5 comments/ 28354 views/ 6 favorites Sabbatical By: Sabbatical Maybe I was only half listening, but at first I heard her last sentence as "I'm sure we'll enjoy it here." Hmmm, there's an interesting thought. I was about to make a witty reply, but fortunately I bit my tongue. I scarcely knew this woman, and yes she was beautiful but that didn't imply she was available. "I'm sure I will, Elena," I simply said. "Thanks for your help picking it out." "My pleasure, Dr. Jackson," she replied. (I learned quickly that I was always "Doctor" or "Professor", no matter how much I protested that I didn't have a doctorate and wasn't a full Professor.) Elena phoned the owner and we agreed to meet the next day to sign the paperwork. A day later I moved in. I was pleased at the way things had gone so far. An attractive, bright and cheerful apartment. A decent office on a pleasant campus. A delectable young woman in the Dean's Office brightening up my day every time I spoke with her. Even without Terri, life was pretty good. Chapter 3 Classes began on the following Monday. I quickly warmed to my students, especially the girls (and Sarah had been right, there were a few stunners and many others who were merely very attractive). I was usually in the Dean's Office at least once a day, and I was always impressed by the way Elena unflappably handled the stream of visitors and phone calls, switching effortlessly between Russian and English. Despite her looks, Oxana was no bimbo; she efficiently handled Yerzhan's schedule and correspondence. But as the office manager Elena had to deal with the walk-ins and the unexpected interruptions. I never heard her raise her voice, even to the most unreasonable of visitors. She was a natural manager of people, and I could see why Yerzhan felt he had been incredibly fortunate in recruiting his office staff. I soon met my two colleagues who were advising KBS on the other specializations. Stan Williams was near retirement age, an HR specialist who had worked at General Electric and then spent many years in the California State University system. His wife Mary had come with him so that, as she put it, "I can amaze my friends with trivia about part of the world they've never seen -- and believe me they've seen a lot!" We shared quite a few lunches. They were a delightful couple, and I envied them that they could enjoy this experience together. And Martin Hensley, the accounting specialist, was a hoot. Like a few of the British professionals I had met in England he had been an expat much of his career, and he had plenty of stories about life in places like Kenya, Oman, and Cyprus. He was also "defiantly single," to use his phrase, and chased pretty much anything in a skirt. The scuttlebutt was that he had bedded a woman from the Admissions Office within a few days of his arrival. I noticed from the beginning that Elena was uncomfortable with Martin. Oxana later told me he had tried to hit on her while she was showing apartments to him. Bad move, from what I knew of Elena. Terri and I talked on Skype maybe three times a week, usually at the beginning of my working day which was evening for her. Her semester seemed pretty much routine apart from the traveling she'd be doing. The big literature conference was just after Thanksgiving. Our conversations were friendly but without passion: more like acquaintances keeping each other updated on happenings in their lives. I jokingly mentioned in one of my first calls that I wished the video worked so she could give me a strip show. She gave a "humph!" and hurriedly changed the subject. OK, I got the picture. No more sexual innuendo for Terri. In late September I joined four other faculty members on a weekend retreat at an old Soviet-era sanatorium outside Almaty. The place had been tarted up a bit with modern conveniences, but the overall air fell somewhere between faded grandeur and genteel dilapidation. Elena was with us to take notes and keep a record of our discussions. I noticed as we checked in that Elena was having an animated conversation with one of the reception clerks and a gentleman in a jacket and tie whom I assumed was the manager. It was all in Russian, but I had no trouble understanding Elena's forceful "Nyet! Nyet!". She sounded liked she was struggling to control her temper. Eventually check-in finished and we got our room keys. I asked Elena what the discussion had been about. "Oxana reserved six rooms for us but didn't give them your names," she said. "When you gave them your passports to check in they realized that three of you are foreigners. They were going to charge us more for the three rooms. I said we wouldn't accept that, that all of you were teachers at KBS and you should be treated the same way. I went as far as to say that no one at KBS would ever come here again and we would spread the word as much as we could to stay away." She paused for breath. "I didn't want to bother Oxana or the Dean on a Friday evening. I'm just happy I got them to back down." I looked at her with new respect. Obviously there was a feisty streak in this woman to go along with the beauty and competence and grace under pressure that I already knew about. I wondered if her boyfriend ever stood a chance in an argument with her. I idly wondered what their make-up sex was like. We had good discussions on Saturday, and put a lot of flesh onto the bones of the Finance curriculum that was in the catalog. We talked about texts and assignments and prerequisites and what overseas graduate programs were looking for. We talked about KBS students -- their secondary schooling, strengths and weaknesses, study habits. Maybe it was adrenalin, or maybe the camaraderie that develops when capable people tackle worthwhile projects, but it was somehow more stimulating, and more fulfilling, than any of the curriculum development exercises I had been part of at Eastern. Elena was there on the sidelines, efficiently recording the entire proceedings. By the end of the afternoon I was ready to relax a bit -- maybe a workout and a meal. As our meeting broke up I consulted with Elena on the schedule for the next day. Yerzhan would come tomorrow and we needed to brief him on our ideas. But at the back of my mind was a more important question. Should I ask her to dinner? Since her display yesterday she was more intriguing to me than ever, and this was the best chance so far to get to know her better. Plus in this setting she couldn't read anything improper into the invitation. I hesitated, then took the plunge. "Elena, perhaps you could join me for dinner in the dining room here this evening. I hate eating alone in public, and besides I need someone to tell me what all those strange dishes on the buffet are. I was going to the gym to work out, but perhaps we can meet there about 7." "That sounds good Dr. Jackson, thanks for the invitation. I'll rest a bit and then meet you there." We did eat together, and over the evening I learned quite a bit more about Elena, and she a bit about me. She was 24 and came from Semipalatinsk, in the northeast of Kazakhstan, an area mainly populated by ethnic Russians though she herself was an ethnic mix, with a Russian father and Kazakh mother. She had three sisters, all older. "My father really wanted a boy, but never had one, so I guess I had to do!" she laughed. One of her sisters was a teacher there; one was a housewife with two kids; the third had married a man who proved to be abusive and she had been lucky to escape. She had divorced him and was working in a shop. Both her parents were still living, and she visited her family usually twice a year, traveling by train as plane flights were too expensive. She could have stayed home and studied there, but decided to move to Almaty instead. "I really wanted to do something different from my sisters," she explained. She had a degree in English from one of the state universities in Almaty. (So that explains the excellent English, I thought). She had worked in an insurance company office after graduation. When KBS had advertised for staff she had applied right away. Yerzhan had hired her for his office after a short interview. She had a roommate and lived in an apartment pretty much like mine, about 45 minutes' bus ride from KBS. She loved her job but was thinking about further study, probably an MBA in Human Resources. From her earlier job she saw that HR professionals with Western training who could cross between local firms and multinationals were badly needed in Kazakhstan. She'd already asked Stan for his thoughts and he'd been very helpful. Getting an MBA would mean going overseas, since KBS wouldn't be in a position to start one for several years. She didn't have the money so she would have to get a scholarship of some sort. I casually asked about boyfriends. Yes, she did have one, she said. A student at another university, a couple years younger than she. She gave the impression she didn't see him much. He certainly wasn't the love of her life. "If I'm going to go to school overseas I can't be married, I probably shouldn't even have a serious boyfriend," she said, and I had to agree with her. About that point two of the other faculty joined us for coffee, so the conversation moved to more innocuous things. We parted company about 20 minutes later and headed for our rooms. That evening I lay on the somewhat lumpy mattress, nursing the pleasant fatigue that comes with accomplishment, and everything began to change. Unbidden and unplanned, but certainly not unwelcome, visions of Elena began to float through my brain. Of course I had jerked off since I came to Almaty, usually to images of a couple of my students who always dressed in ultra-low-cut jeans or ultra-short skirts, real cock-teases I suspected. I would never try to hit on a student, here or at home, so they were "safe" -- fantasies could stay fantasies. That night was different. My cock stiffened to ramrod intensity as I imagined Elena, body mostly bared, seductive in a lacy bra and thong panties. Elena, shedding her bra and offering her lovely breasts for my hungry gaze. I was stroking quickly now. Elena, standing naked with her back to me, bending over to show off her delectable ass and pussy. Oh God. I wanked myself with passion. Elena, nude next to me on the bed, fondling her breasts languidly, watching me with supreme satisfaction, knowing she was the woman turning me on. That last was a little too realistic. I had to choke back crying out her name as I came more intensely than I had for months, years maybe, spurting my load all over my chest and stomach. Cleaning myself up I realized I had crossed a line. It was one thing to think highly of her as a professional, or to warm to her as a young woman with plans and hopes and dreams, or to admire her beauty. It was something quite different to have explicit sexual thoughts about her. But now my feelings were clear. No doubt now that I wanted to fuck Elena -- no, no, I wanted to make love to her the way she deserved -- and no doubt the more I learned about her the more I would want her. I groaned as I thought of the frustration I saw ahead over the rest of the semester. Yet I saw how tensely she interacted with Martin. If I tried to hit on her and said something that offended her, I'd be no better off than he. I didn't want anything to happen that would destroy our working relationship, or our friendship. Anyway, I knew from long experience that seduction had never been one of my strengths. I wrestled with my thoughts for more than an hour, my body tossing around on the bed as my emotions tossed around my brain. Eventually I concluded that it was best if we stayed as friends. Any move to be more than friends would have to come from her, not me. With that decided, I fell into a restless sleep. I did my best to act normally around her the next day, and later as we returned to our usual weekday routines. I detected no hint that she saw anything different in me. I was wrong. Chapter 4 On Thursday in midterm exams week I had an early meeting about employment prospects for Finance graduates with two British bankers. I didn't arrive on campus until after 11:00 and as I walked into the office wing I knew immediately something was wrong. Students hardly ever hung out around the faculty offices, but that day there were little knots of them standing together talking. I entered the Dean's Office and saw Oxana and Elena sitting on the couch. Elena's head hung down and she was sniffling. Obviously she had been crying. She looked up at me as I came in and it was clear she was badly shaken. "What happened, Oxana?" I asked. "Why is Elena so upset?" "Dr. Jackson, Dr. Rahman collapsed in his office a half hour ago. The ambulance took him away but we think he's dead." "I did everything I could!" Elena burst out. She collapsed again in tears. I was shocked. Mohammed Rahman was younger than I was, certainly no more than 40. I didn't know him well but he seemed like a decent guy and I knew his students said good things about his teaching. He had a wife and two kids in Bangladesh and seemed devoted to them. How terrible for his family, I thought. How terrible for all of us. "Are you sure about him?" I asked Oxana. "Where's the Dean?" "He's on his way. I phoned him. " She composed herself. "Dr. Rahman was talking to a student in his office when he fell forward in his chair. His head must have hit the desk top and his body slid out of the chair to the floor. The student ran in here shouting that Dr. Rahman had fallen on the floor in his office. The Dean wasn't here and Elena sort of took charge. She told me to call an ambulance and to call the Dean on his mobile phone. Then she hurried to Dr. Rahman's office. She started giving him CPR and mouth-to-mouth and trying to revive him. She didn't know if he was still alive." She paused. "She blames herself for not being able to revive him. After about ten minutes the ambulance crew came and took over. They worked on him for a few minutes, then carried him out on a stretcher and sped off. We haven't heard anything more." Elena had stopped crying but still looked distressed. I walked over and sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders, silently willing her to stay calm, not to beat herself up mentally over a twist of fate she could not control. Oxana stayed next to her on the other side. Neither of us said anything. There was no need. About five minutes later Yerzhan walked in. He was ashen. "The hospital phoned me a few minutes ago as I was driving here. Dr. Rahman was dead on arrival. They suspect a massive heart attack but they can't be sure without an autopsy. Oxana, will you call HR and get a phone number for Dr. Rahman's wife. I ought to tell her the news myself. How sad, how horribly sad." Oxana started for her desk. He turned to Elena. "Elena, I heard about how you tried to help Dr. Rahman. I know you're upset. Please don't blame yourself because I doubt anything anyone could have done would have made a difference. Why don't you take the rest of the day off. I'll get Yevgeny to take you home. Oxana, while you're on the phone can you ask Yevgeny to wait outside?" I spoke up. "Yerzhan, I agree Elena should go home but I think she needs someone with her. If it's all right with her I'll go with her. I'll make sure she gets there safely and stays calm." "OK with me, Dan. Elena, is that all right with you?" She nodded mutely. Oxana found her purse, I picked up her coat and, with my arm still around her shoulders, we slowly walked her out to where the car was waiting. We rode the first few minutes in silence. Abruptly Elena spoke. "I think he died in my arms, Dr. Jackson," she said quietly. "Oh God, why? Why couldn't I do something?" Of course I had no answer. To comfort her I said "Elena, maybe it was fate or destiny or circumstances or karma or whatever, I have no way of knowing. What I do know is that the way you went to help him was remarkable. You were thinking only about him and what you could do to help him -- you weren't thinking about yourself. To me that shows real courage, I'd go as far as to say heroism." "But I couldn't do anything to help him! I failed, Dr. Jackson. I did everything I knew and I still failed." "No, Elena, you would only have failed if you'd done nothing," I said. She had no reply to that, and we lapsed again into silence. "How did you learn lifesaving?" I asked after a minute or so. "I worked at Kapchagai for two summers while I was a student," she said. Kapchagai was a resort area on a lake, a couple hours' drive away. "I had to learn lifesaving skills including CPR. I never had to use them though. It was drilled into us in the training, there is no time to waste if someone is drowning. You have to start trying to revive them right away once they're out of the water. You have to respond pretty much by instinct. I guess that's what took over when that student ran in saying Dr. Rahman had collapsed. I was acting on instinct. It only hit me afterwards what had really happened, how a man actually died while I was trying to revive him." She shuddered afresh at the memory. I had a brief mental image of Elena in a swimsuit on a lifeguard stand, her model's body turning heads up and down the beach. I decided that for now I had better bury that image in the darkest corner of my subconscious. "Well, I hope the people who trained you hear about what you did today. They'd be proud to see that you used your instincts the way you did, to help save somebody's life." Oops -- that didn't come out right. I got flustered and began to stammer. "Uh, well, I mean. . ." Seeing me so tongue-tied made her giggle a little. "Relax, Dr. Jackson. I know what you mean, I know what you're trying to tell me. Don't worry, I'll be all right, it'll just take some time for the shock to fade away. I think you're wrong, I don't think I did anything heroic. Like I said, I just acted on instinct. It's just so sad that I couldn't do anything for him . . ." Her voice trailed off and she fell silent again. I decided I needed to change the subject, to get her mind off what had happened. "Elena, tell me about where you went to school. Yerzhan -- er, the Dean always says that KBS is different from the state universities. Maybe you could help me understand what the differences are -- is it the students, the courses, teachers, buildings, maybe all of the above?" She giggled again. "All of the above sounds about right." She began to talk about her experiences as a student, adding in some things she'd heard from Oxana and others about the places they'd studied. I was genuinely curious and chipped in a question from time to time, but mostly I just let her talk. The therapy seemed to work as she became visibly less stiff, her face more animated, her posture more relaxed. At one point, as she recalled a story of how a group of classmates had tried to rig the student government election, she actually laughed. It was music to my ears. After some 15 minutes Yevgeny pulled up to a nondescript apartment block. "Here's where I live, Dr. Jackson. Please don't worry, I'll be OK. Thanks for coming with me -- you were right, it does feel so much better having you with me, having the chance to talk." "Do you need me to come in with you, or help you with anything?" Was it in my imagination that I detected a hesitation in her response? "N... no thank you, Dr. Jackson. I'll be fine. I've already taken enough of your time." No you haven't, I thought. Not at all. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again." She got out and headed for the building door. I signaled Yevgeny to wait until she had punched in the entry code to the outer gate and, with a wave, disappeared inside. On the ride back it was that last minute that I kept replaying in my mind. I had invited myself into her apartment for the purest of motives -- to support her in her distressed state and, as I told Yerzhan, to make sure she stayed calm. So what might have happened had she accepted? Would we have simply talked some more, maybe had a drink or a snack, further cemented our friendship? Or, as the devil on my left shoulder was crudely telling me, would there have been more? Might we have ended up making out, or even screwing each other? I couldn't say. Certainly I wanted to think that I would never take advantage of a woman when she was most vulnerable, when she most needed a shoulder to cry on, when she trusted that the man with her was a rock and a support. Only a real scumbag of a man would do such a thing. Sabbatical "But what if she started it?" the little demon whispered, unconvinced by my logic. Again I had no answer. The next day Elena was back, outwardly unchanged, her usual superefficient self. Only people who knew her well, like me, noticed a shadow of sorrow in her eyes. If anything it made her more desirable to me. We shared an unspoken bond now, like wartime survivors of a hellish battle. I still wanted her -- wanted her badly -- but I held true to the decision I had taken at the retreat. Anything beyond looking and talking would only be at her initiative. All I could do was endure. Chapter 5 The rest of the semester flew by with no more dramatic incidents. Yerzhan hired a part-timer to take two of Mohammed's classes. Stan and I were happy to cover the other two. In my case it was a second section of a course I already was teaching so it wasn't much more work. I presented the revised Finance concentration curriculum to the Academic Council and was pleased to see it sail through with no dissent. I made sure I spoke with Elena every day. Usually I stopped into her office late in the afternoon, when there were fewer visitors to occupy her. We would chat about anything and everything, often for just a minute or two, but sometimes for much longer, me just luxuriating in her presence. Oxana said nothing; by then she was used to my ways. Once I caught Yerzhan giving me a strange look as he was leaving for the day, but I quickly let it pass. Exams were held over a ten-day period in early December. The last exams were on a Wednesday and grades were due in by Friday morning. KBS faculty had to stay on campus up through the President's "convocation", as he called it, which was on Thursday right after exams this year. That was no problem for me as I wasn't leaving until the following Sunday. By luck of the draw I had an exam on the last day. Yerzhan graciously offered to change it to an earlier day, but I declined. No sense hurrying off, and anyway I'd be home in plenty of time for Christmas. Stan and Martin had all of their exams in the first three days, and left right away when their grades were done. Stan and Mary were spending three weeks in China and Hong Kong before going home to California. Martin had a job interview at another UK campus, for an admin position. I wondered whether maybe he had run through the ranks of willing females where he was and needed a change of locale. Oh well, "whatever," as my son Steven would say. No matter what I thought of his womanizing, he was a brilliant teacher and gave a lot of valuable curricular advice to KBS. I knew I wanted to get some kind of gift for Oxana and especially for Elena. The Eastern sweat shirts and coffee mugs I had with me didn't seem right somehow. On Monday during exam period I went over to the President's office to see Aigerim, his personal assistant. She was a good-looking lady of about 35. She was also very married and about eight months pregnant with her third child. Even Martin hadn't tried to hit on her. After exchanging pleasantries I told her my dilemma. I wanted gifts for Elena and Oxana that they would use and appreciate, but wouldn't come off as being too personal. She thought a minute and then said "There's a new cosmetics store that opened over on Dostyk a few weeks ago. You could give each of them a gift certificate. I'm sure they'd be thrilled. A lot of girls don't have much money to buy the fancy brands of makeup. It would be a luxury they probably wouldn't dream of buying for themselves." "That's a wonderful idea, Aigerim. I'll do it tomorrow. Thanks so much!" I left her office with a spring in my step. The next day I arranged for Yevgeny to drive me to the shop, using the address Aigerim had written out in Russian. As we drove up to the store he looked puzzled, but then he smiled broadly. "Elena?" he asked. Damn, had I been that obvious? "Da. Ee Oxana," I replied, a little shaken, mustering about all the Russian I had learned. "Karasho," he said, still smiling. Looks like Aigerim had picked a winner. I bought two gift certificates for 10,000 tenge each. Not without difficulty as the sales assistant spoke no English and I couldn't get the notion of a "gift certificate" across to her. Finally a supervisor came over who knew some English and we finished the transaction. As I left I could see the two of them whispering and sneaking furtive looks at me. Probably they thought I was buying a present for a mistress, maybe even two. Well, let them think what they want. As beautiful and desirable as I thought Elena was, my time at KBS was reaching its end and I had resigned myself to the fact that bedding her was not going to happen. I persuaded the night security guard to unlock the Dean's Office early that evening, and slipped the envelopes onto their desks. My exam wasn't until 11 on Wednesday, so I arrived about 10 and casually wandered into the Dean's Office. Oxana saw me first. "Dr. Jackson, what a wonderful present!" she squealed. "Thank you so much!" She flung her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek, more passionately than her husband would have approved of. I could feel her ample breasts pressed tightly against my chest. Elena followed. Her kiss on the cheek was more reserved, but also more intense and lingering -- or perhaps that was in my overheated imagination. "That was so thoughtful, Dr. Jackson," she said. "You're a good friend and a really wonderful man." I glowed from head to toe. "And you ladies have helped me have a fabulous semester. I'm the one who needs to thank you." I excused myself before I started babbling, or tripping over my tongue. But I floated through the exam and the rest of the morning, still basking in Elena's praise. Thursday morning was the President's assembly. The plan was that when KBS had graduates it would be a full-fledged graduation ceremony. For now it was a chance to get together and congratulate each other on a job well done. The President and Yerzhan gave short speeches praising the progress KBS had made. The President thanked the visiting overseas experts who had joined KBS for the semester and asked me to stand for recognition. I was pleased to hear that the Board had set up a scholarship fund in memory of Dr. Rahman, with the funds targeted to students from smaller rural schools in Kazakhstan. That was fitting as Dr. Rahman had come from a small village in his native Bangladesh. The President went on, "On the day Dr. Rahman passed away one of our colleagues made a heroic effort to save his life. I've spoken with the Board members and they agree that we should recognize her actions today in front of the entire KBS community. Would Elena Sultanbekova please come forward and accept this certificate of appreciation." Elena stood and came forward to much applause. I knew that in her own mind she still felt she hadn't done anything heroic, but it was gratifying to see top management sharing my point of view on the matter. Friday was my last working day, and that evening was the dinner that the President financed and Yerzhan hosted to mark the semester's end. I stayed in the office much of the day, boxing my books for shipment and making sure all the materials for the revised Finance courses were in order. At mid-day I took Aigerim to lunch, to thank her for her gift suggestion. I only saw Oxana once all day and didn't see Elena at all. That seemed odd, but I knew I'd see her at the dinner. Since spouses and significant others were invited, I assumed Elena would be there with her boyfriend. The prospect of meeting him was depressing. It had been a glorious fantasy, dreaming that Elena could be mine even for a short time. Now that vision would pop like soap bubbles. In mid-afternoon I Skyped Terri as she was just waking up. I told her I wouldn't be in the office after today and couldn't phone her. If the airport had Wi-Fi I would e-mail her from the departure lounge. She said fine and that she was glad I was coming home. We broke the connection. Still no passion there, I thought. Dinner was at the Skyline, a classy and expensive restaurant not far from campus that became a dance club after 10 on weekends. I arrived shortly after 7, knowing that since nothing ever started on time we would not eat until 8 at the earliest. A few faculty were already there. Yerzhan came up to me and introduced his wife, a distinguished-looking lady about his age. Oxana was standing nearby with a tall gentleman whom she introduced as her husband. I said hello to them, then wandered the room chatting with some of the other faculty and a few spouses I hadn't met before. I was talking to a young Accounting colleague when he suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, staring at something over my shoulder with an expression of awe on his face. I turned and saw that Elena had just entered. I understood why my colleague was struck speechless. She was stunning! She wore the archetypical little black dress, short and low-cut enough to display her legs and a bit of cleavage without looking slutty. Her hair was done up, which I had never seen. And she was alone. No boyfriend in sight. She waved to a few people including me, then went over to talk to Oxana. Several eyes followed her. Understandably so. She was definitely the most beautiful woman in the room. She could well have been the most beautiful in Almaty that night. The meal was excellent, and as usual at banquets there was plenty of wine, vodka, and brandy for everyone. After the main course Yerzhan rose to speak. He thanked everyone for all their good work during the semester. He informed us that the Board had approved the next phase of the campus development project at their meeting earlier in the week, and that construction would start in the spring. This was greeted with applause. He then thanked the visiting scholars-in-residence for all of the expertise they had freely shared with KBS. In Kazakhstani fashion he offered a toast to the three of us. As I was the only one present, he then invited me to say a few words. I had expected this -- Oxana had given me a heads-up -- and I was prepared. I began by thanking everyone for the wonderful hospitality I had enjoyed during the semester. I praised the esprit d'corps and collegiality that I seen among the faculty, and how well we had worked together on the curriculum revision. I complimented Yerzhan on his leadership, and the Finance Director on his willingness to risk Yerzhan's wrath by insisting that budgets were respected. I mentioned some of the praise I'd heard from students about their teachers and their program. I saved my last words for Oxana and Elena. "Oxana, I know you're the person who allows the Dean to keep his sanity." Everyone laughed. "It's important to everyone that the Dean stays sane -- so that makes you a very important woman at KBS. I know you do so much work behind the scenes that even close colleagues of yours don't hear about. I just want you to know that everything you do for KBS is much appreciated. I hope when I come back to visit years from now you'll still be there, still working to hold the School together. Thank you Oxana, and I wish you the very best." I was partly aiming my words at her husband, whom I knew was expecting Oxana to stay at home once they started a family. I turned to Elena. Since her boyfriend wasn't there I departed a little from what I'd planned to say. "Elena -- is there anywhere else in Kazakhstan that I could find the same combination of professionalism and courtesy and courage and efficiency and kindness and, yes I'll admit it, stunning beauty all in the same woman?" The last part was what I added. "I don't know, maybe there is somewhere, I haven't visited every office in Almaty. But working down the hall from a young woman with all those qualities has been my exquisite pleasure. So many administrative offices are forbidding places, but not here. You make the Dean's Office a welcoming place. Wherever your career takes you, I'm sure you'll bring that same graciousness to your office, your work, your colleagues -- and between that and your steel determination I'm sure you'll go far in whatever path you choose. I wish you the very best of everything. Thank you Elena, good luck, God bless." I closed with a general thanks to all and an invitation to visit me in the US, followed by a toast to KBS and its future success. As I sat down after the toast I didn't look at Elena. I wasn't sure how she'd react to my heartfelt, part-improvised paean to her wonderfulness. Maybe I'd embarrassed her. I remembered that as a kid I'd been tongue-tied around pretty girls, and half-smiled. Some parts of my life had certainly changed for the better. After dessert and coffee the party began to break up, and as I wouldn't see most of them again I said my goodbyes as people left. A few of the younger faculty were staying around, waiting for the dance club to open. I was tempted to wait with them but remembered that I had to get my laptop from the office. I started to head toward campus and, to my surprise, Elena joined me. She must have left something behind that she needed. We made small talk as we walked about the dinner and about her plans for the break between semesters. I thought about asking where her boyfriend was, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I had reached my office door and was about to unlock it when Elena asked the question that changed my life. "Did you really mean what you said at the dinner?" she asked. She sounded a bit shy and hesitant. "About you? I meant every word of it. You are a remarkable young woman and I really hope you have the chance to get that MBA or do whatever you want for a career." "No, what I mean is . . . about being beautiful?" I have no idea why I did it. Some kind of instinctive response maybe, like the instinct Elena fell back on when she went to help Mohammed. I pulled her to me and kissed her. On the lips. Hard. She froze for a moment, then rapidly melted into my kiss. I held her tightly, savoring the gentle freshness of her skin, the scent of her shampoo on her coiffed hair. She moaned gently. My excitement was evidently communicating itself. I broke the kiss after what might have been 20 seconds, or 20 minutes. "That's how beautiful you are," I said quietly. She paused for a few seconds, her face flushed, her eyes a volatile cocktail of uncertainty and desire. Then she launched herself at me and kissed me fiercely, insistently, violently. Our bodies were plastered to each other, our hands roamed, our tongues danced. No hesitation anymore, no half-measures; her intent was clear and I responded in kind. I had been half-hard since we started walking to campus, thinking of how she looked under her coat, but now my erection sprang to life. Even with our coats on she had to notice. Anyone in the hallway could have seen us. I don't know if anyone did. Everything around us had fallen away. There was only the immediacy of our embrace, the intensity of our kiss, the immenseness of our suppressed passions now burst open. She pulled away. "Not here. Not now," she whispered. "Tomorrow night, at your apartment. I know where you live. I helped pick it out, remember?" She said the last with a half-giggle. "Yes, Elena, tomorrow night." I thought quickly. "Let's meet at the Bosporus at 7 for dinner and then go from there." "I'll be there, Dr. Jackson." She turned and headed for her office door. "Sweet dreams," she said mischievously as a parting shot. Fat chance. She knew very well who my dreams would be about. I did a quick scan. No one around that I could see. I retrieved my laptop and walked home in a half trance. I didn't think about the fact that I was going to cheat on my wife. I didn't think of what Yerzhan would say if he got word of what happened. Let the consequences fall where they may. I only cared that the most wonderful woman in the world would be in my bed tomorrow night, and we would make love. Chapter 6 I had pretty much cleaned out the refrigerator, so I had nothing to eat in the apartment. Thank God at least I had a bed. I didn't know if Elena planned to spend the night. Of course I hoped she would, but I wasn't about to phone her to ask. I went to the corner bakery and bought some pastries. I went to the supermarket and bought oranges and cherries, and some of the flavored tea I knew Elena drank at the office. As I neared the checkout I grabbed a three-pack of condoms, just so I was prepared. Martin had told me many local women weren't on the pill, because of the expense. The Bosporus was a Turkish restaurant just a block away from my apartment. I arrived a little early and chose a secluded table. I had worried all afternoon that Elena might think better of the situation and simply not show up. I called over a waiter and ordered a bottle of good Georgian wine. Even if she didn't show up, I was going to have myself a nice farewell dinner. I needn't have worried. Precisely at 7 she entered and quickly found me in the corner. She was dressed more conservatively then the night before, but her blue print dress still showed off her toned, slender legs. Her hair was down but she still wore heels. I stood and greeted her with a casual, affectionate hug. As I held her chair for her to sit she noticed the bottle of wine. "Dr. Jackson," she said with mock disapproval. "I didn't think you were the kind of man who got women drunk and took advantage of them." "I'm not, usually. You must bring out the best in me." She blushed. "And for tonight, at least, please call me Dan." That was the last we spoke about what was to come. Over a delicious meal we had the same sort of free-ranging conversation that we'd enjoyed in her office. We talked about her country's political future, my country's souring economy, my thoughts on Kazakhstani students, her thoughts on Kazakhstani men (not at all favorable). And we did finish the wine, though I drank about twice as much of the bottle as she did. It was 8:30 by the time I paid the bill and we left. I noticed that at the coat check she retrieved a large floppy bag. Good, I thought. Looks like she's ready to stay the night. I broached the subject indirectly as we started to walk to the apartment. "Does your roommate expect you back at a particular time?" I asked. "No, she's in Shymkent for a week with her family." Then, quietly, "I'm all yours." I pulled her to me and kissed her, and we clung tightly to each other the rest of the short walk to my apartment. As I punched in the entry code to the building's outer door I remembered mishearing her words on the first day, when we looked at the place. "I'm sure we'll enjoy it here," I had thought she said. Oh yes Elena, I thought now. Yes we certainly will. No sooner had I shut and bolted the apartment door than we were all over each other, picking up where we had left off the night before. After a minute or so of deep kisses and frenzied embraces, we came up for air and both laughed. "We ought to at least take off our coats," I said. We hung them on the hooks next to the door, along with my sport jacket. I guided Elena to the living room, where sitting on the couch we continued our explorations. Now while we kissed I had one arm around Elena's shoulders and one cupping her breast, while she stroked my back. I didn't turn on any lights. The light from the street lamp outside, filtered through the flimsy curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows, was enough to cast Elena's curves in alluring shadows. Without warning she stood up and, when I moved to join her, she took my arm and firmly pushed me down again. She reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. With a shrug of her shoulders it fell to the floor at her feet. Stepping out of her heels, she bent over to pick up the dress and set it on a nearby chair. She was as magnificent as I had dreamed. She wore a dark lacy bra, maybe black, maybe dark blue, I couldn't tell in the light, and matching bikini panties cut high on the legs. The lamplight showcased her body to perfection. Sabbatical "Elena, you are so incredibly beautiful," I said. "Thank you Dan, you're pretty good looking yourself," she responded. She moved to me and straddled me, lap-dancer style, with her hands around my neck and her panty-clad crotch grinding into my erection. I had never had an actual lap dance, but what she was doing felt pretty damn good. She moved her hands to my chest and began to unbutton my shirt buttons while continuing to grind away on my cock. I let her undo them all and quickly shed the shirt. She used her index finger to trace little circles in my chest hair, while I reached around her and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, pushing her crotch even more tightly against mine. After a minute or so she reached back to unfasten her bra. With one quick motion it was off and tossed to one side. Her breasts were perfectly shaped, maybe a "B" cup, just the right size to fill my grasp, with small dark aureoles and largish nipples, now firm and taut in her obvious excitement. "Wow," I said. "Just perfect, like the rest of you." "They're not too small for you?" she asked, with a hint of anxiety. I gave her the old line "Anything more than a handful is wasted," figuring she'd never heard it. In the back of my mind I wondered if she'd been dumped at some point by some idiot for a bigger-breasted girl. Oh well, his loss. Now I would get to worship those glorious tits, slowly, patiently, devastatingly. And I did. I had gotten very good over the years at getting Terri worked up by paying attention to her breasts. Now I used my experience on Elena. I took her right nipple between my lips and massaged it. I ran my tongue slowly around her aureole --once, twice, again. I took the whole nipple into my mouth and sucked gently. I lightly nipped the very tip of her nipple with my front teeth. Then I gently held her nipple between my teeth and flicked my tongue over the tip. Moving to her left breast I repeated the whole sequence while cupping the other one with my left hand, rolling the nipple between my fingers. Her breathing became ragged and her grinding on my crotch became irregular, then stopped completely as she abandoned herself to the sensations. She began to gently moan "Ooooohhhhh, Oooooohhhhh Dan, Oooooohhhhh" as her excitement slowly built. It was time to escalate. I pulled away from her nipple, hearing a groan of disappointment. "Let's go into the bedroom," I said quietly. She stretched out on the bed, and I admired the full-length view of her lithe body as I quickly shed shoes, socks, and slacks and lay next to her. I pulled her close to me and started in again on one breast, moving my free hand down her body and gently squeezing her ass cheeks. I slid it under the waistband of her panties and moved it low enough to run my middle finger over her slit. She was wet, very wet, and my finger easily slipped between her pussy lips. Slowly I moved it back and forth, teasing her, finding her entrance and poising as if to penetrate, then sliding it away. Her body jumped as I rubbed her clit each time on the upstroke. Her eyes began to glaze over, her moans became more guttural. She was unmistakably a woman in heat, and I had never seen anything more arousing in my life. I withdrew my hand and brought it to my lips, licking my finger and tasting her juices. Then I sat up, reached down and slid her panties off. She had a lovely pussy, with rather prominent inner lips, now damp and slightly parted, and a neatly trimmed bush matching her hair color. I again lay next to her, nibbling lightly on a breast and cupping her mound with my hand. Slowly I kissed my way down her body, stopping to insert my curled tongue into her navel. She giggled. As I began to move lower her entire body stiffened. I looked up questioningly. "Are you going to . . . kiss me down there?" she asked. "Kiss you, lick you, nibble you, I want to do it all Elena," I replied. "Would you rather I didn't?" "I don't know, Dan, no one's ever done that to me before." "Oh you poor deprived child," I said. Another giggle. I was getting to enjoy hearing that giggle. "In all seriousness Elena, I hope you'll give me the honor of being your first." She thought for a fleeting moment, then nodded. I again worked my way down her body, lightly nibbling as I went. This time she did not resist, but slowly spread her legs to give me access as I moved closer. With two fingers I parted her pussy lips and took a close look at her pink treasure. "Oh God Elena, your body is incredible," I said reverently. And then I dove in, without waiting for a reply. I licked up and down the outside of her pussy lips. I spread them open and slowly licked her pink insides with a flat tongue, from her opening to her clit, giving the latter a little flick with the tip each time. I curled my tongue and penetrated her as far as I could, lapping up her juices that were flowing freely. Then I started on her clit in earnest, using the old trick of spelling the alphabet with my tongue, wishing I knew the Russian alphabet that has seven more letters. She gasped and moaned and called my name and sighed and growled words in Russian I couldn't understand. It was when I sucked her clit into my mouth, just as I always did with Terri, that she let loose. Her growls and moans because a high-pitched screech "Oh Dan OOOOOOHH DAN AAAAAAH AAAAAIIIII IIIIIEEEEEEEE." Her thighs clamped like a vise around my head and her entire body spasmed with the force of her orgasm, jamming my face tightly against her pussy and damn near suffocating me in the process. As she started to come down I extricated myself from her death grip and moved back up beside her, cradling her in my arms and allowing her to slowly rejoin the living. It took her a couple of minutes. She finally spoke. "Oh my God Dan that was amazing. The whole world was exploding, my head was bursting into a thousand pieces. I've never felt that way before, never. Thank you thank you thank you!" and she squeezed me tightly while getting a taste of her own juices with a passionate kiss. As she broke the kiss she seemed to become aware of the bulge in my briefs pressing into her. Her hand moved down and latched onto it. "Hmmm, what do we have here?" she said, half to herself. "Looks like maybe I should return the favor." She slid to the foot of the bed and eased off my briefs, releasing my cock from its confinement. She disentangled the briefs from my legs and, before I could say anything, moved back up and took the head of my cock into her mouth. She may have never received oral sex before, but certainly she must have given it. That was my thought as I enjoyed what, if it wasn't the best blow job in my life, was certainly in the top three. She alternated between taking me deeply, circling my cockhead with her tongue, then gently sucking my cock like a straw. Then she would lick the shaft, from balls to tip, before devouring me again. With all that stimulation and the continuing sight of her hot, naked body, I wasn't going to last long. Soon I could feel the telltale tingle in my balls, the sign that I was about to lose it. "Elena, I'm getting close!" I groaned, not knowing what her preference was. "Mmmmm," she said, without removing her lips, and kept right on sucking. That was all it took for me. My first shot hit the roof of her mouth. She flinched, but kept her lips tightly sealed around my cock. I spurted shot after shot into her mouth, the warmth of her lips and tongue amplifying the sensations until I almost passed out from sensory overload. She did her best to swallow it all, but a small dribble of cum escaped from the corner of her mouth. Eventually I softened, and she released her hold. A quick flick of her tongue took care of the offending cum. I lay back exhausted, disoriented, completely satiated; a textbook example of All Fucked Out. "You've done that before," I croaked. It was all I could think to say. "You're right, I have -- my boyfriend likes it, and he's not the first man I've done it to," she said. "I've never swallowed though. Usually I don't let a man finish in my mouth. A couple of times my boyfriend did without warning me and I've just spit the stuff out. You're the first man that I've wanted to swallow for. It tastes interesting, actually -- sort of sour and salty and bitter all at once. I think I could get to like it." "I'm flattered, Elena, but why do it specially for me?" "Silly man. After what you did for me just now I wanted to make you feel just as good." I didn't answer, and we lay side by side for a minute without speaking, basking in the afterglow. "I had an argument with my boyfriend this week," she said suddenly. "Oh?" I asked. "What was it about?" "About the dinner to start with. I wanted him to come with me, but he said he didn't want to waste an evening with a bunch of old people. I told him those 'old people' were my colleagues and friends and I didn't like his attitude. It got worse from there and finally I walked out of the restaurant we were at and left him. He's not a bad guy, really, but sometimes he only thinks about himself. He tried phoning me but I wouldn't answer his calls. He finally texted me to apologize for what he said, but he still wouldn't go with me. Even though he apologized I was still angry with him. I did answer his text but we haven't talked since I walked out on him." "But that fight was probably the reason I made a decision I'd been thinking about for a while, but kept putting off because I didn't have the courage. What I decided is that I wanted you, and before you left I was going to have you." My mouth must have dropped open ten feet. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She went on. "You didn't see me yesterday because I took a day off. There aren't many students around after exams and everything was planned for the dinner, so the Dean let me. I bought some new makeup using your gift. I had my hair styled, which I haven't done for months. I pulled that black dress from the back of my wardrobe. I know it looks good on me, it was only the second time I've worn it. I wanted to look my very best for you, because one way or another I was going to get you to take me to bed. If you had stayed for the dance club I would have stayed with you. You walked back to campus, so I walked with you. Had you gone home, I would have found some way to go with you. You actually made it easier for me when you kissed me. I knew you were thinking the same way I was." I was still trying to take in what she was saying. This exquisite creature decided she wanted me? And she'd thought about it for some time? "Again I have to say I'm flattered, Elena. And again, I've got to wonder why me? There must be dozens of men who'd give anything to spend time with you, in bed or out of it." "Dan, I know, I do get hit on a lot. I guess Oxana told you about Dr. Hensley. One reason I stay with my boyfriend is that we can go out places and I don't get bothered, not much anyway. But you're different. You've always been a gentleman. We've talked enough so that I think I know you pretty well. I'm more comfortable around you than any other man I know. You're in good shape, pretty handsome actually. And your little speech last night -- that was the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. You obviously have feelings for me, but you've kept them hidden, or tried to anyway. I'm sure it's been hard." She lowered her voice a little. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. I can tell you've wanted me for a while now." How could I deny it? "Yes, Elena, at least since the retreat. Probably earlier if I'm being honest." "But you wouldn't have done anything about it, would you? So I did. And now we've had each other, and it's so wonderful, you're a marvelous lover." She was silent for a few seconds. "You know, on that horrible day, the day Dr. Rahman died, I nearly invited you in when we got to my flat. I've thought a lot this week about what might have happened if I did. You'd been so kind, so thoughtful, so concerned about me and how I was reacting to what had happened. I'm sure I would have thanked you with a hug and kiss. But would I have stopped there? Maybe not, I really don't know, I do wonder. Maybe we would have been lovers for weeks now." I couldn't help it. All this talk about her wanting me and me being her lover for weeks was getting me hard again. Guess I wasn't All Fucked Out after all. She noticed of course, and reached down to take my cock into her hand. "Are we up for more?" she asked, with a seductive tinge to her voice. Then she stiffened, and her face took on a look of determination. "I'm ready for this, Dan. You're ready, too. Make love to me, Dan. Put it in me." I reached over to the night stand and grabbed a condom. Quickly I tore the wrapper open and rolled it onto my rigid cock. She spread her legs and I positioned myself above her at her entrance, pausing just a moment and getting a soundless nod in assent. With two thrusts I buried myself to the hilt in her pussy. Her gasp looked to be surprise and not pain, but I wasn't sure. How big was her boyfriend, anyway? I wasn't anything more than average. I paused so she could get used to me. Then I started a steady rhythm of slow, forceful strokes. Every so often I'd break up the rhythm with a few quick strokes, then slow down again. She was into it now, quietly moaning "so good...ohhh...so good" as she pushed her hips upward to meet each of my thrusts. I knew it would take me a while to climax, between the condom and her earlier blow job and, of course, my age. My worry was that my arms would give out before either of us finished. I made a quick decision and pulled out of Elena. "Turn around and get on your hands and knees," I said. She complied. I have always liked doggie style: it gives me the chance to fondle the woman's breasts or stroke her clit while I enjoy the sight of a pretty rear view. Now I lined up behind Elena and sank into her pussy with one stroke. She cried "AAAAAIIIIII ... oh Dan, you're so deep ... ooooooh." I picked up the pace as Elena began to thrust her ass backwards to meet me. Soon I was pounding into her pussy like a man half my age, incredibly turned on by her marvelously shaped ass and her stream of moans and growls and Russian expletives. She was losing control rapidly and I was close behind her. When I reached around her to stroke her clit she exploded at the first touch. She shrieked in ecstasy and her entire body convulsed with pleasure. The exquisite sensations from the spasming of her pussy walls clamped tight around my cock triggered my own explosion. I cried out her name "ELEEEENAAAAAAA ... AAAA ... AAAA!" as waves of passion crashed over me, obliterating all thought, drowning my senses. We both collapsed onto the bed. I barely had strength to pull out of her, strip off the condom, knot the end, and toss it in the general direction of the waste basket. I rolled next to her and quietly held her while she mumbled something over and over sounding like "so wonderful ... so wonderful." In a few minutes we were both asleep. Chapter 7 I woke first to the unfamiliar sensation of bare female flesh. Our bodies had stayed spooned together during the night, and my hard-on was pressing against Elena's lower back. I looked at her luscious, naked body and thought back over the previous evening and how our passions had collided so tumultuously, and I smiled. But right away another thought overtook me, a much gloomier one. This was the day I was due to leave. We had only just discovered each other and now we'd be torn apart, probably for good. I needed the toilet badly, so I rolled away from Elena and out of the bed. She stirred and half-opened one eye sleepily. "Good morning, lover. Sleep a while longer if you want to. There're towels next to the shower and I'll leave a robe out for you to wear." She grunted thanks and rolled over. I used the toilet and then hopped into the shower. I'm not ashamed to admit that I do some of my most creative thinking in the shower. That morning I tossed around the possibilities. Change flights? Not likely without a penalty, and it would only give us a day or two more together anyway. Fake an illness? Doubtful I could pull that off, and Terri would be pissed if I wasn't back for Christmas and might ask awkward questions. Before my shower ended I'd come up with a plan. A desperate one to be sure, but if Elena went for it there just might be a chance we could see each other again. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I went into the kitchen to set out breakfast. I heard the shower turn on as I started the teakettle going. As I was finishing my first cup of tea Elena appeared at the kitchen door, wearing my robe and with hair still damp from the shower. I suspected she wore nothing underneath the robe. Even with no makeup and tousled hair she still looked striking. I could live with this forever, I thought. "You are so beautiful, Elena. Please sit and let's have breakfast." She did, and we sat quietly for a few minutes as we ate the fruit and pastries, content with each other's company. "So, how do you feel this morning?" I finally asked. "A little sore down there, but otherwise very good, thank you. I slept very well. Oh, and no regrets, by the way. Last night has to be the most marvelous night of my life. You were great. And to be honest I think I was great too. I think I finally see what all the fuss is about. And now this morning it hurts so bad because you'll be leaving, probably you're never coming back." "I feel exactly the same, Elena. No regrets for me either, and you were great, and leaving you is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done." I took a deep breath. Might as well lay it all out, I decided. "Elena, when we've talked before, you've been pretty sure you wanted to study for an MBA. Is that still what you'd like?" "I think so, Dan. For what I want to do that's probably the best degree. But you know I don't have the money to go away." "I've been thinking a bit this morning." Relax, I told myself. Just say it, the worst she can say is no. "What would you think about doing an MBA at State." State was the flagship school in our public university system. "It's a very good school, one of the top 50 business programs in the US. All the universities in our system want to attract overseas students. A student from Kazakhstan would interest them because it's a new market, I doubt they've had any before. I know the Dean of the College of Business there and I'm good friends with a few of the professors. I could certainly recommend you for a scholarship, I would say I knew you from my sabbatical." I went on with my spiel without looking at her closely, babbling on about the great teachers and the beauty of the campus and the friendliness of the city. When I did look at her I was shocked to see that she was crying. "Elena, have I said something wrong?" More tears. "Please, please tell me, say something!" She only cried harder, deep piercing sobs that cut me to my core. It was a couple of minutes before she could even begin to compose herself. "Oh Dan, you are such a wonderful man," she choked, struggling hard to keep from crying again. "There's nothing really that ties us together, despite what we've shared this past night, and yet you'd still help me, help me to try to reach my dreams." She did break down then, and I waited for her tears to subside. "I couldn't do it, Dan," she said at last. "Maybe this doesn't make sense, but everything I've done up to now has been on my own. I came to Almaty on my own, got my degree, found a good job, then an even better one at KBS. I'm ready to move on now when I can, but I'd like to think that I'd do it because of who I am, and what I can be, not what someone else thinks of me. It's not like I don't appreciate what you're offering me. I really do, it means a lot that you'd think to help me that way. But in some sense I'd feel like I owed you something, and that's not the way I want to feel towards anyone, even a wonderful man like you. Do you understand what I mean?" I'm not sure I agreed, but I basically understood -- she was 24, after all, and far from worldly wise -- and I made an appreciative noise to that effect. Sabbatical She went on, "But of course that's not all of it. If I were studying there, both of us would want to keep on with what we've just been doing. You know it as well as I do. What would happen to us, to me especially, when your wife found out? That's 'when', Dan, not 'if'. You've been married a long time, right? She has to know you well, she certainly would pick up that something was different. And you're pretty easy to read anyway." I grimaced. I knew that already, and I never did like being reminded of it. "You say you know people there who would help me, and that's great, but she must know people too, and I'm sure she could find ways to make life hard for her husband's lover." When she put it that way, it all sounded a bit tawdry. Terri's husband's lover. Not a phrase implying a hint of illicit romance, like "Dan's mistress" perhaps. I was sorry now that I had ever brought up the subject. Elena was right; carrying on with an affair -- and no doubt at all we'd want to -- would put her in an impossible position. "Forgive me, Elena," I said, forlornly now. "I was caught up in the moment, I wanted to see you again so desperately, wanted to continue everything we have -- everything; our talks, our friendship, just as much as the loving we've enjoyed, though I want that badly too." She smiled at that. "I was very selfish. I wasn't thinking about you and how you might be hurt. I'm so sorry." "Dan, you're so sweet. It couldn't work for us and I think honestly you know that. What we'll have to be content with are the incredible memories we'll have of each other, from the time we first met to the time we finally connected last night. I will treasure those forever. No doubt too that you've spoiled me for other men. I'll always be comparing them to you, in bed and out of it, and I know that so many will fall short, because you are really the best there is." She paused a second. "And now," she said as she stood up and loosened the robe, confirming she had nothing on underneath, "let's go back to bed. We haven't finished yet and I'm the selfish one now; I want to overdose on memories." It was every bit as good as the night before, but the mood was very different. Our coupling was slow, languid, deliberate. Neither of us wanted these moments to end. I was seeing her body in the light of day for the first time, and I pored over every detail of her practically-perfect form, storing each of them away in my brain like digital photos on a hard drive. We stayed in the missionary position and I tried to memorize her expressions: the sharp intake of breath as I feasted on her nipple, the little surprised o formed by her lips as I bottomed out in her pussy. It could not last, of course. At length she urged me onward. "Faster, Dan. Harder," she breathed. "Make me yours." The thought of Elena being mine excited me beyond belief. I gave her what she asked for, faster and harder, and then even more so, and she responded with cries and moans and fingernails clawing my back, and the universe was reduced to my cock pounding into her fiercely, wildly, relentlessly, and everything caved in as we went over the top together in a blaze of passion. I rolled off her and discarded the condom. We lay together without speaking. No words could possibly express the swirl of my emotions at that moment. "Oh Dan, I will miss you, I'll miss you so much." She started to cry again, gentle tears this time, and I held her equally gently until she calmed down. "Wow, we are a sticky mess," she said with her trademark giggle, and she was right, we had worked up a sweat towards the end with our reckless fucking. "After that, I think I need another shower." "Go right ahead. Use any towel you want, they all stay here anyway." The shower stall was not big enough for two, so I couldn't join her, but I did have one last trick. I waited until she'd been in about a minute, then slid the door open and shut off the water. Before Elena could say anything I grabbed a handful of liquid soap and began lathering her body. I soaped her all over, shoulders to feet, with special attention to her breasts and her ass cheeks. She began to moan. Standing behind her I stroked her slit with one finger, then slid inside her lips and inserted one, then two fingers into her pussy while my other hand fondled first one breast, then the other. She moaned louder. Soon her knees buckled and she had to grab the shower rail as she shuddered her way through her fourth orgasm of the last half day. I dried off quickly, got back into my clothes and retreated to the living room. In a few minutes Elena came in, gloriously naked, to retrieve her bag and the clothing she'd shed last night. I whistled appreciatively, and she blushed. Then she ran over to me and enveloped me with her sparking-clean body in a fierce embrace, while giving me a soul-shattering, time-stopping kiss. "That's a thank you for what you do to me," she said after breaking the kiss, and moved back to the bedroom to dress. When she emerged, she was wearing a loose top and tight jeans, much like the clothes she was wearing when I first saw her, what seemed like half a lifetime ago. "Here, Dan," she said. "Like I said, I'll have my wonderful memories. You should have some too," and she tossed me the panties she had worn the night before. I still have them, hidden in my shaving kit, though her scent has faded. Awkwardly we embraced again, our silence saying more than words ever could. "I guess this is good-bye, Elena," I said at last. "No matter where I go, no matter how long I live, I will always remember you and the time we've had together." "Dan, me too, you will have a special place in my heart, forever and always," she replied, misty-eyed like I was. She walked to the door and donned her coat. "Good-bye Dan. Thank you, thank you for everything." A last kiss and she was out the door. I watched numbly from the open doorway as she headed down the stairs. At length I heard the slam of the outer gate echoing in the stairwell. I moved to the living room window and watched her walk away until she disappeared, heading for the street corner to flag down a taxi. Robotically I went through the motions of cleaning up and packing my things. Mechanically I carted my bags downstairs and climbed into the van for the ride to the airport. At least I had presence of mind to leave Yevgeny a generous tip for his many kindnesses. With a blank face and a leaden heart I went through check in and immigration and security, only caring that every step, every process separated me that much further from Elena, putting up impassible barriers between us, setting a seal of finality on our parting. No Wi-Fi in the departure lounge. But what would I write anyway? That I had had the most devastatingly glorious sex of my life with a woman I would probably never see again? At that moment my feelings overwhelmed me. I put aside the laptop, buried my face in my hands, and let the tears flow, tears of longing and hopelessness and yes, I finally dared to admit it, lost, forbidden love. By chance two girls in the class I had picked up from Mohammed were in the departure lounge. I was looking down and didn't see them approach, until one spoke. "Professor," she said, a bit nervously. "Are you all right? Is there anything we can do?" I looked up and hurriedly composed myself. "Oh hello Larissa, hello Sholpan. No I'm all right, just feeling sad about leaving. So much has happened here, so many wonderful things for me." Yes indeed. More than I can ever tell the two of you. "Yes Professor, we wanted to tell you that we enjoyed your class, we were so glad to be your students even just for a few weeks." That was kind of them, I thought. An announcement began, in Russian. "That's our flight, got to go. Have a safe trip and a wonderful holiday." "You too ladies, thanks for stopping by, have a great trip." They went off to board their flight. An hour later I had boarded mine, and was heading for home. Epilogue It was on my third night home, after my jet lag had mostly worn off, that Terri surprised and delighted me by appearing at the bedroom door in a form-fitting black teddy. The night of passion that followed prompted a hurried visit to Victoria's Secret for a suitable Christmas gift, after a quick search through her clothing drawers to determine her sizes. Over the Christmas holiday and then into the new semester we settled into a new and, to me, wonderfully fulfilling sexual relationship: not that frequent -- maybe twice a week -- but with a willingness to experiment that I hadn't seen from Terri for years, if ever. We even tried the kitchen table, though we both agreed that would be a one-off since it just wasn't comfortable. Maybe Terri has a story of her own to tell. Maybe she'll write about it here. I'm in no position to judge her, not after my night, make that my semester with Elena. Meanwhile I'm very content with my wife and my marriage. I have no doubt that I'm an incredibly fortunate man. Elena and I swapped a few e-mail messages after I returned. She filled me in on some KBS news and gossip, but she never mentioned our last night together. Then in late April I received a letter from her, addressed to the office. The envelope was standard KBS letterhead but the handwriting was unmistakably Elena's. I eagerly ripped the letter open. She had broken up with her boyfriend, which was no surprise. More interesting was that Martin had helped to arrange a scholarship for her to study at his new university in the UK. She would start her MSc in Human Resource Management in August. Guess I must have planted an idea in her head and she ran with it. Interesting that she had approached a man she disliked, one who'd certainly be trying every way possible to get into her pants. But of course she'd anticipated that. "Don't worry," she wrote. "I know what he's like. I know he'll try to seduce me. Trust me, that will never ever happen. There is no way that he could ever be as considerate, as passionate, as fabulous a lover as you." She continued: "Dan, I'll remember for my entire life the night we spent together. Not just because of the pleasure we gave each other in bed, though that was wonderful. It's because that night was the fitting climax to a semester where we first were colleagues, then became good friends, and, dare I say it, by the end we were a bit in love with each other. I know what I felt for you was more than physical attraction. I have no doubt that some day I'll find true love, and I'll be able to recognize it when it happens because of my time with you. For that I owe you a debt that I can never repay. I wish you the very best, and I hope you think of me with the same fondness with which I'll always remember you, the first man to touch my heart, my first real love." "With my eternal gratitude, Elena" In every man's life there are the what-ifs, the might-have-beens -- the friends who might have been lovers, the lovers who might have been companions. I will grow old, I may become impotent, eventually I'll die, but I will carry to the grave the memories of a young woman who for me will always be the ultimate might-have-been, the remarkable, incomparable Elena. Thank you for reading. Terri's story may follow, if there is interest. Peace to all. AW