... I close thee, my beloved, in my heart - Conceal thy memory in my inner sanctum ... Theater of Tragedy, 1995 ... The city melted in the summer heat. The faded sky hung over it with a deep cap, and the fierce sun mercilessly burned out any manifestation of activity. Even the ubiquitous flies crawled lazily in the shade, unable to unfold their wings. The thermometer crawled to 35 degrees and, it seems, was not going to stop there. The exit from the cool office to the street was similar to getting into a hot blast furnace. The haze floated above the asphalt, the leaves of the trees hung lifeless in the still air. Only one thought remained in the minds of passersby - today is Friday, rather home, under a cold shower ...

... I stood aimlessly at the bus stop. I didn’t want to go home, I had nothing to do there, in a stuffy and hot apartment, in the haze of a lonely evening. The desire to go somewhere and do something was also completely absent. I stood in the ghostly illusion of the shadow that gave the visor a stop. The head after the working day was wadded, I wanted to lie down and die quietly ... A bus approached. And, although he was driving in a completely different direction, I slowly climbed the stairs to a hot salon. Open windows created the illusion of coolness, but only for the duration of the movement.

There were few people. She was sitting by the window, and even on the sunny side. It is not surprising that she has become discouraged. Her head swayed slowly, balancing on the verge of sleep and waking, her eyes were closed. I sat down next to me, looking with interest at the half-awake girl. A strict suit of the color of sea sand, spoke of prosperity and good work, but the lack of make-up, complete, even the nails were unpainted, made me think about who she works. Or where to study. A strange direction of thought in the 35-degree heat.

The bus swayed smoothly, entering the turn, and the girl gently fell right at me. She opened her eyes in dismay, looked around in bewilderment, opened her mouth to apologize or scream ...

... I drowned in her eyes. They were strange colors, not blue, not gray, something in between. A ray of sunshine slid across her face, breaking through the dusty glass of the bus, causing the sparks of gold to dance in the depths of her pupils. Her gaze, half asleep, defaced, slid across my face, stopped ... I looked into her pupils and saw how a haze of light sleep disappeared from them, as sparks flashed in them. We looked into each other’s eyes for only a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity ...

... I don't know what she thought. Her eyes dimmed again, and she said softly:

- - May I sleep on your shoulder?

I gently stretched my hand behind her and slightly put my arm around my shoulders, surprised at my condition. Time has stopped and the world has ceased to exist. Only this strange girl remained, comfortably settled on my shoulder and quietly snoring in a ghostly bus dream. I leaned over to her ear and whispered:

- - Where to wake you?

Barely legible movement of her lips. The ghost of the words "to the end ...". And she was the only one who was sleeping on my shoulder, gently rocking the bus, the silkiness of her hair curling in the glow of the sun. She was asleep, and the whole world stopped around and froze in the hot haze of Friday evening ...

Ending station. The bus stopped, tiredly snorting compressors, opened the doors. I quietly took her in my arms. She was easy, like a fluff.

- - Where to carry you, baby?

Her hands trustingly hugged my neck, my eyes were still closed. The barely audible movement of the lips, the specter of a whisper in the ear — the address.

I carried her along the street without feeling the weight, feeling her breath on my neck. People looked at us, turned around. The sun floated in the gray-blue silk of the sky.

Standard five-story "Khrushchev". Her home. Her porch. I climbed the stairs, holding her in my arms. She slept.

The door of her apartment, studded with brown dermantin. I sat down next. She snuggled into my arms.

- - We came, baby. - I whispered in her ear.

I do not know why I called her that. She did not look like a baby. Almost from my height, slim.With strange eyes in which I could drown.

At the entrance was a little cooler than on the street. Perhaps that is why she opened her eyes and smiled, looking up at me, trustingly.

“Thank you,” she said softly, not whispering, but she said. She took the keys out of her pocket, stretched to open the door.

It is difficult to open the door while sitting on someone's lap. I let her go.

She flung open the door, paused on the threshold. She turned around, giving me a wave of her gaze. Words were not needed.

Her hand, thin and graceful, reached for my cheek. Fingertips gently slid over my skin. And her eyes again devoured me headlong.

There was nothing else in the world, only her eyes.

“Come on ...” said her eyes. They said it themselves, without the help of her lips or tongue.

I do not know how we ended up in her apartment. I looked only at her. She took off her shoes and took my hand.

The room was cool and dimly behind thick curtains. And the sun was shining the other way. All windows were open.

She came close to me. Standing in the middle of the room, we looked at each other. Oval of her face, swelling of the lips. Slim waist, breast elasticity. The elegance of the legs. Cool caress of thin hands sliding over my shoulders. And a haze of eyes.

Her lips touched mine. I answered her kiss. She closed her eyes.

"Thank you ..." she said softly. - “Thank you ... You did not hug me, did not begin to squeeze ... You carried me to the house. Thank."

Her blouse fell to the floor. Her nipples touched my shirt.

“You ... Will you fulfill my request?” Whispered her lips beside mine imploringly.

"Yes, baby." I replied. - “I will do anything you say ...”

“Help me ...” - her whisper in the dim light of the room behind thick curtains. - “I don’t know how to explain this to you ...”

"Whatever you want. Everything as you wish. ”- ghost words, from lips to lips.

"I do not know ... I would rather do ..."

Her hands sat me on the bed. Her figure curved smoothly in front of me, dropping the skirt to the floor.

She was as beautiful as a goddess. Slim body, matte leather. She bent over me.

Her hands fluttered over me like magic butterflies. Clothes flew to the floor. The tips of her fingers went over my skin with drumsticks ...

... And then she pulled out a strange thing. She stood in front of me, spreading her legs slightly and pulling on a thin rope. And this device got out of it.

... She probably thought I would laugh. Or frown in disgust. To admit to someone that you constantly carry a vibrator in yourself ... She was red when she raised her magic eyes on me.

But I just looked at her. Everything she did was right in my eyes.

And then she clung to me, greedily swallowed my dick with her wet bosom, whispered hotly and incoherently in my ear:

- - Feel the life inside ... Present ... Feel the man ... Can you give it to me? ... Just feel ... not fuck, not make love ... Just feel each other ...

She hid her eyes on my chest, but somewhere deep inside her pulse was beating.

I hugged her. Crouched against her. He buried his face in her hair. Inhaled her smell.

"My dear baby ..." I whispered. - "Anything you want ..."

We froze. Feel each other every skin cell. Feel the tenderness of the hands. Feel the hardness of the nipples. Feel the humidity of the womb.

Bending her legs around my thighs. The folds of her tummy over mine. The elasticity of her chest, slightly swinging in front of me. The glitter of her eyes.

Her smell.

Her eyes.

Her skin.

Her bosom.

Time has stopped its run. We stood on the edge of eternity, uniting into one. Two creatures merged into one.

Silence ...