Mishka Ben-David - Forbidden Love in St. Petersburg

As I stretched my hand towards the buttons of her blouse she said, I’ll undress myself. She stepped away, turning her back to me. I too undressed.

Sorry that it’s so cold, she said, as she slipped under the quilt and I didn’t know whether she meant the temperature of the room or the reserved way in which we were doing things.

I joined her under the quilt, dismissing from my mind any fantasies I may have had of quick sex. Anna was half with me and half in some other place. Again I kissed her and again she responded by kissing me cautiously, her tongue continuing to insinuate her other world into my mouth. I caressed her shoulder, her back; her skin was covered in goose pimples and quivered slightly to the touch of my palm. I kissed her brow, her eyes which opened to me in the dark, her neck.

Anna, Annushka, I heard myself saying and she, at the sound of my endearments, pressed her head into my shoulder. I held her in my arms, a prisoner of the softness and scent of the new body. Nothing from my past had prepared me for the silkiness and loveliness of the ripe and relaxed body now in my arms. From the depths of her being came sobs that she tried in vain to suppress.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, she said. It’s so difficult for me.

I didn’t suggest leaving. I wanted her so very much and in a way that was entirely different from my desire for her only a little while earlier. Anna was now embedded in my heart, in my soul, I wanted to be good for her.

I stroked her back, the tips of my fingers running up and down her spine as she trembled to my touch.

That’s nice, she said, and her naturally deep voice became even deeper when whispering. Even though your hand is still cold.

Your skin is so soft, I said, as the goose pimples vanished.

When she drew away from me a little, I placed my hand on her soft, heavy breast, one finger circling her nipple which began to harden slightly. Again she kissed me, her kisses covering my face, and when my hand slid between her thighs she whispered, you don’t need to, I’m ready, come to me.

Her scent on my fingers was different from the female smells I’d experienced before. She lay on her back, and when I entered her I was surrounded by a warmth and a softness that was out of this world. Anna sighed, a sigh of sheer pleasure.

Potikhonechku , she said, which I understood as ‘slowly’ or ‘gently’ or ‘carefully’.

I didn’t want to, nor could I, be otherwise. I was overcome with love and affection.

Do I need to be careful? No, Anna whispered and, to my shame, after less than a minute of gentle movement I came into her wet softness.

It was my turn to say sorry, but Anna didn’t let me utter a word. She filled my mouth with kisses and only said, stay, don’t move, please stay.

I remained inside her, entrapped for a while in her embrace. As I left her body I was overwhelmed by a sense of despondence but she continued holding me and wouldn’t allow me to move away, her beautiful eyes gazing into mine and she said, ‘my love’.

And this time it was I who pressed my head into her shoulder.

IHOPED TO make amends for my lacklustre performance later that night when I was drained and less excited but Anna gently told me that it would be best for me to go. She didn’t want her neighbours to see me leaving her apartment in the morning so soon after her husband’s death.

She suggested calling a cab which I didn’t want to do, preferring to make my way on foot, even though she claimed that it was dangerous. I knew from a briefing by our intelligence people that regular taxis didn’t run in St Petersburg late at night and that the only ones available were private and controlled by the Mafia, a group I preferred not to make myself known to. I got dressed without taking a shower and bent down to kiss her. Anna sat on her bed, her hair dishevelled and then, wrapped in the duvet, accompanied me to the door and again kissed me. I left her apartment quietly and strode into a bleak and deserted street.

I was shivering as I walked through the narrow alleyways and past the huge, silent, residential buildings. I didn’t know whether the tremors running through me were due to the dry, intense cold, the freezing gusts of wind that blew in every time I crossed a road leading to the sea, or whether to what I had just experienced with Anna. I felt as though the iceberg inside me had split apart, and that chunks of it had plunged into turbulent waters, creating a whirlpool of differing emotions within me. Magical threads still connected me to Anna’s soft body. The inviting, warm embrace of the wetness inside her, the taste of her, her scent, her voice, her gentle touch, the noble manner in which she accepted the hurried way I’d come. They all combined to produce a storm of sensations that I felt not only in my groin but in my entire being.

As I continued on my way, I felt saddened by my performance, disappointed in myself, remembering how, whenever Orit and I had sex, it went on for a long time. I had no idea what the future held for Anna and me. Would she want to see me again? And if not? The love I felt had settled in my heart. I couldn’t think clearly. I walked as if intoxicated. Two drunks, curled up in the entrance to one of the buildings, heard me approaching and tried to haul themselves up and come towards me. But something about the way I was walking apparently put them off. Perhaps they saw me as one of them, and so it ended with them merely mumbling some unintelligible words as I passed by.

I don’t know how long it took me to get home. I paid no attention to what time it was when I reached Moskovsky Prospekt. It was only when I passed Vashkirova’s restaurant that I knew I was nearly at my apartment. I was still trembling so much that I couldn’t slide the building door’s magnetic key into its slot and then had difficulty inserting the key into the lock of my own front door. I even had trouble undoing the buttons of my clothing. I fell onto the bed fully dressed and with my overcoat still on, wrapped myself up in a blanket and didn’t wake up until lunchtime the following day.

The alluring scent of Anna’s wetness, now dried all over my loins, remained with me as I undressed. I pleasured myself with that intoxicating smell for quite some time, passing it with my fingers to my nose. For a moment I even considered not having a shower so as to keep the aroma of her sexual musk. This feeling might not return so quickly. Perhaps not at all.

The bickering with HQ over the Tajikistan intelligence-gathering instructions continued all day. I was asked to go there without delay, apparently because of the expected arrival of some senior members of the Iranian Revolutionary Guards. Reluctantly, I booked myself a flight for the following morning. In the meantime, I counted the hours till my return to Vashkirova’s restaurant.

Anna waited for me at her usual table, and as I entered gave me the most enchanting of her smiles. She removed the bag from the seat beside her. I leant over to her, she tilted her head slightly, and I kissed her cheek, not her lips as I had wanted. She noticed that and smiled coyly.

I felt so stupid all day not being able to contact you–I don’t have your number either at home or at the office and as I waited for a call from you I realized that you too had no way of getting hold of me by phone. We didn’t even exchange numbers. Terrible.

A split second before I allowed a sense of joy to engulf me, Anna added: I was worried about you and angry with myself. How could I have allowed you to go off at night and on foot, and who would have known if you hadn’t got back safely: there is, after all, no shortage of drunks and hooligans around here.

So that’s what worried her. Not a yearning for the man who’d been with her the previous night at the concert and in bed. And indeed there was perhaps nothing to yearn for. I’d behaved like an overwrought pupil both in the concert hall and while we made love.