An exciting young man finally came to the village. Trajan was an artist and quickly made a few nice portraits of me. This was too much for my parents. They started following me and decided how long I could spend with him when I went to bring or pick up a music tape. That was a big mistake for their part, because since the biblical tale of Adam and Eve and the apple every sane person knew that forbidden fruit was the sweetest. But perhaps my parents did not believe the story, or maybe they were atheists. Religion is opium for the people, the communists would advocate and that is exactly what my parents believed.
Once they started to see Trajan was forbidden fruit I was even prepared to do the impossible so that I could spend more time with him. Artists are often special people, because they think in colours and patterns instead of words. What I found special about Trajan was the amount of chest hair he had. Surely a close relative of the apes, my mother would have said. But I found this beastly trait extremely sexy. It stimulated all of my primitive instincts.
‘If you can use me as a naked model?’ Even though Trajan studied at the Academy of Arts, I had not expected this question. At least not so soon.
‘If you want me to take my clothes off, then you’ll have to do more than just ask,’ I replied.
‘I want to paint you naked before I try to win your heart. Just imagine if I’m lucky, then our emotional bond will influence the entire painting. I want to capture you on canvas pure, without any ulterior motives.’
The same afternoon Trajan showed me round his studio. His collection consisted of portraits of a few people I did not know, a number of naked studies and many landscapes. During painting lessons at school I found getting the right perspective the most difficult thing to achieve. In Trajan’s landscapes the perspectives were so natural and striking that they seemed deeper and wider than the canvasses. I recognized the steep rock face that was conquered by tough mountaineers every weekend.
‘If you pose patiently, I will give you the painting that appeals most to you.’
I still hesitated, because I thought it was rather exhibitionistic to pose naked.
‘What will you do with the painting?’
‘I will hang it in my room. I promise that I will never sell it or exhibit it.’
I let myself be persuaded and took my clothes off, while he got his easel and brushes. I had no rational explanation why I did this. Why did I have this urge to experience everything I had not yet experienced?
Trajan’s voice interrupted my train of thought: ‘I was hooked on your smile from the first moment I saw you, but your breasts are even nicer.’
‘I don’t think you can compare those two things,’ I said somewhat irritated. ‘And I want you to concentrate, because I don’t want to pose for too long.’
He stopped talking and set to work.
The result exceeded my greatest expectations. I thought I was prettier in the painting than in real life.
Trajan was also very happy with his work.
‘Thank you for posing,’ he said and suddenly grabbed hold of my face. The taste of his lips worked like an anaesthetic. Trajan lifted me up and placed me on the couch where I had been posing. He slowly started to lick my toes. ‘A foot fetishist’ flashed through my mind, but it felt like a deep delight. His lips came higher and the warmth quickly spread through my entire body. His method was pushy and subtle at the same time, just like a roller coaster that slowly crawls to the top before diving down below at great speed. The climax was hidden down below in the depths.
I suddenly panicked that I was losing my mind in a labyrinth of lust and cast him a despairing look.
‘Don’t talk,’ Trajan whispered as if he understood my silent message.
‘Mer, please, I know you want me. I will do anything to keep you here. I will fulfil all your wishes.’
‘All my wishes? Then I want my own painting, not another one.’
He frowned.
‘I would rather keep it myself, but I believe I had already said yes.’
For the next few minutes I let myself go and enjoyed the intense pleasure flowing through my body. His touch brought out the nicest and most primitive feelings in me. Perhaps I would have to pay an emotional toll later for my bodily pleasure, but at the moment I did not want to think about it.
‘What if your parents come to pick you up?’ Trajan suddenly asked.
‘Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you. I don’t think my parents would come into a stranger’s house to call out to their daughter. They don’t consider that polite. I think I will get into big trouble for coming home late, but it’s worth it. The worst thing that can happen is that we will not be allowed to see each other anymore. But my parents have been checking on me for a while and we have nowhere to turn. Something has to change. Sometimes you have to risk everything to get somewhere. Unfortunately, you can also lose, but these are the rules of the game.’
‘What’s the chance that this will be our last time together?’ Trajan asked.
‘I have no idea. That also depends on my parents’ mood.’
It felt like the last time. Trajan whispered sweet nothings in my ear. After his warm fluid spread out over my stomach, our bodies continued to shake for a while before they came to rest. Was forbidden fruit always so sweet? Would I ever see him again? I groaned in silence. My mouth still twitched from excitement. He stroked me softly and took in every detail of my body in deep concentration, as if he was scared I would disappear forever.
I stood up to get dressed. Even though I did not want to go home, I still hoped I could salvage the situation. I grabbed my shirt that he had thrown on top of a cupboard and saw the pistol.
‘Ha, now you’re mine,’ I joked. I grabbed the pistol and pulled the trigger.
‘Don’t, it’s real!’ Trajan jumped up yelling.
My hands suddenly went weak. Trajan grabbed the pistol and looked at it.
‘Luckily it was not loaded this time, but normally it has real bullets in it.’
‘Sorry, I was being stupid. I thought it was a toy gun.’
‘My uncle is a high-ranking officer in the communist party. That is why he is allowed to have a gun,’ Trajan mumbled.
It was a weird way to say goodbye. On my way home I realized that I nearly had a death on my conscience. The next moment my parents declared Trajan dead. I was not allowed to see him again. Because I realized my parents were deadly serious I accepted this.
In the same week, not only was my young love for Trajan wiped away, but also the centuries old hills in front of our house in Plovdiv. Not the high one with the granite statue of Aljosha, but a smaller hill where all the neighbourhood children played. There was no statue on the small hill in front our house and that was a good argument to blow up our playground. We weren’t sure exactly what they wanted to build there, but according to the rumours it would be one of the many cultural party buildings.
The police closed all the surrounding streets and told us to go away. A powerful explosion damaged the roofs and windows of most of the houses in the vicinity. I was surprised that I had not been injured, because it was raining stones where I was standing. From a distance, we saw a trailer from a truck fly into the air. It looked like a horrible action movie with a touch of science fiction.
My parents never received any compensation to repair the damages. Neither did any of the neighbours. No one dared to complain. They weren’t sure exactly where to go and what the consequences would be if they did. The worse thing was that it was all for nothing. We were left with a damaged roof and broken windows, but the granite hill was mostly intact. Only my favourite rocks had been blown away and with them a piece of my childhood memories.