said.

Strands of my hair began to fall to the floor. I watched them fall, remembering the last time I had my hair cut before being sent to Chechnya.

«Who’s Karl?» «He was recommended to me at the receptiondesk.

«Oh, Karl? So this is my colleague.

– I insisted that you cut my hair.»

– why? – What is it? «she asked, applying shaving foam to my beard.

«Because I don’t have anyone to go to the movies with tonight,» I said, «and Carl has Peter.»

I felt like she already liked me. During my years at the monument, I had matured from a boy to an attractive man.

– There are many people of non-traditional orientation in our profession, but Karl is normal.

– I’d still like to invite you, not him.»

We agreed to meet at the entrance to the cinema «October». Then there was a popular movie «Gloss». She was late, and we went straight to the cinema. While watching it, I sometimes looked at it. On a date with me, she came even more beautiful and desirable. I was happy to be sitting next to her, and I wanted to take her hand.

«Life is like a bridge over a river. Happy to meet the woman you love on it, «I said aloud after the session.

We didn’t want to part. We were walking along Novy Arbat and were already talking on «you». A couple of times I managed to make her laugh, and surprisingly, she didn’t notice that I was barefoot. Or maybe she didn’t want to notice. It was cool outside, and the snow was melting. It was getting dark. We went to warm up in a restaurant. A Chaldean in a sombrero offered a choice between French and Chilean wines, recommended sliced cheese. My companion ordered veal in a vegetable stew, and I avoided the meal, saying that I was going to lose weight. The wine was delicious. We drank to the meeting.

– I’d like to have another baby.» Imagine, I once had a dream that I found a newborn boy in a field of thick wheat, picked him up, and he poked at my breast and looked for milk, silly. I’m running around the field and I don’t know what to do. I’m so impressionable that I sketched a pencil sketch on the same day.

– Do you draw?» I asked, surprised.

– I used to draw well, I gave my work to all my friends, but I kept this drawing for myself. It hangs over my bed in my bedroom. When you come to visit, I’ll show you.

«Lately,» I rubbed the tip of my nose, «I’ve been avoiding the company of beautiful women.

– I don’t even know whether to be happy with the compliment or sad from the refusal…

«Let’s drink to luck!» I raised my glass of wine.

«Come on!» She took a small sip from her glass, «But I still can’t get my head around it.» Tomorrow you’ll be gone, and only memories will remain?

I knew that Anna longed for change and was afraid of it at the same time.

«We live in the future and the past, forgetting what is now,» I said, finishing my glass of wine.

«I really miss the’ now ’sometimes,» she said, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

– You often meet the wrong people in your life…

– It feels like you’ve known me for a long time.» What you say is all true and it really is…

«I’ll admit that I’m talented at it,» I smiled, tasting the tart taste of the wine.

During the years spent in the monument, I lost many feelings, and now I wanted to cry with happiness. Barely holding back my tears, I could hear the heartbeat of a woman who wants to be happy.

– What do you dream about?

She closed her eyes, and her lips, wet with wine, whispered:

«Imagine that candles are burning. Nearby, logs crackle in the fireplace, a pleasant melody plays, adding warmth to the atmosphere…

The waiter ran to get a second bottle of wine. I took her hand, which I wanted to press against my cheek. Anna felt something similar, but something stopped her impulse. Maybe women have forgotten how to fully trust men?

– You’re sitting in a rocking chair with a glass of wine – «I said, leaning toward her,» and a devoted dog is licking your feet, and you’re still waiting for me after a long time…»

– We should only be friends, «she said, suddenly opening her eyes, cutting off my kiss.

I smiled bitterly. I felt bad that she’d been waiting for years for someone she didn’t love just because there was no one to walk her dog. The quagmire of knowing that she had fallen out of love, and had fallen out of love, sucked her soul in, pulled her to the very bottom, and somewhere there let her go. In the swamp frenzy, like a helpless kitten, this woman paddled with her paws, and already saw the faceless faces of her rescuers. They also paddled helplessly towards her and more often away from her, which made it even more painful and hurtful.

– I’m getting material, «she complained. «Do you know where the word ’mother’ comes from?»

I shrugged my shoulders.

– From the word «matter», «earth».

I loved the way she delicately impaled a piece of meat on her fork and brought it to her mouth. My stomach rumbled. I remembered sharing a can of stew with a friend in the army. There was an open bottle of vodka on the table, and it didn’t seem so bad.

«I wonder why the word ’father’ comes from?» I wondered. «Father, Father, from something… We both laughed.

– But you noticed correctly, – Anna’s eyes twinkled, – father is the cosmos and, most likely, this word came from something that we will never be able to understand…

Then she looked sad, and I saw her eyes were wet with tears. I was listening to her own brother, a talented musician who died of a drug overdose.

– I always get the feeling that he’s not dead at all.“ I’m even sometimes afraid to meet him accidentally on the street, „she said, looking around.

I felt like someone was watching us, too. Perhaps I caught the eye of the waiter, who was watching us closely and pouring the wine out of the bottle just in time. The conversation turned to responsibility, and I noticed how much a man changes by the age of thirty.

– I feel responsible for every step, whereas before my actions were often purposeless and empty.

It was getting late. We went out into the cool street. The metro has closed. All I had left was enough money for a pack of cigarettes and a taxi for Anna, and that would be if I crossed the bridge. We walked and smoked, holding hands like children. Ahead, the building of the Ukraina Hotel was visible, looking like an ancient castle in the dark of night.

«But I haven’t smoked for a long time, and then I suddenly felt like…» said Anna, funnily puffing out clouds of smoke, «because it’s so good… and I can’t believe that tomorrow is a working day.» My daughter will be shocked if she sees me in this state, although now, probably, she walks, zas..nka.

A gloomy sky hung over the city, drizzling rain. After crossing the bridge, we went to the square in the direction of the Kievsky railway station. You could get a cheap taxi there. On the way, we passed a bench where the motionless figure of a woman was sitting, blending into the rain.

– Is there someone sitting there, or am I imagining it?» Anna asked me in a whisper and squeezed my hand out of fear.

«It’s Lesya’s lost ghost Ukrainian women, «I said, leading my companion into the courtyards of dormant high-rise buildings.

Under a large, sprawling tree, I hugged Anna and kissed her. We spun around in a long, wistful kiss and, dropping her relaxed body right on the roots protruding from the ground, I began to shower her with warm kisses, forgetting myself and not noticing anything around…

– What are you doing?“ They might see us, „she whispered in the rustle of leaves, struggling weakly.

I’M SORRY I CHOSE YOU

I’ve been looking at you for a long time. You looked at me too, and as if you sensed my desire, you hid behind others like you, unwilling. You were all doomed, every singleone of you, and if a miracle could have happened and you were given your freedom, you would still have died! You had intelligent eyes. I’ll never forget that look. There was hope in him.

Maybe that’s why I pointed my finger at you and thus accelerated your suffering.

I was a god to you, your fate was in my hands, and in those moments I was already ascending, watching you being dragged to me.

I’m sorry I chose you, but I couldn’t help it. It could have been someone else, but they didn’t know what it meant to love you. You were choking on my kisses. You couldn’t get enough air, and you were silent all the time… ah, you didn’t give up, watching your death ritual with dignity, and when I raised the knife over you, you flinched, convulsed even before the blow, and I flinched with you, sobbing and cursing the injustice. I could feel your last hope melting away, your life slipping away into oblivion. And my heart fluttered, trying to understand your pain. I’m sorry I chose you, but I meant well. Our meeting was not in vain. I’ve made a good fish soup, I’ll last another day. Maybe next time someone will choose me…

ON THE BRIDGE

As I write these lines, an unfamiliar song sounds. Where does this song come from? Who sent it down to me, why now, when there is no turning back? This song touches me in a way that makes me feel like God. You are so close, my good god! Your breath stirs my hair pleasantly, your hands reflect light and power, and I close my eyes. The wave of life passes pleasantly through the body. You look at me and smile. Why are there tears in your eyes, why are you always silent?

Fragments of memory, like fallen leaves, the November wind whirls. The final touch of autumn is in the air. I know this will never happen again… I walk with the girl, trying to remember her name… In the blue lamplight, she is mysteriously beautiful, her body beckoning to me. We’d had a mint Mahito an hour earlier. She said how difficult it is for her with her husband, that she wants to file for divorce, but is afraid… I believe. You can’t help but believe such beautiful eyes. Her husband is sitting with his daughter, thinking that his wife is with a friend. He believes it too… We are similar in this respect. I don’t know her phone number, but it’s probably a passion. The one they write about in books…

Old embankment. As always, it is deserted and silent. We stop, enchanted by the panorama of the night. This girl is afraid of heights, so she snuggles up to me. I catch her perfume. Tenderness escapes my lips. My head is spinning as I hug her. We kiss right on the bridge in front of the Government House. The wind is blowing. I can hear her breathing fast, how she wants me. I try to stop myself, but I can’t… and it’s only a shout that saves us from being physically close.

GOING TO HEAVEN

Amina walked past the fountains alone, and the cold soldiers looked after her wistfully. The heady perfume wafted to their boyish nostrils, stirring fire, and they couldn’t help but smile as they drew fantasies. Amina was on the subway. A terrible pain tore at her heart, and a desire for revenge burned in her chest. Her black hair fluttered in the wind. She was never allowed to put on a headscarf, as they were afraid that it would attract attention. She was whispering a prayer to Allah, who was leading her to Walli, promising a long-awaited meeting, but her thin lips seemed not to obey, and tightly compressed, which turned the whisper into a kind of terrible howl. I could hear it clearly, understand every word, and fly after it. It was a prayer thread that bound us together and united us into one whole. Amina walked on, her boots stubbornly tapping on the cobblestones. The journey was tiring her. Her heels clung to the ledges of the cobblestones. The wind gusted in her face, knocking her off her feet, and she had to turn her back to it all the time. At that moment, I would lie down at her feet as a fallen leaf and also be quiet. She didn’t notice me, and I looked at her oriental features and tried to understand what love is. I could see her fingers nervously searching her pockets for a lighter and cigarettes. She wanted to smoke, but the Gym absolutely forbade her any contact with fire, and she couldn’t disobey her brother. Her brother was everything to her, and to let her brother down, especially now, when the situation of the Wahhabis in the North Caucasus left much to be desired, was for her a terrible shame and an unquenchable sin. It seemed to her that the fate of an entire nation, of an entire people, was in her hands, that if she crossed the line, those damned Russians would flinch. Besides, her lover would never forgive her for such an oversight. When he was alive, he hadn’t known she smoked, and now it was even more frightening.

At the entrance to the metro station, Amina lit a cigarette. She took a deep breath of smoke and rolled her eyes slightly. I felt her instant joy and was also happy for her. At this moment, she looked like a child. How old was she really? No more than eighteen years old. «What if it’s all wrong?» Amina’s thought flashed through my mind, and I saw her push it away. But the thought stuck when the faces of passers-by flashed past the girl, and the children, seeing the suicide bomber’s eyes clouded with hatred, began to cry.

– The main thing is not to look at the children! They might betray you, or worse, they might make you feel sorry for you, «she said through gritted teeth.

Shaitan’s Kingdom, as her older brother Jimhan called нit, was running like clockwork, and as Amina walked down the turnstile, she was afraid she wouldn’t make it in time. She was getting scared. She could already hear the hum of the approaching train, the abyss drawing her in with a bright light, and only prayer helped her focus on the sacred goal. Go in and click.

She wasn’t even allowed to say goodbye to her father and sisters. For them, Amina went to Moscow to enroll in a medical institute. I imagined her in her white coat treating the children, and the tenderness and care with which she treated each child, but that future was as hazy as I was. Someone who was indirectly guilty. Now she thought of the red-bearded Arab who had been shot by an infidel. Did she love Valli? I loved her. And I envied him just for having such a wife. I was ashamed that I had ruined their happiness.

Amina was the last to get into the train, and in the tight circle of people she was surrounded by, she tried not to look at those who were supposed to follow her. She stood with her back to them, thus showing contempt for them, and began to pray. The train picked up speed with every passing second, and I could see the shahid’s hand clutching her mobile phone, her knuckles turning white from exertion. She was supposed to dial Valli’s number, and I knew that as soon as the signal went through, the circuit would close and the detonator would go off. But the girl hesitated. It seemed to her that someone was staring at her intently. Like two friends among strangers, we shuddered, as if struck by an electric shock, when we noticed each other. We stared at our reflections on the train doors without taking our eyes off them. I was standing right behind her, a head taller than she was, and I couldn’t help but smell her black hair. They smelled of streams and the sky against the snow-capped mountains, like the robes of Allah.

– Why?» I asked, resting my chin on her shoulder, «You’re too young to leave.»

My cheek barely brushed hers, and she felt uneasy at the touch.

«That’s what Allah wants,» the girl smiled faintly, moving her head slightly away.

«Allah wants children, He wants peace,» I said, and the whisper of my lips brushed her soft neck with sweet kisses.

The girl trembled even more. I could hear her heart pounding. And from this instantaneous closeness, from the fact that we were drawn to each other as a man and a woman, I believed that all was not lost, that I could stop her rash act.

«What about Valli?» Go to heaven shouted, her eyes flashing angrily.

She noticed that I was wearing a soldier’s uniform, a submachine gun slung over my shoulders, and most importantly, Valli’s dagger, which he never parted with even in bed, and realized that I had killed her lover. Her anger shot right through me, tearing and throwing me in all directions. The car shook. The passengers gripped the handrails. As if drowning in the abyss, I grabbed the Chechen woman’s shoulder.

«Amina…»

She turned to me so suddenly that a few of her tears fell on my face. Our lips touched. Her hand holding the phone dropped to her side.

I thought, kissing her nervous lips.

The doors opened and the crowd carried us onto the platform. Amina ran away from me like a leper and got on the escalator. I watched her go. Did she know that Valli also had an American wife and an Arab horse that he ran in the Derby? Maybe. Did her older brother Jimhan foreseethat his sister would return to her native village and throw herself at the feet of her parents with words of remorse, and he himself would be shot by the feds the next night? Did Valli himself enjoylooking down on us as his Chechen wife with a Shahid’s belt kissed me in the cramped subway? Oh, I didn’t know myself! People passed me, jostled me, and I just stood there, motionless, still tasting the blood from the bitten lips of the one who was going to heaven.

ABOUT LOVE

The black water was bitterly cold. Cautiously, I approached the shore and looked into the soul of the lake. Leaves slowly swirled across the water. On the other side, the old church was disappearing into the darkness, and if it hadn’t been for the yellow eye of the moon, it would have been completely invisible. Involuntarily, I raised my hand to make the sign of the cross, but instead of praying, my lips whispered a frightening revelation:

«Love is still a great force on earth. So greatthat not everyone can keep it in their heart.

My fingers still smelled the dizzyingly intoxicating scent of this beautiful woman.

ABANDONED BEACH AND GHOST

I never thought I’d find myself in such a mysterious place on a late autumn evening. If you find yourself in the Shchukinskaya metro area and, getting to the embankment, turn left under the bridge, then you will see a wild coast. There are no streetlights here, only occasionally the lights of foreign cars with tinted windows flash out, and God only knows why they come here, and what happens in them when they are parked.

It’s quiet here. A rare bird will sing its trill, but occasionally a ship will pass by, and the sound of a coastal wave will remind you that the Moscow River is flowing somewhere nearby… You will notice its beauty, and longing will fill your soul. The distant lights of civilization twinkle on the other side. There’s Strogino. At this time, it is almost deserted. You can meet a fisherman returning from an evening fishing trip, there are probably maniacs here and their doomed victims roam, rustling the fallen leaves. This place attracts, attracts with its silence, and not everyone will dare to go down in the late evening and touch the cool surface of the water. I’m going down a slippery cliff, almost falling, running… ancient willows… black branches hanging down and lightly touching you. You embrace the crown and feel how the history of this place is transmitted to you by fragments of memories. You want to smoke, you rummage in your pockets and look for a cigarette and lighter. A strong wind puts out the fire. A slight shiver passes over your skin when a shadow slips by and you catch a glimpse of its silhouette out of the corner of your eye. Please don’t smoke! This attracts an extra glance. The darkness is watching, and thousands of invisible eyes are sizing you up like a stranger. It is not comfortable here, but you can no longer leave, give in to a sense of fear. You must fully experience the mystery of the abandoned beach. Here lives the soul of a lost girl. Her lone shadow on such moonlit nights sits on a rock by the water and waits for you to speak. I ask her if she is happy here. And she replies that she hasn’t felt the cold in a long time. She says my lips are very sweet.