She was silent, and he in a stupor could not take his eyes off the bloody panties between her legs. Wild thoughts flashed through his head, one unbelievable one another. Finally, he squeezed out:

- Come on, wash up.

The smile on her face turned into a grimace.

“It flows from me,” she said softly.

- What exactly? - he tried to look calm.

“Some kind of liquid,” she whispered, and laughed nervously.

“Let's go the same way,” he almost had to force her into the bathroom. There he experienced several unpleasant (and maybe vice versa - he didn’t have time to properly understand the sensations), washing Irina from head to toe with a sponge, carefully touching the perineum. She turned without controversy and bent her knees so that he was comfortable. It was like a baby bathing scene.

The bloody stream dried up. Wet, shaking from the cold and shivering, she crossed her feet on the floor. He threw a towel on her, took her to the hall, and ordered her to wipe herself. Then he returned, and diligently washed the bath, tile, sink, carefully noticing the traces. As much as I could, I put the sofa and the carpet in order. It was a serious job, and he was even out of breath.

- Painfully? He asked, squeezing a rag one last time.

- Little by little.

She sat in an armchair, wrapped in a towel and tucked in her legs, going over the new things she was fishing out of the bag. The tip of her nose turned red, her eyes sunk a little, but she looked tolerant, in his opinion.

- Can you make some tea? He said angrily. In fact, he was insanely glad that she was all right.

“She pounced with her tea,” she said calmly, “I would rather drink vodka.” In general, I have to go home.

He was tired. - Well, to hell with him, with tea.

He took the bucket and rags to the toilet. Then he lingered a little in the hallway in order to quickly search her old clothes.

He returned a little puzzled, and crouched at her feet.

- One more time?

- What?!

The horror in her voice was genuine, and he reasoned that it would be best to put all the dots on i as soon as possible. In particular, one question worried him quite seriously.

“Joked,” he grunted. - You know, you seemed to me such a poor girl ...

She glanced at him.

- In terms of?

It seemed to him that her voice had changed a lot since she became a woman. Now he was much firmer, some strange audacity felt to him.

- Poor, poor girl ...

“Just a beggar,” she sighed.

And stood up, throwing the towel. She already adorned a brand-new bra pinkish tones with wonderful ruches, and transparent black panties. "When did she have time?" Flashed sluggishly in his head.

He reached out, and not too deftly he shoved several pale green pieces of paper that he had kept in his fist right into her beautiful panties. She was dumbfounded.

- What is it?

“Three hundred bucks,” he explained. - Two for fifty dollars, and two for a hundred.

She covered her face with her hands and slowly sank into a chair, squeezing her round knees. He looked at her with tenderness - such a genuine purity, and such a glorious mature body. But in general, it all looked like a cheap movie.

“Tell me something, honey.”

“I have a name,” she snapped. - Healthy you are in other people's pockets ...

He was silent.

- What do you want from me? She suddenly shouted. - Fucked me, like the last whore, right? Are you kidding me? - she sobbed. - Bastard ...

- Why "how"? - he was genuinely surprised. - Listen, you have three hundred rather American dollars in your pocket - not God knows what, but still. In our times, the annual salary of the district doctor. Or do you not understand the numbers? You are playing this, you know, unhappy ... - he remembered how greedily she had burrowed into a hamburger, and he laughed.

- What do you want? She grunted angrily.

“I don't care,” he said. - Just uncomfortable somehow. Maybe you learned how to do magic tricks ... "Every girl," you know? And I just such a simple coin, I take everything.

- tricks? - she soared. - Well, you and scum after all! I almost died under you here!

“I have to,” he corrected. - This is a different position. So I wanted. I'm crying, right?

She pointedly lay down on the sofa, face down, and covered her head with her hands.

“Getting you to work,” he continued calmly. - I answer for you, you know. Tell me one thing - where did you get the money, and how did you earn it. And that's all. - He bent over her and stroked her back. - Nothing terrible will happen.

“Maybe it will,” she mumbled softly. - How would you know...

“And yet,” he said, “something.” While I was cleaning up, I could not understand everything - where did your panties go. Little red ones, remember?

She said nothing.

- Where are you hiding them, under the sofa? BUT?...

He continued stroking her back, and felt her tremble. Then there was an explosion.

She cried hysterically, howling, and he kept stroking his thin shoulder blades, soft, black silk-covered ass, trembling rounded thighs, feeling with surprise the newly awakening desire. She turned him on like no one else, and that was his scarecrow. Little crying woman with a nasty taste.

He stuck his palm under the panties, and covered the soft anus with his finger, and immediately felt his convulsive contraction. He inclined, and said softly in her ear:

- I want to take you in the ass. Can?

Crying stopped. She kept shaking, but without the former rage. Finally, he heard:

- Damn it with two you succeed.

“You think so,” he grinned, and lowered the gum, revealing pink buttocks. She kicked her feet, trying to stop him, but he moved onto her back, pressing her against the couch.

She wheezed.

- Do not! Please! ... Volodya ...

- Tell me? He asked quietly, tearing the narrow strip of fabric down with a bang.

- Yes! Yes! ... - her body was beating under him, as if in agony. - Let go, you hear !!

- Okay.

He climbed down from her, and she instantly rolled onto her back.

Her eyes were full of tears - and grief. She was breathing heavily.

He waited silently.

“I didn't fuck,” she said. - Do not you understand that I have no one else? Well, except for you ...

He shrugged.

- Suppose.

She lifted a little, bringing the panties back. The blond triangle flashed, and disappeared again. A plump fold lay on top of the gum as she pulled herself up and sat down, leaning against the wall.

- I did not want to spend them.

- Three hundred bucks? - he specified.

- Well, yes. I was going to save. To leave ... well ... to Svetka, in general.

- What Svetka?

- I told you ... Oh, I lied then, I guess.

“Probably,” he grinned. - You think, strongly believed?

She pulled her knees up to her chin, and covered them with her hands.

- How did I say - Bella? Her Light name, surname - Brayman.

A bell rang in his head. Admiring the pure line of her foot, he asked out of inertia:

- Do not lie?

She is woeful ...