MARUSIN'S STORY Uncle Kolya led us on his own path - straight to the village of Lyady. We walked first through a field, then through a forest. Either along the path, or along the cart road. They walked slowly, because at first the cow shook her head and became stubborn. Then nothing, they went their separate ways. We hardly spoke. Only occasionally

Nikolay KRASILNIKOV

As a child, I did not like two things - the hairdresser and especially the bathhouse. Not because it was necessary to get a haircut and then wash... No, no! Something else frightened me: the unpleasant experiences that accompanied them. Which? If you're interested, listen.

Until I was five, my mother bathed me at home. I heated water on a primus stove in a large saucepan. Then the heated water was poured into a galvanized trough, diluted with cold water - the bath was ready! Here the washcloth and violent soap suds began to rage over me. Sometimes it was hot, my eyes stung, but I endured it steadfastly, even through tears. When it was completely unbearable, he squealed, and my mother tamed her ardor.

The real tests began much later, when I was taken to get my hair cut. The hairdresser was not close, on Kukcha. Hairdresser Uncle Chaim sat me down on a tall chair, tied a sheet around my neck and pointed his mustache at my mother:

How to cut a lamb, under the knee or leave a forelock?

For some reason, my mother looked at me sympathetically, ruffled my hair and sighed:

Under the knee.

Before I had time to figure out what the “knee” password meant, an electric machine began to buzz above my head, stinging painfully, like dozens of wasps. It was a shame to cry, and I courageously remained silent. Finally, the machine fell silent, and I saw my blurry face in the mirror. She seemed swollen to me, and her head was completely bald, like... her knee. This is where the meaning of this word came to me...

Only after leaving the hairdresser did I give real vent to my tears. But I soon forgot this undeserved insult. But at home, she reminded me of herself in the image of the neighbor’s Grishka, when I went out the gate with a hump smeared with apple jam. When he saw me, he actually burst into a gap-toothed smile.

Bald head, give me some pie! - Grishka sang.

What if I don’t? - I said, hiding the hump behind my back.

“I’ll let you go of the shelban,” Grishka promised sarcastically. - All bald people are entitled to shelbans...

Kolka, if someone starts teasing you: “Bald head, give me some pie!”, then boldly answer: “Forty-one, I’m eating one!” It helps.

I applied my friend’s advice that same day. As a child, it seemed to me that eating at the table alone was uninteresting and I didn’t really want to. So this time, grabbing a cheesecake from the house, I ran out into the street. I just sat down on a bench near the irrigation ditch, and then Latip appeared, as if out of the ground. He waddles up to me, like a goose, and, like Grishka, he smiles mockingly:

Bald head, give me some pie!

They agreed or something...

But I remembered Grishka’s advice in time and said loudly:

Forty-one, eating one! - and took a bite of the cheesecake with gusto, feeling completely invulnerable.

But it was not there!

Latip narrowed his eyes slyly and said triumphantly:

Forty-eight, we ask for half!

I didn’t expect such a trick, and Grishka didn’t tell me about it... Or maybe he forgot or didn’t tell me on purpose.

Until my hair grew back, I tried to show myself on the street as little as possible. It was a shame to hear teasing from my own friends about my bald head and to receive shellbans when I didn’t have any goodies with me.

Since then I haven’t had my hair cut at the knee length and have always been left with a forelock.

It was early spring, and my mother said:

Son, now let's go to the bathhouse! Remove the cubes...

This news made me happy at first: it was going to be an interesting tram ride into the city, where my parents rarely took me, and then I was dumbfounded... Although I was little, I already understood that washing in a women’s bathhouse among naked women was not welcomed by the boys. If they find out, they will giggle, point their fingers, and ask questions about how it recently happened to Latip when his mother took him to the bathhouse.

When Grishkin asked: “Well, tell me what you saw there?” Latip puffed for a long time, blushed and finally squeezed out: “Lots and lots of langa!”

The older boys guffawed loudly. They understood what we were talking about. Only Latip kept silent about something else... I learned about this from the same Grishka, and he, in turn, from adults. It turns out that the bath attendant scolded Latipova’s mother and said:

I won't let you into the bathhouse anymore. The guy already needs to get married, and all of you... Eh!..

It was with such sad memories that I came with my mother to the Obukhovskaya bathhouse. Why to Obukhovskaya, on the other side of the city, and not closer?

The night before, I heard my mother and father talking.

Why would you and your child travel so far away? “We could wash ourselves in the bathhouse on Chorsu,” said the father.

There are watering cans, soaps, hair all around... Smells like sour milk... Unhygienic! - Mom answered.

Okay, as you know,” the father waved his hand.

From the parents’ conversation, the word “unhygienic” seemed unclear to me. Something bad was felt in him.

And here my mother and I are sitting on chairs in a long, poorly lit hallway. We are waiting for our turn. And the queue, oh-oh, is long! Some aunts, old ladies, girls. With basins, with bath linen, with brooms, washcloths... A sharp, loud bell, inviting you to wash, moves the line too slowly. And I really don’t like waiting! I fidget in place, turning around. There is pure suffering on my face: will we soon get closer to the cherished door, from which happy aunts, washed, occasionally come out? Mom feels my longing, strokes my back and reassures me: “Be patient a little, son!” My bad mood is also noticed by a girl a little older than me: big-eyed, with large sunny freckles, with a funny red pigtail, the end of which is pulled into a skinny bun. She sits in front, also with her mother, and secretly teases me: she sticks out her tongue, puffs out her cheeks, like my hamster, makes horns...

I try not to pay attention to the girl, but she gets even more angry, and I can’t stand it, I show her my fist.

Who are you? - Mom asks me.

“Don’t let him tease you,” I say.

And the girl is such a viper! - as if nothing had happened, he is already chattering cheerfully about something with his mother.

Finally, the ordeal with the queue ends, and a new test begins for me. Near the locker where clothes are locked, I never want to take off my panties: I’m embarrassed to appear naked! Tears are about to flow from my eyes... Mom spends about five minutes persuading me to undress. He says some soothing words, but I’m afraid to even raise my eyes. Fool! I don’t understand at all: who needs me except my mother? Naked women and girls float by as if I’m not there. They exchange words, laugh... But it seems to me that they are above me. But there is no one left near the lockers. An elderly bath attendant comes up to us, whispers about something with her mother and also leans over me, coos sweetly:

Well, what are you afraid of, kid? See, there's no one around. I'll turn away. Feel free to take off your panties and follow your mother.

The bathhouse attendant’s words give me confidence, and I follow her advice.

Covering my front with a basin, I follow my mother, and we find ourselves in clouds of steam, murmuring and splashing water, many female shadows and muffled voices... Mom chooses a free place on a concrete bench. He scalds him from the gang with boiling water, sits me down with a basin and begins to wash him. And it’s strange: I’m starting to feel better and more comfortable here than in my home trough. And the soap - strawberry - does not sting the eyes so painfully, and the washcloth seems to be softer. And most importantly: no one pays attention to us...

So my mother again filled the basin with clean water, doused me, then brought me more, put it next to me, and smiled:

Splash while I go to the steam room!

“Just faster,” I whined, watching her with a sad look.

I didn’t like plastic boats, ducks and swans at home either: we didn’t take them with us, like others do... What better way to play in a basin of water. Clap your hand, clap again! Just splashes in different directions. While playing, I didn’t even notice how the same girl who was making faces at me in the corridor sneaked up on me. Her braid was unbraided, and I would not have immediately recognized her as an echidna if not for her freckles and big eyes.

She silently sat down next to him.

Boy, what's your name? - asked the echidina.

I didn't really want to talk to her.

Kolya,” I stammered.

And I’m Katya,” the girl introduced herself.

As if I really needed her name!

And how old are you?

I spread my fingers on my right hand and bent my little finger on my left.

Five and a half,” my new friend realized.

“I guessed right,” I said.

Fi-i, tyutya-grostyutya, - the echidina whistled with some superiority. - I thought you were older... And I’m already finishing first grade!

I felt offended.

“Don’t think that I’m small,” I said, making excuses. - I can already read. I read the fairy tale “Ryaba Hen” myself.

Ha-ha-ha,” the echidina giggled, poked me in the nose with a soapy finger and, splashing with rubber slippers in the puddles, melted into vapor.

Her choking voice was heard from somewhere on the side.

Can you imagine, mommy,” she shared the news with her mother. - This Kolka already reads, but goes to the women's bathhouse. Ha ha ha!

Tears of humiliation choked me, I was ready to roar from such shame, not to mention what I would do to this viper if I were older and stronger...

And then a shadow grew near me.

Boy, have you been offended? - asked the shadow.

I began to raise my head with difficulty: the shadow was so high that my eyes could barely reach the top of its head. It was an unfamiliar aunt. Aunt-giant, Aunt-Gulliver, like from a fairy tale. I have never seen such tall people anywhere before. She smiled. Such an aunt will not offend anyone.

No,” I shook my wet forelock.

But then, fortunately, my mother appeared.

What's happened? - she asked worriedly.

“It seemed to me that the boy was crying,” said the unfamiliar giant aunt, and walked away to the side.

After the bath, my mother proudly told me that my aunt, whom I took for a giantess, was a famous basketball player.

This was my first and last trip to the women's bathhouse.

Touching did not deceive - the forest along the river was strong, pine, smelling of dry moss and slender, centuries-old trunks quacking in the wind. It was about a kilometer from the border of the field to the water, so there was no need to be particularly afraid of the fence: a village of seven households is not capable of destroying such thickets either for firewood or for outbuildings, even if it tries very hard. Lumpun turned out to be quite a decent river: about five meters wide, with clear water and a sandy bottom, over which small fish were hanging around. Andrei immediately wanted to go fishing - but he had no idea whether in the sixteenth century there were such simple things as a fishing line or a fish hook? Although, you can always order a hook from a blacksmith, and use thin twine instead of fishing line. You can definitely get a sinker - if there are squeakers, there must be lead.

Diligently turning away from the flywheels and buttering up - what is he going to do with them? “Matyakh walked a couple of kilometers along the shore, then turned back to the village and stopped at the edge of a yellow field of rye.

- My estate! – he said solemnly and listened to what was happening in his soul.

Nothing. I felt like a twenty-year-old conscript sergeant, and I stayed that way. I wanted to go home. Hug mom, give her a drink and cuddle Verka from the apartment opposite, drive Formula 1 on the computer, fall into night club. To hit some sucker in the head who imagines himself to be a cool Rambo. There was always a feeling in my soul that there was only six months left before the order. The service is about to end - and knock-knock, Christmas trees flash outside the windows of the fast train.

Andrey shook his head, moved along the field to the nearest boundary line and turned towards Rez. He walked for about five hours anyway. The end of summer is just around the corner. It will be dark soon.

True, the sergeant calculated the time poorly, and when he reached the house, it really began to get dark.

- Father! – Lukerya saw him from the porch. - We are already worried. Varka heated the bathhouse as ordered and burned the candles. What should I call you by your patronymic, boyar?

At the first moment, Andrei was surprised that a woman almost one and a half times older than him was going to address her by her first name and patronymic; he was about to brush it off, but he caught himself in time. After all, he is not just a neighbor here, but a boyar. Master. And Lukerya, by the way, is his slave, no matter how strange it sounds. Boyar Umilny gave it.

It was based on the boyar’s name that he chose his patronymic:

- Andrei Ilyich! “If something happens, you can always say that you didn’t remember your father, but named yourself after your savior.”

“That’s how you’d go and take a steam bath, Andrei Ilyich.” There is no right for you, and the water is cooling.

- Yes, behind the house, father. Between the apple trees, so that, God forbid, a fire would not spread to the house...

It turned out that the bathhouse was not visible from the road because of the house, which obscured it along with the entire garden with its bulk. The door, illuminated from the inside, stood out as a bright rectangle, and the sergeant was once again surprised at how bright the candles seemed in the dark. In the dressing room, he took off his belt set, undressed, grabbed a candle and padded barefoot into the steam room. It wasn't exactly hot here, but the oblong stove with a boiler stuck in the middle provided enough heat to relax and sweat to your heart's content. But as soon as he stretched out on the shelf, there was a loud slam. Entrance door. Matyakh rose up on his elbows, cursing himself for not taking a weapon and looking around the room. Two wooden ladles, three tubs, a tub, a trough. You can somehow try to brush off the bucket if the enemy is alone and without a spear or sword...

But two naked figures quickly leaked inside, both of which were already quite familiar to Andrey.

- Uh... What are you doing? – he asked hoarsely, covering his shame with his hands. Meanwhile, the “shame”, which had not seen a woman’s body for who knows how many months, was desperately trying to get out, stretch out, straining with all its might, trying to peek out at least the edge of the flesh.

“It’s us,” Varya said cheerfully, as if this explained something, and splashed something on the stove near the chimney. A menacing hissing was heard, the room was filled with clouds of sour beer-smelling steam, and now the bathhouse became really hot.

“Now let’s steam it...” Lukerya rustled the broom, moved closer, decisively laid the sergeant, who did not know what to do, on the shelf, and walked the hot leaves over the very skin. - Varya, look, the boundary is rooted to the spot. We're being careful here...

Andrei felt the branches of the broom tickling his scrotum, touching his manhood, which was already ready to explode from long abstinence and such inhuman abuse.

“Andrei Ilyich,” Varya came close, slid the pink nipples of her large, but well-shaped girlish breasts over the shoulder, and pulled him off the shelf. - You and I are a broom guys...

She turned her back to Matyahu, leaned over, almost pushing him away with her still cool pink ass, and the sergeant could not stand it any longer. Surrendering to his eternal instincts, with one strong blow he rushed towards the calling flesh, and if he had missed, he probably would have pierced the peasant woman through and through. Varya howled and scratched the damp wall with her nails - but it was too late to beg for mercy. Andrei could not stop now even under the fear of death, he beat forward over and over again, feeling how everything in his lower abdomen seemed to turn to stone, harden, become insensitive - until it suddenly exploded with hot bliss, taking away all his strength to the last drop.

Matakh retreated, sat down on the shelf, no longer having the opportunity to be embarrassed, or to enjoy, or to rejoice - and Lukerya immediately took possession of him:

- We’ll add a couple in a minute... That’s good... And with a broom, a broom...

The languor was replaced by warmth, the warmth by pleasure. Meanwhile, they lightly quilted it a couple of times with birch branches, doused it, turned it over, carved it again and doused it. This time he was able to roll over on his own.

“You can’t see the boundary at all...” the plump woman sang quietly and quickly whispered something in the girl’s ear. She giggled and moved closer, hot water poured it on Andrey's head, leaned on his chest, at the same time pressing him to the boards right hand:

- Hey, boyar, there’s no beard yet. But we will wash our hair, we will brush our hair, we will comb our hair...

Under her jokes, Matyakh felt someone again showing a lively and quite tangible interest in his manhood. And the latter quickly reciprocates. But he couldn’t rudely push away the girl doing her hair. Moreover, I haven’t experienced any unpleasant feelings yet. Quite the contrary. Although, of course, he showed no interest in Lukerye. But he didn’t shy away either. Andrey quickly ceased to understand: was he being caressed or raped?

However, one of the main organs of the body, as often happens, had its own opinion on this matter, and soon a wave of pleasure again swept from bottom to top, sweeping away stupid thoughts. Varya splashed more beer on the stove, and she and the hostess began to take turns brushing each other with brooms and dousing themselves. And when, after some time, they remembered the landowner again, Matyakh almost completely came to his senses.

“Look how it’s growing...” Lukerya nodded to the girl, stroking the young man’s manhood with impudent spontaneity.

“Why should he wither…” without waiting for anything else to be done to him, Andrei jumped off the shelf, hugged Varvara, sat her down in his place, slowly stroked one breast, the other, and slid his palm down between her legs. The cook squeaked pitifully, but did not dare to resist. The sergeant spread her knees, just as slowly entered and began to make his way with short strong blows to an unknown but desired goal, while stroking her hair, touching her nipples, shoulders, and lips with his fingertips. Now it was the girl’s turn to moan from powerlessness and pleasure, and the feeling of endless power over her allowed her to explode again with immense sweetness and drown in blissful bliss.

Having come to his senses a little for the third time, Matyakh hastily rinsed off and left the steam room away. He realized that he would not be able to withstand such “washing” for long. Health is not enough. Having difficulty distinguishing the road in the darkness, he reached the porch, stood up, dived into the entryway, turned left by touch, found a trestle bed and stretched out on it to his full height.

The candle in the door appeared when he was almost dozing off.

– Should I bring some pike heads, Andrei Ilyich? – he recognized Varya’s voice.

“Bring it,” Matyakh stood up and shook his head, driving away sleep. “And they told me to lay out the trestle bed.”

“I’ll do it, Andrei Ilyich,” the girl nodded obediently, and a cheerful, perky thought suddenly appeared in the sergeant’s head:

“It’s good to be a landowner...”