Vadim's bathhouse

They took the metro from the Belorussky railway station. It was not very convenient for people to stand in a clogged subway car, stinking of an unwashed dog three times, accidentally pushing light grandmothers with heavy bags at the exit to Rizhskaya. Then we walked for about twenty minutes, it felt like more than an hour, of course. Oleg already thought that Vadik's car was something fictional and the chance that now they would turn into some yard and there would really be a car there was just as equal to the chance to see a carriage drawn by pegasus there. As a result, a vulgar red BMW E38 was found in the five-story courtyard, which Volkov initially passed because he had a better opinion of Vadik. Sitting in the front seat, Oleg disapprovingly watched the most faggot spectacle in his life – how Vadik, in the driver's seat of a red BMW, takes Lady Gaga's disc out of the glove compartment and inserts it into the drive, with two fingers, trying not to stain the information relief. In traffic, Vadim lowers the window and gives Oleg a pack of cigarettes to light them with his lighter. The cabin is filled with sweetly acrid cigarette smoke. It was already dark when they reached the cottage, and a fat, smiling blonde of about fifty opened the gate. — Mom, this is Oleg. Oleg is my mother. Oleg has not seen his mother for a long time, I'm afraid that I did not describe this joke very clearly, so I'll explain, here Vadim introduces his mother to Oleg just as a mother, and then we are talking about the fact that Oleg has not seen HIS mother for a long time. He had never met Vadik's mother before and she seemed very nice and friendly to him. While the bathhouse was heating up, they sat and drank tea in a small kitchen, with apples in a vase on an oilcloth tablecloth, homemade jam, thousands of sunsets and ceremonial dishes that looked enviously from the sideboard at other dishes, which, unlike her, knew what “freedom” was, and at Vadim, whom she looked at from her sideboard all the way life, and Oleg, whom it was interesting to consider – young and hot, so new, still without “party bags" on his back, and scars on his soul. Mom asked about the service, about how “there" is and whether everything is fine. She called them and Vadim affectionately “boys”, as if they had not returned from the war, but came to play dandy after school, but how else was she? But personally, she addressed Oleg as “you” and asked about everything in general – the past, plans for the future, thoughts about the present and whether he was married and something else. As if in a little while she would start wooing him for her daughter. There really was a daughter, a tall girl with fluffy hair braided in a rustic braid. Lena. She was about twenty years old, studying to be a geographer, but Oleg was not excited, as was the prospect of getting married. He answered questions about his personal life evasively, saying that his plans for the future were only for service, which was undoubtedly true, and Varvara Egorovna (that was her mother's name) slightly moderated her ardor when she found out that Oleg detdomovsky, it seems that she did not particularly like this news. Vadim tried to pull his mother back when she started asking very uncomfortable questions. An hour later we finally went to the sauna. It was already quite late. Outside on the porch, Volkov breathed in the fresh coolness of the night with relief. All these conversations were very tedious for him, he is not particularly verbose in principle. The bathhouse was on the outskirts, it was necessary to go through the garden, which is not bad, because it was not visible from the window. Vadim took out a couple of cans of beer from the back seat of a red BMW and headed through an apple grove straight to his destination, simultaneously picking up a couple of poured apples from the ground, threw one to Oleg, wiped the second on his trousers and ate it without chewing. The bathhouse was a small wooden house with a burning light. Woodpile, dressing room, washing room and steam room. In general, it was not as hot in the bathhouse as in the grandmother's bathhouse in the Tatar countryside, which Oleg went to as a child. Although for more than twelve years the memories were of course dulled, but I clearly remembered the animal horror of the bath day, when your skin would burn, and grandma would beat with a broom, as if for all mortal sins. It was warm in Vadik's bathhouse. It's nice to be warm. Outside, despite the summer month, it was already cold at night, and this made it doubly comfortable in a heated room. The bathhouse was as cozy as the house itself, it was not heated in black, it was decorated with a euro wagon. Some napkins, some rugs, some porcelain figurines and cross-stitched paintings, Varvara Egorovna clearly has nothing to do. Vadik pulled off his T-shirt, and trousers, and everything else included in the standard package. He plopped down on a chair in the dressing room, stared expectantly at Oleg, not even bothering to bring his legs together. And Oleg, undressing next, looked into the eyes of Vadim, then the cross-embroidered horsewoman from Bryullov's painting, then Vadim again, but a little lower. And how not to watch? — Shall we go? Seventy–five degrees in the steam room is very comfortable. You can sit for a long time without losing consciousness, which is good. — You can already order girls here. – Vadik said, laying out on the top shelf. — Do you want to? Oleg's voice even sounded sad and surprised. He was looking at the ceiling. We decided to be content with each other's company. Of course, the pleasure of an army bath is not that much. It was pleasant to wash the whole company in half an hour, compared to the rest, but no more. Now everything was different, finally it was possible to retire and, what can I say, just relax. A couple of times we went out to smoke, looked at the stars, Vadim blew smoke in Volkov's face, as then, at the stations, then returned. Vadim was sitting on the bottom shelf, and Volkov was putting his head on his lap. "You have someone, don't you?" — Vadik suddenly asked, scared, probably by the very thought that it had not occurred to him to ask about it until that moment. Oleg, after all, is probably waiting for a girl in St. Petersburg, how not to wait for this. In this case, you need to feel guilty. — There was someone, I don't like to remember it. OK then. Anyway, what difference does it make when he puts his head in your lap? Oleg was never very verbose. He just lay there and stared into the void. What's the difference when he rubs his cheek against your legs? Vadik suddenly changed his face, it seems that he has resumed his usual fucked-up mood. — I hope I won't have to drop the soap?