Classmates: He and she. The bride and groom - teased them once: Distant school years! The silence of the lessons and rollicking rampant change. Classes, desks, notebooks and textbooks, strict teachers and frivolous shalopai, diligent honors: Oh, childhood, childhood. For ten long years, they only waited for the moment when they finally left school forever, to become independent. And when this moment came, for some reason they were no longer happy. It was sad to part with each other and did not want to leave the good old walls, which suddenly turned out to be such relatives: How many years have passed since that unforgettable time? Ten? No, more: The twelfth year has already passed. How time flies! Then they were only seventeen, they were filled with the most optimistic hopes, ambitious dreams, there was a whole life ahead, big and beautiful, illuminated with the soft-pink light of youthful dreams: Now they are under thirty. Almost half my life behind. What did they do? Unfortunately, not so much. True, and not enough. He is quite a famous sculptor. Exhibitions, flowers, greetings: Although, of course, sweat, work, sleepless nights. She: However, what she does, he really did not know. I heard only that she graduated from one of the faculties of the Institute of Asian and African countries and literally just returned from Japan, where she worked for five whole years: Yes, each of them has her own life, with all its concerns and problems. He already managed to marry. The yellow wedding ring squeezed the finger tightly. There is a child: There is no ring on her hand. Not yet. The bride is, frankly, enviable - not stupid, beautiful, and financially well secured - so it is unlikely that she will walk for a long time free: forget that happy and carefree pores. They have something to remember.

But the conversation, oddly enough, did not go well. Have they become so strangers to each other? Can not be! Yes, and by the way both were delighted by a chance meeting, that can not be said. Now his time is running out, on the nose the first personal exhibition, but nevertheless he invited her to her with genuine joy when she expressed a desire to look at his works. And here suddenly between them like a black cat ran. Beaten for two hours, they sat against each other, squeezing the words out of themselves with an effort. Maybe they did not need to meet?

His guest did not liven up when he began to show her his creations. She looked so-so, rather out of politeness, without any interest, and this seriously hurt him. However, when she saw "Naked", coldness and apathy disappeared from her face, and her dead-empty eyes revived, lit up with curiosity. Inspired by such a change, he told her the unfortunate story of this unfinished sculpture.

For a long time he bore the idea in himself, cherished him like a child. Finally, with a sinking heart, he decided to get down to business. But it was not there! Finding the right model turned out to be much more difficult than he initially thought. In the end, after a long unsuccessful search, when he was almost desperate, he was lucky. He began to work. But fate, apparently, decided only evil laugh at him. The work was in full swing when it was so hard for a model to be found under a tram! To death! It is necessary to manage! And here is his "Nude" in the corner, covered with a rag, waiting for something unknown.

She listened with ever-increasing interest and, when he finished, was silent for a while, twirling a can of Coca-Cola in her hands. Then she finally asked:

- And what kind of woman do you need, that she is so hard to find?

He thought for a moment.

- It is not so easy to explain. You see, we now have a well-defined ideal of feminine beauty in the “fashion”: a thin face, a fragile physique, a wasp waist, but at the same time a magnificent bust, and so on.In general, the Hollywood standard is absolutely nasty to nature. Naturally, the vast majority of the models correspond to this type. I need something else: a natural female figure, not spoiled by civilization, beautiful and harmonious in its natural beauty. Such figures are now extremely rare. At least, neither me nor any of my acquaintances have anything suitable in mind. Such are the pies. By the way, - he smiled, - I don’t know how you would like it, but you yourself were a prototype for the statue. The way I remember you. However, you haven't changed too much now:

- So maybe I'll help you then?

He grinned and wanted to transfer the conversation to another topic, but she did not back down:

- You take a model?

- What are you, really want to pose? - he was surprised.

- Why not? - she smiled slyly. - Why am I worse than others?

- Better, honey, better, but you probably did not understand. The fact is that posing in this case should be naked.

- Well, so what? You decided to perpetuate my mortal soul, - she smiled again, - and for my part it would be just a bastard not to meet you. I agree to pose not only naked, but also - like Bulgakov’s there - with completely torn skin.

- Are you kidding?

“Well, if only about flayed skin,” and, without waiting for new questions, she resolutely opened the blazer.

- Do you want to start right now?

- Of course, why delay?

He laughed.

- You know, I will not come to myself. All this is so unexpected:

Smiling back, she slowly began to unbutton her blouse. Her face became serious and slightly reddened.

“Yes, if you like,” he said, “there is a screen in the corner.” You can undress after her.

She was hesitating, but then shook her head emphatically.

- What for?

He shrugged - as you like. Meanwhile, she had already pulled the lower part of the blouse from under her skirt and unbuttoned the last buttons. Having coped with them, she threw her blouse over her shoulders and, without unbuttoning her cuffs, quickly stretched out her arms. He saw a lace, with transparent cups a bra, through which two large dark purple nipples looked through. Throwing a blouse on top of the blazer on a chair, she quickly removed her bra. Her breasts were heavy, but excellent shape. Freed from captivity, they swayed steadily and stately, like two ripe fruits on a branch.

When he finally tore his eyes away from these seductive rounds, his guest took off his shoes and unzipped the skirt. Now she was off her, gradually exposing at first lush rounded thighs, and then - lovely legs pulled into black tights. The skirt gently fell on top of a pile of other clothes, and after a few seconds, followed by tights. Not holding back, he shot his eyes at the now uncovered legs: slender, beautiful, with skin of dazzling, radiant whiteness. His gaze was moving slowly up and down. Higher and higher. And here it is, the last obstacle: narrow lace panties, transparent at the top. A large black spot of the bosom was clearly visible through the thin fabric, and in the place where the material was through, one could even distinguish individual bunched, buttered, glistening hairs. Feeling the excitement that he was not looking for right now, he closed his eyes.

A few seconds passed. Finally he opened his eyes again. His guest was standing in the same place, in the same pose, but completely naked. Her lace panties crowned a bunch of dumped clothes. Strange thing, he was overcome by some embarrassment. He silently looked at the beautiful body on display, not knowing how to behave further. And the body was really beautiful. A magnificent bust, a wide white belly, a powerful reversal of the hips, a violent triumph of lines and shapes: it was simply created for a painter, sculptor's cutter or a poet's pen:

The pause became awkward. His guest ...