The Devil's Dance

**It is the 1917 in the heat of the Russian Revolution. After a particularly bitter fall out with Borya, Natasha finds herself in the arms of another man. Now, they both need to work to resolve their differences or risk losing everything they've built together**

Natasha looked down at her desk as Borya narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to say something. He already knew the truth would be terrible, no matter what it was. They had always been able to work out their differences even if their emotions were in tatters for a while. But this time was different. She had refused him, and would not give in even to keep the peace, to keep the sanity. She had lost her sense of forgiveness and had completely lost her patience. Standing there staring her down, he knew in his heart he had finally broken something inside of her, and he felt a great shame, but stood firm to somehow get her to admit to some great guilt on her part.

"Natasha?" he asked, more sternly, but with a hint of fear. The answer was taking far to long to come.

She looked at him bitterly, whispering in a low, angry voice.

"What do you want me to say, Borya? Do you want a notated report on what happened Friday night after the show?"

Borya closed his eyes and dropped his head. His fists clenched and he slowly shook his head, trying to digest the reality of what was going on. After their ugly disagreement, Borya had decided to attend the art show and ended up witnessing Alex flirting with Natasha and then escorting her, all too willingly, into the reception area and out of his view. Borya had gone to keep watch on his rebellious lover and there he witnessed one of his biggest fears- losing her to another man.

The truth was, Borya had taken it one step further. When he was done nursing his beers in the back of the café, he had returned to his office and sat trying to work for several hours, then summoned a driver to take him by her apartment. It was after eleven in the evening and the lights, and her little candles in the window, were not lit.

"What, did he take you to a hotel?" he said, almost choking on the words.

"He did not "take me" anywhere. I went to meet him," she said, letting out a sigh of exasperation. He was only torturing himself, but he had to press on with the interrogation.

"Oh Natasha.." he said desperately, closing his eyes. "Alex, of all people. Why?"

She averted her gaze to the desk. His eyes were so blue, she thought to herself. She could not say what she meant.

"And you did know he's a man-whore, don't you?" Borya went on. "He has a weakness for any pretty woman that will pay half attention to him. And better yet if she's any sort of artist or writer. You DID know that, didn't you? You simply checked all of his boxes."

Natasha fired back.

"I do not care. I do not care what he has a weakness for. I do not care if I ever see him again. He was simply there for me when I needed him...there for me...when you were not."

"I was at that show!" Borya said, starting to flush red.

"Yes, spying on me, like an idiot!"

Her words bounced off the walls and made him cringe. It had been a dreadful night full of humiliation. It seemed no matter what way he tried to take a shot at her, she was well shielded with confident words that blew apart any attempt to break her down. She had displayed guilt or shame about her actions. And this was simply unacceptable.

"You ran off with him so quickly! Have you no remorse..no feelings?" His thoughts were starting to run wild as the reality of her decisions and her lack of regret were becoming very evident. Alex's cock...another man's cock, had been inside of her, inside his private place! Alex's hands and mouth all over her breasts, the only thing in the world that brought him any peace. Defiled!

He pulled off his cap and wiped his forehead as he felt himself starting to overheat and sweat. He started to pace, back and forth, back and forth, wordless, for once. She warily watched him as he paced like a cat, then suddenly turned to face her, asking her the question every man wants to know, but no man should dare to ask.

"Was his cock bigger than mine?"

Natasha closed her eyes, unwilling to answer. "Stop doing this to yourself, Borya."

"Doing this to myself??" he cried. "Natasha...haven't I been good to you...as good as I can be? I've given you a voice here in the capitol, we've been more than lovers for over three years, we've been best friends. Doesn't that alone qualify me for some loyalty?"

"Loyalty?" she scoffed, still trying to hold steady. "This request coming from a married man."

"You know Narina and I have not been intimate in years," he went on. "She is ill and has been for some time. I explained to you all of this. She is aware of our arrangement and...is willing to live with it."

"But you will not divorce her for me."

Borya sighed.

"No, I will not leave her. I respect her and the work she does tirelessly for the cause. And I have hardly gotten the impression that married life was ever part of your plan for yourself."

"So you have two women in your pocket, and I cannot have two men?"

"I do not have relations with my wife!" he nearly shouted, trying to break thru to her.

Everything kept returning to sex. What it really boiled down to was his exclusivity with Natasha, and his inability to see her fling with Alex as anything but an invasion into his territory. Natasha indeed was the only woman he was sleeping with, and because of that, regardless of his marriage, he felt she should be true to him. He completely seemed unable to see it from her point of view. He didn't understand how his demeaning, dismissive comments had suffocated her, and how his narrow mindedness had driven her away.

From across the desk, he lay down his cap and reached for her hands. She did not pull away as he took a deep breath and got his emotions under control. Then he spoke, sadly, slowly.

"Does our intimacy mean so little..? Is it not sacred somehow, in itself alone? I have never solicited another woman since we met. I've never needed to. You give me everything."

For the first time Natasha felt an ache in her throat as she listened to him recount their experiences together.

"You reopened a part of me I had shut down for years. So many private things I would not share with anyone, and then here you come into my life, as if you already knew me."

He went on quietly.

"The music you played for me the first time we met. How did you know, of all things to play, that it alone would touch my heart? And how you smelled of cupcakes, do you remember? You were my little cupcake. I felt so silly that night, like a schoolboy reawakened. I was so excited to see you again."

Her defenses were still in place as he continued, although now pangs of guilt were starting to tug at her heart.

"If you can no longer endure me, then you are free to go. I won't stop you. I will even give you my personal recommendation if you need it for a new position elsewhere. But I cannot have you here at the capitol, under my watch, carrying on with another man. I just could not bear it."

He stopped speaking, clutching at his cap. He could not get any more words out. Just telling her, out loud, that she was free to go...just saying those very words broke his heart. It was a scenario that in so many ways seemed so unthinkable. They were so good together, and yet as fast as a train it had come, crashing into them both and sending them reeling. She saw tears forming in his eyes, although he struggled to hold them back, dreading to show any sort of weakness.

"But I have lost so many people I have loved already...just the thought of losing you....."

"Love?" she said, surprised. This is the first time either one of them had ever said the word. "Is that what this is about?"

Borya stood and looked at her incredulously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice wavering. "How can you even ask that? Have you felt nothing for me all of this time? Perhaps you haven't, considering how fast you ran off with that pompous, vain alley cat."

"And how better are you?" she snapped. "The way you spy on me, staring me down like you do. You become a stranger to me in those moments..a frightening, unfamiliar man that I don't even know! How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't know it frightened you." he said, genuinely taken aback.

"And your complete indifference to my creative passions. How many times must I be insulted by your dismissal of my artistic endeavors? It is beyond my understanding."

Once again they were at each other, when just moments earlier it seemed a breakthrough could have happened.

"I am not indifferent!" he shouted, exasperated. On this point he could not understand her. "Natasha, seriously...how are we to get anything done when our priorities are not in line? The cause MUST come first! You have always been a stubborn girl. But now you are just being ridiculous!"

Her stomach was turning. She had had enough, they were just going around in circles now. Grabbing her briefcase, she moved past him towards the door. He looked up, realized where she was going and quickly moved in front of the door, blocking her exit.

She stopped and looked at him in disbelief.

"You just told me I was free to go."

"You are not going anywhere."

"Move away from that door."

"I am the leader of this country and I am holding you prisoner of the state!"

She looked at him, shook her head and tossed her briefcase onto the desk. Now she had heard it all. She stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised very skeptically.

"Natasha...." he pleaded wearily. Of course he did not mean it. He just didn't want her storming out the door and down the hall again like a repeat of the previous week.

"Listen to me. Listen, please. I was a fool for stalking around watching you. It's a ghastly thing to do and I never meant to frighten you. And it all went so terribly wrong. There will never be a repeat of that evening."

He closed his eyes, pulling all of his negotiating skills together as he was close to once again having Natasha walk right out on him for the second time. He gathered his strength for one of the most important speeches he would make.

"I am just going to say this once and with complete frankness. I love you. I have loved you since the moment I first met you. I think a part of me would die if you were to leave. However, you do realize our party has initiated an uprising, and we are at the beginning of what could be a long, drawn out war, on top of the already ongoing one with Germany and their allies. Commitment, action and dedication to the cause, particularly now, is not an unreasonable request, is it? The last three years have simply been a dress rehearsal for the real performance, going on right now. Right this very moment."

Natasha looked down at her desk, absorbing his words. Alex had said essentially the same thing. But he had also told her to "work it out somehow." Not as easily done as said.

Again, he reached out to take her hands in his.

"You are free to choose. You can stay here and work with me, but you must understand the responsibilities you have decided to take on. Your free time cannot be guaranteed, and I am sorry that my temper has not made it easy for me to articulate that. "

He stopped for a moment, then finished his thoughts.

"But there is another option. You can pursue a new occupation, and a new man, if that is what you desire."

He stopped speaking and the room was silent for a moment. His words hung heavy in the air, but he meant them. It could be no other way.

At last, Natasha looked up and replied.

"Alex said you cannot win this war without me."

Even in his disgust over the recent events, he had to concede to Alex's logic.

"The bastard may very well be right about that."

Natasha looked at him, then walked around her desk and sat down. She pulled her briefcase over and opened it up, taking out a stack of papers.

"These will be ready for you to sign this afternoon," she said, quietly.

Borya looked at her, greatly relieved. Perhaps the broken parts of this unfortunate situation were capable of mending after all. It was at least enough to ensure the rest of the day would not be utterly miserable. With much on his agenda that day, he needed to get back to his office and be able to concentrate. At least some of the crisis was starting to right itself. He turned the key in the lock, removed it, and turned the knob to leave.

"I love you too," he heard her say, softly.

He stopped, turned, and looked at her. She looked very small there at her desk, a bit contrite, and very quiet. It was the first time ever she had spoken those words to him.

Again, she sent his emotions ricocheting from one end to the other. From frustration to fear, to great pain and anguish, love and yearning, then anger...and now this aching rush of relief and joy.

She got up and walked over to him, stopping in front of him. She too, was a tangle of feelings. Guilt, regret and some confusion over what she thought she wanted by getting so deeply involved with both Borya and the party. But she appreciated that he was blunt, honest and calm when he laid it all out for her. She reacted far better to logic than to shouting and barking.

They stood facing one another, watching the traces of hurt and pain and love in one another's eyes, both in full awareness that on some level, it was just never going to sort itself out entirely. So be it.

Silently, he held his arms out. Biting her lip, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she rushed into his arms, holding him tightly, her face buried in his thick black coat, her cheek pressing against his warm neck.

"I am sorry....." she trailed off with a sob.

"Oh Natasha......" he trailed off, holding her tightly. Just the feel of her, with her arms wrapped around him, was powerful enough to unwind all of the tension and upset that had gone on over the past week. Tears were flowing for both of them as they stood, still in silence, holding one another.

At last, Borya pulled back, taking his coat sleeve and wiping his eyes. He had to compose himself and get his day started. He took a deep breath and adjusted his coat collar, then turned to open the door. Before he stepped out he turned to her one more time.

"May I see you tonight?" he asked quietly.

She averted her eyes, then looked over at him, giving him a quiet little nod.

Walking down the hall to the opposite side of the building, Borya had the next order of business on his mind that needed to be attended to when the afternoon committee meeting was over.

***************

The committee meeting went on until the evening as plans were being laid out to ensure the provisional government was no longer a viable threat and to review maps of the areas that needed the strongest military reinforcements. Alex spoke thru much of the second half of the day, outlining strategies for the coming new year. When the meeting was at last over and the others filed out, Borya lingered in his seat writing notes as Alex took down maps he had set up for his talk. Once Alex and finished stacking the maps together and returned to his briefcase, Borya closed his notebook and slipped his pen into his coat pocket, then spoke up.

"Excellently laid out plans, as usual. On point and well organized."

Borya stood up, holding his briefcase and draping his coat over his arm. He walked over to Alex, stopping and looking into those self assured eyes he had known for almost ten years. Alex had, as a young revolutionary, been an eloquent, naturally talented writer for Borya's propaganda newspaper. Now, he was the military leader he needed to work with cheek by jowl to achieve his goals. His next words would have to be chosen carefully.

"You enjoy diving right into the heat of things, Alex. That is a fine trait to possess. However, I want you to heed my words when I tell you that there is some territory that is not yours to take. Some landscape that is not yours to roam about on or lay claim to."

Alex looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean?"

"Yes you do." Borya said. "Don't bullshit me. You are intelligent enough to find the metaphor in what it is that I say. Not everything in this world is yours to conquer, to possess. It would be wise for you to watch where you step, watch whose house you decide to open up and invade. A good leader like yourself would never think he could take advantage of a man simply because he has his back turned for a moment."

Alex's face turned an ashen white as he searched Borya's stern gaze. There was something very dark in Borya's eyes, something that momentarily extinguished Alex's normally arrogant nature.

Alex replied with a slow nod.

"Understood."

Borya then turned and exited the room, leaving the gifted man of prose without words, for once. He strode down the hall, putting on his coat as he walked. The next order of business was going to be the most important of all and was not to be put off any longer.

****************

Having been home for a couple of hours, Natasha had readied her apartment and herself a bit nervously. The events of the last week were significant. She went over and over in her mind her justifications for her actions, which were always followed up by feelings of guilt for acting so rashly. But then, she reasoned, this was not the result of merely one disagreement. This was the result of a culmination of many in which she felt put aside and dismissed. She also derided herself for managing to end up getting tangled up with a man who ended up plotting...and succeeding...in starting the revolution. She really knew how to pick them.

The candles were lit, the lights were dim and the hot water ready for tea. She could think of nothing else that needed readying. She would let conversation go where it would, and could only hope for no more heated discussion of the matter.

The knock at the door came. She went over to open it. Borya stood there, briefcase in hand and a solemn face. Quietly she let him in and closed the door behind him, sealing out the chill of the winter night. He set his briefcase down and took a look at her.

She was braless her nightgown to greet him. No layers of clothes or bindings or lace to have to undo. Of course, this was intentional on her part, to ensure he entered her home in a positive mood. The effect was immediate. He gazed at her big breasts under the soft fabric, her nipples pert in response to the cool air. His hand came up to cup the weight of one of her breasts, kneading it gently. He kissed her softly on the lips as he tenderly massaged her breast, then took his finger and encircled the nipple, making her sigh with pleasure.

Much to his relief, his cock immediately began to throb. For the last several days, he had not been able to get his cock to stand. It was as if it didn't exist. He had been so distraught with the situation he could not get in the mood to bring himself the relief he needed from his milk-full balls, which had been aching to be emptied. Finally, being invited back into her home with some sense of resolution at hand, and seeing her on display in front of him, had thankfully revitalized his organ. He was quickly becoming swollen and erect, his cock pushing eagerly in his trousers. He would be ready for tonight, the night he would reclaim her, and show her who she belonged to, and to fill her up like he never had before.

He stood there in front of her, with a hand cupping each breast, feeling them, reacquainting himself with their soft, full weight. For a moment, he simply relished the look and feel of them under her nightgown, watching the outline of their shape as he massaged them and gently pushed them together, making the tips of her nipples stick up nicely under the fabric. He was hypnotized by their soft, sensual promise and a deep sense of gratitude that his mouth would once again be servicing and worshiping them.