A kilometer after kilometer the car swallows the tape of a deserted road. Reddish sunshine with cheerful highlights greet the beginning day. A riot of summer morning. A cocktail consisting of the smells of grass damp from dew, rushes into the car’s interior through an open window. Far behind, there was a burning-smelling city, a city choking with dust, with its ugly ulcers covered with cracks in the streets. Now only rare roadside villages are reminiscent of the presence of people in these parts.

My well-worn “Passat” kindly rumbled with its two-liter engine, carrying me to the estate, which hid in the depths of the lake region in the Ignalina region. I really appreciate these days spent near a pure forest lake, which glitters with crystal, among the raspberry trees covered with dense thickets, forests. I like to sit on the bridge, which has shrunk from old age, and watch the lazy swell swing from the float. I like to wander through the forest more often, looking for hidden mushrooms among the pile of fallen branches. And you can just lie in the thick tall grass and watch for hours how wadded clouds slowly float across the bottomless summer sky.

How long have I been looking for this corner of tranquility. God knows how many kilometers I traveled through deaf country roads in search of my “promised land” before I found this inconspicuous house. Then there were the months of work. The former owners of the estate left me a “leaky” roof, “a legacy”, and a bunch of empty bottles that, brazenly exposing their round colored stomachs, proudly lay in the middle of a lawn filled with hens. The picture of total desolation was completed by a rusty "skeleton" of a car thrown right on the road. Now, thanks to my efforts, the manor has become a charming island of peace and quiet, and I can fully enjoy all the delights of a short Baltic summer.

* * *

She stood on the sidelines. It was difficult to understand whether she hitchhiked or simply happened to be at that early hour on a deserted highway. Nevertheless, I took my foot off the accelerator pedal and the car began to slow down a bit. I am always wary of casual companions, but this time I decided to be a “noble knight” and, obeying her timidly raised hand, stopped at the side of the road.

- Before Ignalina? - asked the girl, thrusting her head into the open window. And having received an affirmative nod opened the door and sat in the front seat.

Now I could see a random fellow traveler. In appearance she was no more than 20 years old. Frayed jeans and a wide black T-shirt with a half-cut pattern, but her hands adorned with threads of multicolored beads clearly indicated her belonging to people “from art.” * Her face, covered with slightly noticeable freckles, was decorated with round glasses. or it was a tribute to fashion. She noticed my interest and several times threw a wary glance in my direction, apparently wanting to make sure my intentions were clean. However, my whole appearance seemed to give me a peaceable man oh, and therefore safe for her.

- How did you get here? - I was fully aware of the tactlessness of my question, but curiosity took up.

- To a friend's food. Classmate lives in Ignalina. -

- Where are you from? -

- I study in Vilnius, and I myself am from Klaipeda. - Then it was my turn to be surprised. It’s about 50 kilometers to Vilnius. Does she want to say that all this distance has gone on foot?

“From the sky, you have fallen on the highway.” All the same five in the morning. - Apparently in my voice there really was an unpredictable surprise, and once again she looked at me appreciatively and decided to answer.

- Not from the sky. Yesterday I had a car “transited”. - Here she frowned. Here I drove to here, and then ... I hit the road well

“So you spent all night in the forest?” - Only now I noticed her slightly red eyes.

- Well yes.What would you do? - In her voice sounded a note of indignation.

- Actually, I would not advise ... - Apparently, I began to talk nonsense and her face took on such an expression that her teeth hurt.

- And what is better by bus? -

- Well, okay not pout. Better tell me what to call you. - I tried with might and main to smooth the impression of the unfortunate drop of the phrase.

- Gitana. And you ask all the counter names? -

- No, only those who drive in my car. - I tried to seem slightly indignant, but apparently she felt false and therefore only laughed when I heard my answer.

The Passat snorted indignantly and stood rooted to the middle of the highway. My desperate attempts to bring him back to life did not lead to success. Apparently the truth is that any man believes that it is only with a serious look to open the hood and the car miraculously regains the ability to move. For an hour, Gitana watched me twist the lever with a doomed look, the purpose of which I have a rather vague idea. Apparently the feeling of hopelessness was so clearly written on my confused physiognomy that Gitana decided to interrupt my duel with the car.

- Let's ask, can someone take to the village. There and you will understand. - Gitana spoke absolutely seriously.

- Come on, there is some trifle. - I tried to preserve the remnants of self-esteem, but in the end I decided that it was most reasonable to agree.

For the next hour, we stopped passing cars, but as luck would have it, no one had a cable and we just had to look at the retreating cars. During the breaks of our “hunt” we sat on a dusty roadside and chatted. I pulled a thermos with coffee and sandwiches from my bag still at home, and we had an improvised picnic. The common problem seemed to bring us closer together and we more and more often exchanged more and more frank phrases, which, in fact, did not give out the awakened mutual sympathy, so much we had to cheer us up in this unpleasant situation.

Finally, some fat old man hooked my “iron horse” to his through a leaky “penny” and we were in the village in a few minutes, and the local craftsman was digging in the insides of my car. In the end, he said “dobje” ** and proudly twisting the gentry mustache wished a happy journey.

- So you show where your manor? And then you painted it so that I am burning with curiosity what is there for "earthly paradise."

- As you say. - Actually, I never invited anyone to my place and now I regretted slightly that I was sitting on the curb talking about my house. But I felt that Gitana more than deserved to visit my secret refuge.

- Well, if you do not want ... - It was evident that she was offended.

- No, only I'm not sure what you like. -

- And you show and we'll see. -

* * *

Gitana looked around the room. It was evident that she did not expect to see such a carefully crafted interior. I never considered myself a good designer, so I was obviously flattered by her genuine interest in the decoration of the room. I was especially proud of my fireplace, which occupied a good part of the room.

- Is he real? - Gitana asked a clearly strange question.

- Of course, but I have never drowned it. - In fact, it was strange that there was neither ash nor coal in it.

“So what kind of house is it if there is no fire in it?” -

- You're right, but it never occurred to me to flood the fireplace ... -

Indeed, I built this house, not thinking about the fact that it should be life in it. He was rather a refuge in which I could isolate myself from the outside world. And I didn’t care if it was comfortable in it or not, for I paid more attention to alcohol, which I used more and more often during my visits here. And I suddenly felt scared at the thought that this house would remain an abandoned monument to my vanity.

“Okay, show me your possessions.” - Apparently Gitana felt my condition.

- With joy, if nettle is not afraid. -

We rushed along the shore of the lake like savages, completely forgetting that quite recently we were strangers. She teased me and tried to escape, and I rushed after her, and when I finally caught her, I wrapped her in my arms and we stood leaning against each other. Illuminated by the sun’s rays, the lake’s mirror was beckoning towards itself. Suddenly Gitana looked at me trickly and shouting, “I want to swim,” she didn’t hesitate to take off my T-shirt, exposing my pretty chest. Needless to say, I gladly accepted her offer. Now there are only thin panties through which a dark triangle of hair appeared. I was absolutely naked and so I had to quickly depict the disappointment on my face and Gitana, ducking slightly, pulled off the last piece of clothing.

Cool water pleasantly cooled my heated body. We floundered near the shore, constantly sprinkling each other with hordes of spray. In the end, Gitane managed to get close to me and, clasping my neck, hung on me. Her slim hips wrapped around my lower back. I stroked her back, trying to make my touch light. And from these touches her body suddenly became supple like wax. The thin tongue of the Githana had already thoroughly studied my lips and now gently touched my neck, and from every touch of it, hot waves of desire were spreading all over my body. My member more and more often touched her labia. Suddenly she slumped, and I penetrated her. Without leaving it, I carefully carried her to the shore. I licked drops of water from her face, and she, lifting her ass, rhythmically moved to the beat of my movements. The bright lightning of pleasure struck us at the same time, and I felt my thighs squeeze my hips in a fit of pleasure. But we could not stop. Gitana pushed me, and I was on my back, and she saddled my dick. Droplets of water on her nipples glistening in the sunlight like diamonds falling on my chest. Her scarlet lips opened catching air. My finger penetrated the tight little ring of her ass, and now her every movement gave a new hitherto unknown sensation. And again the lightning ...

* * *

We sat on the floor of the room. The short summer night came into its own. But we didn’t feel her wet, misty embrace because the fire was burning in the fireplace. Vilnius 2000–12–09 (*) Direct translation from Lithuanian - prie meno. Unfortunately, I did not find a Russian analogue of this expression (approx. Author) (**) Good