Ukies--2. Olena, Kathia, Taras

2. Olena

The Loews Sheridan movie house was in the Village -- usually I’d go to the Loews Commodore on 6^th street but they weren’t showing the film I wanted to see -- so it’s off to the Sheridan. I had heard about the movie house -- in the evenings it was a pick-up place for boys and girls who were older and could stay out but I was still too young to do that and went to the day show and see a monster film I was dying to see, Monster of the Lagoon, I think it was. Not many people were there and I took a seat up front as the movie started.

Eating my popcorn I saw the credits going up in the murky smoky lights when I heard female steps walked down the carpeted aisle as they pounded and trod down to a much distant seat below me. High puffed blonde hair and a slim body in a dress instantly had my erection rising; all I could do was gaze at the shadow of her head below me.

I was slowly nibbling on my popcorn when a man walked down the aisle and took a seat in her row. I got still harder and I knew I’d better keep my hands away from my dick -- just last week I had been caught in the bathroom by a nun who was outraged over what I’d been doing to myself: jerking off…

After a while, maybe 2, 3 minutes, the man inched up and took a seat next to her. Man, was I hard! I looked around, just a few people whose heads shown up the movie light, and I wished I had a jacket or raincoat to cover myself as I unzipped my pants and pulled my hard stiff dick out…

I could just imagine she was doing the same to him…I came, spilling my jism on the floor as I saw the man buckle contorted in his seat. But the female seemed to look at him as the man sat helpless beside her.

“That is gross!” she squealed at him, and stood up and just walked away.

Oh my God, it was Olena! from my class in school, but she didn’t look like an innocent schoolgirl but a movie theater hooker. And I was right after her….

She stopped at the concession stand and was getting some popcorn when she saw me and her eyes went wide but she turned about as if not having seen me. I also nervously approached the concession stand. She was stooped over and retrieving some cash for her popcorn when I saw her face, a load of makeup and mascara that my wet dick got instantly hard again.

“Hi, Olena,” I said, “How you doing?”

She looked at me, her expressionless face looking angry, like she didn’t know me. She looked about her then said, “Yes? Did you mean me?”

I stared at her. “Olena,” I said. “It’s me, Kolya, from school.”

She scowled and looked over at the smirking concession guy and gave him her dollar to which he turned to get her change.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” and she put her change in her purse and went to the ladies room.

Bitch, I thought, and looked at the smirking concession guy, and left the theater. I didn’t care about seeing the Monster of the Lagoon, or whatever….

###

Andrey and Kathia

It was a match made in heaven…or maybe in hell…who the heck knew?

Andrey and Kathia were a couple ever since the 6^th grade, when pubescence was retreating and hormones were sticking it kicking in. Or so everyone thought…

At first the nuns in school kept them apart, after she had seen they were holding hands, but by the 7^th grade they were caught kissing and feeling each other so that the principal had to call their parents to advise them of the situation….Ah hem, cough cough…

They walked to and from school like they were engaged or newly married, holding each other tightly and both headed for their right place, in bed, or so we thought.

But by the 8^th grade the head priest of the church was informed.

Father Josephat was an old priest living out his life in a still and quiet atmosphere, who couldn’t be bothered about the trivia of the life around him -- serving mass twice a day then puttering about in his office and rooms.

“Where is Sister Superior?” he simply asked when informed of the outlandish teen children. “That’s her matter; she’ll handle it.”

But when told about the children were having sex in a back pew in church Father Jopsephat raged and fumed.

“What?!” he bellowed, and crossed himself, knowing this was the Lord’s way of testing his faith. The devils slick but not as slick as Father Josephat can be! he said to himself and prayed as the heathen children were brought before him.

Andrey was red faced and ashamed, not to mention he was frightened as well. But Kathia walked proudly as if she had done nothing wrong and was getting bothered by some kind of nonsense.

“You were in the Lord’s church!” he shouted. “Don’t you fear for your eternal lives?!”

Kathia yawned and looked at one on her nails. Father Josephat gripped Andrey by ear and dragged him outside, where the nuns awaited him. He turned back to Kathia and angrily sighed and collapsed into a chair.

This was not something that my old age can bear, he thought. I’m already too tired of and a younger priest was needed to look after.

“Since when is kissing a sin?” asked Kathia. “OK, I’m sorry we did in church, but it’s not a crime.”

Father Josephat stared at her, she was a nice looking girl; too bad she was so pretty. He shook his head. “You did more than just kiss, I’m sorry to say.” And with his awkward coughing he got it out.

“What?” exploded Kathia, and turned red and blushing. “I have no idea what Sister may have said but I’m a virgin….you can check for yourself,” and started unbuttoning and un-zippering her blue jumper.

Father Josephan coughed again and straightened up. “No, no,” he said, “a slight misunderstanding….get back to your class.”

Kathia paused in her disrobing and looked at the old priest. This was easy…too easy. She shrugged and didn’t take off her jumper.

“Thank you, Father,” she said, and bowed and returned to school.

Two weeks later school ended for the summer. It was discovered that Kathia was pregnant; they were certain who to blame…But Andrey was confused, he still was still a virgin….

###

After Olena

It was in the 6^th grade when I sat behind Olena and I saw her bra molded in her school jumper; I had a hard-on all day. I remember I didn’t know what I was seeing, some material in her clothes, but staring at it during class I realized it’s a bra I was looking at!

When class broke for lunch I bolted out of my seat and bumped right into Olena standing up. She scowled at me and gave me a dirty look that I interpreted as liking me. I dreamt of her that night, the bed rattling and shaking and finally fell asleep.

The next day was a Saturday, no school but jerking off most of the day. Parents were out, shopping, socializing, whatever, but I had thoughts of one girl, Olena, whom I had never thought of before. Earlier my sex dreams leading to masturbation were of girls I saw on the street, tight skirted teenage girls that I had passed by or their tight pants nylon molded in garters and nylons that proved they were getting bigger. The idea that a girl would wear nylons under her pants and showed the bulges off repelled some guys I heard talking about it but not me, it only excited me even more. But I never thought of the girls in class as sexual objects…but with Olena now I did.

Sunday was the next day. I got all dressed up for church and was on the street early, slowly sauntering along but my eyes peeled for Olena. Then I saw her, in a pink dress with frills, accenting her bouffant dress style that widened out from her narrow waist, and her breasts also widened out from bulkiness which hinted at the nice size within. I took a chance and speedily caught up to her.

“Olena, hi!” I said, hoping that my loose pants would shield my erection puffing out.

She frowned at seeing me and turned away but kept on walking. I caught up to her pace, thinking I’d sit with her in church, when near the doorway, Alex from high school, surreptitiously squeezed her hand and they both entered the church.

I paused in the doorway, nodded at other students hurrying in, then turned and walked away. I didn’t have a key to get home so I went up to the rooftop and masturbated up on the roof above the Lower East Side skyline. Wasn’t bad; I did it three times that morning.

###

Taras

Taras was certain everyone made fun of him, after all he was named after Ukraine’s national poet, Taras Shevchenko, and he felt he had to protect himself from the laughter and scorn coming his way, if there was any….

But it didn’t help that the poet’s Shevchenko’s picture was in every class with a great big one in the auditorium where his Ukrainian anthem, composed by him, was sung at every occasion. It didn’t matter that non-Ukrainian’s never heard of it; it had become a personal affront to him, an affront that made his blood boil.

Taras began to hate everything about Shevchenko, the long mustache of the hero drooping down his chin, and the Cossack hat roosting atilt on his head like he was going to battle the infidels who were trying to take Ukraine from him.

Zhche ne umerla Ukrainya “Ukraine is still not dead,” sang his anthem. Well, fuck Ukraine, thought Taras, this is America!

Taras had a plan: it started with him pissing in the bottom of walls where the poet hung and seemed to scowl at little Tarasik’s action, to actually taking and leaving his shit a few times on the floor. But that was no good; it only got the school talking and gossiping about what vile student could’ve done such a thing. Taras knew he had to leave one final big marking and evidence of his importance over the dumb poet and cease in his hellish antics, no matter how childish they had been.

One day after drum and bugle corps tryouts -- which he failed, “I don’t blow,” he simply said, not being able to gush forth a blast of air into the regimental instrument -- he found himself over looked in the auditorium by the other students and tryout coaches. This was his chance….

He took a chair and set it before Shevchenko’s portrait high up on the wall -- standing, it reached high enough for him to get it. Taking out a red crayon and scrawled the letter S….when the auditorium door opened and Father Gregory entered. He was outraged, putting two and two together he instantly made connection between the piss and shit that had defiled the sacred hero….

Well, Taras was booted from school, no need to tell you of his mother’s shame, and in later years he became a petty thief and purse snatcher. I ran into him on the Lower East Side. He laughed when the marking came up.

“I didn’t mean S for Shevchenko,” he said, looking at me. “The S was for Stalin. That would wake them up for sure.” Stalin, I thought, the vile despot who had killed millions of Ukrainians. But in Ukrainian Stalin was a C and Shevchenko a Ch but I kept my mouth shut…

I never saw Taras again after that; heard he was busted and went to jail or else had killed himself with too many drugs….Who the hell knew?

Zhche ne umerla Ukrainya! I suppose….

###