Sex without enlightenment. Why are there no sex education classes in Russian schools?

My father always seemed special to me. The most gentle, the kindest, the most affectionate. In a word, the very best. Until I was twelve or thirteen, I adored him as my father’s daughter. But then, after I started menstruating, my breasts began to grow, I... I realized that now I adore him not as a father, or rather, not only as a father...

It just so happened that we rarely saw our mother. Natalya Sergeevna was constantly on business trips, at meetings, or at business lunches. If my mother spent a day, maximum two, in the family circle, then almost all this time she did not let go of the telephone receiver, and her presence was rather visual. Her real estate company brought in a solid income, and like a real businesswoman, my mother had her whole day scheduled to the minute. Only the family was allocated, unfortunately, no more than the above-mentioned unit of time per day.

Her father was her complete opposite. He also worked as a security consultant in a large shopping complex. He earned decent money, but his earnings, of course, could not be compared with his wife’s income. And this is not happiness, he always said. So Irishka, my younger sister, and I were completely under the care of our father, who handled his responsibilities superbly. At the age of five, thanks to my father, I went to a modern dance school, studied with excellent marks, and did not lack parental affection. I grew up, and little by little I began to fulfill all the duties of my mother - my father's wife. I washed his clothes, cooked dinners, helped with Irishka. In the mornings, I tied my father’s tie, and kissed him on the cheek, wishing him good luck... By doing everything, I began to feel like not only his daughter. And now I looked at him not only as a father.

Now, at fifteen, I looked stunning. Long hair, an impeccable flexible figure (dancing lessons were not in vain), a cute, cheerful face. There was no end to the fans, but contrary to all expectations, I was in no hurry to get a boyfriend. If any of my fans aroused sympathy in me, then it was only sympathy. And what is sympathy compared to the wild feeling of love and adoration that I felt for the only man for me - my father. And he was truly worthy of this wild adoration. He didn't look like he was thirty-six at all. It looked much younger. Tall, long muscular legs, Strong arms. I often imagined how these hands slide over my body, touching my breasts, squeezing my hardened nipples with their fingers...

In the mornings, I still saw my father off, but the nature of the farewell changed. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pressed my whole body against him, feeling excited, gently touching his chin or neck with my lips. When I unclenched my arms and my father left, I felt that my pussy was already aroused. Walking into the bathroom, where there was the exciting smell of HIS aftershave, I worked myself into a frenzy, playing with my crotch and caressing my breasts. At these moments I forgot that it was my father, it was HIM, taking me in my imagination in bed, in the bathroom, on the floor...

And finally, one day, seeing my father naked through the crack of the slightly open door, I realized that I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I decided... I decided to seduce my father. The task was greatly simplified by my mother's departure for twenty days on her next business trip. The seduction has begun.

My father arrived that day, as always, at about six in the evening. I appeared before him in a transparent top and a short skirt, wearing panties that barely hid anything underneath. While setting the table, I turned this way and that, but it didn’t make much of an impression on my father. Even before this, I walked around the house without being at all embarrassed by him, and not in anything like this. After dinner, my father took a shower as usual, worked out with Irishka, and sat down on the sofa near the TV.

Sitting down, I pressed myself closely against him.
- Hug me, dad! - I pouted capriciously. - You haven't done this for so long! Don't you love your Ange?
Without saying anything, my father put his arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the top of my head.
- I love you. - He whispered quietly.

I felt myself slowly starting to get excited, feeling the proximity of such a beautiful and desirable body. Pressing myself even tighter, I threw one leg over his. The first waves of pleasure swept through my body, exciting my entire being. Oh gods, how I want him! A wild thought flashed through my head. But the father sat as if nothing had happened, feeling nothing, or giving no sign that he was feeling. I bent my leg, which was lying on his lap, and, as if by chance, ran it along his penis. Everything was calm there. But this didn’t make me feel any better; I grabbed his hand with mine and imperceptibly moved it onto my chest; from this touch, everything in my panties got wet. Not knowing how it would have ended if the phone had not rang. Having opened my arms, my father stood up and walked to the phone, and I, unable to restrain myself any longer, rushed into the bathroom and, caressing my breasts and pussy with two fingers, experienced a strong orgasm, followed by another.

When I lay down in bed, in my room, with Irishka quietly snoring next to me, I realized that I would not fall asleep. In my thoughts I saw my father undressing, lying down in his huge bed... And he was there completely alone. Excitement did not allow me to fall asleep, and I just seemed to fall into a black pool for some half an hour, only to then again spend an hour in the wild torment that was created by a body demanding love.

At three o'clock in the morning I gave up. Rising from the bed, I quietly made my way into my father’s room. My father was sleeping, lying on his back, and I literally felt his calm, measured breathing on my skin. The thin blanket was thrown aside, and his beautiful, masculine body, almost naked except for his swimming trunks, appeared before my eyes. Trembling with excitement, I slowly approached the bed and carefully sat down on its edge. Like my father, I was wearing only thin panties, and I felt the exciting coolness of the sheet on my delicate skin. Freezing for a moment to calm my wildly pounding heart, I reached out my hand and carefully touched my dad’s thigh, no reaction, still the same measured breathing. My palm slid forward more confidently and carefully touched his penis. The father groaned something, trembled with his whole body, but never woke up. Having completely moved onto the bed, I slowly lowered his swimming trunks, and his penis was revealed to my gaze, slightly raised from the flow of blood.

Carefully, so as not to wake my father, I took his penis and slowly began to massage it. He came to life right before our eyes, rising and increasing in size. Once again, wild excitement overwhelmed me, I carefully leaned forward and took his penis into my mouth. New sensations took over me, making me moan quietly with pleasure. I gave a blowjob quietly, carefully, trying not to wake up my dad, massaged his testicles with one hand, and excited myself with the other. My father moaned in his sleep, trembled slightly and screamed something, apparently he was having an erotic dream at that time, I understood that he could wake up at any moment, but I couldn’t stop, and I didn’t want to. Every now and then my body was shaken by orgasms, coming in waves one after another, and while my father came, shooting sperm straight into my throat, I probably came about ten times. Exhausted, but happy, I went to my room and fell into a deep, sound sleep.

The next day, on Saturday, my father got up later than usual, I met him in the kitchen in a short red robe, under which I wore nothing at all. Eating your favorite semolina porridge, my father kept looking at me with some strange eyes.
“Listen, Ange,” he finally decided, “didn’t you have any, hmm, well, uh... Strange dreams last night?”
- No, daddy. - Making innocent eyes, I answered, - Did you dream about something?

Suddenly embarrassed, the father began to quickly compose some absurd story about how he saw some old friend in a dream, and some other rubbish. But I understood the main thing, he saw me in a dream. More true than yourself and me. And realizing this, I realized that I was starting to win.

Sitting down so that he could clearly see me, I shamelessly crossed my legs, not caring at all that poor dad’s eyes were popping out of his head at the views. His flaring interest was clearly confirmed by a huge bulge in his pants, which he could not show to me in all its glory by simply standing up. And I enjoyed it, keeping him in the kitchen longer than usual, chatting about all sorts of trifles. Having had my fill, I went into my room, and my father threw on his jacket and flew out of the house like a bullet. I achieved my main goal, he saw me as a woman, not a daughter, he saw me by accident, in a dream, and yet it happened.

In the evening, my father arrived as usual, hearing the squeaking brakes of his Volvo, I jumped into the bathroom, took off my shorts and top, and after wetting myself in the shower, taking a towel in my hand, I waited until the door clicked barely audibly. Swimming naked out of the shower, I found myself right in front of my father as he entered. With pleasure, I noticed how quickly he ran through my charms, and how he became hot.

Without much haste, I went to my room and closed the door. As I listened, I heard his ragged breathing and muttering in the hallway about “a crazy girl who was leading him to sin,” and I smiled contentedly.

Meeting my father in the kitchen, I put on my robe again and pulled up my thin panties underneath. Dad came out of the shower, dressed in his favorite shorts and T-shirt.
“Listen, daughter,” he said casually, “We need to talk to you a little.”
“I have all your attention, daddy,” sitting down opposite him, I didn’t seem to notice the robe slipping from my hips. - What did you want to talk about?
“You see, Ange,” he tried to start, “Remember, we talked to you about the fact that you are already a girl, and I can no longer bathe you, and so on...
“Yes, daddy, I remember,” I confirmed and crossed my legs, exposing them even more.
- Well, uh... - the father squeezed out, suddenly choking, - you know, you could wear things at home, how to put it... Well... More hidden than you, or something.

I saw how hard this conversation was for my father, and I had a lot of fun with it.
- Why? “I inquired innocently, and immediately regretted it, my father was clearly baffled by this question.
- Well, this is necessary... In order for, well... - The father, who already regretted starting this conversation, began to mumble.
- Dad! - I exclaimed, - Don’t you want to say that I excite you?
- No!!! What you? - He suddenly exclaimed sharply, - How did this come into your head? Of course not.
- Well then, what's the question? - I laughed and disappeared into my room.

Father didn’t answer, he just finished his tea and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
After dinner the three of us; I, my father and Irishka sat down to watch TV. Irishka pressed herself against dad on one side, and I on the other, constantly touching him with my breasts and my bare leg. The result was not long in coming. Dad's sports shorts began to be pulled back by a certain excited organ. Irishka was completely absorbed in the cartoon, and I was completely absorbed in myself and my father. Laying my head on his shoulder, I barely touched his neck with my lips and felt how he trembled from these caresses, and the mound in his shorts increased in size. My father's breathing hitched and he became tense. To my disappointment, traditional for the three of us" Good night", flashed by unnoticed, and my father, taking Irishka, went to put her to bed. I didn’t leave the TV, clicking the channels on the remote control, but I didn’t see anything there, I was waiting for my father to return, when I could cling to him again with my burning body But today he was in no hurry, it seemed Irishka was falling asleep, and his voice, so sweet, flowed readable fairy tales, like an entire infinity.

Finally, Irishka fell asleep, and my father came out, but, looking at me, for some reason he said that today I needed to go to bed early and moved towards his room. I answered that today it would be possible to go to bed later and spend time with my daughter, who hardly sees her mother, and now her father is also running away. But the father stubbornly replied that he would go to bed, but tomorrow he was ready to spend the whole day with his daughters. Having heard about this, I agreed, and a plan was born in my head that would finally lead me to victory.

Having persuaded my sister the next morning, I announced to my father that we wanted to swim in the pool. We had a pretty decent pool, not very deep, but we were delighted with it. The father agreed, only noted that it would be after lunch, since it still needed to be filled. Until the specified time, I loitered near the pool, watching how my waist-high dad worked, admiring his desirable body, and helping as best I could, either by bringing a hose or handing over the keys...

The father was wrong with his calculations, and the pool was filled enough to swim in only at four o’clock in the evening. Taking my sister with me, I dressed her in a swimsuit, and changed myself. The swimsuit I chose would be called “strings” in some literature. He revealed my charms more than he hid them, making me twice as erotic and desirable. When I approached the pool, Irishka was already splashing there with all her might, splashing her laughing father as he pushed her swimming tank. How beautiful he was at that moment, how desirable. Feeling his gaze on me, I took off my robe in one motion and appeared before dad in my new outfit. His laughter faltered for a moment, but then came again. Mentally, I already knew that today he would be mine. Today and not a day later...

Jumping into the water, I found myself next to Irishka and my father, joining their fun. The three of us had a lot of fun, then Irka and I even tried to “drown” my father, as a result of which I almost had an orgasm while touching his body, and he also seemed pretty excited. Around six Irishka unsuccessfully dived from the edge of the pool and swallowed water. Clearing her throat, she stated that she was tired and did not want to swim anymore. I told my father that I could handle it quite well on my own, and slipped out of the water, my swimsuit wet through, now hiding absolutely nothing, neither my dark nipples nor my clean-shaven pussy. My father was clearly stunned by this sight, and when I looked into his eyes, I saw desire there, even though he immediately lowered his gaze.
- Don’t go daddy, I’ll be quick. - I whispered to him and went into the house with Irka.

When I returned, my father was indeed still in the pool, and again he scorched me with an adoring gaze. A bottle of red wine appeared in his hands, which he apparently took from the bar. I slowly slipped into the water. We were both silent, slowly moving around the pool, not shortening or increasing the distance between each other, getting closer only to pass each other a bottle of wine. When it was empty, I stood up to put it on the tiles framing the pool, but it slipped out of my hands and, hitting the railing of the stairs, broke. Instinctively stepping to the side, I took another step towards the stairs, realizing that walking through a pool full of glass was dangerous, and at that moment I felt a sharp pain in my foot. With a quiet cry, I reached for my leg, but couldn’t keep my balance and began to fall. At that moment, I felt my father’s strong arms, picking me up. My father took me in his arms and left the pool. Laying me on a blanket spread on the grass, he took my foot and carefully removed a small shard of glass from it.
- It's okay, Ange, just a small scratch. - My father calmed me down, - Now I’ll bring the first aid kit and...

Catching my gaze, he looked at his erect penis. Without wasting any time, I sat up, grabbed my father’s neck with both hands, and kissed him passionately, dissolving in the heat of his body. He froze for a while, then even responded to my kiss, but then he pulled me away from him.
- What are you doing, Ange? - He asked with a prayer in his voice, - You are my daughter.
- I want you Daddy! “I said confidently, “I’ve wanted it for a long time, I love you, no, not like my father’s daughter.” Because a woman loves a man.
- Why? - He was sincerely surprised, - Why can’t you find someone the same age as you? Guy?
- Because I love you, Dad! - Almost crying from the surging feelings, I answered, - I love...

I pressed my whole body against him again, pressing my lips into his, and he could not resist. The father gave up. His hands closed around my waist. And I stroked his desired body, covering it with kisses. What I lacked in experience, I more than made up for in my passion. Having pulled down my father's swimming trunks, I grabbed his petrified penis and began to slowly jerk it off, drowning in my dad's hot kisses. Sanity hung literally by a thread over the abyss of madness. His tender skillful hands slowly studied my body, sliding over it with confident movements. When his fingers reached my bare pussy, I could not hold back a long loud moan, his fingers dived under a strip of thin fabric and, making sure that I was aroused, slowly slid inside. But suddenly the father pulled his hand away.
- You're a virgin. - He whispered quietly in my ear, kissing it tenderly.
- I saved myself for you. - I answered him in the same tone. “Take me, I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered passionately, and he listened to me.

Turning me over onto my stomach, my father told me to rise up and bend my knees, which I did, placing my outstretched arms on the ground.
- Don't worry, it won't hurt you, I know what I'm doing! - My Daddy whispered.
And he really knew and therefore was in no hurry. He kissed me from behind, caressed my breasts, ran his dick along my pussy, as if trying it on.
- Come on! - I shouted, already on the verge of frenzy. It seemed to me that if he didn’t push his dick into me now, everything inside me would catch fire.

But he did not listen to me, continuing his gentle caresses, and I could only moan and squirm, waiting for him to enter me. But he did not enter, not stopping his caresses for a moment, and I completely surrendered to his hands, forgetting about everything. After running his penis over my excited pussy several times, he plunged the head of his penis into it, and finally drove it inside me. It was difficult for me to unravel the bundle of feelings that flared up that I experienced at the same time. As soon as he had to enter me, I screamed, no, not from pain, from an orgasm that shook me all over. But the father did not even think about stopping. Slowly, without inserting his penis all the way, he began to develop my pussy. My father didn’t lie, I felt almost no pain, only a hitherto unknown feeling of pleasure... With my vagina tightly fitting his penis, I felt all his movements inside me. Now the father accelerated, and his organ began to plunge to its full length. Involuntary moans escaped through my clenched teeth, which I was no longer able to stop. Leaning forward, my father began to bite my neck, while caressing my tender tits, a minute of such caresses, and I again screamed from a powerful orgasm, so much so that the neighbor’s dog barked.

Taking out his penis, which was generously lubricated by mine and his eruptions, my father pushed me, and I obediently lay on my back, spreading my legs wide, and he entered me again, causing a new surge of pleasure. In this position, I began to respond to his caresses, moving towards him. After three minutes of such caresses, we both came at the same time, I felt a powerful stream of hot sperm shooting into my vagina, and waves of wild orgasm surged again. Hugging each other tightly, we came for a long time, listening to the echoes of orgasm in each other’s body. For about ten more minutes we lay on the blanket, wet from sweat and discharge, caressing each other.
- Did you feel good? - Father asked carefully.
- Like never before, Daddy. - I answered sincerely.
- You will not regret? - he asked again.
- I will never regret this. “I answered without thinking and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

I spent two unforgettable weeks in my father's arms. We loved each other day and night, my father forgot about work, I forgot about school. We calmed down only while Irishka was nearby. But as soon as she fell asleep, or went to school... Every time we threw ourselves at each other as if we hadn’t fucked for ten years, no less. But seventeen days later, the father said that the mother was coming tomorrow. And that when she arrives, we will have to stop, and not continue this anymore. And I agreed. I will probably never forget our last night. There was so much tenderness that night, so much love that it still lives in my heart. And this really turned out to be our last night. Then my mother arrived. She seemed to sense something and began to visit home more often. I soon had a boyfriend, whom I later married. He really reminded me of my beloved daddy.

Now I am already twenty-eight years old. I have a wonderful husband and two children, Lenochka and Pavel. We see our parents often. My father still looks younger than his age, and I still love him... After our last night, we didn’t have sex anymore, and we never even mentioned it when we were alone. Only once, quite recently, did he cover his hand with mine.
- Tell me, Ange, do you remember? - He asked quietly.
- I remember. I remember it like it was yesterday. - I answered quietly.
- You will not regret? - He asked again.
“I regret that it ended so quickly, and that fate made you and me father and daughter.” - I answered - After all, I still love you.

Esquire publishes Gleb Vasilyevich Alekseev’s story “Dunka’s Happiness.”

The collection includes prose, poetry, plays by Vladimir Mayakovsky, Andrei Platonov, Alexei Tolstoy, Evgeny Zamyatin, Nikolai Zabolotsky, Panteleimon Romanov, Leonid Dobychin, Sergei Tretyakov, as well as works of the twenties, which are being republished for the first time and have long become a bibliographic rarity.

From the compiler

“The texts of this book talk about the era of NEP, the suicide epidemic and the fashion for free love, and not at all about party discussions, industrial breakthroughs and the fight against the kulaks. And if it seems to someone that we are reprinting texts from a hundred years ago in pursuit of strawberries, well, citizens, it seemed that way to some people even then. Meanwhile, the writers talked about what they saw: about how, in an era that follows great changes, people rush into depravity and death, because they are again convinced of the fatal slowness human nature, in its vile and saving immutability.

Gleb Alekseev ( 1892–1938 ) (The anthology includes two works: the story “The Case of the Corpse” and the story “Dunka’s Happiness.” - Esquire) wrote quite a lot, and his prose is interesting not only as evidence of the era; His most famous novel is “Underground Moscow,” about the search for the library of Ivan the Terrible. But the best thing he wrote were satirical novels and stories about the second half of the twenties, among which “Dunka’s Happiness” stands out, a tale no worse than Zoshchenko, with very colorful details.”

I, my dear, have such a proletarian origin - even the most surprising is what a purebred proletarian I am. Such a proletarian, such a proletarian - you won’t find a single suspicious blood in our entire family. Both from the mother and from the father. All his childhood he was engaged in selective farming, and his father-in-law even died as a shepherd. Zakhar Kuzmich used to tell him - there was a shopkeeper in our village about thirty years ago, a terrible fist: “If only you could sell tar, or something,” he would say, “what kind of life is it: twisting the tails of cows.” And my father-in-law responded: “Well, how can I say, Zakhar Kuzmich, as soon as the cow turns around, you pull her tail, and she turns around.” And there it came out - how they turned around! He was an amazing, conscientious old man, and he used to sniff tobacco and remain silent, and from him I also became mysteriously accustomed to being silent. That’s how we all turned out to be our grandfathers - firmly committed to our class, but what a life in the village! Now and then I’ll begin to remember my life from the very cradle - would you believe it, my dear, my heart will ache so much, it will become cold, like a caught chick... We lived up to our eyebrows in the snow, and in the summer you could hang yourself in a field with melancholy: I can’t hold back There are no us in the fields, except for the sky... And the economy is again ordinary - no, one might say, economy: a little horse - you carry more carts on yourself, you just bought a cow before the German war; Yes, unfortunately, they didn’t take their father into the mobilization - many of our women took a break from their children during the war, well, however, the father stayed, and children began to be born here one after another, and more girls... The mother used to only walk around with a belly and cry : “And to whom am I giving birth to you, the catechumens?..” Of course, they died, but still five remained, taking turns fitting into the same clothes. And I nursed them all and grew up like this until I was sixteen - from one cradle to another, nurturing my sisters, and the only joy that happened was that you would go into the field, and our field, I say, is terrible, huge, from Green The settlement rushes into the ravines, and along the ravines there are bushes - I pick flowers there, some kind of chicken blind, Ivan da Marya, wild bird cherry and wander again in confusion to my cradles. And it was very painful for me when you approach your hut with flowers in your hands, and the fence is broken, a wheel is lying under the barn, the window in the hut is covered with a pillow, and in the yard, like worms in the dust, are my beautiful sisters...

I used to think about my human fate like this - the most scary thing: what thoughts come into my head! I started to think very early: my mother’s life - here it is, before my eyes... I look at her in her yellow blouse - the priest gave her for mopping the floors, she spent her entire life in that blouse - I look at her like she’s a potato she sorts or cleans the dung from under a cow - her hands are black, tied in knots, her face is waxy - straight out of a painting of the Last Judgment, not a single tooth remains, she chews with her whole wallet, and only one stomach is heavy in her. I look at her and cry: “Oh, oh my, girl, isn’t this the kind of happiness that awaits me, my destiny is piercing through my mother’s eyes.” And I was a wonderful girl; I was good; I’ve been drinking, I’ve been there, the guys just gape, they stand as if they’ve been scalded; My braid is the envy of all the girls; and she was wonderfully agile in her hands: could she move pots in the oven, cast iron with linen? And in the field with a sickle I’ll go ahead of everyone else, and I’ll crash like a river into the hot rye. But what is it for, beauty in a village house? In the village you can’t change your fate with beauty... And I began to think and reflect; I’ve been sitting on a heap, rocking Alenka or Manka, the chickens are scratching the ground at my feet, they’re also begging for their lives, there’s no one in the house: they’ve left for mowing, the sun warms my cheek with tears, and before my eyes there’s a fog - a harmful fog, like on a river, it rises, and I feel so terrified in broad daylight, as if in the evening I was alone in the river, in Devil’s Yar, swimming. Wow, you field, a big field, oh, you are my unknown fate!.. And she, fate, is very famous, what a fate in the village! - everyone lived in front of their neighbors, everyone knows in advance what awaits him. So, I think, I’ll get married, I’ll give birth in vain, and I’ll be long and scary, and my eyes will roll over, like in an icon, and I’ll have ankle boots and a shawl hidden in my chest, and I’ll wear them on holidays, - and my eyes will become dim from that thought, and it will become so scary that it’s as if I haven’t lived, but have already lived - such is our fate in our village, everyone knows our fate! say: “Don’t put too much hope in me, he says, because I have a lot of you growing up, too much life is rising around me, and you, he says, are already a girl of marriageable age, but time is now very independent, and you yourself may be right.” achieve from life, and your wealth only lies in your maiden saucer if, for example, you have it whole.” I realized then that he was hinting at a horse: “I won’t give you a horse, as soon as you get married, don’t expect it,” and I became even more sad. If only I could get out of the village somewhere, I think, and then my life will appear new part, and I won’t have my mother’s treasured chest, and she already emptied that chest to collect my dowry, and doesn’t see, of course, that I look at that chest with tears, that my prison is hidden in it.

« Mama, - I say - don’t collect your chest for me, I have something else in my dreams...«

“You’re a fool,” he replies, “Natalka is starting to stare at that chest, the girl is fourteen years old... why are you giving up your happiness?”

“Mama,” I say, and I myself cry like a pure spring stream, “there is no happiness for me at the bottom of your chest... All my life I have been watching and waiting for my opportunity to break free from our village... And I know,” I say, “more about that “that everywhere, except for our backward village, a large settlement is given to women, and each attracts her own destiny.”

How she jumps up, and I see: her tears began to flow, and her eyes were watching me, but only I calmly told her:

“You, Mama, don’t hesitate... unbroken, I carry on my maiden business subtly, but as soon as I swore to myself over the river, swore over the pool, I see: the old woman begins to tremble, and I cut to the end: - I swore, Mama, over the dark that whirlpool that you would rather be in a whirlpool than live your life and go blind from tears...”

“We,” he answers, “lived an honest peasant life, here it is,” he says, “my hand, my hoof,” he says, “I haven’t unclenched all my life, so I’ll die with a sickle, I always ate my labor piece...”

“About that,” I answer, “mama, no one will contradict you, about that now the workers’ peasant power has been given, but only life moves forward, and I don’t agree with half-boots and a half-shawl...”

“What do you agree to,” he asks, “you miserable fool?”

“My mind knows about that,” I say, “about that my heart beats like a sparrow...”

Here she spills the beans:

“You shouldn’t be harboring hope, Dunyushka, but your father won’t give you a horse and harness... Petyashka, he says, a horse... Petyashka and harness...”

I see that she is looking very far into the depths, and I myself think: “Okay, maybe I don’t need your horse, but let it be your way”... And since that conversation her voice has become very picky, she doesn’t even look at me , we’ll sit down for dinner - he tries to take a piece of it, he’ll say two words and choke on the third...

“...Don’t hesitate, Grunushka, pour some more coffee and put some sugar on top... we don’t need that now...”

I was so languid - don’t know! - a year or two, but still she waited for her happiness. A priest came to our priest, who gave his mother a jacket for the skirts, she was a midwife in Moscow, just at the very revolution she left us and said to her priest very cruelly: “You, she says, have hurt me forever with your origins, and alone I The path in life remains - to be a midwife, to engage in free profession.”

So she was a midwife, and - it was heard - she lives luxuriously in Moscow, and is married to a stage performer, and wears high-heeled boots in vain on weekdays.

Yes, apparently, his daughter’s heart could not bear it: when the priest began to get sick and, in Soviet times, to wave his scythe in the field - she came to visit him in the summer, and I see: she is wearing a cast-iron hat, and a yellow jacket, and boots, indeed, on high heels - so he scratches them right into the dirt. There was a woman walking through the village in the evening - they’re driving your herd here, it’s a dusty place, sheep are pushing their faces into the gates, the most damned suffering - she walks like that, and I understand that she really pities us villagers, out of her pride she pities: then she would pat a child on the head, then one day she came to deliver a child from a woman in labor, a very difficult case in practice, she said, because of the wrong pelvis, and the woman who gave birth the next day brought her a chicken, and she didn’t take that chicken, and I was completely upset about that incident. And so I could see her darling as if in the palm of my hand, and I began to think that the chance of my life had come - there he was, walking through the village, fanning himself from the dust with a handkerchief, and, believe me, a girl? - I got to that point in my thoughts - when I saw her, I would tremble all over for no reason, my hands would tremble, and in my eyes it was as if someone was riding on wheels of fire. I started calling her to myself: “There, Dunyushka, your planet is coming, your happiness travels with a handkerchief”... Well, after some time, I dared to talk to her. She will go out somewhere to a meadow or to a river - to spend time in her dream, and here I am: I am also walking, as if I have nothing to do, and Petya in the cradle is not screaming like a catechumen, what the hell!..

“Hello,” I say politely, “Klavdia Ivanovna!” The weather today is very lovely..."

She will smile sideways and pick up her tinted lips:

“For some reason, Dunyushka, you’ve begun to notice the weather... this,” he says, “is not good... We,” he says, “people, don’t notice the weather until our hearts are touched...”

I see that she speaks wonderfully, but, of course, I’m not giving any guesses.

“What kind of heart do we have,” I say? .. Mom and Dad don’t ask us about our hearts...”

“Ali,” he says, “is it time to ask?”

“There,” I think, “where are you going?” I immediately understood: he was giving a hint about Andryushka, but still I was pursuing my line.

“Our,” I say, “a girl’s destiny is like a berry in a field! One day for it to bloom... All, I say, is our village beauty, even if anyone has it, it will be destroyed in one day... Our fate is bitter, like wormwood grass, and we have no way out of our fate...”

“Well,” he asks, “do you look at your life so sadly in your younger years? Everyone is a blacksmith of his own life. “Everyone,” he says, “arranges it as best he can!” - and for no reason she looks at the blade of grass, and I see: a tear is hanging from her eye; Jokingly, she wiped away her tears with a handkerchief.

“A blacksmith,” I think, “a blacksmith, and here you are crying!” It’s not very easy, to forge life, this is not some kind of horseshoe for you”... I’m telling you, girl, frankly, I was terribly smart at that time and I understood every thought, as if I saw it with my own eyes...

“Not a horseshoe, you say? - She said this quietly, and then laughed for no reason and threw the handkerchief. - Let's go to the river to swim! Let’s swim like two mermaids!”

We arrived at Devil's Yar, I undressed, and she remarked:

“You have a very beautiful body... a lot,” he says, “from my practice I see bodies and I came to such a sad conclusion that a woman rarely has a beautiful body... And if it does happen, only in the village...”

“So,” I answer, “should we drink tea from our bodies, or what?” My mother was the first beauty in the village, but what has my mother become now?”

“Don’t appreciate,” he says, “you are beauty... you slept through the riddle of life, and it is the only real truth...
“You have,” he says, “here is open space, forests, birds are singing; with you,” he says, “happiness lives under every blade of grass, with every butterfly it flies from flower to flower and hides in the river like a mermaid!”

She took off her lace shirt, the robes were stitched through, I noticed: thin, skinny, and two breasts, as if, God forgive me, a dog’s tits, hanging...

And I, you know myself: my chest is like an axe, I’m strong, I was good...

“I envy you,” he says, “Dunyushka, I really envy your primeval beauty...”

And that’s when I laughed.

“And I,” I say, “envy you, Klavdia Ivanovna...” she said, and she became completely cold...

“Why,” he asks, “are you jealous?”

“Because your life is wonderful, that you live in the city of your own free will, not on your husband’s back, like a cockroach on a dog’s tail...”

She wilted like a flower and answered sadly:

“Before, people lived better in mansions... ours,” he says, “a woman’s happiness is found in a mansion...”

I didn’t understand why she was pointing out about the tower, but we just became kind of like friends: we always go together, whether to the forest to pick berries or mushrooms, to go to the fields to reap... And we developed such a friendship, as if we were with her sisters, and so it turned out that it was as if I was the eldest, and she was the youngest, like Natalka, and she kept telling me, it happened: “With your lips, life itself says: field, forest and river, and you yourself don’t understand how everything Amazing!" Of course, I also pretend to be a fool, assenting about flowers, but in reality I very much understand what my speeches mean and where I am leading. But, of course, I don’t show it to her, and in fact I became very attached to her and got a tough conversation from daddy for her. “What,” she shouts at me, “she’s a canpania for you, you,” he says, “are of marriageable age, you should think about your business, and not sharpen your lasses in vain!” “Daddy,” I answer, “everyone is the smith of his own happiness, and my heart says that Claudia Ivanovna will bring me happiness, and don’t stop me from grabbing my chance with both hands!” “What a blessing, are you going to give birth?” At that time he began to think about my affairs with Andryushka - and it’s true, I liked Andryushka very much, but just like me, he was a rolling loaf, and he kept walking around near our hut: he would ask for an ax, then to break off a braid, or something else... “No,” I answer, “darling, don’t shake with fear, I won’t disgrace you with my fate, you won’t have to run around the village in a collar with your mother” - you yourself know how ironic it is for parents in collars if the girl is not whole... However, nothing ! I didn’t have anything like this with Andryushka, I had the dream of shackling my life in advance, and then they, Andryushka, as many as you like, just whistle...

She and I became like some kind of friends, walking around the field in an embrace, picking flowers and berries or singing. It used to be that I would be filled with a nightingale in the forest, I would grab at all my breasts - only a groan would go through the forest, the birds would fall silent: birds really love to listen to human songs. She will sit under a bush wherever necessary, prop up her thin face with her hands and listen and listen, as if lifeless. I understand, of course, that she has her own grief on her chest - I burst into tears even more pitifully, reaching to the very bottom with a song. She will cry, and I cry with her, but I myself don’t know what! And once I brought her a letter from the post office - she was lying on the bank under an umbrella, sadly watching how spiders hovered in the water and did not drown - she grabbed that letter, trembling, her face was twisted, and she was afraid to open it.

“Have you brought me life or death? - he asks me, but doesn’t look me in the eye, as if I know what the letter is written about. “Open it,” he shouts, “open it yourself.”

I opened that letter, she looked with a tenacious eye, like she would throw herself on my neck! “I will never forget this wonderful moment,” he shouts! And suddenly she became completely weak, lay down on the grass, barely breathing. “Kiss me,” he says, “you kiss me, harder, to drink my soul!” I kissed her, she thrashes in my arms like a lamb and closes her eyes. And I, of course, think to myself: “Well, the decisive day of life has finally come, I need to forge a horseshoe, she will leave now, she will definitely go back to Moscow, and I will stay to rock the cradles!” - I thought so, I’ll roar...

“Why are you crying,” he says, “my sister? Now we need to rejoice!”

And I, through tears:

“You will leave, Klavdia Ivanovna, and you will forget about all our flowers, I will remain to forge my unwise happiness, and will be wrapped in my mother’s and my cradles for the rest of my life, and my soul, which, perhaps, also has a dream, will wither...”

“Stupid,” he answers and laughs, “you’re stupid... come to me, I’ll even arrange it for you... Here,” he says, “is my address, if you’re unbearable, write me a letter.” “I,” he says, “maybe thanks to you, have not made up my mind... But is goodness forgotten?”

And that's all I need. I hid the address away, and from that day we began to prepare for departure. I walk as if unwashed, looking sadly into her eyes, otherwise I’ll bury my face in my knees and cry.

And then she quickly left...

“...Hold on, I’ll make some coffee. You, girl, don’t refuse, and I’ll drink a cup with you in company.”

That’s how she left Zelenaya Sloboda, but for me, do you believe it? - it’s like a star has set. It is, of course, possible, and I would have lived out my life in Zelenaya Sloboda, and, probably, I would have lived out a good life... Well, I would have married Andryushka, well, I would have pulled the nets from my father’s horse with a collar - now even a woman in the village is given male rights , - No! After Klavdia Ivanovna left, a dream came into my head with all its impossibility, I can’t look at our life with composure, and that’s all! I go out into the field - the sickle in my hands is woven with a rope, it’s like some devil is whispering in my ear, and all her shoes are flickering in her eyes. And I began to lash out at the kids in vain: you’re not enough of a mother, you’re sucking me! You've kicked that one, you've combed that one with nettles, and then bitter grief fell on my poor little head, like dew on a flower... Andryushka flattered me! To this day, I can’t really understand why this misfortune happened, but I just went with him into the forest along the brushwood, and he violated me, an orphan, in vain...

And just to say: the first mocker in the village and an accordion player, always neat in appearance, varnished boots, an open shirt, and brought wonderful bell-bottom trousers from the war...

“Don’t hesitate,” he says, “if anything happens, I can marry you!”

“Herod,” I tell him, “you Herod, you son of a bitch, but every person will marry me, that’s why there are no girls opposite me in the whole area, but it’s my dream that’s stopping me from whileing away my time with you...”

“What is your dream,” he asks, “Evdokia Stepanovna?” Maybe your dream fits mine, because I,” he says, “is also not a scoundrel in my life, and even looked closely at her, the dog, during my military-civil exploits...”

“Why is this,” I ask him coolly, “did you take a closer look, you scoundrel?”

“I,” he answers, “always, when I had to go into a deadly battle face to face with a person - either in some German trench, or in my civilian exploits - always,” they say, “when you press him, the son of a bitch, to the gravestone - you always strive, it happened, to turn his soul inside out...

What is he like, touchless? “In general,” she says, “Evdokia Stepanovna, I adhere to the view that the soul is steam: how many of these souls have I ruined, but I haven’t seen anything good about it…”

And he blows smoke over his mustache and casually hits his patent leather boot with a twig.

And then I realized: he’s an infected guy, all of them, the Herods, came from the war dim and can’t find the right path.

“No,” I say, “Andrei Mikhalych, you and I have a common path, you need to settle down, but my road to another dream lies, for me,” I say, “everything needs to start with a shirt, not to mention ankle boots... but there was, - I say, “I have only one wealth - my maiden honor, and you deprived me of that for nothing!”

“Well,” he answers, “this wealth is not surprising, if,” he says, “what’s wrong?” I’m always ready to keep an answer, and I can marry you with full respect, as if, he says, “you are not broken and have kept yourself intact... »

And, of course, he takes aim: how can he put the matter down without causing a scandal? And tell me, my dear girl, I understood perfectly well about men’s inconstancy and the value of them, males, I knew, but I succumbed like a chicken... But it only turned out that my bitter grief turned to my joy...

Oh, and I fought for my happiness! With my teeth, Grunushka, I pulled out a piece of it with my nails, so that it would come, like a red sun, and warm my orphan life... And then I would say: look how I live now - I even have a piano in the corner unnecessarily, but now you want a gramophone I’ll tell you about the artist Varya Panina, who sings very wonderfully “I decorated our corner with flowers”...

So, one autumn evening, when I took my daddy to the city from the village tax office and returned completely drunk and even without his last boots, I collected my belongings, walked around our yard - saw him for the last time - and walked twenty-three versts to the stop on foot, yes to Moscow and straight to Claudia Ivanovna, and right at her feet - she came out in a white robe into the front room, - I grabbed her cold knees and was crying and killing myself: “I came to you,” I sob, “I came to my guardian angel, I have nowhere else to go, send me away - it’s all the same!” She was very surprised: “How come,” she said, “you, Dunyushka, are without a letter? You should send me a letter, we have such overcrowding of people in Moscow that you don’t even have a place to spend the night, and what are you going to do in Moscow? No,” she says, “it’s absolutely impossible that she arrived without a letter!” I, of course, sob sincerely, swallow my bitter tears, and I myself think: “If I had written a letter, nothing would have happened,” she forgot about the flowers and berries, she would never have allowed her to come by letter!..” But she arrived! - come what may! “Claudia Ivanovna,” I say, “don’t ruin me, I don’t have a single good soul in the world except you! Remember,” I say, “I brought you happiness in a letter, maybe now I bring happiness... I,” I say, “here, in your front room, I’ll fit on a chest, like a dog I’ll guard you!” She looked with an unseeing eye, I see: she’s thinking to herself, I can’t understand what, but she says: “Okay, now let’s go drink tea, Dunyushka, you really surprised me with your arrival, you fell out of the blue”...

Indeed, I have a very decisive character: anything will get into my head - there’s no way to get it out of there, it drills and drills, presses on my very soul until I achieve my goal.

She and I are entering into this very room, I stopped at the threshold and couldn’t take my eyes off it. “Lord,” I say, “how luxuriously some people live!” No worse than yours; sat down on the sofa, and I’m afraid to sit down, I’m sitting on the edge and looking like a fool at the piano, and she says: “You, Dunyushka, wait a minute, I have a secret pregnant woman at the reception, I’ll instantly lose my temper, we’ll sit together to our heart’s content.” and let’s remember all our golden days in Green Sloboda... and if,” he says, “it was my will, I would run away from the city without looking back at the natural womb, I would live with all my breast, as I live!” Well, of course, take it from her: she’s a city girl, she didn’t understand our peasant life... “Flowers, oh, what wonderful flowers!” - and we, I suppose, don’t even see these flowers, even though we live in flowers up to our eyebrows...

She was relaxed about the secret, we were sitting with her, drinking tea with bagels, of course, she put crackers in that vase, and I noticed that her face had brightened, she had gotten used to me, which means she had an idea works, then, for my mill: how and what! - and then soon her husband came, he flies in with some kind of fervor - and the jacket is flared, and the trousers, of course, are striped, and the bow on the shoulder lies like a ribbon, and I’ll tell you straight out - the figure is small, the only thing is that the look is piercing , and already drunk, and says, grinning:

“What kind of bird is this?”

“No,” Klavdia Ivanovna replies, “not a bird, but Dunyushka from Zelenaya Sloboda, and I told you about her,” and she herself looks at him, squinting her eyes, but I see that she’s squinting for me again, not evil, but with love... “Well,” I think, “my delicate work is not lost after all, my work is coming out just right...” He became like a statue and said:

“Dunyushka, so Dunyushka, I don’t particularly care about this... And give me a tailcoat and patent leather boots from the top chest, and also,” he says, “it’s time to find the cufflinks that proletarian students gave me in the city of Lipetsk for my role, them,” says, “I would like to wear it in plain sight as a souvenir!” And arrange your Dunyushka as you want, so I,” he says, “am very calm-blooded about this issue, and at the same time I’m in a hurry...”

He went into another room to change clothes, and from there, I look, he’s rushing straight at me in nothing but pink underpants. However, he washed himself in the bathroom, anointed himself with cologne, and - as soon as he got dressed - he didn’t even look anything at all, handsome, but only, of course, where would he go? Andryushka is against him - puny, withered, like last year's chaff.

But mine laughs like a woman’s laugh and puts a handkerchief in his pocket.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he says!

He, of course, loves attention; he stands up on his tiptoes, as if in a theater, waving his hand:

“Adye, sir, stay happy!”

Well, I wasn’t born a fool either, now I’m in the hallway, grabbed his coat and handed it to him.

“Look,” he says, “there were no servants, and it seems like there are servants!..”

So I stayed with them: either a girlfriend or a servant, and we got along very well. I used to get up in the morning - it’s early, they’re sleeping - he came from the theaters late, he played roles there wonderfully and was always drunk, you rarely see her in the evenings either - I’ll get up in the morning, tidy everything up, clean my shoes - at first they were very embarrassed that I I clean my shoes, and I reassured him: “It’s no problem for me,” I say, “at the same time, I keep my ankle boots clean!” - I’ll start the samovar, and by twelve the patients are knocking, first one, then the other, and very cleverly, in the speed of time, I learned to talk to these patients. “I ask you to wait, our doctor was very tired yesterday at the reception of secret pregnant women and is still sleeping, but they will see you soon!” Well, of course, I’m lying - she was at the theater yesterday, watched as Mishenka played her role, and then in the front hall she cried all over her jacket: “Very,” she says, “he presents wonderfully, but come on... he’s so empty.” person in life!

And that day, just before the morning when the thrush arrived, Mishenka burst home, his hat on his ear, his bast not fitting, he collapsed in the hall on a chest, and his coat was vomited, and again about one galosh.

“Michal,” I say, “Vasilich, you’re not taking care of yourself!”

“I am,” he says, “a talent, and I am burning in fire,” and he cries and beats his vomited chest with his fist. “Eh, you unfortunate portach!” I grabbed him, dragged him into the room, took off his coat, took off his brocade clothes, put him under the blanket - I know that tomorrow he will be ashamed to look me in the eye. He was very bold when he was drunk, I think, and he drank more for the courage.

I began to feel like they were all my own. I’ll go to the theater on the tranway, and I’ll lie there, I’ve been there, right in the face of their main guy: “Our talented Mikhail Vasilich is very ill today,” and he, of course, yesterday, drunkenly, fell down the stairs, all three floors measured it, I also opened a loan in the shops - it also happened: when we get paid, we eat caviar in vain, otherwise

and fry the potatoes in vegetable oil. And I began to take a closer look at life and get used to it, everything happened, I thought: what’s what? - and everything seemed very strange to me at first. Of course, a city person lives differently, he keeps track of his fate for days, but if you look at the root - even city people don’t know life, and they live according to what they have to, and never resist what test fate has in store for them. I also got used to my patients this way. Another will come and cry in the hallway: “Are you at home,” Klavdia Ivanovna asks?” - and my lips are blue and my eyes are running around the corners like cockroaches. Of course, she did, but it’s a sin to open up - it’s all the same in the village, they’re afraid...

And Klavdia Ivanovna gave them all an abortion, and many kissed her hands in tears and called her what a savior of their lives she was. Look at the other one: the hat is brand new, the dress is in good condition, her heels are, of course, knocking on the stairs, but when she comes to us, she sits on my chest in the front room, fidgets with her fingers and is afraid to say a word. Of course, this is a terrible thing - abortion, there is a great horror from it, and yet it is murder, I believe so: the child, although small in the inside, still feels it... However, I learned to deal with them very deftly; which one you can encourage with a suitable word: “It’s an unsightly thing, this is our woman’s business, and if you give birth to everyone, there won’t be enough room on earth.” If you hold the younger one by the shoulder while she repents in tears, she cuddles trustingly and thanks her with her eyes... And from that time on I began to receive income from them, sometimes a ten-kopeck piece, sometimes a whole ruble, and Klavdia Ivanovna really liked it . “You,” he says, “are my assistant, again you take care of my happiness!” - yes, that’s what it’s like to be happy behind bars!..

I lived like this for about a month, and everyone in that house recognized me and finally got used to my personality. In the evening I would go out to the gate and sit on a bench, and everyone would say hello: “Hello, Evdokia Stepanovna,” no one would even say “Dunka,” like in the village. Let's sit down on a bench - kill time for seeds - and have a wonderful conversation about the essence of life: what is what in the world and how, about the stars, about our housing partnership, what vile cases there are in the world. And there was one bathhouse attendant in our yard; although he was a bathhouse attendant, he was a wonderful, conscientious person among the candidates in the party. “I,” he says, “serve in the Sandunovsky baths and my,” he says, “ten, or even fifteen people every day, and even foreigners, and from them I learned to speak all sorts of languages.” And it’s true - sometimes the word will bend: “Alles,” he says, “firman,” or even cooler: “Poached consommé,” and I just ask: “Perhaps, Platon Petrovich, you speak obscenely, so I’m obscene I'm not listening". “What are you talking about,” he replies, “I don’t even keep anything obscene in my mind, but I’m telling you foreign words in order to establish delicacy and intimacy with you.” “Well,” I answer him, “I never refuse to talk with an intelligent person about life, I’m always,” I say, “I’m interested in finding out: how do people live?” - and I myself think: “He will secure such a bond for me that I will have to go to Klavdia Ivanovna myself for a secret reception”; and put it this way with him: listen to all his foreign words with attention - let him show off - and not give free rein to his hands... And yet, there were times when he asked me: how do I live, how do my owners live, and have they signed me up? to the union, and do they give me overalls, and do they let me go on vacation? But I’ve never even heard of any union, and what kind of overalls are they? - and he mumbles in his very ear: “Now,” he says, “very great rights have been given to every individual, and no one dares to violate those rights, and it has been made a sacred duty to give out overalls; to us,” he says, “in the bathhouse they give out overalls.” , aprons made of oilcloth, and what kind of overalls can there be in the bathhouse? “And, in addition, compensation for unused vacation, if,” he says, “you deserve such vacation in five and a half months!” I began, of course, to delve into his words, I only ask, the former: “You, Platon Petrovich, explain to me all your foreign words without concealment,” well, he will say in foreign, and then he will explain. And I realized: the man says a lot of fair things, about exploitation and so on, but, of course, I don’t give him the final answer, I also keep my secrets behind my teeth - I try on what works best.

And once he says to me:

There are, he says, unofficial rumors circulating around the yard that your mistress is manipulating illegal abortions, and you are collecting kopecks for tea. I must tell you that the craftsmen are provided for by the enterprise and do not accept special remuneration for their work. “I,” he says, “even in a bathhouse, don’t take tea from a naked person, but I treat my work consciously, yes!” And the essence, he says, is hidden somewhere else, not in a lousy ten-kopeck piece that might offend your proletarian origin! The point, he says, is that you are supposed to be behind bars for having abortions, but if, he says, you think about this whole thing subtly, you can turn alles firman in our favor...

“How can I turn around,” I answer him sadly, “when I have nothing behind my soul, and in the village, you know, there is little less, and I am dark, like Satan himself?

“You have become very moldy,” he says, “in the inertia of your mind, even though your appearance is not at all harmful!..

I feel like he’s hinting very intelligently, but I can’t understand. Of course, we don’t know our rights based on our upbringing and education.

“Oh, you,” he says, “Dunka—tambourines—trump cards!” What is your background?

I have an ordinary origin... I have a peasant origin...

That’s it,” he says, “and that’s it... This one,” he says, “is the ace of trumps in our time, and if you play it in time, you can do a lot of business!” Comprene!..

I see: a man achieves his goal, all of them, males, need one thing, but he achieves it subtly, in an educated way, not like some Andryushka, a bare-headed bear - again useful person, and maybe fate itself sends him on my path in life, and so sometimes I’ll think about his words, I’ll think about it until I cry, my head will ache from the impossible thought. He himself, of course, was very pockmarked, his face looked like birds had pecked at him, and his whole body was white, as if made of flour - of course, he washes himself in vain every day. “What, I think, is the smartest thing to do here? If I rush to marry him, I will find out my happiness, lose some clothes, and then we can go our separate ways. But it’s also not an easy thing to throw yourself into marriage, even in a Soviet marriage!..” And I decided to conduct a subtle policy with him and make all sorts of promises to him - promise after promise, and then we’ll see... I only sense one thing, that here it is, my happiness is walking very close - but I don’t know how to take it, I can’t take it alone.

And then this same girl Sinenkova turned up - she was only fifteen years old, and she was still studying at school. She came to Klavdia Ivanovna for an appointment, fell at her feet and said: “If you don’t save me from the shame of giving birth at the age of fifteen, I will only have to throw myself into the Moscow River from the Ustinsky Bridge.”

“Undress,” Klavdia Ivanovna replies with a trembling voice, “now let’s see your grief, but only you,” she says, “don’t worry, it happens in your young years that what you need doesn’t come for an internal reason, and not for yours.” wine." Of course, I immediately stand and remember that I, too, haven’t had anything like this since I arrived in Moscow, and maybe it happened once, but I brought Klavdia Ivanovna some soapy water, she stands there, washing her hands, and the girl Sinenkova takes off She took off her blue dress, took off her hat, and had a pigtail with a bow under the hat - she would play with dolls, but she, the bastard, is doing all kinds of things... Well, tell me, Grunushka, how debauchery has gone in Moscow! Klavdia Ivanovna looked at her and said sadly:

The fact is on your face, and you are already in your fourth month of pregnancy. How did you, he says, arrange an abortion so carelessly, now nothing can be done?

She sits on a chair without a shirt, trembling, and I see: she is very afraid. She raised her childish eyes at Claudia Ivanovna, and her eyes seemed to have been cut down by a sickle:

What should I do now? I really don’t want to die in my young years!

Why, - answers Klavdia Ivanovna, - die? No need to die! Will you have a child, marry the father of your child, and perhaps be very happy?

“I can’t marry him,” he says. “He himself is only sixteen years old, without the age of majority,” he says, “he lives and raped me at the dacha...

“Here,” here Klavdia Ivanovna began to speak to me, “you see,” she says, “Dunyushka, my dear, what funny little things our city life proves... The only truth on earth,” she says, “is that in your flowers...

While we were talking like this, Sinenkova - I see - dresses hastily, puts on her hat with trembling hands and goes to the door, and forgot her purse on the table...

Young lady, I say, you forgot your purse!

“Take it,” he replies, “for yourself, I don’t need a purse now!”

When Klavdia Ivanovna heard about the handbag, her face turned white as paper, she stood there, trembling impossibly, and biting her lips. As soon as she took hold of the door, she jumped up:

Citizen, wait!

Young lady Sinenkova stopped at the door, leaned her head against the doorframe, about to fall, and looked over her shoulder, but saw nothing - her gaze was cloudy, crawling, as if lifeless...

Okay,” says Klavdia Ivanovna, “stay!” Dunyushka, come out!

The two of us locked ourselves in a room, doing our bitter work, and in the hallway I heard that girl Sinenkova moaning through clenched teeth, and the water was dripping in droplets into the basin, and I became so scared, I became so scared, my dear, tooth and nail. I won’t get in, I’m sitting like a mouse in a mousetrap...

Then she walked her to the cab, her face turned blue, like a plucked chicken, she whispers sadly:

That's it, he says. “Here,” he says, “there’s a note for you, go to him, call him during a break, tell him what you saw, tell him what a scoundrel he is...

Get moving, I answer, for God’s sake! “I see the cab driver has one ear on his ear, and Platon Petrovich is sitting on a bench and blinking his eye at me impudently.” And we were the only ones who saw that young lady Sinenkova. It was heard that she died in the hospital.

And it was Platon Petrovich who first told me, like thunder, this sad event.

“She died,” he says, “your patient... Finita... She died,” she says, “in the hospital in inhuman torment, but she didn’t give you up, you bastards... she kept silent.

I turned completely white no worse than Klavdia Ivanovna.

Well,” I say, “dear comrade, since you know, there’s nothing to hide, but I’m a forced person and I really condemn these abortions, there’s no benefit from them for the woman; Today, let’s say, they gave you an abortion, tomorrow again again, I, I say, even told her more than once, but she doesn’t listen to me and scratches the abortions for nothing... Of course, I say, twenty rubles for an abortion is a good price...

“So,” he says excitedly, “that means your mistress really does perform abortions.” You must not forget your words and repeat to the investigator for people’s affairs, he,” he says, “must certainly be interested in your words...” and he taps his finger on the bench. This Platon Petrovich was a very smart man - even though he was a bathhouse attendant, he understood everything thoroughly.

However, that would be the end of it all. No investigators for such people’s cases came, everything went on as before, and I really told Klavdia Ivanovna frankly that same evening.

It would be better, I say, to give up abortions for you. People began to guess in the yard, and Platon Petrovich asked malicious questions.

She grinned in response, carefree and proves to me that he doesn’t have any obvious facts, but: “Very,” he says, “he doesn’t take his eyes off our room, and hisses at our room, because he himself lives in the basement, and he made a mess of his proletarian origin. And you, Dunyushka, stay away with him. If anything happens, keep quiet!” However, I still thought about it and began to refuse my patients. They ask her, a former man, and beg her with tears, but she stands cruel and answers indifferently: “I don’t want to go to prison for you. “Your life,” he says, “is a tragedy, but I have to go to prison for you!” And from that time on, I began to often go somewhere in the evenings, I caught her: she came twice when she was drunk, and she also started sniffing some kind of powder, and it was worse than vodka... And our house became empty, only mice scratched behind the wallpaper, I sat I’m alone, playing the gramophone or starting to dream about my fate, and here it is, fate! Stands over your shoulder. Mishenka looks very carefully at my bosom. It’s like his eyes are burning across the pile. Klavdia Ivanovna is not at home, but he - back - began to disappear from home more. As if by chance he would come early, he invites me to drink coffee, I pour him some coffee, and he rests his impudent eyes on his chest. Or he’ll take up the guitar, sing repeatedly about dark eyes, and then grab my finger and say in a sincere voice, as if he were playing a role: “In you,” he says, “
holy spontaneity lives on, my wife told me about that.” It’s difficult, of course, for me to understand his words, his approach is what it is, but what he’s trying to achieve can be seen right away. And I decided to consult with Platon Petrovich.

How, I ask, Platon Petrovich, should I do in such an amazing case? My mistress, after the young lady Sinenkova, sniffs powder and does not sit at home, and her husband took up the guitar and sings about black eyes... But I only know what he, the scoundrel, is waiting for?

He smiled mysteriously:

Eh,” he says, “Evdokia Stepanovna, if I’m some kind of professor, give free advice... What will be left for me from your life’s feast?

Friend,” I answer, “you tell me, oh no?” We'll see what's left there... - and she turns her shoulder towards him, as if not on purpose. I just press his shoulder... All of them, scoundrels, are looking to pluck the flower of their pleasure...

“You,” he says, “are a nymph, and I can write you poetry of my own composition, no worse than Comrade Pushkin, but since things go so far, tell Antrenus: do you agree to enter into a marriage according to the code of Soviet laws, because I,” he says, “ when I wash ten people a day, and when I pay fifteen at seventy-five kopecks per body... It’s impossible to live alone, he says, boringly, I can drink fifteen bodies a day, when there’s no care in my soul... I have to take care of anyone no matter what. there is, but it is necessary... And now for whom do I live? “I,” he says, “would have taken care of everything for you then: you’ve been living for almost a whole month, but you’re not a member of a trade union, and every bourgeois punk is wasting his overall clothes and the forty-two-hour weekly rest is not at all suitable for cultural purposes... But this, - he says, - it’s all the same as money in the bank, everything can be demanded by the court...

How, - I say, - demand, - but do you believe it yourself, dear? - the whole thing began to shake: the man speaks golden words, and all the same, I see that Claudia Ivanovna will not leave, because he knows everything and will achieve his goal, but I will be left on empty cones, he will vomit from under my nose. “How,” I say, “demand?”

“I,” he replies, “I won’t tell you anything like that, because I’m bound by my word, but only she must go to prison.” A statement was received against her from one person I know, and if, - she says, - he, such a bastard, rapes you using mental influence and why the hell will he tear your trousers, - only you must wear your trousers, as material evidence, then - speaks, -
After all, you break the window and scream piercingly, and then he too will be sent to prison, excused for three years, and then, he says, catastrophe will enter the peaceful shores of life - you will see which side to move and which ace to trump...

He said these fatal words - as if lightning struck me. Here, I think, where are you aiming? That's what you're trying to achieve, you bath broom? So that she goes to prison, and he goes to prison, and you take over someone else’s room! Would you believe it, Grunushka, I’m sitting in the yard, it’s a summer day, and I’m shaking as if in the Epiphany frost. How far a person can see! Here's your consommé! Well, however, I didn’t tell him anything like that - you never know how and what will turn out, since such a catastrophe is coming - she said goodbye to him well, even sighed, as if I, too, were suffering, and I went home and began to wait for my boyfriend . First of all, I washed myself in the bath, found Klavdia Ivanovna’s dressing gowns, powdered myself with her powder and sat down by the window - I husked the seeds into the gargle, and I listened to my heart pounding throughout the house. And here he is!.. I rang the wrong way, I immediately understood: a drunken man is crawling, for sure, -
I’m thinking - today I’ll turn everything around, the time has come such that I feel sorry for one hour... And how you remember now: how I fought for my destiny then, how I forged my happiness - I even feel scared, and I feel sorry for myself inexpressibly: I suffered so much then and changed my mind, got nervous like some kind of cat... I run to the bell, unlock it, and he is standing with his hat on his ear, looking at me with all his eyes, and I see: he notices poorly, is very drunk, and his coat is covered in dust - he fell somewhere ...

Lady, he asks, is he at home?

No,” I say, “she left for Ostankino in the morning, and they told you to come for them in the evening, but if you don’t come, they will stay there overnight.”

Well, let him,” he mumbles, “at least he’ll be different...

Of course, and the case was very suitable - well, really, I think - fate itself was on my side and Platon-Petrovich’s thoughts about the apartment and everything did not allow him, the scoundrel, to carry out his life... I help him, of course, take off his coat, and he, without saying a word, grabbed me by the neck and put his mouth on my cheek...

I gasped:

What are you, Mikhail Vasilyevich?

And he’s already inflamed, breathing into my eyes and doesn’t understand anything that’s coming into his mouth. Men - they always become very stupid at this time, like damned black grouse, really - their eyes are bulging, but they don’t see anything, they say something and what, it’s impossible to really make out what, the very first thing that comes to mind, just to achieve. He began to move me onto the chest, pushing me with his knees, and tried to put everything down. Well, I think, take out your miserable happiness, Dunka! Again, I’m not a girl, what a special risk, there is no risk - but for the sake of appearance, of course, I fight with him, I push off, I grabbed him by the neck, as if I wasn’t giving in, but I pressed myself - he, the scoundrel, has reached the point, his trousers are in pieces he tore him up and threw him down... And as soon as he finished his vile business, he stood there with his underpants unkempt, when I screamed at the voice, and there he was, Platon Petrovich, right there tearing off the door, and I didn’t even close them with a hook, just in case ... He burst like thunder into the front room, I lay all torn to pieces on the chest and cry bitterly, shouting: “He violated me, he committed violence against me!” - Michal Vasilich stands, shaking, immediately sobered up, and Platon Petrovich crossed his arms over his chest, as if some kind of leader, and said:

The picture, he says, is worthy of Aivazovsky’s brush... You, citizen, get out and pull your disgusting underpants to your stomach, and for all this you will appear before the proletarian court in the very near future...

Yes, and he quickly rushed to the chairman of the house committee - so that he could immediately write down in the protocol how his vile violence happened. About two minutes later, the two of them walk together, the chairman has a revolver on his belt, and I’m lying on the chest in torn overalls, I haven’t even straightened my dress, and I’m so sad for my girlish fate, for our entire woman’s lot, so pitiful that my tears are flowing like stream, I don’t hear what words of consolation they say, I look like a fool at the electric light bulb - Platon Petrovich lit it for show - I don’t understand anything and I’m trembling...

Where, I say, will I, a peasant girl, go? Who will marry me now? Who will I tell about the broken saucer? One is dear to me, like young lady Sinenkova.

And the chairman was a very sensible man, and black as a beetle, and always walked with a briefcase - and said:

Wait, citizen, worry, be trustworthy, the enemies of the proletariat will give an answer - both for you and for young lady Sinenkova, and now, - he says, - gather all your courage into consciousness... I, - he says, - will now send you a wife, she, like a woman, it will most likely calm you down!..

And indeed - soon his wife comes, a wonderful talkative woman in a red headscarf, and also with a briefcase - she served as a delegate in the women's department... And to us, as if to a fire, the rest of the tenants are already climbing into the apartment, everyone, of course, is flattered to see what kind of woman she is committed violence. Well, however, she put everyone out decisively: “This,” she says, “is not a bazaar, but a terrible criminal case!” - and even stayed with me that night. She looked after me very much, just like a mother treated me, she kept stroking my head, and that caress made me even more offended: I think, what is our unlucky girl’s fate!..

“Were you,” she asks me, “a relative or something, brought by him?”

No,” I answer, “not a relative at all... but she helped with the housework instead of a servant.”

So, - and she writes everything in a notebook, writes it down and looks at me expressively, - and how much did you get paid?

But, I say, they didn’t pay anything...

“Very,” and here she even laughed, “very,” she says, “it turns out interesting... your material dependence is used here, and once again we are convinced from this small example that our class enemies do not sleep, but tear piece by piece wherever God will send...

He taps on his notebook with a pencil and looks at Mikhail Vasilich like a cat at a mouse. And he sat down, the klutz, on the sofa, as if sewn on. And all over his face the spots shimmer in waves, as if the rye had been threshed on him. He had a very sad face, and I felt very sorry for him, but you don’t have to feel sorry for them, males, for such behavior either.

The woman asks again:

If you now have a child, where do you plan to go? To the village?

How about, - I say, - to the village? “Yes,” I shout, “they’ll put my little brother in a collar.” They won’t give me even that much life in the village! No, if things turn out this way and I can’t find the truth, I’m from the bridge, I say...

“My dear,” she answers affectionately, “you misunderstood me very much.” I understand: inertia holds you back and does not let you into the light. But from this day you can rely on me, this, he says, is my duty to open a woman’s eyes and remove the slave shackles from her. “You,” he says, “now don’t be afraid of anything and look calmly, “the tsarist time of raping girls has passed, and young mothers should also jump into the water... Nowadays, a woman is always at the front: whether on a tram, in line for galoshes, so,” he says , - and in life...

Michal Vasilich heard these fair words and, of course, stood up silently and went into the front room to get his American hat. I got dressed and left.

And in the morning Klavdia Ivanovna arrived. She comes in so pink, of course, she doesn’t feel her troubles, she looks at life calmly, and as soon as I grab her by her cold knees, I cry in her voice:

My dear, my dear, I brought you happiness, but you gave me misfortune! My young life in your house is irrevocably broken, and I am disgraced forever, and only one is dear to me, like that young lady...

Immediately her face changed and she asked me with a terrible stomp:

What else happened? What misfortune?

“I raped you,” I say, “your Michal Vasilich is above me... And everyone heard it, and a woman with a briefcase spent the night on your bed, and Michal Vasilich left the house yesterday and has not returned now...

She sank onto the chest, her legs must have given way, she couldn’t say a word, and there wasn’t even a face on her. He mutters incomprehensible words in a weak voice:

Everything, - he says, - is one, - he says, - to one now... One to one!

It was like a bird waiting for its decisive shot. And I felt so sorry for her in that moment of hopeless sad grief that I sat next to her and cried my eyes out, as if I was burying my mother. We both cry over our women’s misfortune, and I, by the way, say:

This is how sad my life will be now! And why was Michal Vasilich making a joke?.. And if, God forbid, it’s a child...

I said about the baby - she even started shaking all over.

“Why,” he says, “are you so happy, but I’m not?” But I just didn’t understand: why did she remember her happiness in that hopeless moment? And in the evening we sit sadly together, as if someone had died: there is a terrible silence in the whole apartment, and it seems that someone is walking in the corners, we are afraid to raise our eyes to each other, we are each silent about our thoughts, and here he is he is Michal Vasilich! calling! - and he’s not calling drunk: I always guessed from the call what kind of person he was... He’s calling firmly. She decisively took off her coat in the hall, she wanted to help - he pulled it away with his hand, and entered the room -
I immediately became afraid and stood under the door. And I see: Klavdia Ivanovna raises her exhausted eyes to him, and her chin is shaking, shaking in tearful languor...

Misha,” she says, choking on her words, “our whole life is now broken... We have no life, you ruined three lives, but for what?

He turns the hat in his hands, knocks off the dust with his finger, and then throws the hat on the sofa, cleans under his nails and sighs.

And everything would be,” she says again, “I forgave you for the sake of my great love, because,” she says, “in my love, here it is all of me - both how I live and how I breathe!” But people will not forgive you and me: far away, he says, your vicious circle has spread, and it will close over your unfortunate heads...

I know the only way out of that dead end... I, he says,
I thought through everything that night on the Moscow streets, and don’t dissuade me - I’ve made up my mind forever!

What's the solution, Mishenka? - she asks in a quiet voice.

There is only one thing left for me,” and he shakes his head desperately, “to leave the path of life without regret, to die like to the last dog! - he said in a whisper, he said this word very scary. And then he began to sob, threw himself into her lap, hugged her knees and crawled over them with his head. It was a very sad moment.

And our days passed here as if we were in prison and as if we were convicts, chained to one block - bound and waiting for our fate. Klavdia Ivanovna keeps walking around the apartment and singing in a thin voice: “How sad the fireplace is burning out...” Everything is falling out of my hands, I can’t take hold of anything. I go out into the yard to dispel my melancholy, and there Platon Petrovich is mysteriously sitting on a bench and again giving me various hints.

“It won’t be long,” he says, “for you to tempt your fate, and for her,” he says, “to go to prison, and for him,” he says, “to go there too.” How will you manage then, Evdokia Stepanovna?

Oh, dear comrade,” I answer him, I’ve been there, “don’t tell me about that, don’t open up our unfortunate wound,” but my very heart is yearning: for him to tell what and why? Yes, strike them, males, so that the girl can trust. When she woke up - she got burned on Michal Vasilich - she began to blow on Platon Petrovich. How should I really manage? Oh, then I came to Moscow to wear a belly? And here I began to wonder: had Andryushka really made this belly a big deal: when I arrived in Moscow, everything that was needed was still missing.

Oh, - I’ll say, - Platon Petrovich, you wash ten people a day, and when it’s fifteen, you can speak words in all languages, and you see that learned man, - why are you keeping the dark girl a secret? What secret thought do you have?

“I,” he answers, “teach, I teach, and I also take care of myself.. And you,” he says, “are now in a luxurious position in life and have become proud - when you say a word in the evening, and then you’re not there!”

Well, all those overt machinations were of no use. The trials began here - every day there was a trial. Either he is dragged to the police, then she is dragged to the investigator, then I am given a testimony - I have completely slowed down with those courts. And the chairman’s wife helped me a lot here. She was worried, she was mentally worried about me, as if I were her own daughter. So, it happened, and selflessly scratches the investigator:

Nowadays dark prejudices have been eliminated! Slave times are over once and for all! And if, - he shouts, - in front of everyone, women are raped in vain - they won’t build us a building to memorialize us!

She was very clear about the building and also about the platform!

Klavdiya Ivanovna was arrested even before the trial. Two comrades from the police came in the afternoon and asked very politely: “Will you be citizen Setkina? And if you are, come with us for a minute.” From that moment she never returned. And I wore a shirt for her to Butyrka - and I saw: she was walking along the corridor - thin, like a girl, only terrible big eyes burning, sunken eyes, like those of a dead person.

It’s so scary,” I tell her.

“Nothing,” he answers, “nothing is scary, there is,” he says, “and there’s also a trial,” and with a hand to his heart, “it will be much more terrible!”

And when we were summoned to court, we went next to Michal Vasilich. He is unshaven, in a coat, with his collar turned up, and doesn’t look people in the eye, as if he had all his crimes written on his forehead. We came, of course there were a lot of people, they told us: “Take off your coats and tell us what business you will be on?” Michal Vasilich answers with his bitter smile: “In the case of midwife Setkina, miserable witnesses!” “And then,” they say, “come here and wait here in peace - they will definitely call you.” And it’s true: they were soon called into a large hall, and there Claudia Ivanovna stood in front of the table, and behind her was a Red Army soldier with a drawn saber, and the judge told us: “The proletarian court warns you to tell the whole truth, witnesses, and must tell you in advance what the you yourself will be judged untruthfully. “And now,” he says, “go into the room, they will call you.” We went out, but they immediately called me back and one thing. And the judge asks:

Where did you meet citizen Setkina?

Here, I answer, in Zelenaya Sloboda. Our father has been a priest for twenty years. This summer we became friends with her, like girlfriends...

And the judge sarcastically interrupts:

How did you, citizen Setkina, hide your origins? To the court, -
says, “It’s very interesting to know that you are the daughter of a cult official...

They asked us until late in the evening - about the young lady Sinenkova, and about abortions, and how they lived, and what they ate - well, of course, I see: everyone knows, I began to talk about how the abortionists cried on my chest and how they killed themselves and They kissed Klavdia Ivanovna’s hands, and then the prosecutor stood up and began to make a speech. And he said such things about Claudia Ivanovna that I gasped!

Immediately she, the bitch, was sentenced to three years and straight from the hall to prison. I’m sitting, and I feel that she’s burning me with her eyes, she’s shaking all over, and she’ll bark obscenely for my fair words, but she kept silent, turned her eyes and left.

And we came home, my bitter lover, Michal Vasilich, asks me, of course, with a bitter smile:

Dunyushka, why did you drown Klavdinka? Did she get you into trouble? Oh, she didn’t drag you out to the city for a good life? Do you have any God?

About God, I answer, it’s better to keep quiet, Michal Vasilich. - I say, - have I seen a lot of happiness in your house? I washed and cooked for you, and you paid me a salary? What kind of overalls were they given? What kind of vacation did you imagine? Only, - I say, - your business is that the woman became pregnant from you...

What you! what you! - she waves her hands like a devil, - it’s impossible that you’re pregnant!

“Very,” I answer, “perhaps, it’s a fact on the face...

He shook and hissed at me in a whisper:

Well, does that mean you will destroy me too? “I can’t be destroyed,” and he even cries, “my talent can perish!..

I answer, “I don’t give a damn about your talent, Michal Vasilich!” - I really felt my strength then and became bold - to grow! “I,” I say, “maybe ten talents are missing, and we don’t know about it!” You cannot smash a proletarian building with impunity!

He is silent and shakes his head. Turned blue from the face, not good...

But only soon he was summoned to court...

They asked us, they asked, the chairman’s wife also told everything and was worried, Platon Petrovich argued to my heart, and when everything was laid out to the point, then the prosecutor said: “In view of the clarity of the case, I ask you to take citizen Setkin into custody!” - and began to keep his word.

And they sentenced Michal Vasilich to three years, and so that he would be in strict isolation, but he would serve his time, so that he would leave Moscow and not dare to live here, and they told me that I should demand from him for child support and that the entire apartment would be seized, so that everyone went for the child. The chairman’s wife became terribly worried: “Don’t worry about this,” she said, “comrade judges, it’s our duty to take care of this, the whole board decided to give Setkin’s room to her and the child, and since the property,” she says, “is seized for alimony, then this is very prudent, let her live, and I will find a service for her”... And he affectionately takes me by the shoulder and leads me out of court. And I walk as if in a dream, and I don’t dare believe it... We came to this room, I’m crying, I’m spilling out: has my dream really come, and all the luxury is mine, and that Michal Vasilich will pay for the child for the rest of his life - I’m crying, of course , with joy I say to the chairman’s wife:

What should I do now? I really can’t believe my luck! And if, I say, I write to my mother about the village, she won’t believe it either.

Well,” he replies, “there was a lot of grief, but now,” he says, “you need to sign up for the trade union, so that you can become a conscientious citizen on the platform, and don’t wander around!”

“Lord,” I answer, “not only in the union, I will wash your floors every week...

“I don’t need this,” he tells me sternly, “I do it out of duty, and not out of interest...

And I began to live alone, and my life flowed luxuriously. I sold her abortion instruments to a neighboring midwife, I sold his fur coat, the gold cufflinks that he commemorated, the onion watch - I live like a lady. I’ll get up in the morning, make myself some coffee or some tea and go study illiteracy. Of course, they signed me up for the union and charged me everything I had to live with them, for my overalls and for my vacation. Of course, now I have to give birth, but the chairman’s wife says that in the city the state looks at this and gives money - not like my mother, who used to give birth in a field under a broom tree and drag the child home herself. I began to live luxuriously - Platon Petrovich and here he is. “I always liked you,” he says, “incomparably, but what sin is there on you, now,”
he says, “this sin does not exist: it has been annulled, and the woman has great freedom: give birth to whomever you want, no one cares, just so that he pays alimony carefully...” Platon Petrovich promises very great happiness:

Actors, he says, don’t make bad money at all, it’s not just enough for a child to buy milk, and enough for ice cream for you too... And if you agree to sign with me legally, I’ll take out a work loan, and I’ll dress you up like a doll...

But I just ignored his crafty speeches.

“What to dress me,” I answer, “you make a promise, so I,” I say, “and so I wear Claudia Ivanovna’s dresses, good dresses, and according to the court inventory, I got a yellow jacket... No, dear Platon Petrovich, I have become very wiser in the city, and My proletarian origin does not allow me to enter into a marriage of convenience... my dream goes further!

And I decided to send Andryushka to Moscow. Still, I’ll give birth, but it’s awkward for a child to be without his own father.

And this is my final request to you, Grunushka. When you come to Green Sloboda, tell him, the naked devil, to come here and not worry about life, because my dream took him ahead, and that I saved Mikhail Vasilichev’s jacket for him and the silver cigarette case, too, I haven’t sold yet...

Compilation, foreword and comments by Dmitry Bykov

Edited by Elena Shubina

Illustrator Maria Drozdova (Instagram:marie.drozd.ova)

Publishing house AST, Moscow

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The book “Project Russia” seriously stated that “the CIA is killing Russia by imposing sex education.”

In subsequent years, in order to preserve the chastity of the younger generation, anatomy sections that contained at least some facts about sexuality were reduced in schools. Some “saviors of Russia” saw sex education as almost a threat to national security. The book “Project Russia,” published several years ago, stated in all seriousness that “the CIA is killing Russia by introducing sex education.” It's funny, but some American patriots said the same thing half a century ago. Only instead of the CIA, they imagined a “Soviet threat.” In 1969, American far-right leader Robert Welch argued that school sex education was "a dirty Communist plot to undermine the spiritual health of American youth."

Among people who oppose sex education, the most common objection is: “What is there to teach? We already know where to put things! Nobody taught us this."What can you answer to this? Man, unlike animals, adds culture to his life processes. After all, everyone also knows that food should be put in the mouth, and not in the ear. However, there is a culture of table manners. And this has been taught for a long time! No one is surprised or asks why this is necessary. Because everyone understands: food can be consumed beautifully, or it can be consumed obscenely, like a pig. It’s the same in the intimate sphere, where, as you know, there are much more subtleties and nuances than during a meal.

In 1964, guys had 14 milligrams of testosterone per liter of blood, and today it is already 18. This is 3 times more than in adults

“In lessons we need to talk about the psychology of sexual life. So that teenagers know when intimate life brings joy. Boys often don’t understand that before sex a girl needs to be prepared: kissed, caressed, spoken to her some tender words. They rush to get straight to the point, and then become indignant: “She, a cow, doesn’t feel anything...” - says sexologist, candidate of medical sciences Alexander Poleev. -Even if we station three police officers and two church ministers at each school today, the acceleration process will not slow down. In 1964, the first study of adolescents in Moscow was conducted for the presence of the sex hormone testosterone. Then, in guys, its concentration was 14 milligrams per liter of blood, and today it is already 18. This is a lot, three times more than in adults. If you give a mature man today 18 milligrams of testosterone, he will immediately have sexual intercourse, no matter with whom. Every year, the level of hormones in adolescents is slowly but growing. No one denies the existence of intimate life, but for some reason they do not consider it necessary to teach at least basic knowledge about it in school. This is a complete lack of logic."

In all centuries, love, family and sex life have been very important for any person. In ancient times, people even deified the sexual sphere, but then they began to consider it dirty and vicious. People are drowning inthere is no pornography, and almost no one is developing sexual culture. There are many museums of erotica in the world, but there is not a single systematic museum of family history and sexual culture.Sexual education in the West is more frightening than attractive - the lessons, as a rule, are primitive and cover only basic physiological processes, the problems of preventing pregnancy and disease, and also instill tolerance for same-sex relationships. MMany parents often do not know what to answer to their children when asked about birth. Although the simplest thing is to call sex education lessons Love Lessons.This name is more pleasant for everyone: for schoolchildren, and for parents, and for strict puritans, perhaps, too.It is necessary to cultivate demographic consciousness from childhood and instill in them that the preservation of the ethnic group and national culture depends not so much on folk songs and dances, but on love for one’s descendants, even conceived at the wrong time.

The primitiveness of sex education in the West is largely due to the lack of a serious scientific base and serious systematic research in this area. This was noted by Judith McKay, doctor of sexology, senior adviser to the World Health Organization in her report “Sexuality and Sexual Behavior in the Modern World.” Unfortunately, in modern Europe there is no comprehensive center similar to the Hirschfeld Institute for Sexual Sciences, which existed in the 20s and 30s in Berlin and was destroyed by Hitler. In Germany, the only scientific and treatment center is the Institute of Sexology, created in Frankfurt am Main and later moved to Hamburg. It is very symbolic that this research center was included in the psychiatric clinic. This quite eloquently demonstrates the place that is given there to issues of sex and sexual culture.

In Russia, the Institute of Sexual Culture published several books and died quietly due to zero funding

The world-famous sexologist Igor Kon lived and worked very fruitfully in Russia, but we did not have specialized scientific centers. In 2009, the Institute of Sexual Culture and Family appeared in Kaliningrad. However, proposals from specialists to create a systematic museum of the history of sexual culture and family, to establish an appropriate department at the university and to publish a textbook did not find adequate support. As a result, the Institute published several books, participated in the creation of a television film on REN TV and quietly died due to zero funding. The only thing left as a tombstone is the site sex-prosvet.ru, where you can find a video of a talk show about sexual culture and sex education with the participation of Igor Kon.

We have been solving the problem for a hundred years

“Sex education in schools should begin at the age of 12–13. Otherwise, we will increasingly be faced with such excesses as, for example, early pregnancy. It is not uncommon for this age (of childbearing) to be 14 years old today,” These words were written by a red feminist, a Soviet stateswoman, the first female minister in history, Alexandra Kollontai, almost a hundred years ago, but have still not lost their relevance for Russia - in terms of the number of abortions and early pregnancies We are now ahead of the whole planet.In France there are 3.5 pregnancies per thousand schoolchildren, in Germany - 5, and in Russia - 34 cases. The lack of sex education contributes to these sad results.

For example, there is still a myth that Without fear of getting pregnant, you can have sex five days before your period and five days after. Or another common misconception: nothing will happen just once. According to surveys, today more than 50% of Moscow school graduates have had sexual experience. The debut occurs most often in high school. In Paris, for example, average age the beginning of intimate life is 13 years old, the earliest among European countries. At one time, the United States spent $1 billion promoting sexual abstinence among schoolchildren. Then they conducted a survey and found out that the age of onset of sexual activity among program participants was 15 years old - exactly the same as those who ignored it. It turns out that a billion was thrown away; the basic instinct turned out to be stronger than lectures.

Although there is no official sex education in Russia, the administrations of many advanced private schools invite sexologist professors to give lectures. High school students take these lessons seriously. Sexual savagery must be replaced by sexual culture. And it is clear that it will not come by itself - this must be taught.

My first time)) My first was a month ago. I am 19 years old, he is 21. I live in a hostel, but he has been living separately from his parents for a long time. The whole point is that he is my first in everything: the first kiss, the first boyfriend, the first sex... I don’t consider myself an absolute ugly person, I have a good figure, a cute face and medium-length blond hair. Every time I thought that the first kiss would be something special, unusual, just like sex, but alas... it was like this:

I moved to the 3rd year, he was already in the 4th. He is handsome, pumped up, with brown eyes, in general, everything is about him. From the very beginning we had mutual hostility, but then an absurd incident happened... we argued with him that he couldn’t win my favor in a month, and even more so for me to fall in love with him, he would fall in love with me faster. If I win, that is. in a month I won’t feel practically any feelings for him, then he will fulfill 3 of my wishes; if he wins, and I still fall in love with him, then I will sleep with him and his friend (I want to explain that I was 100% sure of my own victory).

A few days later, our dorm room flooded and needed repairs, there were only 2 beds, and there were 4 of us. Then I called my older brother, he told me that there was an opportunity to live with his friend’s younger brother (I had nothing to worry about, his friend trained his brother and wouldn’t dare bother me), well, I didn’t have a choice, I agreed . I DIDN'T KNOW THAT THIS BROTHER WOULD BE THE ONE WITH WHOM I HAD AN ARGUMENT, WHOM I HATED!
Well, in general, I lived with him for 2 and a half weeks, he naturally took advantage of every opportunity: he walked around without a T-shirt, as if he accidentally came into my room…. after my statement “I don’t see a man in you,” he began to squeeze me at any time with the words “do you see seisas?”...

Well, some time later, I naturally fell in love with him, but remembering our argument, I hid it... the end of our life together was approaching, he became even more stubborn... and here I decided to act! As if by chance, my towel fell off when I was getting out of the shower (I was wearing only lace underwear), when he said that there was nothing to look at, I walked around the house exclusively like that…. Well, in general it turned out that when he Once again He pulled me up against the wall and kissed me (my first kiss, before that I had turned away), but that time I reciprocated... he moved away and looked at me in surprise. I hoped that it was a mutual feeling, so I admitted that I loved him. But there was something else in his gaze, then I realized what a mistake I had made, having confessed to him, I knew that if I slept with him and his comrade, I would hate myself. Therefore, plucking up the impudence, she said: “okay, I understand... when and where? Who is your friend?" Then he hugged me quite tightly, picked me up and whispered “I won’t give you to anyone, you will be mine.”

I moved into a dorm, but soon he caught me in the corridor of the university and offered to live with him for a little while longer; I, naturally, agreed. And then a week later he asked to give him a massage, without a second thought. Everything happened somehow suddenly. I sat on his butt and began to knead his back, he moaned very erotically, I couldn’t resist and kissed him between the shoulder blades, he quieted down, and I kissed him a little higher, and so I got to his neck, then to his ear... he quickly turned me over and leaned on top, suddenly asked “do you want this?” I was a little hesitant, but nodded, since we had never talked about this before. We had a long foreplay, then he slowly took off my robe, I took it off and he entered me quite gently and slowly... my body was pierced by pain, tears flowed from me and he stopped, began to console me and with the words “silly, pain - the beginning of something new” quickly entered me. I thought that I would die from pain... after some time the pain decreased and I lost my head from the buzz... after all, he took me in his arms, carried me to the bathroom, there we washed... then he carried me in his arms to the living room, put me on the sofa, and lay down nearby... we covered ourselves with a blanket and lay naked and satisfied until we fell asleep.

Hello)
I want to share my story... I’ll start from the beginning) I’ve been dating Andrey for a year, I liked in our relationship that we gradually became closer to each other. We didn’t go beyond simple kisses for 3-4 months... then gradually it went further and further ...around the 8th or 9th month we caressed each other, etc.
I told him at the very beginning of our relationship that until I make up my mind, we won’t have sex. He understood.. after all, virgins are always afraid of the first time. He never insisted that I give myself to him.. even when he was very close and he just needed to make one move and that’s it) But without my consent he couldn’t
and so at the beginning of June I left for a month at sea... before leaving, he and I agreed that after our arrival we would have our first time. All the conditions were there. My grandmother and grandfather went to Moscow for a week and gave me the keys so that I could tidy up week with them. I realized that I wouldn’t have such a chance again, since I don’t need to worry about someone coming, I can relax + there is a bath and sanitary conditions) so we decided on this... the night before the first time I just couldn’t sleep, I was very afraid, but I was ready for it, really ready)
And so on that day, namely 07/21/2012, we came to my grandmother’s house for lunch... I thought that he would almost immediately drag me into bed and do the job) but he saw in me that I was a little stressed) and decided to postpone this matter a little ) We watched TV, got mad, cooked lunch together, and then dinner, talked a lot... I was so relaxed and happy with such simple communication... and then they talked and I couldn’t stand it, I shut his mouth with my kiss and here we are both got wound up, quickly went into the bedroom and began to slowly take off each other’s clothes, kiss and caress each other, which was something we were already accustomed to... let’s say his penis is big and I was afraid that it would be very painful. But I was very excited and the main thing is that she was relaxed and there was almost no fear... in the end, when it came to the most crucial moment, he kissed and whispered in her ear so tenderly “I love you, honey, I love you *” and walked in... the pain was not very strong and there was blood there was none at all, and then after a few seconds it became very pleasant... after all we lay down and held hands and rested) didn’t say a word to each other) for about 10 minutes) then he was the first to go to the bathroom and I lay there with joy and my Tears of happiness flowed from my eyes, for the first time I cried with joy.
After that, our relationship just got better; my grandmother came often during the week, but not only to make love) what is important to me is that our relationship has not lost what it had before, we also joke with him, talk for hours, we have not lost what happened between us and it’s just great. I don’t regret anything.
I wish everyone’s first time to be for love and with a person with whom you can imagine your married life)