“Danya, are you tired?”
“Vseo v poryadke, Stasia.”
What other answer could there be when I was lounging on white bedsheets, listening to Stasia’s voice?
I stretched all four limbs, totally relaxed, and let my head roll to one side so I could see her. She was in high spirits for some reason as she cleaned up the detritus from the dark tea we’d been enjoying.
I watched her curves bend and sway, traced by the tight fit of her pants, as she worked. It was one of the most wonderful things I had ever seen.
I’d seen other wonderful things, too, of course. I wasn’t trying to rank them.
“I mean, yeah, it was a tough job. But it’s done now, so it’s all good.”
“Yeah?” Stasia set down the teacup with a clink and turned toward me. She came over to the bed and sat down—the mattress didn’t even squeak. “You did good work, Danya.”
She sounded so gentle. She reached out with pale fingers and took my left hand, still wrapped in a bandage, brushing it gently as if to comfort me.
The warmth of her from so close—her weight, her softness. How could I put those things into words?
An uneducated slob like me, whatever I said would only sound like I was making fun.
But there was one thing I could say. After a long moment, I offered, “You know, it was definitely worth it.”
I could see her face as she gazed down at me. That much was certain, she was really here.
“It means I’ll be able to listen to that singer, Jazz, right at home.”
“Jazz?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. Then she smiled and said, “Ah. It’s wonderful music, isn’t it? Not that I know that much about it myself.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
Our conversation died out, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. There’s a lot of stuff you need words to communicate, but there are some things you can only share in silence.
Stasia’s fingers brushed my hand, then she took it and tugged at it almost like she was gently massaging it. It felt sort of like she was biting it, a sensation that tickled a little and felt delightful.
“I’d better give you a reward, then,” she said.
“You don’t think you’re too indulgent with me?”
“Last time…” She smiled. “I was being firm.”
“Fantastika!”
“Would you like something to eat? Or…”
“Good question,” I said. Stasia started to get up off the bed, but I took her slim wrist with my hand, delicately. It was so thin and pale that it looked like it might break at any moment, but there was blood in there, and it was warm.
Stasia gazed at me, and—yes—I could see myself in her eyes.
Trying to sound as casual as possible, I said, “I could go for some borscht. Something with actual ingredients in it.”
She blinked, then her eyes lit up with understanding.
That thrilled me—and trying to hide how happy I was, I said, “First—what would you like to eat, young lady?”
“Danya,” she said, and that was the end of our conversation—because she pressed her lips against mine, covering my mouth.
“Mn… Ooh… Danya… Danya!”
She called my name again and again as she rained kisses on me. I embraced her slim, soft, warm, perfect body, holding her as tight as I could, yet careful not to break her.
“Danya… Mm, hhh… Ahhh! Ooh… Danya! Daaanya…!”
It was something I had to do.
I’d done what I could, and this was the result.
I thought it was pretty good, if I did say so myself.
When you get right down to it, I’m just a Janitor who kills people for money. There’s not much that someone like that can do for someone like her. Earn money, pay money, give her kisses. That’s about it.
Well, no…
—I guess I could go see one of her plays, too.
One of these days. One of these days—sometime. Sometime soon. While we were still alive.
With that thought in my head, I closed my eyes, drowning in a soft, porcelain sea.