The real story of a guy about a relationship with a foreigner. The rest of the story will be written in the first person. The author wished to remain anonymous.
The real story of a guy about a relationship with a foreigner
It happened many years ago, but I remember everything that made me worry. What made her head spin.
Unexpected meeting
I studied at the Moscow Institute, and I myself lived in the suburbs. My university was in the center of the capital. It’s only 4 stops by metro. At the exit of the subway, I came face to face with a nice girl. I felt uncomfortable, I apologized, and in response I heard friendly words with a slight accent. I immediately thought – a girl from the Baltic states and was mistaken.
I took two steps back and looked around. Before me stood the sweetest creature – blond hair fell to her shoulders, amazing brown eyes looked at me from under the bangs. The stranger was wearing a light trouser suit. High heels emphasized the slimness of the figure. We stepped aside. The stranger asked how to get to Red Square. From us to the Kremlin was 10 minutes walk. I volunteered to see the girl off, waving my hand at the lecture. To lose such a miracle was criminal. We got to know each other along the way. Her name was Rositsa. She came from Bulgaria with her parents, who had some business in Russia. On this day, she decided to get acquainted with Moscow and she clearly lacked a guide. Even though she didn’t tell me.
I didn’t tell her anything about myself other than my name. In general, I do not like to impose myself and always tell about myself only when asked. Rositsa walked and looked around with admiration. She chirped like a bird without stopping. When we stepped onto the cobblestone pavement, the girl took my arm, otherwise she could fall. Her thin heels fell into the crevices between the cobblestones and she needed support.
We walked along Red Square, stood at the mausoleum. She told me everything she knew about Lenin, about the Kremlin. We stood for a long time in front of the Cathedral of the Intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos and felt her hand trembling. I will remember this moment forever.
After we went down to the river, she did not even try to take her hand out, we walked arm in arm. Sometimes I walked away from her frozen, but only to admire her figure from the side. She talked a lot about herself, about Bulgaria, about the house, but I understood only one thing – she was interested in me. But then why doesn’t Rositsa ask me about anything? It was a mystery… what if I was wrong?
Time flew by in an instant. It’s time to say goodbye. I accompanied the Bulgarian beauty to the subway and deliberately did not offer to see her home. I was interested in her reaction. Rositsa stood still and suddenly said:
– Will we meet tomorrow?
– Of course.
– When and where?
Let’s get here at 10.
It was even surprising to me that she did not ask if I was free and where I lived, if I was married and if I had time. But she turned around and thumped her heels on the steps.
I was on the train and could not understand what was happening to me. But the conclusion was obvious – fell in love. And that didn’t surprise me. I called the head of the group and said that I was sick. I was really sick with LOVE.
sweet hopes
The next day I was near the subway around 9.30. Rositsa fluttered out of the door almost immediately after my arrival and … kissed me on the lips. On the lips, not on the cheek. Fleeting, not for long, but with a sensual expression in the eyes. She was wearing a short skirt and high heels. I could not take my eyes off her legs, figure, face. The girl took my arm and asked:
— Where shall we go?
– Where do you want to go?
– Where do you say. And come on “you”!
Everything was like in a dream. We went to a cafe for a cup of coffee. At the stoic she took out her cigarettes and looked at me questioningly. Yesterday I did not see Rositsa smoking. I nodded, she puffed beautifully, blew smoke from her mouth with some special charm. I didn’t see anyone around anymore. Only her face, knees, neck. What they talked about, I don’t remember. But the girl turned out to be, as yesterday, talkative, which freed me from the obligation to entertain the lady with conversations.
Then we walked again, went up to Pushkinskaya Square. We stood for a long time at the monument to the poet, and she read Alexander Sergeevich’s poems in a half whisper. Strangely, Rositsa knew many of his poems very well and read them with the breath of a professional. I was not surprised – she does not hold sensuality.
We ate ice cream, she wiped her lips with a handkerchief and handed it to me. I hesitated, then she pulled my head down and licked my lips. I was not that surprised, but simply amazed at her perseverance and … simplicity. She laughed and stroked my head. I stood as if struck by lightning. A foreigner, beautiful, sexy, bold, simple, felt at ease with a young man she did not know. I could not understand – is it good or bad?
And she didn’t let me know. She simply took my arm and led me along the street. It was SHE, it was she who LEAD.
We again wandered for a long time, admiring the old Moscow, she read the ads and was surprised. Everything was new to her and everything was interesting. All conversations again revolved around the girl, her life, habits, interests. She talked about friends and acquaintances. I felt embarrassed when she talked about guys and she noticed it. Then the conversation turned to the future. Rositsa wanted to become a musicologist. She talked a lot about composers. She admired the Russian stage, listed the performers. What is interesting is that the girl even knew those singers that I only briefly heard about or did not know at all. It didn’t surprise her at all. She only casually remarked:
“I’ll tell you about them, I’ll let you listen to the recordings.
We said goodbye, like yesterday, late in the evening. But I again did not volunteer to see her off, trying to understand her reaction. Why I did this, I don’t know.
The next day was overcast and rainy. I left early, but we stopped on one platform, the driver announced that the train was half an hour late due to technical problems. And of course I couldn’t help it.
I got off the subway an hour later. It was raining outside, the mood was just as damp. He stopped at the door, not knowing whether to go out into the rain and if so, why. I did not stand still for a minute, as soft palms with the scent of lilac covered my head from behind. I turned and saw MY Rositsa with wet hair and an enthusiastic look. Her eyes laughed, sparkled, admired, admired the long-awaited meeting. She leaned over to me and put her arms around my shoulders. There were few people at that time, we stood unashamedly for about a minute.
It was raining and we had nowhere to go. Walking through the puddles is not very pleasant. Good thing there was a bench. We sat down, and she began to ask me about Moscow, about Russia, about where you can study as a musicologist. How expensive it is to rent an apartment or buy, what are our customs and procedures. She sat with her head on my shoulder and listened to what I answered her.
indelible mark
Some kind of dope emanated from Rositsa, along with fumes from a wet cloak. I listened to her voice and slowly went crazy. I realized that this girl came to Moscow for me. Fate sent her to me. I decided to start about myself. I was terribly interested in her reaction and I knew that I would lose her in the end. But I couldn’t lie. Not for her, not for myself. I said that after the institute the army was waiting for me, that I didn’t have an apartment and I didn’t live in Moscow at all, but 50 km away. from her. She raised a surprised look at me and asked in a half-whisper:
– So what? Or are you married?
– Not. But isn’t it enough that I told you?
– Silly!!!
She looked around and, not seeing anyone, began to kiss my face. Not lips, but face. Then she rested her head on my shoulder and took her hand in hers.
And I thought that a few days ago I didn’t run into her at the subway exit, but she met me there in a crowd of hurrying citizens. She just knew that I would be there at that hour and…waited to “bump by chance”.
🧐 Relations with a foreigner and emigration to France through service in a foreign legion. Real story
