It all started with a subscription that my friends left me, leaving for a month on vacation. It was the Philharmonic's subscription, on which I could attend several evenings devoted to piano music. The program of the concerts included works by Schumann, Rachmaninoff, Hindemith, Prokofiev and others, performed by artists whose names told me little. Of course, I thanked my friends for such a sincere concern for my musical education, but I did not intend to “form” in this way.

I remembered about him on a rainy autumn day, when my vitality after a break with my passion was experiencing a deep crisis and needed an emotional shake.

That evening, the program was listed Rachmaninoff. After some hesitation, dressed in a strict dark blue suit, after half an hour I looked at the audience with interest, sitting in the last row of the stalls. The Kremlin concert hall in those times of stagnation was usually used by party members for their countless conferences, plenums, and meetings. And only on rare days, strictly painted a year in advance, the hall was given to “musical evenings”.

What makes a young rake, being in the theater or at a concert? The first thing, of course, is considering women. And I, naturally, indulged in this occupation. There were a few figures worthy of attention, although a few fat-faced people did not have time to make me bored.

The audience, the interest in which I have already faded away, meanwhile, filled the hall. On a brightly lit stage, a white grand piano stood alone, from my perspective resembling a stomping horse.

Suddenly my attention was attracted by the lady of Balzac age, moving along the aisle in my direction. On her monumental bust, which was ahead of its owner, probably half a length of body, could put, as the Americans say, a glass of whiskey.

The bust moved over the heads of the seated men and it was noticeable with what kind of revival and with what undisguised envy each of them watched the luxurious specimen of female attractiveness.

A light-purple dress with overflows so tightly adhered to her full and wide-hip figure, in relief repeating all the details of the underwear hidden underneath, that it was not difficult for me to imagine and recount the entire range of her intimate restroom.

It seemed to me that if I did not remove my nose, he would surely measure her breast, and maybe even experience the elasticity of full-bodied bowls. But she, deftly dodging the bust of my curious nose, squeezed her body heavily into a chair so that it creaked, barely coping with the double load.

The chair on the left was empty.

Gradually the hall filled up, and I had nothing to do, began to while away the time, mentally imagining my neighbor in a negligee and drawing her portrait titled: “Russian Venus in the bathhouse listens to Rachmaninov”.

I have already mentally started to depict her naked forms, approximating what position her chest will take, freed from the bra, but at that moment the lights went out and applause rang out: the performer and the performer in a black dress shirt appeared on the scene.

To my left, the chair was still empty.

The first chords powerfully and invitingly announced the triumph and power of Rachmaninov’s music, which probably would not leave anyone indifferent. A strange state came over me - as if some unknown forces crawled up to me, snatched me out of my chair and started dragging me into this strange world of sounds ...

... A cautious voice brought me back to the chair:

- Is it the 13th?

“Yes,” I mumbled, confused by the sudden appearance of a beautiful stranger from the darkness.

I was fascinated by her inaudible appearance from the dark. The fragrances emanating from her immediately filled the air with exciting flavors.The darkness hid the features of her face, but my imagination, awakened by Rakhmaninov’s sounds, was already drawing the features of a beautiful fairy who risked to appear as a young person.

When she took her place, she lightly touched me with her shoulder and - a disturbing and pervasive wave of passion ran through my body. She captivated me, and I realized that it was not only the nocturne and the preludes that the man was alive!

Straining my side vision and having become accustomed to the twilight, I tried to look at the image of the fairies, but because of the long, curly hair that curled over my shoulders, I could not see the faces. But the tempting heights on the chest were at a height. They so tightly stretched the thin fabric of the transparent blouse, that my imagination, having come to my aid, immediately added a picture of their size, which turned out to be quite sufficient to fit in my palms.

Suddenly, I felt her hand slip down and touch my palm ...

The stormy arpeggios that sounded in the hall responded to my body with unstoppable energy, which stimulated the blood in my temples and made me lose my temper. With each new chord grew and inflamed, like the elements, a passionate desire to taste the hidden charms of this fairy, feel her hot lips, feel her breath.

“She wants to feel me, my desire!” - from this thought, everything was jubilant inside me.

I already felt that between us there was a thin invisible thread, which, like a string, vibrated between us.

My hand instinctively moved toward her, my hand lay on her thigh and, feeling the tightly stretched nylon, slid up, trying to get as quickly as possible to the place where the stockings finish their power over the thigh.

“Go ahead, and woe to Godunov!” - with this lustful thought, my hand was ready to storm the panties, having passed the place where “the asphalt ends.” Contrary to my assumptions, there was no resistance from the expected intimate detail of the toilet, and this discovery of mine ended with the appearance of additional drops of sweat on my forehead: there was nothing "there" on it!

Already from this one thought my masculine strength became so strong that it began to move. Her hand immediately responded and squeezed my instrument with force. All my feelings were now focused on her and my fingers. She checked the hardness of my penis, and I, moving under the skirt, experienced an incomparable feeling of a pioneer with trepidation and excitement discovering the secrets of the female body. Examining the bare bridgehead on the thigh, my fingers were already preparing for a decisive assault on the treasured hill, which already caressed my fingers with its fluffiness and beckoned to it.

The applause, which suddenly fell upon me from all sides, in a moment destroyed the battle formations, and Ishmael, already ready to fall, was not taken.

They gave an intermission. As soon as the hall began to play with the glow of crystal chandeliers, a beautiful pretty face appeared in front of me with charming eyes and no less attractive scarlet lips, which was directly put on display for the sample.

“I'll invite her to the buffet” - in my mind, already making a decision, I thought.

The "originality" of my decision was immediately read by her on my face - and her playful smile, which followed this, unequivocally told me about her agreement. A minute later, I made my way down the aisle, to the exit, following my neighbor, as an entomologist behind a butterfly, never for a moment losing sight of the figure full of temptations. Following the movement of her full hips, as if testing her skirt for strength, I now and then stumbled over someone's legs. The lace of a tight bra seductively shone through the thin fabric of a white blouse. Rising to the second floor I was already suffocating - so exciting was the appearance of her legs in the flesh-colored nylon stockings.

At the pantry stand, after two sips of dry wine, I directly confessed her love for Rachmaninoff, and to myself began to prepare a new siege of the fortress, looking for an epic entry in my head. But I have not had time to give out something such as when I heard:

- Would you like to listen to the second part not here? - this unexpected question of my companion baffled me.

- And where? - I replied in the tone of the passenger who confused the landing platform and ...