Margot's Confession
A story that perhaps never really happened at all. Of course, all characters are fictional, and any resemblance is purely coincidental. Or perhaps it did happen.
In this world, love is the adornment of people,
To be deprived of love is to be without friends.
He whose heart has not clung to the wine of love,
He is a donkey, even if he doesn't wear donkey's ears!
O. Khayyam.
The alarm clock rang for the umpteenth time, and I struggled to peel my eyes open. Oh damn! I overslept again. Jumping over my snoring husband, I hopped my way to the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth hastily. And again, the same dream surfaces, repeating with manic regularity.
Winter.
New Year's. We have a corporate buffet followed by the start of the New Year holidays. But I'm no longer at the festive table and I can't drink. I'm behind the wheel. We're in the courtyard near the ramp, having a snowball fight. Laughter is everywhere. A champagne bottle popped somewhere nearby. A young male nurse hits me with a snowball and, taken by surprise, I slip and fall into the snow. It's harder to keep balance on stilettos. He immediately runs over, apologizes, and offers his hand. He helps me to my feet and opposite me is his face, glowing with a fresh blush. He looks at me and suddenly leans in with his lips. He wants to kiss me. And to hell with it. Let him kiss. It's a holiday, after all. And I allow him to touch my lips and suddenly I see before me not the boy-student anymore. Instead, for some reason, it's Margo, and she's kissing me passionately on the lips and neck. She's beautiful, this Margo, and she confesses her love to me. And me? What about me? And I—I respond to her caresses and kisses and tell her the same thing! That's where it all ends and I wake up. Always at the same exact point. I don't know the continuation. It simply doesn't happen. It's enough to drive you crazy. It's uncomfortable and wet between my legs, and I'll have to change my panties again.Alright, off to work.
... The five-minute morning briefing ended and I stood up, about to start my rounds, but the head of the department stopped everyone with a gesture:
— We have one more item. Who will attend the conference on transient ischemic attacks on Wednesday. Who is off shift?
— Belskaya and Vladova — said the bitch of a head nurse, and the department head immediately concluded:
— Right, you're both here, understood? At twelve sharp in the conference hall on Sadovaya, and then you'll brief us all on the lecture's content.
I made a hesitant attempt to get out of it:
— Evgeny Mikhailovich, my car is in the shop, how am I supposed to get there through all the traffic?
— Like all normal people, Belskaya, on the tram, and I believe Dr. Vladova's car is running. Margarita Anatolyevna, am I right?
— You are, it's running — Margo sighed.
Well, there went my plans for Wednesday. That's at least an hour there, two hours there, and an hour back. Damn this job along with the department head and that bitch of a head nurse, may they burst. Nevertheless, I'll have to go. And I promised my husband I'd go on a picnic out of town with his friends. Well, I guess I went. I knew there would be a fight with him now, but work is work, and professional development hasn't been canceled. I arranged with Margo that she'd pick me up around eleven and we'd head to this damn conference in her car.
I had been working as a therapist at the central hospital for three years after my residency and was in good standing. And I had no intention of getting on any blacklists. I knew I wouldn't find a better place anywhere else, and although my salary, to put it mildly, didn't satisfy me, I clearly understood that I wouldn't earn more anywhere else anyway. No, of course, I could have gone and worked as a prostitute on the street, but that kind of income didn't appeal to me at all. Even if so, what then, six years of study down the drain?
As I expected, I had a fight with my husband that evening when I told him about the conference. He couldn't care less about my work obligations; in the end, he got offended and went to the neighbor across the hall to drink his lousy beer and watch his stupid football. Well, to hell with him. I undressed and went to bed early.
The next day at half past ten, my cell phone rang and my husband suspiciously grabbed it and put it to his ear.
— Ah, Margarita Anatolyevna, hello, yes, she's coming down now — he said and handed me the phone — Margo is already waiting for you downstairs.
— I'm sorry, but this isn't my whim — I replied.
— Do what you want — he waved his hand and turned back to the TV.
I went downstairs and saw Margo's red Renault. She was alone. I waved and ran to the car. Settling in comfortably, I said:
— Well, shall we go?
— Let's go. You know, my one and only threw a real fit yesterday when I mentioned this lecture to him — said Margo.
— You won't believe it, but mine did too. He's still sulking.
— Alright, but at least the boss will be happy now. Hopefully he doesn't get too puffed up when he reports on work discipline to the big boss.
— Watch the road.
It took us over an hour to get there. Somewhere halfway, Margo ran a red light and went through a 'no entry' sign, and a traffic cop who appeared out of nowhere promptly fined her a thousand rubles.
— Well, where were you looking, couldn't you have warned me? — Margo said resentfully.
— Sorry, I was lost in thought — and I handed her a thousand-ruble bill.
— Alright, put it away, or we'll fight.
— The lecture is in forty minutes, the materials aren't here yet and the professor is stuck in traffic — she said.
— Very nice — said Margo.
We didn't feel like just sitting stupidly in the stuffy hall, so we went downstairs. There were no benches around, and after loitering a bit, we headed to Margo's car. Sitting down in the seat, I asked:
— Well, what shall we do?
— I don't know.
We sat in silence and I started to doze off when I suddenly felt a soft hand touch my face and stroke my cheek. I flinched and looked at Margo.
— What are you doing? — I asked.
— No, nothing, sorry — she removed her hand — I don't even know how that happened.
— What exactly?
— Never mind.
She continued to study me intently with her gaze, and I became uncomfortable. Margo reached out to me again and ran her fingers over my lips.
I recoiled and watched in surprise as Margo stroked my cheek with her fingers again.
— What's wrong with you, what are you doing?
— Katya, Katyusha, forgive me, but I can't go on like this, I don't know how to tell you, but I've been in love with you for over a year now — and she suddenly burst into loud sobs, dropping her head onto the steering wheel.
I didn't know what to do. This wasn't just unexpected. My colleague and friend, and a married one at that, has a crush on me? But that doesn't happen. Or does it? Here she sits, bitterly weeping, and her tears are very real. Get out of the car and leave? That would mean abandoning her and leaving her to suffer further. Or maybe that's exactly what I should do, so she doesn't stick her hands where they don't belong in the future. But she's having a hard time right now, and it's not nice to just abandon her. And I feel sorry for her, humanly. She's young, a couple of years younger than me, and this has happened to her. I stroked her head while she cried and shuddered. Then she fell silent and sat quietly for a while. And I said:
— Margo, stop, it's okay, it will pass, you're just temporarily infatuated, it happens.
I probably said the wrong thing.
— Get out. Get out of here. I can't stand the sight of you anymore. Damn you.
As if in a fog, I slowly got out of the car and closed the door. Turning my back, I headed towards the administrative building. So there it is, that cursed dream. Oh, this is all for a reason. Probably nothing
good will come of it, that's for sure. And how can you not believe in all that nonsense about dreams. Going up the stairs to the second floor, I entered the auditorium where quite a few people had already gathered. The professor was arranging his papers, and I looked down out the window and saw Margo sobbing, her head dropped onto the steering wheel. Then she took out her makeup bag and a handkerchief, hastily tidied herself up, her car started, and she drove away. I settled in closer and took notes on the entire lecture. When it was over, I approached the lab assistant and she copied the materials onto my flash drive. I got home on foot and by tram. I called Margo several times, but she didn't answer. At home, everything was as usual. My husband was no longer sulking and greeted me warmly. He kissed me on the cheek and, as usual, went to the neighbor's to drink his beer. But I felt uneasy. I was worried about Margo, and her phone still didn't answer. I didn't dare call her husband. If something serious had happened, he would have been the first to call.
That night, I couldn't fall asleep at all. In the morning, I got up at dawn, as I couldn't lie there anymore, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. And I kept thinking about Margo. What happened to her? She fell in love with me. How, in what way? Where, under what circumstances could I have given her a reason? Is she a lesbian? Or maybe something happened to me. And that dream, what does it all mean, why do I wake up wet as a whore. Am I coming in my sleep? Is that even possible? And why do I keep dreaming about her? There's only one logical explanation. And it only means that I myself am in love with her. Head over heels. I just haven't realized it yet. Damn it, here it is, my true nature is being revealed. And Margo saw it in me. Probably a long time ago. What a fool I am. Why did I treat her like that? Is this really happening to me? Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice how my lips parted on their own and I sighed languidly. Oh my god, I'm probably the lesbian — myself. Bury my feelings deep down and pretend nothing happened? And torment myself and Margo? I just don't know what to do.
And here I am at work again. The traditional five-minute briefing. Margo is sitting two tables away from me and looking down.
— So, Margarita Anatolyevna, we're listening to your report — says the department head — we're all attention.
And then I stand up.
— Allow me.
— What's the matter? — says the head.
— Well, we went together, I'm just a better speaker.
— Alright, Ekaterina Sergeevna, we're listening.
And I clearly report everything point by point. Clearly and understandably.
— Excellent, girls, well done, so, head nurse, log a commendation for both in the performance record. Alright, you're free, back to your posts.
Margo looks at me gratefully. She clearly didn't expect such a gesture of goodwill from me.
— Katya, thank you — she says and falls silent.
I give her the flash drive with the lecture materials.
— Here, read it in your free time.
I turn my back to her and leave for my rounds. Got to work.
The workday ended and I went to the on-call room to change. As often happens, I was delayed and everyone had already left. Except Margo. She's sitting at the table writing something.
— Why aren't you leaving? — I asked.
— I'm on night duty today, so I'm here until morning — she says, not lifting her eyes from her writing.
— Margo, but I love you too — I suddenly say, not believing myself that I said this to her — I love you. Do you hear me?
Margo slowly turns towards me and stares intently. There are tears in her eyes. She suddenly takes off her cap and reaches for her hair. With a light movement, she removes a hairpin and golden hair cascades down in thick streams. I am spellbound by her beauty and cannot look away.
Vladova, you bitch, you are devilishly beautiful.
She slowly approaches and now her breath is near my face.
A brief moment, and her lips merge with mine.
And so be it.
Her hands unbutton my clothes, embrace me, and my bra slips to the floor. I don't try to pick it up.
Vladova, how beautiful you are…
Hands, tender and demanding. They touch and caress me. My nipples are hard as nails and I'm breathing heavily. She kisses me and her tongue finds mine. I respond, and our tongues intertwine.
And so be it.
I desire, I want, I love you, Vladova.
She gently squeezes my breast and lowers her hand between my legs. Fingers slip under my panties and I am pierced by blissful passion. To the very tips of my hair. Breaking away from my lips, and without removing her hands from me, she looks me straight in the eyes. With one hand she takes hold of my hair, and with the other she runs her hand between my legs again, then inserts two fingers into me at once and starts fucking me with her hand, pressing her palm hard against my clit. I breathe deeply, my mouth slightly open, her gaze completely paralyzes me. My breathing gradually turns into a moan. And suddenly, impaling myself on Margo's fingers, I come violently and for a long time. It's very much like a series of explosions in my head, and I think I cried out. And if someone hears outside the door. Who cares. My legs stop being my own, and my mouth is completely dry. Margo silently drags me by the hand to the couch behind the screen and I don't resist. I obediently lie on my back and, without looking away, watch as she undresses. A supple body and full breasts. A smoothly shaved pubis and slender legs.
Vladova, you bitch, you're beautiful, come on, take me again.
What happened next? Naturally, I didn't go home, I stayed with Margo and helped her with her work. My husband called and I argued with him, and it didn't really bother me much. And does he even need me? Football and beer are probably more important. In the morning, everyone started gathering and the workday began. And again, the five-minute briefing.
— Oh, Ekaterina Sergeevna, didn't you leave? — said the department head, surveying my usual work attire and slightly disheveled appearance.
—