When they left the restaurant, there was already a real southern night. They crossed a brightly lit square in front of a department store, walked about two hundred meters along the main avenue of the resort town and began to climb a spiral staircase, stuck to a white wall. Entered and stopped in the middle of a small room with a slanting ceiling - in France this is probably called the "attic".

She knew very well what was coming — so she looked around, studying the place of the upcoming love battle, and vaguely remembering something.

- Yes, you have been here! - Gives a voice to her companion. - Remember, we fucked you together with Vladlen?

She can't remember anything. Her companion talks about playing forfeits, reminds of a blowjob right in a taxi.

- We've known each other for a long time! - He says with a laugh. - Do you pretend? Remember, we still pulled you in the park?

She diligently frowns forehead and smiles - politely, soothingly. For some reason, her companion is upset. She consoles him in a motherly way, trying to explain:

- I am often offended. One old acquaintance recently said: “Strange, we have made love ten times already, and yesterday in the restaurant I had to get to know you again!”

- Believe me, I really did not recognize you! - she justified.

- Wear glasses! - He retorted hard.

Nobody knows that no diopters will help here. Once upon a time, when this feature caused a lot of trouble, she really went to the doctor. Vision turned out to be all right, the visual memory is also within the normal range, and yet ... They are too much the same, these carriers are members. Too standard in bed (“and now make a blowjob”, “legs wider”, “cutting pussy”), too equally complain about their highly moral, aged wives. They differ only in the degree of greed, and the ability to satisfy it. And besides, because to memorize each of them is to waste spiritual energy on them. For what? Nine out of ten carefully asked how she "engaged in it." For them, she had learned the tweeting about her stepfather, who raped her at the age of twelve. Under the guise of deep sympathy, they try to find out as much tickling nerve details. They get them - this is part of her profession. For some reason they believe that having plunged and taken out their process into the crevice between her legs several times, they acquire the right to intimate outpourings, to intimacy, almost friendship. If then she is unable to recognize them, they react extremely painfully. They seem to neglect, it hurts their male ego. Each of these used cockerels, in the depths of their souls, believe that he had merited her in a completely unforgettable, unprecedented way. She does not mind, let them remain in pleasant delusion.

In order not to hurt the poor fellow once again, she learned to masterly use all sorts of suggestive questions, impersonal formulas of politeness, interjections. Pretty soon, she discovered that with some caution and dexterity, you can keep up a lively friendly conversation, knowing almost nothing about the man. It is enough to find out where they met - the rest goes according to the scheme once and for all.

“Strange,” she continued to think, “so much the peasants want them to be singled out, called by name, asked about work.”

Her companion could not calm down. He poured the names, dates, meetings, details of some past intercourse ...

“Well, yes, it also made me nervous, until I realized that it was not a matter of visual memory, but of the deepest indifference. I could be accused of being egocentric, if I had not been so indifferent to my own past. That tutor in the pioneer camp, his long moralizing speeches and palm, crawling up his leg under the skirt, and cry, pain, blood ... He did not dare to take possession of me for real, but he explored every fold with his fingers and said everything, spoke ... And I so wanted him to lean on me, crush under me! Then his city friends ... Our strange hikes, when I was the only girl in the company of five or six adult men. I waited with trepidation when the boats moored to the shore and my tent would be set up. I enjoyed taking them two or three a night. I liked to play their members, to indulge. For some reason they were afraid of me. Once I was nearly drowned - it seemed to them that I was going to complain ... Just in case, they transported me to another city and gave up to some kind of fat man. It was there that I discovered that everything slips past consciousness, not touching, not clinging to the living. It was as if I, on duty, took part in other people's lives, other people's pleasures, and mine was going somewhere aside, far from there. So was a good third of life. Without a trace. As if it was not with me ... "

So thinking, she gradually undressed, taking more seductive poses. She saw that her companion ran his tongue several times over his dry lips, that his light trousers were swollen in front of a steep breaker.

- Of course, I was joking! She said, kneeling down in front of him and slowly unbuttoning his pants. - I don’t remember you! Now I will play on your pipe, and you tell me, has your wife become a little more diverse in bed during this time?

- Oh, Nadine! You even remember about your wife!

“So, the last time I called myself Nadya,” she said to herself, starting to work.

Her current partner leaned back and snuffled contentedly, like a happy child.