Weekend in Kyiv

Chapter Two: Evening in Kyiv

Sascha pulled the car into the yard behind the National Opera House and we climbed out, the music from the nearby fairground injecting a party feeling into the air. It felt good to be back, I thought as I looked down the road towards the lights of Independence Square. Already, at a little after 7pm, the crowds were beginning to wend their way towards the heart of the city, and Sascha and I joined them making our way down the broad Avenue, now closed off to traffic allowing the party atmosphere to envelop the whole street. Sascha eagerly led the way, pausing occasionally to point out some place of interest. But for me, the major interest was still this perfect specemin of Ukrainian manhood. Stopping for a moment at the edge of the Square to point out the new wall of plate glass and marble which was the entrance to an underground shopping mall - "Very beautiful," he nodded, "but only for looking." - Sascha turned to face me, leaning against the elaborate railings, and, for the first time, I had the chance to let my eyes rest for a moment on the front of those well-cut black jeans and register approvingly the bulge which promised more delights beneath.
"Won't your wife be wondering where you are?" I enquired.
Sascha smiled another of his dazzling smiles, tossing his golden hair casually as he turned to look across at the Angel of Kyiv on her marble pillar. "I don't have wife. I only 26; I think still many years to enjoy freedom before I need marry."
"Girl friend, then?" I continued.
He shrugged "Oh, I have many friends."
"So, you live with your parents still?"
"No. My mother live in Bila Tserkva with my sister and brothers. I stay in Kyiv since finished University. More opportunity for make money."
Suddenly I remembered this was a tai driver, and I was a tourist with my fare still to pay! "How much do I owe you so far?" I asked. "Only I'll need to change some more dollars."
Sascha turned to face me, for once no smile on his lips. "Please, Andy," wounded sincerity somehow cutting through the traces of his accent, "I am not working tonight. I think we are friends - no?"
I blushed, and mumbled an apology. Nothing would make me happeir than to count this delightful young beauty as my friend. Well, almost nothing! I smiled sheepishly to myself, running a lingering glance over that shapely rear!

"Okay, so where's this pizza place? I'm hungry!"
The smile returned. "Ah yes, of course. You follow me."
He darted forward across the road onto the main part of the square. and we passed quickly through the small crowd gathered to listen to a lone guitarist perched on a high stool, singing a soulful tune reminsicent of Ukrainian folk songs.. A young guy, in his late teens I guessed, dressed all in black, his long black hair tied loosely behind him, his shirt open almost to the waist revealing a muscular chest with just a hint of black hair inviting the eye furhter in. Another time I would have stopped to enjoy this handsome gypsy's offering, but my beautiful golden-headed guide was beckoning onwards. As we emerged from the crowd, I was taken aback by a spectacular fopuntain - more of a water sculpture really - ahead of us. "That's new!" I remarked admiringly.
"Yes, very beautiul don't you think? You have a camera?"
"Uhu." I pulled my Pentax from its pouch on my belt, and he took it from me.
"I take your picture; please!" He gestured towards the fountain, and I struck a pose in front of it. "One moment." Sascha turned to speak to a young guy standing next to him with his girl friend and handed him the camera, then bounded over to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his muscular young body pressing close to my side. "That's better, no? he asked.
"Much better!" I thought, as I slipped my own arm around his waist and smiled for the camera, resisting the urge to turn and plant a kiss on his smiling lips, but allowing my hand to brush casually across his behind as we moved apart and continued on our way, across the square and up a nearby side street.
The pizza place was all he had promised; a tradtional interior of dark wood and flowers, with an elegant terrace out front, lined with metal tables and green sunshades, where we sat and watched the comings and goings on the street beyond. The food was excellent too - I let Sascha choose, the menu was in Russian and too extensive to translate - washed down with a bottle of hte slightly over-sweet local beer. Grudgingly, Sascha let me pay for us both - I had more than enough left from my $20 dollar exchange.

"And now I should phone Natalie, I guess" I said reluctantly as the waitress cleared our table. By now it was well after 9pm and getting quite dark, the lights along the street throwing shadows which made the whole atmosphere more enchanting. another flow of Russian greeted me - "Help Sascha!" I laughed as I passed over the phone. A lively exchange followed, most of which was totally lost on me. Finally, Sascha passed the phone back. "Your friend is still not back in Kyiv. she says very sorry but can't get home until maybe Monday. Her mother say you welcome to stay at apartment and wait. But I tell her I think better you come stay at my place." A cloud of concern crossed his face, "Maybe I make mistake - is okay with you or not?"

Okay? More than okay with me! Let's face it, given the choice between spending the weekend with a middle-aged Ukrainian woman with bad teeth, bad breath and no English, or with this charming blue-eyed god of a guy, which would you choose?
Obviously, Sascha misinterpreted my speechlessness as disapproval. "I'm sorry. you call back and I tell her I make mistake. I just think, you not speak Russian, so maybe..."
"No, Sascha, please! It's okay; I'd love to stay at your place! If you're sure you don't mind?"
Sascha's blue eyes lit up as his face broke into that now familiar smile once more. "Why I mind?" he beamed. "You help me practice English, I show you best places in Kyiv. We will have the greatest time. Only one problem though," The cloud reappeared again. "At my flat, only one bed. Is not good for you English people, yes?"
What had started as a pretty attractive idea was fast turning into a dream come true! "No, that's fine - honestly, I don't mind at all!"
I hoped I didn't sound too eager. I reminded myself that, in a country where large families commonly crowd into two or three room flats, sharing a bed was no big deal; brothers often grow up with no bed of their own until one of them gets married. Heck, Volodja and I had bunked together more than once at Natalie's after a late night eating and drinking - and that certainly meant nothing to either of us! Volodja was not only as straight as a die, but nearly 15 stone and balding to boot! But sharing a bed with beautiful blue-eyed Sascha would be another matter - no big deal for him maybe, but I had a feeling sleep would not come easily for me tonight.
"It's a deal then!" The smile flashed across Sascha's face as he jumped to his feet. "You stay at my house until your friend come back.. Who knows, maybe her car break down and she not back til next Saturday!" He laughed boyishly (little knowing how happy such a disaster would make me) and took me by the arm, dragging me to my feet. "Come Andy, we walk a while on the Khreshchatik, then I take you home to bed."