Taking the Risk: Misha's Story Ch. 07byshandal©
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.
He walked into the bedroom with the black coffee and helped her to sit up to drink it. The hangover was bad, and she was looking a mess.
"God my head hurts."
He didn't say anything, just handed her the coffee and walked out to the kitchen.. The scene at Robin and Joanie's had hurt him badly. She had hit him before, but it had been in private when she had been drunk or high at home and he had tried to stop her. Never retaliating by hitting her back he just retreated into a place inside of himself now, going through the motions, hating her when she got like this.
It wasn't all the time she was like this, just every so often. When things set her off, when she couldn't cope, going on benders, drinking for days and taking the coke or pills to make her high, hyper and vicious. This time was losing out a role to another student at College in an Internet Commercial.
Rejection always started her off.
He moved to the Microwave, looking for any hidden drugs behind it, then walked over to a cupboard and took down the boxes looking behind to see if she had stashed them there. Moving around the apartment he looked in her favourite spots that he knew she might put them. Finding none he went back into the bedroom and leaning his shoulder against the doorframe watched her as she lay there; looking like the woman he was in love with, but feeling resentful that the demon was back having taken over her body.
"You pleased with yourself Suzy? Enjoyed the scene you played out last night at Robin and Joanie's?"
He heard her mumble an apology.
"What? I didn't hear you."
Turning over she half shouted, "I'm sorry. OK."
Turning around he left her, grabbing his jacket and walking out of the apartment. Strolling down the road he bought the Sunday papers and settled into the small restaurant over the road to have his breakfast, reading them but not really taking the words and the meaning in. His mind was almost numb, exhausted with ups and downs, the highs and lows of living with Suzanne.
He knew in his heart that he really shouldn't take her with to meet his family, just in case she made a big scene, but he couldn't refuse to take her. They were a couple and his mother had told him on the phone how much she was looking forward to meeting her. Meeting the woman he was living with and sharing his life. The woman his family back home hadn't yet met but had been told about by Uncle Dmitri.
How had it come to this mess?
Sober and clean she was the woman he loved, drunk and high she was a nightmare.
Suzanne was washed and dressed by the time he returned to the apartment, sitting on the couch, a look of regret on her face. He walked over and threw the paper down on the table knocking off some of her mess piled up on it, then walked into the bedroom to put his jacket in the cupboard.
She followed him in, watching his studied movements, absorbing his silent anger at her. "I'm sorry Misha. It won't happen again."
"You're damn right it won't." he snarled as he turned around. "You have a choice, you can either get help and stop, or get out and we're finished. I'm not putting up with this anymore."
Arms crossed around her middle, he watched the expression on her face turn from worry to shock. "Please, you don't mean it."
"I mean it Suzanne. We're over if you don't stop. You go and see a councillor at college, find out what help they can give you. You're not going to have another drink or take any more coke or Ecstasy, no more pills, no more disappearing into the cloakroom when we go out clubbing and coming out high, no more me watching you have furtive conversations with people at the club, no more misbehaviour in front of my friends."
She walked over to him, looking up, tears in her eyes. "I'm scared."
"So am I. That you might get worse. That one day the stuff will be lethal for you. That you'll get hurt. That you'll hurt me!"
She stepped forward putting her arms around his body. He stood still, his arms by his sides, rigid and unyielding.
"If you stay sober and clean for the next month you can come with me to California and meet my family. If you don't.....I go alone.... and when I return I want to see you gone."
Nodding against his chest she clung onto him.
"I want this place cleaned up, I'm fed up with all your things lying around."
"I want you to phone up Joanie and apologise."
She squeezed her arms holding him tighter. He placed her arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "Whatever is hurting you inside Suzanne can't be cured by all that stuff. You need help to come to terms with whatever it is that's eating you up."
"Please don't leave me."
"I won't sweetheart. Not if you stay clean."
He climbed into bed with her that night and she turned towards him, leaning up over his body, her mouth kissing his neck, at the point where it was most sensitive. Her teeth nipped at the skin as her hands held down his wide shoulders, her body lying down over his, rubbing against him.
His hands came up around her as his head leant back to give her more room to kiss and she lapped at the small dip between his shoulder bones with the tip of her tongue.
This was her way of apologising, of re-confirming herself, her power and her commitment to him, of binding him to her. Misha knew it and was powerless to stop it. When they made love it was always spectacular. She knew every place on his body that when she touched, kissed, bit or licked it drove him wild. Her clever mouth, which was roaming over his chest, grazing his own small hard nipples, was causing the pleasure to pool deep and hot in his groin.
Further and further down she moved, following the trail of the wiry hair as it pointed down over his belly, where she stopped off, her tongue swirling inside the dip of his navel, making his muscles in his flat belly tighten in anticipation. She then continued to move down, finding his hard penis, holding it in her hands and positioning her mouth over the tip; she coyly looked up through her eyelashes at him, before taking it into her mouth and swirling her tongue around the hard shaft.
His head threw back and his arms rose up to hold the headboard behind him as she licked and sucked at him, her warm wet mouth working him, moving up and down taking him deeper and deeper inside.
Legs spreading and rising up at the knee, he pushed up his hips to meet her movements, gasping with pleasure as he lost himself to the feelings. Tighter and tighter the pleasure pulled at him until he could feel himself swell and his balls pull up ready to explode.
She drank it all, as she always did, cleaning him with her tongue before kneeling up between his spread thighs. Looking down at his body, his chest rising and falling as if he had run a couple of miles, she smiled. "See sugar, that's the only white stuff I'm going to have from now on."
True to her word she had kept clean. Misha watched her blossom, proud of her effort, loving the way she was when she was sober. Playful and funny, she threw herself into making the flat tidy and putting her things away, buying some throws for the couch, buying flowers and an enormous vase that she put them in, spraying the apartment with scent, stocking up the fridge with food, and cooking him meals when he came home from work, tired but happy. Fussing over him.
She had made contact with the councillor at the college and had been to a few meetings, telling Misha that at one she had broken down and admitted that she didn't really like herself.
Pulling her to him on the couch, he kissed her and told her all the things he loved about her, her sense of humour, her clever mind, her talent, her braveness at coming to New York alone, and quietly he told her most of all he really liked her strength to give up the drugs and drink as he knew that was so hard and he admired her for that.
She glowed as he told her all of this, looking like a little girl who had been given a prize at school for being best in class.
Kissing the end of her nose he settled deeper into the couch, believing that the worst was now behind them.
Walking hand in hand they wandered around shopping for a birthday present for his mother. "What do think she would prefer... this one or that?" Misha held up the two silken brightly embroidered fashionable wraps.
"How would I know, I've never met her. What colour does she normally wear?"
"Mmm..... never thought about it. Why? Do women tend to wear a special colour then?"
"Men...don't you ever notice anything? We all have colours that suit us better than others. Colours that make us feel good and compliment our colouring."
"Not really, when it comes to colours on clothes I think she wears blues. I can see her in my mind wearing different shades of blues. Blues and black."
"Then this one."
Paying for the beautiful fashionable shawl he took the bag, and placing his arm around Suzanne told her, "Lead me to the next place. One gift is never enough for my mom."
They walked down the road window shopping until they found a small shop selling handmade chocolates. "Misha look at these, these are perfect."
"Yeah sugar, what woman doesn't like chocolate, especially handmade ones?"
Buying a box of selected chocolates for his mother, he also bought a box for Suzanne, which they ate that night between them, binging out on the sweet melting small cubes of different flavours whilst sitting wrapped up around each other on the couch watching a DVD of Robert Mitchum being terrifying in Night of the Hunter.
They flew into LA early on a Saturday morning. Misha and Suzanne, Robin and Joanie. Picked up by a couple of Misha's cousins they were bundled into two cars and off to Glendale and the family homes. Suzanne stared around her, taking in the sights as they went onto the Freeway from the airport and over into the suburbs and where his family lived. In the car Misha sat at the front laughing and talking with his cousin Andrei, asking how Andrei's wife and new born baby was, catching up on friends and life in general.
Robin and Joanie sat in anther car with another of Misha's many cousins following them, and eventually the two cars split up, Robin and Joanie being dropped off at his parents home, and Misha and Suzanne pulling up at his family's house.
Suzanne stood looking at the one storey nineteen thirties Spanish influence built home that Misha had grown up in. Serene it sat in a sunny and clean road, well tended frontage bright with flowers and trees; it was both inviting and homely.
Carrying their cases, Misha gestured for Suzanne to precede him to the door, when it suddenly opened and out came a tall and slim woman, with beautifully styled dark hair.
"Darling..." her arms opened and Misha put down the cases giving her a hug.
"Mom, this is Suzanne. Suzanne this is my mother."
"Hello. Welcome Suzanne. Please come in...."
Following his mother into the house, she told Misha to put the cases in the spare room, and offered Suzanne refreshments, telling her to make her self comfortable in the large airy living area with its wide French doors looking out onto a sweet and tranquil courtyard that the L shaped house curved around.
Putting the tray down in front of Suzanne, Misha's mother asked her if she preferred tea or coffee, and passing her the dainty cup exclaimed, "I'm so pleased to meet you at last. Misha has told me a little about you over the last five or six months on the phone, but he's very bad at giving me much news in his very infrequent calls home....."
Walking in Misha sat down and grabbing a cup poured himself a coffee, "So what terrible things are you telling her about me?"
"That you don't phone home enough Darling."
Ignoring the usual comment his mother made regarding his calls home to her, he asked her "So what news do you have for me mom? Anything up?"
"As a matter of fact yes. I wasn't going to tell you this so soon into your visit, but I do have some news. Your Grandmother is ill back in Guildford, and I've decided to go back home to be with her."
Shocked he looked at her, "What's wrong with Gammy? How long are you going for?"
Putting down the cup in her hand she told him, "Your grandmother is dying Misha, she has Cancer. I'm selling up and going home to England for good."
"My God mom, Gammy dying!... When are you going......?
"I leave next week after you've gone back. You're Uncles are going to arrange the sale of the house. While you're here I want you to choose what you want for yourself, and then arrange for it to be sent over to New York. The rest is being sold."
Misha looked around stunned. This was his childhood home and it was going to be gone. He felt as if the ground had been swept from under his feet, and his mother, she was going to be across the world.
"But that's miles away. Guildford...."
"It's closer to New York Misha than to Glendale by plane."
"How bad is the cancer?"
"It might be a good idea to come over and visit Gammy as soon as possible!"
"I'll clear it with Uncle Dmitri when I get back, and come over to see her."
"Good Darling, she'll be pleased to see you. Make it as soon as you can." "Is it that bad?"
"Mmm...six or seven weeks."
He had thought that this visit was one of celebration but it had turned into an end of an era in his life. One he hadn't really thought would happen.
It was another milestone in the process of growing up.