It is difficult to say what pushes the mind to dive into a temporary pool for several years or even decades ago. What pushes a person to remember good or bad, a little sad or happy?

Ticket to The Moon ..., remember the famous song Eleсtric Light Orchestra from the album “Time”? ..

Oleg was sitting in the kitchen, listening to the local wave, when the DJ announced and put on this song. He started, went out onto the balcony, took out a cigarette, struck a match a couple of times and, after lighting a cigarette, inhaled deeply. In those already distant 80s, this thing and this ELO album became for them Isolde a sort of hallmark of their relationship. Or a talisman. After any disagreement, it was enough to put the “Ticket to the Moon” in the cassette, Isolde stopped sulking, and Oleg could hope that after a couple of minutes you could forget about the quarrel.

To the sounds of ELO, their first love experiences took place, they studied each other, they fooled up half the faint, playing erotic performances. Ticket to The Moon, "Ticket to the Moon", you can even say, a ticket to nowhere.

Then he went to the army - she did not wait. Banal story - she began to meet with others. “For God's sake,” Oleg spat, but he never stopped loving.

They met once or twice a year, when Isolde came on vacation. By that time she lived in Moscow, somewhere else, but sometimes she remained for a long time in Belgorod. Strange relationship. Izolda apparently wanted to shake things up, remember the former, the first girlish fantasies, and Oleg did not have, as he himself thought, the feeling that he could be the first, but he didn’t become like that, therefore from time to time he argued to himself rather than that she lost a lot. Silly, probably, but nonetheless, once a year, their paths crossed on the vast expanses of the Universe at its microscopic point called Belgorod.

They either went to a restaurant, and then rented a hotel room, or hung out at Oleg's house, sometimes Isolde accepted ... Never Oleg, nor Isolde felt empty after a meeting, but they never met after a night of love. The next day, in no other for a whole year, did they even call each other.

These are idiotic relationships. But at least they are not tired of each other. Their meetings were always the first time, and when they were exhausted, they fell asleep in bed, woke up, and again loved each other to madness, knowing full well that their relationship had no future. Oleg, at least, thought it was good that it was going that way. It is unlikely that they could get along.

The phone began to gurgle in Japanese. “Isolde,” the master thought for some reason and was not mistaken.

* * *

They met the next day at a small cafe. Isolde missed Oleg, for her first true love. She therefore did not allow them to break the thread of their relationship, in order to be able to plunge into the atmosphere of their 80s, with the first kiss and child insults, the first bold touches. With Oleg, she first felt what it meant to be close to a man, although then her friend did not cross the line, but, in principle, it did not change anything. Years passed, they gained experience, but all the same, their meetings blew with something pure and immaculate, despite the fact that at every meeting they seemed to catch up. Sometimes, even in winter, he made her forget about the dank wind on the bench at the “bag”, the cultural and educational school. The warm wave that swept over her at that moment warmed the Isolde for a long time.

Sometimes she wondered: so maybe, here he is, the hero of her novel? What is the matter? No, they can hardly be together, he can hardly forget her escape, and she is his indecision.

* * *

The cafe was not distinguished by the refinement of the interior, but the brandy and snack were not bad, so Oleg was in no hurry to leave. They talked and could not talk a lot. Isolde shared her sorrows, Oleg told about his life and life. Friends sat down, drank, told jokes, drank coffee, drank again.Iseult was driving, so she didn’t drink, she was more silent and looked at her old fan. It was obvious that Oleg had already gone through, but to limit the personality is not in the rules of his girlfriend, if he remembers.

- In a word, one by one, and that's all. Isolde, throw the guys on the Left Bank.

- What problems?

Having thrown acquaintances on the Left Bank, a new “nine” slowly rolled out onto Frunze Street and stopped near a paid parking lot. Why Isolde parked there is no longer important. Something remains unsaid ...

As soon as the car stopped, the lovers rushed into each other's arms. Kissing eagerly, Isolde moved to Oleg's lap, slightly rolling back his seat so that it was more convenient.

His tender fingers gently stroked her elegant ass, penetrating lower and lower, and he managed to get to her chest and stuck to her like a little. The girl felt that her mind was leaving her - no longer embarrassed that the car was standing in a rather crowded, well-lit place. She did not care who and what would think. She was caressed by a former lover, feelings for which did not grow into hatred or indifference, and she was very good.

Oleg gently pulled off her black lace panties and disturbed her little flower with his finger. Isolde arched from the sensuality, hands rested on the glove compartment and with the help of Oleg threw his legs on his shoulders, he was just waiting for it. His greedy mouth and nosy tongue boldly attacked the open bud of her rose.

Oleg tormented her with her tongue until Isolde finished. With her first lover, the girl never experienced such a buzz, she even turned off for a couple of seconds, and having come to herself and dropping to Oleg's knees, she ran her fingers through his hair. Licking her lover's lips, the girl felt the salty taste of her juice on them. A sweet convulsion pierced her flexible body. Then the girl moved to the driver's seat, continuing to kiss Oleg, pulled off his wiped jeans, and her tender lips let the gun of his annual revenge in his mouth.