My Irina Ch. 01

We'd made love early in the morning, gone downstairs for brunch, and then headed back to our room. To my surprise Irina wanted to make love again: she settled me on the bed and gave me a slow, loving blowjob that lasted a long time, then pulled me on top of her. We fucked in the missionary position--which surprised me, because Irina rarely felt comfortable that way.

But as we did it, lovingly, her eyes watched me intently, as if she were trying to memorize my face. And she smiled as I came, watching my face scrunch up with pleasure.

Afterwards, as we lay sleepily together and I dimly remembered the unpleasant fact that we needed to pack up and drive back to Madison, she sat up and said, quietly, "Tom, we need to talk."

I could tell this was important, so I gestured to her to continue. Her face was tight, contained--not frightened or angry, but very serious.

"When you asked me to marry you," she said, "it was to give our baby a family--a father and a mother. We both knew it wasn't for love, or that we'd chosen one another to be life partners.

"And you've been a wonderful husband to me--so kind, so supportive and understanding, so great during the pregnancy! But we lost our baby, and we're never going to have another, so--"

I may have been a bit slow but I suddenly realized where she was going; and I was thunderstruck. Was I the world's biggest moron?

"Wait, Irina, I--" But she shushed me with a sad smile and went on.

"The reason you married me is gone, Tom. I want you to be free to have the life you want, with the woman you love, when you meet her. It's time for us to talk about a divorce."

There was a long silence. I knew what I wanted--it was crystal-clear to me, in fact, but I wasn't sure how to go about saying it.

Carefully I asked, "is a divorce what YOU want, Irina, or is it something you feel you need to offer me?"

She looked away. "It's hard for me to know what I really want, Tom. I've had years to get used to the idea that no man would ever fall in love with me or want to marry me. I guess I still have the fantasy, but I know it's not going to happen.

"You've been my husband and my friend--and I'm so very glad we found one another again! But I know your idea of happiness isn't spending the rest of your life with someone who looks like this." She gestured at her face.

"Irina," I said slowly, making sure she was looking right at me. "I would never have dreamed we'd be in this position. Yes, I married you because you were carrying my child, not because I loved you.

"But the fact that you'd been my best friend made it an easy decision. I already knew what a great person you are, how good a friend you would always be, and what a great mother you would make.

"And you've left a couple of things out of the equation. First: scars or no scars, you are about the sexiest bombshell of a woman I have ever seen, let alone had the joy of making love with." She gave me a crooked half-smile, almost against her will, and I went on.

"And second--" I waited a moment, "I happen to love you."

She smiled again, this time almost dismissively, sympathetically. "You are a nice man, Tommy. And I know you care for me--we've been through a lot together.

"I know you love the sex too--so do I!

"But you don't love me, not the way a man wants to love the woman he spends his life with."

I sat back against the pillows, feeling stymied. There we were at the crux of the problem. I knew I loved Irina. I DID want to spend the rest of my life with her. But she didn't believe me, and I wondered if I could ever convince her.

We talked for another hour, without either of us making any progress with the other. She had in mind to stay in Madison--she liked her job okay, and she'd gotten used to the city. There was no family back in Greenfield any longer, and she didn't want to be in Sacramento where her aunt and uncle were.

But she wanted us to get a divorce, and she hoped I would move on with my life and find someone else. I couldn't make her see that I'd fallen in love with her, face or no face, and that I wanted to wake up next to her every morning.

We drove back to Madison, went back to work, got on with our lives. Nearly every day Irina brought up the divorce--calmly, never with any anger or resentment--and every day I tried and failed to persuade her that I wanted to be with her.

She printed up some pages from an Internet site about how easy it was to get an uncontested divorce in Wisconsin when there were no children--just a few months and a few hundred dollars, she said, and I could be free to start my new life.

"Maybe you won't get married right away. Maybe you'll enjoy being a hip single guy with a good job--maybe you'll spend a few years balling every cute young thing you meet!"

I laughed, and said, "but what good will that be to me, if I don't get to keep balling the one girl I really want to ball?"

Smiling, she replied, "you'll still have me around to ball for a few more months. That should be plenty!" And try as I might, nothing I said or did would change her mind.

Several days later I approached it a different way. I interrupted another monologue about no-hassle divorce to say, "But Irina, do you love me?"

She stopped, obviously taken aback. "It doesn't matter," she said.

"Of course it matters! It's about the only thing that DOES matter, since I love you.

"I want to know if you love me--if you would actually be happy to stay with me or whether you want to be single again to find some other man to love."

"Tommy," she said, "I'm hardly going to do that, unless they start having dances for people with bags over their heads!"

"You haven't answered my question. Do you love me?"

A long silence, while she gazed steadily out the window. Finally she said, "yes, Tom, I do. But it doesn't make a damn bit of difference."

****************

Weeks went by, and I didn't know how to break the impasse. How do you convince the woman you love that you love her? I did everything I knew how to do. I was an affectionate, kind, supportive husband, I sent her flowers to surprise her, I made love to her constantly (not exactly a sacrifice for me), and in every way tried to show her how I felt.

And Irina remained an affectionate partner and good friend; and steadfastly refused to believe me.

At the end of January 2001 I made a reservation at the best French restaurant in Madison, making sure to request a private table where we'd be largely invisible to the other patrons. And I wangled a salary advance out of my supervisor and promptly took it to a jewelry store. Swallowing hard, I spent an unconscionable amount on a diamond engagement ring eight times the size of the tiny one I'd bought Irina the summer before.

Then we got dressed up and went out to dinner; and we had some champagne and some good wine and some great food and a wonderful time. And as we sat over coffee, I leaned across the table and took both her hands.

"Listen, Irina," I said. "You did your research and found out how quickly we could get an uncontested divorce.

"Well, I did a little research too--and it turns out that a contested divorce takes a lot longer. I can hold onto you for months--years, even, unless you're willing to spend a ton of money neither of us can afford.

"So," I continued, smiling at her, "won't you just give up the whole idea? Let's save ourselves the time AND the money."

I moved around the table and kneeled down in front of her, enjoying the shocked look on her face. I pulled out the small box and opened it in front of her, so she could see the beautiful ring.

"Irina, would you do me the honor of staying my wife?"

There was a long, long silence. Irina gazed at the ring, then at my smiling, expectant face. I wasn't worried--I knew that no matter what she said, I wasn't going to give up.

Finally, something stirred in her eyes. She started to cry, and she said, "oh, Tommy!" and pulled me into her arms.

And as I held her and she cried on my shoulder she whispered, "yes--yes, I'll stay with you, Tommy!"

And then, when she'd wiped her eyes, we had the fun of taking off her old engagement ring and replacing it with the new one, and admiring it together, and even showing it off to the waiter when he came back with the check.

On the drive home we didn't say a word, but Irina held my hand tightly the entire way. When we got into the apartment she pushed me up against the door, kissed me hard, and said, "go use the bathroom quick, and then wait for me in bed."

That night Irina just about destroyed me. Not that we hadn't had passionate nights before, but she was unstoppable. After her turn in the bathroom she came out naked, for once leaving a bedside lamp on so I could see her body, and she ravished me.

She was aggressive and energetic and she wanted me over and over. We spent nearly two hours at it, fucking three times, and each time she pulled on me and bucked her hips at me and groaned and moaned and pushed her tongue halfway down my throat. It was like she'd just discovered sex for the first time and was scared there'd never be any more ever again after that night.

After the first time she almost ran to the bathroom to clean herself up; and then she came back and sat on my chest, smiling, and slid herself up to put her pussy over my mouth. She whispered, "do me, baby, please!"

I loved eating Irina out but she frequently wasn't that interested; so it was a huge turn-on for her to take the lead, and I went after her pussy and clit until she was humping and grinding herself on me so I could hardly breathe. As soon as she came and relaxed a little, I rolled her over and screwed her hard, while she groaned and squealed and pulled on my ass with both hands.

That was number two. The third time, after she woke up my tired cock with her lips, I was so beat that I just lay back and let her ride me, enjoying the sight of those gorgeous breasts bouncing and swaying in front of my eyes.

The next morning when I woke she was spooned behind me, gently kissing my ear and rubbing my cock, and we spent nearly an hour doing it again before I begged for mercy--and for breakfast!

In a way that Friday night was our real wedding night--the time when we first gave ourselves completely to one another, with love, knowing that we meant it. The true first night of our marriage.

It's a cliché to say that "everything changed" after that, but in a way it did. Or to be more accurate, everything that was good between us just got better. Irina became more and more comfortable with the idea that I actually loved her--I wasn't with her out of pity, or duty, or even inertia. I loved and desired her (which was certainly true) and loved having her around me.

So the friendship between us, which had always been strong, got stronger. And the energy in the romantic side of our relationship just kept increasing. We treated one another like lovers, in and out of bed.

All the romantic things that people do in the early stages of a love-affair--romantic walks, long intense make-out sessions, deep heartfelt talks about hopes and dreams for the future--we started do them now, nearly a year after we got married. The trust we had in each other grew deeper; and I have to say, the sex was fantastic.

Knowing how much I truly desired her opened Irina up to being much more confident in her own attractiveness. I've told you what a beautiful body she had, but she had always been too self-conscious of her face to appreciate her own sexiness. Now--at least alone with me--she would flaunt it and revel in it, tease me with lingerie or low-cut tops, be demanding sexually when she felt like it, whisper dirty things in my ears, and in every way enjoy how great our sexual connection could be.

I felt like the luckiest man on earth--and things just continued to get better. For a while.