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Tiny Bathhouse

Bath fightrs
Sketch by Lilly Lefort



Русская версия


I won't convince you it is a true story - I doubt whether you believe. OK, let you think I've made up this story - I don't really care.



When I was a boy, I spent summers with my grandma in a village in the environs of Russian city Pskov. The village was quite large but semi-deserted. There were a few old bathhouses between the village and the creek, and just one of them was occasionally used for it's direct function.
Sometimes, neighboring boys tired of idleness crept up to the bathhouse and peeped through cracks at washing women. Since my early childhood, I got used to Russian bathhouses and to naked women's bodies - I was growing without father and I had to wash myself in women's section. In fact, watching undressed women was not really interesting for me; I wouldn't see anything I hadn't seen before. Nonetheless, a couple of times I joined my neighbor Vaska just for company - he felt uneasy to do that alone and entreated me to accompany him.

However, once we saw something that I was worth watching secretly. Two neighbor women got into the bathhouse; Vaska and I rushed there and lied low in sedge undergrowth, next to an old sealed up door - it had been used long before for jumping off the steam room but it had been destroyed and hammered in. There were a few slots, which we used for peeping through.

The steam room was tiny (something 3 by 2 yards and a narrow platform for sweating) - everything is clearly visible. Vaska and I came there just as the naked women were settling down to the platform that situated at left from us, so we saw them half face. The women started talking quietly but the conversation seemed not to be friendly and some tension was felt. They could barely be heard and I didn't strain my ears to hear them - I concentrated on watching. All the sudden, both stood up face off in menacing poses and clenched their fists. They stood half-turned toward each other so closely that their hips were bumped - very impressive. The closer one, with her back and side to us, shielded the other one who faced us.

This is time to describe our heroines. They were probably quite young that time but not for an 11-year-old boy though. Both were quite corpulent, with convex feminine delights - wide-hipped and busty (their heavy breasts flattered slowly and solidly). The scene seemed to be really frightful - their fist looked robust and I imagined them as female giants from a fairy-tale; I was even frightened; I noticed Vaska also held his breath and stared wide-eyed.

Suddenly, the one who was closer to us, mannishly punched the opponent in the belly as mightily as she could - as the result, her rival folded up and clasped her arms below her bosom. The puncher screamed, "Don't even approach him!" I can't forget this sight - one woman stands triumphantly placing her fists on her hips (we saw her from behind). Her rump was wide and the flesh literally burst out of her hips. The other one faced us half shielded by the first one. Hair stick to their faces and bodies intensified the tension of the situation and passion of the rivals. For some reason, the one who had been hit attracted me more - her bosom nicely dangled - her figure expressed kind of nobility. I was unable to tear myself from her figure, face and eyes shining by pain and anger. I didn't realize then what exactly had excited me but my heart literally jumped out of my chest. In a moment, she instantly straightened up and smacked the adversary in the face in full strength. Actually we didn't see the blow - the first one shielded the picture but it was obvious that she punched from below - the head of the punched woman abruptly jumped up and she leaned back and bumped in the sealed door (which we watch through) almost breaking it in. It was like a good knockout in boxing. For a few moments nothing was seen - we just heard screeches and wails and then we saw the thrown woman crawling toward her opponent in attempts to overturn her. The standing one turned out to be defter - she managed to lay hold of the arm, twisted it behind the back and treaded on her nape of the neck. I felt greatly relieved - I ached for the one who eventually emerged the victor. The defeated one screamed: "Release me, bitch!" and the other one left her alone - she got dressed and leaving the bathhouse she said calmly: "So, I have approached him and I will do!" The remaining one sniffled a little and started getting dressed.

A strange feeling gripped me - for the first time I encountered the undisguised female rivalry in its violent manifestation and unfamiliar delight spread all over my body. For some reason or other, I daydreamed that the women fought over me. This fantastic thought warmed me up and haunted me for a long time. When I then met the woman who won the bout, I looked at her like bewitched - at her shapely body, at her graceful gait (when she was walking, her hips moved somehow "perfectly"). She just glanced at me not figuring out at all that I was not indifferent to her (an eleven-year-old boy!); moreover, she didn't realize I had seen her fighting against her rival.

I didn't know who was a guy the women had brawled over - both had husbands (both drunkard though). Vaska gossiped that they didn't share a local teacher but I didn't believe - he seemed to be too old.

I have seen through a lot in my life but I haven't seen anything like that "duel"; if I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have even imagined that women (what is more - naked ones) would fight so vividly.

As a matter of fact, my very first physical interest in women emerged just at that time.



Sergey Velikanov

September 2005

Illustration by Lillie Lefort


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