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Subject: {ASSM} Ksenia - Other Things (Mg, pedo, non-cons)
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Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2006 21:10:03 -0500
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STORY: Ksenia - Other Things (Mg, pedo, non-cons)
by Baldwin

This is a work of fiction (based, however on a true story). Read
stories, don't hurt kids.



There is a land far to the north, a land near the dawn and far from the
throbbing pulsation of modern life. There the winters are fierce and
long, the summers short and merciless in heat and the over abundance of
insect life. The settlements and villages flung far across the face of
distant Siberia know few comforts, their inhabitants live off of what
they can grow and what little they are able to earn supporting opulent
business owners who exploit their labor and rape the virgin forests of
that great land. So much like those forests are the men who destroy
them, old and broken down, who turn their faces from truth and goodness
for the sake of the moment.

Ksenia was about nine years old, small for her age and thin, her
drunken father sparing little from his drinking to nurture his
daughter. She had dirty blonde hair which was usually drawn back in a
careless pigtail and soft blue eyes that had a sad adult look to them.
If you were to meet her in the street you would find the mature, sad
look of those eyes set within her young face a paradox not easily
explained and very much impressive, leaving the observer feeling almost
as though little Ksenia had lived too long and seen too much for her
tender age of nine.

This afternoon she was playing with her friend Natasha, setting little
bits of wood they had fashioned into play boats afloat in puddles left
by the recent rain. Ksenia was wearing a pair of tight yellow shorts,
already too small for her and a pale blue tea shirt that had been too
small for her last summer but which she managed to stretch onto her
thin frame. She squatted next to the murky water, moving her toy boat
about the puddle with a long stick. Natasha glanced up and then hissed
at Ksenia.

	""Ksenia, it's your papa." The little girl warned her friend,
looking worriedly towards the rough looking man coming down the street.
	"Natasha, I'll probably need to go home." Ksenia said, standing up
and throwing down her stick.  Maybe we can play down by the river this
evening?"
	"All right," Natasha said, looking worriedly as the large man
careened down the street towards them.   "I had better be going home,
though."

Ksenia nodded her agreement. She had grown used to the fact that
whenever her father showed up everyone else seemed to want to leave.
She turned towards the drunken figure and prepared herself for what she
intuitively knew was coming. The man drug himself forward, stumbling
over himself and nearly falling several times. With great effort and
mounting rage he closed in on the little girl. Ksenia wondered if she
should run away, but then she would just get in more trouble when he
found her later. She bit her lower lip and shifted her weight from foot
to foot.

	"You little bitch!" bellowed the man.   "I've been lookin' for you
all over!" He grabbed her by her arm and shook her violently. Ksenia
felt like her head was going to snap off but knew from experience that
it wouldn't.   "Look at me you little hussy," he shouted into her
face, continuing to shake her.   "I won't have you running away not
having your chores done. I feed and clothe you and the least you could
do is a few chores. Shit!"
	"I'm sorry papa; I was just playing with..."
	"Shut up, bitch!" He shouted at her.   "Get your little butt home,
now!"
	"Yes, papa." She said, a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

Sergey Pushkarov shoved his daughter ahead of him and slowly staggered
behind her towards their little cabin on the edge of town. Life was not
what it used to be. It seemed that after every binge his body ached
more and more. He needed to get some more alcohol or he was sure he
would die from his upcoming hangover. The trouble was that he had no
money and no merchant or boot leg dealer would advance him any more
credit.

When Sergey lagged a bit behind her, Ksenia took off running arriving
several minutes before him and began to clean. Sergey stumbled in the
door and smiled.
	"That's my good little girl, gets right to her chores!" He grinned a
toothy, yellow smile and pushed her to the side as he made his way
across their little kitchen, through the rag curtain into the single
bedroom. Ksenia heard him throw himself down on the metal spring bed
and took a deep sigh of relief as she heard him begin to snore. She
would have several hours to get things in order before he was awake
again.


The sun had turned an orange color as evening began to creep up on the
little village. Night, at this time of year would only by an
intermittent twilight between dusk and dawn, but the heat was subsiding
and the bugs were out humming in fathomless hordes. Ksenia had spent
the better part of four hours cleaning the kitchen space, and the
living room. She had tirelessly collected vodka bottles and beer cans
and spirits jugs. They had almost no furniture, and no rugs or carpets,
the single table in the kitchen, a broken TV stand in the living room,
the single bed in the bedroom (and that without a proper mattress) and
a mismatched assortment of half broken chairs was all that the demon of
alcoholism had not devoured. After collecting the garbage left from a
weeks binge she swept and mopped, cleaning away vomit and dried human
refuse. Why did papa have to drink so much, she thought. Why couldn't
he be like other fathers and work and repair his house and buy good
food and a pretty little dress for her. She felt tired, weary of life
at the tender age of nine.

Ksenia could remember better times, though only vaguely. She remembered
a nice woman she had called mother. She remembered a clean house and a
nice couch and a thick rug. The house she thought was different, with
bright wallpaper and colored floors, not at all like the dingy faded
and torn paper that barely adorned their walls or the chafed and
checked up wooden floors of their current dwelling. She remembered
candy and oranges and a life without care, clean sheets and her own
bed, a real bed, not the pile of rags she slept on in the living room.
But of all the memories the best was of the woman she called mother,
how she would sit on her lap and the woman would hold her close and
softly stroke her hair and tell her nice stories and call her precious
names, which Ksenia had all but forgotten. The girl wiped a rag across
the kitchen table, her other hand dashing away a tear. She could still
cry. A few more years and gentle little Ksenia would forget even that.

Sergey moaned and snorted from behind the rag partition. Ksenia scanned
the kitchen, hoping beyond hope that he would like what he saw. She
stood by the table, looking attentively to the curtain, waiting for her
father to emerge from his room. She heard him slide his feet off the
bed, groaning all the while. She heard the floor boards' creek as he
stood up. She heard him shuffle forward. His hand brushed the rag
curtain aside.
	"Oh," he moaned, rubbing his blood shot eyes and running a hand
across his face.  "My head hurts." He stumbled across the room and
dropped onto a stool next to the table. Ksenia made sure to stay just
out of his reach, just in case.
	"Been keeping yourself busy, ah?" Sergey mumbled, looking sideways
at his daughter.  Where's dinner?" He looked at her, waiting for an
answer.
	"Papa, there wasn't anything in the cupboards..." her voice trailed
off as she realized her excuses wouldn't do anything but anger him.
	"What," Sergey squinted at her disdainfully. "You didn't make
anything at all! I don't know what I keep you around for. You good for
nothing little hussy. I should just ..." his voice trailed off as the
insanity of his demands began to sink into his alcohol soaked brain. Or
maybe he just lost track of his thoughts. At any rate he left her
alone, laying his throbbing head on the table.

Ksenia was just waiting for him to leave. She hoped to meet up with
Natasha down at the river. It was already getting late and Natasha's
parents wouldn't let her stay out too long. If only he would go back to
bed. Or go out. Or fall asleep at the table. She really did not care;
she just hoped she could get to see her friend again.

A step sounded on the path outside, the rickety gate, hanging by one
hinge, leading into their yard cracked open and scraped closed. Ksenia
hoped it might be one of her father's drinking friends, then she could
slip away without Sergey noticing. A light, confident step came up to
the front door.

Even before he was at the door, Ksenia knew who it was. It had to be
Dimitri Rukasuev. She could tell by his stride, and the fact that he
went to the trouble to close the gate. Dimitri was a nice man, about
twenty-five. As tall as her father but much leaner, all his muscles
toned. He was clean and always smelled like cologne. His black hair was
always slicked back, his dark eyes flashing in his well-tanned face. He
always wore a nice exercise suite and a light t-shirt. Ksenia didn't
mind Dimitri, he was always nice to her and she never remembered him
being drunk. He loaned her father money and sometimes gave him vodka in
exchange for house hold items. He always gave her some candy. Recently
she had noticed him watching her. It made her feel awkward.

A quick rap sounded on the doorpost and then a young man stepped in,
not waiting to be admitted. Sergey turned to see who the intruder was.
	"Ah, Dimitri, what did you come over for?" Sergey grinned up at the
young man painfully, eying a large plastic sack that Dimitri carried.
Could he make out the contour of a bottle in the bag? Maybe two!
	"Hello, old man, off your binge yet?" queried Dimitri, offering his
hand. Sergey leaned over and shook the young man's hand, while waving
him in, offering him the seat across from him.
	"Nah, not really a binge you know, just a bit of fun. But I could
use a drink to help my head ache." Sergey rubbed his eyes, his hands
shaking as he did, betraying the fact that his  "little fun" had
lasted far too long.
	"You know Sergey, I'm not a philanthropist." Dimitri smiled, setting
the plastic bag on the table and pulling it down a bit, revealing its
contents. The bag contained a stick of sausage, a generous slice of
cheese, a small jar of pickles, a loaf of white bread, a plastic jug of
Baltic 5 beer and two nice looking bottles of elite vodka. Once Sergey
had a chance to register all the contents of the bag, Dimitri closed it
up again and removed it from the table.
	"A philanthi-what?" questioned Sergey, eying the bag as it settled
next to Dimitri on the floor. Dimitri could only partially mask the
disgust he felt for Sergey. With a patronizing smirk, Dimitri turned to
where little Ksenia sat, squatting in the corner near the brick stove,
obviously trying to make herself scarce. Reaching into his pocket and
pulling out several small caramel flavored sugar candies, Dimitri
reached a hand towards the girl.
	"Here you go, Ksenia, have some candy." Ksenia stood up and took the
candy from the man's hand.
	"Thank you." She mumbled, looking at the floor. As she took the
candy she could almost feel his eyes moving over her. She did not like
the way he looked at her, how his eyes wondered from her face. She
could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and a tingling of fear and
excitement ran through her. Sergey was annoyed at the obvious
distraction his daughter had become. He needed the drink that lay so
close and yet so far away. He needed to get Dimitri back on track.
	"Get into the bedroom and clean up, you beggar!" he growled out at
the girl. Ksenia scurried into the bedroom, glad to be out of reach of
her father. She was also glad to be secluded from the eyes of Dimitri,
if only by a thin rag curtain. She began to straighten up as the men
continued to talk.
	"No need to be so harsh to the child, Sergey." Dimitri said, a smile
in his voice, mockery in his tone.
	"I need a drink, Dimitri." Sergey whined, rubbing his hands
together, looking imploringly at the young man.
	"I said, I am no saint, I don't give something for nothing." Dimitri
said casually, looking Sergey in the eye, tracing designs with his
finger on the table. How desperate was the old man. He needed to
discover that, to draw him out.
	"You know I don't have anything. You bought a lot of my stuff. I
don't have anything left. Come on, have mercy, for Christ's sake!"
Sergey's tone of whining had declined to a whimper, making him sound
altogether ridiculous. What a man won't do for a good drink, Dimitri
thought, hating Sergey more with every word he said in his debasing
tone.
	"I wouldn't say you don't have anything," Dimitri smirked again,
glancing about the hovel.   You may have something of great value,
something I really want."
	"Well...I don't know...how about a hundred grams worth of vodka
while we discuss it?" Sergey bargained, rubbing his hands and running
his fingers through his disheveled, greasy hair. Dimitri waved his
hand, brushing aside the suggestion.
	"Yes, you have something of value, something worth the bottles and
the beer and snacks in this bag," Dimitri tugged on the plastic sack,
giving emphasis to his meaning. Sergey's eyes moved franticly now
between Dimitri's grin and the bulging plastic bag. The contents were
far more valuable than a lot of money. There wasn't a single merchant
in town who he could go to with money and get drink. He had large debts
everywhere. He could really have a nice time with a few bottles and a
bit of food to wash it all down with. He felt his headache getting
worse, his hands were shaking, he felt sick. He needed to drink. He'd
die if he didn't get some more alcohol!
	"Stop playing with me, Dimitri!" Sergey said, his voice betraying
his desperation and panic. "I need some drink. None of the stores
will advance me any more credit. I need to have a bottle. Come on, have
pity!"
	"How much are you willing to give me for this," Dimitri questioned,
toying with his prey, holding the bag up.
	"Anything I have. Anything!"
	"Anything in this house?" Dimitri glanced about, as though
inspecting the offered goods.
	"Yes, God damn it! Yes, anything!" Dimitri lifted the bag to the
table, and leaned forward as though he wanted to tell Sergey a secret.
His smirk vanished, the playfulness in his voice disappeared, his
features became hard and serious.
	"There is only one thing you have that I want." Dimitri's voice
was calm, almost sinister.
	"I SAID, ANYTHING. Name your price." Sergey panted. Dimitri nodded
his head in the direction of the bedroom, looking Sergey closely in the
eye, measuring up the drunk.
	"I want to spend an hour or so with the girl." His voice was barely
above a whisper. Sergey sat back, his head ceased throbbing, if only
for a minute. Had he heard Dimitri correctly? He wrinkled up his
forehead.
	"Did you say you wanted to have..."
	 "Yes, you heard me right. I want to screw the little girl." Dimitri
leaned back a bit.  "That is if you want what I brought."
	"You're a pervert Dimitri." Sergey couldn't believe it. This was
incredible. Unbelievable not only that Dimitri would want to fuck his
daughter but that he could even see that she was cute!
	"And you're a drunk, Sergey." Dimitri didn't raise his voice but his
tone was hard.  "Do we have a deal, or should I leave?"
	"You wouldn't really expect me to sell my only little daughter to
you for..."
	"You threaten to kill the poor little thing every day. Why not make
use of her? I want the girl. You want the bottles. It's as simple as
that." Dimitri waited a minute; Sergey's hands were shaking again.
"Or I can just go home."
	"No Dimitri, no...I'll...you can...I got to have a bottle."
`	"Do we have a deal?"
	 "She's just a little girl...I..."
	 "Make up your mind, Sergey. I won't wait all night." Saying that
Dimitri stood up, catching the plastic bag off the table.
	 "You...you can have her." Sergey barely mumbled out the words.
	 "I knew you would be reasonable." Dimitri set the bag on the table.
	 "You gonna take her to your house?" Sergey mumbled, reaching for
the bag.
	 "No fool, I'll do her here. What do you think people would start to
think if I took her to my house?"
	 "Here...?" Sergey was working the metal cap off of a vodka bottle.
	 "Yes, here. You have a bed, right?"
	 "Yah, in the bedroom, behind you." Sergey threw back his head and
took a deep swig of fiery drink.
	 "Alright, I won't be long then." Dimitri turned toward the curtain.
	 "Dimitri," Sergey said, his voice quiet, the drink just beginning
to settle in.  "Be careful. She is really pretty young."
	 "Don't worry friend, I'll be real careful."

Ksenia had cleaned up the little bedroom, spreading the coats and old
blankets on the bed and sweeping the garbage into the corner. She
didn't dare go out. She had not been interested in what the men were
saying until she heard her father talking about his "only little
daughter." Why were they talking about her? The fear began rising in
her stomach. She wanted to run away. Something was not going right, a
foreboding was settling over her like a thick morning fog. More of the
conversation came to her. Why would she need to go to Dimitri's house?
What does   'screw' mean? Be careful? What was Dimitri going to do?

She could see his form on the other side of the curtain. He turned, his
hand pulling away the curtain. For an instant he stood framed in the
doorway. She sat on the bed. He looked her over intensely, as though he
would eat her with his eyes. For an instant, Ksenia saw her father
looking past Dimitri towards her. But just for an instant. He turned
his head away and took another swig.

The curtain fell into place behind Dimitri. He stepped forward and sat
down on the bed beside her. Ksenia slipped off the bed, making as to go
but Dimitri caught her by the arm and pulled her around to face him.
	 Ksenia," he said, his voice overly soft.  "You are going to have to
play with me for a little bit." With his free hand he began to stroke
her hair. "I bought you for an hour or so and I need to play with
you."
	"I don't want to play..." She mumbled, looking at her toes, cringing
at his touch and wanting nothing else but to fly away.
	"You have to. Your Papa told me I could and you have to do what papa
says, right?" Dimitri placed a finger under Ksenia little chin and
lifted her head up, catching her gaze with his eyes. "You got to do
what I say, little one. No matter what." He almost whispered these
words. Ksenia felt panic rising in her, she wanted to disappear. She
had no idea what kind of  'playing' Dimitri had in mind but she knew
she wanted none of it. She wanted to hide.

Dimitri spread his legs and pulled Ksenia close. He held her firmly by
the arm with one hand while the other continued to stroke her hair and
face. He could tell the girl was afraid, that she was near panic. But
he also could see she had no idea what he was going to do. Why try to
explain. She would understand it all well enough in just a few more
minutes.

Dimitri had yearned for this moment for years. Now the time had come,
finally! He stroked the her hair, running his fingers lightly through
the loose blond strands that seemed so fine and delicate to him. His
hand moved with the natural flow of her hair to her back where he
marveled at the fine curve of her spine and the delicate fragility of
her frame. Her ran is fingers lightly along the bare skin of the little
girl's arm and once more stroked her back.

Dimitri released his tight grip and quickly embraced the child
completely, pressing her close to him, feeling the smallness of her
frame against his. He ran both hands along her back and sides, slowly
spreading his fingers, as though absorbing every inch of the little
frame. Ksenia gasped and began to shake almost uncontrollably when one
of those hands, grasped her butt. Dimitri massaged the tight little ass
slowly with one hand, then brought the other down and massaged her.
	"Papa, papa!" the little girl suddenly cried in anguish.
	"Shut up bitch!" came Sergey's voice from behind the curtain,
slurred with drink. "You're nothing but a whore any way." he
mumbled. Ksenia's last hope for rescue stood up and turned his back
on her helpless plight, turned his back and left the room, preferring
to drink on the porch, further away from the conscience prodding sounds
of his baby girl getting fucked.

	"Shhhh," cooed Dimitri, never letting go. "None of that now. You
be quiet and we'll have fun. If you keep this noise up I'll have to
hurt you, alright?" Dimirti used his sugar voice in saying this but
there was something about his tone, his hard hands holding her that
convinced the girl that Dimitri meant business.

The ever intrusive hands began to moves again. Dimitri ran his hands
around her and began to stroke her side and her chest. He pushed
lightly on her breasts or where they would be in a few years. Dimitri
pressed his thumbs into the little girl's chest feeling at the little
buds that had formed.
	"Please...no." She whimpered.
	"Shhhh, Quiet now." Dimitri sighed back, his voice not much louder
than the heavy breathing coming from his lips. He ran his hands down to
her waist and he took hold of the edge of her tight shirt. He pulled it
up. She didn't resist, every fiber in her being telling her that to
resist meant pain. He pulled the shirt up and off of her and breathed
heavily as he ran his hands over her now bare chest. The tiny nipples
beginning to stand erect covered in goose bumps. He ran his hands along
her sides and back, feeling the warmth of her body. He leaned forward
and began to kiss her chest, suckling on her tiny nipples, rubbing her
back and pressing her body into his face as he lapped on her. He licked
his way up to her collar bone and neck and finally her face. He put a
hand to the back of her head and began kissing her lips. She tried to
jerk away but a strong hand grasping her hair compelled her to still
herself.

Finding it little fun to kiss on unwilling mouth he moved back down. He
held her by the hips and kissed her chest. Dimitri was breathing hard.
He was shaking with passion. His manhood ached. He had meant for this
time to last but he simply needed to finish it; to be inside of her; to
feel her small body taking him in.

He moved his hands once more over her naked top, once more marveling at
the delicate beauty of the child. He took her by the shoulders and
pulling her around, laid her on the bed. He quickly stood up and
stripped off his sports jacket and t-shirt, revealing a muscular,
taught body. Ksenia watched with a mixture of disbelief and terror as
his slipped out of his slick running pants. He paused for a moment. His
boxer shorts tented out over his erect manhood, looking down at the
object of his lust.
	"I'm going to fuck you little girl," he said in a deep hoarse
voice. "I'm going to fuck you for all your worth!"

Dimitri quickly stripped off his underwear and approached the bed. He
leaned over the shaking girl who had curled up in a fetal position,
turning her face away from the approaching man. He gently but forcibly
pushed her into a straight laying position. He ran his hands over her
side and her chest, rubbing the little buds, like unopened roses, he
thought. He slid his hands down the trembling frame and grasped her
little shorts by the waist band. Extracting a little yelp of terror
from the girl he pulled the shorts down, along with her panties, in one
stroke, and discarded them on the floor.

"Please no, please stop!" the naked girl almost screamed, trying to
cover herself with her hands, curling up again. Dimitri quickly grabbed
her arms and pushed them down, pinning her flat on her back on the bed.
He then forced her legs apart with his body and lay out on top of her.
She trembled and shook under him, her little convulsions driving him to
deeper levels of passion. The time for words was over.

He felt her little body under him. Her warm, small frame so helpless
yet so fresh and perfectly toned. Her whole body shuddered as though
she were containing some convulsive sobs.  Dimitri frantically began
kissing her face, her neck her chests, his hands running along her
side. He moved lower, feeling her thighs and legs, back up to her sides
and chest, those buds of breasts to be, a little flesh so perfectly
silky!

Dimitri had longed dreamed of this moment; he had dreamt of making his
first time with a preteen girl last. He had imagined that she would
suck him, and that he would eat her, then he would screw her brains
out. But now, with the trembling nine year old naked beneath him, her
legs spread by his lower body, her petite little arms held firmly by
his hands, he found he had very little control.

Dimitri quickly, panting heavily now his organ dripping pre cum, ran
one hand down Ksenia's front, and slipped between her legs. He
fondled her a bit, causing the girl to squirm and writhe under him. She
was wet too, aroused at such a tender age. Suddenly he couldn't wait.
He couldn't take it slow.  He had to have her.

He slid down a bit, sitting up slightly on his knees. He put his left
hand firmly on the girl's chest, one of her little nipples between
his thumb and forefinger, and took hold of his member with his right
hand. He leaned forward, aiming at the tight little hairless bulge of
flesh, pushing her legs apart with his knees, Dimitri pushed hard on
Ksenia.

The first attempt slid up her crotch, Ksenia was growing more frantic,
almost thrashing about. Dimitri held himself for the next shove, this
time bending low over the girl and sliding his whole body forward. His
thick man-meat struck the tight folds of the virgin child's entrance,
and penetrated. Dimitri groaned, he felt as though he was shoving his
cock into a tightly squeezed fist.

Ksenia suddenly grew still. Her eyes bulged and her mouth gaped open.
She breathed in a huge gulp of air, as though by expanding her lungs
she could somehow make room for the intrusion below. She lifted her
head off the make shift mattress, and tried to see where the intrusion
into her tiny body had been made, But Dimitri covered her, his head
almost on her shoulder.

O my god, o my god, o my god, kept screaming through Dimitri's brain.
He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, waves of spasms running
through his body. The tiny vagina entrance held his cock so tight he
felt like curling up around her, his arms and legs twisting
involuntarily. He felt the virgin barrier to his progress. He quickly
slid both hands under the child's shoulders, and holding her by the
shoulders, his hands behind her, himself prone on top of her, Dimitri
pulled her down and slid heavily forward and in.

Ksenia screamed and began to cry. Dimitri rolled his head in ecstasy,
groaning, gritting his teeth and gasping for air. The child was
sobbing, she was pushing up on him but he hardly noticed. Dimitri
pulled out as far as he dare and rammed in, grinding into her preteen
womb, their pelvic bones meeting. With every thrust forward he pulled
on the child; she raised her head, eyes spreading wide, mouth gasping
for air every time Dimitri slid into her.

The sensation of the lithe nine year old pinned beneath him, impaled on
his cock, her tighter than explainable vagina clamping spasmodically on
his cock, her smooth, flawless flesh pressed against his own hairy
chest, her hands grasping him, her legs thrashing about him, her little
body rising and falling in his arms with every stroke drove Dimitri to
climax far too quickly. Slamming himself deep into her he suddenly
groaned and gasped through puckered lips as his whole body tensed and
relaxed, ejaculating stream after stream of semen into the tiny womb.

Ksenia's vagina clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed around
Dimitri's cock, milking it of his semen. He panted, licking her face
and ears, running his hands through her hair and along her body. Ksenia
panted and cried, her little body shaking under the weight of her first
man.

Sergey stood in the kitchen, looking at the two coupled obscenely on
the bed, his senses befuddled by the alcohol. His daughter was a woman.
He was hard and toyed with his pant zipper.

Two men were passing the little house on the outskirts of town. They
were dressed in fishing gear, with tall rubber boots and mosquito nets,
fishing tackle and poles slung over their shoulders. The sounds of a
young girl's sobs and cries of pain came muffled from the cabin.
	"Old drunk Sergey beaten' the kid again," said one, turning his
head slightly towards the cabin.
	"Some one should report him." Said the other, glancing at the
cabin, and then to his friend.
	"Maybe." Said the first. "I have enough problems of my own
though, you know?" The topic changed to other unimportant things,
other things, and other lives. The two walked down the steep bank and
up the river. They passed a little girl who was playing with a toy
boat. She said hello politely and they returned the favor. The two
walked on down the river. Natasha swatted flies and played for a few
more minutes. Ksenia hadn't come; Natasha couldn't wait for her
friend any longer, she had a mother at home who would be waiting for
her. She had to get home to other things.


_____________________

Love? Hate? Criticise? Share? Write me at: bigguy2005 @ mail.ru

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