A young man in a green T-shirt and blue shorts was slowly moving in the midst of human fuss. and in his unprotected arms and legs the sun stuck a pinkish tan. The delight of the first days at the sea passed and gave way to the intense euphoria of prolonged idleness. Kaleidoscope motley world existed together and independently.

The girl talked with her friends and seemed indifferent to everything. She was listening to something. She lifted her chin and looked through the narrow gap between the heads of the interlocutors. Sergey caught her eyes, which flashed like a lightning - an awkward movement closed him, and again the fuss opened him with a silent flash of lightning. The shares of the moment they looked at each other. Sergey saw her eyes: ordinary, gray, tense, attentive - they were absent when talking.

The conversation is over. The interlocutors were lost in idle vanity. The girl was left alone. She turned to face the sea. Her brown hair was pulled in a ponytail. She did not hurry anywhere and went to the perfume tray. Sergey stopped next to each other. The girl was holding a bottle of rose oil.

- Do you like this smell? - Sergey asked.

The girl looked at him not indifferently, but with complete calm, as if a friend was standing nearby, who was expected. She brought the bottle to her face, continuing to look at the man, sniffed the cork, still looking attentively at the stranger, and answered:

- I like everything unusual and new.

- This is not the main smell.

The girl raised her eyebrows:

- You speak in riddles.

- Do you want to guess it?

She put the bottle on the tray:

- I have all the attention.

They went in the middle of the road, where it was free. Sergey said:

- This smell has no tone. We do not notice him, but he is present everywhere: in stones, in trees, in birds. It hangs in the air and is transparent. He is in me.

- Is he in me?

Sergey slightly leaned toward the interlocutor, pulled his nose with the air and said:

“They have their whole body soaked.”

“It seems I guessed,” the girl looked down at her feet and answered very quietly: “This is love.”

Sergey was surprised, but did not file a view. He talked about the sea, and an unusual solution prompted reflection. For some time they walked in silence. The girl broke the silence and asked:

- I have guessed?

Sergey, as if startled after sleep, and answered:

- Yes, indeed, you are right. I did not think that the riddle would be easy.

- I disappointed you?

- vice versa. Inspired ...

“My name is Zoe,” the girl answered ahead of the question.

- You inspired Sergei, Zoe.

The curved pointed horn of the moon pricked the blackness of the starry sky and silvered the sea. The wave rolled onto the shore a frothy bagel, which spread out pancake and disappeared into the outgrowths of the surf. Two figures trudging along the sand. Sergey grabbed Zoya by the waist. At each step, the girl's muscles elastically shimmered under a light dress. Sergey felt their movement. So it was inconvenient to go, but touch brought the charm of the first proximity.

She turned to Sergei. I wanted to say something, but only took a deep breath. He replied:

- Today was an active sun. Shivering and fevering come at the same time.

- That is what I feel.

Her breath warmed Sergey's cheek. He drew a girl to him, she limply leaned over to him. He bit into her lips with some kind of long-awaited delight, as if the delay was like a death penalty. f lifting off his lovely soft lips, Sergei unbuttoned two hooks on the dress and, removing the veil from his desired body, pulled the dress down, sank to the girl's legs, more and more denying the outside world and not noticing it.

White panties with a lace border continued the world of absurdities and mysteries. Sergey could not and did not want to rise from his knees. He hugged the hips of the girl, pressed his cheek to her stomach and felt the pulse of a vein under his palms. Zoe sank down in front of him. Sergey cooled his red-hot face in a chest hollow.Hop kisses continued the road into the unknown. The outside world has become invisible. Knees rested on hard boards.

“It hurts,” Zoe said, “and uncomfortable.”

She pressed Sergei on the shoulders. He obeyed her orders and lay back on the boards, continuing to look at her graceful figure.

Moonlight gave the female body the cold calculating beauty of a precious hilt. The light silvered up half of her face, a shoulder, an oval of her chest, a thin line of light path striving along the arm bent at the elbow, highlighted the waist with a hairline and lay on her hip with an elongated spot. Zoe pulled a clip out of her hair. They spread out and poured waterfalls on his shoulders and chest. Zoe threw back her head and put her hair behind her back.

Sergey was at the mercy of the cold moon beauty, the sorcerous night dope, who aroused in him a swift desire to belong to the priestess of his feelings. He was ready to do her will. Zoe leaned on Sergei's shoulders, bent low so that her hair moved forward again. He reached out with his hands to her chest. Zoe bent lower. The silky waterfall closed the star glimmer from Sergey. He kissed one of the chest tops and tried to grab another with his lips, but Zoe bent, pulled back. Her hair whipped up like a whirlpool in a whirlpool. Her gaze, detached from the world, was directed to infinity, and shone with happy aggression - she did not notice anything, but only rushed towards a goal that absorbed all her thoughts. In her mad race, she looked like a mad horsewoman, who flies into interstellar space in the hope of attaining insight.

Suddenly, as if on a steep climb, she slowed down the pace, leaned back, swung forward - a train of hair swept through the sky and covered Sergei’s face. Zoe clung to his body, clung to his shoulders and, gradually weakening, limp on his chest. They rested and listened to the beating of each other's hearts. Sergey pushed a stiff tornado out of his face and breathed in deeply. Zoe moved, lifted her head. Her face shone with calm happiness. She straightened. She touched her hips and ran her hands over her body - from the bottom up, she bent her back, clasped her strong breasts and stopped moving her arms.

The world of night coolness more and more strongly reminded of itself. The frenzied hops evaporated and the eternal picture of the Milky Way appeared. Sergey looked down at the frozen figure and said:

- You are the queen of stars and the mistress of the galaxy.

“Yes,” she replied. - I like myself. - She raised her hand and pointed to the sky. - This is my way.