My wife Sasha and I have a lovely life. We met when I was 26 and she was 23. I was finishing a doctorate at George Mason in stuff that I would have to kill you if I told you about.
Kidding!!! But you get the drift.
Sasha was doing a Master’s in Public Policy. We hung out in the same group. Actually, she was the queen bee in a swarm of male students and I was part of the fringe.
Sasha is a very smart and intellectually sophisticated woman. She just happens to be drawn like Jessica Rabbit. We met in a study group. I think she had fucked several of the guys in that group before she got around to me. But it rapidly became clear that we were the ones who belonged together.
It started with me making an obscure pun that only Sasha laughed at. The sheep looked confused. I explained the joke. They continued to stare bewildered. Sasha tried explaining it – bullfrogs and crickets ... She looked at me and said disgustedly, “Let’s get a beer.”
We drove over to Brion’s, which was a hangout for all of us.
Sasha is the essence of Slavic beauty. She wears her thick dark-blond hair in a braid that extends down her back to her lust provoking ass. That hair frames her perfect heart shaped face. And the face itself is flawlessly proportioned, with the full sensual mouth that seems to be a hallmark of classic Russian beauties.
But it’s her huge, soulful, ice blue, almost feline eyes that are her most striking feature. Those eyes are as mystical as a Karelian lake. And they reflect the heart of Mother Russia.
The rest of Sasha is lithe and exquisitely shaped. Dance is every Russian girl’s heritage – even if the family has been here for a couple of generations. Sasha’s training produced an exceptionally supple, narrow-waisted body with remarkably long muscular legs. Those legs carry her with special grace and athletic power.
Every man turned and stared at her when we appeared. And the other half of the population just seethed with jealousy. Sasha didn’t seem to notice. She was focused on me. But I was painfully aware that everybody in the place thought that I was outclassed.
I’m not a bad looking guy - I guess? If you like intellectuals – high cheekbones, thick shock of unruly brown hair, long nose and dark eyes. The only thing exceptional about me is my height. At six-four people just assume that I played basketball – since I look like the classic, skinny-white-guy-in-the-middle. But I don’t have an aggressive bone in my body.
I WAS a fairly successful swimmer when I was an undergraduate. But there are no million dollar contracts at the end of THAT rainbow. So I knew from early on that I needed a career. I got into the cloak and dagger business because I’m a nerd. And that is the first place all of the cool technological shit rolls out. Most people would join an Alphabet Agency. But I’m a thinker - not a doer. So I chose to study and teach it.
When our pitcher was delivered - Sasha leaned back in her chair. She said with studied casualness, “Are you as bored with those idiots as I am?”
I had two thoughts. The first was that her flawlessly shaped breasts looked amazing when she leaned back like that. Don’t judge me! All guys are sight-hounds!
The other thought was that there was a lot more to Sasha Averina than I had assumed.
She was certainly one of those rare beauties who glide through life on a magic carpet of pure sex appeal. But I was positive that I had detected a hint of anxiety in her voice.
I said guardedly, “Well – none of them is ever going to change the world. But there isn’t anything particularly wrong with them. They’re just average people.” She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. She did it so abruptly that I nearly fell off the stool. She said, “That’s just it. I am bored to death with average.” It was like she had been thinking about this for a long time.
She added - with odd intensity in her voice, “I want to connect, not socialize. I want to spend my life with a man who functions on my level. I want to be with somebody I have things in common with. I want a guy, who is capable of simulating me with his mind, not just his little winky.”
Then she paused and said with some nervousness in her voice, “And you are the first man I have ever met who satisfies me that way.”
Now THAT was a revelation. I sort of understood what she was saying. Because I had the same problem. I dated a bit. But none of those women was worth a second look. Cosmetics and dress can make a girl beautiful. But they can’t make her any smarter.
Sasha is a whirlwind of intellect, sarcasm, nuanced humor and fabulous insight. I had known that about her from the first minute that we had met. There would be long periods when we were the only people interacting. We would banter– throw out concepts and bat them around. We exchanged jokes and innuendo – and had some downright knock-down-drag-out arguments – all of that was part of the process of developing ideas.
In fact, if you had seen us together you would have assumed that we had been a couple for years – instead of strangers who met by sheer chance.
If Sasha had been a nerdette with thick glasses and a taste for homespun there would be no difficulty recognizing her underlying nature. She was a superior intelligence whose focus and inclinations were strictly of the mind – not of this world. Unfortunately, nobody saw that.
Instead they saw a beautiful woman. And a woman who looks like Sasha is stereotyped in a way that does not include intellectual pursuits. It must have been lonely being her.
I said, “From the beginning, I have understood that we are alike in many ways. And frankly I have always felt a sense of isolation from the rest of the herd. That is probably true with you too. But every man in this room is sizing up his odds of taking you away from me. While I can guarantee that none of the women are doing the same with you.”
I took her hand in mine and said with my sincerest expression, “I know how intelligent you are. So I’m not going to bullshit you. I’m a nerd. It’s all I have ever been - or ever will be. And I am realistic enough to know that beautiful women don’t live happily ever after with nerds. So it has never crossed my mind that you and I would ever be a couple.”
I added lamely, “If you want to hang out we can do that. There is no person whose companionship I value more. But that’s as far as it goes.”
She looked pissed.
I said puzzled, “What???!!”
She said, “I’m sorry. I misjudged you. I thought you were a man.”
Okay, now I was pissed, “I said what the fuck does that mean?? Is this some sort of dick measuring contest that I wasn’t aware of?”
She said, “I just offered myself to you and you came up with a half dozen phony reasons why I didn’t measure up. I don’t know what else to call it.”
I said with some heat, “Really???!! Seriously??!! You think that you and I could be a couple and you wouldn’t eventually want to trade up!!?? I just don’t believe it.”
She leaned back with total womanly confidence, gave me the hottest look that I have ever been given and said, “If you don’t believe it then why don’t you try me? I can guarantee that you won’t regret it.”
So I did.
And I didn’t regret it.
From that day forward we were a pair. And I never had a reason to question her. Neither of us were big fans of PDA. Sasha is a strong, self-reliant woman. She is categorically not into draping herself all over a guy in a submissive high school girl way.
And submissive would be the last thing I wanted from her. I loved her tough independent spirit. I think that was the reason why we were such a perfect fit from the beginning. She was a master of communicating to the whole-wide-world that she had made the decision to be with me and that honoring that commitment was important to her.
Together, we must have looked like Beauty and the Nerd. But our relative social disparity didn’t matter in the slightest to either of us. Since we were so perfectly matched in the world of the mind – which was where both of us preferred to be.
Our marriage was a foregone conclusion.
Saying that we lived a lot in our heads was not to imply that we didn’t mesh physically. Over the next twelve years we meshed a lot. I have always equated intelligence with sexuality. Smart girls have imaginations and inner fire. Those things come along with a mind that is limitless.
And Sasha’s years at the barre had given her an exceptionally round and lithe body, with the endurance of a prima ballerina. So she fucked me in more interesting ways than Messalina on hashish.
And she trusted me. I know that. Because, no woman could abandon herself in the way that Sasha did without having a high degree of confidence in her partner.
Occasionally she would get so wild that she would lather my ass with the TV remote - urging me on like a jockey in the home stretch. I started taking the small things off the bedside table after she used a hair brush on me. And I was STILL not absolutely certain that someday she wouldn’t grab the lamp as a riding crop.
THAT was just a typical Tuesday evening around the Schneider house.
There were no tricks. She liked it as deep as she could get it – legs spread in an exaggerated V - arms braced against the headboard trying to bang it through the wall – all the while moaning loudly and urgently.
She particularly liked it doggy style.
.... There is more of this story ...