A Matter of Principle
I'm a damn grudge-holder. Some might consider it a flaw, but I'm proud of this trait of mine. I never forgive anyone anything. Maybe not right away, maybe after a long time, but I will get my revenge, at a time when it's least expected. No, I'm not a petty bastard who spends a whole year sneaking around and doing dirt for every minor slight. No, I usually settle insults and misunderstandings on the spot, with a fist or a word. But if some individual screws up and doesn't repent, having become utterly convinced of their own invincibility, and I don't have the chance to explain the full depth of their error to them right then and there, that's when my vindictiveness comes into play...
I
fell for her at first sight when she transferred to our group from another faculty in our second year. A fiery-red-haired beauty with the body of a professional volleyball player, she skillfully combined the cheerful, open character of a "tomboy" with femininity and the ability to "present herself." The entire male contingent of our university drooled looking at her mind-blowingly slender legs and the place where they attach to the rest of her equally attractive body. And she seemed not to notice these looks, even though she only had to crook a finger and any university "macho" would have fallen at her feet. Alice, for that was the name of this wonder, maintained friendly relations with many, but reciprocated no one's feelings, although attempts to get her into bed were made regularly.I was never considered a written beauty, but I more than compensated for the lack of perfection in my appearance with a silver tongue and sheer audacity. For three months, I literally bombarded Alice with texts, letters, postcards, flowers, persuading her to go to the movies, to a restaurant, or at least just for a walk in the park. Only twice did she agree: once we went to a rock concert together, and, again, just once, I took her and her friends for a ride on a local lake on a boat I rented. Both times she kept her distance, not allowing the line from friendship to something closer to be crossed, not yielding in any way to all my eloquence, which manifested in a bunch of funny stories, elaborate compliments, and aphorisms. Her friends deserve a special mention: a flock of girls always swirled around Alice, they often changed, but two were with her constantly—Rita and Natasha. They both perfectly fit the definition of "bitch": a contemptuous look, a haughty tone, whispers behind one's back... For the most part, it was precisely the giggles, whisperings, and snide comments of these two "bitches" that shattered my attempts to get closer to Alice.
And suddenly, when I had already despaired and decided to give up on this hopeless endeavor, she unexpectedly agreed to my, already the umpteenth that week, invitation to "sit under a blanket, drink hot mulled wine, and watch another creation of Hollywood film distributors on this dreary autumn evening." To say I was surprised is an understatement. For so long, I had sought her attention with much more sophisticated methods, and here, some invitation to a movie... In the end, I thought that, apparently, I had managed to take this fortress by siege. Probably, I thought, she had finally appreciated my persistence and patience.
And so, the hour arrived. My apartment roommate was sent to stay overnight with a friend, the mulled wine awaited its moment in a thermos, another piece of Hollywood trash was loading online. Alice burst into the apartment in a surprisingly determined mood. I admired her—athletic, toned body, flexible and smooth movements (no wonder she was the captain of the women's volleyball team), a charming face with delicate, aristocratic features, framed by unruly red curls. (etales) She was dressed in jeans that hugged her slender legs like a second skin and a white t-shirt that did nothing to hide her firm, size-three breasts. She immediately rejected all my offers:
"None of that silliness, we both know why I'm here, right, kitty?" — I must say these words threw me off quite a bit. I didn't expect such a sharp transition from "Oh, Slomov, hi" to "Kitty."
"Alice, maybe we should have a little drink first, some mulled wine?" — I didn't let on — "I didn't spend half an hour making it for nothing!"
"Why drag it out?" — the red-haired minx smiled sweetly — "Come on, I'll take a shower, and you wait for me in the little bed, bunny."
She sealed what she said with a hot kiss. I was completely confused, even pinched myself, just in case. With a light, dancing gait, Alice headed towards the bathroom, wiggling her gorgeous ass in a completely lewd manner. "Oh no, Oleg, a chance like this comes once in a lifetime," I said to myself mentally.
I lay on the bed waiting for Alice. The sound of water in the bathroom painted the most enticing pictures in my imagination, my little friend was already awake and fully ready for battle. I could almost feel her flexible body in my hands, the subtle scent of her perfume, her magical, enchanting voice, but what excited me most was the image of her shapely legs over my shoulders... How long can she splash around? Maybe it makes sense to go after her and arrange something interesting in the bathroom? I thought, smiling.
Lost in these thoughts, I didn't notice the suspicious movement in the hallway. When I paid attention to the fact that I was, to put it mildly, not alone in the room, it was too late! Click! With a bright flash, the camera in Alice's hands captured a rather original picture: me, all Apollo-like, twenty years old, in my boxers, lying on a freshly made bed—my eyes wide with utter shock at the situation; and from certain features of my body, it was clear that my thoughts at that moment were not about the cognitive aspects of basic etymology.
"What the fucking hell is going on here?!" — I jumped on the bed from surprise.
"Surprise, kitty!" — this red-haired villainess says to me with a mocking smile, taking a couple more shots of my furious carcass. Behind her stand Rita and Natasha, smiling no less mockingly.
"What the fuck kind of surprise?! What's happening here?!" — I yelled, standing before the girls in just my boxers.
"Kitty, don't get so upset, it wouldn't have worked out between us anyway!" — Alice purred, her eyes laughing — "Sorry, but I like girls more than boys." — to confirm her words, she gave Rita a juicy, deep kiss.
At the sight of two passionately kissing lesbians, my dick just turned to stone. Seeing this, Natasha laughed and made a gesture offensive to any man, hinting at the unimpressive size of the reproductive organ. I don't know in which universe 18 cm is small, maybe only in German films about big, pure love, whose heroes are capable of felling forests and driving piles with their equipment; it was probably on knowledge of these films that Natasha's ideas about proper sizes were based.
Meanwhile, Alice released Rita from the sweet prison of her lips and looked at me questioningly.
"No, well, with you it's all clear, victims of the pink pit, but couldn't you have said it like a human being? Did you have to put on this circus?" — I began to boil.
"You see, bunny, if I had just said that boys don't interest me, there would be those who wouldn't believe me and would continue all these ritual mating dances, and do I need that?" — said the redhead, insanely sexily licking her full lips — "This way, I clearly showed what awaits every 'macho' like you."
"Oh, is that so..." — I got seriously angry — "You'll still spread your legs yourself and ask me to put it in, you mangy cat!"
"Oh, Olezka, you're so self-confident! Right, girls?" — the girls giggled obligingly in support of their leader. — "I'm willing to bet three stipends that won't happen!"
Natasha and Rita giggled again, appreciating the boss's joke.
"Give me that camera, you hetaeras!" — I lunged at them, but the villains were more agile and bolted out of the apartment. Chasing girls in my boxers through autumn puddles seemed an unacceptable option for me.
The next day, my photos with the caption "This doesn't turn me on" next to photos of Rita, who was posing
in the sexiest positions, with the caption "But this does. Alice.", were plastered all over the university and posted online. The male contingent appreciated the redhead's stunt—all sorts of advances towards her stopped. I had to endure several humiliating days until I turned the situation around, shifting the attitude of most students towards me from mockery to sympathy and male solidarity.
* * *
Two years had passed since then. In that time, anyone else would have either taken revenge or come to terms with it, but not me. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Whoever said that was damn right. All this time, for two whole years, I actively prepared for revenge. Definitely, all the rams in the world combined could envy my stubbornness. For half a year, I waited—time had to pass for the victim to let her guard down. But while waiting, I wasn't idle; I prepared my weapon—gathered information, made adjustments to the plan, prepared the ground.
My first strike was at her circle: carefully, through third parties, I introduced Rita to Alexey. Alexey was, from all sides, the perfect option for Rita; I made sure of that. After a couple of months, Rita broke off her relationship with Alice and moved in with Lyokha. Luckily, she wasn't a fanatical lesbian, just bi. With Natasha, it was more difficult; this individual practically worshipped Alice, considering her her idol. But she had a weak spot too—her parents. A family of hereditary Kuban Cossacks quite accidentally found out that their little daughter, to put it mildly, did not share their views on traditional family values. Just three days after receiving the joyful news, a delegation consisting of her two brothers and father came for Natalia. The delegates did not share their relative's views on free love, openly spat on the rights of sexual minorities, and remained deaf to pleas and requests. I never saw Natalia again.
Alice, having lost her faithful comrades and lovers, became frankly gloomy, which, however, didn't stop her from brushing off the newly activated "machos" by inertia. And that's when I enter the stage! But not on a white horse with a bouquet of red roses in my teeth, which would have been stupid at the very least, but quietly and calmly... yet decisively. Once at a student party, where I ended up completely "by chance" (though in reality, I organized that party), when everyone, including Alice, was already seriously drunk, our reconciliation took place, where I spoke in the vein of "Come on, so much time has passed," "Yes, I'm really not offended anymore, what are you talking about!" "And I was to blame myself" (in any argument with girls, the main thing is to admit your guilt, regardless of whether it exists or not). Well, we sort of made up and forgot; I didn't impose myself but, on the contrary, lay low for a while. The main thing for me was to change my status in her eyes from "mortally offended" to neutral. Then, stroke by stroke, I began to paint the image of the "good guy": somewhere I spoke up in her support, somewhere I casually helped with studies, somewhere I showed myself in a positive light in her presence...
As psychologists say, "People tend to develop emotional attachments to those with whom they have shared a stressful situation, whether negative or positive." And Alice and I had quite a situation, so gradually, as if on its own, I moved into the category of her buddies, of which there weren't many among men. The closer I got to her, the harder it became, the higher the price of a mistake. A few "buddy" heart-to-hearts and she realized we had similar interests; a few hangouts in a large group and she realized I was fun and energetic, and she valued that in people (who knew what it cost me to jump around like a grasshopper all evening). I helped her through several difficult situations in her life (some of which didn't even arise from my activities, honestly!). After some time, Alice suddenly realized that she and I had been through a lot together, and that stupid situation between us in our second year was even a plus for me, since I wasn't offended at all but, on the contrary, understood everything correctly and forgave her! So, in about a year and a half, I went from open confrontation to "Oh, Olezka, where were you? You're such a swine, I almost died of boredom in that class, we agreed to listen to music together in the back row! By the way, what are we getting Olya for her birthday?"
Yes, now I was officially her best friend. The home stretch, as they say. After all, there's a wise saying for a reason: "Friendship between a man and a woman is only possible in two cases: when these two have already had everything, or when everything is still to come." Alice even asked for my forgiveness for that very stunt, officially, and I "forgave" her... as a friend. From that moment, the most difficult part began. Our conversations became longer and more heartfelt; once I managed to find out why she had taken the "path of the Amazons"—nothing, by the way, super unusual in that story, but I'd have been better off not knowing; a primitive disappointment in her first partner: instead of silk sheets and a canopy bed—a bench on the sports ground; instead of a beautiful prince—a tipsy high school senior with a perverted imagination and boorish manners, who also managed to throw up during the process. And all this against the backdrop of a father who abandoned them when Alice was six. I didn't want to pry into her soul; I just wanted revenge, but things had already gone too far. I understood I was acting like the lowest scum, but I couldn't help myself; I am who I am, and my vengefulness is one of the foundations of my personality. I stroked her head, comforted her, and she moistened my shoulder with her tears. This revelation was hard on both of us. I clearly understood I had passed the point of no return.
Filled with determination, I proceeded to the final stage of Operation "Revenge." A couple of trips to the movies where I sort of accidentally stroked her hand, a couple of greeting kisses that were a bit more than friendly... The main thing was to balance on the edge of building an intimate atmosphere, which, combined with her prolonged abstinence, should have had an excellent effect, and absolute "non-harassment," meaning I gave no hints that I wanted to get her into bed, although I really wanted to. The result of my activities was this very evening.
We were sitting at Alice's place, initially a large group—drinking wine, singing to the guitar, playing all sorts of nonsense... Then people started heading home, and the redhead and I were left alone... We started clearing the table, washing dishes... A few careless collisions in the narrow hallway, "accidental" glances, she bit her lip... The trigger was Alice, whose hands were apparently shaking, dropping a half-empty bottle of wine. We both rushed to pick it up... and then we had no time for the bottle.
Like two madmen, we threw ourselves at each other, and her lips found mine. That long, passionate kiss told me a lot. She literally started tearing my clothes off, and I didn't lag behind. Her strong, slender body trembled under my hands. We fell onto the bed rather than lay down. In the light of the lamp that had fallen on the floor, I saw her perfect forms, her eyes burning with passion, her fantastically sexy legs, for the mere chance to touch which many of my acquaintances would have bitten off their own hand without a second thought.
"Please... Ah..." — my hands wandered over her body, periodically straying into very tender places — "Please... Olezka... My dear, good one... Please, do it gently."
I heeded her request and began covering every centimeter of this red-haired nymph's body with kisses: the inner side of her thighs, her pubis, the tender hollow of her navel, her stomach—each of my kisses made her shudder and moan softly, while my hands continued to massage her heated body. She wrapped her arms around my head and arched like a bow... I rose higher and higher, there the valley between magnificent breasts, the tender neck with a rapidly pulsing vein, an ear,