Chapter 3: Kurai

I sat in geography class, staring at the map on the board without really seeing it. The teacher’s voice droned on about climate zones and prevailing winds, but the words washed over me like background static. My pen lay motionless on the blank page of my notebook. I wasn’t taking notes. I couldn’t.

Lissa had left the lesson early, murmuring something about an extra dance rehearsal. I stayed behind. A few days ago I’d twisted my ankle badly right before our trip home, and the sharp ache still kept me from joining her. So while she was moving across the studio floor, I was here — trapped with my own thoughts.

And those thoughts kept circling back to last night.

I had been sleeping on the top bunk when strange sounds pulled me awake. At first I thought it was the wind rattling the window or distant traffic outside. But the longer I listened, the clearer it became: these weren’t outside noises. They were soft, breathy moans. Low at first, then slowly growing louder, filling the darkness around me.

My heart picked up speed. I lay perfectly still, trying to convince myself it was only a dream or that I was imagining things. But the sounds didn’t stop. They were coming from directly below me — from Lissa’s bed.

I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Quietly, carefully, I climbed down the short ladder. The nightlight cast a faint golden glow across the room. The first thing I saw was her face. She looked ... peaceful. Almost blissful. Her lips were slightly parted, the corners lifted in a soft, dreamy smile. She seemed completely lost in something beautiful. Yet the sight sent an odd flutter through my chest. Her cheeks were flushed. Her breathing came in shallow, uneven little gasps. The blanket had slipped down to her waist, and I could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin T-shirt.

A strange warmth spread through me, tight and confusing.

I reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “Lissa?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Our gazes locked in the dim light, and for a second everything else disappeared. What I saw in her eyes hit me harder than I expected — embarrassment, shame, and something else. Something hotter. Deeper. It made my stomach tighten and my pulse jump.

She looked away instantly, cheeks burning crimson. “Just ... a weird dream,” she mumbled, voice shaky. “Nothing important.”

She was lying. I knew it the moment the words left her mouth.

Then she asked — almost pleading — if I would lie down with her like we used to when we were little. I said yes without hesitation. Of course I did.

But when I slipped under the blanket and curled up against her, I felt it immediately. Her body was burning. Especially her thighs, pressed tight against mine. And lower ... the heat radiating from between her legs was unmistakable. She was wet. The damp warmth soaked through the thin fabric of her panties and into my skin, impossible to ignore.

The memory refused to leave me.

No matter how hard I tried to focus on the geography lesson, the image kept returning: her flushed face in the nightlight, the way her body trembled against mine, the soft, desperate moan she tried to swallow when I held her close. And that kiss she gave me — so light, so tender, yet charged with something I couldn’t name.

What were you dreaming about, Lissa? I thought, biting the inside of my cheek. And why did your body react like that when I lay down next to you?

I didn’t have an answer. But the question burned inside me, quiet and insistent, refusing to let go.

The memory of my own intimate area pulled my thoughts from last night back to another moment — earlier, but just as vivid. It was the day before we left the dacha.

Nesti, Laina, and I had decided to go to the bathhouse. It stood near the artificial pond, and the forest path to it was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. A light breeze rustled the birch leaves, and bright sunbeams danced across the thick grass. We walked laughing and chatting, already looking forward to the relaxing heat.

Inside the changing room the air smelled of fresh birch switches and sweet woodsmoke, inviting us to undress. Nesti was the first to pull her T-shirt over her head and toss it into the corner.

“Well, girls,” she laughed, “last one in sits on the cold floor!”

Laina giggled and quickly shed her shorts, then unhooked her bra with a practiced flick. Her skin glowed softly in the dim light. I stood still, watching them.

“Come on, Kurai, don’t drag your feet!” Nesti teased, already bending to slip off her panties. When she straightened up, completely naked, I noticed her mound was perfectly smooth — not a single hair. Laina followed right behind her, stripping off the last of her clothes. She was just as bare.

Their laughing figures paused for a moment in the doorway before they disappeared inside.

“Catch up!” Laina called over her shoulder, but her words turned into a delighted shriek as Nesti grabbed a bucket of cold water and poured it down her back. The two of them burst into laughter and vanished into the steam, leaving me alone.

It had all seemed so natural for them. But a quiet wave of uncertainty washed over me.

A year ago, the last time we’d gone to the bathhouse together, our bodies had only just begun to change. We had looked almost identical — flat stomachs, barely-there hints of breasts, nothing to really notice. Everything had felt simple and familiar. But now ... everything was different.

Nesti and Laina looked like real young women. Their bodies had become softly feminine, with smooth, finished curves. Nesti had neat, rounded breasts, a full second size, her nipples a shade darker than I remembered. Laina’s were slightly larger — probably a third — and her figure was so perfectly proportioned and graceful that I almost felt a pang of envy. Their hips had rounded beautifully, and every inch of their skin looked cared for, silky, and completely smooth.

And me?

I still felt like the odd one out. My breasts were almost flat, just small, sensitive buds that barely lifted the skin. My hips were still narrow. And between my legs ... a thick, soft patch of light hair that I had never dared to touch, let alone remove.

Why didn’t I prepare like they did? I thought, cheeks warming. Why didn’t I even think about it?

The questions tugged at my confidence, but there was no turning back now. I stood there alone in the changing room, listening to their laughter echoing from inside the bathhouse. They looked so comfortable in their own skin, so sure of themselves.

Pull yourself together, Kurai, I told myself firmly. They’re your friends. They won’t care.

But even as I tried to convince myself, the unease lingered — quiet, stubborn, and impossible to ignore.

Finally, I pushed past the embarrassment and slipped off my panties. My legs felt strangely numb, as if shame had turned them to wood. I folded my clothes neatly, then picked up the things Nesti and Laina had left scattered on the bench. The simple, familiar gesture helped me steady my breathing.

I walked to the door and opened it.

Warm, fragrant air rolled over me — the scent of birch, herbs, and steam. Inside, the girls’ laughter echoed off the wooden walls. I tried to look relaxed as I stepped over the threshold, but my stomach was tight. My eyes kept drifting to their bodies despite every effort to look away.

Their mounds were perfectly smooth, as if they had always been that way. The soft lamplight glided over their skin, highlighting every difference. Laina’s was completely bare, with a faint rosy flush that made the delicate folds look almost polished. Her hips curved in smooth, symmetrical lines, and the thin sheen of moisture above her slit gleamed like something out of a lotion commercial. Nesti’s was slightly different — a little more rounded, the skin a touch darker, creating a soft contrast against her pale figure.

Why am I like this ... and they’re like that? The thought flashed through me, bringing a hot wave of shame and envy I couldn’t push down.

At that moment Nesti turned toward me. Her gaze dropped. Her eyes widened.

“Why are you still like that?” she asked, more surprised than judgmental, but my face burned anyway.

Before I could answer, she stepped closer, grinning, and playfully caught a few of my light curls between her fingers. She gave them a gentle tug.

I yelped — more from shock than real pain — and jerked back.

“Dumbass!” Laina snapped, spinning around with a sharp look. “You know how unpleasant that is? It’s like me pinching you right there!” She pointed downward for emphasis, then turned to me, her voice softening. “Sorry, Kuri. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Nesti immediately looked guilty. Her playful smile faded into something sincere and apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Kuri,” she said quietly, eyes full of regret. “I really didn’t think.”