I’m not a writer, but I also want to tell you a story. It happened last fall.
I’ll try not to be too clumsy, although that’s where it’s going.
I’ll make a reservation right away โ I wasn’t going to do anything like that. It wasn’t even in my head. It just happened that way.
My name is Julia, my husband is Pavel, we are thirtyโtwo, we have been married for seven years. We live in a two-bedroom apartment that we took out on a mortgage, just like people. Pavel is a solid, calm, reliable man. Maybe too calm sometimes. But I’m not complaining, I’m like that myself โ I don’t like swings.
Pavel has a younger brother Denis. He’s twenty-four. I’ve known him since we started dating, he was still a schoolboy, thin, pimply, he was always wearing headphones and staring at the phone. We didn’t really communicate โ well, my husband’s brother, well, comes for the holidays, eats olivier, leaves. Nothing like that.
Denis lived in another city, studied, and then worked. And then there was a reduction at work, he decided to move to us, to St. Petersburg, to look for a new one. Pavel said let him stay for a couple of weeks until he finds a place to live. I didn’t mind. The two-piece, of course, is not made of rubber, but you can sleep on the couch in the hall.
Denis arrived at the end of September, with only one backpack and a bag. I didn’t recognize him right awayโhe got taller, bulged in the shoulders, and grew a beard. Not the pimply kid anymore. The voice is low, calm. His hands were big, and with those hands he seemed even older than his years.
Everything was fine for the first few days. Denis left in the morning for interviews, returned in the evening, the three of us had dinner, watched something on TV, he talked about his interviews, about how everyone in St. Petersburg was a show-off, I laughed. Pavel slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Don’t fuck off, bro, we’ll break through.”
And then Pavel was sent on a business trip. For ten days. To Moscow, for some kind of training, I don’t remember exactly. I saw him off at the airport on Sunday evening, returned home, and there Denis was sitting in the kitchen drinking tea.
“Well,” he says, “it’s just the two of us.
I say they stayed. And she went into the room. I don’t even know why it seemed awkward to me. I didn’t say anything like that. But it sounded so strange.
Monday and Tuesday passed normally. I work from home, he left for his interviews, came back late. We hardly ever crossed paths. Well, we had coffee together in the morning, and I was already asleep when he came in the evening.
And on Wednesday, he returned early. About six o’clock. I had just finished my work, and I was sitting in the hall with my laptop, finishing my report. He came in, took off his jacket, said it was a bummer today, they refused.
I say, well, sometimes it’s not the last place on earth.
He nodded, went into the kitchen, and returned with a bottle of wine. Red, dry. I didn’t even notice when he bought it.
โWill you?” “He’s asking.”
I’m saying Wednesday, actually.
“So what?” I have a bummer. Your husband is gone. Occasion.
I laughed. Well, it’s true that I won’t drink wine or something. I put down my laptop and went to get some glasses. I took out the cheese, grapes, and something else in the fridge.
We were sitting in the kitchen, drinking wine, talking. First, about the job, about his interviews. Then about Pavel. Denis told me how they fought as children, and how Pavel constantly took care of him, even though there was only a six-year difference. He said, you know, I’ve been under his shadow all my life. He’s the eldest, he’s the right one, he does everything right. But I can’t do that.
I’m saying you’re not under the shadow. You’re just different.
He looked at me like that. I don’t understand how. And she says you’re the first one who told me that.
I didn’t know what to say. She sipped her wine. It’s the second glass, maybe the third. There was a little noise in my head, it felt good.
He started talking about the girl he broke up with before moving in. She says she wanted me to be like Pavel. Reliable, with a plan, with an apartment. And I’m not like that. I do not know what I want. I’m just living.
I say it’s okay. At twenty-four, no one knows.
“Did you know?” “He’s asking.”
I thought about it. I say no, probably not. I just met Pavel and everything kind of started rolling on its own. Wedding, mortgage, job. I didn’t choose, it just happened.
“And you’re happy?”
That’s the question. Straight. I didn’t know what to say. Well, I’m happy. Probably. That’s what I said, probably.
He finished his wine and poured another glass. To yourself and to me. I didn’t refuse.
Then we went into the living room, because the kitchen got cold from the window. We sat down on the sofa, I tucked my legs under me, he was next to me, but not close. I didn’t turn on the TV. We just sat and talked. About all sorts of nonsense. About music, about movies. He said that he writes sometimes, but doesn’t show it to anyone. I say show me. He says no, I won’t. I say, well, that’s fine.
And at some point we fell silent. They just sat there in silence. I was looking at the wall, and he was looking at the floor. And I felt that something was about to happen. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just that the air has changed.
He turned to me. I turned to him. And we looked at each other. Long. Five seconds, maybe ten. I could get up and leave. I could have said, okay, I’m going to sleep. But she didn’t get up.
He bent down and kissed me.
Not rude, not greedy. Gently, gently. As if he was asking, may I? I didn’t pull away. I replied. She didn’t understand how.
We kissed for a long time. On the couch, then he knocked me down, I ended up on my back, he was on top of me. His hands were everywhere. Under my T-shirt, under my pants. I touched him too. I could feel his cock through his jeans. Big. I was even surprised.
He took off my T-shirt and bra. He began to kiss her breasts and stomach. I went lower. He pulled down his pants along with his underpants. I was lying naked on the couch, and he was between my legs. And all I could think was, God, what am I doing?
But she didn’t stop.
He started licking me. Long, slow. Straight licking. Tongue on the lips, on the clitoris. I moaned, even though I was trying to hold back. Neighbors, all that. But I didn’t care. He did it in a way that Paul had never done before. Slowly. It was as if he enjoyed the activity itself rather than the result.
I came for the first time almost immediately. He didn’t stop. He continued. I finished the second one. My legs were already shaking.
Then he got up and took off his jeans. His penis stood powerfully, strong, slightly bent upwards. I looked at him and thought, my God, this is my husband’s brother. And then I don’t care.
He did not enter immediately. Slowly, as if he was letting me get used to the size. I was wet, so I got in easily. And he started moving. Slow at first, then faster. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him to me. He kissed me on the neck, on the lips. He was whispering something I couldn’t make out. It hit me.
We fucked on the couch, then on the floor, then he put me on cancer and entered from behind. I buried my face in the pillow and just took it. He was slapping my ass, not hard, but hard. I was waving.
Then he sat on the couch and put me on top of him. I planted myself on his trunk and started moving on my own. He was looking up at me, holding my hips. He said you were so beautiful. I didn’t answer, I just moved.
He came inside me. I didn’t even think about a condom. It’s just that at some point he moaned, jerked, and I felt his cock throbbing inside. It’s so warm. I stayed on top of him until he went limp.
Then we went to the shower. Together. There I took it in his mouth. Myself. He leaned against the wall and groaned. He came a second time on my chest. I washed it off.
We didn’t go into the bedroom. I lay down on the sofa, and he was on the floor, on the mattress we had laid out for him. I could hear him breathing. And I thought tomorrow would be tomorrow.
I woke up earlier this morning. I looked at him โ he was asleep, his mouth was slightly open, his hair was disheveled. And I felt this… I don’t even know. No shame. It’s just a strange feeling.
I made coffee. He woke up and came to the kitchen. He sat down opposite. He was silent.
I say good morning.
He says good morning.
And everything. No explanation. No “what have we done”. Just coffee.
In the afternoon, he left for another interview. I came back in the evening and they took it. He’s so joyful. We had dinner as if nothing had happened. And then we went to bed. He’s on the couch. I’m going to the bedroom.
But I couldn’t stand it last night. I came to him. He wasn’t sleeping. I lay down next to him. And it all happened again.
It went on like this all the days. During the day, it’s an ordinary life. In the evening โ wine, conversations, sex. Sometimes twice. Sometimes three times. I didn’t count.
He left the day before Pavel’s return. I found an apartment, rented a room. I packed my things and said goodbye. He kissed her on the cheek. He said thank you.
I say, for what?
He says for everything.
And he left.
Pavel returned. He brought me perfume from duty-free. Hugged, kissed. He said he missed you. I told you I missed you too. And it was true. I missed.
Denis sometimes calls Pavel. They chat about work, about football. I pick up the phone when Pavel is busy. I say hello, how are you. He says it’s fine. And everything.
We don’t remember. Never. It’s like it never happened.
Sometimes I lie next to Pavel at night, look at the ceiling and think โ how is this possible?
But then I remember his hands. His tongue. How he entered me. And I know it was incredibly cool.
I don’t regret it. I’m not proud. It just happened.