She danced no worse and no better than her contemporaries (dances were studied in her school), but the Host led her in such a way that she suddenly choked on her intoxicating circling hobby. A warm hand imperiously embraced her, almost naked — no panties, no underwear, in a strange dress alone — and Katka felt strong warmth through the fabric ...

- What is it with you? Book? Wet? From tears?
- Magic, with spells. If you behave badly, I will turn into a toad.
- Better in the turtle: they live longer ... So how do you say your name is? Marusya? Sow? Dina?
- Dina is not my name, but my neighbor's cat ...
- But still?
- Still? Well, let's say, Adele ...
- Adele? And this, let's say, is not your blog on LiveJournal - “Gimp from Adele”?
- Why cunning? Let's say my ...
- Aaabaldet! And you do not remember there such, say, Chelkash? Which always writes, and you write it on tinsel, on tinsel?
- Are you saying that ...
- What happened here is a meeting of brothers in mind! Artificial! I mean the network! For this you need a drink!
- Right now? Do not choke?
- And what are you, bastard brandy stashed in a bra?
- I have no bastard, no bra ... ("God, what am I carrying?")
___________________
* Chelkash is a character in the Gorky story of the same name. - approx. auth.

He did not otlipal from Katka: at the end of the tour he dragged her off to dance again, then again, again and again ... Her cheeks were flushed like a nesting doll. Strauss was replaced by Tchaikovsky, Tchaikovsky Prokofiev, Prokofiev "Amur waves", "Waves" - again by Strauss ... Around heard:

- E-my! ..
- Very nice, kapets easy! ..
- How exquisite, fly-fly! ..
- Such a ball, I finally figyu!
- Look how our Katka looks like! - came from somewhere Markin voice. - Only this beauty, and Katka is ours ...
- Well, so straight beauty! She is sexy, but you have to sit with such tits at home ...
- Attention! For the beautiful participants of the ball - flowers from Mr. Vyunkov, president of the company "Traviata". “La Traviata” is the calmness of your stomach! ..
- I adore Tchaikovsky, and also Leps! When they sound, I'm all so embraced ...

Voices, music, sparkling chandeliers, outfits, faces, hairstyles merged into a motley bottomless confusion, buzzing in my head.

- ... Listen! ... And let's flick away fuck out of here! BUT? Let's go to the white nights! To the embankment! - said the Master, when they, tired and drunk, stood at the buffet table and chewed, which fell under the arm.

Katka has already managed to communicate with the jury, toss them with wits' studs, which were poured out of her uncontrollable flow, and blow out two glasses of champagne. The wine was drunk easily, like a sprite, and the green Katkin eyes were burning crazy.

- Come on! But are you here like at work?
- Sort of. Yes, I spat! ... Come on. Come on, Adel-Gimp, do not be afraid, you are with me ... - he brought Katka from the table, not looking at anyone, and dragged her to the exit.

***

The street was stunned by the thick, velvety coolness. The shower was over, and the air was filled with freshness, leaving the white night in the nacreous sky.

His purity and moisture twisted the brain, and Katka screamed: - Aaaaaaa! Iiiii! - and laughed, looking with bulging eyes at Hosu.
- Yyyyyyy! - He mocked her, and they rushed to the Fontanka, splashing puddles.

Everything around was wet, washed, swollen, like a sponge, everywhere there was water - on the pavement, and in the air, and on the trees, which poured over the odorous shower Katka with Hosei. Fontanka was covered with a veil of fog, like a gas shawl. The clouded, foggy light of the white night enveloped the embankments and the whole city, frozen and extinct after a rainstorm, and a thick silence spread through the streets ...

- Yyyyyyy! Uh-uh-hey! Ogogoooooo! - the fugitives tore at her shouting. - Miiiaau! Rrrhav-woof-woof! - they were fooling around, and distant dogs from the invisible courtyards, gone into the fog, responded to them.

- Aaaaaaa! - moaning Katka. - I'm all wet! I'm like in the bathroom ...
- And I? I generally like Hippolyte under the shower! ... - the Master sang to her. - “Scratch my back, I feel sorry ...” "And let the shoes nafig?
- Come on! - Katka squealed and slipped off, flopping her bare feet in a puddle. - Ahhhh ... wow! I'm barefoot, and you? - she growled at Khozu, and he unpacked from socks and shoes, saying, “Please temporarily not smell me,” then he rolled up his trousers and took two trial steps. “They don't, infection,” he murmured, trying to shove both couples in his pockets, “yours climbed in, and mine let them go!”

He tied them with shoelaces and threw them on a branch.
- You'll get it later? - asked Katka.
- I do not know ... Forward! - The host gallantly bulged his elbow, inviting Katka, and they dignifiedly slapped the puddles of the embankment. Defile did not last long: screaming, Katka pushed Khozu and ran away from him, heaving fountains of spray.

- Ahhhh! He shouted, catching up with her. - Now I understand why Fontanka! Because here they run ... such wild, barefoot, wet beasts ... like you ... - he gasped, catching Katka by the waist. - Look, the bridge! Let's jump ?! - and he pictured lifted his foot over the railing. Katka screamed. - Yeah, yeah, believe it? Straaaaashno?
- You're a scoundrel! - pounding him in the side Katka. - You're a felon. Won your academy - she showed up on Rossi street - I will lock you there, you will be able to turn the fuette at your machine ... Dance me something! - she clapped her hands like a rajah, and the Host curved into a fucking pa.

- One is boring! - he danced. - Prrrazrashityte prjglasit ...
- ... you on a waltz tour! - Katka finished for him. - Rrrrazreschayu! Who will be the orchestra?
“Second, the King of Fontanka!” Pu-purum-pu-pu! - Pouting the lips, the Host began to sing Strauss, and he and Katka started spinning on the bridge, approaching in circles to Rossi Street.

Suddenly it started to rain. A minute - and it turned into a downpour, beating oblique jets through puddles, through fog and across Katka with Khosei.

- Ogogo! ..
- This is an underwater waltz ... Ahhh! What are you doing?

The host suddenly deftly picked her up and carried her down Rossi Street to the theater.

Downpour intensified; in a narrow street, enclosed by long walls of houses, he thundered like in a cave, and Katka screamed hysterically:
- Aaaaaaaaa! Mommies I'm dying! - and laughed loudly, like rain falling into tin roofs. Colored makeup streamed down her face, her hair was disheveled and hung with a wet icicle down.

The owner ran with her skipping without feeling the weight. Having run out to the Catherine Square, shrouded in mother-of-pearl shroud, like the whole city, he suddenly bent over Katka and nuzzled her cheek.

“Your mascara flowed,” he said, and licked a colored stream on his cheek. - Bitter! Maybe it's sweeter here? - he licked the other cheek, went down below and began to sting the tip of Katkina's lips. - Bitter, bitter, bitter! - He whispered, dropping Kathka to his feet and opening her mouth like a shell door.
- You yourself are bitter! Chelkash! ... - Katka closed her eyes, and he clung to her lips.

Downpour did not stop, and its deafening ringing buzzed in my head like a bell. Katka was gasping from a kiss, the first in her life, and from the water that beat her nose and eyes.

- ... Here, - said the Master, when he broke away from her. - Well? He asked, hugging her. Katka was silent, looking at him with wild, wet eyes.

They stood in the corner of the square, fenced off from the world by trees, lanterns and rain. Somewhere near was the extinct Nevsky.

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