The Adventures of Vladimir [+18]

Chapter 2 [The Bodega]

January 1978

Vladimir left the pub when the celebration stopped. It was already quarter to one and there was still noise coming from the fireworks that came after the grand one. All he did in the pub was drink booze and shouted "с новым годом" as the new year came. The people started singing "Auld Lang Syne" and he just listened yet tried to sing-along as if he knew the words. It was really beautiful in his opinion but no one can beat a good Soviet vodka drinking all night long in the new year's eve. 'I wish was as free as they are.' he thought as he left thinking about that moment on CBS when a lesbian couple kissed.* As he walks, he hums the song. That's when he met Gregorio. They were both humming the song at the same tune, at the same time. "The new years' spirit right?" the lion spoke in a Cuban accent.

"Da, stuck in my mind since I left the pub." he answered politely, smiling at each other, a little tipsy at that moment.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gregorio. Nice to meet you." he said while the tiger tries to compose himself, trying not to trip over.

"Vladimir. Likewise, fellow immigrant." he smirked and invited the lion to the rooftop of the apartment building. "Would you like to join me for some post-New Years' Eve drinking upstairs?" The lion gladly accepted the offer where they continued to talk. They became good friends that night.

"Why'd you come to America?" the lion asked.

"New opportunities," Vladimir replied briefly, handing an opened beer bottle to the lion.

"Same, brother. But... it's been hard for me. Thanks," he grabbed the bottle.

"Why is that?" Vladimir asked.

"You wouldn't understand." Gregorio implied. 

"Race? Religion? Sexuality?" without thinking, it stumped him. Why would he ask such sensitive topics for conversation starters. Gladly the lion didn't react with revolt.

"Kind of. Actually, my race enough would get me discriminated... I can't reach my goals unless I act like... you know... them," he argued. There is a huge difference when Americans are speaking or doing things, for one, Gregorio's accent would easily classify him as someone from the Caribbeans, as well as Vladimir's name would identify him as a Soviet.

"Well you don't have to, man. Stay true to yourself," the tiger insisted while sobering up.

"Easy for you to say." Gregorio whimpered, looking down the streets. "Do you have a dream, if I may ask?" he faced Vladimir.

"Escape my oppressors. Or maybe become a chef. I don't know," he answered.

"Neat." the lion briefly replied, chugging on his beer bottle again. The conversation had lasted for hours and hours. They talked about their lives back in their countries, they talked about the possible future of New York, their interests in music and films, they have laughed on their own jokes, taught each other words until the sun had appeared on their bright and alive faces caused by their talking. They even forgot about the time.

"Let's meet again sometime?"

"Agreed, but I should head home now,"

Gregorio left the building, went to the train station and headed home while Vladimir still can't make good life choices. The tiger was confused about himself and his emotions. "It's the beer and besides, it's new year's... you get the urge," he insisted. He went to his room and slept on the New Years.

NSFW CONTENT

February 1978

Vladimir's P.o.V.

There's a flurry of snow just outside the restaurant. Gregorio already wore his thick jacket, scarf, and mittens. I grabbed mine too and wore them. It was ready for us to leave our job. "We need to hurry, this might turn into a blizzard soon."

This is a bodega, a staple of a New York community. Bodega's are where I get my morning coffee but this particular one was new to me. It's what Gregorio recommended for our beer. It's really chilly and cold outside and I was advised by Gregorio to try the coffee in this bodega instead. "It's White Russian on the rocks. But instead of alcohol... its my own blend of coffee. Hope you like it, Vladimir." he handed me the warm old-fashioned glass as he stroll around the bodega to find the cheapest beer.

"12 bottles of Coors, muchacho." he paid for the beer and then we left. The winds are getting stronger and stronger. We ran to my apartment, it wasn't that far from the bodega. The neighborhood around us looked sketchy and utterly dangerous. Many rundown apartment buildings with walls covered in smog and grime, broken windows, some even abandoned. There's trash everywhere I look.

Edward Koch really improved the city, unemployment dropped, immigrants came flooding in, the economy boomed, but crime is still prevalent to this day. We both entered the building and good thing the landlord is asleep now, better hurry before he wakes.

"Woah man," he went speechless for seeing what my apartment is like. It had a patched up sofa chair and an uneven and uncleaned table. "Where do you sleep?" he questioned.

"There is a bed inside that room and I wrap it with two cheap bed sheets I found at the flea market. I wouldn't let the bed bugs bite." I replied with an optimistic smile. It wasn't easy with the itchy nights but it also wasn't easy with the cold sidewalk.

He placed the bottles of beer on the coffee table and we casually talked about life, family, the past, until we got too drunk that one of us passed out. It was me. I passed out after drinking six bottles. I was really tired that night as well. My eyes were drowsy and in the verge of closing until I felt a hand touching my body. I wasn't dreaming at all. His hands were closing in my chest as it enters my shirt. I was conscious but I didn't let him stop. I was already lying on the hard and cold floor as I'm seduced into doing it. He pulled my shorts down slowly and I felt the need to sleep, still felt his tongue touching it. It was too late. He kept toying with it until I released it on his mouth. I pushed his head to it again, I wanted more. I opened my eyes and saw the lust and passion on his actions. With one last bite, I spilled my load and it was like magic. He crawled nearer and nearer to my body and embraced me with a tight grip. "I'm sorry... this was wrong." he started to cry and I just gave him a hug back with a kiss on his cheek. "Why did you think it was?" I asked but before I got an answer we both fell to sleep on the frigid cold floor, or I think we did... Then, a blizzard came rolling outside and to God's grace, the heater broke and heated up the apartment like the midday sun on the Equator, like a warm blanket that did not exist.

A/N: The time and effort to research on the date and time this story is set is accurately costly just like how accurate I want the story to be. It's really hard to research even the tiniest bit like "We're there homeless people in New York?" "What was it like when February 1978 happened?" etc.

*The video was taken down on YouTube, sorry guys. The video of the lesbian couple in 1978.