THE YOUNG TIGERS AND THE SUGAR LUMPS

THE YOUNG TIGERS AND THE SUGAR LUMPS

By Siromah

A small resort on the Adriatic coast.

The train was rolling slowly to the south, winding like a snake between the rocks. The last three coaches were filled with teenagers from the Vladimir Ilyich Lenin High School in Sarajevo. They were going on a one-week vacation on the Adriatic.
There came another tunnel. The girls shrieked hysterically in the pitch-dark compartments. A couple of minutes passed. Just enough for the young tigers who were looking forward to that opportunity to reach under the girls’ skirts and touch their silky white thighs. Or to get a kiss. Or perhaps a slap in the face.
"I love you," Goggles whispered lustfully from the corner and his hand travelled down to the half-naked, milk-white thighs.
The girl sitting next to him was a living Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Her bright blue eyes were the colour of violets. Her eyebrows were like thin snakes curving below a dignified forehead. Her lips were deep red, like flaming ruby. Her golden tresses fell in waves on her gently rounded shoulders. Her breasts - two exotic hills - were the fifth and the sixth wonders of the world. Her flat belly was like a plain stretching smoothly towards her slender thighs. Her feet were so small and delicate that Cinderella’s slippers would certainly fit them. The most beautiful thing about her, however, was her voice which had the ring of chimes. There could hardly be a sweeter, more melodious voice. She was definitely a goddess of love. Wherever she went, she created a furore. All eyes followed her: men’s brimming with lust, women’s with envy and admiration.
"You’re simply awful," she protested.
He ran his fingers over the thin silk dress, following gently her body’s curves.
"You’re amazing," Goggles whispered softly in her ear. "I’m crazy about you!" His tongue flicked down her slender neck and the girl moaned. "How can you be so beautiful, my love?"
"Stop it… please…" she gasped, trying to push his hands away. "Stop it… or I’ll tell the supervisor." She tried to put a ring of threat into her voice.
The train came out of the tunnel and the compartment was suddenly full of bright sunlight.
The teens promptly sat back as if nothing had happened. Only Goggles was late and a loud smack left a red mark on his face.
"Who do you think you are! Brute!"
The boy gave her a sullen look but said nothing and cringed in the corner. "I hope the supervisor didn’t notice," he thought to himself. He already had two transgressions on his record. Just one more and they would kick him out of the school. At that point Goggles remembered his stepfather’s heavy hand. He wiped his blurred spectacles clean and looked out of the compartment. The Komsomol secretary and two female teachers were standing outside in the corridor. Goggles could hear the maths teacher’s hearty laughter. She was young, she had just graduated from the university, and she was single. Some of the students swore they had seen the Komsomol secretary kiss her in his office. Goggles was sure they were telling the truth, for he knew the guy was a notorious womanizer. "Goddam tomcat," the boy thought. Can’t take his eyes off girls’ legs. While he was striding up and down the classroom, he would watch the girls’ breasts. His favourite teaching method was to make a girl sit in his lap while he was giving the class a lecture about the Communist Party...
"Is everything alright?" The Komsomol secretary opened the compartment door and gave the teenagers a suspicious look.
"Ana felt faint for a moment but she is much better now," the chubby girl sitting next to Goggles put in tactfully. Goggles licked his suddenly dry lips and his eyes thanked her for her resourcefulness. "How much longer to Cervena Zvezda?"
"Another three hours and we’re there." The supervisor pointed a finger at them. "Behave yourselves or you’ll not be getting any television tonight."
The Komsomol secretary went back to the corridor and resumed his flirting with the two young teachers.
"Saved your ass, didn’t I," the fat girl whispered to Goggles. "I’ll ask you for a favour..." She hesitated for a moment. "When the next tunnel comes... will you please remain in your seat... will you do that for me please?"
"Okay." Goggles frowned and thought to himself: why wouldn’t she leave me alone that fat bitch? "I’ll do anything in the world for you," he whispered to her instead.
"Stop kidding me," she complained. "You never pay any attention to me. I kept sending you love letters and you never responded. You didn’t even come to my birthday party!"
"Please forgive me. It’s my poor memory. I’m such a scatterbrain." Goggles tried to talk his way out of the fix.
"You never forget when you have a date with Ana, do you? I saw you running your hands all over her on a bench in the park! You..." Her voice was suddenly nervous. "There... another tunnel’s coming. Please stay where you are."
"Okay, okay," he frowned. "Have it your way."
A moment later the train plunged into the tunnel. In the impenetrable darkness, smacks and giggles could be heard. The young tigers had rushed to find their delicious sugar lumps in the dark.
"Come here, honey," somebody whispered.
"Who the hell are you," protested the girl and pushed the young tiger away.
"Does it matter who I am," the tiger replied. "Shut up and give me a kiss."
"One saucy bastard you are," exclaimed the girl indignantly, banging his chest with her fists. "Let go of me!"
"No I won’t," he insisted. "Kiss me first."
He squeezed her slender thigh and covered her with kisses...
"Hey, go easy on me... you’re choking me... I can’t breathe..." Goggles tried to wrench himself free from Dannie’s arms but the chubby girl held him even tighter.
"Why are you so cold to me? If it were Ana, you’d never get off her, but me... you wouldn’t even kiss me. You wouldn’t even touch my thighs!" She nearly wept in frustration. "Am I so fat? Is this why you wouldn’t even touch me?" There was an angry ring in her voice.
"Damn," Goggles thought. "I’m in for trouble... If she spills the beans I’m a goner... What if I kiss her? She might leave me alone…"
He felt as if he had to put his hand into a bag of vipers and pick one. On the one hand, there was the Komsomol secretary; on the other hand, there was that Dannie girl…Goggles gave a deep sigh and chose the lesser evil.
"Please forgive me," he whispered in the girl’s ear. "I was afraid Ana might see us."
Her body was throbbing with passion.
"Don’t worry. It’s pitch-dark. No one can see us."
Why am I making so much fuss about it, Goggles thought. I could imagine I was kissing Ana...
He rushed ahead bravely and pressed his lips on the girl. His hands were running up and down her body and she started to moan.
"Your hands are so gentle... Please don’t stop..."
Dannie was writhing in his arms and, much to his surprise, he felt aroused. His fingers plunged below her short skirt and drove her nearly crazy.
"You are the first to touch me... there...," she whispered. "Oh you are so good and gentle."
Her body was strained as a guitar string.
"Come here, sweetheart," she whispered.
Dannie held Goggles so tight he could hardly breathe.
"Dannie, please... I’m suffocating," he begged. It hurt so much he felt like sobbing but he also had to suppress a burst of laughter. He wouldn’t have thought that possible - he, the notorious seducer, being seduced by Dannie, the girl who would remain a virgin until she turned thirty.
Luckily, the tunnel finally ended and he could breathe a sigh of relief.
"Where have you been," Ana whispered from her corner. "I’ve been waiting for you."
"Forgive me, love," he answered quietly and sent her a kiss.
"I’m starving," said a fat boy sitting on Ana’s left.
This one’s just a match for Dannie, I should do something about it, Goggles thought.
The girl next to him was watching him amorously and smiling. Panick struck Goggles. Please God, don’t do this to me, he thought. If Dannie falls in love with me I’m history.
He would not only lose the most gorgeous and the most desired girl in the school, he would also make himself a laughingstock. He had to act fast, before anyone could hear about it.
"Grunts is hungry. My darling little piggie wants something to eat," spoke mockingly a tall boy with a budding moustache.
"Maybe I’m fat," Grunts frowned and went on daringly, "but I don’t have a moustache like hog bristle."
"Wow," applauded a few of the girls. "A fight! We’re having a fight!"
Grunts and Bristles jumped to their feet and gazed at each other with hatred.
"I’ll kick your ass," Bristles gritted his teeth.
"We’ll see whose ass will get kicked," Grunts smiled mockingly.
"Stop it!" Goggles thought it was time to intervene. "The supervisor’s outside. If he sees you fighting, that’s the end of your record and we’ll get no television."
Bristles flew into a rage.
"What do you have to propose, smartass? If Grunts does not apologize I’ll smash his teeth."
"Easy now," Goggles frowned. "You want to play macho? Okay, let’s do it. Tonight behind the cottages. You’ll have the chance to prove what men you are."
"Good idea. See you tonight, Grunts. That is, if you are man enough to stick your snout out of the cottage!"
"Oh I’m scared stiff," Grunts teased him. "My bristle stands on end. That terrifying moustache of yours! It is so thick you can make ropes for the entire British fleet out of it!"
The teenagers laughed at the successful joke.
"Moreover,..."
"Shut up both of you," Goggles broke in unceremoniously. "I’m fed up with your squabble. Tony, why don’t you look for a sandwich in your bag?"
"I ate them all," Grunts replied.
"The buffet car is right next to ours. You could get something to eat there," Goggles suggested. "Dannie will come to keep you company, right, Dannie?" He winked at her playfully and licked his lips.
"What can I get you?" She leant provokingly for the extended bill.
She was naked below her blue shirt and the sight of her breasts, round as apples, made Goggles dizzy. They were so perfect that he did not even realize she had asked him a question.
"Uh...," he stammered, trying to collect his thoughts.
"So, what can I get you," Dannie repeated and finally returned to upright position.
The gorgeous sight was gone and Goggles collected himself.
"Just lemonade, Dannie. A glass of lemonade." He could not take his eyes off her breasts. "And a straw please. Get something for yourself also."
Dannie winked playfully, as if she wanted to say: I’ve more secrets to show you, you just wait! Then she turned coquettishly and walked out of the compartment. Grunts followed her. The magnificent sight had not been lost on him, either.
"Phew! At last," Brittles spoke. "The intruder’s gone."
"He’s a nice boy," said Ana in his defence.
"Yeah, nice piggie," Goggles added and they all burst into laughter. "Now there’s just the three of us tigers and three sugars, one for each. Right, honey?" He kissed Ana on the cheek.
"Please stop it. The supervisor will see us," she protested and tried to push him away.
"What if he does," Bristles frowned. "Is the old playboy the only one who’s allowed to..."
He did not finish his words because the train plunged into another tunnel. It was suddenly dark again, and the girls resumed their screaming... softly. Very softly.
It was a beautiful day. The locomotive gave a last whistle, as if to prompt the teenagers to move faster.
"Fall in by units!"
The bald Komsomol secretary was issuing orders.
The teenagers scurried about.
"Ana, give the pitch!"
"Ставай, страна огромная...”


Ana’s beautiful voice rang in the summer air.
"Forward march!"
Ставай, страна огромная,
Ставай на смертний бой...
The song that had inspired Russian patriots in their epic struggle with the Nazi invaders resounded in the centuries-old forest. Squirrels with furry tails jumped from branch to branch. Startled by the noise, a hare shot out of the bushes and into the teenagers’ feet.
"A hare! A hare," someone shouted and threw a stone on it.
"Silence!" The Komosomol secretary grabbed the "offender" by the ear. "You want this in your record or what?"
"No, of course not," muttered the frightened girl. "I’m sorry, comrade. I made a mistake."
"I’ll talk with your mother when we go back from the camp."
The "offender" was shaking by now. Talking with her mother meant no TV for a month, maybe more. But the worst part of it was the "record". Upon graduation, the Komsomol secretary would issue a statement about a student’s behavior. A less-than-flattering statement, something like "insufficiently active in the collective’s political life" - a phrase like that and you were doomed. No university would ever admit such "bourgeois offspring". A tiny blemish in the girl’s record would mean the end of all her dreams.
"You will report at the Komsomol hall tonight."
"Yes, comrade."
The girl wiped the sweat off her forehead and gave a sigh of relief. He was not such a monster, after all, that Komsomol secretary... He would give her a chance...
The cottages were scattered on the shore. A gentle wind was blowing, stirring tiny ripples on the smooth surface of the sea. Small waves splashed on the beach, caressing the fine golden sand. The first cottages were massive, made of concrete, and were fenced with wire mesh. Between them spread a huge swimming pool.
"Are these our cottages," an elderly teacher gasped.
"No, these are the villas of the Regional Committee of the Communist Party. Ours are at the end over there," the Komsomol secretary explained.
Theirs turned out to be decrepit shacks but the teenagers were too enthusiastic to notice that. The boys moved into the cottage on the left, the girls into the cottage on the right. The teachers got the old dilapidated hut behind. The Komsomol secretary was luckier - a small house was reserved for him. It was evident it had been repainted recently. The teachers watched him with envy. That’s how it works, they thought, party members always get the best of everything. Of course none of them dared voice their thoughts, for they knew the consequences were unpredictable...
Throughout human history there has never been equality, the old teacher thought and sighed. She had two years left to retirement. She was determined to get through them no matter what.
In the camp center, in front of the teachers’ cottage, there was a small concrete-covered ground, divided into two: a basketball court and a football field. The flag of Yugoslavia was raised on a flagpole in the centre.
"Fall in," the Komsomol secretary shouted with a frown.
The teenagers jostled like sheep. Finally, they formed more or less straight ranks and froze in silence.
The Komsomol secretary gave a brief pompous speech, followed by an order:
"Dragan Savich, forward march!"
To the sound of the bugles, the best student in the school raised the proud flag. He was pulling the string slowly, enjoying the sight he made. He had been assigned the greatest of all honours: throughout the vacation, he was to raise the flag in the morning and lower it after the evening roll call. The boy was walking on air and looked down upon his peers. At that moment, he felt like a demi-god. He could see the envy in the other students’ eyes. Two "bourgeois elements" were whispering in the back ranks.
"What a clown!"
"Baldhead!"
There was laughter in the back ranks. The Komsomol secretary did not show he had heard it, and let the teenagers go. His "noses" - his informers - would let him know the names of those who had disturbed the order. Sooner or later, the "bourgeois elements" would pay. The Komsomol secretary smiled as he entered his private apartment. His was a good life. A very good life, indeed.
"Be faithful to the party and it will take care of you," his ex-guerilla father had told him. He had heeded his father’s advice, and he had been rewarded. He could never have enough of luxury. He ran around the apartment like a child, treading the thick hand-woven mats, touching the soft sofa, the enormous TV set and the huge fridge in the corner. He finally peered into the bath. There was even a small bathtub. Perfect! At that moment, the Komsomol secretary felt like Alexander the Great, the ruler of the vastest empire in the history of mankind. If he looked closer he would notice that the mats were moth-eaten, the dark blue sofa had lost its colour from the long use, the TV set was black and white. The Komsomol secretary, however, could not care less about such details. He had grown up in misery in a godforsaken small village and that apartment was to him like an imperial palace...