LOCAL

By Deidre Dare

"The thing about Russian women," an expat guy said to me a few weeks ago at a party, "is that they come when you penetrate them." (Guys! Of course the gent didn't use the word "penetrate"!  I'm trying to keep it clean for you. Jeez!)

I raised my eyebrows and smirked. I hear this all the time in Moscow; it's practically a mantra amongst Western men and even the King of Spades said that to me when I first met him.

This coming-upon-penetration business is clearly ludicrous and biologically just about impossible, except for the luckiest of girls ­- if even for them. So I always dismissed it with the same eyebrows and the same smirk (and often a guffaw).

But then another American woman told me that, in her opinion, Russian women are indeed way more sexual than expat women and much, much better in bed.

She had observed in her time in Russia that the local women are more sexually aggressive and prone to take casual sex in its stride. She had also decided from tales told that they are more liberated and uninhibited in bed than we frozen hussies.

A glance at my Facebook friends made me start to wonder: every Russian chick was sexily posed, while the rest of us had pictures of our puppies or of ourselves garbed unattractively in ski gear. One of my Western mates had a picture of a table setting, for pity's sake. That kind of thing can't help but make you think.

Then I was interviewed by The Sunday Times and the reporter asked me if I'd noticed how many bisexual experiences Russian girls were having here (I hadn't). "They're all doing it," the 44-year-old journo told me.

Now, that's some sweet ass action.

Like the good little researcher, to the web I went.

The results were inconclusive. Mainly because almost everything I could find in English on the subject was in the area of "Russian women are wild in bed so marry one today! 1-888-RU-BRIDE (toll free in the continental US!)" Hmm ...

I am familiar with the Russian lesson that it is better to die than to kiss without love - and this seemed to me to belie my friend's theory, lonely men looking to buy themselves wives notwithstanding.

Like the good little researcher, to the field I went.

 "I need you to be bait," I explained to the oh-so-delicious King of Spades.

Happy to accommodate, we headed to The Real McCoy on a Saturday night with the plan to separate at the bar. Confronted with Feis Kontrol, I made the eager suggestion to "tell them I'm press, tell them I'm press."

Which the King of Spades told me to please hush up, which allowed us to get in, since the bouncer seemed to think that the poor man had enough trouble on his hands for one night.

 "Brood a little, baby," I advised as I turned away. "Show just enough pain."

An hour later, with the lonesome King of Spades brooding for real, I decided to give up.

"The woman in red over there made eye contact," he informed me proudly when I joined him. "Russian," he added significantly.

But, of course, we didn't really see any expat women in the place. Lots of expat men, lots of Russian women. Moscow's version of 1-888-RU-BRIDE? Or, maybe, 1-888-USA-MAN?

To cheer him up, we met some of his university friends at Shop & Bar. I've been given a lot of flak for exposing the antics of expats, but I can assure you that we have nothing on the Russians. I do believe that this was the wildest night I've had in Moscow.

Back home the next day, hung over, I decided to try the web again.

This time I found something even more interesting. An American man tells us how he can determine which nationality a woman is simply by sleeping with her.

How can he tell a Russian? She always starts giggling and makes him stop. Why would she do such a thing, one asks? Because he's so small they want to take a look at it.

Apparently, our boys can't hold a candle to Russian men. Now, that IS enough to make a girl pretty hot to trot.

So maybe Russian women have it over us after all.

Looks like they get the last guffaw.

xxoo, DD

Deidre Dare's novel "Expat" can be read online at: www.deidredare.com