Lola Smirnova - Twisted

As he speaks there is so much badness in his eyes that I fidget on my stool, trying to calm my already-burning-with-desire vagina.

‘I am in. I’m liking this dinner more and more – tasty and fun!’ I say and let one piece of bread slip back into the pot straight away. ‘Oopsy!’ I put on my flirty-naughty face. ‘It looks like I will end up very hungry tonight…’

Time goes by; the evening is lively and tasty. After dinner, Ali suggests we move to the couch with the wine to have some dessert. He points at the silver tray with its coke that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

It can’t get better than this… seriously!

The rest of the night we spend sniffing and fucking like crazy all over the place: on the tables, on the floor, against the walls and in the shower. We get to bed only at sunrise, with the first call to prayer.

As we lie spooning, exhausted and half asleep, Ali plays with a lock of my hair and gently bites my shoulder.

‘You know, I am not a big fan of relationships and commitment, but the honesty and courage in your eyes when you threw the money at me last night shook me somehow. I thought about you all night. Really, I couldn’t sleep.’ I hear the confusion in his voice.

‘Yeah, I was stupid to do that,’ I say and yawn at the same time.

I hear him smile. ‘Okay, it was a little stupid, but there was so much bluntness in your act as well. Trust me, Julia, not many people are capable of that.’

‘Uh huh.’ I’m struggling to keep up, and fall asleep.

I wake up alone in the bed; the place is quiet. I check the time. It’s 10 a.m. – Ali is probably at his lectures already. Wow. What a night – it was supernatural…

The swelling and slight discomfort in my pussy is the sweetest evidence that last night was not just a dream.

I jump into the shower, dress and go to the kitchen to make some coffee, while thoughtlessly singing ‘I can’t help falling in love’ by UB40.

I find a note and two hundred-dollar bills on the kitchen table, next to the violets:

‘It was a wonderful night. Thanks. Hope to see you soon… A.’

I smile, feeling fluttering butterflies in my chest, finish my coffee and leave without touching the money.

The next couple of weeks are really exhausting. I am fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about him. When I sleep, I dream about him. When I am awake, everything around me reminds me of him, and that eats up all of my consciousness. When other men touch me, I experience an almost physical pain and I want to cry, because I wish they were him.

Even my body is in bad condition.

While Alexandra keeps me busy, giving me two or three jobs a day, I drown myself in gallons of liquor and mountains of coke to make the hours when I am consumed by other men go faster and less painfully. Keeping my head as misty as possible helps, but at the same time, my body is struggling to handle all the crap I take in to reach that state.

On the rare occasions when Ali has a break in his studies, I come up with another lie for Alexandra about a painful period, headache or high blood pressure, and we can spend another perfect night together. And still, I take in a lot of blow, because Ali likes to relax and I just don’t know when to stop. As a result, I can hardly tell day from night. I often don’t remember who I fucked yesterday, and don’t really care who I’ll be with tomorrow. I am tired, very tired, and the only emotion I am capable of right now is hatred for Alexandra and all the I-hate-condoms-and-love-to-fuck-for-hours clients she sends me to. There are so many of them; the fucking never ends. But I don’t care… Ali… I wait for him to call me and tell me when we can meet again.

I don’t know where are we going with this relationship, if you could even call it that. Ali feeds me with some bullshit excuse that he cannot commit to anything until he finishes his studies. ‘It is something I promised to my parents and myself. Nothing will stop or distract me from getting a degree. First, a good job, then a family.’

Blah blah blah…

But I don’t really care, as long as he lets me be with him at least sometimes. I get through three, four or sometimes five, six days and as many as ten, 15 or even 20 dicks knowing that I will see him again. That is all that matters.

Although, apparently I don’t look okay anymore either, and get increasingly more comments from Inna about needing a rest. ‘You must take a day off, Jul. You look very tired,’ or ‘If you do call in sick, stay in bed, you need to catch up on some sleep.’

Yes, I am very tired, but why can’t you just shut up and mind your own business? I don’t need your concern. If I get a chance to see him, I will.

I even stopped answering Inna, to save some energy on arguments. Or, it could be that I just don’t care about anything but the following Friday. Ali told me he is going out with his friends for a boys’ night out, but that if I want I could join him afterwards at his place.

Friday. I will see him on Friday…

Hi my Poppy-seed,

How are you doing?

You wouldn’t believe what happened last night !

My Michel decided to surprise me and without saying a word showed up in our cabaret ! OMF! We opened six bottles of Dom Perignon and got wasted together with Natalia . Obviously he drank most of it, and even needed assistance to get into a cab!

We had so much fun . It was a really great surprise…

What’s more, our boss agreed to give me a day off today! I never thought that this short-sighted bumpkin was capable of humane actions like this !

So we took the opportunity in full and went to some fancy place by the sea.

What’s on your side? Don’t forget to write back to me…

Love you my little sister

xxx

He is in his mid-30s, well-built and very polite. So polite that it’s creepy. My intuition is definitely trying to tell me something, but I don’t listen. My brains are busy enjoying a deep dive in the warm river of the memories of the last night I spent with Ali.

Okay, it was not even a night… When he called me it was already 3 a.m. He asked me to bring some coke. I got to his place at four. He fucked me crazily, as always, and then didn’t let me stay there, because his parents were visiting him for breakfast. They wanted to check how he was doing with his ‘independent life’, for which they are still paying.

‘Would you like some of this?’ The man shows me a sealed little bag of coke, after bringing us two glasses of whisky. He is just friendly; nothing wrong with that. But when I look at his smiling face my heart sinks – there is something very not right in his eyes.

I try to calm myself down. Alexandra told me that even though I’d never worked with him before he is an old client she’d known for ages.

He sets up a few lines and watches me doing them, still wearing his creepy smile. I rub my nose, but instead of my usual feeling, my hunch gets obsessively bigger. He is weird, fucking weird… Why doesn’t he sniff himself? Or if he doesn’t do drugs why would he have them on him in the first place?