Confession from the Other Side

Dedicated to my kindred spirit "Spase"...

The characters are fictitious. Any resemblance is considered coincidental.

"Our life does not accept constancy within itself,

And it's easy to say goodbye, only a certain sadness

Occupies a small space in the soul,

If you look down from above on the measured path."

The rock band Mashina Vremeni, from early works.

I parked my Opel Astra in the lot next to the local shopping complex and turned off the engine. I had been driving around the city all afternoon looking for a heater, but hadn't found anything. Fatigue washed over my eyelids and I dozed off. I hadn't slept for two nights in a row, completing

suddenly piled-up overtime work and was completely exhausted. Fighting off the tiredness, I got out of the car and headed towards the store. Going inside and scanning the shelves, I finally found what I needed. On a shelf next to pots and kettles sat an oil-filled heater—what I had been searching for so long.

"How much is it?" I asked the salesgirl in this shabby little housewares shop.

Would you believe it, I drove all over the city, went to all the hardware stores and markets, and found it right under my nose, not far from home. Strange, why didn't I come here first?

"Miss, it's discounted and the only one for sale," answered the young salesgirl.

"And what's the reason?" I asked, putting my car keys in my bag. "Is something wrong with it?"

"No, it's fully functional, only the paint is scratched in one spot. It was the only one like that in the whole batch; it was bought and then returned because of this defect. But it's completely working, the defect is purely cosmetic, and because of that we even discounted it."

"Great, I'll take it," I replied. "What difference does it make where it's scratched, as long as it works. I'll get a can of car paint from the garage and touch it up."

Winter this year had come unusually cold, the frosts hit suddenly, and the heaters that had been gathering dust on the shelves of local markets all summer and fall were instantly sold out. My husband and I lived at the dacha and there was no gas there. The stove heating was poor and I was constantly freezing and had a runny nose. It was the third day I had been looking for this damn heater, and yesterday it wasn't in this store yet.

The salesgirl placed a stool and climbed onto it. She stretched both hands up, reaching for the heater on the top shelf. And my gaze suddenly fixed on the girl. Her smooth, graceful movements, perfectly slender legs in tight warm tights, a wasp waist and straight back. Biting my lip, I silently watched as she handled the heavy appliance. It was clearly difficult for her, but there was so much elusive grace in the movements of her slender figure, as if a ballerina on the stage of a grand theater was performing a complex dance. And I looked at her and couldn't look away. The girl lowered the heavy radiator down and brought a cardboard box. She probably noticed I was looking at her somehow strangely and asked shyly:

"Is something wrong? Is the scratch big?" Her face was covered with a pink blush and beads of sweat, and for me it suddenly became desirable.

And what was it about her? An ordinary girl, like hundreds around. But there was something in her... Elusively tender and attractive.

"No, no, everything's fine, I'm okay with it," I replied and was ready to buy even a completely non-working and defective item, just to talk with her a little longer.

I had been living at the dacha with my alcoholic husband for the second year. I hated him and had been trying to divorce him for the entire second year. His idleness, constant drinking and reproaches had gotten to me completely. The whole time we lived together, he never lifted a finger, didn't hammer a single nail, and never lifted anything heavier than a glass. He was fired from his last job a year ago for drinking on the job, and since then he hadn't even tried to find another job. He drank day after day and always somehow found money for vodka and owed all the neighbors in the area up to his ears. I, however, worked two jobs at once and tried my best to preserve the semblance of a family hearth. I was terribly tired, I wanted to give up on everything and was holding on by my last strength. But after he hit me with his fist and gave me a huge black eye because, in his opinion, I came home too late, I came to hate him. Lately, some change had occurred in me. And I realized it when I tried to get myself a lover. Why not? I thought. After all, in all ideal families, the husband always has a couple of mistresses on the side, well, and the wife has the same—a lover, and sometimes more than one. Or am I wrong? And in my situation, God himself commanded it.

Because of the vodka, my husband hadn't been able to get it up for a long time, and he didn't even need it. The meaning of his life had become alcoholic beverages, well, and what was I supposed to do, go to a monastery? Though, nuns aren't saints either. Men at work, and in general, would stare at me, and it was enough just to let them get close and hint, and that same evening I would have been in the arms of a dashing gentleman. Slender, long-legged, thirty-year-old blonde, I knew everything about myself, that I was good-looking and even beautiful, but it wouldn't always be like this, this time passes and spending the rest of my life with a drunkard was the last thing I wanted. His sickly appearance, haggard face and trembling hands, and sometimes I felt sorry for him, I tried to treat him, had him coded several times, took him to various clinics and dispensaries, but in vain. Finally, I gave up on it, and it was clear that he had definitively traded me for vodka.

But me? What had happened to me? After flirting at work and baring my legs, I finally ended up in bed with a handsome lover and suddenly realized that it hurt and was disgusting, and what he was doing to me suddenly became unacceptable. But there was nothing like that! He fucked me in the usual classic way, well, and then I gave him a blowjob. And besides pain and disgust, I felt nothing. All I wanted most at that moment was for it all to end as quickly as possible. And when it ended, I sighed with relief and didn't start any more affairs with men. I suddenly clearly understood that it wasn't lovers that attracted me, I needed mistresses! And like air. But there just weren't any.

I was literally going crazy over slender girlish figures on the street and even gave signs to some girls I liked, but no one paid any attention to me, and one of them twirled her finger at her temple and said: "Go get treatment!" And gradually, hopelessness and depression were piling up on me. Once I went so far as to wash off all my makeup, cut my hair and nails and changed into men's clothing. And in that guise, I went out on the street. I chased after all skirts and managed to meet a pretty girl. She took me to her place and we talked for a long time. When I dragged her into bed and the truth came out, she jumped out of bed and immediately kicked me out the door, promising as a parting shot that if I, a horny lesbian, tried to harass her again, she would call the police immediately. I left then and cried all night.

Once, sitting in the office at my desk, my gaze accidentally fell on the next desk, where Lyubochka, my co-worker, was sitting, and I noted to myself what slender legs and beautiful knees she had. She was chatting on the phone and paid no attention to me, while I couldn't tear my eyes away from her full thighs and the line of her short skirt. God have mercy, what's wrong with me, huh? And at night in the cold bed, suddenly out of nowhere, this moment for some reason vividly surfaced in my memory and I clearly imagined how I kneel before Lyubochka, how passionately I kiss her legs and rise up, under her skirt, and caress between her legs. And she hugs me and pulls me closer. I penetrate her cave with my tongue and caress the precious pearl of her clitoris. And she moans with excitement and happiness. From just the thought, I treacherously got wet and started masturbating, and came very quickly and intensely. I had fallen in love. Fallen in love with a girl and it was not normal. My husband was sleeping drunk on the other bed and didn't hear how I groaned loudly and cried out.

After that night, I started giving Lyubochka signs of attention, often approached her and as if accidentally touched her face and full breasts. But she didn't notice anything. Once I came to work early and brought a bouquet of scarlet roses. I put them in a vase on Lyubochka's desk. Appearing at her workplace, Lyuba was surprised where such gorgeous flowers came from, she kept glancing around the whole office, trying to solve the mystery. At the end of the workday, she carefully wrapped them in a paper bag and took them with her. I never dared to confess to her that the gift wasn't from an admirer. But soon I was met with deep disappointment. Once after work, as usual, I went to the parking lot and approached my Opel, and suddenly in another foreign car parked nearby, I saw Lyubochka being squeezed and kissed by some young guy, and she was offering him all her intimate places.

They were fucking hotly in the car right in the parking lot, and a wave of burning jealousy flared up in me. I remember barely making it home, violating and crossing the double solid line several times and running red lights, all the while thinking about myself and my misfortune. Well, why am I not like everyone else, what have I done to offend God, why did he make me like this? Or maybe I made myself this way? When, how, in what way? And it's unlikely that's possible. Seems like that's my fate. Right now, I'll rev my diesel up to two hundred and straight into a concrete support, or better yet, into an oncoming Kamaz, to be sure and quick, without suffering. I cried inconsolably all night, cursing my fate and understanding that I wouldn't be able to change myself anymore.

And here I was standing in the store and looking at the salesgirl. And I was again seized by that same exciting feeling that I had previously experienced towards Lyubochka.

"Please help me," the girl asked. "We need to put the heater in the box, I can't do it alone."

"Of course," I replied and approached the girl closely. She smelled of some sexual freshness and something else, so excitingly alluring.

The girl placed the box vertically and we took hold of the heater together, lifting it up and placing it in the cardboard box. At the same time, my hands kept enveloping her delicate fingers, and once my cheek accidentally touched her face. And I again treacherously got wet like a bitch. I caught her gentle breath and barely restrained myself from kissing her on the lips. Finally, the heater was packed and the girl tied it up with twine.

"That will be easier to carry," she said with a sweet smile. "You've turned so red, are you feeling unwell?"

"No, everything's fine, quite the opposite," I mumbled and took out my wallet.

After paying and leaving her the change, I picked up the heater and headed for the exit.

"Wait," I heard her voice from behind.

I stopped and turned around. The girl was looking at me and smiling mysteriously.

"I think you wanted to tell me something," she suddenly said out of the blue.

"I don't know," I replied, and my tongue seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth. Right now was exactly the time to say something to her, but I was silent. I was afraid to tell her that I liked her and I wanted her, because she would send me to a psychiatrist, or tell me to fuck off, and she'd be right, and I didn't want to step on the same rake as in previous times. In the little shop, besides us, there was no one, and the girl came out from behind the counter and approached me.

"Has no one told you that you're beautiful?" she suddenly asked—and reaching out her hand to me, she ran her palm over my cheek, and her thumb stroked my lips.

From this light and, probably, indecent touch, I shuddered as if from an electric shock and my whole body was pierced by blissful passion. I took a deep breath and said as if in a fog:

"Yes, they have."

"Probably men said it," she uttered. "And girls haven't?"

"No," I replied, blushing deeply. "You're the first to say it; all the others either sent me away or insulted me."

"And do you like me?" she asked again, subtly switching to the informal 'you'.

And I answered:

"Yes, I like you. But how did you know, how did you understand?"

"What's your name?" she asked again, ignoring my question.

"My name is Larisa," I answered honestly.

"And I'm Nastya. From a distance, it's obvious that you like girls. It's written on your face and you blush like a schoolgirl. That's healthy. You're so sexy!"

"And do you like me?" I asked. "Do you also need girls instead of guys?"

"Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have started this conversation."

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"Is it warm in your car?"

"Yes. I can even make it hot."

"Then let's go."

The girl helped me carry the box with the heater outside and locked the store with a key. Then she helped me carry the heater to the car and put it in the trunk. We got inside, I started the engine and turned the climate control to full heat for the cabin. I glanced at Nastya. She was looking directly into my eyes openly. She really is so beautiful.

"Let's drive somewhere where there's no one," I said.

"Do as you think best," she replied.

Turning the car around, I drove onto the road and after some time parked in a deserted, at this time of year, forest park area. I looked at the girl again.

"What now?" I asked with excitement.

"Kiss me," Nastya requested quietly and moved closer.

Catching her hot breath again, I melted. My lips of their own accord approached the girl's lips and merged in a long and passionate kiss. Finding a button, I pushed the seatback back and we fell onto the improvised sofa. Nastya, without taking her lips from mine, slipped her hand under my sweater and caressed my breast. And a jolt of bliss made me yield towards her. Then her hand went down and slipped under my tights and thin panties. Delicate girlish fingers stroked me between my legs and I moaned. Bliss washed over me in powerful waves and I felt how those fingers penetrated inside and persistently stroked my clitoris. A crimson veil clouded my eyes and between my legs everything instantly became wet.

I was breathless with happiness and felt how the girl's lips gradually descended to my womb. Hot kisses slowly covered my stomach and below the navel, and then pressed against my labia. I moved forward to meet the caresses and moaned with happiness. Closing my eyes, I breathed heavily and hugged Nastya tightly, pressing her to me. Never, with any man, had I felt so good. And even if I'm not like everyone else, and women's legs, and slender girlish figures, their delicate, tender faces affect me like a red rag to a bull, I realized it too late, but right now I had found my love and I wouldn't back away from it for anything. And if it comes to that, I'm ready to die for this love. Throwing my leg over Nastya's back, I moved rhythmically in time with her caresses and felt that here it was, the long-awaited orgasm was finally approaching. I felt its impending enormous power and trembled. Shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind, I moaned languidly, forgetting about everything in the world. The unseen power of the orgasm that overwhelmed me exploded in my head with myriads of multicol