“Shura, I’m going to die.”

“No, Tatia.”

“Breathe on me…”

He breathed on her. She kissed him hotly, her hands not leaving his hair. The friction and pressure on her breasts from his fingers was making her delirious; she moaned with such abandon that Alexander moved away. Tatiana sat in the blue light, topless, naked to the hips, gazing at him and panting. Her hands were gripping the hospital sheet.

“Tania,” Alexander said, looking at her with wonder and lust. “How can you be so innocent in this day and age? How can you be so innocent?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I knew more.”

Moving flush with her, he held her to him. “Knew more?”

“Had more experience. I just—”

“You’re joking, right?” Alexander whispered fiercely. “Don’t you understand me at all? It’s your innocence that’s driving me mad. Can’t you see that?”

His hands caressed her. “Don’t moan,” he said. “They’ll have me arrested.”

Tatiana wanted him to—but she wasn’t brave enough to say it. Gently she pushed his head downward. The only thing she could manage in a stilted whisper was, “Please…”

Smiling, he went to lock the door. The door wouldn’t lock. He took his rifle and stuck it against the door handle.

Alexander came back to Tatiana, laid her flat on the bed, covered her mouth, bent to her breasts, and sucked her nipples until she nearly fainted, quivering the whole time and groaning into the palm of his hand.

“God, is there more?” she whispered, panting.

“Have you ever had more?” Alexander asked, panting himself.

Tatiana stared into his face. To tell him the truth? He was a man—how could she tell him? She didn’t want to lie to him. She said nothing.

He sat up, pulling her up, too. “Have you? Tell me the truth. Please. I must know. Have you ever had more?”

She didn’t want to lie to him. “No,” she said. “I haven’t had more.”

His eyes glazed with amazement, heartache, and desire, Alexander lowered his head and said, “Oh, Tania, what are we going to do?”

“Shura…” Tatiana whispered, having forgotten everything else in the universe. She took his hands and put them on her breasts. “Please, Shura, please.”

Alexander quietly moved his hands away to rest on her legs. “We can’t here.”

“Then where?”

He couldn’t even look up at her.

Tatiana saw he didn’t have an answer. “What about you?” she said, nearly crying. “Don’t you want more? Don’t you need something for yourself?”

“God, yes.” His voice was hoarse.

“What is it? What can I do?”

Smiling lightly, he whispered, “What are you offering?”

“I have no idea.” Tatiana timidly touched his thigh. “But I’ll do anything.” She kissed his neck. “Anything,” she whispered. “You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” She moved her hand a little higher. Her fingers were trembling.

Now it was Alexander’s turn to groan. He gripped her hand, and said, “Tania, wait—is this how you want it to be for you?”

“I don’t know,” she moaned back, licking his lips. “I want it any—”

Suddenly the door moved and light streaked into the room. A nurse’s voice sounded from the outside. “Tatiana? Are you all right? What’s wrong with the door?”

Quickly Tatiana pulled up her nightgown, and Alexander went to his rifle, picked it up, turned on the light in the room, and opened the door.

“Everything is fine,” he said, an air of formality enveloping him. “Just came to say good night to Tatiana.”

“Good night?” the nurse shrieked. “Are you an idiot or something? It’s four in the morning. There are no visiting hours at four in the morning.”

“Nurse! You’re forgetting yourself,” said Alexander, raising his voice. “I’m a lieutenant in the Red Army.”

Substantially more quietly, the nurse said, “I heard screams, I thought she was hurt.”

“I’m fine,” said Tatiana, and her voice was all croaky. “We were just laughing.”

“And I was just leaving,” Alexander said.

“You’re going to wake up my other patients,” the nurse said.

“Good night, Tatiana,” Alexander said, his eyes boring into her. “I hope your leg feels better.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Tatiana said. “Come again soon.”

“Just not at four in the morning,” the nurse mumbled, coming inside to check on Tatiana. Behind the nurse’s back, Alexander pressed his fingers to his lips and blew Tatiana a kiss. Then he was gone.

There was no more sleep to be had that night, or the following morning. Tatiana had Vera bathe her twice, and kept obsessively brushing her teeth and tongue all day to make sure her breath was clean. She had no food, only water to drink, though by the afternoon, she nibbled on some bread left over from lunch.

Tatiana had thought that guilt would overtake her, that the force of conscience would make her unable to face herself and her thoughts. But that wasn’t the case. The only thing she kept reliving was the evening minute on fiery wings with Alexander on her breasts and lips.

Nothing in Tatiana’s former life had prepared her for Alexander.

There was school and there was Fifth Soviet, and there was Luga. In Luga, Tatiana had had many friends and many endless summers of mindless adventures. In Luga there had been nothing but the abandon of childhood, and in every step of that childhood there was Pasha, in her games and in her days.

It wasn’t that Tatiana had not been occasionally and peripherally aware that every once in a while one of Pasha’s friends looked at her for a little too long or stood too close to her. It was that she herself had never looked too long at anyone.

Until Alexander.

He was new. Transcendentally new. Immemorially new. She had thought all the while that their instant familiarity was based on the things she understood—compassion, empathy, fondness, friendship. Two people resoundingly coming together. Needing to sit close together on the tram, to bump into each other, to make each other laugh. Needing each other. Needing happiness. Needing youth.

But now Tatiana could not believe her preternatural desire for him. Her suffocating need for him. Simply could not fathom it. The throbbing in her lower stomach continued unabated all day as she bathed and brushed her teeth and brushed her hair.

That evening before Vera left, Tatiana asked her for some lipstick.

When Dasha, Alexander, and Dimitri came to see her, Dasha took one look at Tatiana and said, “Tania, I’ve never seen you wear lipstick before. Look at your lips.” Dasha said it as if realizing for the first time that Tatiana actually had lips.

Dimitri came over, sat on her bed, and said, smiling, “Yes, just look at them.”

Only Alexander kept quiet. Tatiana couldn’t read his expression because she could not bring herself to raise her eyes. She realized that the consequence of last night was going to be her complete inability to ever look at him in public again.

They stayed for a short time. Alexander got up and said he had to be getting back.

Tatiana sat catatonically until she heard a knock on the door, and Alexander came in, closing the door behind him. She pulled herself up straight. He came over in long purposeful strides, sat at the edge of her bed, and in a tender, possessive gesture wiped the lipstick off her lips. “What is that?” he asked.

“All the other girls wear it,” Tatiana said, quickly wiping her mouth, breathless at the sight of him. “Including Dasha.”

“Well, I don’t want you to have anything on your lovely face,” he said, stroking her cheeks. “God knows, you don’t need it.”

“All right,” she said, wiping her mouth, and waited. Her head fell back on the pillow as she raised her expectant, earnest eyes to him, her expectant, earnest lips to him.

Alexander was quiet. “Tania,” he finally said with a great sigh, “about last night…”