Vadim
"Oysters, caviar, crab… trying to impress me, Vadim Alexandrovich?" Vika continued to play with our names, something like role-playing in an office romance. We had business relations, and an affair could very well happen. The temptation was enormous, and I was doing my best not to ignore the restraining factors. And it was damn hard. DAMN HARD!
"I doubt you can be impressed by that," I smiled subtly, nodding to the waiter to repeat her cocktail.
"And what do you think could impress me?" today she flirted and teased far more than during all the time of our renewed acquaintance.
My gaze moved over her beautiful face, her bright lips, and stopped heavily on the seductive neckline of her elegant dress. What could impress Viktoria Zimina? Fuck her senseless until she lost consciousness, drowning in orgasms, begging for more… My cock stirred in my trousers, coming alive, swelling, the thick head stretching the fabric painfully.
"Bring dessert for the lady," I ordered when the waiter materialized at the table with a snap. Vika wrinkled her nose and pouted, imitating Moscow escorts.
"What would you like?"
"Mille-feuille, bird cherry cake?" she suggested mockingly, listing the Sakhalin menu. "Or wagashi mochi?"
"Cookies with boiled condensed milk. Surprised?"
"An excellent choice," the waiter noted and left, and Vika laughed lightly.
"You always knew how to surprise," she said quietly, lifting her green eyes to me, letting me see the haze of longing in them.
"If I'm so surprising, why did you leave, huh, Vik? Will you tell the truth?" I smirked crookedly.
She shrugged vaguely, not rushing to answer.
"That was a long time ago, Vadim. Why stir up the past?"
"Haven't we been doing exactly that for three months already? No?"
"Don't," she said softly. "I tried to be an official who keeps equally professional relationships with all partners. You didn't suffer without me all these years either. You got married, had a child. Or are you not happy in your marriage?" she looked into my eyes intently.
"I am," I answered briefly, not intending to lie.
"Then what do you want, Vadim?" she tossed her copper hair back tiredly. "What do you need?"
"You know," I whispered quietly. "You know, don't you?"
"I do," she lifted her chin arrogantly, almost childishly. "A calculating alpha male got tired of his legal female and went off the rails looking for variety."
"That's rough."
"But true!"
It wasn't true: what I felt for Vika was definitely more than simple lust, but I wasn't ready for big statements yet.
"That's not it," I shook my head. "I've never cheated on Katya."
"Impressive," Vika snorted. "Men like you are hard to keep tied down. Your wife must be special…" she looked meaningfully.
I didn't want to talk about Katya. That felt unnecessary. Almost sacrilegious.
"Let's dance?"
"They don't dance here," Vika frowned in surprise.
"We'll be the first."
I helped her up and led her slightly away from our sofa. There was enough space between the tables, and the modern chandeliers glowed with a soft intimate red. We moved among round islands, each living its own little life. No one looked, no one judged us for breaking etiquette. No one noticed the dense magnetic tension, while we trembled from the heated closeness, from forbidden passion, wild desire.
I pressed her lush, feminine body tightly against mine, leaving not a millimeter between us. I stared at her tempting lips like a starving beast, wanting to kiss her, barely holding on. And Vika breathed unevenly, shifting slightly, brushing against my groin. My hard cock pressed against her stomach, and she knew it wasn't a belt buckle. She could have cooled me down, slapped me, told me to go to hell—but she just looked into my eyes, drawing me in.
"I'll drive you," I opened the door for her, helped her into the car. We didn't say another word. We just took our things, I paid the bill, and led her out of the crowded place. It was past midnight, but I wasn't watching the time at all. I turned my phone off completely. Cut off everything that wasn't connected to this intoxicating desire.
I sped across Krymsky Bridge and a couple of minutes later smoothly took a turn, slowing down near her apartment building on Leninsky.
"We're here," Vika said quietly and turned to me. "Thank you for dinner, Vadim Alexandrovich…"
"Will you invite me in?" I asked, holding her with my gaze.
"You shouldn't," she exhaled hoarsely, licking her lips.
"Vika…" I couldn't hold back and leaned toward her.
Fuck my self-control. She trembled all over, swallowed hard, and kissed me back. Passionately, insistently. She had been worn out too, starved over these months. Soft, full, honeyed lips—I wanted to feel them everywhere! But not yet—too many clothes. I tore the mink coat from her shoulders, found her full breast and squeezed it fiercely, unable to hold back.
"Vika, you've driven me crazy. Again…" I whispered raggedly, dropping my defenses. She was burning, and I was losing myself in her.
"Vadik…" she exhaled unevenly. It made me twitch slightly—I didn't like it when my name was shortened. Meanwhile, Vika ran her hand over my groin, stroking my cock through my trousers. Let her call me whatever she wanted. Right now, she could do anything.
I slid my hand under her skirt, caressing the soft skin, moving toward her panties. She was completely wet, hot.
"No, we can't," she squeezed her thighs together, pushing me away, hastily fixing her clothes. "We can't do this! You're married!"
"Fuck," I slammed my fist against the steering wheel with all my strength. Vika left. Left me hard. Drunk on passion and aggressive with desire. Damn it! I hit the gas sharply. Got home in seven minutes and barely broke any traffic rules. A record. It was almost one in the morning—I'd stayed late at that "business meeting."
"Where were you?" Katya appeared in the hallway as I tore off my jacket. "I called…"
I didn't hear her. My ears were still ringing, all the blood pooled in my groin, and right next to me was a woman—beautiful, desirable. She could give me pleasure and the release I needed so badly.
My wife never greeted me in hair rollers and a shapeless robe, but she wasn't always dressed like a fatal seductress either. That's the difference between the woman who's already caught her man and the one who's still catching him: one gets him instantly, the other after some effort.
"Katya," I pulled her close, burying my face in her thick hair, catching the soft skin of her neck. Warm, familiar, smelling faintly sweet. I pressed her hard against the wall, lifted her legs onto my waist, pulled up her short silk thing. We didn't often go beyond the bedroom anymore, and even there we weren't as eager as before. It was good, but routine somehow. But now I'd be grateful even for missionary. If I didn't come, I'd explode.
I pulled down her panties, squeezed her smooth mound. Katya was well-groomed, like a purebred cat. Something to envy. Even I envied myself. But… that damn "but"!
"Dim, stop. Vadim!" she suddenly pushed me away harshly. What kind of strike was this?! Didn't her beloved husband deserve access to her body?! Fucking women.
"So even you won't give me anything?!" I snapped, grabbing her ass aggressively, pressing my hard groin into her so she'd understand how ready I was.
"What did you say?" Katya gasped quietly. I didn't answer. "Dim?"
"You heard me," I said roughly, setting her back on her feet. Apologizing or backing down wasn't in my nature. Sometimes that worked against me. Like now. Fuck.
Katya stepped closer, touched my chest, then lifted a long copper hair up to eye level. She was blonde—so there was no lying my way out of this. Fuck. Twice.
"Do you have someone?"
The tone hit me with a wave of shame, and I stepped back awkwardly, running a hand through my short hair. Strange, but I had never been able to lie to my wife. I could twist and maneuver in business, especially dealing with the government. But not with Katya.
"Yes, I do," I said shortly, closed off. I didn't want a confrontation now. I didn't want it at all—but especially not at one in the morning.
Katya stared at me, disbelief and fear in her eyes. The air thickened with tension, and something cold grew between us. Poetic—but not romantic at all. I moved toward her: I had to explain, take the words back. Lie—say I didn't mean it. But words, once spoken, couldn't be taken back.
"Katya, I didn't—"
"Mom!" Nika's voice came from the bedroom. "Mom, can I come to you? I'm scared."
I jerked my head up. Katya snapped out of it too.
"I'm coming, sweetheart," she called, then looked at me with quiet finality: "You smell like perfume."
She left, and I, stunned by the heavy silence, went to the shower. I washed off Vika's spicy scent, but the intoxication and the dirty thoughts stayed with me. My erection softened a little, but that was temporary.
Katya wasn't in the bedroom. I glanced into the nursery but didn't call out. I didn't want to wake Veronika—we'd never get her out of our bed after that. I lay down and picked up my phone. Thought for a minute, then typed a message:
What have you done to me? I can't stop thinking about you…
Childish, sure—but she'd like it. It hadn't even been ten seconds before the reply came. She wasn't asleep yet.
And I'm thinking about you…
Why didn't she let me? Maybe I wouldn't feel this pulled to the side right now. Maybe it would've eased off. Of course, I didn't write that. Now all I could do was jerk off in the bathroom—no one else was going to help me.
I hope there weren't any problems at home?
I let out a humorless chuckle, deleted the messages, and put the phone on charge. Katya never came back. I had a feeling tomorrow I'd be dealing with a "fantastic" hangover from tonight's revelations. It didn't scare me—we'd figure it out somehow. Katya could flare up, but she cooled down quickly. She wouldn't leave me, right? I even smirked. Absurd. I waited another half hour, then sleep took me.
The alarm went off at the worst possible moment. Half past seven—so everything was normal, then why did I feel like shit? I forced my eyes open, propped a pillow behind my back. There was a tight, anxious feeling in my chest. I glanced at the empty side of the bed—so my wife was seriously upset. I started going over yesterday… and all the past months I'd been spiraling.
Vika had enchanted me. I was drawn to her uncontrollably. Maybe I had even fallen for her all over again. She stirred something reckless and youthful in me—the passions and impulses of youth. I wanted to step into the ring again, taste my first victory, grab girls by their asses, make out under the moon. But in the light of a winter morning, those desires of the flesh, just like the memories of the past, no longer seemed as important as they had yesterday. Were fleeting cravings enough to trade my family for? Was I really ready to hurt my Katya like that? So far, nothing irreversible had happened in reality—I was only cheating on her in my thoughts, day and night. I was messing with Vika's head too—with attention, gifts, burning passion. I was guilty on all fronts, I admitted it. But I saw no way out. If only I could sleep with Zimina and then live in perfect harmony with Katya. But I wasn't sure it would end there. And living a double life—God forbid! Divorce wasn't an option for me; I loved my wife and adored my daughter. Children should grow up in complete families. A dead end. Damn it, I might as well cut my dick off and become a eunuch!
"Dad, I'm awake!" my daughter jumped on top of me like a fluffy bundle.
"Strawberry, you're going to crush me!" my abs were rock solid (thanks to boxing), but my reflexes weren't what they used to be. "You're eight, but you weigh like you're nine, little donut gymnast!"
In response, she squirmed even more with her bony limbs. Nika was an athlete—nothing but angles: thin, long, pretty. She took after Katya. From me, only the gray eyes.
"Where's Mom?"
"Making breakfast."
"Did you brush your teeth?"
"Ugh…" she whined.
"Go, now. And I need to get up."
I came to breakfast fully dressed and ready to leave. I wasn't planning to run away—we really needed to talk, Katya and I. And I needed to eat. The whole apartment smelled of fresh pastries, and the table was already set. Katya was a great homemaker: she didn't like cleaning—there were people for that—but in the kitchen she was a goddess. Michelin restaurants could go smoke in the corner. I grabbed a crispy piece of bread, generously spread with aromatic butter, and speared a slice of salmon with a fork.
"Tasty?" I asked my satisfied daughter, who was devouring a similar slice—only with Nutella.
"Yeah," she said, glued to her phone.
"Less gadgets," I warned like a proper father and headed to the kitchen. It smelled of coffee… and resentment. I felt it immediately. Katya stood by the coffee machine, staring thoughtfully at the winter scene outside. The clouds hung low and heavy. If I were Atlas, I could have held the sky on my shoulders—but I was just a man.
"Morning," I came up behind her, trying to kiss her out of habit. Didn't work. She moved away. Tight jeans, soft sweater, long hair thrown over one shoulder. She smelled like Kilian's Angel—I loved that scent. I had given it to her myself. To me, it was associated with expensive, heated sex. Katya was more poetic in her metaphors: luxurious, beautiful sexuality—open, but not vulgar. She herself was the embodiment of beauty and grace… but today she looked sad. Because of me.
"Was Nika watching her 'Winx' again?" I asked casually, trying to ease the tension. My daughter loved those fairies, then dreamed about all kinds of villains. I was already an expert in kids' animation.
Katya turned and looked straight at me. Dark eyes framed by thick black lashes glimmered with anger, her gaze captivating, piercing—as if she could see right through me. Sometimes it felt like she could read minds. That's how she caught me ten years ago. Plenty of beauties had circled around me, but only Malvina looked into my soul—proud, bold, principled.
"Are we going to stay silent?" I said dryly, taking a sip of coffee. Of course, her looks and her beauty had become familiar—nine out of ten years married—but that didn't mean I had fallen out of love with my wife.
"Mom, are we going?" Nika shouted from the dining room.
"You'll go with Uncle Misha today, okay?" I said, dialing the driver. "Misha, come up and take Veronika. Katya's staying home today."
She didn't object. She understood—we needed to settle this before the resentment hardened.
"Katya…" I called when we were alone. She hadn't said a word, only said goodbye to our daughter.
"Do you have a woman?" she asked calmly. The fact she spoke at all—that was already something.
Of course, I could lie, make something up—but it wouldn't work. Not with Katya. I loved her and had never cheated… technically, I still hadn't! But I wanted to—that was the truth. I still wanted Vika, even now, almost caught. I had to be honest with myself. And with her.
"Yes," I admitted, not looking away. "I got carried away…" I hesitated for a second and said a half-truth: "With a colleague."
Katya didn't need to know that Viktoria Zimina was my past, my first love. That would lead to even worse thoughts—true ones.
"I see," she said and turned fully toward me, looking straight into my shameless eyes. An interrogation was coming. My wife was gentle, but strong-willed.
"Do you remember how we walked along the embankment at dawn and talked about relationships?" she suddenly asked. No questions about who, whether I'd slept with her, how serious it was. That unsettled me—I didn't like surprises.
"I don't remember, we talked about a lot of things," I said, though I did remember. At nineteen, Katya had been a maximalist with a heightened sense of justice—her philosophical ideas weren't close to me, but they fascinated me.
"I said I would never forgive cheating, and you said if people divorced over every stupid fuck, no family in Moscow would last more than three years."
Yeah, that sounded like me. I was twenty-five then, dividing the world into black, white, gray—and rarely color. I still thought like that. No, cheating didn't strengthen a marriage, but if it happened—you had to approach it rationally.
"Let's say," I answered dryly. I still didn't quite understand where she was going with this.
"Then you'll accept my decision."
I frowned, my heart skipping a beat. What was my Malvina planning? Was she going to run off to her mother's and teach me a lesson?
"I'm leaving you."
"What?!" I even laughed. This was nonsense. TOTAL nonsense. I didn't believe it. "Where, may I ask?"
"Don't worry. We'll manage."
I studied my wife carefully. No sign of playing hurt—no "convince me, beg me, get on your knees." No signs of quick reconciliation.
"Are you serious right now?" I asked just in case.
"I am."
"Katya, I'm sorry," I tried to take her hand—it didn't work. "Want me to sleep on the doormat with the dog? I don't want to live even a day without you."
Even the threat of a temporary separation killed my libido. Vika vanished beyond the borders of my priorities.
"Vadim, you don't understand: I want a divorce. I don't need a husband who gets 'carried away.'"
Now I was genuinely stunned. No—fucked. What the hell was she saying?!
"Katya, this isn't funny."
"Where do you see anything funny?!" she snapped. "Don't lie that this started yesterday! You've been different for months. I thought it was work, but it's… it's a colleague!" she said bitterly. "Do you think I'm stupid? That I don't see the changes in you?"
Fuck. What an absolute idiot I was. While I was drowning in base passions, my girl had been suffering, sensing trouble.
"I won't give you a divorce," I said sharply. "I won't let you go. You're my wife. You're mine, Katya!"
"I'm not asking for permission," she raised her voice too. "I'm informing you!"
I swallowed, trying to calm the beast rising inside me. They were trying to take what was mine—my wife, my daughter, my family! I wouldn't let them!
I exhaled sharply and tried another approach.
"And Nika? This will be a huge stress for her. I don't want to damage her mentally. Kids should grow up in a loving, complete family."
"A family where the father disappears at night and the mother cries is a bad environment. I don't want to live together just for the child. I don't want to panic every time you're late, imagining you with a mistress. To be jealous of every skirt in your office. I can't live like that, Vadim! I won't last!"
"Katya…" I tried to embrace her, to feel her again, to take back the pain I caused—but she stepped away behind the kitchen island. She didn't want my closeness. "I didn't cheat on you."
Fuck, I hadn't even slept with Vika, and I was getting destroyed for it!
"Really?" she tilted her head, piercing me with her gaze. I faltered and set my cup down with a dull sound. I was done eating anyway.
"Cool off, Katya. We'll talk tonight," I muttered and left. I couldn't talk to her like this! I wanted to be angry and beg for forgiveness at the same time. I needed to clear my head. Understand my wife—and myself.