Theodore Odrach - Wave of Terror

Dounia remained indifferent; she felt she had done nothing wrong. Leyzarov no longer interested her and she wanted to be rid of him, it was as simple as that. She felt obliged to tell him to go away, that he ought not to pester her any more, and just as she was about to do that, she was struck with an idea. She decided to make him an offer.

“Iofushka,” she whispered, “I’ve been thinking. I have a proposition for you and it’s quite a generous one, one that I thought up all by myself just now. It’s like this: you can remain my lover as long as you agree to share me with Kokoshin. It’s up to you.”

Leyzarov could not believe his ears. He was willing to give way to some extent, but there was a limit to what was and was not acceptable to him. Red with anger and confusion, he remained speechless for the longest time.

Dounia looked impatiently at him. “Is that a no? Well, Iofushka, then it looks like it’s goodbye.” She shrugged, a look of disappointment passed across her face and vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I must admit, it was fun while it lasted. Come here and give me one last kiss.”

Grabbing hold of his head, almost crushing his jaw, she thrust her thick red lips upon his. Leyzarov felt a pang, then long spasms shot through his body. Soon all feelings of resentment disappeared and he began to experience pleasurable sensations. He wanted to have Dounia the way he had always had Dounia, with her fierce embraces, her brutality, her abuses. Out of breath, his deep-seated lust for her intensifying, in a split second he decided to surrender himself to her demands. Sharing her might not be such a bad idea after all — it was not as if he was being cut off completely. Dounia was a substantial woman with more than enough to go around. And Kokoshin wasn’t that bad, a good sort really, a bit obnoxious at times, but it was not as if their paths would ever have to cross. Then remembering the endless supply of bread and sausages Kokoshin regularly confiscated from local villagers, he smacked his lips and smiled to himself. Yes, this arrangement might work out better than he thought. And before he knew it he had accepted the new arrangement enthusiastically.

Dounia was delighted by Leyzarov’s turnabout. Twirling his hair with the tips of her fingers, she whispered softly and joyfully in his ear, “Ah, there, Iofushka, I knew you’d come around.”

Thus the threesome — Dounia, Leyzarov, and Kokoshin — comfortably and unabashedly settled into their new lifestyle. They reveled in their shamelessness, not caring what anyone thought or said, engaging in thrilling round-the-clock orgies. When Leyzarov arrived at the front door, Kokoshin left by the back. Kokoshin would bring cheeses, breads, and kielbasa; Leyzarov, whisky. Things could not have worked out better and the two men even started to like each other. If they happened to meet along the way, they greeted each other with a sort of camaraderie, exchanging playful, knowing glances. Soon their visits with Dounia began to coincide, and passionately devoted to her as they were, with the aid of liquor, they soon discovered a new kind of ecstasy. The threesome now spent their days and nights together in wild scenes of sex and scandal.

The shocking story of the ménage a trois spread quickly: two representatives of the national Party and a Morozovich schoolteacher engaging in lewd, licentious, sexual escapades. There was talk of dancing, drinking, and all-night carousing. Legends were created about Dounia — the unappeasable seductress, a Siren, who lured men into her boudoir and bound them in salacious misbehavior. Her sexual appetite was said to be so great and insatiable that she was capable of accommodating the entire Red Army.

In Hlaby the teachers of School Number Seven, including Headmaster Kulik, were well aware of the goings-on in the shabby little cottage on the edge of Morozovich. Although this debauched trio did not set a good example for the people of the region, especially for the young, they did provide a much-needed distraction from the pressures of everyday life. Leyzarov and Kokoshin had begun to neglect their duties. From early February there had been a dramatic decrease in the number of Clubhouse meetings, and in the few that were called, the two men were absent more often than not. Almost all political duties had come to a standstill: wages were no longer confiscated, men were not rounded up and sent to work on the Bugsy-Dnieprovsky Canal, and land was no longer expropriated. Even Cornelius, the Village Chairman, who normally busied himself in and around the Clubhouse with various tasks, felt as if he were on holiday.

Everyone was grateful to Dounia Avdeevna for having taken the two Party men off their hands. It was because of her that the entire region was experiencing a sort of mid-winter thaw. The men wallowing in drunkenness and adultery at all hours gave the villagers a break from their misery. They couldn’t have been more pleased.

But Dounia was beginning to feel restless and unfulfilled. Leyzarov and Kokoshin were no longer meeting her needs, and she started to look for a change, a new kind of thrill. And it didn’t take long for her to find it; in fact, it was a place she had had her eye on for the longest time — the Hlaby school. The prospects there looked very good indeed, with three eligible men to choose from, all very different from one another: Sergei, Ivashkevich, and Kulik. But she decided that Sergei was much too young and inexperienced, and that Ivashkevich, overweight, middle-aged and balding, was possibly even impotent. That left Kulik as her next target. Not wasting any time, one night when the clock struck eleven, she threw her cloak over her shoulders, wrapped her head in a long knitted shawl, and made for Hlaby. When she reached the school, she went around the back to Kulik’s living quarters, and, happy to find the door unlocked, went inside. Kulik, who was at his desk working on some papers, looked up in astonishment.

“Good evening, citizen!” Dounia called out in a sing-song voice, looking somewhat flustered. “Forgive me for coming here so late, but I’m at a total loss. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m not prepared for my morning class and I desperately need your help. It’s about a lesson in mathematics. The fourth graders need to be taught fractions. I’m here because I didn’t know where else to turn.”

Kulik gazed at her, incredulous. “Fractions? You came here in the middle of the night because of fractions ? Well, fractions are not such a big mystery, but unfortunately it’s late and I’m ready to turn in for the night. Why don’t you come back in the morning? I can review the lessons with you before classes start.” Rising from behind his desk, eager to be rid of her, he tried to push her out the door.

“Oh, what a wonder you are.” Dounia lavished a seductive smile on him, “Are you trying to get rid of me already? Why, I just got here.” She winked at him. “Does it make you nervous being alone with a woman in the middle of the night? I won’t attack you, I promise.” She took off her cloak, plopped herself into an armchair and threw back her arms. Kulik waited for what would come next. At last she confessed, “The truth is I’m so miserable. I just had to get away from those two bulls back at my place. I’ve grown so tired of them. They don’t excite me any more.” Then, flushing, “I need someone who will bring a new kind of sensation into my life, a new kind of passion, if you know what I mean.”

Kulik saw her point at once; he knew where she wanted to take him. But he said, “You mustn’t talk of Comrades Leyzarov and Kokoshin like that. They’re upstanding members of our national Party. You could find yourself …”

Dounia looked Kulik over, and burst into a fit of laughter. “I must say you’re a strange one. You’re what, twenty-five, thirty? Here you are, a grown man, talking to a hot-blooded woman with desire on her breath and what do you do? You behave like a babe in arms with the taste of your mother’s milk still on your tongue.” Then sardonically, “Tell me, Ivan, how do you manage to stay so chaste, so virtuous?”