All of the following took place at the time of the sunset of stagnation in the USSR, when people had not yet had a chance to taste the so-called freedom and openness of information, and the only things on the shelves in stores were jars of huge cucumbers, packets of bay leaf, and packets of bad Georgian tea. The factory committees distributed all vacation packages and scarce goods, but the rest had to be found at thrift shops or on the black market for a lot of money, and sex, as you know, did not exist at all.
Vera came to Truskavets on a package deal, having sent her husband and five-year-old son to stay at the Black Sea. At first nothing foretold a storm. She loved her husband, they had sex regularly when she wanted it, her husband always made it up to her, so she did not have, and could not have, any plans that women sometimes hatch when they go to the resort. She believed that no sense walking away from a good, and it is even more risky, since you may lose everything has been achieved so far. Vera was by profession an engineer-physicist, and her analytical brain can immediately determine what to expect from a particular man, so she was not afraid to fall for the fishing rod of fans "to fish" on the side.
The sanatorium was situated in a spa park, which was good in terms of the availability of pump rooms with mineral water, you could walk to them, walking along its alleys. The upper pump room was a little closer than the central one. Accommodation in the sanatorium was usual: a block of two single rooms with a vestibule, where there were doors of two premises one of which was a toilet with washbasin and the other one has a shower stall again with a washbasin. The room had a closet, a bed and a table with two chairs. In general, nothing special too.
Having put out her things, showered from the trip, she washed her clothes, hung them to dry on the loggia, which was the only one in the block, and went to the city center, which was about a mile away, to explore, past the central pump room.
In Truskavets she was for the first time, she usually went to Yessentuki, and she liked the city for its architecture and the abundance of greenery. It was not surprising, since it was early autumn, and the trees had not yet had time to change color, although a slight purple was already observed. There were few shops, a restaurant and a few cafes, and she could see no discos or other amusements.
'Alone will probably be boring', she thought, and for the first time regretted that she had no husband with her. However, the child was nowhere to go anyway, her mother never wanted to stay alone with her grandson for fear of responsibility, and her mother-in-law refused this time, too. Again, it was not easy to get a ticket, so that "husband by her side" it was from the realm of fantasy.
That evening she met her roommate, Nina Yegorovna, a forty-seven-year-old teacher from Syktyvkar, and asked where she could iron her clothes. When she was told that there was a room with an iron and an ironing board on the floor, Vera grabbed her underpants, bra, and nightgown, which had already dried, and her tracksuit, which was rumpled and crumpled in her suitcase, and left the room. She quickly found the utility room at the end of the hallway, where some woman was already ironing the laundry, and after waiting a moment, she got hold of the iron. When she was finished, a young, athletic-looking guy of about thirty or thirty-five years of age walked in with a bag under his arm, looking like an Italian, like they do in the movies. This type of man attracted Vera and she fixed her gaze on him for a moment, then continued her work.
"Victor," she heard a pleasant deep voice.
"Excuse me?" she looked up and saw that the "Italian" was staring at her.
"My name is Victor, and what is yours?" He introduced himself, still looking at her intently.
"Vera."
"And how long have you been here, Vera?"
"I just arrived."
"Well, how do you do?" The young man rejoiced, "It's my first day here, too. This is fate!"
"What do you mean?" Vera said as coldly as possible. She was not at all enthusiastic about possible molestation. She valued comfort more than anything else, and was not going to make any unnecessary acquaintances.
"Only that it was a clear sign that we wouldn't have to look for someone else."
"No," Vera snorted, "I'm not going to look for anyone, I've got everything."
"Husband?"
"And a son."
"Well, I'm also married, and I have children. It's only for the best, there's less chance of picking up what you don't want, and there's no reciprocal obligations."
"Are you that frank with everyone?" Vera grinned as she gathered up the ironed laundry and walked past the impudent young man.
"And what's the big deal, it's a common thing. And it's also good for your health," he almost shouted the last in her back, but Vera did not listen to him, although some of the strings he touched in her, perhaps. First of all, his exterior and... She found it difficult to define, but still, probably, sex appeal. He was markedly different from her husband, whom she loved very much, and who was a good man, but rational and without that sparkle in his eyes. And then, the voice... Victor's voice had such a timbre that it mesmerized her and caused her body to faint and tremble. That was why she tried to put him out of her mind as soon as possible and decided to avoid further meetings.
***
The next day passed very hectic; she had doctors' appointments, medical procedures, and routines, with a small lunch break in the fairly good canteen. There she saw Victor again, entertaining his tablemate, a blonde in her thirties, with conversation. He must have been joking, for the blond was laughing happily at his remarks. Either unintentionally or intentionally, he never once looked in her direction, which left an unpleasant residue. 'Well, that's good', she thought, 'less trouble'. But there was a worm in her soul. Why had he chosen that blonde? What was wrong with her?
She ate a quick meal and went back to the doctor's office.
The next day on her way to the pump room she had no more memories of that meeting, enjoying the walk in the park, the clean air, the singing of birds and gentle rays of the sun, which broke through the cloudiness so frequent here at this time of year. Already approaching the pump room, she heard a crackling sound in the bushes, and the young man fell out of them right in front of her, holding out a rose with the words:
"To the most delicate woman, the most delicate flower! " and fell down on one knee. Vera was not too fond of roses, but the sign of attention was pleasant, in spite of some insolence in its expression. She accepted the rose, after which it would have been quite indecent not to support the conversation, which he immediately started:
"Where are you from?" Vera was slightly offended by this sudden switch to close communication, and she answered discreetly:
"From near Chelyabinsk, but we did not drink on the brotherhood."
"Oh, no problem, let's have a drink right now. Come on, I have some in my room."
"I do not drink with strange men."
"So let's get acquainted! What's each other's name we already know, where we live we'll find out soon, and if there are any other questions, go ahead, say it."
