tagNovels and NovellasTaking the Risk: Misha's Story Ch. 08

Taking the Risk: Misha's Story Ch. 08

byshandal©

For those that wanted to know more about Misha before he met Froo, here is his story and how he came to be in England which is where he met her and fell in love,, and his time with Suzanne the woman in his past.

His passion for Suzanne becomes an obsession, as she plunges down into a self destructive whirlpool, so for those that believe that life's many experiences make up a rich and interesting tapestry....here is Misha's story.

To read about Misha and Froo please read the companion story Taking the Risk Chapter's 1-21 under Novels and Novella's.


*

The BBQ was in full swing; people were playing a competitive if slightly crazy backyard game of softball, with two teams made up of men on one side against women on the other, and laughter and loud comments erupting amongst the players. Misha was running, the voices of his cousins cheering him on, as Suzanne stood on the outside of a group of chattering woman who were married to various family members, as young toddlers and children joined in the general melee around the large backyard of one of his Uncles homes.

She couldn't remember who was who, they all looked alike. Cousins and fathers, tall with dark black hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and smiles they all merged into one, making Suzanne feel giddy with the amount of family that Misha seemed to have. The women were all friendly, but she still felt intimidated, scared and out of her league. All her old insecurity came flooding back and looking over to the big plastic bin with the beers laying in piles of ice she started to walk towards it, only to feel Misha's arms around her shoulders, and his kiss at the nape of her neck which was exposed by her hair up in a ponytail. He gently led her away from the large drink filled tub.

"Hi. Having fun?"

Looking up at him she told him with slightly wild eyes, "You're family is very loud and boisterous aren't they?"

Misha looked around the large yard, his Uncle and Aunt fussing over the BBQ, cousins running and laughing and people sitting talking everywhere. "Sweetheart, you want us to go inside for while, get a little space?"

Gratefully she nodded her head, "Please."

Walking her into the house and out of the bright sunlight, he led her down to the den, pulling her onto his lap, his arms going around her. "Feel less scared."

"How did you guess I was scared?"

"Because I know you and how you think. Suzanne they like you and they want you to be part of them. I know they can be a little overwhelming so don't worry. If you feel a bit nervous let me know. Ok?"

"Ok."

That is how his cousin Greg found them, and sitting down fanning himself with his hand he sighed, "Wow it's turning nasty out there. War is being declared between Uncle Lev and Nicolai, and there's a discussion going on as usual between Simon and Peter on whose home made sauce is hotter and better. Personally I hate the taste of both of them."

"Suzanne this is Greg, his one of my many cousins, we're the same age and went to school together. He's the one that I told you about that when we were nine put the pink dye in John's parents pond killing off all the fish in there."

"It took years for the dye to completely disappear from the pond, however many times they emptied and refilled it. The water always had a pink tinge after that. Personally I thought it looked better. Kind of made it match the pink stucco outside of the house."

"I think it was a little too Jayne Mansfield for Mr and Mrs Goldberg." Misha told his cousin.

Suzanne laughed. "So why did you do it Greg. Was it to match the colour of the house?"

"No it was to see if the goldfish would change colour from gold to pink."

Misha told her, "It just killed them. Greg was always into experimenting. He's now working as a lab technician at the hospital. I worry for the patients."

Greg smiled, "You both coming out later tonight. We thought we would hit the clubs."

"Yeah, sounds great. What time?"

Getting up he said, "Pick you up at nine." Winking at Suzanne he told her, "I'll send in the next cousin. We're easier one at a time."

*

The day was a blur of people, and Misha watched as Suzanne started to relax and become herself, even to the extent of flirting with his Uncle's. She stayed away from the women, except for Misha's mother who made a point of sitting talking with her at the end of the backyard under a big tree. Misha watched her out of the corner of his eyes, making sure she was alright, checking to see if she was relaxed and not scared or feeling excluded. Every so often he would go over and drape his arm around her, bringing her over to meet a family member or two. Careful to include her without making her feel overwhelmed.

He was so aware that she had the deep insecurity of being an outsider, and worked hard to make her feel part of the group without being besieged by his boisterous family.

Later they went home with his mother to get changed and ready to be collected by Greg to meet up at the club with the others. Watching her get ready while he sat on the bed he marvelled at the beauty of her body, her long slim waist rising up to small pert breasts tipped with the dark pointed nipples. She took his breath away, her movements naturally fluid as she reached up to let down her long blond hair from the confines of her ponytail, the long strands shimmering as they fell in a silken fountain down the length of her back. Her peach coloured skin was soft looking with a small mole towards the base of her spine, small and flat he loved to kiss it, and her small bottom was a gentle curve, hips small, curving down to long shapely legs.

Legs that he knew had amazing strength in them as they wrapped around his own hips as he thrust into her when they made love. Getting off the bed he walked up to her, standing behind her as she looked in the mirror, cupping her breasts in his large hands, feeling the pebble hard nubs with the pads of his thumbs.

"I love you Sweetheart."

Placing her hands over his where they rested on her breasts, she told him, "I love you too sugar."

They gazed at each other in the mirror, smiling. Another memory, another small moment that Misha would treasure and hold in his heart.

*

He watched her dancing, her body gyrating in the crowd of people, her arms above her head, her hips moving suggestively. Smiling as he did so, he knew it was how she made herself feel alive. Men danced around her, watching as she moved, mimicking her movements, like bees to a flower they danced around her, their hips in answer to her actions.

Misha looked next to him smiling at Greg who asked him, "You ok with this Misha?"

Winking at his cousin he answered, "She comes home with me. It's her way of validation Greg, but she comes home with me." and walking into the crowd he started to move his own body in front of hers, watching her face light up as she looked up at him, her arms going around his shoulders, her body moving sinuously against his, her laughter singing out in his ears.

Later, much later in bed he looked up at that same sinuous body, this time naked and sitting on top of him, joined to him, her beautiful breasts bouncing as she rocked those hips, her strong inner muscles of her vagina pulling and massaging his cock as it lay buried deep inside her, his hands holding her hips thrusting up as she thrust down, his mouth open panting and gasping as she dragged him closer and closer to cumming.

He watched as her back arched back, her long neck exposed as her head lent back, hair swirling down towards his balls as they tightened. The hot rush exploded and then he felt her fall forward onto his sweaty and glistening body, his heart beating loudly, her silken hair falling over his torso like a shroud.

Settling her head on his shoulder and her body to his side, his arm holding her against him, he whispered. "My God that was the first time I've done it in my parents house. I feel like a teenager that might get caught anytime."

Lifting her head up she told him, "Makes it all the more exciting. Get a little rest and we can start again."

Turning on his side he kissed her, "Suzanne, you're insatiable."

"But it keeps you happy doesn't it sugar. Happy and mine."

*

They sat in the Italian Restaurant, the tables formed into a big 'U', the family sitting around both sides taking up the whole restaurant, his mother next to him at the top of the 'U', Suzanne to his left.

It was his mother's birthday party, and the gifts had been oo'ed and ahhed over as she opened them, and now was the speeches.

Uncle Sasha stood up, "Quiet....I said quiet everyone." Banging on the side of a wine glass with a spoon, he shouted above the noise, "OK everyone just shut up for a moment. Nicky, shut up for a moment, I'm going to give a speech." Thirty five odd people groaned as he continued, "As unaccustomed as I am to giving a speech, I feel I need to stand up and say something tonight." Looking over at Misha's mother who sat there a small flush on her high cheekbones, "When my brother Francis brought over his bride that he met in England where he was supposed to be on a University study Exchange for a year back in the early seventies, I was jealous. He had found a classy, beautiful and intelligent lady, with a very sexy English accent, and I know I for one fell in love with her there and then." Lifting his glass up he told her, "Lizabeth, you made my brother happy, you fitted right in with our crazy family, your kindness to all of us is without bounds and we will miss you terribly when you go back to England, leaving us bereft. The only bonus is we will have somewhere to stay for free when we go on vacation over there."

The sound of laughter could be heard, along with the shouted comments of "Trust Sasha, always trying to save a dime if he can."

"Lizzy, you will always be a part of us, and we hope that you come over to stay with us as often as you can, for you are more than a sister in law to my brothers and me, but a friend, in all that word really means. We love you and wish you all the best in your future." Rising up his glass he said, "Here's to Lizabeth, happy birthday and bon voyage." Shouts of happy birthday and bon voyage could be heard around the room and then the calling for a speech from the guest of honour.

Misha's mother stood up, her napkin clutched in her hand, tears in her eyes, "I love you all.... I'm going to miss you." Grinning she turned to Nicolai, "but not your hot sauce, Nicky it really is industrial strength and if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, see if you can sell it as paint stripper. You'd make a fortune."

Everyone laughed, even Nicky, and people next to him patted his back.

She continued, "My mother needs me, and I don't know how long she will last, but I want to be there for her, and to spend time with her, my own sister and her family. But I will always have a part of me here with you, even when I'm over in the UK. I'm taking with me so many wonderful memories; thank you all and I love you all so much."

Misha sat there his heart in his throat, change was difficult to take, but he knew it was what she wanted. They had long talks over the last few days and he accepted this was something she needed to do. But it hurt. He'd always thought that his mother and his childhood home would be there forever, but he accepted he had moved on and now it was his mothers turn.

Still, the little boy inside of him mourned the passing of an era.

*

It was later that evening when he was sitting talking with his mother and his cousin Greg's wife that he saw Suzanne standing in a crowd of his relations, a drink in her hand, he face flushed and sparkling. He watched as she raised the glass of wine up to her mouth and drank, then as she reached for the bottle on the table, refilling up the glass and drinking down another glassful.

Excusing himself from his mother, he got up and walking over to Suzanne he bent and lifted up the curtain of her blond hair, sweeping it aside, bent and kissed the nape of her neck whispering in her ear, "If you're thirsty I can get you a soft drink!"

Looking back over her shoulder she winked, "Ok sugar, and make it a soda." handing him the wine glass, carried on talking as if nothing had occurred, animated and relaxed.

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