One with the Wind (14 page)

            Her name was Madame Tsvetkov. Josie discovered the woman’s erotic teachings in the classifieds of a Moscow newspaper and invited Marta. The classes were specially designed to truly pleasure a man. Madame Tsvetkov taught the novice to become an expert handler. Josie had handled Nick nearly every day and although she didn’t think herself an expert, she did have experience in the area. Now she wanted to learn how to send Nick into extreme orgasmic bliss.

            Josie and Marta caught the bus to Madame Tsvetkov’s. While Josie thought about how the lesson would work, Marta was nervous. “What do you think this woman’s going to teach us?” asked Marta.

            “Hand jobs, blowjobs, maybe different sexual positions, I don’t know. Can’t wait to find out,” replied Josie.

            “And this will get Oleg to marry me?” questioned Marta.

            “It’s what my husband said. There are three reasons a man marries a woman—money, pregnancy, and sex,” replied Josie.

            “Your husband also said he was from the future,” joked Marta.

            “He also told me he married me because of sex; he wanted me in his bed every night. You attract men with beauty, hold onto them with sex.”

            Marta collapsed against the bus seat and sighed. “You have a point.”

            “Whatever it is; it should be fun,” said Josie.

             Madame Tsvetkov’s students were required to bring dildos to the class for practice aids; surely they would not be able to practice on actual penises. Madame Tsvetkov looked exactly the way Josie had imagined. She had flowing jet black hair, creamy skin, and she wore a low cut silk kimono dress. Josie thought she had an air of sensuality about her.

            “They say she was an escort to some of the most powerful men in Russia—politicians, and generals,” Josie whispered to Marta.

            “Hush!” scolded Madame Tsvetkov. “Only one person speaks and that is me.”

            The girls gathered around Madame Tsvetkov with their dildos placed before them on the floor. Many of the girls, including Josie, tried to swallow their sniggers at the comical scene—a circle of dildos of every color and every size. Some chose black, others chose long and thick, there was blue ones, pink ones, purple ones, ones the vibrated, and others that didn’t. Josie took a long time choosing her dildo. It was flesh colored and not too long and not too thick; it was just right.

            “Place your open palms at the base of the shaft and slowly rub in a rhythmic, circular motion like this,” Madame Tsvetkov demonstrated. All the girls watched and imitated the motion, occasionally letting out a giggle. “I’m sure your partner will not appreciate your snickers as you play with his penis.”

            Josie could hardly contain herself from bursting out laughing.
You don’t know my husband
.

            “Continue the same motion and work your hands upward until you reach the head. Repeat each time varying your speed and pressure,” said Madame Tsvetkov.

            Josie leaned over and worked her fleshy dildo. It was hard to gauge her success on a lifeless object, but she certainly would not doubt Madame.

            “Now with one hand, hold the shaft and rotate up and down in a circular motion increasing speed and pressure throughout.” Madame Tsvetkov looked around at the girls. “Now I see some of you have testicles on your dildos, remember not to disregard. As you attend to the penis, you must also attend to the testicles. And if you really want to finish in a grand finale, stick you index finger about one inch up the anus and press gently. This is a man’s G-spot.”

            Josie fell back on her knees with reflection. And all this time she was missing that spot.
I can’t believe I missed it
.

 

            That evening, Josie decided to practice her new skills on Nick. She decorated their apartment like a boudoir, bought herself a lace up bustier, crotchless panties, fishnets, and heels.
This time, I will try not to hit him in the face
, she thought, remembering their prom night incident. She tucked her long blonde hair into a jet black wig and painted herself with makeup. Dinner was simple, wine and delicate finger foods—olives, cheese, caviar and crackers.

            Nick buried his head in his newspaper on the train home from work. At his stop, he placed the newspaper under his arm and casually headed down the street and up the stairwell of his building. He opened the door and looked around, feeling confused. “Jo?”

            The door closed behind him and Josie presented herself to him. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked in an angry tone.

            “I wanted to surprise you,” she said, suddenly self-conscious in her dominatrix attire.

            Nick grabbed her forcefully and pulled her too him. He ripped off her black wig and let her long blonde hair loose from the netting. “My wife is a blonde, a luscious blonde. I only make love to my wife,” he said and kissed her face and neck.

            He hoisted her off the ground and dropped her on the bed. He held her down with one hand and tore off her bustier with the other. He lowered his face to her breasts and sucked her nipples.

            “Sweetheart,” she said, trying to push away, “this isn’t what I had planned.”

            Rubbing and squeezing her breasts he ran his tongue down her belly and inserted it in her belly button. “Nick!” she pleaded, but it was no use. By the time is tongue licked the inside of her labia, she had given up.

            He spread her legs until they could go no wider and moved his head between her legs. He rotated his tongue around her wet clitoris at the same time attempting to relieve his erection from the confines of his trousers. Nick teased her swollen clitoris with the head of his penis. Josie wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him so he could enter her.

            She squeezed his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin. “Nick!” she cried out as he rocked her body against his. Josie could feel her orgasm building and she knew it was going to be big. The big ones always scared her; she never liked the feeling of losing absolute control of her body. Her legs started to shake, she felt the wave curl up from her sex, and into her chest.  She let out a bellowing scream as her body tensed in rapture.

            Nick dropped next to her and panted. Josie wiped the sweat from her brew and said, “This isn’t what I had planned.”

            Nick laughed, trying to catch his breath. “That’s your problem; you’re always making plans. Gotta let it roll, sweetheart.”

 

            Later in the evening, Nick relaxed in bed and drank the vodka, and ate the caviar and crackers. Josie kneeled before him and squirted musk scented oil on his chest. She slowly massaged the oil into his neck, chest, and down to his abs.

            “Oh no, more oil? Haven’t we learned the last time,” he joked.

            “Shut up and let me pleasure you,” she scolded.

            “What are you doing to me?”

            Josie looked up at him and smiled. She massaged oil over his belly and through his pubic hair until she reached the shaft of his penis.

            “Oh good.” He lay back and placed his hands behind his head. He teased her, wiggling his erect penis.

            She sat back and sighed. “Will you stop and just let me do this?”

            “Sweetheart, it’s not like you haven’t given me a hand job before,” he said casually.

            With full concentration and her hands saturated with the musk oil she started at the base of his penis and rhythmically rubbed his shaft up and down as Madame Tsvetkov instructed. When she didn’t hear any sound from Nick, she glanced over at him. His eyes were slanted and his lips were slightly parted. She could tell it was working so she continued. With one hand she rotated and swirled her fingers around his penis, while the other gently rubbed and squeezed his testicles.

            Nick exhaled deeply and slid his weight downward. As she continued, his moans increased and his legs spread further, and with that she dared to go where she hadn’t before. She traced the outer perimeter of his anus and looked up at him for a response. It didn’t matter; she could do anything to him now. Slowly she inserted her finger and felt around for his G-spot. His legs started shaking and threw his hips violently upward. “Fuck!” Nick sat up and tensed as his body climaxed hard.

            Josie reached for a tissue to clean her hand and his body. She leaned forward and kissed his face. “How was that?”

            He stared at her blankly and cried out, “Fuck! What the hell was that?”

            “You told me I should take classes. Marta and I took a class in pleasing your man. Madame Tsvetkov is her name. Apparently she has got it on with many in the KGB.”

            Nick panted and took a deep breath. “And here I thought you were reading books like Doctor Zhivago and Anna Karenina.”

            She spread caviar on a cracker and inserted it gently in his mouth. “Oh no, you are my favorite subject.”

 

            Several months later, Josie dabbed at the tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched Marta walk down the aisle toward her groom, Oleg. She didn’t know if it was Nick’s advice, or whether Oleg and Marta’s time had just come naturally, but she was happy for her dear Russian friend.

            Oleg choked back the tears as he watched his stunning wife-to-be walk toward him. Josie gave up on trying not to cry and let her eyes water. She never had the opportunity to be beautiful in a white gown and she never got to see a teary-eyed expression on Nick’s face.
How would he have reacted seeing me walk down the aisle? Would he have cried like Oleg? I will never know.
Nick put his arm around Josie’s shoulder to comfort her and it helped a little.

            After the ornate Orthodox ceremony, a reception was held outside a large farmhouse on the outskirts of Kolomna, where Marta was raised. The reception reminded Josie of the Markovich’s festivities. There was live music, adults and children dancing without a care, and plenty of food and alcohol for all. There were so many people at the reception, Josie thought the whole town must have been invited.

            As Nick swung Josie around the dance floor, she mourned not having her own marriage celebration. She knew that eloping was her story, but she let herself imagine what a white wedding would have been like.

            When the music slowed, Nick held Josie tightly in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing, it’s just a beautiful ceremony,” she said.

            “Do you miss not having a wedding and reception?” he asked.

            She loved him so much. She wanted to shout it to the entire world; she wanted to celebrate it with music and dancing. “No,” she lied.

            Holding her closely in his arms, he knew.

            The room was spinning and Josie’s stomach was churning. She could not imagine feeling so ill. Glancing at the clock, it was only four in the morning.
I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through this
, she thought as she climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

            Although clinging to the cold porcelain bowl helped, she could not vomit no matter how hard she tried.  She leaned against the wall and sighed.
Damn it!
And then the idea came to her
;
she was desperate.

            She tip-toed back to bed, finding Nick asleep on his side. Gently she rolled him onto his back and massaged his penis until it was hard. He shifted and moaned, but did not wake up. Despite her severe nausea she leaned over and sucked his penis.

            Nick opened his eyes and looked down at her. “What are you doing?”

            Josie nodded him off, not wanting him to interrupt her. Nick squirmed and rested his head on the pillow, enjoying the surprise early morning pleasure. When he came, Josie swallowed his semen and lay beside him, focusing on the feeling in her stomach.

            “Jill Stanislaw said semen helps with morning sickness.”

             “Who’s Jill Stanislaw?”

            “From high school, remember.”

            “So that’s it, you sucked me off so you could feel better?” he questioned angrily.

            “Why are you upset? You enjoyed it and hopefully your juice will make my stomach feel better.”

            “My juice! Next you’re going to want me to jerk off into a jar so you can stir it in your morning tea!” he exclaimed.

            “You’d do that for me?” Josie asked lovingly.

            “No! My staff of life is not a commodity. It is not to be used as a condiment for tea, or other beverages!” He threw the blanket over his shoulder and turned on his side.

            Josie laughed out loud. She didn’t know if it was Nick’s reaction or his semen, but she did actually feel a little better. She turned on her side and wrapped her arms around his body. “I love you, sweetie—semen and all.” She giggled. “You know they do use semen to cook. Maybe I can make us a spiced pound cake.”

            “Now you’re just being silly. My man juice is not to be used for baking.”

            “Honey, your man juice has been wasted in a lot of tissues and besides, this is for a much better cause—your wife’s well-being. Think of the cranky bitch I would be without it.”

            Nick rolled his eyes, refusing to be taken by her rationalism. “Whatever,” he said and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

            Josie curled up alongside him, continuing to chuckle. She did really feel better.

 

               Several months later, Josie wiped the frost away from her apartment window and stared at Gorky Park. The park was covered in snow and looked like a scene from a fairytale. She sipped her tea and smiled as the steam tickled her nose. She had never imagined feeling so sublimely happy.