The official site of Ukrainian writer of fiction

The official site of Ukrainian writer of fiction





His name was Kostya Steshenko and he was having a hard time these days. He wanted a new woman so much that he could hardly control himself. Kostya worked in a big city, and every day he saw around him hundreds, even thousands of the most attractive and beautiful girls in the world.


‘It’s good for people abroad, in Europe. Someone once said that a pretty woman is a rarity there,’ Kostya sighed heavily. ‘How can I resist temptation when in my country of Ukraine, one in two girls is so sexy that the stars of Playboy and Penthouse are just ugly in comparison!


It is very easy to lose your mind because of the many miniskirts and revealing décolleté. What an idiotic fashion trend that is — now everybody can see a girl’s underwear, even at a long distance!


‘Everybody can see even the tiniest patterns on their bras, and miniature panties are just popping right up from their jeans! And why do they call these just symbolic laces as ‘panties’?


Kostya felt bad because he respected his wife very much. At one time he loved his wife Lesia madly, but even now, after six years of marriage, he had special tender feelings for her. Kostya was very afraid to hurt his Lesia because he valued their relationship very much. After all, he had nobody closer in the world than his parents and his wife.


But now, despite everything, the guy really desired any other woman but his wife. He was eager for someone else. He didn’t even care if she was a blonde, a brunette, or a redhead. The main thing for him was that she would be another woman!


Six months ago, a little daughter was born to their family. The parental concerns and problems that came along with this event reduced Kostya's desire for some time, but after the baby had grown a little and he had more free time, his lust came back to him with even greater force.


Spring came, and then a hot Ukrainian summer. The avenues of the big city were flooded with slender legs and bare navels.


Kostya felt defeated. He could not concentrate on his work, and his reaction to anything, except pretty women, greatly slowed. Even his old tricks to calm himself down did not help him now as they did before. Previously, whenever Kostya saw a seductive girl on the street, he was always able to cheat himself: ‘Well, what can I do? I can go up to her, introduce myself, but even if she agrees, what’s next? I'm at work, I always have many things to do, and my boss is permanently supervising me with his cell phone.’


But at last Kostya came to the point where any tricks to cheat his own libido were no longer helping him. He saw very clearly that the next time he found himself in a similar situation, he just would not be able to restrain himself. One day he would end up sending everything—his job, his boss, and even his wife, who he still loved and respected—straight to hell. The next time he would forget about everything and everybody, and like a mad deer, he would gallop toward any other girl he might see on the street.


One day, Kuzma, one of his colleagues, noticed his nervous mood:


‘Hey buddy, are you in love with someone? You’ve been looking like a madman during the last few days!’

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Kuzma, ten years older than Kostya, had very common manners. Most of all, he loved to pick his big nose, which was enormous like a Sumy potato. He also had chronic sinusitis, which everybody was able to smell even from a few steps away.


‘Well, so tell me, who is she? Who is your muse?’ Kuzma was obviously ready to hear an interesting story.


The smell of sinusitis is rather unpleasant, but Kostya was very glad that at least someone in this world took an interest in his problem.


‘There is no muse!’ he said, waving the question away nervously and sighing heavily. ‘I just want someone...’


‘You want someone? But what about your wife?’ Kuzma smiled a foxy smile.


‘Yeah, I don't want to cheat Lesia! I have great respect for her and...’


‘Oh, take it easy.’ Kuzma began to try to calm Kostya down. He even extracted his index finger from his enormous nose for a while. ‘I understand very well. But on the other hand, is it really a problem? Listen to me, I know one place in the city...’


@ Dmytro Bondarenko 2016- 2022