Obedient stranger

The stranger started, as if shot, and stopped, as if remembering something. Then she turned to me and smiled at me through her tears.

“Oh, is that you…?” her lips whispered softly. – I thought you wouldn’t be waiting for me.” I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I even wanted to text you that everything was canceled, but then I decided that this would not be quite right. You don’t like text messages. Well, what do you stand for? Take my hand, lead me into this treacherous darkness. Now I am an obedient, fallen woman, the most obedient in the world, order me to sit down, I will sit down, order me to sing, I will sing, I am all in your power. Do you understand, do you understand? And this is not a joke. Only you don’t have more than fifteen minutes. Are you driving? Maybe it’s better to do it in the car?

I listened to her whisper like a death sentence, unable to resist or contradict her, and felt a shiver run through my whole trembling body. This beautiful, proud woman was now confessing her infinite obedience to me, but I still resisted the temptation. My warm heart fell in love with her as she is, as if she had come down from the crucifixion for all our sins and stretched out her merciful hands to us. I was shamefacedly silent, at a loss for words. She looked at me questioningly, genuinely not understanding why I was wasting precious time, and that mesmerizing whisper, so naturally and naturally falling from her lips, still seemed to rustle through the night leaves in the dark, inspiring me and at the same time making me lose my mind. Her pale face seemed to glow in the gloom, or perhaps it was tears, but I no longer understood what was happening to me, and for a little while I was even ready to fall on my knees and kiss the toes of her boots, begging for forgiveness. But I was afraid that such an act might be perceived by her as impertinence and even perversity, and therefore I did not find anything better than to hand her these red, bloody roses. The stranger took them carefully, and there was a pause between us, and I began to tell her, in a confused way, that I had come by metro and preferred a walk in nature to all this. She smiled bitterly again, held the flowers to her powdered nose, and thought for a moment. There was still a tear on her pale cheek, and I leaned down and licked it gently, feeling the salty taste of her heartache on my lips.

“I wonder if he’s watching us now.” “What is it?” she asked softly, pulling away slightly.

“Of course he sees everything,” I said, thinking that in such touching moments of our intimacy, she had decided to talk about God.

“If he’s watching, it’s just awful, awful,” she said excitedly. “So all this evil, all this vulgarity and abomination, which he so indifferently observes, is also on his conscience. He’s just as much an accomplice, yes, and even more of a criminal than you and I are.” – Let’s wait here for a few more minutes, maybe he’ll come down and stop this madness.”

“Yes, who are you talking about?” I was suddenly afraid.

I thought she was out of her mind. All the same, the nervous tension that Ono had carefully concealed all these years behind the playful gaze of an obedient coquette could not pass without a trace. I frowned, much to my shame, in fear, but the stranger suddenly laughed merrily, as if she had been playing tricks on me all the time, and I smiled back.

– I told my husband that I was going on a date with you. He didn’t believe me and asked me to buy some bread at the same time. So you still need to go to the bread shop.

She looked indignantly at the windows of the house where the lights were on, and then waved the roses in the air. I hesitated, waiting for a row. To be honest, I didn’t want to meet her husband, all this airy romance could end in a banal fight or a knife fight, but the woman, mistaking the alarm on my face for disappointment, calmed me down.

“Don’t worry, those fifteen minutes are all yours.

She took my hand herself, and we walked slowly and silently through the square. She had a warm, pleasant hand, and I noticed the ring on her finger, the same ring she used to wear when she cheated on her husband. This ring had a kind of magical charm for her at such times. This woman sincerely believed that by putting it on her ring finger, she becomes as if invulnerable to judgment, protected from the torments of conscience and all that usually happens to a person who lives by constant deception of people close to him. This ring was given to her a couple of years ago by her first lover, with whom she used to ride a bicycle in the evenings. The lover was sixty-two years old, a well-respected professor, with a goatee and curly sideburns, married, and an appreciation of decency and loyalty in women. He had a rheumatic wife, whom he assured me he was very fond of and always sent to sanatoriums for treatment. This professor wore thick-lensed glasses and could spend hours talking tirelessly about politics and science. He looked proud and knowledgeable. With the Obedient Stranger, he was also thinking about some worldly and complex things that she had never thought about before. But most often he said that a woman’s lot is a hearth and children, that a wife should obey her husband in everything, love him and forgive all his sins.

“A man can be forgiven for cheating. By nature, he is a hunter, a male, a warrior. He should always be in shape, and a daily evening bike ride with a beautiful woman like you will only do me good.

Oddly enough, but his wife approved of her husband’s hobbies in sports. Once she even invited an Obedient Stranger to visit to drink tea, so to speak, to talk about the painful, feminine. The professor at this time went to Spain for two weeks on a well-deserved business trip. An Obedient Stranger could have gone to Spain, but her visa was delayed. The professor’s avarice was to blame for everything. He did not want to pay an extra twenty Euros for mediation in obtaining a visa in a short time.

His wife was a sweet, elderly woman with a pained, somewhat martyred look in her large gray eyes. It had a very elongated skull, like a horse’s. When she listened to the other person, she tilted her head forward a little, and then others had an involuntary desire to feed her pieces of sweet sugar or cookies.

– Do you also like to ride a bike? – What is it? “she asked the Dutiful Stranger.

They were sitting together in the small kitchen, sipping tea and raspberry jam. The jam was delicious and healthy. The obedient Stranger carefully picked it up from the saucer with a small silver teaspoon and brought it to her lips, slowly tasting it.

“Not that I like it,” she answered honestly, squinting with pleasure, “but I like talking to Sergey Pavlovich. He’s a very interesting person.

– You think so?” The hostess smiled as she poured another cup of tea from a porcelain teapot, “But for me, Sergei Pavlovich is simply unbearable, terribly boring and arrogant. Oh, how arrogant he is! The other day he took me to the doctor, and someone in front of him was driving slowly, so he honked at him and swore like a shoemaker. I sat quietly and felt ashamed. By God, I even blushed with shame for Sergei Pavlovich. I do not know what he does at the university, but he just tortured the students, just tortured them. He is very demanding, strict with them, but also condescending. It always gives them a chance to improve. Some even come home to study with us. I turn a blind eye to this. She even said it as a joke once. Don’t mess up the girls. And he was angry: “Who do you take me for?. I have prostatitis, by the way.” Yes, yes, he has prostatitis. He’s suffering, oh, if you only knew how much he’s suffering, my dear… And his kidneys are sick, and his liver. Who likes to talk about their illnesses? I have rheumatism myself. Otherwise I would have kept you company.” You know, when I was little, I also rode a bicycle, but only then there were other bicycles, simple and reliable, and these… Every time after a walk he fixes it, then some gear will fall off, then the wheel will puncture, once he came home at night. I thought he wasn’t coming. I called all the morgues, and the police-the police we have with humor. Well, you know our local policeman Yegorov. They say that if he was a child, then this is one thing, but an adult can go anywhere he wants. Maybe he’s sitting in a bar, drinking, or having fun with his mistress. Yes, what are you, okstatsya! I tell them. Sergey Pavlovich hasn’t had a drink in forty years since our wedding. Well, if he is not a child on the passport, then he is definitely a boy at heart, yes, yes. Well, what kind of mistresses at his age, it’s even funny, young man, you may have a mistress, and he has a sixty-year-old wife and prostatitis… I tell him.

In general, with the approval of this nice, well-mannered woman, a bearded professor, usually in a tracksuit and a cap pulled over his head, and our heroine with loose brown hair, rolled around the city squares. Often she would pass her partner by a couple of meters and stay that way all the way. Sergei Pavlovich muttered something about serious things after her, while not forgetting to look at the women’s buttocks in tight leggings, shifting in the saddle. All this caused the professor to push harder and harder on the pedals, which is exactly what he did.

And when all this happened by itself, to pay off, or as a sign of gratitude, he gave her this ring. The cheapest with chrysolite. The dutiful Stranger accepted the keepsake and said goodbye. She didn’t enjoy this momentous relationship at all, except for the experience, which was not sexual, but rather moral. Also with this experience came the conviction that lovers should look for younger and not boring. But here, too, our heroine was burned by inexperience.

The young man she’d met through her in-laws had turned out to be quite good in bed, but quite infantile. Maxik, as everyone called him, was often touchy, tearful, and most importantly, unreliable. He made her jealous of his peers, often reproached her for seducing him, although, rather, it was the opposite. And as a result of all these clarifications, a period of suffering, torment, and some kind of spiritual vacillation began. The obedient Stranger suffered, realizing that instead of a courageous lover, she had acquired a second son for herself. She even gave him toys, dressed him as she wanted, and fed him in cafes and restaurants. And yet, at one point, she even wanted to kill herself, but at the last moment she changed her mind. She forgave him everything, threw herself at his feet and begged him not to leave her. All this was repeated and repeated, until naturally it turned into some kind of unhealthy feeling, and in the end, the young man was taken to the army, and she was treated with antibiotics for two months by a venereologist.

Then there was this social network. Someone called her an Obedient Stranger on the Internet, which suited her mood. For all men, she wanted to be both mysterious and obedient at the same time. She was quite adept at playing the role, pretending, acting, and playing pranks. Her photos, often erotic and provocative content, made a splash on the Internet. Popularity grew by leaps and bounds. Men and even women wrote her enthusiastic comments, tempted her with big money and offered meetings. At first, she didn’t want any adventures. Maybe she hoped that Maxik would come back to her after the army, matured and wiser, and she would be able to keep him, but in the meantime, she could have harmless fun posting intimate photos of herself online… In addition, she was going to file for divorce and even consulted with a lawyer on this issue. Her husband still didn’t notice the change in her, and she was already trying not to show it. She even became afraid that her husband would figure out everything and go to the secret page. She even became paranoid about it. It seemed to her that he had already guessed and was just pretending that nothing was happening. That he didn’t want to lose her, that even if he did find out, he’d try not to notice. Sometimes she tried to bring him to light, hinted to him about their adventures, but her husband was silent as a fish, and was blind as a mole.

– Where did you learn all this?’ – What is it? ‘he asked listlessly, looking at the TV.

He was sitting on the couch, watching football on TV. The dutiful Stranger had just buttoned up the fly of his trousers and got up from her lap. She honestly did not understand what you can find interesting in this sport, when two dozen adult men run around the field and chase the ball. And yet others are watching it and yelling and shouting like crazy, happy and sad when the ball crosses the cherished line. An obedient Stranger still understood the theater or a bicycle tour, but so that football… It was all very upsetting for her. She glanced at her husband again. There was a bottle of beer and two glasses on the coffee table in front of him. A torn pack of crackers lay nearby.

“How pathetic and stupid he is,” thought the Obedient Stranger. – I’ve just done it to him, and he’s still watching the match and drinking beer, as if nothing has happened.”

– So where did you learn all this stuff?” Still, he repeated the question as he handed her the glass he’d poured and almost didn’t look up from his football.

“Learned what?” She mimicked him as she sat down next to him.

She suddenly felt disgusted and disgusted to be around her husband, to breathe the same air as him, to raise the same son together. The whole thing suddenly tasted horribly disgusting, and even his sticky seed in her mouth triggered a sickening reflex, and she quickly washed down the unpleasant taste with a cool beer.

“Well… that’s…” the husband hesitated, watching the game intently. “No, look at what they’re doing!

– Don’t you like it?’ ‘What is it?’ she asked, deliberately angry. ‘They taught me.

The wife hoped that her husband’s previously unknown free-spirited audacity would lead them both to the long-awaited explanation, that he would let it slip and say that he knew more about her than he should. Then she would show him all her cards, too, and they would decide what to do next. Living a lie was becoming unbearable for her. She didn’t know how to rouse him, how to shake him so that he would think for a moment and understand how much she was suffering. But my husband was watching football. After all, their son together was twelve years old, and twenty more years of boring marriage. Yes, he didn’t mind trying to diversify his sex life with her, especially since everything was already fine there. She seemed to be getting her orgasm faster in bed, and he was already taking credit for it.

“The main thing is that without fanaticism,” he thought to himself, “yes, and an adult son in the next room. That’s not even the point. I earned the right to rest, I came home from work, ate and here’s a football and a bottle of wine. This was discussed, I think, for about two weeks. Well, if she wants to do it, let her do it. What do I care? I never objected to her. Now she says that she decided to do yoga, but let her do it, even if she shoots from a bow, and how much underwear she bought, she scored a whole wardrobe, and, by the way, this is a lot of money, I change my underwear once a year, and I think I also have a new hairstyle. Or not?”

The husband glanced at his wife and drained his glass.

“Yes, how did I forget, she went to the beauty salon the other day… or was it last month?”

– Watch your football, why are you looking at me like that? “What is it?” she asked, and gave her husband her half – finished glass.

He took it without looking at it and drank it down in one gulp. His heart was beginning to tingle and his head was beginning to ache. So he sat down comfortably on the sofa and adjusted the small pillow behind his back.

“A good wife is the one who leaves her husband to finish her glass,“he decided.

She smiled wickedly.

– I just don’t want to get drunk.” I have a date in the yard right now.

– Well, well… – my husband did not believe me. – I suppose you’ve decided to go cycling with that barmaley again?”

“What are you doing? Sergey Pavlovich is in the past, and besides, he’s not my type. Do you remember that strange guy who was sitting at the next table when we were at the mall?

– Painfully I need to watch out for all the males twirling around your skirt… – the husband grinned and suddenly pressed himself into the sofa.

On the TV, the fans ' stands howled. The commentator was commenting something absurd. She didn’t understand why people were cheering.

– By the way, the guy who sold us the bottle wasn’t a guy at all, but a woman. You’re completely lying, honey, and you don’t notice what’s going on around you. For you, work comes first. You’ve been waiting for a promotion for the last ten years, and you’re glad as hell you didn’t get fired last month for absenteeism.

– Have mercy, but there was an emergency at work, the pipes burst, it was urgent to save the goods, and the chief ordered everyone to come. This is a normal occurrence. And I, by the way, physically could not. You know why. How was he supposed to explain my absence? What your wife won’t let you out of the house?

– You could have climbed over the neighbors ' balcony, eventually using persuasion or even force to take my keys.

“Well, yes, well, yes… beliefs… will you convince me… That’s for sure. Oh, shit! What are they doing!

And the husband shrank back into the sofa and clutched his head. From the TV screen, the howl of the heated stands could be heard again, turning into a long and joyful” Goooll!!!”.

“I’m terribly stuffy in here,” his wife suddenly raised her voice. “Do you understand?” And it’s not good to keep yourself waiting.

– Well, well… also tell me that he is waiting for you right now at the entrance – — the husband grinned, tensely watching the counterattack of his team.

“Look out the window.”

– I’ll still be looking out the window… an important bird.” You should invite him home to us or something… we need to meet on the Elbe sometime, otherwise it’s even becoming indecent.

“You shouldn’t be being sarcastic, honey. I’ll just invite you. But you’ll probably freak out.

– Why am I freaking out?”

– I think you’ll freak out.”

My wife got up from the sofa, went to the mirror and began to apply makeup, looking at her reflection.

– So what are you going to do?” My husband muttered to himself.

My wife picked up her lipstick and held it to her lips.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, “I promised him that I would fulfill all his wishes. What he tells me, I’ll do. Like that.

– And how happy are you to be a goldfish?” My husband asked, crunching a cracker apetitically.

Now he had convinced himself that his wife was deliberately trying to provoke a fit of jealousy in him, and he chuckled to himself. A cracker stuck in my throat at the wrong time. The man cleared his throat and reached for his glass, hoping it would help.

“Adies,” his wife said, kissing him on the forehead. – I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, don’t be bored.”

He waved her off as if she were an annoying fly.

“Only fifteen minutes, no more!” He shouted over the TV. “Buy some bread at the same time.

– Shh, my son is sleeping! He has a test tomorrow – " his wife put her index finger to her lips.

She bent down to put on her boots. The lightning jammed, but then it gave way.

IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME, I’LL DO EVERYTHING MYSELF

She was practically shaking with anger and the smug irony her husband exuded. Tears welled up in her eyes as she clawed at the elevator doors, hurrying them open to escape into the unknown. She didn’t care what this man did to her. She was ready to satisfy his lust without hesitation or remorse. She didn’t want to go home at all. It was as if the house had ceased to exist for her at that moment. It was no longer her fortress, her refuge, where she could feel safe. She was shaking from her husband, from his touch and embrace, from what she had just done with him. Now there were strangers living in her house, and even her son, who seemed to be her own boy, was hated by her only because he looked like her husband. Just as indifferent, just as gluttonous and stubborn. Husband, husband, husband, she suddenly wanted to kill him, but not just to take his life, but so that he would suffer before that, so that he would realize the full extent of his crime against her. It was he, as she believed, who was responsible for her downfall, it was he who threw her into the abyss of debauchery, cruelly humiliated and insulted her feminine nature.

“I wanted bread! Look at you! Well, never mind, you’ll have bread and butter! she said through gritted teeth. ‘I wish he was jealous, I wish he’d run after her.’ No, he’s lying on the couch and laughing. And, by the way, it’s almost night, and you never know what can happen.”

Running out of the elevator and down the stairs, her heels clattering loudly, the Obedient Stranger put the cherished ring on her finger on the move. Now she was invulnerable and invisible. No one had the right to reproach her.

“Lord, Lord, save and preserve us!” her lips whispered, and her heart beat painfully and wistfully in her chest.

Rushing out of the entrance, she did not immediately notice the man sitting on the bench. Then, when he called out to her and their eyes met, she silently called him Lord. However, she called so all her lovers from the Internet, with whom she decided to meet for cheating on her husband recently.

Perhaps this one was a little strange, too vulnerable and somehow correct. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was pretty enough for one evening, with a tearful look in his eyes, and he was wearing some kind of black Chinese jacket. When he got up, he was tall and slightly stooped. His eyes were kind and inviting, and they looked straight into the soul. Nothing escaped that searching gaze. He seemed to see right through her and understand a lot. Such a person did not need to confess or even repent, he did not have to offend, deceive.

“Oh, is that you…?” – What is it? “she asked wearily.

Just like at the mall, he was wearing an old-fashioned hat that was surprisingly well suited to his strange Chinese jacket with shiny buttons. The obedient Stranger noticed at once that the Sovereign never removed his headdress under any circumstances, and only in the first moments of greeting did he respectfully push this crushed hat onto his forehead. His boots were shiny, too, and they looked clean and well-groomed in all weathers. No dirt stuck to them, even when he walked through puddles. In the eyes of the woman who was peacefully contemplating him, throughout the entire walk, he remained a kind of refined aesthete, intelligent, exemplary, of rare noble blood, if only a little crushed by life. She noticed that he had a slight limp on his left leg, and she admitted to herself that he needed a cane with an artistically carved head to complete the picture.

“Old wounds,” he said, as if apologizing to her. “I fell from a great height. In one Israeli clinic, they are trying to restore the joint, but I don’t dare yet.

He also had one notable detail that the Dutiful Stranger kept thinking about. The man was wearing loose trousers, and there, in the causal place, he clearly had something heavy hanging out and indecently sticking out. Some women were undoubtedly confused and even frightened by this, others found it funny, but there were also those who, in their criminal curiosity, even wanted to check out what he was hiding there and how it worked. In any case, he behaved with women confidently, with dignity, gave them a chance to speak out and never was impertinent. The master was tall and slightly plump, with a clean-shaven face and a slow, rather innate grace that belied his old-fashioned, faded hat.

They walked hand in hand along the path of the square, away from the light of houses and street lamps. She clutched the red roses to her chest so that the night’s draft wouldn’t damage them, and she pulled him forward, and he seemed to stop her, not in a hurry at all, even though he knew that he was very limited in time.