Midnight, like in a fairy tale. The time of the incarnation of princes and sexual machos in pimply toads, carriages and limousines in the life-beaten Zhiguli, and brilliant outfits in ragged rags of home robes. The time of contact of the worlds of the living and the dead, the contact of the matrix with reality. The empty, deserted subway met with a dim light of dusty ceiling. This is truly an underworld kingdom, where evil spirits lurk behind every figural column, where there is no trace of today's warm summer night. Here I am. I run among painful dull reflections, getting out of my power and shivering under the fabric of a translucent light dress. I run like they do not run from death, so they run only from the Devil himself, or from his own boring life. Ears are filled with a thud of heels on granite, flying in time with the heart. The edge of the desert platform, resting on the ominous blackness of a lifeless tunnel. Two yellow glowing eyes appear in the depths, dissolving the dusk and dispersing shadows in their path. Even a banal subway train seems to be an aggressive blue caterpillar, abruptly emerging from its own hole and swallowing single midnight passengers. Yes, it is she: one of the last opportunities to catch the most recent bus that will tear me out of the tenacious clutches of a big city.

Entering the car, I notice a growth of fifteen years late from the disco, peacefully sipping beer in the corner. I really want to shuganut, they say: kids, would go home quickly, and I have a bad feeling. Today is not an easy night, oh, for good reason I have goosebumps running down my back. Yes, and the subway is even more deserted than usual: people feel that something is wrong with their skin and, driven by an unknown force, hurry home, snuggle closer to their loved ones, and find protection in strong and tender hugs. But not me.

One could stay with him, lay his head on his chest, press his whole body, revel in the disturbing smell of his beloved man and feel the warmth of such a close body. And it would be so nice and calm, under the protection of walls, doors and windows, under the protection of HIS even breathing, until the morning, but no! SOMETHING with a creaking roar calls me out of town, farther and farther away from HIM, from safety. I myself can not understand mixed feelings. Everything rational in me rears up, animal fear fetters the flesh, which trembles from the anticipation of something unknown, frightening and fascinating at the same time.

In the opposite corner I notice a bald peasant in his forties. Having barely covered his groin with a shabby case, he makes unambiguous movements with his right hand. Exhibitionist, but with a seemingly like a solid man. I thought such things only inexperienced young people suffer. And he probably has a wife and children at home. They think that the dad at the meeting was delayed. This scum still glances at me with its greasy eyes, but I try not to look at it. No, not because disgusting, or I do not approve of such entertainment, simply. I just can not restrain myself at the sight of comfort, even this kind. Whatever he was, but still a man. Of course, I understand: he needs my help, as a goat needs a fifth leg. Oh, there would be no kids in the far corner, and I see ..

I slowly walk up to the peasant with a playful smile on my lips, kneel down before him, spreading my hips wider. His eyes are rounded and his hand hangs in the air, showing complete bewilderment. Excited flesh sticks out of the pants of light pants, dressed on a naked body. Case, carefully placed next to him, no longer hides a small, bulging member in a frame of dark hair.

- Man, let me.

I take a slightly fallen organ in my right hand and firmly squeeze at the base, driving away dark blood to the head itself. Soon he will again be in full alert.The sight of reared, though not very intimidating, flesh makes me push harder and harder on the trunk, pushing my panties with my second hand so pretty under a short dress. I feel like shaved lips swell, how to ooze hot vagina craving. Man, at this moment you are beautiful and loved by all women of the world, because you love me. I am excited by the appearance of a filled head, at the moment when I take the foreskin to the limit. The wand, as if from a dark ivory, is wedged into the tight ring of my fingers. First, smoothly, and then faster, I torment his dick with delicate velvety paws. With the frenzy inherent only in hungry animals, I drive on it with my hand, then, loosening, then, again exerting pressure. The body of a notorious man wriggles under the weight of overwhelming pleasure that can crush a weightless consciousness. At that moment, when he spews a stream of whitish liquid on his tie, I will feel a wave of violent orgasm, pouring a stream of burning vaginal lubricant on my thighs. His quivering member has not yet had time to fall as I disappear to the sound of a melodious voice:

- Be careful, the doors are closing!..

Dreams. Giving up my own fantasies, I did not even notice how the Man of My Dream came out, leaving behind only a wet pool on the dirty floor. The train rushes to the outskirts of Moscow, leaving behind the deserted central stations. Shortly before the end, the children ran out of the carriage with merry gorse. I am left alone. The car rocking on the paths of the open branch, pushing the luminous summer night in the illuminated sides. Here is the station from which the Last Bus Zagorod departs.

I walk out onto a quiet platform, and the blue caterpillar leaves me alone, with a measured knock taking off unknown where, into some kind of hole where she, curled up, wake until morning, until she goes hunting again, starving for the night. Behind my back the lights of the station closed fade away. I walk to a halt, finding an overgrown path through dark bushes. If only there was any maniac, the two of them are still not scary. At the stop under the broken lantern is He - the protagonist of my story, The Last Bus. Its windows glow softly in the dark, gaping empty salon. As if waiting for someone - me.

Behind the wheel a friendly elderly man with a gray mustache. Nothing wrong. You can go, if we do not meet anyone on the road, then we’ll go to N ********** without any stops. And there are some two hundred meters from the turn, and I am behind the solid walls of a country house, where pleasant company and a big white cat, the owner of the castle, await me.

There is nothing sinister in this transport: the ordinary long white-green Ikarus harmonica. Out of habit, I get up to a large rear window, leaning on a horizontal rail. The bus quietly gets under way, as if afraid to frighten or disturb someone. The dim light making its way through the dusty glass snatches the fuzzy silhouettes of roadside bushes out of the dark. There is no one else: only darkness, unpleasantly yellowish-pale light and me. Rare white stripes of a highway jump out from under the wheels, disappearing one after another in the twilight gathering behind the glass.

Suddenly, the bus shook, the light above me began to unpleasantly blink. The light fabric of the light dress shot to the side. Nothing, just a draft. The light froze in the air, the trees stopped flickering before my eyes, time was stopped by an authoritative authoritarian hand. I feel the vibration of the floor, and a huge shadow fall on the glass. I catch on my back and neck the hot breath of hell, filled with coal dust and sulfur. No, this is not a late miner, we did not stop anywhere. The shadow is approaching, forcing the floor to heave from the heavy confident steps. My mind and flesh are shackled by the fear of the inevitable. Just do not turn around, his dark eyes look deadly! With all my nature, I perceive the unequivocal signals of a demonic being.He stops a few inches from me, dousing the heat of the heated flesh. The huge clawed paws in the black scales fall heavily on my shoulders, almost gently squeezing them until the first trickle of blood flows down the scarred metal claw of the neck. In the glass, I see how a shaggy animal head, with a passionate grin, falls to the pale skin, ecstatically licking the purple liquid with its forked tongue. In the same second ...