The Professor's Confession
(a story recorded in carriage No. 9, of the Vladivostok–Moscow express train).
"As you wish, my friends, but each of us (no offense!) is, to one degree or another, a pervert!" — thoughtfully uttered "Baldy" — a large man of powerful build with a completely hairless head and lush, graying mustaches.
Holding an empty glass in his large palms, which looked like a shot glass in them, he, having listened along with everyone to "Shnyr's" tall tale, laughed sadly and now, swaying his shiny head in time with the train's motion. His quiet remark was heard by all. The laughter somehow immediately died down, and those present turned to "Baldy". "Karas" with a serious face,
asked, scratching the back of his head worriedly."What are you on about? Do you really think everyone's a pervert, or did you just blurt it out for effect, huh, 'Professor'? Forgive me, of course, but why insult everyone like that? You might be too learned for our simple company, but we're 'not just simpletons' either! I, for example, don't consider myself or 'Shnyr', who screwed a goat, to be perverts. Right, guys?" — he turned to his crew.
"Well, it depends on how you look at it, you see," — "Kuzmich", the eldest in age among the crew of fishermen, replied in a conciliatory tone.
"Baldy" had only gotten acquainted with this company of simple, "plain as day" guys because, as always, he had to "procure" a ticket from Khabarovsk to Moscow, wrestle it out by force: threaten and grovel; puff up importantly or humbly hand the ticket clerk a chocolate with rum. And so he ended up, as he wanted, in a compartment car of the Vladivostok–Moscow train, where he was immediately nicknamed "Baldy" or "Professor" by the fishermen, drunk as skunks, cheerful, returning home after the fishing season.
"It means, you see," — Kuzmich continued reasoning with a slurring tongue, — "well, it's not really a swear word! For them," — he jerked his head towards "Baldy", — "for the learned ones, it's not a swear word at all. There!" — he solemnly concluded his speech, proudly surveying the hushed crew with a bleary look.
He fell silent in the ensuing quiet, thoughtfully chewed his lips, and raised his eyes to "Baldy".
"Am I right, dear man? Or am I mistaken?" — Kuzmich looked around the company again, adding, — "maybe something happened in the man's life? And you get offended right away. Instead of asking him to explain properly: what and how? Listen, 'Professor', won't you share your thoughts with us? We're tired of listening to 'Shnyr's' tall tales! All you hear is: stuck it in, pulled it out, rammed it home, and she sucked it off!"
"And really, 'Professor', tell us some story too," — patted his fellow traveler on the knee the huge "Abrek" — a "person of Caucasian nationality", who had somehow ended up in the crew of fishermen, — "and explain at the same time — why you think all people are perverts."
Everyone started talking at once, perked up. Some poured vodka into glasses, some lit a cigarette, and "Tyukha" and "Matyukha" on the upper bunks almost got into a fight, starting to argue about how to perceive "Pervert" in relation to themselves. The "Professor" tried to answer, but no one heard him in the general uproar, until "Karas" roared in a chieftain's voice: "Shut it!"
"Listen, guys, I think we should listen to a smart man! When else will you get to chat with a candidate of sciences like this, casually, in person, so to speak?! Anyone not interested, I ask you to leave! The dining car is already open! And for those who want to sleep — there's room in other compartments. 'Abrek', why aren't you keeping order?"
Everyone fell silent instantly, knowing perfectly well the characters of their chieftain and his "deputy for political and educational work". Voices rang out: "What, us? We don't mind at all. Let him speak! It's even interesting."
"Well, 'Professor'? The audience is ready. We'll set up a lectern for you in a moment," — said "Karas", placing a small suitcase on "Baldy's" knees and placing a glass of vodka and a plastic plate with simple snacks on top, — "begin!"
"Well, what is there to tell?" — he muttered in response, confused, taking off his glasses, wiping them, and squinting nearsightedly at his interlocutor.
"Whatever you want! Whatever you find interesting, maestro. Well, first of all, of course, about human depravity and perversion!" — Smiling, replied "Karas", who, obviously, had not always been a simple fisherman.
"Honestly, I don't even know," — "Baldy" muttered again, putting on his glasses and rubbing his high forehead, — "unless..."
"Don't fret, dear man," — Kuzmich encouraged him, — "confess to simple folk! It'll make you feel better. I sense you're plagued by some doubts, things you can only tell strangers..."
"Doubts. Strangers," — uttered "Baldy", taking the glass in his hand, — "well, you're right, Kuzmich!" — He downed the contents of the glass in one gulp, causing a surprised murmur from the audience, — "I'll tell you! Everything that has tormented and torments me, I'll tell you! But," — he raised his hand with the empty glass, sticking out his index finger, — "on one condition!"
Surveying all those present with clear eyes, "Baldy" smirked.
"Firstly: I ask everyone to take my word that everything I tell you is the absolute truth, although, I admit, it very much resembles 'not at all science fiction'! Those specific events I've decided to tell you about, friends, even have a whiff of mysticism. Let each of you judge for himself whether these are symptoms of delirium tremens, interference from supernatural forces, or an outright fabrication! After I finish my story, each of you, in turn, will give me and my behavior an assessment with complete frankness! Using foul language, not holding back, not mincing words. I won't be offended by anything! On the contrary, I'll gladly listen to each one, to make a decision. A decision about how to behave further with my unexpected love, which struck me at forty-five, with my happiness and misfortune, with my pride and shame..."
The audience was silent, captivated by such an introduction. Only Kuzmich, clinking a bottle, poured a new round into the emptied glasses.
"So," — began "Baldy" or "Professor", as you prefer...
***
"So, once upon a time there lived an ordinary teenager..."
I was born into an ordinary Soviet family, of which there were hundreds of thousands in our country. It was neither poor nor rich, neither academic nor uneducated. Mother, father, me — the eldest child and two little sisters, a year apart, Masha and Katya. Well, everything as usual. School, there, Little Octobrists-Pioneers, and later Komsomol members. Sports, various clubs, pioneer camps... Yes... And in the year I turned 18, our father suddenly left us. Left quietly, without scandals (at least, my sisters and I didn't see any). Left and that's it! For another year or so we saw him in our town with a young blonde — happy and rejuvenated — looking like a youth. And our mother, on the contrary, began to look several years older. Of course, both mother and my sisters were upset, but I suffered the most, it seemed to me. Probably, it was then that a special attitude towards the female sex appeared in me — I absolutely had to feel sorry for every girl, young woman, woman. Sincerely, I assure you. Well, anyway! In short, a year later father disappeared from our lives completely, together with his blonde. To this day I don't know what became of him, where he is, or if he's even alive. Squeaking, with difficulty, to be honest, we continued to live. Well, naturally, everything went along the well-trodden, ordinary track for millions! Finished school. Enrolled in the correspondence department of a technical institute, and went to work at a factory, to somehow support mother and my sisters. Then the army. Here I was unlucky! I ended up in the first wave in Afghanistan and couldn't demobilize on time in that chaos. Served a whole extra year!
Eh, I'm talking about all the wrong things. Why the hell do you need my biography?! In short, my sisters got married and moved away in different directions, and mother... we soon buried. Yes... she couldn't take it! As soon as she 'got us on our feet', she quietly left.
Well, and I lived by myself. Worked at the same factory as a foreman, then an engineer, later became chief engineer. Everything seemed normal. Only one thing was missing for me — a stable connection with some woman. Moreover, I wanted to find one who would be only mine and, at the same time, I would remain independent. I know it doesn't work that way, but I'm telling you what I really felt. In terms of sex, I remained eternally unsatisfied. — The storyteller snorted and glanced towards "Shnyr", — "I live in a city, there's no place to keep a goat, that is! — Well, you drag someone home after some party, well, you fuck her — let off steam, so to speak, and in the morning you wait — can't wait for her to clear off as soon as possible. There were times when I went weeks without a woman and was climbing the walls with desire. Well, I managed on my own, of course. I had a mass of videocassettes and other 'devices' for having sex all by myself! And, I confess to you, not a single woman of those who were with me satisfied my desires! As soon as I tried to approach some fantasy of mine, each of them would start acting up: 'What are you doing?!' 'How could you think such a thing about me?!' 'What do you think you're doing?!'. Well, in short, from the series: 'I'm not that kind of girl!'. I think any man is familiar and close to this!
Here I want to stop at the 'perversions' that caused a heated debate among our company. And, as Kuzmich correctly noted, the main thing is — what to call a perversion! I want to ask questions that don't require an answer! Which of those present never wanted to get into a woman's anus?! Which of those present never once in their life wanted to fuck a boy?! Which of you never dreamed of fucking a young girl in all holes, if it weren't for the law?! And I'm not talking about violence! There are enough 'voluntary', so to speak, young girls for that occasion! And, besides, I always wanted to try a woman 'for taste'! And not once! You understand, not once could I do this with my partners: either due to squeamishness, or because of fear of the unreliability of women's tongues. I remember how one guy in our brigade was contemptuously called behind his back a 'cuntsucker' because he knew how to please a woman! Just imagine: 'cuntsucker'! So, 'cocksucker' is normal, natural, so to speak, but 'cuntsucker' — a perversion?! Sometimes, it's better to kiss a cunt, excuse me, than someone's lips! At least it's more pleasant and, moreover, more hygienic, because a normal woman more often keeps her genitals cleaner than her oral cavity. And, besides, when kissing a woman on the lips, who can guarantee that there, as in the vagina, someone's dick hasn't just been, and maybe not clean at all?! That's how it is. And, as for me, I dreamed and saw in my dreams how I love endlessly with carnal love some little girl, kissing her until she faints in all imaginable places! How I caress her, kiss her, lick her, touch her, doing everything that comes to mind for me and her, my imaginary partner, my phantom mistress...
In short, I started taking 'sedatives' more and more often and in larger doses. Drinking vodka without snacks — disgusting! But, drinking vodka alone — is scary. I stopped sleeping normally. In my opinion, I stopped sleeping altogether! A heavy drowsiness would come over me after a couple of glasses, accompanied by strange and, sometimes, terrible dreams!
I confess to you with some shame that I started to sink, or rather, it seemed to me that I had sunk. Not having the opportunity to 'let loose' in sex and not feeling much desire to communicate with women for the reason already stated earlier, I started drinking openly and a lot! Moreover, unlike my drinking buddies, I didn't get drunk at all, pouring huge amounts of alcohol into myself. That is, of course, the body reacted to the libations! I, like everyone, lost orientation in movements, swayed, vomited, suffered from hangovers and all that. But my brain refused to get foggy! My consciousness remained clear always. And if it weren't for this circumstance, I would have been fired from work long ago, where they were already looking rather askance at the eternally hungover chief mechanic. But, whatever question or task the management put before me, with the smell of booze or not, hungover or not, I carried out the instructions on time and, without false modesty I'll add, carried them out brilliantly! So they tolerated me, thank them, only making remarks about my appearance, so to speak...
***
"Baldy" fell silent for a while, staring thoughtfully at one point. Then, perking up, he held out his glass to the cupbearer.
"Pour me another, Kuzmich! I'll have one more, maybe it'll loosen my tongue, because, I feel, my audience is getting gloomy. They want 'juicy bits', like in 'Shnyr's' tales, and here I am spreading snot, pushing 'life's troubles' on them. But never mind! You'll get your juicy bits! With raspberries! Because there is no greater happiness in this life than 'uninhibited sex', which is rightfully called love! Even with the addition: 'carnal', but I think that without it, this very carnal love, the concept of Love doesn't exist at all!"
"Drink, dear man, drink and tell us more," — said the moved Kuzmich, — "I, my dear, in your story, I swear, sometimes see myself!"
"Don't you worry about us, 'Professor', just tell it," — "Tyukha" spoke from above, — "I, for example, feel like I'm in a theater and everything you're telling is right before my eyes!"
"You should write a book!" — "Abrek" with a serious face slashed the air with his huge palm, — "if you need money for the printing house, our whole crew will be your sponsor! Right, I'm saying, guys?!" — he looked around the brigade.
From all sides came exclamations:
"No doubt!"
"Of course!"
"Will our names be in it?"
"Thank you, friends," — "Professor" replied, moved, — "but I wouldn't dare tell my story to anyone. That is, except you, of course. Kuzmich said it right! I would never have told even you in my life if I weren't sure I'd never meet you again! For some reason I'm ashamed to share this with acquaintances. Or maybe my acquaintances are like that, I don't know. Well, let's!"
He raised his glass and touched the glasses of "Karas", Kuzmich, and "Abrek".
"Karas", who had been silent until now, raised his eyes to the professor.
"Go on, dear! Don't drag it out! I want to hear about the redhead!"
They drank and the "Professor", smiling his sad smile again, continued:
"Yes. That evening I was returning home in the early morning..."
***
"That evening I was returning home in the early morning, when the first technical trams rattled along the rails. Tracing pretzels with my feet, cursing myself for my clearly working brain, I couldn't make myself walk straight, not swaying from side to side