A beautiful German day was dawning. The sun was already reddening over the horizon, just as it had on the fateful day the Berlin Peace Treaty was signed fifty years earlier. Under the terms of the Treaty, Germany, Russia, England, and the United States remained the major powers, obligated not to interfere in the internal affairs of other powers and to maintain neutrality in armed conflicts that did not concern them.
The United States already faced energy and environmental problems due to an accident during the war. One of the nuclear bombs at the time, located at a research institute, unexpectedly decimated half of Utah and spread radioactive contamination to several neighboring states. Public opinion at the time so hated war and nuclear physics that, despite successes in the Pacific, a feeble armistice with Japan was forced to be signed, a withdrawal from Europe, a ban on the use of nuclear energy, and early elections were called. Since then, the United States has relied primarily on thermal power plants, which has led to increased air pollution and the greenhouse effect.
England, on the other hand, though severely damaged, had regained its economic position thanks to German loans and trade with that country, so it had neither reason nor interest in interfering in the politics of other countries, especially Germany. It was solely protecting its own business, as always with the rest.
Russia, on the other hand, after its defeat by the German nation, had no intention of interfering in German affairs. Especially since, after the fiasco of the American nuclear tests, on which Mother Russia had pinned its hopes, only Germany had operational nuclear weapons.
So, although on paper there were four powers, in reality only one mattered. However, it did not interfere in international politics as much as it could. It merely maintained the global economy in a favorable balance.
Colonel von Gross, as always, awoke with the sun. Although he was already retired, his military habits remained. He liked to listen to the silence in the morning, and then, after his morning toilette, watch the lower races go to work, for which they earned the right to live, food, and shelter. After all, good and cheap labor wasn't wasted. He himself had Slavs in his service, and Slavic women gave him much pleasure. This was because they were usually much prettier than the average Aryan woman, perfect for a favorite. The colonel himself had several after his wife, a boring, vapid, and mediocre wife, left him. What attracted him most about Slavs was their arrogance, pride, and sometimes downright ferocity. Even some Aryans lacked such strength of spirit. He loved to look into their eyes, piercing their camouflage and searching for those precious and intriguing traits. Sometimes he was even afraid of them—perhaps this one had a hidden dagger in her hand? He had heard of such cases, too.
His daughter, however, didn't share his opinion; she simply called them "doormats." She disliked her father's hobby, but she herself had a weakness for the Slavs, specifically those from the Vistula River. She loved their rebelliousness and the madness in their eyes. When she was a few years younger, she had been afraid of them. Their history fascinated her, especially that of the last two hundred years. So many uprisings, rebellions, and battles for a country they had won after 123 years for only 21. They were not destined to live in freedom, and if they couldn't live free, let them live in slavery.
* * *
In a dark room, under a small window opposite the entrance door, stood a metal bed, similar to a hospital bed. Beside it stood a small cabinet for toiletries. Even these worthless Slavs had to be clean. Nobody would endure their stench, stare at their unshaven faces, and allow them to spread disease. The whitewashed walls were bare except for a mirror and a sink. There were two toilets, one for men and one for women, located in the hallway.
A young man, who had only recently stopped being a boy, sat leaning against the wall on a gray mattress. His legs were drawn up, his arms wrapped around them, and he stared at a paint chip on the wall, thinking. He was thinking about what he was about to undertake. He knew what he was about to do was risky, he knew none of his friends would like it, he knew that once he did it, everything would be different. But above all, he believed it would be for the best, that he would gain more from it than he would lose.
* * *
Little Lady Von Gross's nineteenth birthday was approaching. The age at which she could choose her personal servant. That is, any person of a lower race who would obey her every command—literally, every command. That was why there was a nervous commotion in the Slavic household. Everyone knew young Sandra would choose a Vistula native. Her family had a soft spot for them; they lived in the former Vistula lands, and almost all their servants came from there. They also knew he would be over twenty years old and would be very busy with her.
The announcement said he would be with his father at 6:00 PM, so fifteen minutes earlier the building caretaker would check attendance and lock all entrances except the main one, which he would guard. When the time arrived, everything happened as planned. Right on time, a tall, balding, gray-haired elderly man with a sharp, piercing gaze entered the dining hall in the Slavic building. Despite his wrinkles and slight paunch, he held himself remarkably straight. He looked as if he could give a beating to any younger man. His daughter, of medium height, slender, athletic, and with hair that reached down to her shoulder blades, so light it was closer to white than the typical blond, entered equally proudly. Her eyes were so blue that the sky blue was almost like her pupils, and her gaze gave the impression of piercing her soul, heart, and brain with hundreds of needles. Her complexion was milky, and her face, though sharp, even aggressive, was beautiful. It was no wonder she had a place as runner-up in the German Reich.
If it weren't for her nasty temper, people would have killed to be her servant. She could pull off any trick; she received several beatings, and only half of those punished survived. But she didn't care at all. As the apple of her father's eye, she could do anything.
All the Slavs lined up in several rows, with a passage between them left for the state. Sandra, however, dismissed everyone except the Vistula people without a second thought. Two rows of a dozen or so people remained, facing each other. She walked back and forth between them, looking them in the face as if she wanted to rip out each heart. Despite her upright and proud posture, most of them didn't try to meet her gaze. Only one in ten dared to glance at her face, but on the next pass, only one of them fixed her gaze. When she noticed this, he didn't turn around, but with innate pride, strength, and contempt, stared straight into her eyes. Sandra glared at him, but his eyelids didn't even quiver, and he continued to stare straight into hers. Although the room had been silent, it was now so quiet you could hear a mosquito buzzing in the other room of the dining hall.
At the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered Slavic man of about twenty with narrow ebony eyes and short, dark hair, von Grossówna lost her confidence for a moment. He looked as if he could kill everyone in the room and go to sleep without nightmares or even remorse. After a moment, however, Sandra pushed aside the irrational thoughts and, already confident, asked,
"What's your name, how old are you, and where do you work?"
"Jacek, I'm 22 years old and I work as a digger in the summer and in the boiler room in the winter." She looked at his powerful hands and imagined him shoveling on a hot day. Stripped to the waist, sweating, drinking water from a bucket with a ladle. His stern face reminded her a bit of some barbarian from Roman times. She liked that image; she wanted someone like that.
"Now you'll have an easier job. Tomorrow morning, report to our butler and he'll explain your new job. And at twelve o'clock I want you with me." Her father smiled slightly.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, smiling barely perceptibly. This surprised everyone, including Sandra, who loved to tear down these self-assured Slavs. She approached to within a few centimeters of his chest and asked him a simple question.
"What's so funny?"
"I'm happy with my new job; the old one was boring.
" "Don't you like boredom?" That's good, because so am I. Let's hope we both won't be bored together.
"It's impossible to be bored with you, is it?" he said as she was turning to leave. However, hearing him, she turned back to face him and replied.
"There's never been anyone who complained about being bored in my company." She smiled half-sweetly, half-venomously, and ran her hand across his cheek, finally changing the touch of her fingertips to the scratching of her long, white-painted nails. "See you tomorrow, my love."
* * *
"Jacek, you idiot, why did you provoke her? If it weren't for you, she probably would have chosen someone else, or gone to another house and found someone suitable there. Now you'll either be in bad shape or worse." A slim, dark-haired, tall boy named Paweł, a close friend of Jacek's, was saying, tapping his forehead with his index finger. They were conversing in Polish, like any self-respecting Nadwiślański.
"I'll pretend to be confident, a little arrogant, but stupid. Then she'll start to tame me, which will be too easy for her, and she'll quickly get bored with me and leave me alone.
" "You don't have to pretend, so you'll surely succeed.
" "Funny as hell, I'm dying of laughter. The most important thing is that this way I'll be able to see Anka more often," Jacek replied, not listening to his friend's great wisdom.
"Unless you don't break up first because of young Von Grossówna. Remember, she's capable of a lot, she has a vivid imagination, and she's not stupid.
" "That won't happen because she doesn't even know she has someone to separate me from. And Anka won't leave me on her own, even if the situation requires her to tame her jealousy.
" "Don't you think the leather isn't worth the expense? It's not worth paying with your humiliation and nerves, or for a little more time with her."
"If you had a woman you loved and could only see her once a week, when her employer gave her the afternoon off or when you happened to meet on the street, you'd know it was worth it." Jacek said, irritated by Paweł's shallow thinking and his exaggeration of the problem.
"You'll definitely get those lashes, and if not, it means they'll hang you right away, and that's how you'll screw up the lives of many people, especially Ania." Paweł judged, already resigned. "Go to hell.
" "Just let him try and I'll bring him back on a leash." A short, petite, nineteen-year-old girl spoke in the doorway. She had long brown hair and a fair, freckled complexion.
Paweł stood up, giving way to the girl, sighing and saying,
"Talk some sense to this idiot, he won't listen to me. I'm going home now. See you Ania, for now, Jacek." They shook hands and looked into each other's eyes like true Slavs, and Paul left, heading for another room, the same Slavic house.
"He's quite right. I've been a maid at the Von Grosses' for a year now, and I know what that nasty little bitch is capable of.
" "It doesn't matter what she can do, the important thing is that she'll bring me closer to you," he insisted.
"We'll see. Personally, I highly doubt it. Maybe we'll see each other more often, but we'll be less likely to be together the way we want to be." She said quietly, concern in her voice, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Trust me, even if he really does come up with something to scare me, intimidate me, or even give me a bundle of very bad memories, if I can be with you relatively freely, even for an hour a day, I'll gladly pay the price. Trust me, it won't be that bad, I'll deal with her somehow.
" "I trust you, but I know we'll definitely have more than one trial to overcome." They clasped their hands together, Jacek rested his forehead against hers and whispered,
"Let's give ourselves a chance; maybe we can have more of each other for a reasonable price?"
Anna didn't say a word, just took a small step away from Jacek and kissed him tenderly on the lips. When they finished, Jacek walked to the door to his room, locked it, and, taking off his shirt, revealed his bare, muscular torso.
"What do you want to do?" He didn't answer, but continued to undress, they kissed.
* * *
"You've been briefed on your responsibilities and rights. Although your rights—important to you—have always amused me. You have a room right next to my apartment, but I doubt you'll use it often," she said, scratching his chin with a long fingernail, though Jack's expression remained neutral.
"I'll use it as much as you allow," he replied submissively.
"Any average German citizen would be happy with that attitude, but I'm not an average citizen. Where's your haughty warrior look?
" "Maybe I'm not, or maybe I wasn't aware of what I was doing then?"
"I don't tolerate addictions to anything, and I hate drugs in general. If I see you under the influence of anything, I'll have you flogged." She pulled away from him with an almost furious butcher's expression.
"How could I get them? Even if I wanted to, living among the Slavs, the only thing you could get was lousy moonshine." He lied, because that moonshine was better than many brand-name spirits and was quite easily available. Besides the compulsory knowledge of their language, it was another tradition left over from their Vistula past.
"So you think you only made a one-time misleading impression on me and now you can live in peace?
" "You won't kill me, ma'am, because you'll lose your free servant, your father won't buy a new one, and he won't be able to replace him either." You're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you, but without the danger. Check." He spoke coldly.
"You only think you've got me checked." She spoke calmly and quietly, almost whispering as she approached him so close that her breasts were an inch from Jacek's chest. She tilted her head up and looked him straight in the eye. "You don't know yet what I'm capable of when I want to do something very bad to someone." Jacek didn't move, he seemed completely unaffected. But inwardly, he was frightened, suddenly cold, and he cursed himself for his excessively long tongue.
But at that moment, someone knocked on Jacek's door, which then opened, and Anka appeared in a maid's uniform.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Is it okay if you'll have dinner with him today?
" "Tell my father I'd love to," she said, but before Ania left, Sandra stopped her. "Wait, I'll tell him myself. And you, my dear, wait here for me. We haven't finished talking yet," she said, then left.
"So what? What do you think of her now?" Ania asked in a completely informal tone.
"So far, it's only confirmed that she's really mean. But to start managing her, I have to get to know her better, but I don't know if I can do that before she comes up with something.
" "Paweł and I told you she's not to be trifled with. She's a difficult case of someone who loves to inflict pain.
" "I realized that a moment ago. You came in at the right time, thanks. Now go back, or they'll start suspecting something, and we don't want that, do we?" Ania shook her head, kissed her male half tenderly, smiled, and left.
Returning from her father's apartment, Sandra noticed that the maid had left Jacek's room only after a long moment, which was occupied by a brief exchange with her father.
"They've been together far too long to just stand there in silence," she thought, then entered Jacek's room, approached him, and asked,
"You like that sad little maid, don't you?" At these words, Jacek's eyelids flickered slightly, his eyes lit up with an almost lively fire and became several shades lighter, with delicate graphite veins visible. It was the first time Sandra had encountered anything like this. She hadn't even known it was possible. She was frightened, even frightened, by the insane anger radiating from those eyes. She no longer wanted to use anyone to intimidate her new servant. If he flew into such anger at the mere mention of another Slav, what could he do if she dared to do anything to anyone? She decided to be careful and not tread on untested ice. First, she would get to know him, and then, from a safe place, inflict pain.
But it wasn't his gaze that was the worst now, it was the fact that he saw her fear. He smiled mockingly, then asked her a malicious question:
"Are you alright, madam?" The lady paled. She hated losing control of her servants. She hated it when malice hid beneath her servility; it always made her quickly return to her normal self-confidence. She unexpectedly grabbed his testicles hard enough that he doubled over in pain, seeing stars.
"Don't toy with me, or I could order you out of business by arranging sexual abstinence for the rest of your life. No more screwing sexy Slavic women.
" "And what good will the lady have of me then?" he replied, almost aggressively in pain. "
I'll torture you slowly, break your temper until you're as obedient as a puppy. I have a gay friend; I'll make a deal with him, he'll use it on you while I watch." You certainly won't like this; you Slavs have always been such great heterosexuals. It's so demeaning. And I really enjoy teaching you that nothing human should be alien to you." Jacek began to look even angrier than before. Sandra, seeing that she had only infuriated him, preferred to leave the threatened area. She hid her fear from Jacek under a veil of arrogance and emerged, seemingly calm.
For the first time in several years, she felt fear not only in her head but also in her heart. Not the kind that told her to be cautious, but the kind that disrupted her train of thought. There was something about this Slav that made him dangerous, and it wasn't his anger or composure, but something more. He wasn't just an arrogant and self-assured muscleman, but had an incredibly cool and sharp gaze that made anyone standing before him feel completely defenseless. It was like wanting to kill someone, approaching them with a hidden knife, almost knowing they could see it. So many irrational doubts and fears that weaken us. To her, he was like a bomb with a hundred-year-old fuse. There was no telling what it would take to set him off.
Jacek was left alone in his room. He sat on his bed, hung his head, and cursed. He tried to control the pain his new Mistress had inflicted on him. His rage subsided immediately, like every Nadwiślański in these difficult times. If it weren't for this very useful skill, heads would often roll for murder. He wasn't afraid, though perhaps he should have been? However, he knew he'd taken too much liberties, and that was precisely what was causing Sandra's aggression. So maybe it didn't have to end this way. The only thing that truly frightened him was Von Grossówna's ingenuity. He hadn't expected her to be so meticulous, perceptive, and versatile in her eagerness to spoil his blood. He was worried about Anka; he didn't want his Lady to have even the slightest suspicion of the two of them. He didn't want to bring any trouble on her.
A moment later, Ania entered the room.
"What, you fool? You still think you'll control her?
" "I miscalculated a bit, but that doesn't mean I was wrong. I'll appease her somehow.
" "And did you include me in your plans? Remember, I'm not a brick, and I have feelings. I'm jealous, for example." When I look at you, I want to stab her and string you up and take you home." She said with a twinkle in her eye.
"So how am I supposed to appease her? You know yourself that I'm most addictive in bed." He smiled slightly, and she nudged him in the ribs. "Well, what? You know yourself that she'll definitely want to take advantage of me, and I won't be able to screw it up because that's the end of good Mrs. Sandra!
" "As if she were ever good," Ania replied ironically. "But I understand, you have to please her so she doesn't try to use the whip on you, and that in turn will increase her interest in you. SUCK!" she said, embittered and with poorly concealed rage at their helplessness.
"If you ever doubt the purpose of our relationship, you'll be sick with jealousy because you'll see or hear something, remember my words: I love only you, I am only with you, body and soul, I live only for you." – He whispered to her, hugging her tightly. – Remember this forever, just as I am forever here for you.
* * *
"So, my love? What do you have to tell me this time?" said little Von Grossówna when they met the next morning in Jacek's room. "Tell me something interesting so I have something to punish you for."
"Today I finished your lessons and I've learned a lot, especially about surviving in unfavorable conditions." He smiled happily.
"Smart boy," she said, amused, and after a moment added. "Bend over, my lover." He did as she was told, and she placed her hand on the back of his neck, pulled him much closer, and threw her lips against his. "Today you're mine, and I hope you're good at this, because I don't like disappointments." She spoke after a long moment had passed for that kiss.
"Me too," Jacek replied, and before Sandra could react to this obvious impertinence, he grabbed her almost as if he wanted to rape her. He almost overpowered her and, rolling up the skirt she was wearing, laid her unceremoniously on the bed.
* * *
"You're a stud, Slavic lover," she said, standing up, adjusting her panties, tugging and smoothing her skirt, and searching for her bra and blouse. Jacek, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulled his shirt over his scratched back.
"Slovinian blood isn't water, it can sometimes catch fire." Sandra laughed.
"You and your boasting. But you still deserve a little reward, what would you like?"
"I'd like a smoke," he said, watching her smooth the folds of her blouse over her deeply filled neckline. Little Von Grossówna noticed this, approached him, and sat on his lap, facing his face, so that her breasts were level with his chin, six inches from his eyes.
"I can assign you a quota, but I don't want to smell cigarette smoke in the house." You'll smoke on my terrace and nowhere else." Jacek nodded, barely understanding the message, focusing more on the view and the quiet, rough, sexy tone of her voice. However, he didn't get to enjoy it for long. Sandra stood up and, before leaving, slapped him across the face with her open palm.
"And that's for your impudence. You dare to demand anything of me again, and I'll teach you the ropes."
She left, leaving Jacek with a red cheek and a wide, amused smile on his face, which—luckily for him—she never saw again.
* * *
"Jacek, can't she live without you? If it weren't for her school, she'd just be in your room with you.
" "She clearly likes it. You know I can't refuse her.
" "You have less and less time for me. I rarely see you in the servants' quarters, or even in your room. There's no time to even talk, and falling in love is out of the question."
"It's only been a few weeks, she can still pull a stunt on me, but it's getting better. If she decides I'm irreplaceable, I have her in my hands. But for her to say that, I have to be irreplaceable.
" "Fine, I'll survive somehow, but try to find a moment for me, or I'll go crazy.
" "I'll come to you some night. Wait for me.
" "I'll wait." As they left, they kissed as hard as they could, until their lips turned red. Then Ania went downstairs to the kitchen, and Jacek, taking advantage of Sandra's remaining school hours, got dressed and went out to the garden for a walk.
He was there quite often. Sometimes with Ania, but mostly alone, when Sandra was studying and Ania wasn't at the property or couldn't get away for a moment. He had already chosen a favorite spot there. It was a shady, rather dense, but small stand of trees on the side of the garden. There were benches around it, but Jacek, when he was alone, never used them. He sat among the trees so as not to be seen, lighting a cigarette and contemplating, or simply observing what was happening around him.
Sometimes he would see a limousine pull up to the main entrance and the silent and dejected little Von Grossówna step out. He then had to return home through the back door, but he had plenty of time for that, as the girl always exchanged a few words with her father first. However, whenever he saw her between the house and the limousine, she always seemed to him like a "hermit in the big city." He wasn't interested in anything unrelated to him and the matters important to him, but he had never noticed his Lady talking on the phone for long periods of time or even going out in the evenings. Besides, he had never seen her smile with genuine joy, untinged by malice or, at least, self-aggrandizement. After all, everyone smiles sometimes, out of the need of their hearts.
Jacek sat there for a long time, thinking more about Ania than anything else. Because of this, he didn't notice Sandra's earlier return; he sat there among the trees, completely unconcerned.
* * *
Little Von Grossówna entered her room, set aside her bag of teaching aids, and sat in the armchair by the window. She picked up a ceramic figurine of a beautiful bay horse and, touching it tenderly, remembered the day her father had given it to her. It was a beautiful day, one of the few days she felt a father's attention and love.
"Jacek!" she called out to his room, but received no answer. She
rose from the armchair and went to him, but when she saw the empty room, she felt a cold pang in her chest. She felt uncertainty and fear, as if before the announcement of the results of an important exam. Only this fear wasn't about any exam, but about the possibility of losing something important. She hurried to the servants' quarters and, from the threshold, asked if anyone had seen Jacek.
However, no one knew or admitted to knowing where he might be. Only after a dozen or so minutes, increasingly furious and frightened, did she learn from the security guard that Jacek had been in the garden recently. She went there and this time found him quite quickly. She approached the servant leaning against a thick tree trunk, sheltered by the shadows.
"Why aren't you in your room?" she hissed venomously.
"We have such beautiful weather, you were out, and I was bored myself. If I had known you'd be back earlier, I would have waited for you in my room," he replied calmly, narrowing his eyes at Sandra.
"Let's go.
" "Why shouldn't we take advantage of such a beautiful day? Sit down." He pulled his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it. He placed it in front of him and gestured to Sandra, himself still in a tight men's tank top. Still furious, but secretly happy to have found him, she accepted his offer after a moment's consideration.
"I don't know why I'm doing this, but okay, I'll go for it this time." Jacek learned that she wasn't so dangerous anymore and that he could sometimes engage in a gentle argument with her.
She sat on his shirt, slightly in front of him, slightly to his right, so that by stretching his legs out to the left, he left plenty of room for her. She leaned back with her arms and tucked her legs under her. Jacek rose from his semi-reclining position and, as if nothing had happened, embraced her in his arms, wanting her to lean on him and relax. At first, she resisted, but after a moment, she gave in, and he, leaning against the tree, provided support for her. After a while, she no longer had any inhibitions. She snuggled into her servant, and he, holding his Mistress's hands, embraced her as tenderly as a slave who didn't hate his Mistress could. A few moments later, Sandra fell asleep, and Jacek saw a peaceful expression on her face for the first time
in years. She was having pleasant dreams.
* * *
She stood on the shore of a vast lake, barely visible from the other side. It was a warm summer day, the sun was warm, its rays reflecting off the water, dazzling her eyes. Beside her stood her father, holding her hand. In this dream, Sandra was perhaps six years old, and her father was a little over forty, and he was in the process of divorcing Sandra's mother. But that didn't matter now.
They both sat on a small beach by the lake's edge and watched the gently rippling water. Sometimes they got up and walked along the shore, wading through the water that reached Sandra's calves. All the while, they talked, teased each other, and played, building various strange structures in the sand. They sat there for hours, watching the different phases of the day unfold over the water, until the sun set.
Just then, they saw something that couldn't possibly exist. A pitch-black stallion ran across the lake, silhouetted against the sun. His mane, almost as long as he was, fanned as he galloped, like flames fanned by the wind. When he was perfectly centered on the half-hidden sun, he tensed and whinnied loudly, then vanished, running toward the sun.
Sandra and her father watched the setting sun for a while longer, then, hand in hand, returned home with their supernatural and beautiful secret.
* * *
"What am I doing here?" It escaped her lips. She had fallen asleep outside, leaning against Jacek, and now she lay in her bed, covered with a white silk blanket, just as she had, only without her shoes. She moved to the right side of the bed and saw the servant slumped against the wall, dozing. In a burst of glee, she leaned into his ear and screamed.
"Jacek!" Shocked and frightened, he nearly tripped over his own shadow, but after colliding with the wall, he regained his composure, opened his eyes, and looked at the laughing Sandra. Her sincere, joyful smile was the complete opposite of her previous venomous and ironic smirks.
"You Slavic wimp." Jacek, once he had mentally recovered, accompanied by his Mistress's laughter, rested his chin on the edge of the bed and gazed at his beaming Mistress. Just as she gazed at him. At least until she leaned toward him and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
"What interesting thing do you have to tell me this time?" she asked him in a calm tone, not suggesting boastfulness, but also not presaging anything dangerous. Jacek climbed onto the bed, removed his undershirt, and, naked from the waist up, placed his hands on either side of Sandra, who was lying on her back.
"Nothing," the slave replied, leaning down to that Aryan face framed by a carpet of blond hair, to occupy her lips, stretched in half a smile.
This time, he took his time, slowly removing the silk robe, caressing her body wherever his hands and mouth could reach, while she removed his pants. He didn't allow her to do more; first, he slipped off her panties, leaving her dressed in a one-piece, flowing, knee-length, low-cut dress. He would have removed her bra too, had she had one. Again, he allowed himself much, even a great deal, and only when the slightest touch made her close her eyes and tense slightly with arousal, did he remove her dress. And she removed his boxers.
* * *
... Jacek lay down next to Sandra, panting loudly for a moment. When his breathing calmed down, he moved closer to the blonde, who was now lying on her side, her back to him, and lay down right behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and stroking her golden tanned belly with his hand.
"Don't stop," she said quietly, moving closer to him. But he was surprised, losing his temper.
"I know I don't have Slavic looks, and you hate me too much to consciously give me even a semblance of love," she said sadly. Instead of responding, Jacek shook off his surprise and returned to what he had been doing. Sandra, on the other hand, relaxed at this turn of events. "Start calling me by my name when we're alone, okay?"
"I can't, I'm just a slave," he replied calmly, and she turned to face him, covered with a silk blanket barely above her breasts. There was none of her aggression or malice in her face. There was only sadness, regret, and hope.
"I know who you are and who I am, I know that we are divided by the whole world, and by ourselves, by who we are, and what we are. But we can be human to each other—despite everything.
" "Do you want to reveal your status and origins?" I don't want to, though I'll still brag about the oppressor race. Madam, don't treat me as an equal either, because that means falling from your pedestal among the Slavs, who won't accept you. For you, it's social death and disgrace, but for me, only minor troubles.
She first lightly patted him on the cheek as if he were someone she had complete control over, then fiercely hugged him and whispered,
"First, you make me feel like Adam approaching his hand to the Creator's in Michelangelo's fresco, and now you abandon me like a concubine who has worn you down? I won't allow it!" Jacek smiled, but it wasn't mocking or ironic. It was a genuine smile of joy and satisfaction.
"You're unbearable," he said, embracing her.
24/09/2005 R
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