Olga, Svetlana, and the Handsome Russian Lieutenant

Olga is a country girl.  I mean from here, from this rural part of our great country, Russia.   She calls Krasnoyarsk home, actually a charming village not far from Yartsevo.  All here are fond of our village, and our people as throughout our wonderful Russia, are proud of smaller places we call our homes.  As much as the word “Russian” speaks to those not lucky enough to be Russian, when my countrymen announce their hometown or village to other Russians, this tells the listener much who the speaker is.

Though I am an old man, and my hair thin and white and my movements not so quick as when I was a much younger man, I tell you Olga is easy to see.  With a full bosom and generous hips, she walks so that men have no choice but to stop their moment’s work and notice.  Most striking is Olga’s face, which like the closing lines of an old Russian tale, recounts all of everything before ending.  Olga’s face tells you everything else about her is beautiful, whether you can see for yourself that moment or not.  That Olga is a country girl, one should be careful not to make the mistake to assume her plain, or simple or without charms or as you say in English, “poise.”  Ravnovesiye.

Nyet.  Excuse me, no.  This old man still struggles with the English. Olga is not simple at all. When the women of our small village spoke of life and especially of men, Olga listened carefully and saved in her mind their words.  The babushkas’ idle chatter, as much as local schools’ mathematics and sciences educated Olga.  Olga listened and this she did well, my friend.  This was ten years or so ago, in Olga’s youth.

It was not but a few years ago, a detachment of soldiers from Moscow, long deployed far east of here, found themselves in a tiny winter storm unable to reach Yartsevo.  Yartsevo, you see, was where they were headed to learn as other detachments, where they would next be sent.  If you know of our geography, and if you are a student of the world, you know we are not far from Kazakhstan and this is a place of no modest attentions of late.  Where these soldiers were to go, of course a big sekretnaya, excuse me, secret, but how foolish the military they think people do not understand.  This is of no difference to my tale.

Unable to travel, at least for the evening any further, these soldiers were forced to seek lodging in our village.  Oh, it was not much a storm for us, which we accept with a shrug of our shoulders.  I have seen much less snow and cold drive a place like Chicago of the U S A to small madness; how you say, “insanity.”  Never mind.  It was enough with cold and blowing snow to make night travel not a good plan.  For military men or villagers.  An evening to best make good conversation by the fire, drink vodka, and wait one more day for spring’s coming.

We have but one inn for travelers, and as agriculture and not travel is how we make our living, it is small.  Fortunately for these young soldiers it was not at all occupied this time of winter.  This inn is a place we gather to talk as we Russians do, of the same things someone from the English or the U S A would talk.  When times are good, we will share vodka to chase the chill and make for livelier conversations – to clear the mind to be more receptive to another’s ideas.  Or maybe not.  Yet as a community, mostly hard-working farmers and herdsmen strong drink is never a problem for us as so many stories would tell to listening ears in the west. We work at our work and we relax in our pleasures.  Vy ponimaete?

The young Senior Lieutenant in charge of this detachment was exceptionally handsome.  So many military men pass through our village, I wonder if bored generals’ wives do not draft the army’s promotion lists.  All young Russian men are handsome.  This you know.  Yet it seems, the most handsome are the ones who become lieutenants and captains. This handsome lieutenant, which is a manner of repeating myself, but you must understand, approached the desk of the inn-keeper and spoke not so very much druzheski, excuse me, in a polite way, rather to look down his long nose at the inn-keeper.  I suppose this handsome lieutenant understood how it was he became a lieutenant and so impressed himself that he considered was soon to be a general himself.  Only because he could not wait until he had lieutenants of his own to do such trivial work, he of necessity himself arranged for his men’s comfort.  Soldiers.  If not for their comfort, for their safety.

I am at the same time blessed and cursed my friend, as I am Olga’s father and also the keeper of this comfortable inn in this tiny village.  You can also take my word that what I tell you is nothing but truth. Most I saw briefly as it happened at the desk. The rest as I am Olga’s father, she shared with me later. I have watched Olga grow from child to beautiful woman and am aware that better than but a few men, she can handle the most difficult situation.  But I am still her father and though old, I will risk the final years of my life in Siberia to see that no harm comes to her. I am going to explain.

This old innkeeper was not happy to be spoken to in such a rude way.  The Russian spirit does not accept such.  As a rule, the same Russian spirit and respect for fellow Russians makes this not happen.  As a rule. Not so this evening with this handsome lieutenant and this old innkeeper. This innkeeper was about to do something foolish.  Certainly, this innkeeper risked seeing how old he was and how good a soldier this handsome lieutenant might be.

“Perhaps I can better help you than my father, Lieutenant,” spoke Olga as she came behind the desk. If the handsome lieutenant sensed the urges of this old innkeeper and was ready to demonstrate that handsome lieutenants were not to be treated so, Olga’s complete beauty quickly changed the direction of his thoughts.

“I must lodge my men,” spoke the handsome lieutenant.  He spoke more after the manner of a dandy shopping for a new pair of gloves than a military man considering logistic need.

“Of course, you must, you are the Lieutenant!” said Olga much too nicely in the opinion of this old innkeeper.

Sensing Olga and this innkeeper probably too stupid to have determined so for themselves, the handsome lieutenant went on “It is far too much to ask them to pitch tents in this storm. Or to sleep in their trucks.  And besides, they have just come from months’ hardships in the east and deserve some small comforts.”

“Oh, indeed,” agreed Olga.

“As do I,” added the handsome lieutenant.

“Yes.”

“Deserve some comforts, that is.”  With this, the handsome lieutenant’s eyebrows arched suggestively.  This innkeeper’s anger grew more now because of this new and more unforgivable breach by this handsome lieutenant.   Olga turned her head aside to face this innkeeper and smiled at him.  Confidence and bemusement instantly replaced anger in this innkeeper’s blood.

“Oh certainly. A lieutenant has responsibilities and has certain privileges,” said Olga to the handsome lieutenant.

“Can you billet my men this evening?” the lieutenant asked.

“Unfortunately, there is no heat upstairs but the winds do not find the way inside and we are well stocked with heavy wool blankets.  It will be comfortable,” offered Olga.

“Very good,” smiled the lieutenant.

“However, upstairs we can most comfortably accommodate four to a room though rather tightly packed in.  Six rooms, two-dozen men.”

“We are twenty-four.  And of course, me.  We are shy one billet,” offered the handsome lieutenant as if otherwise this would completely escape anyone else in the room.

“We have another place to accommodate one, only one sir, with some manner of warmth. But it is apart from the inn proper.”

“Excellent.  I will have the men draw lots to see who must take the… Some manner of warmth you say?”  This pause saw the handsome lieutenant’s brow furrow, at once suggesting a most versatile brow and perhaps misleadingly also that the handsome lieutenant might be capable of serious thought.

“Yes, a natural warmth that keeps the chill in check.  It is because…”

“And separate?” interrupted the handsome lieutenant, demonstrating that he was not only perilously handsome but amazingly perceptive too.

“Quite apart from the inn.  Across the courtyard is….”

“Excellent.  If you will provide the keys, I will dispatch my men to their quarters for the night. And I will take these separate quarters.”

Olga retrieved the keys and handed them to this old innkeeper, saying to him, “The lieutenant and I will be but a few minutes with papers and such and then I will show him to his quarters. If you, father, would show these other men the way and make sure they have enough blankets.  Please bring down two of the blankets for the lieutenant.”

“Or three?” questioned the handsome lieutenant.

“Oh, two will suffice,” said Olga, “it really is quite warm across the courtyard.” She nodded to this innkeeper.  The innkeeper and the small army he now found himself to be lieutenant of, left for the stairs to the waiting rooms where the innkeeper went about settling them in.

As quickly as the men were out of earshot, the handsome lieutenant continued, leaning in across the desktop that Olga might be able more clearly to see how handsome this handsome lieutenant was.

“I have not had the comfort of a woman in many months,” he said.

“That is sad,” said Olga, accompanying the statement with a truly piteous frown.

“Oh, very sad, indeed.  Such sacrifices we make for our country, especially officers.”

“Oh, doubtless.”

“Do you know how I might… I mean… that is… if there were a young woman who would…”

“That, handsome young lieutenant, would depend on how well you ply your charms.”

“Ah, yes, this delightful ‘lady’ would she be of a mind to show favor to a handsome young lieutenant of Russia’s Army?”

“I suppose it would be of no consequence to her. One man as far as she is concerned is much the same as any other.”

“This handsome officer, is, you know, me, standing before you?”

“Oh, I am aware of what handsome young Russian lieutenant we speak,” said Olga.

“This young thing… has she… well is she… I mean… for example is she as beautiful as you?”

“I suppose so, depending of course on who owns eyes bent on admiring,” said Olga, and again she smiled for benefit of the handsome lieutenant.

“Or devouring,” said the handsome lieutenant with a lecherous smirk.

“Or that,” agreed Olga but without commitment.

“Has she, I mean, has she siski to compare to yours?”  The handsome lieutenant seemed emboldened.  He expected here, no doubt, a coy blush but Olga gave him none.

“Oh, much more than I!” said Olga.

“She is not you?”

“She is not.”

She is as beautiful, as desirous as you.  She has big siski?”

“Again, handsome Lieutenant, that depends on the male eye.  To some, more so even.  And believe me her siski are much, much more than mine.”

“I cannot imagine.  This creature then is not you?”

“No, it is not me, handsome Lieutenant.  But yes, but it is true, Svetlana is well-endowed.  I have heard the local men admire and comment.”

Clearly the handsome lieutenant while disappointed that Olga might not be the prize he sought.  Yet the promise of even more caused his smile to become so evil that he was no longer a “handsome” lieutenant.

“She would share with me?  I do not mean to be crude…  but… well… to be crude, would she allow me to play with her fine siski”

“So long as your fingers are warm, I do not think she would mind at all.”

“Her lips, are they…”

“Her breath is as sweet fresh milk.”

“And it is warm there?  I mean one’s covers are sometimes difficult to manage when…”

“It is quite warm.  I am there twice a day and a thick sweater alone keeps the chill away.”

“You are sure?”

“Oh, yes, Lieutenant.”

“Would this female mind visiting there?”

“Oh, Svetlana spends many nights there.”

“This delightful creature is sadly, not you?

“No, young Lieutenant.”  Olga paused, knowing what she said to the lieutenant would eventually sink in, that eventually the Dnieper would thaw. She sighed, “Again once more, she is not me.”

“But she is as I described?  Generously endowed?” The lieutenant made as if his hands were brassier cups lifting ponderous imaginary breasts up the front of his tunic, demonstrating how truly talented were his brows as he quickly raised and lowered them twice insinuatingly.  “And willing to share… and if things went well to share… I mean she is not married, has no husband?”

“Generously, again, yes.  With big brown eyes and soft dark hair.  And a low, gentle voice. Married?  No certainly not.  As to the rest, that is to the two of you to determine.”

“She is, as they say, ‘loose?”   Whether the lieutenant’s concern was solely that his sabre not be fouled, though clearly he considered his sabre fair to foul, or some other reason we cannot tell, we must guess.  The versatility of his eyebrows had already been taxed and presented no hint – no suggestion of revulsion, distaste, sudden desire for celibacy, fear, or need to reconsider his ‘need’ for pleasure.

“No, Lieutenant, she seldom takes company.  Perhaps only once a year.”

Chudesnyi!”  That was, the lieutenant thought this wonderful, and he continued, “Let us not keep this charming female waiting.”

You will come with me Lieutenant Pachayevsky,” (She had seen him sign the government papers) “and do bundle up for we must cross the courtyard.”

“Oh, so long as it is warm inside.  I mean, after.”

As if on cue for the next scene in an opera, this old innkeeper appeared with two thick, cream-colored wool blankets.  He had paused, unseen, for a brief while at the head of the stairs, listening to the conversation between Olga and the handsome Russian lieutenant.

The lieutenant extended his arms as if to have the innkeeper make a deferential ceremony on depositing the blankets there.  The innkeeper with no ceremony at all handed the blankets to the lieutenant.

“Come along, Lieutenant,” said Olga, now wrapping herself in a thick fur coat, “let us cross the back courtyard. Here, we must leave through the back door.”

The lieutenant walked past the desk and together they walked into the inn kitchen. Olga stopped and lit an old brakeman’s lantern. “Follow me, please, Lieutenant.”

Outside, the snow swirled furiously, but some thirty or forty meters away the front of a building was visible.  They hurried off to it and once there, Olga opened the door and held it for the lieutenant. 

Inside, the lieutenant looked around at the ‘room’ quite adequately illuminated by the lantern.  “But this is a barn!” he offered with a noticeable degree of incredulity.

“Indeed it is!” said Olga. “But I did not lie, see how warm it is inside.”

The lieutenant loosened his overcoat and spread its front so as to expose himself to the icy air – which exactly as Olga had told him, was not there.  “Why, it is warmer here than in the inn.”

“Because of the animals,” explained Olga.  “Their bodies keep it quite warm as father has plugged all the cracks and the building itself is half underground in the rear as it nestles against a small hill.”

“But to sleep?”

“To sleep there is a large cot over there against the wall.  See?”  Olga pointed.  “Just there.”

“Oh, perfectly adequate!”  The lieutenant started toward the cot but pulled abruptly to a stop and turned to face Olga.

Olga met his questioning look simply saying, “So there you are, young Lieutenant…”

“When shall I see Svetlana?” asked the lieutenant?

“She is there.” Olga pointed to a stall some ten meters to the other side of the room.

“But that is a…”

“Cow.  Exactly, young Lieutenant.  If you do indeed have a mind to squeeze her tits, do use this bucket and be careful of the milk as we will use it to make bliny tomorrow. 

With that, Olga turned and left quickly that little of the outside wind and snow should violate Svetlana’s bedroom.  The door slammed tightly behind her.

Zhopa!”  Olga muttered to herself as she bumped into her father, me, the old innkeeper. “Father!”

This old innkeeper smiled from inside the flaps of his cap and said, “Only to make certain, Olga, only to make certain.  You have left the young lieutenant to his discoveries?  It seems unfair to Svetlana.”

“Svetlana, father, is like me, and can take care of herself.”

© S P Wilcenski March, 2010

Notes

  • Krasnoyarsk krai – Federal subject of Russia
  • Yartsevo – a village in southern Krasnoyarsk
  • Ravnovesiye Равновесие – balance, equilibrium, poise
  • Babushkas – in Russia and Poland, an old woman, a grandmother
  • Kazakhstan – south and west of Krasnoyarsk krai
  • sekretnaya секретная – Secret
  • Vy ponimaete Вы понимаете – You understand
  • Russian Army officer ranks: Cadet, Jr. Lieutenant, First Lieutenant, Senior Lieutenant, Captain…
  • Druzheski дружески – amicably
  • siski сиськи – boobs, tits, hooters
  • Chudesnyi Чудесный – wonderful
  • Bliny блины – pancakes
  • Zhopa жопа – ass
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