A story about a winter bathhouse with a woman. Erotic stories - bathhouse
Attention horny people, there are no porn stories on the site.
Unfortunately, my grandmother’s back was aching. She treated herself in a unique way - she asked me to “trample”. Grandma got down on all fours by the sofa, I climbed on her back with my feet and trampled on her. The old woman groaned and turned first one side, then the other. For two or three days the pain subsided, but the moment came when it was necessary to treat my back seriously. Then the grandmother went to the bathhouse.
The bathhouse was old; convicts, who in the last century were driven to Siberia through our city, washed themselves in it. Two black stokers heated it with coal. In winter, the bathhouse steamed like a pot of potatoes. White steam was pouring out not only from the chimney, but also from under the roof and from the windows. After a hundred years of bathing labor, the bricks became damp and did not hold heat well. Therefore, the bathhouse began to be heated at night.
Grandma walked towards the opening. A birch broom stuck out of her homemade bag. My grandmother spent the whole day in the bathhouse. And not just in a bathhouse, but in a steam room. I still don’t understand how her small, dry body could withstand hours of torture by heat and rods...
On this day, my duty was to bring my grandmother from the bathhouse. Late in the evening I came to the already empty bathhouse corridor, opened the door to the women's department and, overcoming the desire to look in, shouted: “Auntie, call Grandma Zvereva!”
There was laughter outside the door, then the bathhouse attendant came out and said: “Sit down, son, wait. Your grandmother was just taken out of the steam room...” Half an hour later, a flushed, rejuvenated grandmother came out, and we went home. After that, her back didn’t bother her for a month.
Untitled
They say, citizens, the baths in America are excellent. For example, a citizen will come there, throw his laundry into a special box and go wash himself. He won’t even worry - they say, it’s theft or loss, he won’t even take the number. Well, maybe another restless American will say to the bathhouse attendant:
Gut bye, they say, take a look.
That's all. This American will wash himself, come back, and they will serve him clean linen - washed and ironed. Foot wraps, I suppose whiter than snow. The underpants are sewn up and patched. Life! And our baths are fine too. But worse. Although you can also wash yourself. The only problem we have is with the numbers. Last Saturday I went to the bathhouse (I don’t think I should go to America) - they give me two numbers. One for underwear, the other for a coat with a hat. Where would a naked man put his number plates? Frankly speaking, there is nowhere. There are no pockets. All around is the stomach and legs. There is only one sin with numbers. You can't tie it to a beard. Well, I tied a number to my legs so as not to lose it at once. I entered the bathhouse. The license plates are now slapping on the legs. Walking is boring. But we need to walk. That's why we need a gang. Without a gang, what is washing? There is only one sin. I'm looking for a gang. I see one citizen in three gangs is washing himself. He stands in one, washes his head in another, and holds the third with his left hand so that they don’t steal it. I pulled the third gang, I wanted, by the way, to take it for myself, but the citizen would not let me out.
What are you doing, he says, stealing other people’s gangs? If I blurt out, he says, you won’t be happy with the gang between your eyes.
I speak:
It’s not a tsar’s regime, I say, a regime to be blurted out by gangs. Selfishness, I say, what. “It’s necessary,” I say, “to wash others too.” Not in the theater, I say.
And he turned his back and washed himself. “Don’t stand,” I think, “over his soul. Now, I think, he will wash himself for three days on purpose.” I moved on. An hour later, I saw that some guy was gaping and let go of the gang. He bent down to get the soap or was daydreaming - I don’t know. But I only took that gang for myself. Now there is a gang, but there is nowhere to sit. And while standing to wash - what kind of washing? There is only one sin. Fine. I'm standing, holding a gang in my hand, washing myself. And all around, dear fathers, the washing is going on spontaneously. One washes his pants, another rubs his underpants, the third twirls something else. Just, let's say, he washed himself - he was dirty again. Splash, devils. And there is so much noise from washing - I don’t feel like washing. You can’t hear where you rub the soap. There is only one sin. “Well,” I think, “they’re off to the swamp. I’ll wash up at home.” I'm going to the dressing room. Linen is provided for your room. I look - everything is mine, the pants are not mine.
Citizens, I say. - Mine had a hole here. And where on these Avons?
And the bath attendant says:
We, he says, are not assigned to the holes. Not in the theater, he says.
Fine. I put on these pants and go get my coat. They don't give you a coat - they require a number. And the number on his leg is forgotten. You need to undress. I took off my pants and looked for the number, but there was no number. The rope is here on the leg, but there is no piece of paper. The paper was washed away. I give the bathhouse attendant a rope - he doesn’t want it.
By the rope,” he says, “I don’t give it away.” This, he says, every citizen will cut ropes - you can’t get enough of it. Wait,” he says, “when the audience disperses, I’ll reveal what’s left.”
I speak:
Little brother, what if the rubbish remains? Not in the theater, I say. - Give it out, I say, according to signs. One, I say, is a torn pocket, the other is missing. As for the buttons, I say, the top one is there, but the bottom ones are not in sight.
Still, he gave it away. And I didn’t take the rope. I got dressed and went outside. Suddenly I remembered: I forgot the soap. Came back again. They don't let you in with a coat.
Take off your clothes, they say.
I speak:
I, citizens, cannot undress for the third time. Not in the theater, I say. - Then at least give me the cost of the soap.
Do not give. They don’t give it - it’s not necessary. I went without soap. Of course, the reader may be curious: what kind of bathhouse is this? Where is she? Address? What kind of bath? Ordinary. Which is a dime.
1924. M.M. ZOSCHENKO. Blue Book.
RIG website An old village bathhouse stood on the bank of the river. It was probably built in the 30s of the last century; before that it was small and dilapidated.
In general, I was breathing my last breath for a long time. It was heated twice a week - on Saturday and Sunday. On the first day, women washed, on the second, men. In theory, a long time ago it was time to build a new, more modern bathhouse, with two branches, which would work on other days of the week. Finally, fortunately for the villagers, a new chief arrived in the village, that is, he was actually listed as chairman of the district executive committee, but the population, as usual, officials called: superiors. So I really didn’t like this toyon old bathhouse, it was apparently scary for him to even wash there (although such a word had not yet appeared in everyday life, but it seems to me that it perfectly expresses the feeling of that toyon: ugh, they say!). And at his command, soon a girl appeared, right next to the old woman. new bathhouse, smelling nice of fresh wood, as expected with two compartments and a different schedule. Well, the old one remained standing for the time being. Either there was no one to demolish it, or she didn’t bother the new boss. Left out of work, it rapidly deteriorated and made a dangerous tilt towards the river. In the summer, children splashed in the river under it all day long. In winter and late autumn, the bathhouse frightened rare passers-by with its gloomy, ominous appearance. There were many rumors about this bathhouse even during its operation.
They say that one day a young guy died in a bathhouse. According to rumors, he is completely healthy, a qualified athlete in freestyle wrestling, for whom the local coach predicted a glorious future. By the way, this guy no longer lived in this village, he studied in the city at some school and came to summer holidays home. His mother worked in this bathhouse: she sold tickets, was a bath attendant and a cleaner, and her children - she had either five or six of them - helped her heat and clean. This son was her favorite, since the rest did not have any talents and studied so-so. Of course, the woman was proud of her athlete son and placed the trust in him big hopes. That day, as usual, he washed himself in the bathhouse with his younger brother; after washing, they had to thoroughly wash the shelves, scald the wooden benches, iron basins and wash the stone floor. The younger one's friends were waiting near the bathhouse, and he began to whine: please let me go. Brother, what to do, let him go.
The mother, without waiting for the eldest, began to worry and, together with the other children, went to find out what was the matter. A guy with no signs of life was lying face down on the very top shelf of the steam room. A grimace of fear was frozen on his face. The doctors who arrived on call confirmed death from cardiac arrest. And why this happened, no one could say anything.
When a young man dies for no apparent reason, the question inevitably arises: how could this happen? Why did this happen to him? After the funeral, all sorts of rumors arose throughout the village, which intensified after the arrival of the deceased’s younger brother from the army. It must be said that the brothers were surprisingly similar to each other, as if cloned. In addition, the youngest imitated the elder in everything and was more attached to him than anyone else in the family. For him, such an early and absurd death of his brother was a shock. They say that he was seen sitting on the shore near the old bathhouse with a frozen, as if frozen face. It would be better if he cried, the compassionate villagers said and advised Varvara, his mother, to send him to study as soon as possible. Soon this happened: the guy left to enroll in the same school where his brother had previously studied.
After he left, one of his friends told amazing thing: it turns out that the guy blamed one local girl for the death of his brother - Raika Ch., who drowned four years ago while swimming in the river under this bathhouse. She was not found immediately, the current in this place is quite fast, the girl’s body was carried far beyond the village, and in the end she was caught by fishermen. This girl had just graduated from school, but she didn’t go anywhere like other graduates. As it turned out later, she was pregnant. And it’s my fault, as they said knowledgeable people, none other than that guy who died in the bathhouse. That year, he had just returned from the army and at the very first dances in a village club he noticed and singled out in the crowd of high school girls who, by hook or by crook, managed to get into adult dances, the quite mature-looking Raika. They started dating. Of course, the girl’s parents were against their minor daughter dating an adult guy and prevented this in every possible way. Thanks to their resistance, the romance flared up even more. Girlfriends carried notes from one side to the other, and the young people still managed to meet. And if the love of the girl, for whom this was the first serious feeling, flared up more and more, then the guy seemed to begin to cool down. Perhaps someone from a higher level reined him in; there was one such zealous instructor in the Komsomol district committee, who herself would not have minded getting her hands on such a guy, especially since they were already running out for a year. And then some young girl gets in the way... And maybe the villagers didn’t even know how far their business had gone.
In general, by spring the guy was, so to speak, deflated and did not know where to hide from the girl in love. At the same time, he was apparently afraid of her parents and could not immediately take her and send her away, and when he found out about her pregnancy, he almost shit his pants. It was just after the prom. They met on the river bank, where they had their last frank conversation. Now, of course, it is difficult to speculate what happened between them, what he said to her, but from that day on the girl literally began to melt with melancholy. Cheerful and mischievous by nature, she locked herself at home and did not go out anywhere, stopped taking care of herself, and became ugly. Most likely, the parents also contributed, especially the tongue-tied mother. One day, the neighboring girls invited her to swim near the old bathhouse. That day it was a very hot, stuffy day, and the girl reluctantly went with the girls to the river. The path lay past the bathhouse, in the courtyard of which she saw her love. He was doing something there, it seemed he was chopping wood, and on the rubble sat the guy’s new sweetheart - that same Komsomol activist, all dressed up, in a playful sundress, and laughing loudly. Carried away by the conversation, the guy didn’t even look towards the group of girls.
In about half an hour, Raya will drown, and the girls, these little piggies, will not be able to save her. A terrible thunderstorm will begin, and when they miss them and run to the motorboats, it will be too late. So no one will know if it was tragic accident or Raya committed suicide from unhappy love. After Raina’s death, the guy quickly left, so the instructor was left with her nose. They talked about this incident, groaned and soon forgot. Every year in this village, located on the banks of the Lena, people, mostly young people, drowned.
And a year later they started talking about this bathhouse bad stories. According to rumors, late visitors to the bathhouse began to be frightened by a young girl who suddenly appeared in front of them in the steam room. She looked like a drowned woman, with long flowing hair, with a crazy look, she fumbled with her hands in front of her, as if she was looking for someone and wanted to drag her with her.
Now they began to enter the steam room only in groups of three people, no less, and if you don’t go at all, then what kind of bath is that?! The women did not seem to be touched by the bathhouse ghost. Somehow it appeared in front of that guy’s brother: he, as usual, came to help his mother with the cleaning. The bathhouse was still warm, so he decided to wash himself first, take a steam bath, climbed onto the shelf and lay down. And he even dozed off a little, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a strange white figure appeared in front of him, seeming to sway in the steamy air. He immediately woke up from fright, but the figure did not melt, but, on the contrary, walked towards him, stretching out its arms towards him and baring its teeth. The air in the steam room was filled with a sickening, putrid smell. From horror, he seemed to pass out for a minute, and when he came to his senses, he heard voices in the locker room younger brothers. He didn’t tell them anything so as not to scare them, although he understood who it was. It was Raya, she was probably looking for her brother and mistook him for him. Perhaps she was scared off by her brothers, who arrived in time. Or maybe she only needed a brother. Who knows... And she still found in the end the one whom she had been waiting for all this time and whom she had been hunting for...
Yana PROTODIAKONOVA,
"Echo of the Capital"
Today I want to tell you one funny story which happened to me in the village.
In the evening in our village before the holiday, it is customary to heat the bathhouse, but no one likes to go alone.
The four of us gathered in the bathhouse: me, my cousin, her husband and my brother. And our bathhouse consists of three sections.
The dressing room, there we have chairs, a table, an electric kettle, tea leaves and, most importantly, playing cards.
The steam room is small, but there are two shelves: one higher, the other lower.
And the bathhouse, they only wash there.
So, the four of us came to the bathhouse. We looked at the degrees in the steam room, it seemed too low for us, and we began to play cards (we all sat dressed). And then our boys decided who would go for a steam bath and who would wash when.
The boys went to take a steam bath first, and we remained sitting in the dressing room. My sister and I got bored, and we went to the bathhouse - there is a window that looks out onto the steam room. We wanted to scare the boys. We slowly went into the bathhouse, went to the window, and there it was a bummer. They hung a towel on the window. They screwed us over, in a word. Well, then my sister and I went to the dressing room and began to think new plan laugh at them.
While we were thinking, the guys left the steam room and immediately went to the bathhouse. And we go to the steam room with her. Accordingly, they took the towel. We
hung theirs. And we decided to laugh at them in a different way - look out the window, and then scare them. But they screwed us over again. They hung a towel on that side too. Well, we got completely bored, and we were lying on the shelves, warming up, when suddenly a towel fell from the window. And there were two faces in the window... She and I managed to crawl under the benches so that they wouldn’t see us naked.
Well, here we were in a good mood, and we went to the dressing room to cool off a little. I told my sister to sit quietly and I would make fun of the boys. I slowly left the dressing room and walked up to the door that leads to the bathhouse. I suddenly open it and run into the steam room. All you could hear from the bathhouse was screaming and yelling.
I left the steam room as if nothing had happened, our boys came out of the bathhouse, both angry. And they said:
- Well, hold on, we will take revenge on you for such a joke...
Hmm, we won't be able to take revenge. My sister and I went to the bathhouse in towels, and the boys remained sitting in the dressing room; I made the dressing room door a drawer. ® Well, so that they definitely don’t do this to us. Entering the bathhouse, I hung a towel on the window.
And we began to wash, calmly listening to every rustle. When suddenly the door to the bathhouse opens. However, we did not hear them move the box away from their door. Olya (my sister) grabs a basin and covers herself with it; she was lucky, and the basin turned out to be small. And she is plump for me. And I stood behind the stove. I only had a ladle in my hand, since at that moment I was pouring hot water. A
They, the pests, stood and watched as we covered ourselves, and laughed at us; we ourselves almost died with laughter.
They left and said:
- Wash calmly...
Well, yes, you can easily wash yourself with them, my sister and I put a stick in the door so that they wouldn’t open it. ® But outside the door we hear a rumble, that they are moving something there. Well, we spat on them and began to wash ourselves calmly. We decided that we would open the door later. And they shout to us:
“You won’t leave the bathhouse and you won’t get into the dressing room.”
We didn't take their words seriously. We washed ourselves and began to open the door, we both wrapped ourselves in towels, Olya wanted to open it with a run
the door, but it turned out that there was nothing at the door - it flew out of the bathhouse like a champagne cork. From the dressing room we only heard laughter, my sister was already laughing herself, I didn’t even have the strength to hold a towel. We safely entered the dressing room and tried to kick the boys out so we could get dressed. They didn’t let us get dressed, so we then took our things and went to the steam room to get dressed. Sister held the door
and I got dressed, and then vice versa. Well, here we decided to laugh at them too. Since they were both pulling the door, my sister and I will let go of the door one, two, three....
We let go of the door, the guys fall onto the chair.
This is how we took revenge on them for the fall of Olya.
That's how we had fun going to the bathhouse.
The story is real 😀
Every year in Maundy Thursday On the eve of Easter, Orthodox Christians wash away accumulated sins. It is generally accepted that going to the bathhouse on this day is a primordial domestic tradition which Russians have followed for many centuries. In fact, this is a legend created by foreigners who have never been to Rus' anywhere except Moscow and large cities. Only the wealthiest Russian people could afford their own bathhouse. The majority steamed in Russian ovens, risking burning and getting dirty in soot. Even at the end of the 19th century, there were entire provinces where residents for centuries washed only twice - at birth and after death. Not less legends created later and around public baths in cities. But, judging by the documents, family rooms, for example, in the legendary baths were used not by families, but by prostitutes to receive clients, while family people did not go there for fear of contracting bad diseases.
"They come out as God created them"
True, a considerable number of residents Russian Empire They solved the problem of choosing between a bathhouse and a stove much simpler - they didn’t wash at all. In 1876, Alexander II appointed chamberlain V. Charykov at the head of the Minsk province. The new governor arrived at his new destination from Vyatka, where for six years he ruled a vast forest region with some success. So one could imagine his surprise when he learned that the inhabitants of the territories under his jurisdiction from now on did not have baths, did not wash in stoves and never bathed in rivers and other bodies of water. There were many reasons given for this. It was believed that the Catholic landowners, not having the habit of baths themselves, did not accustom the peasants to them either. Perhaps it was a matter of constant severe fatigue, due to which the peasants did not have enough strength not only to build a bathhouse, but also to simply bring water for washing in the hallway, as was done in the southern parts of the country. Swimming in rivers and lakes was not common outside the Minsk province. After all, the swimming season lasted from June 24, from Ivan Kupala, until Ilyin’s day - July 20, and besides, the water even at that time not in every body of water in the middle zone warmed up above 15-17 degrees.
However, in the villages of Russian Old Believers who fled from the “Nikon heresy” outside the Moscow state, everything was completely different: on Saturdays and before holidays, bathhouses were heated, and children splashed on the river shallows in the summer.
Chamberlain Charykov decided that hygiene came first and issued a strict decree on the widespread construction of baths and the organization of bathing places on rivers, lakes and ponds. But the authorities in the counties were in no hurry to implement the strict instructions. As a rule, all district leaders referred to the lack of funds for the purchase of timber and the construction of bathhouses, as well as the fact that the bottom of the rivers was swampy and the peasants could not be driven into the water by any force. But from the Pinsk district they reported that no one wants to go to the built baths, and in their justification they cited a local proverb: “Pinchuk washes himself twice in his life - at birth and after death.” However, the governor insisted on his own, and the baths were built with a creak. But this did not bring any results. One of the doctors who inspected the province wrote in the 1890s that, while driving through the districts, he constantly encountered the ruins of bathhouses built by order of Charykov. Only a few survived, in the district towns, which were used by officials and teachers sent from the Great Russian provinces.
The same author stated that hydrophobia in the Minsk province affects not only peasants, but also representatives of other classes. And as an example, he told the story of a priest’s widow, who had a tangle - her hair became tangled from lack of care and turned into tow, which was impossible to comb. The easiest thing would be to cut your hair, but folk beliefs, in this case, the mat penetrated into the head, so the priest endured it as long as she could, and then, when the hair became too heavy and threatened to break her neck, she fell ill and was in this state for 42 years. Moreover, as the doctor noted, she was looked after all this time by two daughters who did not marry in order to care for their mother. And there were many similar examples in those places, as the author of the report stated, although not so grotesque.
Much more effective means The introduction of baths in places where they had never existed in the first place resulted in a transition from conscription to compulsory military service. During their service, soldiers and sailors became accustomed to baths and cleanliness, and those of them who, after serving, returned to their native places, often tried to acquire their own steam room. But an even greater role in the spread of baths was played by the growth of peasant incomes. After all, the bathhouse, as in former times, remained a symbol of prestige and wealth. Due to the revolution and wars, the process, however, was somewhat delayed, and in many Russian villages traditional Russian baths appeared only many decades later - in the era of developed socialism.
"These rooms are breeding grounds for infection"
It was much more difficult for city residents to acquire their own bathhouse. However, these subjects of the empire could always use the services of public and industrial baths. The latter, in factories and factories, were subject to constant criticism from the progressive Russian public. In almost all enterprises, a considerable fee for using the bathhouse - 5-7 kopecks per session - was deducted from the workers' salaries, and the owners strove to save on fuel or bathhouse equipment, which did not happen in private bathhouses. St. Petersburg artist M. Grigoriev wrote:
“At the entrance to the vestibule of the bathhouse, the first thing that caught your eye was a large icon case with a lamp, which was supposed to call on the grace of God for trading. On the sides there were counters on which they sold brooms, soap, sponges, washcloths, towels, socks, soaked and frozen apples, gingerbread ", lollipops, beer, lemonade, kvass. There was also a cash register; special metal cases contained rolls of tickets, which the cashier tore off."
Private baths, as a rule, were heated and maintained much better than factory ones, but most often they turned out to be much more expensive.
“Pay,” St. Petersburg writers testified, “was by class - 5, 10, 20, 40 kopecks and family rooms for 1 ruble. In the cheap classes (5 and 10 kopecks) in the locker rooms, the benches were painted wooden, clothes were handed over to the headman. expensive baths (20 and 40 kopecks) had soft sofas and ottomans in white covers, outerwear I put it on the hanger, but the dress and underwear did not give up. The soap benches were wooden, unpainted. The family rooms had a dressing room with an ottoman and soft chairs in white covers and a soap room with a shelf, a bathtub, a shower and a large wooden bench.”
True, in many bathhouses family rooms were called so purely nominally.
“In order to be able to wash with the whole family,” Grigoriev recalled, “the baths had special rooms and on the signs they wrote: “Family baths.” In fact, these rooms were occupied by prostitutes with their gentlemen, and even by patients with obvious signs of bad diseases. body. It was believed that these rooms were breeding grounds for infection, and people avoided going to them.”
Wealthy gentlemen, as a rule, preferred washing with the help of bathhouse attendants:
"IN expensive classes“,” testified the same source, “for steaming and washing, they hired bathhouse attendants who were experts in their field: a broom played in their hands, at first politely and gently touching all parts of the visitor’s body, gradually the force of the blow grew stronger until encouraging interjections were heard . Here, on the part of the bathhouse attendant, there must be a subtle instinct in order to stop in time and not offend the person lying down. Then the bathhouse attendant proceeded to a home-grown massage: he seemed to chop the visitor’s body with the ribs of his palms, then rubbed them with patting and, finally, with an unexpectedly strong and dexterous movement he brought the visitor to a sitting position.”
Despite the hardships of the work, serving in the bathhouse was a good way to get out into the world.
“The bathhouse attendants did not receive a salary,” Zasosov and Pyzin testified, “they were content with tips. Their work was hard, but they still tried to get into the artel of bathhouse attendants, since the income was good and the work was clean. In addition, at the bathhouse there was a hostel for singles and single. Stokers, cashiers and laundresses were hired and received salaries. The most profitable position was with the bellhops family rooms, there were a lot of tips for different services."
It happened that the path from serving in a bathhouse to owning one’s own business did not always turn out to be righteous. St. Petersburg writers of everyday life recalled the story of the cashier from the bathhouses of the Tarasov brothers, which thundered at the beginning of the 20th century:
“At first, in his youth, he worked as a bellhop at the hotel rooms. A broken-hearted, very helpful, handsome Yaroslavl soon attracted attention with his efficiency and intelligence and was promoted to the position of cashier of the baths. As the years passed, Nikita grew fat and with his handsome appearance began to resemble his face and figure pa famous composer Glazunov. But later it was discovered that his resemblance to this noble, impeccable man was purely external. In fact, he turned out to be a big “masurik”: in addition to Tarasov’s tickets, he ordered rolls of his own tickets and began to quickly trade them: one ticket was real - Tarasov’s, the other was his own. The profitability of the bathhouses began to noticeably decrease, and the figure of the cashier began to gain weight. The cashier began to dress according to latest fashion, wore a tie pin and diamond cufflinks and a double-breasted gold chain, on one end is her gold watch, and on the other is a gold stopwatch, which he needs when playing on the run. But he had a small salary, 70 rubles, and an apartment near a bathhouse with heating and lighting. In addition to this scam, he committed commercial fraud when accepting coal and firewood for the bathhouse and had income from suppliers of beer and lemonade. His art was opened and reported to the owner. Tarasov said: “Kick out this scoundrel immediately.” The manager reported: “He has a family, we need to give him time to settle in.” - “To hell with him, give him two weeks, and then provide him with a horse to transport the property.” Tarasov and his manager turned out to be naive people: Nikitka had already rented two bathhouses in St. Petersburg, which neither the Tarasovs nor their manager knew anything about. He got ready in two days, he already had an apartment at the rented bathhouses, and threw such a housewarming party with champagne that the invitees just gasped.”
...The sun had not yet risen, and Mishka was already on Badger Forest. There, about three kilometers from the village, stood an empty Serogon house. Mishka made another walk to the village, brought fishing gear and, returning back, covered his tracks with spruce branches.
Now he felt safe, he lit a hot potbelly stove, boiled some potatoes, and ate with appetite.
The sun was already high when he went to the river to set the tops. From the high bank one could see the indescribable beauty of a forest river covered with snow. The bear stood for a long time, enchanted, admiring the sparkling winter world. On the opposite side of the river, on a steep bank, stood a snow-covered dacha, cut into two floors from selected timber. former director timber industry enterprise, and now a cool businessman - a timber merchant. Its windows were decorated with ornate carvings, and a spacious bathhouse was located below the river. The dacha was not yet inhabited. When Mishka left for St. Petersburg, craftsmen from the city built a fireplace in the upper room and were decorating the rooms. Now there was no one here. And Mishka even thought that it would be nice for him to live at this dacha until spring. All the same, until the snow melts, the owners will not get here. But he was immediately frightened by this thought, remembering that the police were supposed to be hunting for him.
He went down to the river, cut the ice across the riverbed with an ax, filled the hole with spruce branches so that the fish could only pass in one place, and cut out a wide wormwood under the top.
Soon he finished his work and went to the hut to rest from his labors. The hut was small and cramped. But there was a special forest comfort in it. Mishka threw spruce branches on the bunk and collapsed in all his clothes on the fragrant, resinous bedding, rejoicing at the peace he had finally found.
Mishka woke up from strange sounds filling the forest. It seemed that a landing force of aliens had landed in Badger Forest, producing incredible, rumbling sounds that shook the hundred-year-old pines. The bear fell off the bunk and stepped outside the hut doors.
Prostitute, prostitute, prostitute! - thundered and howled in the forest. - Night butterfly, but who is to blame here?
The music came from the direction of the river. The bear carefully walked towards the shore. There were cars parked at the director's dacha, thick smoke rising from the chimneys to the sky, the bathhouse was heating up, doors were slamming, music was blasting at full blast, and every now and then the sound of boisterous girlish laughter could be heard.
Mishka's heart began to beat anxiously. He hid behind the bushes and, holding back the excitement that rose in his throat, began to watch what was happening...
He saw how she went down to the bathhouse funny company. The director of their timber industry enterprise walked heavily ahead, followed by three long-legged girls, stumbling off the beaten path into the snow and squealing, followed by some other large, thoroughbred men. Soon the bathhouse was filled with steam.
From inside she could hear the gasping of a heathen, muffled laughter and groans.
Finally, the doors of the dressing room swung open, and the whole cheerful company spilled out naked into the pure virgin snow. Mishkin's director, shaking his saggy belly, was like a wild boar breaking through the fluffy snow with his steamed pink body, dragging the company to the river, right into the wormwood where Mishkin's top stood.
Three beautiful girls found themselves on the ice, just opposite Mishka’s hiding place. It seemed as if you could stretch out your hand and take out each one.
From this proximity and the sight of naked girls’ bodies, Mishka, who lived involuntarily in severe abstinence, became dizzy, and his face glowed with the unbearable heat of shame and unknown forbidden passion.
As if drunk, he stood up and, staggering, wandered to his wretched shelter. And from behind, excitingly girlish laughter and joyful squeals teased and beckoned...
In the hut of the tar smokers, he again lit the stove, drank tea with lingonberry leaves and lay down on his bunk, sighing sadly over his dissolute, worthless life, which now, after the morning statement on the radio, had become completely devoid of any meaning.
Mishka was left without parents early. The mother drowned while rafting, the father became a drunkard. They say that the wrong coil was installed on the moonshine still. It was supposed to be stainless steel, but Bartholomew installed copper. That’s why the moonshine turned out to be poisonous.
No one in this life loved Mishka. After the craft, he walked with the girl and even kissed, and when he went into the army, his love immediately jumped out to marry a coven who had come from Transcarpathia and drove off with him forever.
And after the army there was work in the forest, and drinking on weekends. He was a prominent and kind guy, but there were no girls around, only guys remained in Vyselki, the girls all went to cities. You will inevitably get drunk here! It would be better for him to be born Sanya’s goat! I would sit on the stove and eat peeled potatoes. Look, it’s freezing in his office!
Mishka felt so unbearably sorry for himself that a burning tear boiled in his eyes and fell into the spruce branches.
...At night he left the hut, the same song thundered in the dacha and echoed a hundredfold throughout Badger Forest:
"Prostitute, prostitute, prostitute,
Night butterfly, but who is to blame here?
Centuries-old pines trembled under the blows of decibels and snow sparkling under the light of the moon fell from the tops. The moon shone like a spotlight. In the vast abyss of heaven, radiant stars shone, and the night was as bright as day.
The bear, like a magnet, was drawn again to the dacha, music and fun. And he went there under the pretext of rechecking the top. She could have been knocked down while diving into the ice hole, or even pulled out onto the ice.
The director's dacha sparkled with lights. shore, Mishka saw through the wide windows her fabulous feast, filled with all kinds of dishes. Someone was dancing, someone was already sleeping in a chair. Suddenly the doors of the dacha opened, spilling a flurry of music and electric radiance into the frosty purity of the night.
Mishka saw someone jump out onto the porch in a fiery halo, rush down into the darkness, the steps on the hill creaked, and then in the ghostly moonlight on the ice of the river he saw a girl, one of the three who had been here during the day. She ran up to a blackened hole, in which the icy streams of a waking river curled, and threw herself on her knees in front of it.
Mishka has never seen anything like this in his life. beautiful girls. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, her high chest was heaving heavily, and tears were streaming down her beautiful face.
The country doors opened again, and a man came out onto the porch:
Margo! - he shouted imperiously. - Do you hear? Come back! Apparently, he was calling to the girl who was now kneeling in front of the wormwood.
Malya! - he repeated insistently, - Malka! Get home. I'm tired of waiting.
The girl did not answer. Mishka heard only quiet sobs. The man stomped on the porch, swore and went back. The girl whispered something and made a movement towards the hole.
Mishka felt unbearably sorry for her. He jumped out of the bushes and in an instant found himself next to the girl.
Who are you? - she asked distantly. She smelled of expensive perfume, wine and foreign tobacco.
“Teddy bear,” he said worriedly.
Are you local?
I live here. “In the forest,” Mishka answered in the same wooden way. The girl lowered her head again.
And I'm Margot. Or Malya. Prostitute.
Is this a stripper or what?
Not really. Prostitute.
Mishka did not know the meaning of this word and decided that prostitute was the girl’s surname.
“Don’t stand with your knees on the ice,” Mishka warned. “Otherwise you’ll catch a cold.”
The girl suddenly began to cry, and her shoulders trembled slightly. Mishka, suppressing his embarrassment, took her by the elbows and placed her next to him.
Do you hear, Mishka,” she suddenly said and raised her full of grief beautiful eyes. - Take me away from here. Somewhere.
And Mishka suddenly felt that the old Mishka was no longer there, that he was now completely at the mercy of those sorrowful eyes. And that he is ready to do whatever she says.
“My feet are cold,” she said. “Warm my knees.” Mishka crouched down and wrapped his stiff arms around Mali’s elastic knees. Her legs were bare and cold. The bear bent over them and began to warm them with his breath.
Let’s go,” she said quickly. “Get me out of here quickly...
They climbed the path to the hill. Unexpectedly for himself, Mishka easily picked her up in his arms and carried her to his forest winter hut. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed herself tightly against Mishka’s chest, clad in a sweatshirt that smelled of smoke and pine, and fell silent.
When Mishka reached the hut, the girl was already deeply asleep.
He laid her carefully on the bunk covered with spruce branches and sat by the window, listening to the unknown feelings that had settled in his soul half an hour ago, but had already taken root as if he had lived with these feelings forever and would continue to live just as forever.
Malya breathed barely audibly. The night was as bright as day. The moon was shining like a spotlight outside the window.
