Indecent Proposal

Soon after Sergey and I got married, he, to my relief, stepped aside altogether.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not up to the company now," I answered him harshly.

"Why? Did somebody hurt you? Just tell me, and I'll punish him up!"

There was a wave of optimism from Mikhail, which contrasted sharply with my mood, but trying to be polite, I still answered:

"Just a bad day. Problems, you know."

"And you try sharing them with, let us say, me. Who knows, maybe it's not so bad."

And then it was like something broke inside me. My optimism, multiplied by my black melancholy, blew the cork out of a bottle of warmed champagne. Tears came pouring down in a hail, and I burst into tears...

I came to my senses from the monotonous, soothing voice, and found Mikhail was sitting next to me, hugging and holding my face against his chest and stroking my hair.

"Now, now, everything can always be fixed. The only thing you can't fix is death, but that's not what you're talking about..."

"What if it's about this?" I pushed the comforting man away from me and straightened up, trying to stifle my tears.

"From that point on, please, tell me more details." Mikhail pulled himself up and stared at me watchfully.

And I, tired of all my unsuccessful searches and the need to keep everything a secret from my husband, told him everything. The words came pouring out; a little incoherent, jumping from one to another, I told him what diagnosis my husband had, how much treatment costs, and how I raced through my friends and knocked on doors, trying to scrape together the money for at least one course, and how got an epic fail everywhere. What I could scrape together was barely enough even for one course, and that included the sale of the apartment.

Mikhail listened carefully, without interrupting, but so that I wanted to tell him everything to the end. Which I did.

Deflated after the confession, I took out my handkerchief and began to clean myself up. At that moment the waiter brought more coffee for me and the man sitting next to me, who at some point managed to make an order.

"And now I just don't know what else to do," I finished with one last sob and wiped my eyes with my handkerchief.

Mikhail was quiet for a while, and then slowly said: "You know, Marina, as I think, it's not so hopeless. We just have to think about it, and then who knows, maybe I could be able to do something."

"Really?" Hope flared up in me, and I stared at the man.

"Really," he said confidently, and then added: "In the meantime, I suggest we get something to eat here, you obviously need your strength. And you know what, come to my office the day after tomorrow, maybe something will be clearer."

My heart was beating fast. I had been given hope, and I was willing to do anything to make that hope a reality.

***

Mikhail

Recently my holding had been booming; its high-quality metallurgical products were very popular both at home and abroad. There were some thoughts on expansion, but half a million bucks was easy to take-out and would have had little to no effect on the state of the company. Another question was, why would I do that? Of course, I was no stranger to charity. Not so long ago a charitable foundation established within the holding provided targeted help to children who were in need or in trouble. But here it is different.

I liked, one might even say liked very much, this sweet and cheerful girl, or rather a young woman. When I saw her today, I was just amazed at how different she was from herself a few months ago. Nevertheless, I did not want to part with the money for nothing either. After all, who is her husband to me? I even had a nasty thought in my head that his death would give me a chance to chase this beautiful woman, even despite her look today.

I pressed the intercom button:

"Nikolai."

"Yes, Mikhail Vasilyevich."

"Urgently gather all the information on Sergey Veselov, manager of Silicavel JSC. Especially about his illness."

"How urgent?"

"I think by tomorrow evening I would like to have the whole picture."

"It'll be done, Mikhail Vasilyevich."

I switched off and thought about it, resting my chin on the thumb of my right hand, my left hand tapping softly on the table. Sure, it's a lot of money, but I wondered how far a woman would go for the man she loved.

***

"How can you do that to me?!" Marina said dumbfounded in response to my proposal.

"And what's wrong? Why should I throw away so much money, without getting anything in return? Your husband and I are not friends; we do not even know each other. Are you suggesting that I'm willing to throw money away so easily just for the sake of humanity? Then look at how many sick and destitute people there are in this country... If I were to help everyone like that, my money wouldn't last long. I'm willing to help in concrete terms to your husband, and it's only fair that you get involved.

"What about...?"

"Barter. It's just a simple barter. Claw me and I'll claw thee. That's the way it's been done since the dawn of time. But I guarantee he'll be all right. I will provide all the necessary treatment, and even if the amount you mentioned is not enough, I will still see it through to the end. Moreover, since he will be treated in Germany and for quite a long time, I will ensure that you visit him in the clinic, providing my personal plane and accommodation in the best hotel, let's say, for a week after two."

Marina sat there as if frozen. Her face looked like a mask, but it was as if I could see her thoughts running wildly through her head. She had tried everything, nothing worked, and here is a chance. And what a chance. Gradually the expression on her face showed that she had come to a decision, and I stepped in:

"So, what is your decision? Shall we go over the details of the agreement again?" I asked and continued without waiting for her response:

"So, in a week, your husband and you will be issued visas to Germany, at the same time I will conclude a contract with the Charité clinic for the admission and treatment of your husband. My consultants have conducted preliminary negotiations, and the clinic is committed to putting him on his feet. They assure me that after that he will be completely healthy, but just in case he will be insured at my expense by Alliance SE in case of relapse, and if anything, Charité will do everything necessary to prevent a relapse in the future."

I looked intently at Marina.

"Is everything clear so far?"

The white as chalk woman nodded stiffly, and I continued:

"So, on Monday next week you fly with your husband to Germany by Lufthansa flight, and, having arranged him there, a week later you return on my private plane here, where you have to fulfill your part of the deal. And in two weeks, you will fly back to Berlin on my own plane. Your booking will be at the same Steigenberger Hotel, within walking distance of the Charité, where you will spend a week with your husband and then return to me. And so on until he is discharged. I think there's no point in telling your husband about a private charter, you can always say you flew Aeroflot or Lufthansa. And as for the money, feel free to refer to my charitable foundation, everyone will be warned there."

"And what will happen to me?" The woman said with trembling lips.

"Oh my God, no big deal. It's just that when you're here, I'll become a kind of deputy to your husband."

"But how will he...?"

"He won't know anything, and as soon as he comes back here, I swear I won't let him know a word, and I'll be out of your life forever. You'll have to put up with me just for about ten weeks in total. Besides, I promise I'll do everything I can to make those weeks seem less awful to you. Just make sure you keep your end of the bargain, too. I can understand that women sometimes have headaches, or they are in no mood at all. In that case, of course, I'm not going to rape you, but if you do it too often, it can lead to the termination of the contract, with all the consequences..."

"I understand", Marina exhaled. "So, how is it going to be?"

"Tomorrow, you have to give me your passports and photos for the visas, and then take care of your husband. Then come back here. You will be met by my driver, and he will bring you to my house. You don't need to take anything from your home, everything you need will be bought here," and I held out my hand to seal the contract, noticing that the girl's hand was icy.

"Now, now, don't worry so much, the main thing is that your husband will live."

***

Marina

The gentle rocking of the limousine lulled me to sleep, and my head was all jumbled up: the packing, the flight, Berlin, the clinic. So many things. There are two weeks behind us filled with bustle.

At first, I had this difficult conversation with Sergey. I had to tell him about the diagnosis, but I did not have the courage to say that this disease, if left untreated, is often fatal. I did not want to drive my husband into depression. But what I said was enough to completely knock him out of his equilibrium. Fortunately, the news that the charity foundation 'Partnership' is ready to allocate funds for his flight to Germany and treatment, and even promises to provide my flights to him for a week after two, returned his self-control to some extent. But most importantly, he is holding up.

I also had to make an agreement at work about short-term unpaid leave to have flights, but here Dmitriy Anatolievich helped, and everything sorted itself out by itself. Besides, he told me that the 'Partnership' foundation had transferred money to the clinic and my vacation would be paid. Then I had a talk with my parents...

And after that there was the actual flight and registration at the clinic.

There we were met and accommodated by a very good-looking doctor, Professor Stintzing, still young, but already inspiring confidence with his vast knowledge, confidence and detailed explanations. He gave us a tour of the clinic and Sergey was placed in a private room with a toilet, shower and TV. The fact that the room had high speed Wi-Fi was a big help, so we could stay in touch.

There were three meals a day at the clinic on a choice of three menus, and if that does not suit your taste you can order something customized that will certainly suit the discerning taste of any patient.

I spent all the time this day with my husband until the night, we walked around the university garden, remembering all the good things in our lives and being charged with optimism for the future. It was not until about eight o'clock in the evening that I went to my hotel, which was not far, a ten-minute walk across the Hugo-Pröyss-Brücke Bridge. Fortunately, my suitcase was on wheels.

The large double room with a bed of king size was rather ascetic. In addition to the bed itself there were two nightstands on its sides, a table with a chair on wheels in front of it and a TV on the wall above it. Another small round table with a wing chair and a floor lamp were nearby. In the bathroom, in addition to the toilet, there was a bathtub and a shower, so I could use whatever I wanted.

I took a shower and stretched out on the bed exhaustedly. I didn't feel like doing anything, my head was full of thoughts about the future. I could not find the strength to confess to my husband about the deal I had made with the oligarch, and I tried not to think about it. In addition, I was worried about Sergey and what the examination would reveal, what the tests would show. With this I fell asleep, and in the morning, I went back to my husband.

In the middle of the week all examinations and tests were done and Dr. Stintzing assured me that there was nothing super complicated and they would start the first course of treatment tomorrow. He assured me that the main symptoms would be gone by the end of the first course, i.e. in three weeks, and that after that it would just be a restorative treatment and subsequent courses to consolidate the results. He confirmed once again that if nothing unforeseen occurred, the entire treatment would take about three and a half to four months.

Now these words of his warmed my heart and gave me strength for the future.

***

A limousine stops, interrupting my memories.

Mikhail's country cottage in an upscale community was practically a palace. Three-story, more than three hundred square meters in plan, it contained eight bedrooms; a master bedroom and seven guest bedrooms located on the second and third floors. On the first floor there was a huge living room with an entrance hall, a big kitchen-dining room and two rooms for servants. And in the basement, there was a game room with bar and billiards, gym and indoor pool with access into the outdoor one through a plastic curtain. Next to the pool there was a sauna, so you can swim all year round.

All bedrooms are equipped with their own bathrooms.

I was met on the broad porch by Mikhail himself and the servants lined up beside him: the housekeeper, her husband the gardener, the cook and two visiting maids. I could also see the guards in the courtyard, but they tried to be inconspicuous.

"Okay, everybody," Mikhail said to the residents, "This is your new mistress, Marina. Follow all her orders as if they were mine."

Embarrassed and blushing, I looked reproachfully at the landlord, but said a polite hello, and hurried to follow him inside the house to escape the stares.

My host led me to a huge bedroom with a king-sized bed and a wardrobe-like closet that could be entered as a room. Mikhail pointed to the right side of the closet and said, switching to more familiar language, "This is where your stuff will be. I bought something for the first few days. If you need anything else, tell Glafira, my housekeeper, she'll take care of it."

I saw a couple of dresses and a pantsuit on the racks, and underwear in the drawers. Everything seemed to be my size, as the owner confirmed. "My secretary Ira is practically your size. She bought everything to her taste. If you don't like anything, we'll replace it."

"But why? I don't need all these, I have my own ones," I babbled completely embarrassed. "I'm here just temporarily."

"It's okay. The main thing is that you don't have problems with it. And now we'll have dinner. For your information, we don't really have a set meal schedule, but we usually eat together: breakfast around seven in the morning, lunch from one to two, and dinner at six or seven in the evening. However, if you suddenly feel hungry, you can always find something in the fridge in the kitchen. In the meantime, go change, and I'll go out so as not to embarrass you."

I nodded with gratitude, but I did not take a chance of changing into someone else's clothes, and began to unpack my suitcase. I took out a change of underwear, a pink blouse, and a dark blue skirt, and went into the bathroom to take a shower after the trip.

The bathroom was a lot better than the one in the hotel, despite its five stars, and had a window. It was about twenty square meters in size, and there was a large Jacuzzi tub in the center, near the window, and a shower stall to the right of it. The toilet itself, was placed to the left, behind a frosted glass partition. Various kinds of shampoos, conditioners, and other cosmetics not always recognizable to me, such as body milk, were shelved in rows near the tub and in the shower stall. To the left of the door was a large washbasin with a mirror above it, and on a shelf were two glasses of toothpaste and brushes. The one on the right had a brush sealed in cellophane and a new tube of toothpaste, and the one on the left, the owner's one, also had a safety razor and a bottle of shaving foam next to it. A touchless liquid soap dispenser hung on the wall between the glasses.

I took a quick shower, appreciating the ability to switch the shower head, which allowed me to choose different modes of operation, to the "rain shower," wiped myself with a fluffy and soft towel, one of those hanging on a hook to the right of the door, and went into the bedroom. I tried not to think about what was going to happen here anytime soon, but the thoughts flashed through my mind. I couldn't imagine cheating on my beloved husband, but I remembered Mikhail's words about breaking the contract.

It wasn't that I didn't like him, but the very fact that I would have to sleep with him made his image, if not unpleasant, certainly not desirable. This evening, however, he did not encroach on me. After a sumptuous dinner, at which I could not even recognize all the dishes, he took me to the bedroom and left me alone, "to get used to it," as he put it.

Two weeks passed that way: Mikhail slept in one of the guest bedrooms, allowing me, the guest, to use the master bedroom. But he spent every evening talking to me, we watched TV or records of movies and TV series together, and Mikhail was always interested in what exactly I liked, as if compiling my psychological portrait.

In the evenings after work, I would go home and spend at least half an hour on Skype talking to Sergey, and then I got into the limousine and went to Mikhail's country house.

Despite the fact that our communication had become more relaxed, and by the end of the two-week period, not only the owner, but also I, were addressing each other on a short name basis, it was all quite stressful. I expected every minute to start pestering, and it did not allow me to relax and fully appreciate all the comfort provided in the mansion, despite the helpful staff. I kept feeling like I was being discussed and judged as a corrupt woman. And this tension only subsided on the flight to Berlin.

***

Mikhail

Marina's week with her husband was full of optimism, especially since she had learned that he was no longer suffering from constant bleeding and that his strength had recovered considerably, and, as the people looking after them reported to me, they often walked together across the river to the Spreebogen park, going there by a circuitous route across the Moltke-Bruges bridge and further passing the Swiss embassy. And having walked enough, they would take the shorter route back along Konrad-Adenauer-Strasse via the Kronprinzenbrücke Bridge.

By the end of the week her husband had more strength, and they were already going out to Platz der Republik, reaching the Reichstag, whose walls still bore inscriptions left by Soviet soldiers and carefully preserved by modern Germans, even such as: "Berlin is over!"

Her and Sergey's conversations usually revolved around procedures, the people around him, plans for the future, and how much he missed her. Marina was sharing news about how her activities at the clinic were going, the latest surgeries in which she took part, about the weather in our city and everything else. But not once did they touch on our agreement with her, which raised my optimism. She also missed Sergey and told him so with a pure heart, which always ended in kisses.

Marina returned home already quite calm. Apparently, it seemed to her that from now on everything would be the same. But this was not part of my plans, so in the evening, on the day of her arrival, I, as usual, took her into the bedroom, but instead of leaving, began to undress myself. Marina froze, staring at me.

"Wh-what do you want to do?" the girl asked in a trembling voice.

"I want to take a shower... with you," I answered cheerfully, as I stripped down to my boxers. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

"I... I... can't... I'm ashamed...

"Well, what nonsense, since we agreed that now I am your husband, and you should not be ashamed before your husband. You're not ashamed before Sergey, are you?"

Marina seemed to be numb. Of course, she knew that sooner or later it would happen, but it seems, she hoped that it would be later rather than sooner. And now the moment had come. I walked up to her, gently hugged her and pressed her to me.