“No, you didn't offend me. Your remarks made me feel wonderful. I only ask because it happens so rarely in the US. Mostly people are more interested in criticizing what I have chosen to wear.”
“I have seen your photo in many magazines and newspapers, and I can say, I have never seen you wearing anything I didn't like. It must be tough being the president's daughter. In the US, you are akin to royalty,” Slava said.
“It is not easy, you are right. But I am privileged, and that is something I mustn't take for granted. Most people in the world are less fortunate than me, and I mustn't forget it.”
“That is an interesting comment, one I have often used myself. However, I believe everyone has their problems, and just because they don't have worse problems than others doesn't make it any easier.” Octavia was impressed by his thought. He seemed different, someone who rationalized, unlike most people she knew, who were uptight and always ready to criticize.
Slava knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn't drag his eyes from her. He loved black women, and he'd read many times about the president's beautiful daughter, but he hadn't realized quite how lovely she was. She was almost as tall as him, which made her five feet ten, although he noticed she was wearing heels. Her hair was combed to one side with long curls hanging down to her shoulder. He had the urge to kiss her neck. It looked so elegant and fragile. She was wearing a satin evening gown and a diamond necklace with matching earrings. He didn't want to look down at her body in case she noticed and moved away to talk to somebody else, but unable to resist, he afforded himself a quick glimpse. He'd seen many pictures of her in various magazines, and what he'd liked most about her was her beautiful shape. Her breasts looked heavy and inviting, and her hips and bottom were curved just as he liked. All the women back home in his social circle were tall and slender, with little bust and no hips. He was bored by them. Octavia was a real woman with all the attributes he craved. In fact, he would never admit it, but whenever he'd seen her picture in a magazine or newspaper, he'd stare at it for as long as he could.
“So what do you do, Slava? I mean for a living.”
“My father wants me to be a career politician or a diplomat like him. I am studying politics and economics at Moscow University.” Octavia noticed how his expression had changed when he'd mentioned his father's expectations.
“Your father wants you to be a politician. Is that what you want as well?”
“No. I want to sail,” he said, his eyes lighting up as his smile returned. “I love yachts, or, in fact, any boat. Most of all I would like to sail around the world and design breathtaking yachts.”
“And why don't you do that?” Octavia asked. “Sorry. That was rude of me,” she added quickly. “I'm afraid I already know the answer. You see, I'm in the same boat.” She stopped at the unintended pun, and they both laughed. “I mean my life seems to have a similar pattern. I'm studying law at Harvard, but I really just want to be a writer.”
“Really? What kind of things do you want to write?”
“Romance books. I love getting lost in silly romances. Please don't tell anyone, though. If it got out, the press would call me a lightweight.”
“I would never think you a lightweight, whatever you did,” he said. He was mortified to feel himself blush.
Octavia noticed, and she leaned toward him. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you so much.”
*****
“Hi, Slava. How are you?” Octavia asked as he appeared on her laptop. He looked every bit as handsome as he'd been when they'd met just a few short days before.
“I'm well. How are you? I can see you perfectly. Skype is amazing, isn't it?”
“Yes. Did you get back from the US okay?”
“It's a long way and a long flight, but I managed. I read some books and looked at a few magazines. You were in one of them.”
“Oh really? What was I doing?”
“You were interviewed about what it's like to be the daughter of the president of the US. It was interesting to read, especially now that I have met you in person. I liked the photos too.”
“Was I standing in front of a Christmas tree?”
“Yes. That's the one. Standing in front of a Christmas tree with a red hat on—a bit like one of Santa's helpers,” Slava joked.
“Thanks,” she replied ironically. There was a pause in the conversation, and then they suddenly tried to tell each other something at the same time. “Sorry, Slava. You go first,” she said.
“I just wanted to say what a lovely evening I had at the Russian Embassy with you.”
“I enjoyed it very much as well,” Octavia said. She wasn't wearing any of her expensive jewelry as she sat in her room at Harvard, but Slava found her just as stunning.
“Octavia?” he said, as if he were going to ask her something of the utmost importance. “What are you going to do when this semester ends in June?”
“I don't know. I guess my parents will have all sorts of tasks lined up for me. Why do you ask?”