Daughters of the Night Sky

Vanya opened the door to a lovely room, decorated in deep reds and golds. Plush, warm, and inviting as his embrace.

“We’ll go slowly, my darling,” he repeated. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his hard chest. I felt my pulse quicken in response to his touch. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I want to do this with you, Vanyusha. Show me… how.” I’d rebuffed every boy who’d expressed any interest in me for so long, I wasn’t sure how to say yes. I wrapped my arms around his neck, taking all the kisses I’d denied myself for years.

“As my lady wishes,” he agreed, holding me tight in his arms and burying his face in my hair. His hands found the zipper at the back of my dress and lowered it into a pool of turquoise at my waist. With delicate movements of his fingertips, he caressed my arms, my back, and eventually the tops of my breasts, his eyes once again studying mine for any sign of hesitation. The more he touched me, the more I knew I could not refuse myself the pleasure of his embrace.

He freed my breasts from the brassiere I wore several sizes too small to minimize their appearance in my uniform. He took them in his hands, massaging them until I felt myself going limp with pleasure against him. I removed his shirt, longing to feel the warm skin of his muscled chest against my own.

Excited by my boldness, he lowered my dress completely and removed my garter belt and stockings—slowly, as though he were unwrapping a much-anticipated gift on New Year’s Morning. I tried not to tremble as his fingers tucked into the front of my undergarments—my last vestige of modesty—and lowered them to the floor. His eyes scanned every centimeter of me, but I didn’t feel the color of shame rise in me.

“I take it you’re pleased?” I whispered.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his breathing ragged. “I only wish I had my canvas and paints.”

“You’d rather paint?” I asked, finding some bravado in his reaction to my nudity.

“Excellent point,” he chuckled, his hands lowering, gripping my buttocks with his strong fingers, his mouth on mine.

“Vanya,” I said, forcing myself to step back one pace. “We… there can’t be a child.”

“No, not with things as they are,” he said, reaching into his pants pocket and retrieving a small tin with three rolled-up bits of rubber bound in the middle by strips of white paper. “Condoms. They will protect us from a baby.”

I nodded, not fully understanding how they worked, but trusting him to do what was right. He took me in his arms again, and I lost myself in his kisses. He was chiseled and strong, though not hulking with muscle as Stalin’s posters showed the ideal Soviet soldier. He was real, and he was mine. My initial nerves had worn off, and I wondered why I wasn’t shaking, why I didn’t feel the urge to cover myself. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be the first time? Instead it felt as natural as breathing.

We lay on the bed, kissing and caressing for some minutes before his embraces grew less tender and more insistent. I felt him slip the condom over his length before he dipped his fingers into the soft flesh between my legs.

“Please,” I breathed into his chest. “Please.”

He climbed atop me, his kisses never ceasing, and eased himself inside me. I felt an uncomfortable pinching sensation, then relief and pleasure as he filled me. I pulled him closer.

“My God, how I’ve wanted you, Katya,” he said into my hair as he moved gently above me.

“And I you, my Vanya,” I mumbled, memorizing the wonder of him commanding all my senses.

He paused and pulled me on top of him so I could ride him astride. “I want to see you, my love,” he explained, cupping my breasts in his hands and then pulling me closer so he could take my nipple in his mouth. I still felt a tinge of discomfort, yet I shuddered with pleasure as I moved, timid at first, but growing bolder until I felt my muscles tighten around him and spasms of bliss lapping over my body from within.

He groaned beneath me, and I collapsed on his broad chest when I knew he’d taken his pleasure. For a long while I just lay in his arms listening to the cadence of his heartbeat, breathing in the minted perfume of his warm breath, and enjoying the soft glow of his gleaming skin in the dim light.

“Whatever happens, I’m so happy to have this memory to take with me,” he finally whispered.

“As am I,” I said, lifting my head and kissing the soft skin of his cheek. “I don’t want it to end.”

“Nor do I, Katyushka.” He caressed my damp skin with the tips of his fingers, and I melted against him.

“I-I had never…” I felt the heat in my skin as I stammered out my confession of innocence.

“I know. You have given me a precious gift. I am sorry I can’t say you were my first, but you will always be my most dear.”