Holiday Indulgence – Tu B’Av

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A179 Tu BAv 2

Written by Dirty Di. Dirty Di is the author of Astray and Deborah and Aviva.

A note from the author: This is the second part of a series called Holiday Indulgence. The series will be following the adventures and misadventures of our heroine Malka Berkovich throughout the Jewish calendar, a fictional character that simply can’t resist celebrating and cherishing her Judaism.

Each installment can be read as a separate piece, although because of the character and the story’s development, I wouldn’t advise it. The first part, Shavuot, can be found here.

Rated RShe looks at the flier in her hand; it’s in Hebrew with a few understandable lines in English. Tu B’Av. She doesn’t have time for this; she just got there and needs to prepare for her conference. She throws the flier in the closest trash bin and walks away from the men handling them.

The second time they hand her the flier, she wonders a brief what is this crap all about, and tosses it away somewhat annoyed.

The third time someone hands her a flier she is already infuriated to no end. Deciding to put a stop to all this, she stops in her tracks, raises her gaze and meets dark eyes and a bright smile.

“What is this?”

Tu B’Av.”

She raises an eyebrow. Apparently, the man is there with the sole purpose of annoying her.

“I can read that. What does it mean?”

“Love. We want to bring it back.”

“What?” She says, her eyebrow reaching an unachieved level of height.

“Why don’t you come and find out?” The man –kid, she corrects herself, he’s barely in his twenties– says, with a strong Israeli accent and turns around to give fliers to someone else.

“Damn hippies,” she murmurs and enters the auditorium without looking back.


“Are the tickets ready?”


“First class?”


“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Malka!”

“Round trip?”

“For the last time, yes.”

“The hotel?”


“Who’s picking me up?”

“Avigdor Cohen.”

“Do I know him?”

“I downloaded his picture; it’s in your cellphone.”


“Do you know how to look at the picture?”

“Yes, Bradley.” She doesn’t, but she’s not about to admit that. She’ll figure it out on the plane. “What about–”

“The presentation is in your flash drive, in the laptop you’re taking with you and in both our mails just in case anything happens to any of the copies; you are already checked in and your luggage is in the airport, probably already inside the plane, now can you go, please?”

“Bradley, if something goes wrong, if something is missing–”

“Malka, everything is ready. Go! The car is waiting for you.”


Love, he had said. Whatever. What is it with hippies and love? Love is nothing she aspires to, nothing she expects. But most of all, nothing she deserves. And why would she? She’s run away from it her whole life.

But, what is that thing she feels sometimes? When she is pinned against the bed, pounded mercilessly. That’s not love, it’s lust. And just because she loves to fuck and be fucked, doesn’t mean she loves any of them. They are beneath her. They serve a purpose; they entertain her, nothing more. All of them, no exception.

So it’s wonderful, really, when she finds herself dazzled and suddenly blinded by love. The atmosphere surrounding her clears up and she start noticing things. Was the sky always this beautiful? Were the stars always this bright? Her senses heighten and everything is a new experience, everything is ideal.

Everything is fake. It’s a biochemical process; her senses are self-deceiving.

Don’t surrender. Or surrender, but at your own risk and peril. Just be warned. The question is, is it worth it? Perhaps the answer is in the green eyes she can’t get out of her mind. Look around; there are no green eyes, no soft skin. Just strong, muscled arms and a dark beard. And cuffs; remember the cuffs?

Focus on the task at hand.


“I wish I could go with you,” Hannah says over the phone. “I’ve never been to Israel.”

“Then come with me,” Malka says and regrets it immediately. She already knows the answer.

“I can’t.” She answers. “I’ll miss you.”

Malka huffs in disbelief.

“You don’t believe me?”

“We live in different cities; we’re just going to be farther apart for a few days. It shouldn’t make any difference.”

“It does for me. Will we be able to talk?”

“I’m not sure. I only have to give one lecture, but the seminar lasts a week. I have to be there.”

She is required to attend the entire seminar; it’s important to make connections.

“I see,” Hannah says, sounding frustrated. “I may be going to New York in a few weeks. Will you be there?”

“We’ll see,” she says, noncommittally. “Let me know the dates.”

“Sure. Have a safe flight, Malka,” she says and hangs up.

Malka stares at the phone for a few minutes, unable to understand the disappointment pooling in her stomach.

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Dirty Di has the stuff that you want; she is the thing that you need. So if you're feeling devious, and looking glamorous, let’s get mischievous and polyamorous, because you live only once, so be sure you got it right. And if you don't, try again.