
LAURIE'S RUSSIAN CONNEXION


By KATZMAREK (C)


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This is a work of erotic fiction. It cannot be used for gain
without the author's express permission in writing.


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Laurie had one last look over the old place. If they used that
much Native timber in a house these days, he thought, they'd
need special legislation in Parliament. But in those days the
forest came down to the river. Stands of tall Totara and Beech
trees that hummed and twittered with wildlife.


His ancestors had cleared the land with the axe and two-man
hand saws. There used to be a sawmill by the river in those
days. At first they had a waterwheel then a steam engine to
drive the bandsaws and rollers. It closed sometime in the 1920s
when all the timber ran out.


His Grandfather had built the old house by hand in the early
20th century. It stood through fire, flood and the occasional
earthquake. It had been extended, modified and generally
buggered around with but the front was original. The slash
windows were narrow and retangular and now looked incongruous
alongside the later additions.


Laurie watched the demo people set up their gear. Much of the
timber, of course, would be salvaged and sold off at a grossly
inflated price. That's the way it is, he thought, everyone
making a fortune out of the hard manual work of folks long dead.
The old farm was going to be sub-divided into 30 acre blocks and
sold off to city folks at half a million bucks apiece. That
means the developers stood to walk away with around 8 million,
he figured, net!


Still, as the sole surviving family member he'd done alright
out of the deal. The family farm had been freehold for years so
he didn't have to share the 6 million sale price with any
financial institution. What with his own farm, worth about 4
million in today's market, he had more money than he knew what
to do with.


"See ya, Laurie," one of the demo people waved as Laurie headed
back to his brand new Isuzu Bighorn. He nodded at the man before
climbing in. Despite himself, his eyes watered as he drove down
the familiar driveway to the main road.


"A bastard," he told his old dog, "but that's the way it is, I
suppose. I hope they don't pollute the creek." Then he
remembered the tons of Superphosphate, Urea, Lime, weedkillers
and sheepdip that must have washed down that river over the
years and smiled.


He drove on into town to the pub. Te Kiako had been a busy port
once, but that had been a great many years ago. Flax and timber
used to come down the river to be loaded onto ships bound for
Australia and the World. There was no-more timber and the flax
swamps had been drained for farmland. The Railway had finally
killed the port in the 1890s. Now there was just a few 
commercial fishing boats and a ramp for the weekend sailors.


The town reflected its disuse by all the old derelict
buildings, stone chimneys in fields from long demolished houses
and the run-down community hall. It was just a pub, a farm
supply store and Mr Lee's Superette, where  one of his sons
followed the customers around the shop lest one slipped a bottle
of Worcester Sauce under their woollen jumper. Laurie pulled
into the pub carpark and went in the back door.


"Hey, Laurie!" one of the old regulars called, "been up to the
old place? Bring a bit of life into town, eh? All them city
folks..." Foot propped on a stool, John Hargood sounded
unconvinced. "Ernies goin' to turn the place into one of them
cocktail bars," he continued, "gettin' some sheilas to serve in
short skirts..."


"That'll be the day," grumbled Ernie from the bar, "me
missus'll want cameras behind the bar to keep an eye on me. If
those folks want a beer they have to take the place as they find
it," he announced.


"They won't, not with your grizzly mug scouring at them."


"Fuck off if you don't like it," Ernie whipped back.


Laurie collected a handle of Tui from the bar and sat down at
John's table. He silently watched the pool players for a while.
New people in town will spell the end of all this, he thought,
and good riddance.


He didn't really like pubs anyway, but there was nothing else
to do during the slow part of the year. He was tired of the
predictable banter, the faded, beer-soaked carpet, the scuffed
woodwork with a thousand cigarette scars. Most of all he was
tired of the stale, blokey atmosphere stuck in some 1950s
timewarp. He almost expected 6pm closing and men carrying jugs
of beer out to the carpark for a final guzzle before staggering
into their '47 Chevys. It all reeked of stifling decay.


"So how are you and this Russian sheila?" John asked. His face
betrayed smug skepticism.


"Good," Laurie answered. He'd learned not to say too much.


"Bloody mug!" John told him, "y'know, all them websites are
ripoffs... owned by the Mafia... true!" He drained his glass and
looked at Laurie questioningly.


"Another handle for John," Laurie called across the bar to Ernie.


"Them sheilas are not real... models, all of them. They hook
you in, see and them Mafia agents ask you for money or get your
credit card number. I read all about it."


"Yeah?"


"Yeah. You get an Email asking you to send money for the
airfare. When you do you never see the sheila nor the money
again... I read about it."


"Yeah?"


"Yeah. What's her name?"


"Svetlana."


"Made up... She ain't real... just some model... you'll see!"


"She's coming in three weeks," Laurie told him absently.


"Lay you 20 ewes she won't show?" he challenged.


"You're on! Those fat Romneys, not that shagged out old mutton
you keep in the back paddock."


"Done," John said scratching his jaw. Those ewes were worth a
fair bit of money.


Laurie left shortly after a trio of deerstalkers crashed
boisterously through the door. Blood soaked their backs where
they'd carried the meat out of the bush. They began to regale
the regulars about the one that got away and the 16 pointer
they'd shot over the back of the ridge. Laurie wasn't in the
mood for noise and bragging. At least it stalled John's teasing
over his Internet lady.


She was 33 with a 15 year old son called Igor. She lived in
Moscow, she'd told him, in a shabby, one room apartment in the
suburb of Vladimir. She'd described acres of run-down Soviet-era
apartment blocks where the elevators had long-since broken down
and never repaired. She lived with her Mother and  her son,
sleeping in divan beds and collapsible stretchers. The State
paid a meagre pension, she'd explained, which she supplemented
by working part-time in a Kindergarten.


The 'Russian Connexion' website had featured a beautiful slim
woman with dark eyes and an alluring smile. The not-quite
professional photograph was carefully posed, the woman finely
made-up with dark auburn hair cascading down to her shoulders.
She'd been No.3 on his list of possibles and the only one who'd
replied with any enthusiasm. Most of the woman, it seemed,
wanted to go to America.


He'd sent her money to buy a computer so they could Email each
other. The Agency charged a hefty fee to use their service and
it seemed a logical thing to do. There had been more money over
the past year. Little things for the household, a modern TV,
microwave and some private English tuition for Igor. Eventually
it had cost him over 40 grand.


It had crossed his mind that he was being suckered, that
Svetlana and Igor were not real and his money was going into
some mobster's pocket. If so, it was a very skillful con for it
had him convinced.


'WHERE IS NEW ZEALAND?' she'd Emailed him.


'SOUTH PACIFIC, 2000 KILOMETRES FROM AUSTRALIA,' he'd replied.


'IS IT HOT THERE? DO YOU HAVE SNOW?'


'WARM SUMMERS, MILD WINTERS, SOME SNOW BUT ONLY IN THE HIGH
COUNTRY AND IN THE VERY SOUTH.'


'DO YOU LIVE IN A BIG HOUSE? DO YOU HAVE A CAR?'


'FIVE BEDROOMS, CONSERVATORY, SWIMMING POOL, CAR, SUV, 2 QUAD
BIKES AND A TRACTOR.'


'YOU LIVE BY YOURSELF?'


'JUST ME AND THE DOGS.'


'CAN I HAVE A DOG?'


'DOG, PET LAMB, A CALF, WHATEVER YOU LIKE.'


Igor wrote the Emails because his Mother had little English.
Laurie had taken some Russian lessons by correspondence but he
wasn't a natural with languages. He found the language daunting
and the Cyrillic alphabet impossible.


It occurred to him that what he was describing to Svetlana was
nothing short of Paradise. Green fields and rolling hills, empty
beachs with only the seabirds for company must seem like a
fantasy. He knew he was embroidering the truth a little but how
much would one need to exaggerate to someone in Svetlana's
circumstances?


Laurie had been married but it hadn't gone the distance. She'd
been a neighbour whom he'd known since school. In three years it
had been all over and she'd gone to Australia to 'find herself.'
Laurie hung on for another two years before finally admitting
she was never coming back. Two years ago she'd sent him a letter
asking for a dissolution. It was the one and only communication
he'd had with her since their separation.


Judith had looked at the rest of her life and saw isolation,
Laurie supposed. She hankered after the bright lights and
opportunity, Night Clubs, boutiques, coffee bars and all that
only the city could provide. She'd wanted to go to University
and do a Degree before time and children made it too difficult.
He understood how she felt, but cities made him claustrophobic.
He liked that you could count the cars going past on one hand
and wake up to the squawking of the Starlings and Minahs.


His farm was a good hour out of town down unsealed roads. The
house sat on rising ground just below a Pine plantation. He'd
planted mature Kowhais and other Native trees to provide shade
in summer and to encourage the birds. At the side of the house
was a Sheoak where he and Judith had made love one Summer's
afternoon. He missed that. Imaginative she was, game for
anything.


A vivid picture presented itself in his mind. Judith with her
wobbling bare breasts and impish grin dragging him by the hand.
He flicked the autocue to Soundgarden, dark and reflective music
that radiated his moods back in crystal clarity.


"Eat me, lick me!" Would Svetlana beg him to go down on her?
Such eyes belie a passionate nature, he concluded. 'Yes, she'd
appreciate his tongue. He'd been well-trained by Judith.'


"Bite them, suck them!" What were Svetlana's breasts like? Did
she have sensitive nipples like Judith? Svetlana had never sent
any photos of herself naked and he'd been too shy to ask. Even
after he'd sent the money for her to buy a Sony Digicam her
pictures were of the Moscow winter and Igor and Babushka walking
in the snow. Her photos had shown her looking ominously older,
suggesting that her original picture had been doctored.


He still couldn't imagine what her body looked like. A photo of
her in a woollen sweater was his favourite, smiling, arms-
spread, displaying the Norsewear Aran-knit he'd sent her one
Christmas. He saw a nice swell to her chest that the wool
couldn't conceal. Her face had a wide grin. He thought her lips
sensuous and full of promise. Did she do blow-jobs? Would her
mouth work magic on him as Judith's had? Was he expecting to
much?


Most of all he missed the company, someone with whom he could
share the day. True, Judith was from a farming background so
understood what he was talking about. Svetlana, who struggled
with English and had never known a life like this, how could she
possibly fit in? The negatives seemd to line up the positives
against a brick wall and dispatch them with a volley.


'Moscow to Frankfurt,' he thought, 'Frankfurt, London, Hong
Kong then Auckland. Plenty of opportunity for her to change her
mind and get lost in the wealth of the West. A tidy sum in the
Bank, too,' he mused, 'all care of his Father's estate. He's
going to look pretty stupid in front of dickheads like John
Hargood.' 


"Told you!" he heard them say, 'Arseholes!'


As he drove up his long driveway, the Autumn evening was
already whispering a Winter chill. The breeze from the mountains
tickled his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It drove him indoors
and towards the wood stove.


'You've got mail!' his computer told him. 'sschapakinov at da
dot ru.' It was Svetlana/Igor.


'DEAR LAURENCE,' it read, 'I HAVE THE TICKETS UPLIFTED. YOU
MEET US, PLEASE? I SEND YOU TIME OF ARRIVAL. IS IT FAR?
SVETLANA,'


'ABOUT 18,000 KILOMETRES, I WILL MEET YOU IN AUCKLAND. LAURIE,'
he typed back.


There was an attachment with a jpeg of her and Igor proudly
holding their airline tickets and passports. Laurie had no doubt
John Hargood was the one going to look stupid. He clicked on his
favourite photo once again. The one with her in the sweater
smiling. He took that image with him to bed.


Three weeks later he awoke in the morning as usual at 5am. As
usual he went out into the chill morning to help bring the herd
in for milking. He fired up the Kawasaki Workhorse and set off
across the paddocks. Already the hands had gathered the herd
together and got them moving towards the gate. Laurie took point
down the road lest one of the milk tankers should come barreling
along. The big Volvo units took a lot of stopping.


The yapping of the Huntaways punctuated the still morning as
the dogs harried the cows into some sort of order. Udders heavy,
the herd knew the way but were apt to take time out to munch at
the grass on the roadside.


"Hey Laurie," Malcolm, his leading hand called, "why don't you
bugger off. We don't need you. Go and meet that sheila of yours."


"Just thought I'd help," he replied, "if I leave after
breakfast I can be there just after lunch, book into a motel and
be at the airport by three."


"Yeah, but you don't know Auckland traffic, mate. Could be
stuck on the Great South Road for an hour."


"Yeah? S'pose," he considered.


"Yeah, g'wan, fuckoff."


"I guess so. Sure you don't need a hand?"


"With what? Your fuckin' useless anyway, all-horny, dreamin' of
that sheila."


"I guess."


"Yeah, give her one for us, mate!"


"I will," Laurie smiled as he made his way back to the house.


Laurie had bought a brand new Maxima Wagon. Big enough, he
figured, for his new family. He pointed it North for the 6 hour
journey to Auckland. He found a Motel close to the airport and
arrived at the terminal building early.


To while away the time, he fetched up in the bar. It had a TV
screen announcing arrivals and departures and he sat fascinated
as it scrolled on and on.


'BA779 HK to AK (delayed) ETA TBA,' the column read. 'OK,' he
thought to himself, 'it's held up somewhere.' He ordered a
whisky from the indifferent waiter and tried to read the
newspaper. He was in a state of controlled panic, however, and
the newsprint staring back at him was incomprehensible.


'BA779 HK to AK (delayed) ETA 1730.' 'That's something,' he
thought, '2 hour's late but still on its way.'


Eventually the British Airways Airbus landed and seemed to
Laurie to take ages to dock with the Terminal. It was another
half an hour before the first of the tired passengers had
maneuvred through Immigration and Customs.


All was a pandemonium of hoots and hollers, cries and tears of
joy. Laurie tried to control his panic amid the throngs of
people. More humanity, he thought, than at a big Provincial
Rugby game. He hated it but tried to stay focussed on the double
doors.


The passengers egressing from the arrival hall began to thin
out. It was now nearly an hour after the Jumbo landed and
thoughts that Svetlana was not coming began to intrude on
Laurie's mind.


His anxiety was increasing, he wanted to kick something, wanted
to be out of this madhouse and back on his farm. The crowd began
to disperse leaving him with a feeling of vulnerabiity. He
imagined the airport staff watching him and thinking, 'what a
mug!'


Taking one last look at the double doors before leaving he saw
a woman and a boy standing all alone. She was slim with dark
auburn hair tied into a ponytail. Her black dress was smoothed
tight to her hips and fell down to her ankles. She clutched a
leather purse protectively while her other arm was wrapped
around the waist of the tall, skinny youth. Their faces had a
startled, anxious expression. Their eyes swept quickly around
them liked scared rabbits.


Laurie felt the air expel from his lungs in one audible rush.
He felt a warm glow wash over his face. He broke into a wide
smile and called to them.


"Svetlana! Igor! Here!"


"Laurence!" she cried. Her voice was heavily accented, deep,
and stumbling over the English consonants. They looked like a
pair of shipwrecked sailors about to be rescued. Relief, joy,
excitement replaced the terrified expressions. "Laurence," she
repeated as he rushed up to the pair. After a brief hesitant
moment, Svetlana planted a brief kiss on Laurie's cheek. His
hands held her shoulders and tingled with the much-anticipated
contact. "I am happy to see you," she said, carefully and
deliberately. The 'h' was guttural and the 'a' extended so the
word 'happy' sounded like 'hcharpy.'


"Me too," Laurie told them, "did you have a good journey?" he
asked lamely. Svetlana looked at Igor who repeated the question
in Russian.


"Yes... fine... da!" she answered.


"Da... good," repeated Laurie. Through the joy he began to
think that language was going to be a big hurdle.


He guided them to the baggage claim. Igor kept up a commentary
in Russian, explaining to his Mother what the signs meant. The
boy asked Laurie questions in polite and too-formal English. He
wondered how a few months in New Zealand will affect that
speech. A nation, so we're told, of vowel stranglers and word
butchers.


Finally emerging into the concrete paddock of a car park,
Svetlana reached into her purse and extracted a packet of B and
H. She put a cigarette to her lips and tried to light it from
brass Zippo. Her hands shook with fatigue and stress and it was
some moments before she could take a long drag of blue smoke.


Laurie was startled. It never occured to him to ask if she was
a smoker. It had been a good many years since he'd given up his
rollies and he was not sure how he would cope with the smoke. He
watched her breathe a cloud of smoke for a second before making
up his mind. On impulse he asked, "may I?" and indicated the
gold packet. She passed over a cigarette with a smile followed
by the lighter. Laurie pushed back the thought that he was
taking a step back into degradation. The nicotine rush made him
tremble before his mind began to float in a satisfying burst of
Pheromones. Smiling, the group began to search out the Maxima.


Svetlana instinctively stood by the driver's door. Laurie
opened it and she was startled to find the steering wheel on the
right. Abashed, she went around the vehicle to the passenger's
side. Haltingly, she tried to explain that they drive on the
left in Russia. Igor translated and helped her Mother with her
missing nouns. In all the comment took a good 3 minutes before
all were satisfied they understood. Language *was* going to be a
problem, thought Laurie.


Svetlana wore a powerful scent that suffused the Nissan with
the smell of roses. Laurie suspected he'd paid for the perfume.
He noted she was wearing the jade earings he'd sent her for her
birthday. Similarly the necklace he recognised as the gold item
with pearl pendant that he'd sent her for Christmas. Igor
sported a heavy wristwatch with a gold band, *his* birthday
present, and began playing a Gameboy, again, a present from
Laurie.


They rode in silence through the half-hour journey to the
Motel. Jet-lag was beginning to kick in, Laurie noted. The pair
were riding on Adrenalin.


They refused dinner, having eaten on the plane. However Laurie
realised he was starving. He settled them into the Motel room
then went in search of some takeaways.


When he returned he found them watching satelite TV, a
documentary on African termites. He put the box of chips on the
table and nodded to Igor's questioning look. The youth scoffed
most of them as well as Laurie's Pepsi. Svetlana looked
disapproving but did not intervene.


The fatigue of the day finally caught up with Laurie and he
left the pair to the TV and got into the double bed. In the
morning he found Mother and son sound asleep in the single bed,
Animal Planet still rotating its documentaries on the big TV.


When the pair woke around mid-morning, Laurie was more than
ready to pack up and leave the city. They munched through a
brunch to a doco on Gorillas before packing their bags into the
Wagon. Svetlana and Igor dozed most of the way South, waking up
again half-an-hour out of Te Kiako.


The trip out to Laurie's farm was dusty. Svetlana was alarmed
at the narrowness of the road, the sheer drop on one side and
the deep drainage ditch on the other. Laurie drove with one hand
on the wheel with his elbow out the open window. To Svetlana he
was piloting the vehicle at breakneck speed around blind corners
and down dizzying grades.


"You can see the dust from the trucks miles away," he explained
to Igor. "The milk tankers go like the clappers but they're all
good drivers and know what they're doing." When Igor translated
for his Mother, she looked unconvinced and stared out the window
for the oncoming behemoths.


When they arrived at the farm, Laurie saw that Svetlana had
been traumatised by the ride. "You'll get used to it," he told
her, "d'you drive?" She shook her head in terror.


By dinner she had relaxed, calmed by the peaceful atmosphere
and the casual reassurance of Laurie. Back in his own
environment, he was calm and attentative. He took the pair for a
ride around the property in the Bighorn, showed her the milking
shed, stockyards and the Pine plantation. He persuaded her to
pat a cow and she chatted to it in Russian. Laurie was pleased
to see she wasn't daunted by the size of the animal, despite
never having been that close to stock in her life. Igor snapped
photos of them all with his Sony Digicam. She watched with
interest the hands bringing the herd in for evening milking,
embarrassed a little by the curious stares of the men.


"How'd ya like the place," one asked her cheerily, "bit
different from Russia, eh?" His lazy drawl defeated even Igor's
comprehension. Laurie translated for Igor who translated for his
Mother.


"Good!" she told the farmhand.


Returning to the house, Laurie fixed them dinner while they
checked out the TV. The pair ate their steaks to a documentary
on Lemurs.


Laurie was unsure about sleeping arrangements. He would have
like to move Svetlana into his bed straight away, but instead
showed her a spare room. He couldn't broach the subject with her
son translating, it would be far too embarrassing. She seemed
happy with the arrangement so he decided to let things take
their course. Igor was excited that he could have a room all to
himself. Laurie offered him a TV and patched it through to the
satelite topbox. He told him he'd get another box so he could
watch whatever he liked.


While Igor happily organised his room, Laurie had an
opportunity of having Svetlana all to himself. The TV still
droned on and he began to resent the distraction. Perhaps, he
thought, she was diverting into the Television as a way of
avoiding the communication problem. Laurie, though, was
determined to bridge the gap. He'd... they'd, come too far to
fail over language.


"Television... in English... television," he pointed.


"It's same in Russian," she replied smiling.


"I'm happy you're here... at last," he told her slowly.


"Me also," she replied.


She sat in Laurie's Lazyboy where he sometimes spent the night
having fallen asleep listening to Kate Bush. He wished they
could sit together on the sofa but he wasn't confident about
asking her. These things, he decided, can't be rushed.


"You like dinner?" he asked.


"Dinner, yes, very good. No much meat in Russia."


"What did you eat there?"


"Ah," she replied, comprehending, "fish... yes? ahhh po-ta-
toes, yes? Bread? Much vegetable... ahhh soup, yes?"


"Different here, yes?"


"Ahhh yes... much different, New Zealand. Very far...
strange... roads very bad!" She beamed at him and he smiled back
at the reference.


"You like the house?" he asked her.


She stared back in wonder, finally distracted from the TV.


"Is palace!" she said, "is too big for one person."


"Maybe three?" he smiled.


"Ahh. Maybe so," she smiled back.


"You want to stay?" he asked her quietly, hopefully.


"Stay? Maybe so... maybe too strange... is big step for me."


"Yes, a big step," he agreed, "you teach me Russian?"


"Me teach... of course!" she agreed, "you teach me English
words?"


"Better than that," he told her, "I'll teach you Kiwi."


"I not understand."


"Don't worry, you will."


"You good man, Laurence," she told him as she turned off the
TV. She bent over and kissed him briefly on the lips before
wandering off to her room.


Laurie was up early as usual to give the hands help with
milking. The men smiled knowingly at him, each busting to ask
him how the night went. He grinned cryptically at him and they
all called him a 'lucky bastard.' One said 'she was a bit of
alright' and he was surprised to see him up so early.


"Expected you'll be still shaggin' 'er," he said, "I would be."


"In ya dreams, Scotty," he told the man.


Later, Igor and Laurie sat on the sun porch while Svetlana
talked to her Mother in Moscow on the phone.


"Mama doesn't talk about my Father," Igor explained, "she told
me he was a 'bad man' who 'tricked' her into getting pregnant.
She said he was a Policeman, that's all I know."


"A cop, eh? Pity, a man should know who his Father is," Laurie
told him, "even if he's a ratbag, you ought to know."


"Ratbag? You explain please?"


"Arsehole."


"Ah," he laughed, "that word I know, 'arsehole.' He was an
arsehole! Mother says that New Zealand men are not 'arseholes'
like Russian men. She says I ought to stay here and have a
better life and be like a New Zealand man."


"Oh, we have our arseholes alright," Laurie told him, "most of
them in the Government."


"Oh," Igor laughed, "this is true of Russia also."


"And a lot of stroppy sheilas."


"'Stroppy sheilas?' These words I don't know."


"Never mind," Laurie smiled, "you stay here long enough and
you'll find out."


"Will you teach me to ride Motorcycle?"


"Let's do it now! And the Tractor... Most kids around here are
driving both by the time they start school."


"Really? That is very young!"


"Well, not really. It's one of the famous Kiwi overstatements.
I meant to say they learn very early on to do those things.
That's all."


"Oh, I think I understand."


Laurie took him down to the paddock with one of the Quad bikes
and spent an hour or two watching Igor putt around on the Green
machine. When he returned, Svetlana was still on the phone and
he shuddered at the thought of the toll bill.


That evening, Laurie persuaded Svetlana to sit with him on the
sofa. At last he levered her loose from the TV and put on some
quiet music. She looked a little tense at first so he fixed her
an Irish coffee as a 'loosener.' It worked and she relaxed back
into the soft cushions.


"Mama is very lonely," she told him, "she not happy."


"Bring her over here?" he suggested.


"She will not come," Svetlana told him, sadly, "she is old...
is too much for old woman."


"You saying you wish to return to Russia?"


"I... don't know... too much decisions... Igor, he want stay
here... go to school... be Engineer and build roads," she looked
at him slyly. "You need roads, yes?" she managed to grin.


"What does Svetlana want?"


"You nice man." Her eyes began to water. "This place...
beautiful... is palace... I feel like Princess in story, but...
Babushka all alone in Moskva. I do not know what to do."


"We go back together," he told her suddenly, "tie-up Grandma
and haul her arse back here. Set her up with tea and cakes in
the front room and spike her milk with Vodka!"


She looked at him barely comprehending. Her eyes widened as
some of what he'd said sunk in.


"You do this?" she asked in surprise, "for me?"


"For you," he told her. 'And,' he thought to himself, 'for me.'


Joy washed over her face. She flung her arms around him and
gave him a big sloppy kiss on the mouth. Her lips tasted of
coffee and whiskey. She remained against him, arms wrapped
around his neck. Laurie slipped his arm over her shoulders as
she lay her head on his chest. Absently, he tangled his fingers
in her thick Auburn hair and caressed her scalp. Svetlana hummed
approval and stroked the back of his head with her fingers. She
looked up and accepted another kiss, gentle and loving.


"Must have shower," she said quietly, "smell!"


"Want someone to scrub your back?" he asked.


"Scrub back... you?" she asked. Laurie wondered for a moment
whether he'd gone too far. Her face took on a soft, sly
expression. She stared straight back into his eyes as if
searching his mind. "Ok," she answered, her voice a whisper,
"you scrub back." She kissed him to seal the bargain.


Laurie guided her to the en suite bathroom adjoining his
bedroom. She looked uncertain at first as he drew her past the
large common bathroom off the lounge area. She slipped back to
her room apologetically. 'I change' she told him. In five
minutes she returned, however, dressed in a  robe, carrying a
towel and pinning back her hair.


Laurie allowed a few minutes for Svetlana to shower alone
before joining her. When he quietly slid back the shower door,
there was a moment when they appraised each other's naked bodies
with the anxious curiosity of new lovers. Svetlana saw his body
was lean and hard from manual work and the outdoor life. A
sparse down covered his chest. He had a self-effacing grin on
his face as he submitted himself to her inspection.


Svetlana was nothing short of gorgeous in the flesh, Laurie
decided. Her body was tall, slim and pale from the European sun.
Her shoulders were narrow, accentuated by the way she held her
elbows into herself as if protecting her body from Laurie's
lascivious gaze. Her body was slightly bent forward which
allowed her breasts to hang unsupported out from her chest. They
were smallish, well-shaped like a teenager's and crowned with
two brown prominent nipples. Laurie's mouth went dry at the
sight of her. He broke the spell and eased his body in behind
her. The tip of his semi-flaccid prick brushed the curve of her
pale arse.


Laurie put his hands on Svetlana's waist and explored her skin
the length of her sides to her armpits. His hands curled over
her shoulder-blades then back down to the small of her back. She
shivered at the contact and stole a glance back to see what he
was doing. Laurie squirted some of the soap onto her back then
smeared the suds well into her skin. Svetlana tilted back her
head in appreciation and flexed her back in pleasure.


"Ok?" he whispered in her ear.


"Da... good!"


His hands smoothed their way down over her hips and over the
cheeks of her bottom. "Good!" she crooned.


Presently, Laurie eased her slowly around to face him. She
looked into his eyes and extended her face for a kiss. Her lips
were soft and warm and Laurie lingered, brushing his own lips
against hers. Her mouth undulated against his, pressing harder
and harder until his body began to shiver with passion and lust.
He encircled her, drawing her wet body against his. She
responded with her arms around his shoulders.


His growing cock brushed against the wet prickly thatch of her
dark bush. His hands fell down to her arse and pulled her crotch
into his. Her legs inched apart slightly and Laurie sensed the
hot promise of her juicy folds. She buried her face in his neck.
Laurie could feel her hot breath on his skin despite the
cascading water. She nuzzled against him drawing comfort from
his hard body.


By unsaid agreement they decided they'd had enough of the
shower and stepped out to the towels. They dried each other's
backs then hugged before walking through to Laurie's bedroom.
Donning her robe, Svetlana offered to make coffees for them,
before retreated to the kitchen. Laurie slipped into bed then
dimmed the lights so only the dull glow of the bedside reading
lamps washed away the black of the country night.


Svetlana seemed to take an age. Like many Europeans, she
regarded instant coffee with scorn and finally returned with two
glasses of frothy cappucino. Laurie noted they'd been liberally
dosed with Irish whiskey. She got into bed beside him still
dressed in her robe, stuck for conversation in her limited
English. Laurie clinked glasses with her and smiled. It was all
he could think of at that moment.


"Prost!" he said.


"Prost!" she repeated.


There was a shy moment before Svetlana settled against him. The
shower and  alcohol had made her drowsy and she closed her eyes
humming quietly to herself. Although Laurie was aroused at the
thought of finally getting Svetlana into his bed he let her
drift off to sleep. 'Things,' he figured, 'were coming along
nicely without him forcing the issue.'


He woke the next morning early as usual. Instead of going out
to help the boys he opted to stay in bed. He imagined that they
understood and would forgive his neglect. He lay there for
awhile and listened to Svetlana's even breathing. Around 8 he
made her the simple breakfast he knew she liked complete with a
fresh brew of strong black coffee. Igor appeared in the kitchen
to fetch some cereal. Clearly he'd checked his Mother's room for
he gave Laurie a funny look before disappearing back to his room
to watch TV.


"Shto?" Svetlana sleepily enquired as Laurie returned with the
tray.


"Breakfast?" he smiled.


"Ah!" she grinned in delight. "Coffee!" and took the steaming
mug. Laurie slipped back into bed beside her. "You not work?"
she asked.


"No need," he replied.


"Ah!"


She ate the toast and cereal enthusiastically. Laurie liked
watching her until she embarrassingly wiped crumbs from her
mouth. He returned to his Weetbix.


The toast was dark with rye and molasses. Real Russian Black
Bread was nearly impossible to obtain but he'd found a
reasonable substitute through Mr Lee's Superette. The cunning
bastard charged him 5 bucks a loaf on top of the fee to the
Rural Delivery man. Svetlana slapped slabs of  gold butter over
the toast and crunched appreciatingly. She ate as if each meal
was going to be her last, Laurie thought.


She drained the coffee, strong enough to corrode the spoon, and
asked Laurie if he'd like another. Aready buzzing with the first
blast of caffeine he nevertheless nodded, not wanting to end the
little scene.


Through the wall he could hear her taking to her son in
Russian. Their voices were calm and domestic, suggesting Igor
was okay with his Mother spending the night with Laurie.
Presently she returned with the refills.


"Igor... he going to practice Motorcycle. Is OK?" she said.


"OK," he replied.


"He like... very much... bike. He want you to show him tractor."


"I will. Today!" he agreed. "Later," he added, pointedly.


"Da, later."


After breakfast he sought her hand, absently caressing it with
his thumb. Svetlana leaned against him and put her head against
his.


"Is quiet," she said, although Laurie could hear the distant
lowing of the herd returning from the milking shed. In the
country your hearing adjusts to the relative silence. Often it
takes city people some time before they notice the sounds.


He turned his face to hers and kissed her lightly on the lips.
They remained parted as his mouth left her so he returned for
another. Soon she settled back into the pillow as she accepted
his lips again. Her hands wormed their way under his T-shirt and
ranged firmly over his back. Laurie kissed her neck and down
into the 'V' of her robe. It parted willingly allowing his
tongue to continue on into the valley between her breasts.


He nibbled the soft smooth flesh before seeking out her
stiffening nipples. Svetlana gasped and tugged more urgently at
his shirt. He lifted his body so she could pull it over his
head. Laurie drew apart her robe to expose the pale softness of
her chest. Eagerly he took each nipple into his mouth in turn,
Svetlana holding his head in place against her.


She wriggled under him as he kissed lower and lower down her
body. The heat of her crotch drew him ever lower until his chin
scraped over the thin fabric of her panties. Svetlana gave a
start as he pressed his mouth over her mound, her legs shifting
uncertainly under the assault.


Her rounded bottom felt perfect beneath his hands as he
caressed the curves and felt for her waistband. He sensed her
sharp intake of breath as he peeled down her underwear to behold
the damp-matted, dark, pubic hair. Her scent of arousal filled
his nostrils as he drove his tongue down firmly into the open
gash of her sex.


Laurie was proud of his 'talent.' His ex-wife Judith had
coached him well on how to stimulate a woman. Svetlana gasped
and pushed her pussy at his face. She keened as he firmly worked
the bud of her clitoris. He sensed her hands pulling at her own
nipples and reached up to take over. Eventually he moved back up
to her to find her face glowing with perspiration. Her hair was
dishevelled and an errant lock was stuck to her cheek. Her dark
eyes glowed with excitement.


Svetlana rolled over on top of him and commenced her own
assault. Laurie shut his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of
her tongue as it travelled over his chest and flat nipples. He
stole a caress from her breast as she travelled down his body.
He felt his underwear being drawn down over his bulge and the
tip of her tongue on his stiff cock. She kissed and licked him
till he pulsed with urgency, whereupon she squeezed him until
he'd passed the crisis. Sliding back over his body she kissed
him passionately while rubbing her dripping pussy over his dick. 


"Wait!" Laurie croaked. Reaching out with his hand he searched
his drawer for a condom.


"No!" she gasped, "is OK!"


Firmly she reached down and guided him into her. His hands
gripped her arse cheeks as she undulated on top of him. She bit
his chest, pushed her hard nipples into his skin. Laurie boiled
to a crisis quickly after so-much anticipation but, sensing
this, she stopped and allowed him to calm down before continuing.


"Is good?" she asked.


"Da!" he replied.


"Ohhh," she ground herself against him. "Ohhh," she repeated
with increasing urgency. Laurie pulled her down and rolled her
over on to her back. She locked her legs over his back as he
hammered her quickly. "Ohhh, ohhh."


She gasped and moaned her pleasure, her hot breath blew over
his cheek. His own orgasm caught him unawares, suddenly
exploding his burning liquid deep inside her. She gave another
moan as she felt him leaking into her body and held him tight
till he'd subsided.


Later, after a shower together, they lay in bed and listened to
the Quad droning around and around the paddock. Eventually they
dressed and floated out onto the sun porch with juices and
sandwichs. Igor waved to them as he bounded the Quad around with
ever increasing confidence. Kids, he thought, are the same
anywhere.


After lunch John Hargood's wheezing old Hino truck appeared in
a cloud of dust and graunching gears. In the crate on the back
were 20 prime, fat Romney ewes.


"Wher'd ya want 'em?" he called, his eyes fixed on Svetlana.


"Put them in the house paddock for the time being. I'll sort
them out later," Laurie told him.


"Righto," he said then whistled to his dog. Backing the truck
into the paddock he looked at Laurie and shook his head. "Hey,"
he said, conspirationally, "how do I find that website?"


KATZMAREK(C)
