Chapter 14. The Strawberries
Early summer of 2024, Korsakov, Sakhalin. Bonnie and Boris—a thirtysomething couple—roam the local market on Sovetskaya Street. In search for fresh and plump strawberries. They do this every other morning. To shock the elders (unintentionally), to startle the fishermen (partially on purpose) and to satisfy themselves (wilfully).
Bonnie, a cute petite with high cheekbones, black short hair and big grey eyes, wearing but her orange sneakers, walks naked on the streets whenever temperatures allow. Today, like on many summer days (and nights), Bonnie needs no clothing. At all.
The internets and tubes are constantly spreading the word, to the most distant corners of the world, about the fashion revolution that radiates out of Paris, the city of so many lights. However, patriarchal societies (such as Russia and Japan) have a hard time processing (not to mention implementing) concepts, ideas and habits that empower women, replace shame with natural expression and encourage individualism to such an extent that collectivism looks like a deadly sin.
Blonde Boris, taller than his girlfriend (but not much), wearing light blue sneakers (same nuance as the irises of his eyes), walks naked beside Bonnie. Holding hands, they stop to check the fruits and veggies that are exposed for sale, on concrete tables shadowed by sizeable hemp umbrellas.
While Bonnie would ask permission to taste this or that, Boris would just wave his handheld over the merchandise. At her affirmative glances, he would tap the screen (buying this or that) before red and mellow spotted dragonflies (each the size of a cat) would sneak under the umbrellas to grab the onions, the garlic, the tomato boxes or apples, kiwis, and bananas.
Owning a shopping drone confers social status. Not just in Korsakov but anywhere. Owning a dozen makes you a whizz. Boris owns two dozen (of shopping drones) and only three (pieces) of fishing drones. Which seldom come to public attention and appreciation. Probably because they swim under water, where the “vigilant eye” of gossip can’t see or hear them buzzing above people’s heads.
“Good morning, Miss Bell.”
“Beautiful morning to you too, Vasily Efremovich. How much for the strawberries?”
“Ten rubles each box. Twenty for a kilogram.” Vasily Efremovich allows his hand to describe a large offering gesture over the crates. “Have a berry for a taste, lovely lady.”
“Sure. My wife has handpicked them all. Early this morning.” He points to the middle of a crate. “And these ones come from a spot where the sunshine hits first.”
Convinced, Bonnie picks a berry. Blowing a discrete breath over it before she bites the tip.
“Mmm, delicious.” She compliments further with the next bite. “Boris darling, can we take the crate?”
“Which one?” asks Boris.
“This one.” Marks Bonnie as her boyfriend moves his handheld above the designated crate, taps the screen and, a few seconds later, the crate is wrapped in fabric by the industrious insect-like, cat-sized drone which then flew away to their home.
“Thank you, Vasily Efremovich. See you on Friday.”
“I’ll be here. Waiting with fresh strawberries. You’re welcome. Always, lovely lady. God bless you!”
Turning to Boris with the same face that she has smiled back to the strawberry man, Bonnie decides that shopping is concluded. “Now let us jog home and fix breakfast,” says she.
“Think I’ll have to stop by Yuri, dear.”
“Yuri? The data dealer?”
“Yes. There he is.” Next to the gates of the market, behind the secondhand sector (that looks like a colourful swamp of Japanese junk), stays Yuri propping the fence. Clothed and capped like Flash but cloaked in Superman’s mantle, Yuri hides a lot of skin. And complexes.
“Hiyah! Man, what’s up?” mumbles Yuri.
“Hi man! All good, all good. Done with the purchases. Heading home. How ya doin’ man?”
“Cool, man, cool.”
“Too much news, man. The nethernet has gone crazy!”
“Can it get crazier?”
“I’ll give you one: did you know that Pyotr has bought an Akula on the black market?”
“Yes. It’s an old and rusty tube. What’s the news here?”
“Pyotr loaded his EMG scanners on the sub. These do a better job than sonars. Much better. Have you seen the maps?”
“Pyotr’s maps. The ones he generated with his augmented reality software.”
“Ah, no, I haven’t seen those maps.”
“Well, you should. They’re not just images or 3D volumes. They give you the pressures and temperatures over any geodesic line. Really cool stuff, man.”
“Only pressures and temps? No big deal.”
“It turns into a big deal when you build surfaces with matching parameters, don’t you think?”
“A-ha. Maybe. Where is Pyotr storing those data, on Amazon?”
“You think that Pyotr is stupid, man! Amazon, eh? No way.” Yuri pushes the fence with his Captain America boots. He walks past Boris to get a better position. “You’d wish for an access key?” The visible part of his face skewing from cool to a moronic grimace.
“Could be,” answers Boris, still unaware.
“She’s a pearl, your girlfriend. Look at her!” This is the moment when Boris gets it.
“Hey, hey. I’ll mine some Bitcoins for you. Say a digit.”
“Bitcoins? Nah. Strawberries, yes.”
Now the dumb face contagion hits Boris. “I don’t understand, man. Do you wish I pay you in strawberries for an access key to some nethernet cloud? Really?”
“You get a bowl of strawberries. Bonnie eats them and I’ll message the key to you.” As he speaks, Yuri slurps a Wrigley’s Spearmint blade between his lips.
“How the hell do you get this kind of vintage stuff?” Wonders Boris. “Never mind. I’ll go get the berries.” Unsuspecting Boris is back, in no time, with a box of strawberries—Vasily Efremovich’s finest.
“Bonnie, Bonnie! Will you join us?”
She puts the vase back on the ground and heads up for the shadowy corner where the boys hang out. “Hi Yuri. How are you? Wow, I see you’ve got new boots. Nice.”
The mixed superhero mumbles an unintelligible answer to Bonnie’s compliments.
“Sorry, Yuri, when you speak and chew gum at the same time, I can hardly make a sense of your words.”
“No problem,” says Yuri, visibly intimidated by the lovely lady who smiles a set of impeccable white teeth at him.
“Ya lookin’ at my bush?” She notices his embarrassment. “Yuri, you can tell me. I don’t mind. You know that.”
“I—I… I know. Yes. I—I wish…”
“Yes, Yuri. What do you wish?”
“Boris!” Yuri’s cheeks (or what can be seen of them) are blushing. He decides to address Boris because he clearly feels more comfortable talking to him. “Boris, I have a fantasy. I need that Bonnie plays this fantasy for me. Are you game?”
“So no Bitcoins but a Bonnie fantasy. This goes in exchange for the access key you promised, right?”
“So it is. Right.”
“Tell me your fantasy, Yuri dear,” asks Bonnie in a sweet and curious voice. “I am all ears.”
“B-Bo-Bonnie, could you be so kind and bring a bowl from the merchant with the vase?”
“Sure, what color?”
“On my way,” Bonnie swings her cute heart-shaped ass away, to buy a white bowl. “China?” She stops and turns around.
“China will do.” Nods Yuri as she goes. “Look Boris. You know that Bonnie intimidates me.”
“Any girl intimidates you.”
“Mmm, all girls, I guess. Don’t know. But this is not the point here. I wish you to fill the bowl with strawberries and then to let me spread my semen over them and have Bonnie eat them. One by one—in front of us.”
“Ahem. There’s only one little problem with your fantasy, Yuri.”
“You may be aware that Bonnie is not exactly in the random sperm consuming business.”
“But I’ve seen her on the internet.”
“That was my sperm.”
“How about that huge alien guy?”
“CGI! You dumb-ass. Thought that you can discern between visual effects and actual playing. Or am I that good at creating CGI, eh?”
“You’re good. It looked so real. Never mind. I want this fantasy now and you want the key. Now.”
“Let’s ask Bonnie. She’s bringing the bowl. You may ask her.”
“No, no. You ask her.”
“Hey Bonnie, Yuri wants you to eat his sperm.”
“Ah. Yuri dear, you are a brave dreamer. And I enjoy eating sperm. Just not yours. Nor of any other man. Other than Boris. I love Boris and his fluids. Only he may feed me and no others. Is this a deal breaker, my dear?”
Yuri stares perplexed at her. “Y-You mean that you are ready to eat strawberries dressed with sperm for me?”
“Yes, with the sperm of Boris. If you don’t mind.”
“N-no, no. N-not at all. I-I am okay w…”
“The key, Yuri. Give me the key first!” Rattles Boris.
“W-What key?… Ah, yes, the access key. Let me generate it. Give me a minute please.”
Yuri turns his red mantle around and heads for the far end of the fence, where he enters a camouflage colored booth.
“Bonnie, are you okay to fulfill this perv’s fantasy? Here and now. In this very public place.”
She chuckles. “Well, well, my dear Bo. I am okay with eating dressed strawberries from a bowl. Be it in a public place or not. What’s the big deal? One can eat in public places, no? The real question is if you’re okay to jerk off over my strawberries in this public place.” She chuckles a couple more times.
“Well yes. It’s a bit awkward. Even for me. I gotta cum fast. For this, I definitely need your help.”
“Blow or rim?”
“Rim and hand!”
“Good. Look, he’s returning.”
“Here’s the token,” says Yuri handling a purple peppercorn to Boris.
“Let me check it,” replies Boris while pressing the token through a round orifice on the lateral of his handheld device. “It works. Where do you wish I masturbate?”
No more words to be spoken. Holding the white bowl filled to the brim with plump strawberries in her right hand, Bonnie approaches to kiss her boyfriend on the chest. Then up to his neck. Noticing the mechanical routine on his muscles. Her lips descend along his backbone, caressing his bottom as she kneels behind him. Her left hand squeezes his left butt cheek as her tongue makes way.
“Ninety-seven seconds! You’re good, man! Wow, whoah, whoo-” voices Yuri in amazement. He shuts up immediately when Bonnie pushes her man aside (after she had carefully pulled her right hand from in between his legs) and salaciously begins to lick the dressing off of the tip of the first berry. The second strawberry is kissed and slowly sucked before being gulped for good. The third will go in small bites. The fourth…
Ten minutes later, Yuri declares himself satisfied as Bonnie and Boris can notice a wet spot developing under the pants of his superhero costume.
“Bye, Yuri darling.”