My Cold Leader

Life Imitates Art

Throughout the years, I had wondered to myself where exactly am I going to take myself. My family was poor, I didn't have any good traits to get me a good education and I had no desire to work in an office or a school. I had to move, motion to me was pure poetry and you could tell alot by somebody's movements, body language and posture. I did recreational (forced by my parents) ballet and was taught by a family friend for a discount price. Ah, for sure the body could talk and tell stories of thier own. Before writing this I remembered every scar on my Vladimir's body and he knew every one on mine.

As a young and nieve girl I was facinated by the notion of romance. What was romance, to be exact? Is it just merely a desire for the flesh of another man? Or was it something much deeper? An entwining of the body, mind and soul. Two separate humans fused into one spirit. Sitting in the corners of my dimly lit bedroom I shared with my two siblings, I often pondered this question in my mind. Even during chores, school and dance, the thought of love from an older man plauged my subconscious. It was a desire I did not realize I possessed until i was thirteen. Your average Nymphet.

Standing in the tiny apartment room of my Ballet teacher's empty living room, I felt the fire burn inside of me from a strange origin. I never felt it before as I felt his hands creep up my thighs as I practiced my stretches, (a scorpion to be exact), I arched my back and tilted my head towards my thigh as my two arms hung above grasping my right leg. "Very Well, Very Well." He observed my body, and being in his presence for the past five years, I felt this desire for him. Instinctively, church bells rang in my mind and then I was reminded that the feelings of such desire can poison your soul. "Your posture could use some improvement, however, you are perfectly poised and balanced." He grinned. My heart sped as I gazed into his brown eyes. I wished for him to stroke me again.

That day never left my mind, I felt as if there was something wrong with me, and maybe there was. The girls my age were chasing boys their own age meanwhile I crammed secret feelings inside of me towards men who were old as, or older than my own father. I wondered why this affected me out of the rest of the female population, and was I the only one to be exact? Was this only human nature? Is human instinct a dangerous path to pursue?

At fifteen, I knew for a long time about Vladimir Putin. I remembered paying attention to issues i heard my family members hollaring in the kitchen about. I remembered seeing his heavenly face on magazines in the grocery stores, i remembered being twelve years old, and wishing intensely for him to own me. In my deepest dreams due to my wish to be dominated and how poor I was, I wished I could be in an arranged marriage with him. Ah, how blissful to the senses that would feel. Being twelve, I imagined an entire wedding ceremony as being his young bride, having the ceremony in St. Petersburg and then having an extravagant ceremony in the palace there. Then afterward, him taking me to wherever he lingers and taking my body and soul forcefully in the sweet and bitterly cold midnight. This fantasy is re-occurring.

Now at my age of eighteen, I was struggling financially and now my only choice was to marry. Yes, there were other girls my age and just as poor living independantly, but the primitive side of my soul wished to live luxurious, but within reason. I wanted to feel how it felt to fly in an airplane, live in a not crowded home and travel. To feel no restrictive boundaries around your soul that wished to wander so. But on the date of October, 4th, 2018, (close to my lover's birthday) I recieved news that changed my life forever. A man that was in close relations with my family, and the president himself, made a recomendation for me to do a menial job for the president. The man said I could do anything, he knew indeed i needed money and from what i hear from my papa, that this man painted a picture of how i was struggling and that Vladimir sympathized, then offered the position to be a maid at his palace. I felt a jolt of electricity jolt through my body when he told me such news.

...

A week of cleaning in his palace I havent seen the man once, I understood that he was busy and that this was a very, very large house to inhabit but I longed to see him in the flesh. My soul longed for it. Everytime I heard the shuffling of footsteps in the house, I immediatly shot into a pose where I felt I appeared poised and slimmer. Every single break of my work, I checked how I looked, I studied my appearance so intentivly that I could make out every little hair that was out of place. I had a burning desire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire. I was dressed in my finest clothing, and I made sure I prepared myself for when I would see him.

After a month of working there, the closest I have been to him was when I tided up his extravagant bedroom. His house was a peice of art constructed for the Tsars, every movement and sound Vladimir made was as beautiful as poetry or art. Ah! I even noticed I was having some strange tendancies, while making his bed, I wished to smell the sheets, and I did. He had an alluring and attractive scent to him that was difficult to explain. I shamed myself for feeling as obsessive and compulsive as a stalker. I wondered if he could smell my perfume wafting in the rooms. My scent wasnt strong, it was just the right amount of fragrance.

The very day I first saw him I nearly had a heart attack. He walked past me, his left thigh brushed my behind as he quickly paced towards his bedchamber as I dusted off the elegant lamp that was placed on a grand coffee table. His scent met my sense as the air pressure from him walking by carassed my face. It was late at night, just the time I imagined him passionatly squeezing me and holding me down beneath the cold and starry sky. My cheeks turned red as borshch, and I rushed home.

"Will he ever acknoledge my presence? Well, most likely not. I am nothing more than a peasant to him, and that is what I have to expect." I felt there was nothing alluring or seductive about me. I was flexible with a slavic face, porceiline skin and plump cherry lips but there was nothing noticable. Compared to other girls in Russia I was a rat being compared to a swan. I tormented myself with this for days, I even heard him talking on the phone, the words came to my mind, "When you talk it's like a movie and you're making me crazy, cuz life imitates art. If I get a little prettier can I be your baby?"

"You tell me life isn't that hard."

Closing my eyes, I imagined a snowy day outside. I longed for winter to come even though they were so harsh, long and dark. Days were already growing rapidly shorter and I wanted the city to be eveloped in the night. The night was the most elegant time and the most beautiful. I hummed quietly to myself while wiping down a table that hasnt been used in weeks. I was thinking so deeply, I didnt realize how close I was to the fire of my soul. I felt a gentle tap against my shoulder. Spinning around gracefully as I should, my eyes met his. His beautiful light blue eyes, fear spread to my limbs and I felt paralyzed. He began to speak. Yes, the Slavic God did speak, "Hello. I believe you are Y/N? You were reccommended to work here by a close friend."

I spoke, "Hello, yes I am Y/N." I struggled to remain control and precision over my voice, "I enjoy working here. I thank you very much. I feel much gratitude." I sent him a flirty smirk subconsciously. My fingers shook. I felt like an idiot for what I said.

"Very pleased." To my surpise he smiled, quite a bit, while holding strongly onto that dominating and powerful appearance to himself. He observed me quit intensly, and I struggled to keep my eyes off of him. My blood was racing. "It's very nice you enjoy working here." He reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, I struggled to avoid eye contact because I considered it rude but it was so hard not to look at him. It was like staring into the sun, a beautiful star you want to gaze at and into but you can't. The feeling of his strong hands grasping my right shoulder sent a blissful and indulging emotion throughout me. He spoke and his voice echoed in my mind, "See you around some other time, yes?" I nodded submissivley, and I prayed so.