"Sun Valley"

This story began when, one day in mid-August, a friend of mine who lives in another city called and said in a voice that brooked no argument: "On August 28th at six in the evening, you must be at the 'Sunny Valley' tourist base." My friend Tatyana works for the police; even her immediate superior doesn't dare argue with this lady major, let alone me. Her husband Slavka simply adored her and preferred to obey his wife rather than be guilty of everything. Tatyana and I have been friends since school, and our friendship, according to Slavka, was a hundred times more reliable than any male friendship.

The 'Sunny Valley' tourist base is located on the shore of a small but beautiful

lake, surrounded by mountains and forests. How it happened that there's no settlement right by the lake, I don't know. There are only a few tourist bases and a dacha belonging to some high-powered government department. 'Sunny Valley' consists of about twenty guest cabins, a small bathhouse, a dining hall, and administrative buildings. We vacationed here about two years ago with Tanka and Slavik; the fourth person was my then-lover Igor, who never became my husband. The cabins are mostly four-bed and two-bed, quite comfortable and cozy, except the toilets and showers are shared and located at the edge of the base. It's about fifty meters to the lakeshore, and the nearest village is 18 km away, so it's unusually clean, quiet, and everything is conducive to a peaceful rest. If I had known what kind of "peaceful" rest awaited me, I would have sent Tatyana far, far away.

Well, and then we settled in, unpacked our bags, loaded the fridge with food and alcohol. Amid these pleasant chores, Tanka and I managed to exchange the most impatient news, Zhenya mostly stayed quiet, only occasionally inserting humorous comments into Tanka's stories. I felt somehow uneasy, but I couldn't find or understand the reason for my anxiety. Finally, the things were put away, both bedrooms took on a lived-in look. Tatyana and I settled in one room. There was a stove in the little kitchenette, and we quickly threw together some snacks, after which we sat down at the table. A shot of cold vodka after five hours of driving went down wonderfully. Zhenya and I had already forgotten we'd just met; it felt like you'd known the person for ages. With a certain pleasure, I listened to Zhenya's laughter, open and infectious. Sometimes I caught her gaze on me, studying, affectionate. Tanka sat there, pleased, happy that Zhenya and I liked each other. In short, the company turned out just right; all three of us had roughly the same tastes, views on life, we were the same age, and if arguments arose, they never turned into quarrels, everything turned into a joke. I didn't exactly eliminate my inexplicable anxiety, I just pushed it deep into the recesses of my consciousness.

After swimming, we continued to party, preparing a delicious dinner from the fish we brought with us. We partied with songs, jokes, laughed until we hiccupped, and finally even danced. When we had no strength left, we sat on the little porch and, looking at the starry sky, quietly sang our favorite song together: "Under the blue sky..." That's how the first day of my new life ended.

Over the years, Tatyana and I developed a certain routine for vacations. When we meet, we get merrily drunk, but all the other days we consume very moderately. More for a state of relaxation than for intoxication. But the first morning, of course—it's the hardest. And so now, in a half-asleep state, in just my swimsuit, I trudged to the fridge to greedily gulp down a can of cold natural juice. I hear unsteady steps behind me, I say:

 — Tanka, why did you get up, I would have brought it to you.

Hearing Zhenya's voice, I almost dropped the can on the floor. How could I manage to forget about Zhenya's existence with a hangover! Zhenya stood before me in the same "outfit" as me. My eyes were drawn to the dark nipples of her breasts, sticking out right in my face. Zhenya was also looking with interest at my breasts. We had similar builds, but our breasts had slightly different shapes and sizes: mine were a bit larger. Unexpectedly, she silently reached out her hand and took my breast in her palm. She stroked the nipple with her thumb, looking straight into my eyes. I couldn't even breathe, I stood there, not breathing and looking at Zhenya. A wave of cold washed over me. I don't know how long we stood like that; it felt like an eternity had passed.

We were jolted awake by Tanka's roar:

 — Well, where are you with that juice!

I was lying with my eyes closed, trying to fall asleep. Tatyana had gone into Zhenya's room, and they were lazily gossiping about something. And I was thinking about the morning incident. Although I didn't know what to think, confusion overwhelmed me. What was that? It was clear that Zhenya and I had an immediate mutual attraction. But beyond that, everything was a mystery to me.

Is Zhenya a lesbian? Or was her movement an accidental impulse? How to behave further? The thing is, I considered myself a true heterosexual, and lesbianism was only indirectly mentioned in a joke about a man: "I must be a lesbian, there are so many handsome men around, but I'm drawn to women." And I sincerely couldn't understand, how can women actually give each other pleasure? Of course, I've seen porn with lesbians, but everything there was so staged and unnatural, you couldn't help but think that real lesbians behave the same way. And in general, I don't like the word "lesbians" itself; it reeks of something vulgar, crude. Stories about women's prisons, about violence, come to mind immediately, and masculine-looking individuals are imagined.

I woke up to amazing smells; Tatyana had cooked her signature pilaf. The girls were talking in low voices. I heard footsteps heading towards our room, turned to face the wall, and pretended to be asleep. The door opened slightly. Zhenya—I recognized her by her walk—stood in the doorway, then came to the bed and sat down beside me. I turned over, as if I had just woken up. Zhenya glanced back at the door, leaned towards me, and quickly kissed me on the lips. Whispered: "Come at night." And then loudly: "Dasha, rise and shine! Lunch is ready."

Zhenya cooked dinner. Near each guest cabin, there were equipped barbecues, firewood prepared—an excellent idea! The shashlik turned out great; it wouldn't take long to gain weight! Over dinner, we decided to eat less calorically in the future, while vigorously discussing the menu for the following days. Swimming, shower, a shot for the night, "Under the blue sky"...

The shot had an emboldening effect on me. I announced that it was now my turn to gossip with Zhenya and went to sleep in Zhenya's room on the spare bed. We talked about something, not even understanding what, just to say something, lying opposite each other, looking into each other's eyes, holding hands. Our fingers seemed to live their own life; they caressed, explored, loved... Tanka, shouting through the wall, "My girls, good night! Everyone to sleep!" turned off the light, and Zhenya and I, no longer afraid of an unexpected visit, lay down together. We immediately embraced; Zhenya's skin turned out to be silky-soft. I wanted to touch and touch her; we couldn't tear ourselves away from each other. Tatyana probably wasn't asleep yet, and we were afraid to make the bed creak unnecessarily. Zhenya kissed me first; her nimble little tongue entered my mouth and began to drive me crazy. We were both shaking, moaning softly. Finally, I felt Zhenya's hand between my legs; I arched my whole body; I was already ready for anything, just so her hand wouldn't stop. If at first I was still embarrassed by the situation, now I didn't care; I shamelessly sprawled on the bed, giving myself completely to Zhenya. She kissed me, leaning on one hand, while the other caressed me. Her fingers did something, penetrated inside, simultaneously stroking my clitoris. Our breasts touched, rubbed against each other. I had no strength left; very little time had passed, and I felt an explosion building inside me. I had never experienced an orgasm like that before. I had to bite into the pillow to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs. Zhenya still didn't remove her hand; everything inside me convulsively contracted; I couldn't stop. In my tightly shut eyes, colorful fireworks sparkled. It seemed the orgasm would never end. Everything I had experienced until now seemed like a pitiful imitation of this madness.

When I finally calmed down, Zhenya still continued to hug me, kissing my lips, my ear, my neck. I felt tears rolling down my face; Zhenya licked them away. I'm not very sentimental, actually, but here I was overcome with a feeling that I had finally found what I had been looking for all my life. A feeling of happiness. I hugged Zhenya, and I didn't want to move. Timidly, I reached my hand down, touched the soft curly hairs. And what to do next? Zhenya, sensing my hesitation, gently removed my hand, whispering: "Not now." And so we fell asleep in each other's arms, and all night in my dream, I ran along a moonlit path, at the end of which Zhenya was waiting for me. And in the dream, I knew that once I reached her, that was all I needed in life.

In the morning, I ran over to the cold, empty bed. My body still shuddered, remembering how it had come. My face was spread in a silly smile. I really wanted to repeat the nighttime madness.

During the day, we decided to go on a little hike. Seven km from the base, there's a small mountain lake surrounded by picturesque cliffs. That's where we decided to go. We took dry rations, a thermos with tea, and cameras. The little trip turned out unexpectedly fun because a group of young guys joined us. These four were from my city; we had mutual acquaintances, and Stasik, the youngest of them, decided to flirt with me. My girls also weren't left without suitors, but attempts to continue the acquaintance with a joint party were unanimously and decisively thwarted by the three of us. Tatyana quite artlessly declared that we all preferred female love, at which I blushed deeply. Zhenya turned away altogether, and Tanka laughed at her invention. The guys looked at us distrustfully but didn't insist. Tanka, Tanka, if only you knew how close to the truth you were!

In the evening, I couldn't figure out what Zhenya and I should do. How to explain the desire to sleep together without arousing Tatyana's suspicions? The solution came unexpectedly easily. Over dinner, Tatyana brought up the issue of my snoring. She said she'd been putting up with my snoring for years, although I'm more than sure it's all her fantasy; no one has ever told me I snore. Pretending to be offended as a joke, I officially moved into Zhenya's room. Our bodies intertwined so easily, as if we had lived together for years. Literally within ten minutes, I was in an explosive state; it seemed I could come at Zhenya's first touch. This time, I more confidently slipped my hand into Zhenya's cherished place. Zhenya was burning all over, she was shaking, it was wet between her legs. She would arch, opening herself to me, then clamp her legs around my hand. At first, I worried that I didn't know what or how to do. But Zhenya herself, with her body and hands, guided my movements, and everything turned out easily. Whimpering, she clamped my hand between her legs so hard it hurt me. Finally, Zhenya relaxed; she lay before me, trembling, with her legs spread apart. With my fingers, I felt the viscous fluid seeping from her little cave. I smelled my fingers. The smell was unfamiliar but not unpleasant.

Probably, from the outside, Zhenya and I looked strange: a feverish gleam in our eyes, constant lack of sleep, a sluggish state. Tatyana kept hinting that Zhenya and I were secretly drinking at night without her, but, thank God, she didn't try to prove it. We would have looked great if she had burst into our room. Naked, in each other's arms!

And so the two crazy weeks we had planned for our lake vacation flew by. I can't remember now what we ate, what we did during the day. I remember we went to the village a few times for groceries, rode a boat on the lake, played volleyball, table tennis, billiards, steamed in the bathhouse... Not to mention the daily swimming. The weather was simply amazing; sometimes I even wished it would rain so we could just crash and sleep. In short, a real, full-fledged vacation. But all of that was like a dream; the real life was at night. Zhenya and I studied each other like children; after all, every woman, if she's not a gynecologist, doesn't see how she's arranged down there. I discovered new erogenous zones in myself. Before, I felt nothing when my back was touched; now, just Zhenya running her gentle hand over my back made me tremble all over. Tenderness—that's the main word in our relationship; that's what, it turns out, I had always lacked in life, neither from my parents nor from men. I reveled in tenderness, I drank it in, and couldn't get enough of it. Never in my life had I come so much, several times every night. I had already gotten used to coming silently, into the pillow, so as not to wake Tatyana. I wanted Zhenya more and more; I craved her shameless, greedy fingers. A real shock for me was when Zhenya caressed me with her little tongue. Men in my life had tried to caress me that way, but it always tickled, stubble got in the way, a man's tongue was rough and overly persistent. Now, I gladly opened myself to Zhenya, anticipating what immense pleasure awaited.

Zhenya and I never talked about the past, the future, we didn't make plans. We hardly talked at all; we simply loved each other. And when we finally realized it was time to part, I was seized by panic, despair, longing. Work awaited me, hard-won and well-paid enough to hold onto. I couldn't drop everything and go eight hundred kilometers away for the person I loved. And Zhenya? At the very beginning, she mentioned a husband in passing, but never spoke on that topic again.

I won't dwell long on the farewell; to say I felt bad is to say nothing. I was simply dying. We couldn't even say goodbye properly, hugging, kissing for real. Tatyana was bustling about, loading things into the cars, cleaning up trash, checking out of the cabin; we seemed to be helping her, but we weren't much use. We just wanted to be near each other, to see each other. That's how I remembered Zhenya: in a white tracksuit, a baseball cap, dark glasses, depressed, with a sad smile. With trembling, slender fingers, she kept pushing back her bangs, but they kept escaping from under the baseball cap. I couldn't stand it, I went over, pushed back her bangs, let my hand linger on her cheek. At least to touch her like that! To breathe in her scent. To look into her eyes. Zhenya pursed her lips, mimicking a kiss. Oh, Tatyana, if you knew you were giving me this bitter happiness, I would have sent you far away with this lake! Better if nothing had ever started!

The whole way to my city, I cried, loudly, sobbing. Thankfully, no one heard me except my little Corolla. I didn't stop by my parents' as usual; I dashed into a store, bought a bottle of cognac, got drunk alone, cried over the photos, and blissfully passed out. I woke up about a day later from an insistent phone call. "Dasha, little one, what's wrong with you, I could barely get through to you!" It was Zhenya. We talked and talked, making up for our silence at the lake; we cried, laughed, sang "Under the blue sky"... The next day, I called the number Zhenya had given me. A man with a pleasant baritone answered. When I gave my name, after a short silence, he said: "Darya, I ask you not to call here again."