One with the Wind (12 page)

            Josie ran her fingers across his thigh. “I suppose you want to go back to the room.”

            “I believe that is what was implied.” He rose from his seat and offered Josie his hand.

            On the way back he requested a fresh bottle of Arak and assorted mezza for their room. Josie caught a glimpse herself in their bedroom mirror. She had forgotten to take off her hajib and she stared at it in the mirror. There was something about her reflection she never noticed before now. Nick came up behind her and rubbed himself against her backside.

            “What do you think of the hajib?” she asked.

            “Sexy as hell,” he whispered.

            “Really, this turns you on?”

            He massaged her breasts through her t-shirt. “All I see is your face and when it’s all I see, I see more of
you
.” He turned her to face him. “I can see your every thought, your every emotion; I can see you.” Holding her firmly against his body, he kissed her lips.

            She smiled and cupped his face in her hands. She looked into his eyes and decided not to ruin the moment with a response. Nick still wore his Keffiyeh; Josie thought he looked very exotic with his suntanned face and glowing eyes. She pulled his face toward her and kissed him passionately.

            Slowly, he unwound the hijab from her head and laughed. The exposed part of her face was covered with dust, while the rest was white and clean. “It seems you need a wash, Mrs. Markovich.”

            “Maybe, but I’m not drenched with sweat and smelling like a wet dog in heat,” she teased.

            Josie led him into the bathroom, plugged the tub and started running the water. She undressed, tied her long blonde hair back into a high bun and stepped into the tub, reclining comfortably.  

            Nick stepped into the tub and faced her. He picked up the bar of soap and gestured. “Come here.” Josie scooted closer to him and he carefully washed her cheeks, nose, chin, and ears and rinsed the soap from her face.

            She lathered the soap bar in her hands and scrubbed his hair, face and, neck. She ran her hands down his chest and under his arms and scrubbed. Nick lowered his head as Josie rinsed his head with water. He turned off the spigot as the tub was nearly full.

            “I hope you’re not too bored,” he said.

            Josie leaned back and relished the hot water. “No, days just get long. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

            “That’s good.” He massaged her ankles, one at a time.

            “I can’t even believe we are here. It seems like yesterday we were two kids trying to get out of Johnstown. I bet our friends would never believe,” she said.

            “I think some can’t believe you actually married me,” Nick replied.

            She lifted her head and stared at him. “Why not? I bet there are girls in Johnstown crying in their pillows right now. I know I would have been had you married another woman.” She sat upright in the tub and put her arms around his neck. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

            “Luck must be a cheap commodity these days,” he replied.

            “Honey, don’t sell yourself short. You are a grade A, primo catch,” she said.

            He grinned. “I know. I just try to stay humble; don’t want my awesomeness to go to my head.”

            She kissed him on the cheek.  “No one could doubt your awesomeness.”

 

            Nick cuddled Josie as they lay in bed. “What was your dream about today? I could tell it was erotic. Was it about me?”

            Josie turned to face him. “There were these woman, they were dressed in black robes, kind of like Taliban. I was naked and they were massaging me everywhere.”

            Nick kissed her shoulder. “That doesn’t sound like Taliban.”

            “No, they weren’t the Taliban; they were dressed like. The woman spread my legs apart and then this dude had his way with me. Maybe it was the demon spirit you warned me about.”

            “It was me in a previous life. I was the high priest and my priestesses were preparing you for sanctimonious sex,” said Nick.

            Josie laughed. “Priestesses or haram?”

            “Priestesses, they don’t touch me, just you.” He kissed her ear. “Because they know how much you like it when women touch you,” he teased.

            She slapped him on the arm. “That was one time. Are you ever going to let me forget it?”

            “No, cause I can’t. The image will be forever burned in my mind.”

            “The guy…you, had this snake like dick that could move in all directions inside me. Do you think you can do that?”

            Nick rolled on top of her and slid his penis inside her. He swiveled his hips in a circular motion. “Like this?”

            “Hmm, that’s real nice,” sighed Josie, but it was like his penis was rubber.

            Concentrating, Nick continued wiggling his penis inside Josie. “That better?”

            “Oh, Oh yeah, that’s right baby,” she moaned, arching her back. He smirked and continued the motion with more force.  “Oh God!” she cried.

            “I’m here, baby!” he joked.

            Josie eyed him sarcastically but felt her body climax. “My husband is a freak!” she screamed.

            Nick dropped down next to her and played lightly with her nipple. “You scream freak in ecstasy as if it is a bad thing.”

            She curled closer to him. “You’re my freak; wouldn’t want you any other way.”

            Never in her wildest dreams did Josie imagine she would live in Russia, but after Nick was offered employment at a US television satellite studio; she couldn’t refuse. While Nick worked, she toured the city looking very much like an American foreign exchange co-ed. Although she was constantly hit on by boorish older men, it was the turned down noses and the sideways scoffs of the fashionable Moscow women that soured Josie to the city.       

            Josie stayed close to their apartment that overlooked Gorky Park and made sure to have dinner ready when Nick returned from work. They ate on the sofa, watching the news, and afterward they would set their plates aside and have sex. It became their nightly routine and neither one complained.

            Occasionally they were invited to some swanky dinner swarmed by beautiful women, many of them eyeing Nick. Josie never doubted his love for her, but she did doubt herself
. Am I beautiful enough? Can I keep him satisfied? Will another woman be able to fill all his needs?
Slowly she sank and Nick began to notice.

            “We don’t have to stay here. I can get a job anywhere,” he said one night after they made love.

            It’s not that she didn’t like Moscow; she just didn’t like herself in Moscow. The last thing she wanted to do was admit her insecurity; she knew he would find her silly. “I just feel out of place.”

            “Why don’t you take some classes at the American University, study the language, the history and literature,” he said with a yawn.

            Josie lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. It was the perfect suggestion and the next day, she enrolled in a few courses. Many of the people she met were young Americans as well as several others from different countries. She found a crowd of like-minded people to keep company and soon Moscow became a much warmer place despite the cold weather.

            Marta Balakin worked at the library where Josie studied. Josie hated Marta because she was ravishingly beautiful. She even disliked checking out books when Marta was at the desk. Josie felt inferior to Marta in every way.

            One day Marta surprised her by asking in perfect English, “Why don’t you like me?”

            Josie was taken aback and quickly had to come up with an excuse. “No. It’s not the case. My eyes, people say I have serious eyes. I just look serious all the time.”

            “You have very pretty eyes,” Marta said.

            The compliment stunned Josie. “Thank you.”

            “My eyes are plain,” said Marta. “I have to use so much makeup to make them look special.” She paused and awkwardly continued. “I usually don’t do this, but I don’t have any friends other than Russians; I’d like to know if you’d want to get some coffee sometime.”

            Josie could hardly believe her ears; a beautiful Russian girl wanting to befriend her. “Sure,” she said feeling suspicious.

            After Marta’s shift was over, she and Josie headed to the coffee shop, where Marta admired her diamond ring. “Are you engaged?” she asked.

           
Here it comes
,
she wants a threesome; she wants to steal my husband.
“Married,” she replied strongly.

            “That’s nice. I’ve been trying to get my boyfriend to propose. We’ve been dating now for two years. How long have you dated before you married?” asked Marta.

            Josie sighed.
She has a boyfriend
. “About five years. We dated in high school and through college.”

            “Wow, that’s so sweet. Is he American or Russian?” Marta asked.

            “American, he’s a cameraman working for a news station,” replied Josie.

            “What’s he like? I mean, what are American men like?” she asked.

            Josie was surprised she couldn’t answer; she didn’t date many American men. Really all she knew were David and Nick. “Is there much of a difference?”

            “My boyfriend, Oleg is very possessive, yet still he hasn’t asked me to marry him. Isn’t that strange? You’d think if he were so possessive, he’d marry me.” She laughed. “Is your husband possessive?”

            “Nick,” she said with a chuckle, “he’s from the future.”

            “What?” asked Marta.

            “That’s what he told me when we first met.” Josie drank her coffee. “My husband is weird.”

            Marta laughed out loud. “He sounds fun. How did you get him to ask you to marry him?”

            “I did nothing,” said Josie. “He just surprised me one day.”

            Marta took a sip of her coffee and stared intently at Josie. “You didn’t like me. I could tell. Why?”

            “It’s so silly. You’re so beautiful; all Moscow women are so beautiful. I guess I was jealous,” admitted Josie.

            “Can I tell you a secret?” Josie inched close to Marta to hear. “It’s all an illusion. It’s the way in Russia. Women are raised to look good for men.” She studied Josie’s expression and knew exactly what she was thinking. “I know. It sounds very sexist to American girls, but men like beautiful women,” Marta replied with a casual shrug.

            Josie sat back in her seat.
I’m married and you’re not. Love is not about beauty it’s about the person.
I don’t have to get all gussied up to attract Nick.
“My husband was never that big on made-up, fancy women.”

            “And yet you are jealous of all the beautiful Moscow women. Men are visual, they love looking at beautiful women. There is nothing wrong with being beautiful, especially being beautiful for someone you love,” stated Marta as she studied Josie’s thoughtful expression. “It’s more than just beauty; it is making your man feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Every man wants a ravishing woman on his arm; every man desires a woman who will make them feel they are the greatest catch.”

            “Not all men are into that macho bravado, having eye candy on their arm,” Josie protested.

            Marta reclined in her seat and stared smugly at Josie.

            “Not all women are supermodels who can pull it off. Everyone is different, all couples are different,” Josie defended.

            Marta leaned forward. “It’s an illusion. It’s not about how a woman looks; it’s about how a woman feels about herself. If a woman feels beautiful, she is beautiful. If she feels like an old hag, no amount of makeup can make her beautiful. How do you feel about yourself Josie?”

            She felt like crap; she felt unattractive and it concerned her. “I’m all right.”

            “What do you think when other women are admiring your husband? Are you worried he may run off with them, or are you confident no other woman could take your place?” Marta laughed. “Sometimes, I like to drive Oleg crazy. I dress up real sexy when we go out on the town. All guys try to hit on me, but I make sure they all know who my man is.”

            “Sounds like a game. Nick and I don’t play games with each other’s affection, besides we’re married.”

            “It’s not head games; it’s sex games. You’re out on the town, making each other so hot and you get home…that’s when the fun starts. Drive your man nuts in public, in private he drives you nuts,” explained Marta with a wink.

            “And you’re not married,” replied Josie.

            “And yet, we’re having crazy fun,” said Marta.

            Josie reflected; she used to have crazy fun with Nick, now they had fallen into a routine. She was living in a foreign city, ripe with adventure and yet she and Nick were growing boring.

            “I’ll make you a deal if you want. I’ll help you look like a Russian woman, if you can help me get my Oleg to marry me,” said Marta.

            It was a deal Josie didn’t know if she could accept; she didn’t even know this Oleg, but she did want to look as ravishing as the Russian women. “I—okay. I’ll try.”

            “Great! I’m sure you and I will become best friends.”

                       

            A few days later, Josie squinted at a sign hanging on a door. “What’s this place?”

            “It’s a bath house,” replied Marta casually.