Taing the Ris: Misha's Story

For those that wanted to know more about Misha before he met Froo, here is his story and how he came to be in England which is where he met her and fell in love,, and his time with Suzanne the woman in his past.

His passion for Suzanne becomes an obsession, as she plunges down into a self destructive whirlpool, so for those that believe that life's many experiences make up a rich and interesting tapestry....here is Misha's story.

To read about Misha and Froo please read the companion story Taking the Risk Chapter's 1-21 under Novels and Novella's.

*

It had been three weeks since the incident where Suzanne had the bad acid trip. Misha had sat down with her the next day and tried to get her to see a councillor at her College to help her deal with her problems, but she just shook her head and told him she would stay clean.

That she had learnt her lesson.

That she was sorry.

She would never do it again.

She would clean up her act.

That she loved him.

Misha held her whilst she told him she loved him. She begged him not to leave her. He held her, telling her he loved her and would look after her. That everything was going to be alright.

Slowly they made love. There on the bed where he had held her during her bad trip, the sheets around them creased and messy, the room strewn with her things, the smell of sweat and fear mingling with the musky smell of sex. Sordid and dirty, the room didn't reflect the sweet act of love that played out on the small bed.

Normally the sex between them was wild, but somehow this seemed more fitting. Slow and gentle he kissed her, stroking her body, removing their clothes, arching up to let her feel his hard manhood, her small hand holding him as he pressed himself into her palm.

Soft words of encouragement whispered between them, and he bent his head to her neck, kissing her there, telling her he would always look after her. Her small breasts rose up as she arched her chest towards him, and taking them in his mouth he felt her hard nipples against his tongue as he suckled and lathered them. Listening to her small gasps and moans, her body moving sinuously below his, her legs bending up, her hands sweeping down his back stroking his nerve endings under his skin, and as his mouth trailed a line further down, kissing and licking her slightly salty tasting skin, he tried to make her feel loved on the only real level of reassurance she seemed to respond to.

The two lovers entwined on the bed joined to each other, giving pleasure, re-affirming a promise, giving hope, and moving on to the next stage of their relationship.

*

It had been four months since they had met and most nights had seen her staying at his place, bit by bit her things appearing in his apartment. Shampoo and gel in the bathroom, clothes in his wardrobe, shoes on the floor of the tiny living area, piles of books strewn over his table, and makeup everywhere he looked.

Suzanne had been true to her word and stayed away from the drugs, and he had become aware of the real fragile nature of her personality, and as they had lain in bed, the quiet night surrounding them, her usually busy mind and body replete, he would ask her questions, listening and putting together her fractured past, and trying to understand what made her so brittle sometimes, as if she was scared of just being still and being in touch with herself.

There were times when she would drink much too much, times when her insecurity caused arguments, times when he tried to make her understand his relationships with his family and friends didn't mean that his love for her was diminished in any way. But her fragile feelings of rejection would surface every so often and there would be flare ups, with her over-reacting, then the Tequila would come out, and she would party out at clubs, dancing wildly, attracting attention, feeding the demon inside of her.

He went and watched her in the College production and was proud of her, sitting with Robin, John and Joanie in the audience, listening to the applause as she stood on stage glowing in the approval, and afterwards at the first night party she was the glowing, enjoying the congratulations from everyone, her smile bright, her eyes even brighter.

He had taken her to meet his Aunt and Uncle, introducing her, and she had been on her very best behaviour. Charming them, bringing his Aunt flowers and subtly flirting with his Uncle, making the older man feel special.

As they were leaving his Uncle told him what a nice girl he had found, and how sweet she was. Misha just nodded and smiled, remembering the scene earlier at his place as they got ready. Suzanne in a swirl of panic, swearing and throwing clothes all over the place as she looked for the right thing to wear, scared that she wouldn't look perfect for meeting his family.

His life was not calm or steady with her, but he loved her. He loved the passion that lay inside her, loved her clever mind, loved her little girl lost side that surfaced when she was faced with something that she wasn't sure of, loved her earthy sexuality. He enjoyed their sharing of a sense of humour, watching re runs of 'I love Lucy' and old nineteen fifties film noir movies in black and white that they both loved, hiring DVD's of old Robert Mitchum , Alan Ladd and Bogart movies and sitting eating Chinese or pizza curled up on the couch, quoting lines together as the actors strutted their way through the mayhem in the movie.

For four months all seemed to be going well, and then slowly she started to change.

*

"I hated sharing with those girls anyway, they were boring provincial little sluts."

Misha hauled the box into the hire car, placing it on top of the pile of her possessions, "Suzy you're two months behind with your rent, they were right to ask you to leave if you couldn't stump it up. They need to rent out your room to make up the short fall."

"Don't you sympathise with them Misha, they were happy to borrow my things when they wanted, eat my food, drink my booze, but not give me a little more time to get hold of the outstanding money."

Shutting the back door to the car he folded his long body behind the wheel, "Well no problem, staying with me you don't have to find the rent. You've practically moved in already."

"Yeah sugar," leaning across the seat to kiss his cheek she laughed, "and your cock has practically moved into me." Joining in the laughter he pulled the car out into the traffic, "For such a refined Southern lady you have a particularly dirty turn of phrase."

Slumping down, her bare feet up on the dashboard, her long bare legs rising up from the short denim skirt distracting him, "I'm not refined sugar, just a southern girl from the wrong side of the tracks." Pointing to a local corner store she told him, "Pull over here, I need to get some drink."

"We don't need it; I've got a couple of bottles of wine back at my place."

"I don't need wine, I need some Tequila. Park over there and wait, I won't be long."

Sitting in the car he waited as she went inside the shop, coming out five minutes later, the bottle inside of a brown bag, her smile wide and carefree. "This sugar is mother's milk, let's go home and party."

After unloading the car they curled up and celebrated, Misha trying to keep up with her shot for shot, but losing. As the evening wore on she became more morose, telling him more about her home life back in Augusta. "They all thought that just because my momma was a single mom and she worked cleaning some of the big houses the other side of town I was a nothing. But I'll show them the bastards." Picking up the bottle she filled up the small shot glass, "small town mentality, small town morals."

"You don't have to impress anyone Suzy, only yourself. Don't you know that?"

Looking at Misha, at the end of the couch, her feet on his lap, she told him, "Yeah, well look at you sugar, what do you think the swimming was about, if not to impress others? Where does your driving ambition come from if not to impress your family and friends?"

"You're wrong. The swimming was for me. It was my way of stretching myself, of being the best I could be, of achieving results and beating the opposition for my own satisfaction. I love swimming, and I still enjoy it even if I'm not competing anymore."

"Crap, you told me yourself that at each swim meet all your family would come and watch to cheer you on. Your aunts and uncles, your cousins and parents. What was all that for if not to impress them."

"They came to support me, not to be impressed. The same way I went to my cousin's football games or track meets, that's what big families do, they support each other. Even when I lost they were there for me."

"Nice to have had a big family, nice to have any family!" and knocking back the liquid in her glass she told him, "to feel secure and not alone."

Reaching for her he pulled her up onto his lap and kissing her whispered, "Your not alone sugar plum, you've got me."

"Have I Misha, have I got you?"

"Yeah, you've got me. I'm not going anywhere Suzanne."

*

A week later he found it, stashed behind the microwave in the kitchen. He would never have known if the damn microwave hadn't worked and he needed to check the fuse in the plug at the rear of the machine. Standing in shock, looking at the small plastic bag with the white powder he forgot about the bowl of soup waiting to be heated and felt like he had been sucker-punched in the gut.

She had been a little hyper lately, but he had put that down to the fact she had been auditioning for a role in some television soap, and was wound up waiting for a call back.

Picking up the offending package he walked over to the couch and put it on the table in front of him, sitting down and waiting for her to come home from the shop where she was doing a late evening shift. That's how she found him when she opened the door, sitting there in the semi dark, his arms folded across his chest, the look on his face angry and hurt. She saw the small packet on the table in front of him and ignoring him walked into the bedroom to change into her jeans. Following her into the room he stood by the door watching her as she pulled the tee shirt over head. "Ok tell me how long?"

"Drop it Misha, You're not my keeper."

"I said how long have you been back taking it?"

"Fuck off."

Striding up to her and grabbing her arm he shouted, "Fucking tell me. Is there any more stashed around the place, or is that packet the only stuff here?"

"Let go of my arm you bastard. I told you I'm not your pet. You don't own me. I can do what I want."

"No you bloody can't. Not in my home. Not if you want to stay here you can't. Not if you want us to stay together."

The silence between them was electric. Misha realised that it was the wrong thing to say to her. He watched the shock on her face, then it change to one of fear."

"You don't mean that?"

"Suzanne that stuff is no good for you. I can't deal with you when you get high. I love you and want you to be well, and to deal with what's eating you and for you to learn how to cope without taking drugs or getting drunk."

Walking into the lounge with Misha following her she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

"You throwing me out?"

"No."

"What then?"

"We flush the stuff down the pan, you tell me where else you've got some stashed and we'll get rid of it too. You start to deal with your problems by talking to me. Telling me what's hurting you, and we share your fears and deal with them together."

Walking over to the table he picked up the packet and walked to the bathroom, Suzanne following. Picking up the toilet lid he opened the packet and watched as the white powder floated onto the top of the water before flushing the lever. He turned to see Suzanne standing tears in her eyes, her face scared and drawn. Opening his arms he invited her into his embrace.

"I didn't get the part. They didn't like me."

"Come here sweetheart, I promise you we'll deal with this together."