Irkutsk Ch. 20

We sat on a circle of rocks around the fire, and a shadow brought me a fur for myself. I noticed Vanda was given one too. In the half-light I couldn't see the colour of the fur - it could have been polar bear for all I knew. It was certainly welcome for its warmth.

One of the shadows seemed to adopt me. It had long straggly hair and occasionally I would notice a small shadowy breast under the fur. She brought me a wooden platter with some indeterminate substance on it. She reached and grabbed a fingerful of this concoction, indicating I should do the same. I did, and while I couldn't identify the taste, it was lovely. That may have been because I was starving: I would have eaten anything at this point. I thought for a moment that I could never have imagined myself sitting in a cave with a group of hippies in a commune in Siberia!

As I ate, and then drank from a communal bowl that made many turns around the fire, I started to feel warm and relaxed. Something in the drink of course, or perhaps in the food. No matter, I was happy and comfortable and my silent companion was enchanting. I found myself sneaking looks at the one small high breast now peeking out from the fur. It was topped with a very erect nipple.

I wondered if the exposure was intentional, and recollected the extremely comprehensive job Vanda had done of draining every last drop out of me. I did at one point notice Vanda, surrounded by two men, glance over at me and then at my companion. Was she inviting me...giving me permission...suggesting...that I take up this implied offer?

And then the offer was no longer implied. My companion stood, turned to face me, opened her furs to reveal a wonderful slim figure, then reached out for my hand. I looked over to Vanda, who smiled at me and gave a slight nod, as both her companions held their hands out in the direction I was being led, clearly indicating at least that they had no objection.

In any case my hand was gripped firmly and I was led a short distance away, out of direct sight of the fire, but still very slightly illuminated by it. Moments later it wasn't my hand that was being gripped firmly. I was being manhandled as well as being vigorously kissed.

And then suddenly we were not alone again, as a shadow appeared. It was clearly Vanda - even these - cave-dwellers - were not as finely-built as she. The two of us turned to face her. Very softly she spoke.

"You can sleep with her if you wish. We are not a jealous group."

That did not seem entirely consistent with my past experience, but the message was clear. The shadow vanished, and I was again alone with my seducer. There was no doubt about her intentions. She drew me down onto a floor that was soft, apparently with moss, and the attentions resumed as before.

It was unbelievable, but I felt the stirrings of lust again. I reached down to a generous growth of fur, already damp with desire. I hadn't even seen her face clearly, but she was going to be a lovely partner.

But it was not to be. For the first time in my life, alone with a sexy, willing and enthusiastic young lady, and despite the permission I had been given, I did not want her. Or at least only one part of me wanted her.

I thought how I might have felt if I had been in her position, if I were young, fit and handsome, and I had been trying to seduce a woman who had indicated her interest, but who changed her mind at the last minute. It was not enough to convince me to share what she was offering, but it was enough to ensure that I was as gentle and considerate as possible. But how to explain that I was restrained by bonds of "fidelity" not to just one, but to a large group of women? And even if I indicated that Vanda was my sole partner, how could I explain my unwillingness when she had indicated her consent?

I pulled away and told her that I could not do this, that it would be a betrayal. I planned my words carefully and spoke them as gently as I could. It was a waste of time - she spoke to me in an unfamiliar language, certainly not English and not like any Russian I had heard before. She was clearly not pleased. I could appreciate that.

I led her back to the fire, but there was no-one there. Vanda was no doubt using her magnificent body on one, if not both, of those fit young men. Presumably others were off in various spots satisfying each other's needs. I was coping because only a few hours ago Vanda had satisfied me more completely than I had thought possible. This healthy young woman, however, was missing out. And it was my fault. I felt as low as it was possible to feel, but I could not do what she wanted. I sat down by the fire with my head in my hands.

Time passed, and the woman sat beside me, her head hung low. I thought perhaps I had not only caused her to miss out sexually, I had probably publicly insulted her as well. I couldn't even look at her.

After a long while I heard footsteps. Two slim bare feet appeared in my line of sight. I looked up. Vanda was looking quizzically at me. Her two men flanked her.

"What is wrong?" Here was my chance to explain.

"Please, would you explain to this wonderful young lady that I misled her, that I let her down. I am committed to the Brigade. You might have given your permission, but forty three others haven't. And in any case, it is not your permission that is the problem. I committed myself to you and I meant it. I cannot accept the wonderful gift she is offering me, and yet I cannot tell her why. Whatever I try to say or do, the effect is simply to throw here wonderful offer back in her face. Please tell her that she is enchanting; that she is very sexy. And that I would love to share what she is offering, but my commitment..."

Vanda started talking. It seemed the same language the young lady had sued. Vanda spoke, and then all four were talking enthusiastically in this same language. At least everyone seemed to be smiling. Except me.

The Vanda turned back to me and explained. "Aishe", she indicated my lady, "...has explained what you did. She wanted to enjoy the pleasure with you, and was disappointed and puzzled by your sudden rejection. I have apologised on your behalf, but more importantly I have explained why you did what you did. And it was almost identical to what I did with these two men, who were similarly disappointed and confused. Except that in my case I was too sore to share what they wanted anyway. At least I had the ability to explain, and they now understand. And they have explained to Aishe, who also understands that you and I and forty three others [Vanda smiled a wry smile] are committed to our very unconventional relationship.

"The fact that you and I both, independently, did the same thing is strong evidence of the reality of our group commitment. But we cannot leave without sharing in the sexual tradition of the group."

Again, that wry smile. "You and I must make love here in acknowledgment of their hospitality, and they must be allowed to share in our pleasure, if only indirectly."

I looked at her. "But you said..."

"...I was too sore. And I am. We will have to see if we can find another part of my body that can accommodate you."

Vanda wiggled her slim hips and looked shyly around. She was going to share anal sex with me, in public. Willingly.

Aishe took me in both hands and brought me to her mouth. I thought she was going to enclose me, but she gently blew onto me through pursed lips, whistling slightly. Then suddenly other women were around me and in turn they did the same. Some of them were old and bent, but every woman there did the same thing to me. By the time Aishe had finished that first turn, the stirrings of an erection could be felt. After five, I was throbbing and desperate for release. After all of them (I think about fifteen), small dribbles of fluid were dripping from me. I looked up and saw Vanda sharing a corresponding experience with the men.

Then Vanda and I were led to an area at the side, and one of the men reached into a corner and brought out a handful of what looked like petroleum jelly. The handful was passed around the group until the last person received a small amount. Then Aishe smeared her handful onto my hardness, leaving me on the point of spurting as if I had been waiting for months. She then reached to my perianal area and pressed hard. And one by one all the women did the same thing to me. And I had a clear view of Vanda receiving a corresponding service, centred on her waiting bottom.

Then we were both taken gently but firmly, aligned for rear entry sex, and while all thirty or so all held, fondled or guided the two of us, I was inserted gently into that tight aperture. Whatever lubricant that had been applied, I slid in almost without friction, but she was still tight and pulsating around me. And all the time hands guided us, supported us, thrust us against each other, fondled us, and pressed pressure points to keep me from filling Vanda with my renewed need. Not yet.

Both of us were completely relaxed and supported in the position that allowed maximum entry. And both of us were thrust time and time again against each other. Suddenly Aishe bent around in front of me and bit one nipple. Hard. And a lubricated finger entered my own tight aperture. Other hands and mouths attended vigorously to almost every bit of Vanda's and my exposed skin. And I filled Vanda for the umpteenth time that day, this time in a different spot. And again, the sensation, the filling with seed, continued for minutes. I would have collapsed as, I think, would Vanda, if hands hadn't supported us throughout. And then, just as I fault as if I was about to black out, the mouths were lifted away, and the hands gently lowered us to a pile of furs beside the fire. We turned to face each other and hugged each other closely, intimately, gently.

Then, without any further ado, the others leapt upon each other, fucking madly like automatons, all around us. Old and young, each with the nearest, in every position imaginable (and a few that strained my imagination). On and on until they collapsed with exhaustion, until we were at the centre of a tight circle of bodies sharing out post-orgasmic bliss.

Sleep was all we were good for now, and sleep we did. Deeply and refreshingly.

I was awoken by movement around me. One of the men who had been with Vanda stood in the firelight, standing naked with his hips thrust forward and pointing with both of his hands to a mark on his groin.

Vanda translated quietly for me.

"He is saying that all of the tribe are marked with the sign of the Romany. He recalls that I was marked many years ago." She rolled back a little to show me a dark mark on her groin, in a spot that would have been covered if she had had any pubic hair. I couldn't make it out in the dark. "You are now to be marked."

Hands roughly grabbed me and held me down. Aishe and Vanda were kissing me when I felt a burning agony in my groin. On and on it went, and I could smell the disgusting, sweet smell of burning flesh and hair. Was that me? Then cold as water was splashed onto me and then something smeared on me to help the pain. I had been branded.

Aishe and Vanda were still kissing me, but now they were crying. I might have been crying too. Both were speaking, but I could understand only Vanda. She was saying "sorry" over and over again. The hands which only a short while ago had been rough were now gentle, and I felt what might have been acupuncture pricking into my feet and spine. I had to trust these people, and so I did. Gradually the pain eased, although it would be days before it vanished altogether.

The hands lifted me back onto a seat next to the fire, and others took places around us.

The group dynamic was very different now. We had a language barrier and I knew almost nothing about them, nor them about me. However, there was a feeling of closeness now, even during the silences. I noticed some of the women exposing themselves to me, and I thought these were invitations, but then some of the men started doing it too, and I realised they were showing me their brands. I stood and turned slowly, showing my brand (and maybe a few other intimate parts too) to my new friends, and there were big smiles all around. More food was brought, and we ate and drank for a while,

Then one of Vanda's men spoke, and Vanda stood up and stepped to a large flat rock near the fire. This was more formal, and Vanda paused before starting. Eventually she spoke.

Her first words were in the foreign language which I later learned was Romany. It was odd that this language from so far away was being spoken here, but then I remembered that Australia was probably just as far away. (I did check much later, and Australia was closer, but still very far away.)

After a few sentences, Vanda spoke in English. First she explained that she would say everything twice, first in Romany, then in English. For someone who had struggled to learn any Russian at all even when I was living there, her fluency and ease of transition from one language to another was impressive in itself.

Then she said that her Olympic career, as an athlete then a coach, was well-known (not to me, but I would pick that up eventually) and she would instead talk about the years after she had turned 30 and before she had lived with this group.

I thought to myself, thirty years, then the period she was about to describe, then the time she had lived with these Romany people, then perhaps ten years with the Brigade. She must be nearly fifty despite her youthful appearance.

Vanda had eventually become bored with Olympic coaching, and tired of the attitude towards coaches in Russia. The criticism had come mainly from sports journalists, and she had decided that if she couldn't beat them, she would join them. She had the advantage of being well-known in the Russian world of athletics, so she would already have a network within the business.

Soon, however, she found the world of sports journalism a world in which there was a choice of becoming either aggressively cynical or "beige". (I wondered briefly what the Romany equivalent was for this adjective.) She also found that just as sports writers criticised athletes and coaches, the writers were in turn criticised. She read out an old poem familiar to my childhood:

Big fleas have little fleas,
Upon their backs to bite 'em,
And little fleas have lesser fleas,
and so, ad infinitum.

Nursery rhyme, initially from Jonathan Swift's 1733 poem,"On Poetry: A Rhapsody"

Vanda had found writing a difficult transition from her previous world in which performance had been the sole measure. She had expected editors to be demanding and difficult, and they hadn't let her down. It had taken a little longer for her to develop an immunity to the background noise of a few dedicated and malicious but ultimately irrelevant critics. Eventually she said luck had been with her and circumstances had worked to bring respect and then popularity as a bilingual Russian and English commentator in marathon and other long-distance running.

I had not been a follower of athletics and had never heard of Vanda before coming to Russia. However, I knew that if she had been lucky, she had made that luck for herself.

I had trouble believing that I was sitting around a fire in a Siberian cave, wrapped in fur like a tribe of Neanderthals and discussing international sport and world journalism.

Our Romany friends revealed themselves to be both knowledgeable and appreciative of the outside world, and as Vanda continued speaking I started to understand why.

After many years in each of her roles, first as an athlete, then as a coach, and again as a journalist, she had burned out. She had had no break in over two decades, and had collapsed after a world championship meet. She was not suffering any serious medical condition, needing only a complete break from the unending pressure.

Some friends from her earlier days had invited her to rest with them, and she had been at first concerned when she found they were living rough (although not yet in a cave). However, she found respite in this lifestyle at the opposite end of the spectrum from what she had known most of her life. She had been treated like a child, which she had initially found frustrating and demeaning, but soon accepted as the change she had needed.

After a year living the gypsy life full-time, Vanda had moved out and back intermittently, never quite achieving emotional independence despite her healthy bank account. Eventually she had become one of the founders of the group that became the Brigade, living in far greater luxury. She emphasised, however, that she saw the two groups, the Brigade and these Gypsies, as identical in many respects. Both groups were refuges from the dog-eat-dog world of what we call civilisation. Both were populated by people who had achieved success in that civilised world, which may have been part of the reason they could function with the very informal but effective management structure that the groups also shared.

For my benefit, Vanda introduced the tribe members. I was surprised to learn of the background of each member of this rag-tag band. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by their achievements and was a little relieved when she went on to introduce me as the saviour of the Brigade. I was not sure what I had done to merit this status, but again felt warmed by my acceptance.

Aishe stepped forwards, opened my fur and reached for my groin. I was concerned about her intentions - I knew I was finished sexually for a good while longer. But instead she just touched my new brand. It was still tender, but she was gentle and the touch was momentary.

One by one the other men and women touched the spot, Vanda being the last. Than I was lifted to me feet and hugged, again by everyone present. The entire group then slowly moved out to the mouth of the cave and to our car, Vanda and I surrounded by our loving friends.

There was a comfortable, thoughtful silence inside the car as Vanda drove the winding road back to our temporary home. When we pulled up in the street she simply, silently took my hand and led me to my room. We lay on the bed and arranged the furs over us for warmth, and fell asleep instantly.