The debt of seven kisses

The debt of seven kisses

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

This is a story of a boy, who had no chance, and a girl, who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. This is a story of ordinary lives torn apart and reassembled into something beautiful. This is a story of amazing success against all the odds. Be careful, if you fall in love, this may happen to you too. (Author’s note – you will not find open sex scenes in the first few chapters of the story. If you like erotica where people are described by their breast sizes and penis’ lengths and screw right away for no particular reason – I don’t think this story will be to your taste.)

Summary

This is a story of a boy, who had no chance, and a girl, who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. This is a story of ordinary lives torn apart and reassembled into something beautiful. This is a story of amazing success against all the odds.

Be careful, if you fall in love, this may happen to you too.

(Author’s note – you will not find open sex scenes in the first few chapters of the story. If you like erotica where people are described by their breast sizes and penis’ lengths and screw right away for no particular reason – I don’t think this story will be to your taste.)

Chapter2 (v.1)

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 11, 2013

Reads: 545

Comments: 5

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 11, 2013

A A A

A A A

 

Chapter II

 

That year the irises started to bloom a whole month earlier than usual. The pear, cherry and plum trees stood completely quiet in a light mist. The first rays of the rising sun barely touched their top branches. It would have been a perfect Saturday morning for stealing flowers, if it weren’t for a small grey dog with a cut tail, who was charging at me at full speed. Luckily, the dog did not bark or growl – he would have woken up the whole neighborhood. I tried to kick him, but he was faster than me. He bit my shin when I was climbing over the fence and just would not let go off of it. I kicked him once again and then once more and then he dropped to the ground still without a sound. That very instant he jumped back trying to bite me again. I have been bitten by quite a few dogs in my life, but this one was by far the weirdest.

 

That’s how I got over the other side of the fence with some fifty freshly cut irises, torn pants and an ugly bleeding wound on my left leg.

 

I think you can guess by now for whom I was stealing those flowers.

 

That day was an important day for Ingrida –she was competing in a figure skating tournament of the region. She told me that she was quitting figure skating, because she was already too old to be considered for serious sports career at the Union level. Nevertheless, she was hoping to win this tournament.

 

“You see”- she told me – “that gold medal would no longer be in the “youth” category, so it would look as a fine adult achievement on my resume. This would be a good point for a political career”.

 

I never approached Ingrida at school. I was sure she did not like to be seen in my company. I would just wait for her at the bus stop and then we would travel home together. Those thirty minutes in a crowded dirty bus stinking of burned diesel was the best part of my day. We would chat all the way. Or, actually, it is better to say that she did all the talking and I did all the listening.

 

Her interests were broad and varied, starting with theater, dance and skating and finishing with benefits of mass vaccination, interrogation techniques and gossip about friends of her circle.

 

Ingrida’s best friend was Kristina, whose father was also somebody important in the communist party. I think they were friends because their fathers were allies in their party career, and their mothers were pregnant together and gave birth to their daughters in the same hospital just one day apart. They had neighboring dachas on the Baltic see where they would spend their summers. They both would receive invitations for New Year’s celebration in Kremlin in Moscow. Both of them went to the same school and both were also on the komsomol committee of that school. They were friends by default rather than by liking.

 

Can you guess who was Ingrida’s main rival in the figure skating competition?

 

Right. Her best friend Kristina.

 

It took me more than hour to get home. With every step I heard blood gurgling in my left shoe. My mother bandaged the wound silently, no questions asked. She just sighed when she saw how badly were torn my pants.

 

I kissed her cheek and I ran off, because I was already late for the competition.

 

The tournament took four hours and it was quite boring, because I did not understand the judging. Some of the dancers skated without a fault and got bad marks, some fell a few times and got good marks. In my view it was just a lot of silly jumping and turning.

 

But when Ingrida’s turn came – it was a whole different experience. My heart seemed to jump up together with her and sink down whenever she landed on the ice. She wore white skirt with a lot of silver speckles on it. Her figure was slender and gracefully flexible. Her hair burned like a fire on that white ice arena. I was angry that the audience did not applaud her laud enough. And when she fell down after one unsuccessful jump, it felt like five rabies dogs bit me out of nowhere.

 

She was one of the last performers. The judges announced their marks and the audience started to boo and whistle. I did not understand what was going on, but I had no one to ask for an explanation.

 

Then the award ceremony came and the presiding judge started to announce the winners.

 

“The winner of the third place and the bronze medal: Julia Kamarova!”

 

The audience applauded her loudly with many shouts – “Bravo! Well done!” A lot of people brought her flowers and kissed her on a cheek. She seemed to be genuinely happy.

 

“The winner of the second place and silver medal: Ingrida Arbaite!”

 

There were some lukewarm applauds, but there were also some loud shouts of disapproval and whistling.

 

The judge did not make a pause and immediately announced the champion:

 

“The winner of the first place, gold medal and the regional championship: Kristina Denskute!”

 

The audience clapped again, more loudly than for Ingrida, but there were still some whistles.

 

For some reason there was a dense atmosphere of malaise in the audience. As if some rules were broken, some injustice was done.

 

Ingrida’s best friend Kristina rose on the podium and waved her bouquet triumphantly. She bent down to receive the gold medal. People started coming to her with flowers and congratulations.

 

Somehow it seemed that Ingrida was forgotten in that ceremony, snubbed by the judges and the audience as if she was not important and not deserving the medal she was given. For a moment I had to look back to her just to check if she received any medal at all. And there she was - biting her lip and silently crying on the podium with silver medal on her chest and not a single flower in her hands.

 

People went on to congratulate the champion, bringing her bouquets of flowers and kissing her cheeks. At that moment I remembered that I also have some flowers to give.  I hurriedly ran down to the ice arena. The ceremony was ending; I was the last to come to congratulate the winners.

 

As I approached the podium I saw the shining smile of Kristina, so happy that she won, and even worse, so happy that she won over my Ingrida. I hated her from the bottom of my heart.

 

I came straight to the champion - to Kristina -and extended her the flowers. She reached for them. At the very last moment I stepped back and she almost fell off the podium.

 

The audience burst into laughter.

 

I turned and gave those flowers to Ingrida.

 

She took them and raised her head high, back with a returned dignity.

 

For a moment there was icy silence in the ice arena.

 

Then somebody applauded.

 

The others joined in.

 

Nobody whistled his time.

 

Ingrida raised the armful of blue and yellow irises and waived.

 

She lost the competition, but she was not defeated. She did not get a gold medal, but in the end, she was the girl on the podium with the most flowers in her hands.

 

I went back to my seat and only then realized – silly me! – I forgot the most important!

 

Had I come closer she would have given me a kiss! It is a kiss on a cheek, but it is still a kiss. Damn!

 

“Damn! Damn! Damn!” – I cursed myself, but it was too late.

 

 

The following Monday I waited for Ingrida at the bus stop as usual. She sat down next to me.

 

“I think the judges were cheating on Saturday. You should have been the champion” – I said in an expert tone.

 

She looked at me skeptically. - “Monkey, are you blind or are you stupid?”

 

I shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry, I don’t understand. What was wrong?”

 

“What was wrong? I screwed up – that was what was wrong. I made like fifteen mistakes. The judges cheated, all right. In my favor. And in Kristina’s favor too. Julia, who got the bronze, should have got the gold; she was by far the best. My friend Kristina was probably the second. And I should not have been on the podium at all. My father pulled some strings. And Kristina’s father too, I am pretty sure. You see, it is important for our careers. We are not important; it is our careers that are important. Fuck them.”

 

I sat silent.

 

The meaning of her words came to me, slowly. She was in the world with different rules and different games that were so much above me that I did not even suspect of their existence.

 

“Ingrida, tell me, why do you talk to me here on the bus? I know you are completely out of my league.”

 

“Why? Fuck them, that’s why. They would all say – why do you talk to Monkey, he if from the bottom of the gutter, why don’t you talk with people of your own level? You should rub shoulders with the right people, you should think of your career. Fuck them. I have the right to do something for myself and not for my career. And talking to you is actually fun. You don’t lie. Thanks for the flowers, by the way. They were lovely”.  


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