The Adventures of the Young and Beautiful Marquise – or Tanechka, Up to Her Ears in the Rye of Sinful Impulses. Act 1.

ACT ONE

"On How Snowdrops Bloom in Early Spring"

Is grace wondrous? Judge for yourselves, good people: no matter how much you wield your pen, smearing whole barrels of ink across kilometers of freshly made paper, no matter how much you tap on keyboard keys, and no matter how many numerous epithets and adverbial phrases you select, or how many abstruse and scholarly books you leaf through, the whims of humanity will remain a secret, resting beneath the foliage, hidden and gnawed upon by the aforementioned "mentions." Well, or as whims... for some people, these are not whims at all. It is not so much the meaning of life for them, but rather a reproach – for not

everyone is granted such a special gift, bestowed by Mother Earth upon the chosen ones – and for this reason, they may feel somewhat alienated in a society of ordinary bio-suits in those primordial instances when their true natural quality is decisively rejected, either due to squeamishness, shyness, or ignorance, by those who dare call themselves human. But what if these, let's say, whims somehow magically benefit humankind? And in general – what kind of whims can be considered useful in this or that historical period? Take, for example, reactionaries or anarchists – who are they in the modern era of somewhat, cautiously scribbling with a pencil the following, hasty technological progress and militant statism marching across rivers and forests? Perhaps, saviors of the blue orb? Or zealous arsonists of a world conflagration? And who are nymphomaniacs? However, please consider in your reflections that the author does not use the term "nymphomania" in its true medical sense: your humble servant implies the attainment of orgasm by these fair members of the female sex through sexual intercourse or masturbation – and this, it seems, is important even in the matter of a kind of sexual altruism, for any such sexual activity holds within it something more than the mere ejaculation onto/into the body of such a generous madam – she herself must achieve nirvana in order to clearly demonstrate to her partner all the depths of masculine impulses, thereby affirming in his mind faith in his own strength. And so, ponder, who are they – the true keepers of the torch of Eros? Or, therefore, on the contrary – the perpetrators of the most vile and dishonorable human fall from grace? The devil himself would break a leg trying to figure it out, for each individual thinking person, when faced with this question, will likely think from the height of their own bell tower.

However, the above will not cancel this fact with any absurd confusion: it is now June outside – and a hot, long-awaited summer amidst the thorns of the shifting work-study routine. Nor will it cancel that circumstance which points to the morning dawn. Or the presence of a somewhat lonely house in the middle of a rural area endowed by God with paradisiacal beauty. Also, every scoundrel must come to terms with the fact that this house has a brick chimney, wooden doors, hospitable steps leading to them, or sleepy windows. Let's linger a little longer at the windows, or rather near one of them. I think our inexperienced friend has already guessed the reason – although even without that, our treacherous penetration, hop-skip across rocky Europes onto this backyard plot overgrown with all sorts of greenery, is a fairly obvious fact, accomplished under the influence of such otherworldly impulses. We both came here not to stuff our metaphysical and transcendental bellies, which were by no means invulnerable to the bullets of life's troubles, with just an encircling fog and the chirping of hot birds – we are here for something greater... Peek into this dilapidated window, dear brother. Do you see the old Soviet white tulle? And the beige curtains, which, if not more, evoke the former hum of Brezhnev-era sewing machines? And the ensemble of purple, red, and yellow flowers, the clay pots beneath it?... Although it seems all this splendor will close like a curtain the view of that very secret, for the contemplation of which we are violating all sorts of established norms of decency. But, fortunately for our immoderate curiosity, this observation will not withstand any criticism due to the presence of a small gap – that part of the window which, due to the annoyingly insufficient length of Soviet curtains for such a wide glazed opening, was not covered. Let's look into it, quickly!

This house, located on the outskirts of a rather small rural street, holds something more piquant and worthy of attention than the already quite tiresome remoteness of the surrounding pines and birches. The house – is this very Cosmos, and the window – its relay, which allows a view of the pearl across many light-years – eighteen-year-old Tanechka sleeping on a single bed. She was dreaming of a funny man with a good ending, for her kind face, lightly sprinkled with freckles, expressed pure satisfaction, manifested in the presence of a radiant little smile on it, emphasizing the dimples on her slightly plump cheeks. Tanechka lay on her back, completely covered by a white light duvet cover. In fact, all her bed linen present on the sleeping couch was white: the pillowcases, the sheet, and the downy blanket carefully set aside until autumn. Together with the rays of the morning dawn seeping through the curtains and tulle, it created the effect of a pretty, long-haired, fair-haired beauty lying on a heavenly cloud. In the sunlit gap, one could also make out her forehead and a neat little nose...

Tanechka arrived here recently. She is a first-year student of the philological faculty, having successfully passed her second university session with "excellent" grades. I, of course, no longer recall the specific name of her major, but I can vouch and pledge my soul that she is studying to be a literary scholar with a parallel in-depth study of the English language. Our Tanechka is smart, however, deeply disliking and despising city life – and, accordingly, because of this, not working at such an ordinary job, which caused some disputes with her parents, who wished to see their daughter in the harness of labor from a very young age. Only the occasionally breached pity of her parents through the steel bottom of indifference and a paltry so-called "increased" scholarship for her special academic achievements helped her stay afloat. I can also recall as auxiliary factors for the survival of this immaculate flower in the wild world of peripheral capitalism the proximity, within walking distance, of the dormitory to the university building – resulting in no need to pay for public transport, and her rather modest, bordering on ascetic, lifestyle. But what Tanechka loved most besides studying and nature was also drawing. She was quite good at painting with oils – some she even managed to sell for decent money by the standards of her small pocket. Mainly, the young artist painted colorful landscapes and portraits from life (more often her classmates acted as models – boys, on the contrary, were only occasional), but there were also very interesting pictorial overtures – on one canvas, the efforts of a fragile brush depicted vaginal sex between a certain young maiden of about Tanya's age and... an elderly, it seems, hunter or forester in a pine forest. This coitus was deliberately described from an expressive side: Tanechka tried to express through expressive facial expressions and poses the voluptuousness with which these two bodies indulged in such a, seemingly, unusual place. Overall, the work of our young mischief-maker in terms of used shades resembled Shishkin's painting "Morning in a Pine Forest." And in general, if you closed your eyes to the indecency happening in the center of the picture, it resembled a parody of it – perhaps Tanechka implied some allusion?... A strange circumstance in this story of the young nymphet Tanechka is that she was at home alone. There is an explanation for this: although this house belonged to Tanechka's parents, due to their constant work commitments, they could not visit it together with their own daughter – and therefore remained in the city. Tanechka, who was city-born, as is customary for capital dwellers, grew tired of all these concrete jungles – hence, for her summer holidays, which began in the early days of June, to the surprise of her city friends and relatives, she asked to go to her parents' dacha in a village, which was not at all close to the capital of our People's State. No one here even knew her, for she had never been there before.

Meanwhile, in the window, we can observe a truly stunning sight: the young body, saturated with the falling rays of the morning sun, began to awaken. This beautiful flower, in the course of its awakening, began not at all from the opening of its little eyes – what began to creep up were not the eyelids, but the little white duvet cover, thereby exposing the beautiful, shining legs of the awakening snowdrop. First, slightly trembling feet were exposed. Then, little by little, the smooth-as-velvet calves shed their covering veil... Tanechka unfolded more and more, gradually, like a true plant awakened from winter hibernation. She was in no hurry to wake up, for in her reserve – the eternity of a whole day and complete freedom of action... Yawning sweetly, the vulgar girl lazily turned onto her side, facing the wall. But the duvet cover no longer hid what we could not see before with our own eyes: the young creation of God demonstrated to us a completely beautiful straight back – and, most interestingly, without any signs of bra straps on it... Tanechka was clearly dozing without a bra. But that's not all: the curious observer, shifting their gaze a little to the right, was rewarded with an even more piquant sight: a juicy and firm butt, like a fruit grown in the Garden of Eden under the careful guidance of the Lord Himself, demonstrated across all its enticing curves, appetizing convexities, and mysterious concavities the same absence of any fabric encircling the body. Mischievous Tanechka... she not only doesn't care for a bra, but also panties! Wriggling her legs a little under the duvet cover barely concealing her beautiful body, Tanechka returned to her original position – on her back, immediately tossing this now unnecessary rag aside. The stunning sight was completed by the contemplation of ripe, full breasts, which, despite the young age of their owner, had already managed to mature and emphasize the true sexual attraction of their possessor. Already habitually shifting our gaze to the right, a view of the girl's flat tummy opened up to us, and beyond it was what seemed to be, for someone or a special occasion, a smoothly shaved maiden's pussy, cared for with no small amount of attention.

Tanechka, finally opening her sleepy eyes, bloomed like a snowdrop in early spring. With her right palm, she stroked her tender tummy. Stroked lower and lower until she reached her most intimate part with it. The nipples on her breasts stood up invitingly, finally awakening the young madam. Goosebumps ran across the lily-white maiden skin... It seems that another voluptuous sight will appear before us: the maiden's hand, rhythmically fidgeting before our eyes there – at the very treasure trove, was doing something wonderful, causing the young body to arch figuratively and emit sweet, muffled moans. The girl's left hand roughly kneaded her left breast, bringing it to some overly expressive redness. We saw the process of how thin and fragile fingers, methodically stimulating the still untouched-by-anyone-except-its-owner neat clitoris, brought this beautiful young body to such somersaults, such jumps... This was her time of pleasure – her face became like a mirror of those cats and mice tormenting her from within, making her shrink, twitch, blush, and breathe heavily. Finally, the girl grew tired of this boring masturbation – clutching the tip of the downy blanket, she impaled herself on it with that very place like a predator with an open maw onto an exhausted victim, beginning with rhythmic movements of her pelvis to methodically push the fabric of the little blanket into herself. The fish jumped, and the rye swayed – neither white nor red frost will stop them!

A furious, as if a thunderstorm had descended upon the bed, deafening cry of a crying reverend nymph in the desert resounded... and Tanechka, finally, experienced the purest orgasm her young body allowed. This was the finale of those sensations and impulses that she could not reveal at her native department. Nor in the dormitory. Nor in her father's apartment. Nor among the shelves of a bustling supermarket. This was that very frantic flock, asking its owner for permission to "come out"...

Collecting her thoughts, Tanechka moved away from her previous sensations, got up from the bed, gathered her long, fair hair into a bun and, laughing, briskly jumped from the bed to the wardrobe. In a second, as if at the snap of a finger and by the command of a sorcerer, the young servant of pleasure found herself in a robe. Twirled her butt in front of the mirror, made faces... and left her bedroom, dancing, somewhere deeper into her ivory tower. What was left for us to do? Only to leave this place of cosmic launch by the same path we came... We received even more than we asked of the Almighty, going about our own business and reflecting on the occurred descent of the heavenly angel.