WILD BITCH SEASON 01 (English draft): Over You
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Wild Bitch Season
by Rogger Dojh
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( ) 0 It was a dark and stormy night...
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=( _____| (_________|
Over You (translation working draft)
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, as well as to real events and localities, is purely coincidental and unintended.
Today we’re having an RPG shooting practice. They delayed the departure by an hour, because something went wrong with the trucks. This is 4 years later – I am now 26 years old and serving the Republic of Bulgaria. I have 6 months and 3 weeks of my compulsory service left. Women are a rare thing in here and that’s why it’s really easy to recall past events in contrast to the monotonous backdrop of the army. So my hunger for emotions is looking to the past for food.
We’re leaving for the shooting. Till next time.
A party while down in the slumps.
The time of the Cancer. I.e. the birthday of a Cancerine. That was the occasion.
The venue is Sofia, really close to Popa Sq. Actually the rendezvous is there too.
What was before that… As if it was a perfectly dead season. For the first time that summer I had jumped into a pair of pants, put on a white shirt, used a razor, aftershave, etc. bullshit. These things kinda make me feel real.
‘Mum’, a really close friend of mine, had completed his army service about two months before that and was already on track for parties. So at the party I met with Mum, Ender, Patsaka (the infamous cowardly double-glazed camel [that wears a helmet]), Slav and one of the Identical Ones. It’s all the same which one. The Identical Ones looked too much alike at the time.
The name of the birthday chick was Annie. She must have been something like 19. The kid was decent but she was dating an ugly tall guy. How she could stand him in bed is totally beyond me; I could hardly stand him in the room. Anyway, it’s her business. Bottom line is Annie had a birthday and she was throwing a party.
During the party I got really drunk. Very pleasantly drunk, in fact, since I didn’t get sick; I just found it hard to keep my balance during my peak. In the meantime, I was looking around for an available chick, but somehow I didn’t like any. Ender was hitting it off with some luscious ho that he had brought along; I don’t remember what the rest were doing. Basically, most of the girls who had dropped in for the party had a turn around the living room. And since at some point we were sitting on the living room floor, singing “In the men’s bath”, the girls didn’t stick around too long. (I will attach the song’s lyrics at the end of the chapter.)
I was very drunk and sang a lot. Mainly Mum and I sang, indeed, since he was the one who had brought it in from the army.
Felt like I managed to cross every girl who visited the occupied territories. Only one had an intriguing reaction. Some piece – with braces on her teeth. I guess that’s why I was screwing with her – quite innocent, this one.
Perhaps she didn’t give an intriguing response at all - but it was just the booze doing its job. On me, that is. She was sober. So at some point while I was screaming my lungs out, singing “In the men’s bath” over and over, enjoying the keen attention of the wasted gang, the girl, surprisingly, joined in. The wasted gang, that is.
…(at this point some things had happened, which the alcohol has kinda erased from my brain)
Later on, some people were leaving. Maybe they were friends of mine. Or maybe I just happened to be in the hallway, while some total strangers were leaving the party. In any case that chick was there. Slav was trying to communicate with her. My intoxicated conscious disagreed with Slav talking to every available girl and then hitching with her (which he loved to do). So when whoever was leaving, left, I had the following conversation with her:
“Come here,” quietly uttered and accompanied by an inviting nod. My conscious, floating in blissful intoxication, was watching the events from aside.
“Why?” The girl was playing dumb. She had leaned against the opposite wall of the hallway – a meter and a half away from me.
The girl took an unsure step forward. I helped her come closer by pulling her in; then I started kissing her without any more talking. The kid didn’t mind – she started kissing me back.
That’s how, as far as I remember, I met Veronica.
The party went on. These were the moments of the most serious alcohol blackout. In any case we found ourselves in the living room again, lying on a couch, some other couples around us. I wasn’t too happy about them, cuz I wanted to have sex and they were in the way. There was sex though - somebody had put on this painfully disgusting porn with some fat whore on a plane. The fat whore was masturbating with something, which would better be left undescribed.
So, while I was sobering up and chit-chatting with Veronica, we dozed off.
Then, morning came.
The girl doesn’t drink coffee and doesn’t smoke.
And I am sitting there, looking at her with a sober mind in the daylight; wondering whether I’m really attracted to that slightly skinny thing, sitting in some old chair like a lost puppy. We leave the apartment and somewhere around the NPC (* National Palace of Culture), where we part, I’m trying to nail a date with her. Rather out of convention than anything else, cause I’m still absolutely indifferent.
In the end we set up a date – same day, in front of the NPC, around 6 pm. The date does not take place – when I call her, according to the arrangement, she backs out.
This is how the day ends. And this is where the romance begins, because I fall for her – since she cut me off – and I fall for her hard.
Actually there will be about a week until our next date. Till then the following things happen.
When Veronica turned me down again, what I did not do was to back the fuck up. Back then I wasn’t familiar with the advantages of that state. I took sofia.txt* (* sofia.txt – same as newyork.txt, but with address and phone data for Sofia.), ran a search of her phone number and her address popped up. Very silly I bought a single red rose and rushed to look for her somewhere in the unfamiliar corners of Sofia. Finally I was forced to get a cab, since I couldn’t possibly figure out my way around the weird neighborhoods I found myself in.
Naturally, the denotation of the buildings and entrances was so messed up, that I couldn’t possibly find where exactly Veronica lived. I found a phone booth instead and scrounged a phone call from someone who was talking at the moment.
“Hi, can I speak to Veronica please?” I said to her mother’s voice.
“Just a second,” the mother answered.
“Hello?” Veronica said when she got on the phone.
“Hi. It’s Dojh.”
“Hi,” Veronica replied, showing no excitement at all.
“Let’s meet.” I got right to the point. I was pretty fucked up, by the way. Too much adrenalin in the blood stream, and shit like that. There was a high chance that I would start talking crap, so I was trying to get it over with.
“We’re renovating now. They won’t let me go.”
“Come on, I’m standing here, right in front of your house; you just need to come down. It won’t take long.”
“I can’t… Yeah right, in front of my house. You don’t know where I live.”
“………..” I’m reciting confidently the exact address. “But I can’t figure out where your entrance is.”
“How did you find my address?!?!”
“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“Tell me! Tell me now!”
“No way. I wanna see you...”
... And so on. The conversation didn’t get any more interesting; in the end I just tossed the rose somewhere and went home.
Then Veronica left for the coast with her boyfriend Peter. She stayed there for a week and came back alone.
The 7 days Veronica was away were interesting and highly emotional for me. I hung out with Mimi & Co. (Co = Stokhi + some unidentified flock of fuckers who tagged along) – that wasn’t all that emotional – but I had fallen so hard for Veronica, and her absence almost made me orgasmic. Meaning, my imagination filled in the vacancy with a better version of her. It’s a weird state. You miss a woman, whom you know from one unfinished evening. In your head you go through one insane week with her and she gradually turns into the perfect girl for you. But this doesn’t make up for her absence... stuff like that.
The evening at Baba Yaga was great. Mimi & Co were drinking beer, one of them was riding around on a bicycle, the rest were chit-chatting, and I felt like drinking wine.
“Mimi, let’s drink wine.”
“I don’t wanna drink wine.”
“But I want beer.”
“Mimi, c’mon, let’s get some wine.”
“I don’t wanna drink wine.”
So, Dojh is sitting on the round stone curb around some tree, absently staring at the passers-by. Standing by him are Mimi & Co. Dojh is still whining for wine. Nobody wants wine.
And then comes a girl, whose name is Maria (*Do not confuse with Mimi), and with whom Dojh is only partially acquainted.
“Hey you!” Dojh calls out to the girl, since she is pleasantly contrasting to the indifference of Mimi & Co to his desire to drink wine.
“Hi,” the girl replies, perhaps not enjoying the encounter as much. Actually I’m not sure what she is thinking, we never talked about it.
“D’you wanna get some wine?” I ask, since obviously I can’t talk about anything else at that moment.
“Yep” she answers.
“How much cash do you have?” I ask filled with hope.
“Me too. I suggest we get a bottle of red.”
“Let’s get some white. I don’t like red wine at all.”
“Hmmm. Ok then. White it is.”
A huge percentage of the female population doesn’t like red wine. They must have some aesthetic reasons for that; white wine seems more aristocratic, or what? Or maybe the taste buds belong to the secondary sexual characteristics... In any case this event was the beginning of the very pleasant domestic alcoholism, which continued throughout the whole summer. Every other night I guzzled a bottle of red wine, sometimes for the fun of it, sometimes because Veronica… Never mind.[B1]
So, a bottle of white wine was enough to get us deep into an interesting conversation. The second bottle was welcomed with love and understanding from both parties and at some point in the nightfall I realized that Mimi & Co had left. I even think they had said Goodbye. That didn’t really matter, since I was getting more and more intrigued by the chick, and at the same time I was crazy about Veronica. The alcohol was amplifying that feeling and slightly shifting its object (i.e. I missed Veronica terribly, but actually not necessarily Veronica...), so at some magnificent moment I asked the monumental, insanely stupid question:
“What would happen if I tried to kiss you?”
And that right in the heat of the conversation. Fucking adequate. God bless white wine.
“Why don’t you?” replied the girl appropriately.
Well, I tried. It actually worked. At some point we drew back, looked at each other with curiosity, and continued with the conversation.
I had skipped dinner. Perhaps that’s why I got so totally drunk from a single bottle of white wine. Actually, it might have been more than that; I didn’t pay attention to how much she drank and how much was left for me. In any case, at that time my folks were always ready to freak out, when I didn’t follow the assigned schedule, even though it should have been clear to them by then, that this was solely their problem. Therefore, when I didn’t even make an effort to call that I was going to be late, I had already got myself into trouble (yep, my folks stubbornly kept on making it my problem as well...) But my filial sentiments had temporarily stepped back due to the fortunate sequence of events and also the consumed spirits.
I came to my senses and jumped out of the bed at the chick’s apartment some time around 3 AM; I slipped into my pants and shirts and in a few minutes we were already walking around a nocturnal Sofia looking for sandwiches and a phone booth.
Here’s what my parents (who were still lurking awake next to the phone at home) had done: they had gone to Baba Yaga, called all my friends and found out the approximate address of the girl that I had left with. Thank God they hadn’t been able to actually find me.
In the morning the girl and I had a cup of conciliatory coffee and coke in front of her house (binding the contract that whatever happened will stay in the past with the break of dawn – I guess she also had her heart set on somebody. How we had ended up like that last night, one can only wonder). A bit later I had already run off somewhere.
And I was loveshocked. I was wondering when Veronica was going to come back from the coast.
The loony date was once again at 6 PM in front of the NPC.
The loony Veronica didn’t show up again.
I stood, waited, loitered, I hung around… She simply didn’t come.
So after 30 minutes I got on the tram, went home and, as I was getting off, my mom showed up at the window and started shouting down from the 3rd floor how some Veronica girl had called, and how she had said stuff about stuff... In short – she had forgotten what time the date was at.
Veronica showed up at our place 15 minutes later. The essential bottle of red wine was waiting on the floor, where we actually set up camp; and I really don’t remember what we were doing while we were consuming the wine. We must have been talking, I don’t think we tried to have sex; just your basic teenage BS; I was pretty uptight until the wine loosened me up.
Then Veronica decided to leave.
I saw her off pretty far away, walking, all the way to her place. I was cradling the bottle of wine (since we hadn’t finished it off…). I was very delightfully drunk and I have no idea how I managed to get back home – there were no buses at that time. Nor was there any cash for a cab. That was a very cashless summer. I don’t even know where I got dough for the wine. I probably pestered my dad for it...
Anyways, after I had convinced myself that the public transportation had betrayed me not running at 12 AM, I shrugged resignedly and set out on the way back humming “Night bird”. At home I threw myself on the bed and hibernated happily until morning.
Our next date was at my house again. The girl came with the agreement that she would stay over, so I bugged my parents for a double amount of food, poured the wine in the glasses and lit up a candle. I was trying to create a romantic atmosphere.
It turned out almost like in the movies – with the following exceptions: the main character didn’t know how to cook, so he relied on his parents for that; after dinner the guy and the girl went to bed together, but didn’t have sex; and there was no heart-breaking, semi-jazz music, to which actors usually assume terrifically erotic, genital-covering positions, expressing their immense love and tender raging passion. Argh.
I was actually pretty freaked out that I might have caught something from the affair at Baba Yaga – everything there happened without a condom – so I was waiting for the results from the HIV and syphilis tests to come out, and some other shit. I couldn’t use condoms anyway – every time I slipped on a condom, little Dojh shriveled sadly.
The night was educational – I got my first unconfirmed information about the existence of the G-spot – although it wasn’t mentioned with that name. I also made another discovery, which really made me fall for that girl – her natural scent, her breath, her hair – all these things smelled divine – even the taste of her mouth when we were kissing was wonderful.
After we fooled around in bed for a while, Veronica dozed off, and I just lay there half-awake. I couldn’t fall asleep until the morning when she left, since my bed was so damn narrow and there was always some part from my 197 cm that would stick out in the wrong direction.
I lay there in the night heat, the hours passing by in silence. That went on until the Sofia equivalent of the cockerel – the infernal yellow trams of death – sang with their battered wheels and announced to the whole world, that it’s time to get up. It’s 4 AM after all, they insisted, get up-get up, and hurry.
It just sucks to listen to somebody lying in your presence. This instantly puts every word they say to you under suspicion as well. That’s why when Veronica stated that she wasn’t seeing Peter anymore, I didn’t buy it even for a minute – a few times already she had told her mom on the phone that she was with Peter, when she was actually at my place.
I learned about her relationship with Peter right after she got back from the coast. At our first official date I mentioned that while she was away I had slept with another chick.
“Oh, don’t worry at all!” She replied joyfully. “I slept with a friend while I was at the coast, too.”
I didn’t mind – we were even.
But when Veronica started comparing Little Dojh to Little Peter, I started getting pissed off. And the loony girl really did do it.
We were sitting around at home one hot afternoon (some time before we actually fucked) and while we were hanging around in scanty clothing in the August heat, Veronica, out of nowhere, reached out, pulled out the elastic of my boxers and peeked in curiously.
“Oh,” she said. “I like it!”
I wasn’t quite sure how to react – it was a nice revelation. She saw my expression and decided to bring in some clarity:
“No, really! It’s big!”
“Uh-oh!” I thought, “Was that a compliment?”
“You should know,” Veronica kept talking, “that Peter’s thing is really small, like a baby carrot! When I slept with him for the first time and saw it, I couldn’t stop laughing!
“Sweet mother of Jesus!” I continued my silent monologue. I was wondering whether I should laugh as well, or what?
I was already terribly jealous of Peter. And that was my biggest delusion – Veronica had already broken up with him. Moreover – she did it on a day that I thought they were on a date. Paranoia had its grip on me – there was nothing else I could think after Veronica refused to see me and after that same night the seen-serv in the IRC channel where she used to chat, showed that she had been there 5 minutes earlier with Peter’s ident and IP. And since I was a stupid jealous cunt, I could only think about stupid bullshit like that.
I behaved totally irrationally, but I didn’t realize it. Veronica wasn’t helping me either, with her sudden outpour of capriciousness, which she started generating, lingering in a particularly sour mood. I was being stubborn, she was being stubborn... Even after we slept together for the first time, things didn’t improve much.
The night we had sex was just a brutal crime on her part. The girl just straddled me, came and then went to sleep. I think she cried a little. She hadn’t had an orgasm in a long time. But it was fucked up how she fucked me and then fucked me over. Guess that’s why she cried. She was not so dumb as not to sense it. But she was a noteworthy Ariesse so her scruples lasted for about 5 minutes. And I, the glorious follower of Onan that I was, gave myself a wicked jerk-off and also dozed off. (* The events described in this paragraph are slightly different from that reality, which this entire story accidentally resembles, but my editor threatened that she would bite my head off if I described the episode as it really happened; she claims that aesthetical effect is much more important than truth.)
Ever since my birthday in April, that same year that I hooked up and broke up with Veronica, a nasty tendency was to be observed: under the influence of cashlessness and the lack of any sensible occupation, I had sunk into depression. I had disintegrated morally and didn’t feel like doing anything. My libido had kinda waned with all of that. Veronica on the other hand hit me like a shock catalyst – and just when I had started feeling like a bed bug (*Footnote: the male bed bug is the most sexually potent critter, known to science; within 24 hours it ejaculates an amount of semen, which exceeds its own weight multiple times; its penis is sharp and hard and penetrates the female bed bug’s body wherever it chances – so that it needn’t look for the specifically designed reproduction organs.) she decided that she had to leave for Rudartzi where her grandma lived.
It was terribly stupid for me to wanna fuck so much and have nowhere to direct all that energy. It was also fucking dumb for Veronica to hook up with some dude over there and sleep with him three times that same week, when I was flapping like a fish out of water back at home (it was a good thing that I wasn’t suspecting anything at the time, it was only later that I found out about those affairs…) But as they say - c’est la vie.
The very evening that Veronica left was pretty cool itself. Nothing remarkable happened really, but the dam where the bus dropped us off was really beautiful, the summer air was intoxicating, the lakes we snuck by were romantic, and the falling night added even more sensuality to the whole picture. The only drawback, which kinda disturbed me, was her refusal to let me walk her to the house. Now that I think about it, it could have something to do with her local lover.
After she came back from Rudartzi, Veronica started spending a lot of time at my place. She was chatting on my PC, or just lying around, or we simply talked. And I was acting aloof and was being stubborn for every small thing that I could think of. Not all the time, but just enough to create a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere.
Eventually we brought up the topic of our relationship. Again the action took place on a sunny summer afternoon, again we were sitting on my bed, wearing the minimum of clothing required for observing basic hygiene – a pair of boxers, lace panties, or something of the sort.
“Do you still keep that photo in your wallet?” I had enquired back then. It was about the photo of her mystical cherry-popper Nick. She had even called him from my phone once. During the conversation, which I’d listened to with a fake indifference, she got angry with him for not having paid her the due attention (when he met her on the street, he was with his current girlfriend and behaved aloofly[B2] etc., etc.). And that’s the reason that Veronica pointed out why she was so bitchy when she was talking to him... which didn’t stop me from throwing another fit of jealousy. To put it shortly – that photo was driving me nuts.
“Yeah, of course,” Veronica replied. “Don’t even think that I will get rid of it.”
“You will get rid of it.” I stated decidedly.
“No, I won’t.” Veronica let me in on her point of view.
“Oh, come on, you are dating me and you are sleeping with me, and you have this guy’s picture in your wallet!”
I guess Veronica was totally frustrated with my stupid insistence at this point. In any case she answered with the following:
“Nick is the only man that I have ever loved and will ever love. Even now I am in love with him.”
She kept talking, her breasts flashing in the sunlight, shining in through the blinds.
I wasn’t happy with that love confession. Wrong person – wrong place.
“Its time for you to leave,” I stated and then stood up.
Veronica automatically started getting dressed, but when she really had to go, she stopped and looked at me.
“I don’t wanna go,” she said.
“Nobody’s asking you,” I replied, making my words sound much too harsh.
“I don’t wanna go,” the girl repeated. We were standing very close to each other.
“Now what? You just said that Nick is the man of your life. What are you doing in my room then?”
“I don’t want to go, cuz I’ll miss a lot of things.”
“Well, your bed, your computer, your room...” Veronica started to enumerate. But since she missed mentioning me in the nostalgic list I got even more pissed and kept on insisting until she left.
From here on things, following the normal human logic, totally hit the fan. Veronica left for Samokov to visit her cousins, and I went on vegetating at home. After she came back, the agreement that we’re dating was still valid, but she was very cold. We rarely saw each other and we only slept together one more time, when we were at Mimi’s place. Even then Veronica was checking out some guy from the building across, who was walking around in his underwear; and she started going on about how sexy he was – of course I instantly got jealous and started acting like a total ass…
The romance had vanished from our relationship. The only thing I felt was a tense codependence and vague jealousy. I very much wanted to be with Veronica but at the same time I found her constantly irritating. She, on the other hand, had lost almost all interest in me and spent her time alone at home. Moreover, August was coming to an end, and the “Calculus I” exam retake was hanging over the horizon like the fecal cloud of putridity – in other words, the present and the foreseeable future were starting to distinct themselves as extraordinarily unpleasant.
As a finishing blow, Veronica and I caught a fungal infection, for which she decisively blamed me; she pronounced me a complete bastard, who had the nerve to sleep with her without a condom and in general put the last but one dot in the ellipsis, which would signify the end of our relationship.
The last dot was all mine – elated by the sensation of behaving as an uncontrollable ass, I made a delightful scene over the phone, declaring to Veronica that we are no longer together. Then I left for the coast.
Once I was there I decided that I was madly in love with her. I wrote two poems, but the curtain had already dropped, and there was no chance or point in trying to hook up with her again. Later in September we met in Sofia, strictly as friends, and that was that.
Again at NPC – we split both of us going our separate ways and leaving behind nothing but the Indian summer, Sofia pedestrians and the traffic jam.
After this whole affair, I lost track of Veronica and didn’t hear from her again until after I joined the military. She is with Nick at the moment – almost 2 years now. She’s still wearing braces and she’s still a hot and slender chick.
Me? I’m still in the army – I have 11 weeks left till furlough. Dramatic performances such as my relationship with Veronica can’t upset me at all – my only drama is called “military service”, and the only dream I crave – discharge.
My hookup with Veronica was exciting and, in many respects, worth the trouble. But the thing that came after I got back from the coast challenged even my wildest notions of reality. And it had a name – The Bitch in White!
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