"THE FADING OF A RUSSIAN PRINCE"---"The Defection" Part 6 ---"Homesick"...

[IndigoRose]

 "Even the smoke of our Homeland is sweet and pleasant to us."

                                           ---Alexander Pushkin.

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 I  was singing and dancing a LOT after that night when we rolled up the livingroom rug.  Rachel let  me have  free access to her extensive collection of Rock & Roll.

I shook my head and flung my arms in the air.  My feet seemed to have a life of their own,  like they did whenever I was captured by any Music :

"Born to be   WI- I- LD  !!!..." ...

"Wild Thing,  I think I LOVE YOU !!!...   Dum, dum. da-da. da. DUM-DUM !!! ..."...

Jumpin'  Jack Flash is a GAS,  GAS,  GAS !!! ..."...

:GOOD-BYE,  Ruby Tuesday, !!!..." ...

I WAS INTOXICATED !!! ---

MY, GOD !  It was the  Most Heart-Throbbing Music ever created !!!  Sure I'd heard it  "underground" in Russia,  but I'd never felt it like this!  I loved it !  LOVED IT !!!   E-YOW !!!...

And,  the Beatles---

"Back in the U.S.S. R. !

Oh,  how lucky we are,

BACK IN THE U.S.S.R.  !!! "  : 

That  Beatles song brought my thoughts instantly  back to my wife  Anna and my good-high mood collapsed... 

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"Yeah,  SURE,  ---"Back in the U.S.S.R. ",,, , as Rachel would say, --- "S -  U - R - E   ..."

The Areoflot jet  holding  Anna stayed parked on the tarmac of Kennedy Airport for seventy-three hours before it was determined beyond a doubt by the American State Department and the Representatives of the Soviet Union that it was her own free- will wish to return to Russia. 

She had done nothing  iIlegal.  The United States could not keep her.  Perhaps,  the K.G.B. had finally made up her mind for her.

In any case,  I was there when the plane  finally  pulled away.  Her  little face appeared briefly in the planes's window high above me,  her palms pressed against the glass.   The plane roared off the runway  leaving me looking up into the sky.  I never saw her again.

When she arrived in  back in Russia the Soviet Union praised and praised her for her stand,  her loyalty to the State.  I,  on the other hand,  was not even mentioned, as if I never existed. 

I tried and tried to get her out  of  Russia,  but  It was hopeless.

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 Ilya  was very quiet  after his wife returned to Russia.  He seemed heart-broken. I think it wasn't just that he missed her.  Russia was like a slammed door to him and he missed it terribly.  He walked around like a tall golden shadow.  At times,  the look of anguish on his face went right through me.  I couldn't stand his silent suffering.

Finally,  I went very early to his room.  It was four-thirty in the morning,  not even light yet.   I am a "morning person"  anyway.    I was  fully awake.  Sleep was over for me  early last  night.   I had seen Sasha's eyes fill with tears that dropped on his hands as he sat watching T.V  with our  family. 

 The whole house was quiet now.  I didn't knock,  but  opened  the door to his room.  The light was on.  He was awake  lying on his stomach on the bed.  He pushed himself up on his elbows and gazed at me impassively.

"Hello,  Angel moy, " he said dully.

I put the glasses of tea I had been carrying on the bedside table.

"Do you want to talk ?",  I asked.

"What about ?"

"Anything,"

Sasha sighed.  "I am not wanting to be sad,  but I am."

I smiled; "You are just in a Blue Funk  because of your wife."

"Yes,  then I am thinking of other sad things.  I feel I may not  be seeing  my family again,  my mother,  Olga Nikolaievna  Romanova,  my brother Dimitri Konstantinovich,  my nieces. "

"Don't dwell on it,"  I replied.  "Wait a minute !  Did  you say your mother's last name is Romanova,  as in "Romanov",  the last Russian Tsar ? !  "

He grinned;  "Yes,  my mother Olga Nickolaievna Romanova... It is annoyance  to Government of Socialist  Soviet   to be "Romanov",  ---"Old People".   But,  my family,---we are very proud to be of  famous,  Imperial family. And,  we are also,---ah,  um-mmm...  Help me,  Rachel..." 

He made his eyes slant with his fingers.  He laughed. 

I looked at him,  laughing too;  "Oh,---O.K..--- Tartar ?..."

He shook his head; "Other  word..."

I thought a moment ;  "Mongol ?..."

Sasha pointed to his nose,  then to me;  "On the nose,---"Mongol",---yes !  And,  my last name "Golitsyn"  is too  name of  Princes and Princesses. "

"Ah,  ---so that is why the newspapers are calling you the "Russian Prince". 

He smiled again;  "Yes.  But,  my family,  as much as I am knowing of  it,  is small.  My father goes away when I am only two. Then,  when my older brother Dimitri is sixteen, ---SURPRISE !   He gets a letter from  lost father !  I think maybe I get one too when I am sixteen,--- but,   no...    I am not understanding why he left. "  He frowned.  "We were not so bad,  ---nice.  And,   my mother is sweet and beautiful."

I shrugged and kissed  him,  thinking immediately how good  his warm,  lean cheek  felt,   

He looked at me pointedly and a small smile touched his lips.  He rubbed his forehead,  then continued; " I fear to be falling into kidnap by K.G.B. "

I don't think that will happen."

He laughed,  bitterly;  "You think no." 

I shook my head;  "No,  Ilya,  you are not a Nobody.  If you disappeared suddenly,  it would cause a stink.

He frowned;  then smiled;  "A large smell ?"

I laughed;  "Yeah,  it's an American expression  meaning a lot of trouble..."

"Sure...";  he looked relieved.   He smiled.  "You are too,  too  sweet,  Rachel."

"And,  your english,  Ilya,  is improving."  I laughed;  he grinned.

"Yes,  I am  living  with  American family,  so  is natural.  And,  I watch   T.V.   Is  good way to learn english,  I  am  thinking. "

"True,  true..."  I smiled;  "American english,  anyway."  He grinned  again.

Then he flopped down on the bed,  once more   on his elbows,  reaching for a glass of tea.  I learned that Russians prefer to drink  hot  tea in glasses rather than cups or mugs.  I guess they liked  to warm their fingers.  Russian winters are usually bitterly cold.  He laughed when I said that I heard that Russia is called  Icicle-Land.

"Yes,  is very,  very cold in Winter,  most places,  but very,  very beautiful.  His  aqua eyes were sparkiling.  "Is so  beauty.  Winter is too like  sugar.  Snow is not melting,  piles  up against house,  clean,  sparkling in Sun.  Big icicles thick like small towers...  "  He showed a cicle with his hands. 

"And,  Spring  so longed for, so bright  of  flowers---red,  blue,  yellow,  orange, ---   sway in wind.  And,  birch forests,  white trees,  bright green leaves,  rustle back,   forth..."  He made a swishing sound,  pursing his  pink mouth.  I kissed him on it.

He looked surprised;  then kissed me back.  I looked down,  pounding my fists gently on my lap.  Then,  i looked up into his aqua  eyes.

"You are the most tempting man,"   I whispered.  "But,  I have been very,  very good,  Ilya.  Still,  I want you so badly  I ache from it."

"You are very sexy,  Rachel ."

""And  you're not sexy ?  You are one to talk !'

He  chuckled.  "It was not blaming.  Was,--- ah,...  compliment."

"Oh."

He rotated his shoulders slowly,  one after the other.  God,  it drove me wild to see the  flow of muscles under his smooth fair skin !

Alexander  ! ---,  I almost screamed  in frustration.  But,  I am smart.  And  sure, ...conniving,  when I want something or someone.

"I am stiff",  he admitted.  "I being  holding my body nervous, muscles  all cramped. "

Was he asking for a massage?   Well,  I would  oblidge him. 

"Lay down';  I   pushed him gently flat on the bed.  He turned his  head to one side.  I was wearing a pink satin nightgown.  I unbuttoned it's long sleeves and began stroking him softly from nape to the small of his back. 

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes.  I couldn't help it.  I kissed his eyelids,  feeling the thick,  blond  lashes tickle my lips.  I ran my hands again and again through his soft hair.  He sighed once more  and I felt the tension  beginning  to go out  of his muscles.  Soon,  he was well relaxed,  his fingers curled beside his head.

I pulled the satin sleeves of my gown over my hands and started to smooth him with them. 

"What is ?",  he whispered. 

"The satin sleeves of my gown."

"It is feeling  good."

I removed the sheet from his legs.  I stroked;  then kissed him all over.  His skin was very faintly fragrant,  as if he had showered late last night.  Umm-mm,  Ilya,...  I can't resist.  Why should I ?

I turned him over.  There was a slight  silly smile on his face.  He was almost asleep,  maybe.   I wanted to give to him pleasure,  to maybe help the hurt in his eyes. 

 I contined  caressing him.  I spread his legs  and touched his balls.   He  opened his eyes.  They were  slits of bright blue-green.  He let me.  He thrust his fingers through my loose  hair.  When I was finished I went to get a warm washcloth from the bathroom  to clean him. 

When I got back he was on his side.  I ran my hand over  his tight  little butt,  paying special attention to the muscular hollows at the sides.   He smiled,  softly. 

 I gathered him against me.  He was a warm wisk  curved against me like a comma. . I kissed the hollow of his throat,  feeling the pulse there beating strong and slow.  I kissed his nipples,  tender,  and perfectly  round. 

I gently traced his exquisite high cheekbones with my fingertips;  "Mongol, ---huh  ?  So,  that's where this beautiful bone-structure comes from."

He closed his eyes as I touched his eyelashes.  I went on;  "Your beautiful bones will stand out more as you get older, my gorgeous Russian Prince..."

He sighed,  deeply.  Ilya was very relaxed,  getting sleeply.  I slid my hand over his chest,  massaging.   I held him a while.  Then,  I went downstairs for a bowl of granola and milk.

I was standing at the window  with a cup of coffee when  Ilya came up behind me,  cupping my breasts in  his  hands,  nuzzling my neck.  He whispered in my ear that mine were the most beautiful  he had ever seen. 

His voice was husky;  "Devochka  Moya,  kakoye  shastye  chto  tee u  menya  yest !   Ya  skhazshu  potebe  suma !   Ya  dastanu  tebe  zvyozdee  snebes ! "

Then  he  made me come just by caressing my breasts,  by rolling the nipples between his fingers.  Slowly,  so slowly,  he entered me,  pulling me up and back against him,  rocking me to him,  his fingers splayed against my abdomen in front.  I was  being  held   very  firmly  against   the tops  his  hard-hard,  powerfully defined dancer's thighs.  I couldn't have escaped,  even if  I had wanted to. I didn't know he was so strong.

"Oh,  Ilyaaaaaaaa  ! "

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After that  he  was no longer  so  morose.  He laughed and smiled freely.  Sometimes,  I could see my mother looking at us.  From all appearances  we were friends only. 

REALLY ?... I saw Mom's eyebrows raise as she gazed at us.  She HAS eyes !  Ilya is a Knock-Out.  And,  I am young and nubile.  HA !...   Mom is subtle and complex.  Unlike my Dad  who is a  simple,  soft-hearted  man who would probably not be aware of the   deep  undercurrents  flowing  between  Ilya  and  me,  --- PROBABLY...

Even if Dad did figure it out.  He loved Ilya like a son... Yeah,  keep telling yourself that,  Rachel... 

Anyway,  Mom said nothing. 

---Copyright 2009 by Suzanne La Force.