Mental illness -- Fiction; Russia -- Fiction; Russian fiction -- Translations into English; Teachers -- Fiction
"Yes, I am," said Liudmilla laughing. "Look, my feet are bare," she
said, drawling out her words in a half-ashamed, half-provoking way.
Sasha shrugged his shoulders and said:
"You're always spruce. Well, let's begin to work. Have you got any
nails?"
"Wait a bit," replied Liudmilla. "Sit still a moment with me. You seem
as if you had come on business and found it a bore to talk to me."
Sasha flushed and said tenderly:
"Dear Liudmillotchka, I would like to sit with you as long as you want,
until you drove me out, but I've got my lessons to do."
Liudmilla sighed and said slowly:
"You're getting handsomer, Sasha."
Sasha reddened, laughed and protruded the end of his curled-up tongue.
"What a thing to say! You might think I was a girl from the way you
talk."
"A beautiful face, but what kind of body? You might show it, at least
to the waist," entreated Liudmilla caressingly, and put her arm round
his shoulder.
"What an idea!" said Sasha, ashamed and vexed at the same time.
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Liudmilla in a different voice. "What
have you got to hide?"
"Someone might come," said Sasha.
"Who'll come in?" said Liudmilla as gaily and carelessly as before.
"We can lock the door and then no one will come in."
Liudmilla walked quickly up to the door and bolted it. Sasha felt
that Liudmilla was serious. He flushed so deeply that little drops of
perspiration came out on his forehead and he said:
"We oughtn't to do it, Liudmillotchka."
"Stupid! Why not?" asked Liudmilla in a persuasive voice.
She pulled Sasha to her and began to undo his blouse. Sasha resisted
and caught her wrists. His face looked frightened--and an equal
shame possessed him, and these emotions made him feel suddenly
weak. Liudmilla contracted her eyebrows and began to undress him
determinedly. She took off his belt and somehow pulled off his blouse.
Sasha resisted more and more desperately. They tussled with each other
about the room, stumbling against tables and chairs. A pungent scent
came from Liudmilla, intoxicated Sasha and weakened him.
With a quick thrust against his chest Liudmilla pushed Sasha on to the
sofa. A button flew off from the shirt she was pulling at. Liudmilla
bared Sasha's shoulder, and began to pull his arm out of the sleeve.
Sasha resisted and accidently struck Liudmilla's cheek with his hand.
He did not want to strike her, but the blow fell hard on Liudmilla's
cheek. Liudmilla shook, staggered, her cheeks went a violent red, but
she did not let go of Sasha.
"You wicked boy to fight!" she exclaimed in a choking voice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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