Rivals

Lieutenant Nikolai Zarubin was assigned as the ship's duty officer for the New Year's watch. It was a naval tradition to assign the most deserving officers to watch on such important days. And Zarubin, who had recently graduated from the Naval Institute, was precisely among that category of ship's officers. Although the lieutenant desperately wanted to celebrate the New Year with his friends, who had been calling him non-stop with invitations, his pride in the command's trust—that he, and no one else, was entrusted with this responsible watch—outweighed his sadness over the missed celebration.

On the ship that evening, it was

unusually quiet. The personnel had left for the club for a festive concert, the watch proceeded calmly without unnecessary phone calls or sudden orders. Apparently, the ship's command, like the brigade command, were exhausted from issuing countless directives and were themselves preparing to settle in more cozily at the holiday table.

In the duty room, the clock ticked peacefully; the lieutenant carefully reviewed the log of incoming telephone messages, checking their delivery to the executors and the adherence to reporting deadlines, while his assistant, a rosy-cheeked midshipman, lazily skimmed the pages of the festive issue of the fleet newspaper.

 — "And how did I manage to 'get stuck' with the holiday watch," lamented the midshipman, who, like the lieutenant, was gnawed by longing for the shore.

 — "You're the best boatswain in the brigade, that's why they stuck you here," Zarubin said sarcastically.

 — "And you, Comrade Lieutenant, are the best of all the ship's combat unit commanders," the midshipman retorted.

 — "That's why we're on watch together. Top performers! The road is open for us everywhere, and the command always gets credit for us," concluded the lieutenant.

Zarubin lit a cigarette, and at that moment the phone rang. The midshipman picked up the receiver and handed it to the officer. The assistant duty officer at the brigade's checkpoint was inviting the ship's duty officer to the gatehouse. — "Someone's here to see you," he said.

 — "Who?" — the lieutenant asked again.

 — "Come and find out," — the assistant answered mysteriously and hung up.

 — "A new order?" — the midshipman asked with a smirk.

 — "Looks like it. Probably another even more valuable instruction from the brigade commander on maintaining order during the holiday," — Zarubin replied casually and, leaving his assistant in charge, left the duty room. It was cool outside. White snowflakes swirled and settled on the deck of the patrol ship. The lieutenant glanced at his watch. There was just over an hour left until the New Year's chimes. He walked leisurely towards the gatehouse, wondering who could be visiting him at such a late hour. At the checkpoint, he approached the assistant duty officer, saluting smartly:

 — "Lieutenant Zarubin…"

The other man casually nodded towards the gatehouse door in response.

The officer stepped outside and saw a familiar Zhiguli. At the wheel sat his colleague from a neighboring ship, Senior Lieutenant Lakhnovsky. And next to him?..

"No! It can't be! Is it really her?!" — the lieutenant couldn't believe his eyes and moved closer to the car. And then he saw that sitting next to his friend was Lakhnovsky's sister, the alluring Victoria, or simply Vika. This was the girl he had long loved, but without reciprocation.

… They had met when he was still in his first year. He liked her immediately. A lively first-year student from the foreign language institute, chattering away freely in English. Nikolai tried to court her, but the proud admiral's daughter only mockingly batted her blue eyes at him and turned all his efforts into a joke. As soon as he tried to confess his feelings directly to her in his second year, the teaser started making faces at him and, placing her little finger on the tip of his nose, began to mimic:

 — "Now, now, sweetie. You haven't reached that line yet to be called a husband…"

Her unserious attitude, as he saw it, threw him off balance. Usually calm and composed, he would immediately explode, calling her a frivolous girl, pushing away her "motherly" hand, and sulkily pursing his full lips. This childish anger amused her even more, and she, stroking his head, tried to temper his ardor. This continued until his third year, when he bumped into a tall, broad-shouldered guy in the doorway of the Lakhnovskys' apartment. A Caucasian-type face, thin mustache, agate eyes with a slight hint of moisture were very attractive. The guy's powerful figure, clad in fashionable leather, clearly outshone the skinny cadet with three "chevrons" on his sleeve. It was plain to see that "Katsa" (as Nikolai privately nicknamed the guy) belonged to the "tough guy" category. A large gold ring on his index finger, a massive gold chain on his thick, short neck, a haughty, contemptuous gaze that indifferently slid over the cadet's unremarkable figure, not even deigning to pay him any attention, drove the jealous cadet mad. The cadet understood that compared to such a prominent suitor, stuffed with "bucks," he was clearly losing, and the Georgian, with his whole demeanor, showed that this pathetic little cadet was no competition for him at all. To cap off this confrontation, the Caucasian's black, expensive Mercedes finished off the poor cadet, sending him into a complete knockout. Nikolai hated his rival, seeing how he sat languidly behind the wheel of his "wheels" and looked down arrogantly at the world around him with the eyes of a true master of life. Sometimes, when Vika was sitting next to him, he would deliberately run a red light, and if a cop stopped him, "Katsa," without looking up, would casually hand him a hundred-dollar bill. The cop would snap to attention, salute him, and "Katsa," with a crooked smile, would hit the gas. Such blows to a girl's psyche did not go unnoticed, and the impressionable student felt that next to her sat a real "dzhigit," behind whose back she would be, as if behind a stone wall. The cadet, seeing his beloved's attraction to the rich man, finally understood that with such odds, he would never win Victoria over and, throwing caution to the wind, plunged into his studies. Only science did not betray him and yielded easily, willingly revealing its secrets to him.

Days ran one after another, and finally, the time came when his "chevrons" on the sleeve turned into lieutenant's shoulder boards. The stars were small and only two, but they were no less desired for it. He had worked towards them for five whole years, desperately "gnawing" the granite of science and mastering the mysteries of naval service. This did not come to him by itself, as it did for some who inherit a substantial fortune from the sky, but was earned by his own hard work, which made it doubly valuable. Now Zarubin did not look so deficient compared to the smug Caucasian. Having matured, in a well-tailored military uniform, he looked much more attractive than in his old, rather worn cadet overcoat. And if you also considered his extraordinary zeal in service, then a decent career lay ahead for the young lieutenant.

"Perhaps it is I who will take his place in the future," thought Zarubin, admiringly watching the ship's commander's actions on the navigation bridge. "If I act according to the rule: 'Patience and hard work will grind everything down,' then I shouldn't linger long in a command position either. Academy, deputy position, then chief of staff of the brigade, then brigade commander, and then it's not far to admiral," dreamed the ambitious lieutenant.

His first appearance in officer's uniform at the Lakhnovskys' house caused a real sensation. Vika's father, a retired rear admiral, even teared up, seeing himself in the image of the young officer. He enthusiastically slapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, saying:

 — "Handsome! What an eagle, huh?! I barely blinked, and he's already a lieutenant. Any moment now, he'll jump to admiral…" Nikolai was embarrassed, blushed, while stealing glances towards Victoria. She, with pursed lips, approached and extended her slender hand.

 — "Congratulations."

..

He felt the warmth of her soft hand, while a "carousel" spun in his head. The lieutenant couldn't find words, only pressed her palm to his heart and, without blinking, gazed into her lovely blue eyes. They would have stood there in the hallway like statues if not for a sudden doorbell. Victoria flinched, pulled her hand from his, and clicked the lock open. The Caucasian appeared in the doorway. He grunted disapprovingly and, as if calling a little dog, beckoned the girl with his finger. She, sharply tossing her braid, turned and went into the room.

 — "Lieutenant?" — the Caucasian spoke to him for the first time and stared at the officer in amazement.

 — "And you're a businessman?" — Nikolai answered the question with a question.

 — "You guessed it. I trade. While you were loading up on science, I have five shops," — the Georgian began counting on his fingers. Nikolai pushed the Caucasian aside and went out onto the landing. His mood immediately soured. The bouquet of flowers he had brought remained lying on the hallway table. "Katsa" took it, inserted an envelope, and headed into the room. Approaching Victoria, he handed her the flowers.

 — "A gift for you…"

 — "From you? These are Nikolai's flowers!" — the girl flared up.

 — "What for flowers. Take envelope," — the Georgian handed over the envelope and threw the flowers into a corner. Victoria opened the envelope. There were dollars inside.

 — "You want to buy me?!" — the girl angrily threw the envelope on the floor.

 — "What? Not enough?! Here more, just be mine," — the Georgian fumbled confusedly in his pockets, scraping out money.

Victoria quarreled with "Katsa" then, but she didn't call Nikolai either.

Since then, Zarubin stopped visiting the Lakhnovskys. Time passed, and his emotional wound began to gradually heal. He understood that it was difficult for a young, beautiful girl to resist big money in these not-so-simple, crisis-ridden times. Especially since the Georgian spared no expense for her. And that meant: expensive restaurants, outfits, picnics, concerts in tantalizing proximity to the glitter of showbiz stars. He couldn't offer her such a life. And what kind of life did he have? Rushes, watches, patrol duty, frequent stays on the ship on weekends and holidays. And here it was, New Year's Eve, and he was on the ship again…

"And why did she come? Haven't I had enough wounds on my heart from her?!" thought Nikolai and stepped towards the car. The door opened, and the younger Lakhnovsky climbed out of the Zhiguli.

 — "Greetings to those on watch!" — he approached Nikolai, put an arm around his shoulders, pressed his warm cheek to the lieutenant's cold cheek.

 — "What brings you here?"

 — "To congratulate you on the holiday. And Vika wanted some air… Decided to look at the pre-New Year city."

 — "Why not from the window of a black Mercedes?"

 — "It's more convenient from your own car window: no extra eyes. And 'Katsa' is fussing with his wheels. Someone punctured them right outside our house. By the way. Don't you want to chat with her?"

 — "No. Sorry. I'm busy," — Zarubin turned and strode towards the gatehouse.

 — "Kolya!" — an agitated voice came from the car.

He shuddered as if struck by electricity, turned around. Victoria, in a white fur coat, red boots, and a mink hat, resembled the Snow Maiden. She walked slowly towards him, as if floating through the air.

 — "Yura. You said you had business on the ship. Will you manage in an hour?" — she turned to her brother.

 — "Quite…"

 — "Kolya. We need to talk. Shall we sit?" — she returned to the car and opened the rear door. Nikolai, reluctantly, helped her in and sat down beside her.

 — "Do you still love me?" — her eyes looked at him warily.

 — "You know I do…"

 — "Do you want me to become your wife right now?"

 — "Are you joking?.."

 — "Seriously…"

 — "Well, what about the Georgian?…"

 — "I'm asking you," — and, not letting him answer, her lips met his in a long, sweet kiss.

 — "Darling. I love you so much!" — he whispered, covering her face with hasty kisses.

 — "Me too. Now I'm yours, yours," — she tore open her fur coat so that a button from the collar flew off, hitting the windshield.

 — "Does it hurt?" — he worried.

 — "What do you think, when does a girl become a woman?" — she answered quietly.

 — "Maybe you should get off?"

 — "No way. Our road through the 'dunes' was already too long," — she replied and began energetically bouncing, despite the blood dripping from her body.

It really did hurt her, but this pain somehow inflamed her even more, and she, forgetting everything in the world, began bouncing on him so vigorously that the car, creaking on its springs, started rocking as if shaken by a giant's hand.

 — "They're really going at it," — laughed the duty officers at the checkpoint, glancing out the window at the sweet couple frolicking in the car.

 — "More! Harder! Fuck me, you bastard!" — she whispered with each thrust of his strong body against her hot pubis. He felt himself turning savage and, digging his fingers into her buttocks so hard that her blood began to seep under his nails, no longer understood that it was his beloved on top of him. He simply tore into this newly born woman, tore into her like a frenzied male, as if avenging all those long years of suffering and disappointment in his first and such strong love. She also understood that she had strung him along for too long, sowing doubts in his soul about her reciprocal feelings, and now, atoning for her guilt before him, she gave herself to him with such force and passion that she no longer cared what would become of her afterward, because she was already ready for anything, even a universal flood. But an unknown voice in her soul was already planting the worm of doubt, asking: "Did you do the right thing, admiral's daughter?"

They continued to torment each other until the mutual, powerful river of orgasm subdued them.

 — "Drink me all up right now,